Well as many of you know...or at least have realized by now, it is spring. Love is in the air and the animals are chasing each other in a funny way, and it is time for the Japanese to look skyward and enjoy some cherry blossoms. For those that know of the age old tradition of staring at the cherry blossoms, let me educate you.
This time of year cherry trees bloom; thus amazing the Japanese and consequently catching their attention for hours and even days at a time. While walking around one might see a group of happy folks sitting in a park getting nicely toasted (can you say "sake-bomb?") and eating some yakiniku (or grilled random beef parts...including, but not limited to, the hearts, lungs, etc.). Oh what a blessed thing!
Since it is quite an important part of the culture I thought it a great opportunity to have my class teach me a thing or two about nature and suggested that we have a class of just walking around and looking at the cherry trees on campus...it was a nice day and I really enjoyed it...which kinda scared me. It's like the old eighties song says..."today's Tom Sawyer's a mean mean man/..." oh wait, I'm thinking of "I think I'm turning..." I don't really want to go there.
Take care you all!
4.16.2005
no real comment on this one...
This cherry blossom really has a beautiful tone about it...oh wait, that's just the billboard outside of my classroom window. Spring is most definately in bloom...ha.
notice how they color coordinate all of the seasons...kinda creepy. Everywhere you look this time of year everything is pink.
notice how they color coordinate all of the seasons...kinda creepy. Everywhere you look this time of year everything is pink.
4.12.2005
More thoughts on Hunting...
Okay, so here's the deal:
First things first...so tonight I went out and bought a new electronic dictionary, one that converts Japanese to English and English to Japanese...this thing is amazing, it has like eleven dictionaries in one...as Joey would go to his grave saying, "Whoa!" But that's not the point; the point is that I bought with my research funds and got a free new keyboard in the act. Genius I say! So here's how I pulled it off: I gots a point card and the dictionary was like wicked expensive, so I got enough points to get the board and an a/c apaptor for my iPod. Education most definately pays*.
So back to the buzyness at hand: the big hunt. I have gotten some great ideas from everyone and I could only hope that more will come in. In the meantime I am preparing for failure, as it often follows me to a small extent, and am thinking of a few things that I could include as well. I am thinking that you all will be quite happy with the pictures in the end. But I would love to get as many suggestions as possible by next Monday and than I shall release the final list on Tuesday. So gets those minds a workin' and dullin' with all them boozeses.
Unky Danny luvs ya. Three cheers for the new board hip hip hoooraaay!!! No more cramped laptop wrists!
authors note: my acquisition of aformentioned keyboard is neither wrong nor unethical, it is simply a smart way of shopping. So stop all the shagrinning.
First things first...so tonight I went out and bought a new electronic dictionary, one that converts Japanese to English and English to Japanese...this thing is amazing, it has like eleven dictionaries in one...as Joey would go to his grave saying, "Whoa!" But that's not the point; the point is that I bought with my research funds and got a free new keyboard in the act. Genius I say! So here's how I pulled it off: I gots a point card and the dictionary was like wicked expensive, so I got enough points to get the board and an a/c apaptor for my iPod. Education most definately pays*.
So back to the buzyness at hand: the big hunt. I have gotten some great ideas from everyone and I could only hope that more will come in. In the meantime I am preparing for failure, as it often follows me to a small extent, and am thinking of a few things that I could include as well. I am thinking that you all will be quite happy with the pictures in the end. But I would love to get as many suggestions as possible by next Monday and than I shall release the final list on Tuesday. So gets those minds a workin' and dullin' with all them boozeses.
Unky Danny luvs ya. Three cheers for the new board hip hip hoooraaay!!! No more cramped laptop wrists!
authors note: my acquisition of aformentioned keyboard is neither wrong nor unethical, it is simply a smart way of shopping. So stop all the shagrinning.
4.11.2005
"ichiban" Scavenger Hunt...you Decide...
While I was sitting in my office and reading Mr. Pape's fine blog, found here, I (for some reason) decided to begin yet another competition for myself while over here in Japan. So here's the deal: I want for you, my trusty (and few) readers to suggest items that you would like to see from Nippon...now lets not get too strange and or perverse, but I am thinking that you could suggest items and then I will make a posting of the final cut. I am looking for about 15-20 different things to either snap pictures of or to scan onto the internet (not directly, but moreover through the use of a scanner and computer). So please do not delay...let me know what you want to see and I will do my best. I love you all and be sure to drop me a line...by the way each person should send about 2-5 ideas, or more...since I only have about 2-5 readers each one of you should at least send 4. Okay you guys? Come on now...you've been with me for so long...don't turn your backs on me now.
Tell your friends too!!!
Tell your friends too!!!
4.05.2005
'tis been a sad few days
With spring in the air it seems as though the grim reaper has awoken from his winter nap. I don't know exactly what to say about it all...Mitch Hedberg was too young to pass away. I mourn for him and his family not at all for what he stood for, but moreover because I truly enjoyed his humor and outlook on life. His passing, especially the circumstances of his death are quite sad. May he pass through the pearly gates with the kindest of company and his hair in his face...and perhaps a beaver in tow.
3.22.2005
Comments Continued
Ongoing Discussion between Brian Riggins of Rockford, Illinois and yours truly on the difference between TV and Radio music programming; original thought-provoking piece posted at http://sandwiches.blogspot.com with comments listed in their appropriate place.
As Wyclef said, “ and herrrrreee we go….”
Well, to begin I would like to point out the fact that I did do a little more research than you did; all in all, about an hour and a half. This is a curious subject, but I hope to find a point and accentuate it a little better than I did on your blogger.
Within your response you pointed out that WMAD was owned by Clear Channel and therefore they were “pretty much broadcasting evil waves.” Why is that? Upon glancing at their own website I noticed some things that I didn’t really think were all that bad; there was a quick little link to Unicef, some fundraising promos for regional radio stations, even a blurb about Tsunami Relief. How horrible of them.
But then I found the real dirt: their company creed. This short manifest states what it is that they are about and can be found at http://www.clearchannel.com/Corporate/company_creed.aspx.
Some of the more alarming points included:
• Believing that excellence is encouraged by “Respect for the individual,” “Honest, open communication,” “creativity, innovation and initiative,” etc.
• Creating an atmosphere of “helping our customers grow their businesses.”
The worst being the final line: “We believe the ultimate measure of our success is to provide a superior value to our stockholders.”
Hold on a second, you mean to tell me that ultimately it is a business? But isn’t television a business as well? Why yes it is. But here’s the difference: where as they are both businesses there is a definite and different strategy to selling their product.
According to the “The State of the News Media: An Annual report on American Journalism” survey, performed by Journalism.org, “the highly segmented radio business is increasingly dependent not simply on knowing its audience demographic in broad terms-age, income, marital status-but on knowing who these individual listeners are exactly.” The reports opening lines go on to include the simple facts/ideas that radio executives know many details about ones life; including food preferences, medical conditions, and lifestyle preference frequencies.
The same survey found that out of the following forms of media consumption, radio and television were at the top: newspapers, magazines, books, Total Reading (newspapers, magazines, books), radio listening, TV viewing, computer, and online. According to the survey observers the total average for Radio listening on an average day was 129minutes, whereas for TV viewing it was 319. The medium, which came in third, was “online” material with 78 minutes, only 11 ahead of total reading. This simply points out the fact that people consume most of their media from two major sources: tv and radio. As if you didn’t know that…
However, the main point of this rambling, is the idea that the type of advertising/marketing for the two mediums is completely different. Radio plays to a market whereas TV influences the market.
In previous posts I am not sure if you straight out said it or not, but I do believe that the idea of “who are the executives in charge of radio vs. tv? And why can’t they play some good tunes?” Well let’s take a look shall we?
Beloved NPR’s director of music is the lovely Benjamin Roe. He has done many great things for the station since becoming a part of it in 2002. Such as extending the “World of Opera,” to a full year service; as well as contributing some great advancements for their Jazz programming. However, for the sake of my argument, his biggest achievement came with the infusion of NPR and Starbucks in 2003, when he made it possible for participating Starbucks to make NPR’s Holiday Programming available for frappachino lovers everywhere*. If that is not stealing from Clear Channels playbook I don’t know what is. They are simply making a deal with one of their largest demographics. But honestly though, Starbucks and NPR is a gimmie.
Now on to WMAD: music director? I don’t know. It wasn’t listed. But going along with the idea that radio plays to the demographic I could easily surmise that they are doing a damn good job. Upon looking at their “Now Playing” list for the 9 o’clock pm hour of March 21 you will find such tunes as:
• “So Far Away” by Crossfade
• “Darling Nikki” by Foo Fighters
• “Devils Haircut” by Beck
• “Passive” by A Perfect Circle
• “Right Side of the Bed” by Atreyu
• “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance
• “Slither” by Velvet Revolver
• “Beating Heart Baby” by Head Automatica
• “Remember” by Disturbed
Now I can not and will not go so far as to say that any of those songs are, or will ever be, within the top of my list of favorite songs. But I can be honest and say that I could appreciate them while driving in a car or working. Point being that these songs are tuned into the demographic that I am a part of. I am a 23 year old recent college grad who has spend time in a Midwestern industrial town and come from a lower to middle class family. What’s not to like about “A Perfect Circle”?
As for the Bikini contest: it’s an advertising ploy to get Frat boys and union men out to the bars. But wait; there is a little something for the ladies. How does a “modeling contract with the Rock Agency,” a “photo shoot, MAD Girl contract, 1 year membership to Neighborhood Fitness Center, clothing and more” sound? Good? Well then pull out the hibernating summer clothes and get your rear down to “Madison Avenue” next Tuesday.
I’m not going to merit the good and the bad of this advertising ploy, but I will say that it seems to some how straddle the line of objectifying women and playing to both sides (at least for me…moral compass without a magnet at times).
Now back to executives. Let’s talk about the OC. The creator of the show is one Mr. Schwartz and at the site www.musicfromtheoc.com/linernotes we can bear witness to the fact that music is a major part of this show. They state on the page that “Schwartz is passionate about music and has made the selection of artists featured on The O.C. one of his main areas of focus.” An example of what The O.C. can do for a band can be seen in the fact that after the band “Rooney” appeared on the show their CD sales went up 200% within the following week. The site also states that “He (Schwartz) is often given other cutting edge bands a big push,” such as “Death Cab for Cutie, Black Eyed Peas, Bright Eyes, Jet and Spoon, and Finley Quay with a significant increase in radio airplay following each bands appearance.”
Upon further inspection of the “linernotes” section of the website I found some other interesting things. The main music supervisor is Alexandra Patsavas, and her company “The Chop Shop.” She began as a concert promoter in Champaign, Il., and has been working in the music supervising business for the past 10 years for various TV and Film projects. Within the notes on the page it was stated that one of the things that this crew loves about their job is being able to mold a song to fit a scene; this to me is the major difference between music within TV and radio. Music is used to accent something within TV and it is meant to define something within radio. Why do you listen to “The Drive?” Guaranteed sing-a-longs. You know the music on the station. You are not looking for it to make a break-up seem more poignant or for it to make a kiss last forever. You are looking for an easy way to spend 40 minutes of what could be a boring drive being entertained. Well, while you are busy trying to make the 40 minutes go a little faster someone saw an opportunity and said, “why don’t we sell that man a thing or two while we have his attention?” Well, in order to do that they had to find out who you were so that they could sell the time to someone who had something to sell you. I don’t think that too many modeling agencies would support NPR, no matter how many bikini contests they propose to hold.
The final portion will be about preference.
You have it, I have it and so do the people at “The Chop Shop.” Actually, the more that I look into it the more that I am convinced you and Ms. Parsavas should hook up. Within the “list of our 50 favorite albums of last year” from the people at “The Chop Shop” some familiar bands were listed. Such as: Belle & Sebastian, The Streets, Elliot Smith, Iron & Wine, Wilco, The Decemberists, etc. Many of these bands I have either heard about from you or have had them played for me by you.
Point: you have a similar preference to the people that decide what is to be played on the show. Does that mean that you fit into the demographic of who watches the OC? Or does it mean that they are trying to influence a younger crowd to listen to good music? I would go with the latter. They do however disagree with you on one thing: Green Day. The O.C. folks want to license the bands music, whereas you considered it a black eye for WMAD.
Bottom line: you are comparing two totally different mediums of relaying media. Both are trying to make money from advertisers; but one is projecting trends and the other absorbing trends; which therefore make them work in different ways. When it comes down to it preference takes the cake, because it doesn’t matter what you think you like, the advertisers know and they are either going to give you what you like or they are going to subtly recommend further options.
But really though Brian, why wouldn’t you just watch the Star Wars trailer online or something like that?
Through this little discussion I have learned a thing or two. Thanks. I promise never to loft over softly woven comments onto your blogger again.
*Starbucks, the world’s largest coffee house, really pisses me off. They sell free-trade coffee by the bag to those that want and they love to show off how great it is for the farmers and their ilk, but they won’t make any solid changes to, you know, perhaps “only” sell free trade coffee. It’s a lot like Wal-Mart changing their clothing areas to “Sweat-Shop” and “Non-Sweat Shop” goods.
As Wyclef said, “ and herrrrreee we go….”
Well, to begin I would like to point out the fact that I did do a little more research than you did; all in all, about an hour and a half. This is a curious subject, but I hope to find a point and accentuate it a little better than I did on your blogger.
Within your response you pointed out that WMAD was owned by Clear Channel and therefore they were “pretty much broadcasting evil waves.” Why is that? Upon glancing at their own website I noticed some things that I didn’t really think were all that bad; there was a quick little link to Unicef, some fundraising promos for regional radio stations, even a blurb about Tsunami Relief. How horrible of them.
But then I found the real dirt: their company creed. This short manifest states what it is that they are about and can be found at http://www.clearchannel.com/Corporate/company_creed.aspx.
Some of the more alarming points included:
• Believing that excellence is encouraged by “Respect for the individual,” “Honest, open communication,” “creativity, innovation and initiative,” etc.
• Creating an atmosphere of “helping our customers grow their businesses.”
The worst being the final line: “We believe the ultimate measure of our success is to provide a superior value to our stockholders.”
Hold on a second, you mean to tell me that ultimately it is a business? But isn’t television a business as well? Why yes it is. But here’s the difference: where as they are both businesses there is a definite and different strategy to selling their product.
According to the “The State of the News Media: An Annual report on American Journalism” survey, performed by Journalism.org, “the highly segmented radio business is increasingly dependent not simply on knowing its audience demographic in broad terms-age, income, marital status-but on knowing who these individual listeners are exactly.” The reports opening lines go on to include the simple facts/ideas that radio executives know many details about ones life; including food preferences, medical conditions, and lifestyle preference frequencies.
The same survey found that out of the following forms of media consumption, radio and television were at the top: newspapers, magazines, books, Total Reading (newspapers, magazines, books), radio listening, TV viewing, computer, and online. According to the survey observers the total average for Radio listening on an average day was 129minutes, whereas for TV viewing it was 319. The medium, which came in third, was “online” material with 78 minutes, only 11 ahead of total reading. This simply points out the fact that people consume most of their media from two major sources: tv and radio. As if you didn’t know that…
However, the main point of this rambling, is the idea that the type of advertising/marketing for the two mediums is completely different. Radio plays to a market whereas TV influences the market.
In previous posts I am not sure if you straight out said it or not, but I do believe that the idea of “who are the executives in charge of radio vs. tv? And why can’t they play some good tunes?” Well let’s take a look shall we?
Beloved NPR’s director of music is the lovely Benjamin Roe. He has done many great things for the station since becoming a part of it in 2002. Such as extending the “World of Opera,” to a full year service; as well as contributing some great advancements for their Jazz programming. However, for the sake of my argument, his biggest achievement came with the infusion of NPR and Starbucks in 2003, when he made it possible for participating Starbucks to make NPR’s Holiday Programming available for frappachino lovers everywhere*. If that is not stealing from Clear Channels playbook I don’t know what is. They are simply making a deal with one of their largest demographics. But honestly though, Starbucks and NPR is a gimmie.
Now on to WMAD: music director? I don’t know. It wasn’t listed. But going along with the idea that radio plays to the demographic I could easily surmise that they are doing a damn good job. Upon looking at their “Now Playing” list for the 9 o’clock pm hour of March 21 you will find such tunes as:
• “So Far Away” by Crossfade
• “Darling Nikki” by Foo Fighters
• “Devils Haircut” by Beck
• “Passive” by A Perfect Circle
• “Right Side of the Bed” by Atreyu
• “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance
• “Slither” by Velvet Revolver
• “Beating Heart Baby” by Head Automatica
• “Remember” by Disturbed
Now I can not and will not go so far as to say that any of those songs are, or will ever be, within the top of my list of favorite songs. But I can be honest and say that I could appreciate them while driving in a car or working. Point being that these songs are tuned into the demographic that I am a part of. I am a 23 year old recent college grad who has spend time in a Midwestern industrial town and come from a lower to middle class family. What’s not to like about “A Perfect Circle”?
As for the Bikini contest: it’s an advertising ploy to get Frat boys and union men out to the bars. But wait; there is a little something for the ladies. How does a “modeling contract with the Rock Agency,” a “photo shoot, MAD Girl contract, 1 year membership to Neighborhood Fitness Center, clothing and more” sound? Good? Well then pull out the hibernating summer clothes and get your rear down to “Madison Avenue” next Tuesday.
I’m not going to merit the good and the bad of this advertising ploy, but I will say that it seems to some how straddle the line of objectifying women and playing to both sides (at least for me…moral compass without a magnet at times).
Now back to executives. Let’s talk about the OC. The creator of the show is one Mr. Schwartz and at the site www.musicfromtheoc.com/linernotes we can bear witness to the fact that music is a major part of this show. They state on the page that “Schwartz is passionate about music and has made the selection of artists featured on The O.C. one of his main areas of focus.” An example of what The O.C. can do for a band can be seen in the fact that after the band “Rooney” appeared on the show their CD sales went up 200% within the following week. The site also states that “He (Schwartz) is often given other cutting edge bands a big push,” such as “Death Cab for Cutie, Black Eyed Peas, Bright Eyes, Jet and Spoon, and Finley Quay with a significant increase in radio airplay following each bands appearance.”
Upon further inspection of the “linernotes” section of the website I found some other interesting things. The main music supervisor is Alexandra Patsavas, and her company “The Chop Shop.” She began as a concert promoter in Champaign, Il., and has been working in the music supervising business for the past 10 years for various TV and Film projects. Within the notes on the page it was stated that one of the things that this crew loves about their job is being able to mold a song to fit a scene; this to me is the major difference between music within TV and radio. Music is used to accent something within TV and it is meant to define something within radio. Why do you listen to “The Drive?” Guaranteed sing-a-longs. You know the music on the station. You are not looking for it to make a break-up seem more poignant or for it to make a kiss last forever. You are looking for an easy way to spend 40 minutes of what could be a boring drive being entertained. Well, while you are busy trying to make the 40 minutes go a little faster someone saw an opportunity and said, “why don’t we sell that man a thing or two while we have his attention?” Well, in order to do that they had to find out who you were so that they could sell the time to someone who had something to sell you. I don’t think that too many modeling agencies would support NPR, no matter how many bikini contests they propose to hold.
The final portion will be about preference.
You have it, I have it and so do the people at “The Chop Shop.” Actually, the more that I look into it the more that I am convinced you and Ms. Parsavas should hook up. Within the “list of our 50 favorite albums of last year” from the people at “The Chop Shop” some familiar bands were listed. Such as: Belle & Sebastian, The Streets, Elliot Smith, Iron & Wine, Wilco, The Decemberists, etc. Many of these bands I have either heard about from you or have had them played for me by you.
Point: you have a similar preference to the people that decide what is to be played on the show. Does that mean that you fit into the demographic of who watches the OC? Or does it mean that they are trying to influence a younger crowd to listen to good music? I would go with the latter. They do however disagree with you on one thing: Green Day. The O.C. folks want to license the bands music, whereas you considered it a black eye for WMAD.
Bottom line: you are comparing two totally different mediums of relaying media. Both are trying to make money from advertisers; but one is projecting trends and the other absorbing trends; which therefore make them work in different ways. When it comes down to it preference takes the cake, because it doesn’t matter what you think you like, the advertisers know and they are either going to give you what you like or they are going to subtly recommend further options.
But really though Brian, why wouldn’t you just watch the Star Wars trailer online or something like that?
Through this little discussion I have learned a thing or two. Thanks. I promise never to loft over softly woven comments onto your blogger again.
*Starbucks, the world’s largest coffee house, really pisses me off. They sell free-trade coffee by the bag to those that want and they love to show off how great it is for the farmers and their ilk, but they won’t make any solid changes to, you know, perhaps “only” sell free trade coffee. It’s a lot like Wal-Mart changing their clothing areas to “Sweat-Shop” and “Non-Sweat Shop” goods.
3.11.2005
Me trying to make up for not having pictures of Sumos...
Okay, so here's the deal: I did have dinner with some sumos, by the way they aren't all that big, but I did not get any good shots. Sorry, I felt kind of bad taking pictures while they were trying to eat. However I am going to go to their practice tomorrow and will hopefully have some pictures of yours truly practicing with a group of real, live, and large Sumo Wrestlers. Ganbattewa (I will do my best). In the meantime please, oh please, read about my new favorite native, Kazuhide. This is truly a wonderful and realistic portrait of a middle-aged Japanese Man. Well, not really actually, but it is pretty damn funny. Enjoy! Sumo soon.
3.09.2005
dia-Bet-"ya wouldn't want to eat it"-ic Sweets in Japan
I'm not really sure what that title has to do with anything...I guess in my little mind, within the big head, I always seem to associate no sugar to Diabetics. Mom, Mrs. Clapsaddle-Future Nurse, "am I right?" Let me know.
Anyway, it was all inspired by a doughnut (which was touted as being "jumbo" on the package...sheeettt, if this thing was jumbo then I should be having wet dreams about the statue of liberty because I am a freaking giant).
So back to the 'nut. It was horrible, no wonder it was still in a package in my office and not in the small room of my living quarters going for a swim.
The sweets in Japan are horrible. Bottom line. When I went home last time I returned with a bag of Reese's peanut-butter cups to give to my students for Valentine's Day. They didn't like them. Weird-o's.
They put stuff like "sweet soy beans" in doughnuts here (which isn't all bad, but it just isn't very doughnut-like). All of the cakes taste like fish. I am not messin' with ya either (however the fish taste may simply always be a lingering bit of crap from a previous meal resting amongst my teeth).
Well there, I've been inspired by a bad doughnut. All of it wouldn't be that bad if I could get my hands on a bagel...but you know how the Japanese feel about bagels (if you do for some reason know how they feel please write me and let me know because I haven't got a freakin' clue).
Tonight I eat amongst the Sumos. Pictures shall be posted tomorrow along with a few more choice words.
ps: anyone ever heard of "Lawsons" convienance stores? Let me know if you have. Thanks.
Anyway, it was all inspired by a doughnut (which was touted as being "jumbo" on the package...sheeettt, if this thing was jumbo then I should be having wet dreams about the statue of liberty because I am a freaking giant).
So back to the 'nut. It was horrible, no wonder it was still in a package in my office and not in the small room of my living quarters going for a swim.
The sweets in Japan are horrible. Bottom line. When I went home last time I returned with a bag of Reese's peanut-butter cups to give to my students for Valentine's Day. They didn't like them. Weird-o's.
They put stuff like "sweet soy beans" in doughnuts here (which isn't all bad, but it just isn't very doughnut-like). All of the cakes taste like fish. I am not messin' with ya either (however the fish taste may simply always be a lingering bit of crap from a previous meal resting amongst my teeth).
Well there, I've been inspired by a bad doughnut. All of it wouldn't be that bad if I could get my hands on a bagel...but you know how the Japanese feel about bagels (if you do for some reason know how they feel please write me and let me know because I haven't got a freakin' clue).
Tonight I eat amongst the Sumos. Pictures shall be posted tomorrow along with a few more choice words.
ps: anyone ever heard of "Lawsons" convienance stores? Let me know if you have. Thanks.
3.08.2005
Now link free...for the time being
As I looked over the most recent of my posts I realized that I haven't actually been writing too much. Sorry about that. I have really been enjoying my little "BlogThis!" function which allows me to link to whatever internet page I have been reading. It's really pretty nifty. But I am sure that it really isn't offering too much to those of you that may actually look at my meager pink blog. Which, by the way, has recently been recieving some hate-speech based on it's color preference. Who cares what color it is? I sure don't. So let's all just deal with the pinkness of this thing and embrass it for what it is; which is of course a fairly ambiguous pile of words and thoughts. Think of it as a pink brain; it serves it's small purpose for daily functionality, but in the end I'm killing it slowly with my lack of care.
Anywho; on to the current events.
Last weekend I went to Yokohama for a rugby match. For those of you that are not up on your geography, Yokohama is a port city on the outskirts of Tokyo, or so I was told. I don't know for sure, I couldn't find it on the map.
We lost.
With that aside, it was a great Rugby Tour and we were proud to have made the journey and had as much fun as we did. It was a blast. One side note though; road-trips in Japan are really weird. Okay, so you know how when you travel in the states there are about a hundred stops for every hundred miles? Well it appears that in Japan there are only about two stops per hundred miles...or X-amount of Kilometers (whatever). Point: the rest stops, which is all that they were, reminded me of Great America. No there weren't rides (except the "stand-really-far-back-from-the-toilet-because-you-don't-want-to-wade-in-pee"...I totally rode that one; must be the fear of urnal-zilla), but there were masses like no other. So many people and buses I think that I walked onto three or four that weren't mine at the stops. Like houses in the burbs, they all look the same.
Another interesting thing: mountains. It is still strange for me to go anywhere, near my house, or far away, and still be surrounded by mountains. Well actually in the town in which I live we have the mountains to one side and the ocean to another. But still, mountains, everyday. It's definately a change from the land as flat as Lincolns stomach. He was scrawny and so is the land that i'm used to.
Well, I think that this is enough free thinking for the day. Back I go. See you all in my dreams. Take care and I promise to have much more interesting things to talk about as well as pictures...as I am going to be eating a dinner with a Sumo Stable tomorrow night. It is going to be AWESOME (p.s. sumo "Stable" means sumo team; they are divided up by different stables...wierd huh...). Talk to you all then.
Anywho; on to the current events.
Last weekend I went to Yokohama for a rugby match. For those of you that are not up on your geography, Yokohama is a port city on the outskirts of Tokyo, or so I was told. I don't know for sure, I couldn't find it on the map.
We lost.
With that aside, it was a great Rugby Tour and we were proud to have made the journey and had as much fun as we did. It was a blast. One side note though; road-trips in Japan are really weird. Okay, so you know how when you travel in the states there are about a hundred stops for every hundred miles? Well it appears that in Japan there are only about two stops per hundred miles...or X-amount of Kilometers (whatever). Point: the rest stops, which is all that they were, reminded me of Great America. No there weren't rides (except the "stand-really-far-back-from-the-toilet-because-you-don't-want-to-wade-in-pee"...I totally rode that one; must be the fear of urnal-zilla), but there were masses like no other. So many people and buses I think that I walked onto three or four that weren't mine at the stops. Like houses in the burbs, they all look the same.
Another interesting thing: mountains. It is still strange for me to go anywhere, near my house, or far away, and still be surrounded by mountains. Well actually in the town in which I live we have the mountains to one side and the ocean to another. But still, mountains, everyday. It's definately a change from the land as flat as Lincolns stomach. He was scrawny and so is the land that i'm used to.
Well, I think that this is enough free thinking for the day. Back I go. See you all in my dreams. Take care and I promise to have much more interesting things to talk about as well as pictures...as I am going to be eating a dinner with a Sumo Stable tomorrow night. It is going to be AWESOME (p.s. sumo "Stable" means sumo team; they are divided up by different stables...wierd huh...). Talk to you all then.
2.27.2005
Crime on the rise
I'm just happy that the words, "sodomy" and "Texas" are not included in this little shenanigan.
WTF!? Who'd rather live in a culture of beer, rather than fear? Oh me me me...
Okay, so I would like to get some more opinions on this whole story. The big question is, "What do the Boy Scouts have to do with this at all?" The headline Cub Scout Leader Arrested in BTK Killings. However his involvement with BSoA has nothing to do with the fact that he killed around 10 people. However, they also mentioned that he was "active at his Lutheran church," as well. Therefore, be warned, Lutheran Boy Scouts are most likely goign to kill you some time soon.
2.24.2005
Me thinks the Pink is scaring the children...
Things that are frustrating at the moment:
1. A cracker trying to teach African-American history to Japanese students (at least it was students the first week, now it's been reduced to just 'student')
2. Iowa Student Loan Liquidity Corporation; don't let them convince you that everyone from Iowa is an Angel playing baseball...although I am convinced that the people at ISLLC do often carry baseball bats
3. Eating curry for like the 6th day in a row
4. The fact that my desire to blog far exceeds my readership...at least I get to look at my thoughts in some published form.
It's not all bad. I get paid tomorrow and I get to go out with the department for din-din.
Few notes for those that may read:
1. Brian: please do the review of Aeroplane over the sea...I still can't stop listening to it.
2. Martin, I have to admit that I complain and ask questions far more then I actually transcribe and I am very happy and grateful that you gave me this job; anything for a friend.
3. If you have gotten this far you have successfully made it into my will. In order to be compensated please mail a self-addressed envelope with ¥2,000 ($20 USD) to me...if you need the address please call Iowa Student Loan as they often send me love letters...even in Japan. Guess that 's where the money from the interest goes to...
1. A cracker trying to teach African-American history to Japanese students (at least it was students the first week, now it's been reduced to just 'student')
2. Iowa Student Loan Liquidity Corporation; don't let them convince you that everyone from Iowa is an Angel playing baseball...although I am convinced that the people at ISLLC do often carry baseball bats
3. Eating curry for like the 6th day in a row
4. The fact that my desire to blog far exceeds my readership...at least I get to look at my thoughts in some published form.
It's not all bad. I get paid tomorrow and I get to go out with the department for din-din.
Few notes for those that may read:
1. Brian: please do the review of Aeroplane over the sea...I still can't stop listening to it.
2. Martin, I have to admit that I complain and ask questions far more then I actually transcribe and I am very happy and grateful that you gave me this job; anything for a friend.
3. If you have gotten this far you have successfully made it into my will. In order to be compensated please mail a self-addressed envelope with ¥2,000 ($20 USD) to me...if you need the address please call Iowa Student Loan as they often send me love letters...even in Japan. Guess that 's where the money from the interest goes to...
2.22.2005
Free Mojtaba and Arash Day
February 22nd is Free Mojtaba and Arash Day, two Iranians who have been jailed for views expressed in their bloggers. Although my blog is pretty tame and harmless (i.e. the pretty in pink look) I still think that this is a day worth observing. I do not know what it was that they expressed, and upon looking for a clue I have reached a dead end. I am not one for wanting to spread democracy throughout the world via force or through any overpowering sanctions, but I am one for freedom of expression. Please take the time today and pass the word onto others.
For a little more insight check out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/4278241.stm.
Have a good day.
For a little more insight check out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/4278241.stm.
Have a good day.
2.21.2005
You can still see the high water marks...
The man who first got me interested in reading and writing, beyond Levar Burton and the Reading Rainbow Readers, Mr. Hunter S. Thompson, is dead. He apparantly took his own life last night, or today (if you are me), in Colorado. It is a sad day. God rest your soul Dr. Gonzo.
Recognition and Revelations Make the Day
Amagasaki, Hyogo, Japan-“Honestly, I never thought that anyone really cared.” Shock and pride filled the face of 23 year old English as a Foreign Language (EFL) Assistant Professor Daniel Axelson Thursday February 17th when he found that someone had not only been reading an online journal he has been publishing, but also suggested it to others. Axelson stated that his initial hope was that the Web Log or “Blog” would be used as an outlet for his writing as well as a place for his family and friends to check in on his various activities while in Japan. “I never really thought that it would go so far as to get the attention of someone like Michael Pape!” exclaimed Axelson in a phone interview.
Pape’s (author of http://epth.blogspot.com) connection to Axelson has been limited and scattered at best. “I mean, I met the guy a few times and I always thought that he was pretty smart, you know, not the type of guy that would want to read my stuff, let alone post on the side of his blog to like, have others look at it too. It’s a small world man, this is really blowing my mind.” Mr. Axelson later divulged how he stumbled across Pape’s Blog on another Web Log site, http://goodgame.blogspot.com, a site maintained by his cousin and some limited individuals. “I like try and check it everyday, it’s a good way to see what everyone is up to back home you know. Plus they are like really smart and usually I don’t understand what they are talking about, but it is still interesting. Wish I could get me on that blogger…”
Mr. Pape was not available for comment, but through inspection of his “Blog” one can see how Axelson may be a little overwhelmed at the fellow’s intelligence. His insight and criticism of life and television are often wry and witty, a little more than the content on Axleson’s own Web Log. The incident as a whole sheds much light onto the fact that the world is shrinking and that small minds are easy stimulated as well as complimented, leaving Mr. Pape the torch bearer on spreading happiness and communication across our ever expanding world.
Good on ya Mr. Pape.
Author’s final note: Mr. Axelson would also like to acknowledge Pape’s wife and said, “hey, like tell her I said ‘hello’ or something, and maybe ‘how’s things?”
Pape’s (author of http://epth.blogspot.com) connection to Axelson has been limited and scattered at best. “I mean, I met the guy a few times and I always thought that he was pretty smart, you know, not the type of guy that would want to read my stuff, let alone post on the side of his blog to like, have others look at it too. It’s a small world man, this is really blowing my mind.” Mr. Axelson later divulged how he stumbled across Pape’s Blog on another Web Log site, http://goodgame.blogspot.com, a site maintained by his cousin and some limited individuals. “I like try and check it everyday, it’s a good way to see what everyone is up to back home you know. Plus they are like really smart and usually I don’t understand what they are talking about, but it is still interesting. Wish I could get me on that blogger…”
Mr. Pape was not available for comment, but through inspection of his “Blog” one can see how Axelson may be a little overwhelmed at the fellow’s intelligence. His insight and criticism of life and television are often wry and witty, a little more than the content on Axleson’s own Web Log. The incident as a whole sheds much light onto the fact that the world is shrinking and that small minds are easy stimulated as well as complimented, leaving Mr. Pape the torch bearer on spreading happiness and communication across our ever expanding world.
Good on ya Mr. Pape.
Author’s final note: Mr. Axelson would also like to acknowledge Pape’s wife and said, “hey, like tell her I said ‘hello’ or something, and maybe ‘how’s things?”
2.19.2005
Yeah yeah yeah...it's been a while
Okay, so no time to dwell on why I haven't written in a while, on to the important stuff:
So I have never been a big fan of conspiracy theories, DaVinci related or not. But I do have one myself. Maybe "conspiracy" is not the proper term...we shall call it an "enlightenment." The point: so I was watching the Big Lebowski today and I noticed that there were some odd coincidences. If you watch the begining of the film you see the Dude go into "Ralph's," his local grocer, to buy some cream. While checking out, after suckling at the teat of free enterprise (i.e. a carton of Half & Half that he opened and tried before purchasing...by the way, what is Half & Half? I would imagine one half is some sort of dairy product, but what of the other Half? hmmm...). Anyway, while checking out and writing his check for $.68 he looks up to listen to the remarks of G. Bush Sr. stating that, "...this aggresion will not stand..." or something of that ilk. Okay, you ready for the kicker, the date on the check was...Sept. 11th, 1991, eleven years before Jeff and Nicole got married...and ten years before the whole big Sept. 11th, 2001 incident. Weird no? Please, someone, take this observation and make sense of it...or at least fun of it, or maybe some sort of funsense of it (not to be confused with "workcited!").
Okay, well I tire of this game. I must go to bed. But I would also like to take this time to ask that you perhaps mosey over and take a gander at my other work in progress. I think that it has promise written all over it, that address again is http://weblogreview.blogspot.com. Check it out if you dare....ooooooooooooooooooo.
So I have never been a big fan of conspiracy theories, DaVinci related or not. But I do have one myself. Maybe "conspiracy" is not the proper term...we shall call it an "enlightenment." The point: so I was watching the Big Lebowski today and I noticed that there were some odd coincidences. If you watch the begining of the film you see the Dude go into "Ralph's," his local grocer, to buy some cream. While checking out, after suckling at the teat of free enterprise (i.e. a carton of Half & Half that he opened and tried before purchasing...by the way, what is Half & Half? I would imagine one half is some sort of dairy product, but what of the other Half? hmmm...). Anyway, while checking out and writing his check for $.68 he looks up to listen to the remarks of G. Bush Sr. stating that, "...this aggresion will not stand..." or something of that ilk. Okay, you ready for the kicker, the date on the check was...Sept. 11th, 1991, eleven years before Jeff and Nicole got married...and ten years before the whole big Sept. 11th, 2001 incident. Weird no? Please, someone, take this observation and make sense of it...or at least fun of it, or maybe some sort of funsense of it (not to be confused with "workcited!").
Okay, well I tire of this game. I must go to bed. But I would also like to take this time to ask that you perhaps mosey over and take a gander at my other work in progress. I think that it has promise written all over it, that address again is http://weblogreview.blogspot.com. Check it out if you dare....ooooooooooooooooooo.
1.27.2005
Is there a "Brighter Side" to the "Land of the Rising Sun?"
Well is there?
Who am I to tell you?
I think that with all things there's always a deodorant to cover up the smells.
Well the choice has been made and I have sealed my fate for the next year. I am going to be staying over here in Japan until July of 2006. I know that it is a tough pill to swallow, but it's the truth.
So here are my thoughts on the whole situation: I enjoy the country. I enjoy the experiences that I have had over here. I know that at times I may seem to be a little uneasy about being here, but cut me some slack I took a big plunge in coming here in the first place. It really is a trip and I think that in me staying another year I will be able to get the most out of everything. And "yes" Dad, I will hopefully know at least half of the Japanese Alphabet before leaving after two years (author's note: Kanji is Chinese, not Japanese; therefore it is exempt).
But who cares about all that sappy crap? I have to have some funny stories or tales that I can give ya...let's think...Okay, here's one (and yes it has to do with food).
So I have eaten some funky things over here. But let's face it, one of the top things to do in Japan is go out to eat. Let me explain: you all know that the land mass is small, the population density is high, and that Japanese food is often "strange." Okay; with that knowledge we can also assume the following: that the average Japanese house is quite small, people often want to spend time with one another, and people have to eat. Leading to the basic statement/thought: "Living in Japan involves often eating outside of ones house and is often used as a social function and escape from the tiny apartment that many people call home and dungeon." So I stretched it a little.
Anyway, I ate Fugu (spelling may be way off...but I don't care). In English it is called a puffer-fish or blow-fish, you know, the poisonous one that Homer ate improperly cut and thought that he was going to die. Well...it tasted fine to me and I'm still kicking 24 hours after consumption. It did taste a little like chicken though...poison chicken.
Wanna hear what else I've eaten that was gross? me neither. This topic turned south real quick.
Lessons over.
Who am I to tell you?
I think that with all things there's always a deodorant to cover up the smells.
Well the choice has been made and I have sealed my fate for the next year. I am going to be staying over here in Japan until July of 2006. I know that it is a tough pill to swallow, but it's the truth.
So here are my thoughts on the whole situation: I enjoy the country. I enjoy the experiences that I have had over here. I know that at times I may seem to be a little uneasy about being here, but cut me some slack I took a big plunge in coming here in the first place. It really is a trip and I think that in me staying another year I will be able to get the most out of everything. And "yes" Dad, I will hopefully know at least half of the Japanese Alphabet before leaving after two years (author's note: Kanji is Chinese, not Japanese; therefore it is exempt).
But who cares about all that sappy crap? I have to have some funny stories or tales that I can give ya...let's think...Okay, here's one (and yes it has to do with food).
So I have eaten some funky things over here. But let's face it, one of the top things to do in Japan is go out to eat. Let me explain: you all know that the land mass is small, the population density is high, and that Japanese food is often "strange." Okay; with that knowledge we can also assume the following: that the average Japanese house is quite small, people often want to spend time with one another, and people have to eat. Leading to the basic statement/thought: "Living in Japan involves often eating outside of ones house and is often used as a social function and escape from the tiny apartment that many people call home and dungeon." So I stretched it a little.
Anyway, I ate Fugu (spelling may be way off...but I don't care). In English it is called a puffer-fish or blow-fish, you know, the poisonous one that Homer ate improperly cut and thought that he was going to die. Well...it tasted fine to me and I'm still kicking 24 hours after consumption. It did taste a little like chicken though...poison chicken.
Wanna hear what else I've eaten that was gross? me neither. This topic turned south real quick.
Lessons over.
1.19.2005
a diversion from the ordinary blahg
Since so many of you, or at least a few of you, have told me that my writing isn't half bad I thought that I would give you a little fiction. It isn't very good, but it isn't too bad. So just read it anyway. Just don't know what to say about Japan right now. Nothing too new. I may go to Africa in March. Exciting. Plus I just got a boo-boo in the mail.
Now to the tale...take care. Love ya.
Egg Strokes
Moving in a little closer with every second he was now a perfect mold of the figure lying next to him. He had gently swayed here and inched there in order to receive the maximum amount of touch combined with the least amount of space allowed to two figures. Henry gently chooses his words as he leans over to the beauty now occupying his bed and mind
.
“I…I really don’t know how to tell you all that I am thinking.”
She remains silent not knowing what to expect.
“You see, I was so pleased to run into you again today…after first talking to you I, I thought that I would never see you again. You seemed so, so, so…”
He had always stumbled over his words whenever relaying emotion.
“You, see…I mean someone, so, well, so lovely,” the word stuck to his tongue like honey to a spoon slowly dripping off the subtle, round tip into the cup of tea that was his pent up desires and dreams.
“And there you were again today. I just knew that I had to take advantage of the situation. I can’t tell you how, well just, how…great it is to have you over here with me.”
Feeling a little more at ease and one with the environment Henry looks around the baron room and begins to remember the days when he and his mother would often sit in this same one-room apartment and watch their programs together. She was always a fan of the afternoon dramas whereas he hadn’t ever really preferred any specific program but more or less used the time to get away from the drudgeries of daily life. He had a typical upbringing: not enough coddling, “latch-key” kid, parent’s divorced, never allowed to have a dog, picked on at school, but later accepted by those more conducive to mediocrity, etc., etc. Henry was nothing special by any means.
With his eyes floating casually about the room his tongue became more and more relaxed and his thoughts drifted through time and he went to work picking memories and words out of the air like a mother chimp picking the ticks off the back of her young.
“You know, it was right-over in that chair that my mother died 15 years ago.”
His “matter-of-fact” tone may have shaken some, but the young lady didn’t move from her stead under his arm and he smiled to himself while thinking of the time when he and his mother first moved into this place; but then quickly refocusing on the demise of mama.
His smile now replaced with a grin and “matter-of” replaced with “down-trodden” tone.
“I just found her slumped over in the chair hands dangling at her sides and her hair fallen over her face. She looked peaceful. Must have waited till the end of ‘days’ before she passed. She did like that doctor on the program. Probably waited till the show was over to go. Wish she could have met someone like that before the end. Just too bad. But…we don’t make the rules, just have to adhere to them.”
Henry hadn’t missed his father. He hadn’t even been angry with the man; you can’t hate what you don’t know. He hadn’t really loved his mother, but he felt a genuine attachment to her, at least through time. When he was young she used to sit alone at times and look as though she was dying. He would see the look when all was quite and he would gaze over at her for all the reasons a fatherless child looks at his mother; maybe guidance; maybe a smile; any little bit of emotion. It was then that he would see the emptiness and loss in her will. He would see her eyes fall gently upon an object and become absorbed, it was as though she was looking through all of existence, just peering into it unobtrusively and lovingly; it was then that she looked content and sometimes even happy. Then she would catch herself and look over at her only son and companion and reality would settle into what was the perfect daydream of love and happiness. It was at that point that a certain realization and disappointment hit her and occupied her corneas until bedtime.
When Henry reached the age of 34, and found himself alone and disinterested in looking anymore, he began to stumble off into the same false-reality when watching television alone and a commercial came on. He would usually stare at the product being pitched but would slowly wander off. Eyes wandering around the room hither and thither, to and fro, usually ending up on the coffee table. With his mind flying through space and time he would gather up the visions that he had of love and relationships. The visions of coy kisses and loving embraces would race through his head. He would imagine lazy Sunday mornings and smiles exchanged over his eggs ala “Henrique” (2 eggs, scrambled, mixed with cubed Velvetta and Salsa). It was truly a grand ideal. But it would end with the squealing of tires on the television; or, if the vision was really good, his own neck snapping back into place from believing too much in his own sappy dreams. This sudden attack of reality served a dual purpose: it let him know that he was still sad, both mentally and physically, and it also reminded him that his program was most likely not over yet as well.
Just as the reality of being alone reminds him of his current state of being, reality sometimes also reminds him of how to act while in the company of women. Right about now reality reminded him that his new friend would most likely not want to hear how the Grim Reaper had called his mother a gander and not a mallard in the big game of life that is all too much like Duck-Duck-Goose. Or at least that was the conclusion that Henry had reached considering the fact that the woman hadn’t made a sound in a while.
Like the oaf that he is, his air escaped from his chest declaring his mark for life, “Oooooaffff, uh, uh…I’m sure that you didn’t want to hear anything about that at a time like this. I mean, we should just be enjoying the moment. I promise I won’t say another word…promise…cross my heart,” silent for the moment…but his lack of self-confidence wouldn’t let the desire pass, “hope to die.” Quickly he turns onto his stomach and buries his head into the pillow, deliberately digging in deeper and deeper. His will power has been both humiliated and defeated. In the back of his mind he declares himself the weakest man alive and imagines an award ceremony where he would eventually forget his speech and trip on the steeps while approaching the podium.
Then he thinks about that line, “hope to die.” Henry rarely “hopes” for death. But sometimes at night he lays about in bed tossing and turning feeling as though he has done the day a disservice for not getting exhausted under it’s light and energy. But most of all he thinks about love and what possible relationships he has on the horizon. Which, as of late, were far and few between; but he was an optimist. However his optimism has been subsiding to fears of premature death and a life of loneliness. Lately he has been spending a lot of time wondering who will find him in a coma after suffering his first stroke.
No one would probably stop by for days or maybe even weeks.
His work place was accustomed to his face, but didn’t really need him around, and could, for all practical purposes, function without his presence. Like so many other nights he was now drifting off to that place between sleep and the final thoughts of a wasted day.
Sweet release. No more worries about strokes and wasted hours…
As the refrigerator’s cooler slipped on in Henry’s dark and earthly colored apartment he was brought back from the sleep side of the final thought and forced into full realization that he didn’t want to die. He really, really didn’t want to die. As he thought about the inevitable and impending stroke, that he was convinced would come any day now, a single tear fell from his eye and he whispered his mantra back to limbo; hoping that this time sleep would win the battle.
“Soon enough you’ll have her here. Soon enough someone will be here for you in the morning. Someday you’ll find her. Someday you’ll know she loves you. Some day you’ll share the eggs and paper. Some day, soon, some day, before you know it, you’ll…find, it…soo…”
Off he goes to the land of no remorse, the greatest form of denial: sleep. Even if you find yourself naked in public or falling off of a building there the worst reality you have to deal with is a bead of sweat or a subtle laugh to greet your days. And tonight his self-comforting words were enough to rock his mind back to sleep and would most likely do the trick until the stroke took him.
A “she” would find him.
But “she” wouldn’t have known who he was, and “she” would never know that he waited for her every day and talked to her every night.
“She” was just wondering why he hadn’t turned on his lights or tried to look through her blinds for the past four days.
The hunch paid off.
Too bad, “she” never tried the eggs ala "Henrique."
Now to the tale...take care. Love ya.
Egg Strokes
Moving in a little closer with every second he was now a perfect mold of the figure lying next to him. He had gently swayed here and inched there in order to receive the maximum amount of touch combined with the least amount of space allowed to two figures. Henry gently chooses his words as he leans over to the beauty now occupying his bed and mind
.
“I…I really don’t know how to tell you all that I am thinking.”
She remains silent not knowing what to expect.
“You see, I was so pleased to run into you again today…after first talking to you I, I thought that I would never see you again. You seemed so, so, so…”
He had always stumbled over his words whenever relaying emotion.
“You, see…I mean someone, so, well, so lovely,” the word stuck to his tongue like honey to a spoon slowly dripping off the subtle, round tip into the cup of tea that was his pent up desires and dreams.
“And there you were again today. I just knew that I had to take advantage of the situation. I can’t tell you how, well just, how…great it is to have you over here with me.”
Feeling a little more at ease and one with the environment Henry looks around the baron room and begins to remember the days when he and his mother would often sit in this same one-room apartment and watch their programs together. She was always a fan of the afternoon dramas whereas he hadn’t ever really preferred any specific program but more or less used the time to get away from the drudgeries of daily life. He had a typical upbringing: not enough coddling, “latch-key” kid, parent’s divorced, never allowed to have a dog, picked on at school, but later accepted by those more conducive to mediocrity, etc., etc. Henry was nothing special by any means.
With his eyes floating casually about the room his tongue became more and more relaxed and his thoughts drifted through time and he went to work picking memories and words out of the air like a mother chimp picking the ticks off the back of her young.
“You know, it was right-over in that chair that my mother died 15 years ago.”
His “matter-of-fact” tone may have shaken some, but the young lady didn’t move from her stead under his arm and he smiled to himself while thinking of the time when he and his mother first moved into this place; but then quickly refocusing on the demise of mama.
His smile now replaced with a grin and “matter-of” replaced with “down-trodden” tone.
“I just found her slumped over in the chair hands dangling at her sides and her hair fallen over her face. She looked peaceful. Must have waited till the end of ‘days’ before she passed. She did like that doctor on the program. Probably waited till the show was over to go. Wish she could have met someone like that before the end. Just too bad. But…we don’t make the rules, just have to adhere to them.”
Henry hadn’t missed his father. He hadn’t even been angry with the man; you can’t hate what you don’t know. He hadn’t really loved his mother, but he felt a genuine attachment to her, at least through time. When he was young she used to sit alone at times and look as though she was dying. He would see the look when all was quite and he would gaze over at her for all the reasons a fatherless child looks at his mother; maybe guidance; maybe a smile; any little bit of emotion. It was then that he would see the emptiness and loss in her will. He would see her eyes fall gently upon an object and become absorbed, it was as though she was looking through all of existence, just peering into it unobtrusively and lovingly; it was then that she looked content and sometimes even happy. Then she would catch herself and look over at her only son and companion and reality would settle into what was the perfect daydream of love and happiness. It was at that point that a certain realization and disappointment hit her and occupied her corneas until bedtime.
When Henry reached the age of 34, and found himself alone and disinterested in looking anymore, he began to stumble off into the same false-reality when watching television alone and a commercial came on. He would usually stare at the product being pitched but would slowly wander off. Eyes wandering around the room hither and thither, to and fro, usually ending up on the coffee table. With his mind flying through space and time he would gather up the visions that he had of love and relationships. The visions of coy kisses and loving embraces would race through his head. He would imagine lazy Sunday mornings and smiles exchanged over his eggs ala “Henrique” (2 eggs, scrambled, mixed with cubed Velvetta and Salsa). It was truly a grand ideal. But it would end with the squealing of tires on the television; or, if the vision was really good, his own neck snapping back into place from believing too much in his own sappy dreams. This sudden attack of reality served a dual purpose: it let him know that he was still sad, both mentally and physically, and it also reminded him that his program was most likely not over yet as well.
Just as the reality of being alone reminds him of his current state of being, reality sometimes also reminds him of how to act while in the company of women. Right about now reality reminded him that his new friend would most likely not want to hear how the Grim Reaper had called his mother a gander and not a mallard in the big game of life that is all too much like Duck-Duck-Goose. Or at least that was the conclusion that Henry had reached considering the fact that the woman hadn’t made a sound in a while.
Like the oaf that he is, his air escaped from his chest declaring his mark for life, “Oooooaffff, uh, uh…I’m sure that you didn’t want to hear anything about that at a time like this. I mean, we should just be enjoying the moment. I promise I won’t say another word…promise…cross my heart,” silent for the moment…but his lack of self-confidence wouldn’t let the desire pass, “hope to die.” Quickly he turns onto his stomach and buries his head into the pillow, deliberately digging in deeper and deeper. His will power has been both humiliated and defeated. In the back of his mind he declares himself the weakest man alive and imagines an award ceremony where he would eventually forget his speech and trip on the steeps while approaching the podium.
Then he thinks about that line, “hope to die.” Henry rarely “hopes” for death. But sometimes at night he lays about in bed tossing and turning feeling as though he has done the day a disservice for not getting exhausted under it’s light and energy. But most of all he thinks about love and what possible relationships he has on the horizon. Which, as of late, were far and few between; but he was an optimist. However his optimism has been subsiding to fears of premature death and a life of loneliness. Lately he has been spending a lot of time wondering who will find him in a coma after suffering his first stroke.
No one would probably stop by for days or maybe even weeks.
His work place was accustomed to his face, but didn’t really need him around, and could, for all practical purposes, function without his presence. Like so many other nights he was now drifting off to that place between sleep and the final thoughts of a wasted day.
Sweet release. No more worries about strokes and wasted hours…
As the refrigerator’s cooler slipped on in Henry’s dark and earthly colored apartment he was brought back from the sleep side of the final thought and forced into full realization that he didn’t want to die. He really, really didn’t want to die. As he thought about the inevitable and impending stroke, that he was convinced would come any day now, a single tear fell from his eye and he whispered his mantra back to limbo; hoping that this time sleep would win the battle.
“Soon enough you’ll have her here. Soon enough someone will be here for you in the morning. Someday you’ll find her. Someday you’ll know she loves you. Some day you’ll share the eggs and paper. Some day, soon, some day, before you know it, you’ll…find, it…soo…”
Off he goes to the land of no remorse, the greatest form of denial: sleep. Even if you find yourself naked in public or falling off of a building there the worst reality you have to deal with is a bead of sweat or a subtle laugh to greet your days. And tonight his self-comforting words were enough to rock his mind back to sleep and would most likely do the trick until the stroke took him.
A “she” would find him.
But “she” wouldn’t have known who he was, and “she” would never know that he waited for her every day and talked to her every night.
“She” was just wondering why he hadn’t turned on his lights or tried to look through her blinds for the past four days.
The hunch paid off.
Too bad, “she” never tried the eggs ala "Henrique."
1.11.2005
Today's Headlines...
Today’s Top Story…
Have you ever just sat back and thought about how much of your life is, or has been, affected by two simple words? “Yes” and “No” are two of the first things that you learn and most likely they are two of the most used words in anyone’s vocabulary. The reason that I am bringing this to your attention is because I have been asked to make a choice that requires me to state one of the two terms listed above.
“Do I want to stay in Japan for another year?”
Honestly, like so many other things, I don’t know. I am enjoying this place just fine, but is this were I want to spent another year of my life?
Since coming here I have spent quite a bit of time on this question and have found that my answer varies day to day. Today feels like a “yes” day, but tomorrow could easily be a “no.” Who knows?
I know that if I were to ask my mother what she thought she would most likely tell me “no,” and that is an answer that I could easily listen to. But am I then selling myself short?
What do I have to gain?
What do I have to loose?
Next year I would come home for Christmas. Next year I would be more prepared for class. Next year I could maybe save some money and actually travel.
Then again next year I could be attending school in the states and working towards my masters degree…in what I do not know.
“Life is full of important choices,” or so the poster with the collection of beer cans from around the world tells me. Is this one important? Is it a life or death situation?
Who knows?
Not me.
In other news…
I went to church last Sunday. It was a nice mass conducted by a kind looking old priest. I think he was Spanish, French maybe, I’m not certain. But I do know that his accent made it a little difficult for me to understand his Homily. Although I did gather that it had something to do with either paying or praying…or maybe it was prancing. Something like that. Another nice ambiance was the music. It seemed as though all of the songs were older hymns that were written in the key of uncertainty, or perhaps it was just this parish’s interpretation, I’m not certain. But I do know that I have never been privy to such a group of confused cantors. It was fun. They didn’t know whether to start or stop, or what key to sing in. Thus many people just didn’t sing and those that were I think took every other line for a good laugh; I know I did.
Either way it was an enjoyable event and it definitely reminded me that God’s work is done through ordinary people that can’t really sing worth a nickel and priest’s that stumble over their words when giving a sermon in a second language. Who’s to blame the man? I can’t read, let alone speak, in any other language besides my own.
Another interesting side note: I haven’t seen so many white folks in one place since I left at O’Hare. The ratio of cracker to wafer was defiantly a close one…
And Now in Sporting News…
In a quest to hurt and alarm as many Japanese folks as possible I threw my hat into the ring for the 31st Annual Tiger Bowl held at a local University (a two-hand touch American-Football tournament). I was drafted into the only team containing foreigners, the OTC Rangers (I don’t know, so don’t ask). All together the 12-man team consisted of about 5 who had played before and the rest not having a clue what they were supposed to do. After a quick tutorial we were set to play, or at least they told us that if we wanted to remain in the tournament we had better play.
The first game was against a first round winner (we had a bye) that contained some University Alums and a few younger guys. We received and held onto the ball for almost the entire first half while marching down the field. With about 2 minutes left in the first half we scored what would be our only touchdown of the day. It was pretty.
The second half was a battle between our astounding defense and poor offense. We didn’t score again, but we didn’t need to, as the clock quickly moved through the second half leaving us the victors due to our first half score. We were in the championships.
With an air of lethargy and Sapporo wafting about the Rangers they settled in to rage war against the defending Japanese National Champions…high school champions that is. Okay, so I felt kind of bad going up against a bunch of youngsters, but they lined up against us and they were acting as though they really wanted to go at it. So we did. And youth prevailed in overtime scoring off of an 8-yard quarterback keeper. Those guys were fast. One highlight from this game would have to be a defensive fumble recovery on the one yard line by yours truly and the many elbows that I intentionally threw in the face of these little wise-asses. I don’t know what they were saying, but I didn’t like their looks.
In the end I found that, like most Japanese social functions, there was a lot of tradition/ceremonial mumbo-jumbo associated with such events. We had to constantly bow and constantly line-up to hear announcements and what not. And at the end of the day each of the three top teams took a minute and said something about the day as they handed out the awards. And as I stood there a little tired and dismayed at loosing to the younger and much smaller opposition I heard what I thought was my name being called out. Then I heard it again and looked up this time only to see my teammates telling me to go to the front. I didn’t know what to think. When I got up there the MC handed me a certificate and someone told me that it was the MVP award. I was truly surprised…I didn’t think that I had been the best player out of these 70+ men surrounding me. But they thought that I was, so happily and with much excitement I turned around a held up the award and was then told that I needed to get my plaque as well. Plaque? Wha? It’s nice. But I’m not totally convinced that MVP doesn’t really mean Most Visible Player as opposed to Most Valuable Player. Eh, who am I to question it? I am pretty good…at least in Japan.
So for those of you that are keeping track of my exploits over here in the Orient I have now buried a deaf-person in Rugby and intentionally knocked over and elbowed high school kids in two-hand touch Football. Call me what you will but I know what I am: an accomplished sportsman and an MVP recipient at the 31st Annual Tiger Bowl.
Have you ever just sat back and thought about how much of your life is, or has been, affected by two simple words? “Yes” and “No” are two of the first things that you learn and most likely they are two of the most used words in anyone’s vocabulary. The reason that I am bringing this to your attention is because I have been asked to make a choice that requires me to state one of the two terms listed above.
“Do I want to stay in Japan for another year?”
Honestly, like so many other things, I don’t know. I am enjoying this place just fine, but is this were I want to spent another year of my life?
Since coming here I have spent quite a bit of time on this question and have found that my answer varies day to day. Today feels like a “yes” day, but tomorrow could easily be a “no.” Who knows?
I know that if I were to ask my mother what she thought she would most likely tell me “no,” and that is an answer that I could easily listen to. But am I then selling myself short?
What do I have to gain?
What do I have to loose?
Next year I would come home for Christmas. Next year I would be more prepared for class. Next year I could maybe save some money and actually travel.
Then again next year I could be attending school in the states and working towards my masters degree…in what I do not know.
“Life is full of important choices,” or so the poster with the collection of beer cans from around the world tells me. Is this one important? Is it a life or death situation?
Who knows?
Not me.
In other news…
I went to church last Sunday. It was a nice mass conducted by a kind looking old priest. I think he was Spanish, French maybe, I’m not certain. But I do know that his accent made it a little difficult for me to understand his Homily. Although I did gather that it had something to do with either paying or praying…or maybe it was prancing. Something like that. Another nice ambiance was the music. It seemed as though all of the songs were older hymns that were written in the key of uncertainty, or perhaps it was just this parish’s interpretation, I’m not certain. But I do know that I have never been privy to such a group of confused cantors. It was fun. They didn’t know whether to start or stop, or what key to sing in. Thus many people just didn’t sing and those that were I think took every other line for a good laugh; I know I did.
Either way it was an enjoyable event and it definitely reminded me that God’s work is done through ordinary people that can’t really sing worth a nickel and priest’s that stumble over their words when giving a sermon in a second language. Who’s to blame the man? I can’t read, let alone speak, in any other language besides my own.
Another interesting side note: I haven’t seen so many white folks in one place since I left at O’Hare. The ratio of cracker to wafer was defiantly a close one…
And Now in Sporting News…
In a quest to hurt and alarm as many Japanese folks as possible I threw my hat into the ring for the 31st Annual Tiger Bowl held at a local University (a two-hand touch American-Football tournament). I was drafted into the only team containing foreigners, the OTC Rangers (I don’t know, so don’t ask). All together the 12-man team consisted of about 5 who had played before and the rest not having a clue what they were supposed to do. After a quick tutorial we were set to play, or at least they told us that if we wanted to remain in the tournament we had better play.
The first game was against a first round winner (we had a bye) that contained some University Alums and a few younger guys. We received and held onto the ball for almost the entire first half while marching down the field. With about 2 minutes left in the first half we scored what would be our only touchdown of the day. It was pretty.
The second half was a battle between our astounding defense and poor offense. We didn’t score again, but we didn’t need to, as the clock quickly moved through the second half leaving us the victors due to our first half score. We were in the championships.
With an air of lethargy and Sapporo wafting about the Rangers they settled in to rage war against the defending Japanese National Champions…high school champions that is. Okay, so I felt kind of bad going up against a bunch of youngsters, but they lined up against us and they were acting as though they really wanted to go at it. So we did. And youth prevailed in overtime scoring off of an 8-yard quarterback keeper. Those guys were fast. One highlight from this game would have to be a defensive fumble recovery on the one yard line by yours truly and the many elbows that I intentionally threw in the face of these little wise-asses. I don’t know what they were saying, but I didn’t like their looks.
In the end I found that, like most Japanese social functions, there was a lot of tradition/ceremonial mumbo-jumbo associated with such events. We had to constantly bow and constantly line-up to hear announcements and what not. And at the end of the day each of the three top teams took a minute and said something about the day as they handed out the awards. And as I stood there a little tired and dismayed at loosing to the younger and much smaller opposition I heard what I thought was my name being called out. Then I heard it again and looked up this time only to see my teammates telling me to go to the front. I didn’t know what to think. When I got up there the MC handed me a certificate and someone told me that it was the MVP award. I was truly surprised…I didn’t think that I had been the best player out of these 70+ men surrounding me. But they thought that I was, so happily and with much excitement I turned around a held up the award and was then told that I needed to get my plaque as well. Plaque? Wha? It’s nice. But I’m not totally convinced that MVP doesn’t really mean Most Visible Player as opposed to Most Valuable Player. Eh, who am I to question it? I am pretty good…at least in Japan.
So for those of you that are keeping track of my exploits over here in the Orient I have now buried a deaf-person in Rugby and intentionally knocked over and elbowed high school kids in two-hand touch Football. Call me what you will but I know what I am: an accomplished sportsman and an MVP recipient at the 31st Annual Tiger Bowl.
1.08.2005
New Additions
With all of these new additions I hope that you all don't forget to check out the writings as well. I hope that you enjoy the pictures though. If it is too much to look at the pictures here I can just give you all the address to where the pictures are posted originally (http://www.flickr.com/photos/89577954@N00/). Please, let me know what you think. And be sure to take care of yourself. Thank you very much.
What all the kids want for Christmas
For about ¥1,288,000 (about $12, 800) you too could own a pair of monkeys. Shots not guaranteed.
Osaka at night
The big city near where I live (about 15minutes via train). Beautiful night view. Oh look, it's raining. Imagine that...
Osetshidori (spelling may be wrong)
Traditional Oshogatsu (New Year's celebration) meal. Made to eat for the first three days of the new year (so that the women of the house don't have to cook). Oshi ne?
Flamenco Party
A nice photo of one happy group of kids at a flamenco party hosted by the Spanish consulate. The big guy, no not me-the other one, was the guitar player. Nice guy. He really rocked out on that flamenco stuff. Note: I do not know the person farthest to the left, but he/she does not look happy.
pervert
Think this kid knows what that hat means? Well in case he looks at this site it means "hentaisha" in Romanji. Dirty little boy.
View from Eichi Campus
Random view from the campus on which I teach. Quaint little place I got here.
Porcupine Fish at Osaka Aquarium
This was by far cooler than the lame whale shark. Plus I think that it is a little more dangerous. And "no" I haven't eaten this fish sashimi style...yet.
1.06.2005
Snow in Kobe
It might not look like much, but it is actually a Japanese snow storm. No Tsunami...thank you God.
Singing in the New Year. Ha!
Stevie Wonder does it again...bringing the communication gap a little closer.
At least I didn't gain 20 pounds this season...
Another year has past and here I am one day ahead already. This is truly great, I feel as though I am light-years’ ahead of all of my peers. I was the first of the whole lot to put my New Years Resolutions into practice and I was the first one to welcome the actual New Year, you ungrateful group you. I've got 15 hours of productivity to beat you all with!
Well, how was your new year? Productive and exciting I am sure. I spent the night with a bunch of Cambodian folks. Nice folks them Cambod’s. They cooked and entertained me with Cambodian culinary and karaoke skills. The combination was a complete success! One of the most astounding features of the group was the simple fact that they all spoke English so well…I really wish that they were all my students; because if they were every class would be like a…really easy English as a foreign language class (I challenge you to come up with a better analogy).
So what do all of you want to accomplish in the New Year? Loose weight? Get your pectorals into shape for the beach this summer? Whatever it may be, good luck. My own resolution is a big secret. It’s life altering though, I’ll tell you that.
“What else is new?” You may be asking…well to be honest, not a whole hell of a lot. I have been doing a lot of sitting lately. But it hasn’t been just any ole sitting, oh no. It’s been stuff like sitting in my room on the floor and sometimes in a chair. Why even right now I am sitting in a different location, I’m in my office! I’ve also sat on a few buses and trains lately. I took a trip to an exhibit of “The Art of Star Wars,” and lived vicariously through most of the people I knew in high school. They would be so jealous if they knew all that I had seen. For instance: the Gold Bikini from Jabba’s palace (you know the one that 9 out of 10 young men fantasized about while growing up between 1982-1989), I also saw the original Millennium Falcon and that big Cruiser ship at the beginning of Episode IV. It was pretty cool. Jealous? I hope so because that was the main reason that I even went. It was pretty neat-o though. But I didn’t get to sit for that one, had to stand the whole time.
Where else have I sat lately? Hmmmm…well I sat all crossed legged while enjoying the Japanese holiday of Oshogatsu, or the New Year’s celebration. We sat around for a few days and ate lots and lots of Naba. This is an interesting and tasty dish which is made by taking all sorts of meat and vegetables and cooking them at the table in an earthen dish by boiling them in a type of stock. Sounds bland I know, but it is pretty delish in all actuality.
Other then those few things I haven’t done too much. Oh wait; I recently looked over at the calendar and saw that Christmas has pasted since my last post. Well that doesn’t matter…it’s an old calendar and I am pretty sure that God had the date moved so that I wouldn’t commit the awful crime of spending it away from my family and friends. But just in case you all didn’t get the memo, happy Merry Christmas (as commonly said in Japan, silly folks, they think that the holiday is actually “Merry Christmas”).
Did you know that they have KFC in Japan? Did you also know that it is widely believed that fried chicken is thought to be the traditional meal over here? That wouldn’t be all that bad…it would save a lot of people the trouble of making whatever it is that you usually eat on Christmas. Plus it would be good for the colonel, and what’s good for the colonel is good for the country. You love America right? Well eat your KFC.
For the most part people don’t really celebrate Christmas, including me this year, as a result of only 1% of the population being Christians. But the holiday mentioned earlier, Oshogatsu, is used as the big winter holiday and it was traditionally a day in which families would celebrate their birthdays together. This is to say that it didn’t matter what day you were really born, everyone celebrated his or her birthday on this day. A nice little “hey you made it through another year in your life,” kind of celebration. Nice thought eh. Well I will tell you one thing about the holiday, you eat enough cabbage to keep you regular throughout the entire celebration, if not the entire month. Whew.
Well…I think that I shall run and sit at yet another location. I hope that all is well for those that read this, for the rest I’ll just say we’ll deal with you later…I bet they won’t even see it coming. Take care and enjoy the holidays, or what’s left of them. Love ya!
Well, how was your new year? Productive and exciting I am sure. I spent the night with a bunch of Cambodian folks. Nice folks them Cambod’s. They cooked and entertained me with Cambodian culinary and karaoke skills. The combination was a complete success! One of the most astounding features of the group was the simple fact that they all spoke English so well…I really wish that they were all my students; because if they were every class would be like a…really easy English as a foreign language class (I challenge you to come up with a better analogy).
So what do all of you want to accomplish in the New Year? Loose weight? Get your pectorals into shape for the beach this summer? Whatever it may be, good luck. My own resolution is a big secret. It’s life altering though, I’ll tell you that.
“What else is new?” You may be asking…well to be honest, not a whole hell of a lot. I have been doing a lot of sitting lately. But it hasn’t been just any ole sitting, oh no. It’s been stuff like sitting in my room on the floor and sometimes in a chair. Why even right now I am sitting in a different location, I’m in my office! I’ve also sat on a few buses and trains lately. I took a trip to an exhibit of “The Art of Star Wars,” and lived vicariously through most of the people I knew in high school. They would be so jealous if they knew all that I had seen. For instance: the Gold Bikini from Jabba’s palace (you know the one that 9 out of 10 young men fantasized about while growing up between 1982-1989), I also saw the original Millennium Falcon and that big Cruiser ship at the beginning of Episode IV. It was pretty cool. Jealous? I hope so because that was the main reason that I even went. It was pretty neat-o though. But I didn’t get to sit for that one, had to stand the whole time.
Where else have I sat lately? Hmmmm…well I sat all crossed legged while enjoying the Japanese holiday of Oshogatsu, or the New Year’s celebration. We sat around for a few days and ate lots and lots of Naba. This is an interesting and tasty dish which is made by taking all sorts of meat and vegetables and cooking them at the table in an earthen dish by boiling them in a type of stock. Sounds bland I know, but it is pretty delish in all actuality.
Other then those few things I haven’t done too much. Oh wait; I recently looked over at the calendar and saw that Christmas has pasted since my last post. Well that doesn’t matter…it’s an old calendar and I am pretty sure that God had the date moved so that I wouldn’t commit the awful crime of spending it away from my family and friends. But just in case you all didn’t get the memo, happy Merry Christmas (as commonly said in Japan, silly folks, they think that the holiday is actually “Merry Christmas”).
Did you know that they have KFC in Japan? Did you also know that it is widely believed that fried chicken is thought to be the traditional meal over here? That wouldn’t be all that bad…it would save a lot of people the trouble of making whatever it is that you usually eat on Christmas. Plus it would be good for the colonel, and what’s good for the colonel is good for the country. You love America right? Well eat your KFC.
For the most part people don’t really celebrate Christmas, including me this year, as a result of only 1% of the population being Christians. But the holiday mentioned earlier, Oshogatsu, is used as the big winter holiday and it was traditionally a day in which families would celebrate their birthdays together. This is to say that it didn’t matter what day you were really born, everyone celebrated his or her birthday on this day. A nice little “hey you made it through another year in your life,” kind of celebration. Nice thought eh. Well I will tell you one thing about the holiday, you eat enough cabbage to keep you regular throughout the entire celebration, if not the entire month. Whew.
Well…I think that I shall run and sit at yet another location. I hope that all is well for those that read this, for the rest I’ll just say we’ll deal with you later…I bet they won’t even see it coming. Take care and enjoy the holidays, or what’s left of them. Love ya!
12.16.2004
おは四語会います!
How is everyone today? Good I hope. Upon the request of a friend I am going to let you all know what a usual day for me is here at Sapientia University, or Eichi University; we have two names here and most people still have never heard of the school (or schools...Depends who you ask). So here it is.....
7:30am-Wake up, stretch, and go for a run. Hahahahahaha. Just kidding. I'm usually still sleeping about this time; but there was this one time when I got up and went for a jog. It was alright and all. But I really like sleeping too.
between 9 and 9:20am-Usually the time to get up. I have my first class at 9:30, so I at least need to splash some water on my face and go pee. Most of the time I wish that I had some breakfast, but I am really bad about grocery shopping...mostly because the stores only have products with some sort of a foreign writing. So unless I want to live off of noodles that only require hot water, cereal, or food products of that nature, I have to either get my meals from a convenience store (which isn't all bad), or I have to learn to read, cook, and eat mostly all Japanese. Which isn't going to happen anytime too soon.
9:30-Class. Okay, so I will break down the best and the worst things about my students. Best: they are always and usually constantly amusing. Some speak English very well and some don't really want to try. The classes that I teach are non-credit courses and are used by the students to merely assist them in speaking English more naturally. Therefore most of the students have a very good understanding of how to speak, or they at least know a few words. This is good as I am not really an expert in such things as linguistics or in teaching English as a foreign language; as many of you may know my own English skills have often been brought into question, the best example being when I took the ACT and received an 8 on the Grammar Usage and Mechanics section. Don't let 'em know. They rely heavily on standardized tests and are likely to take my score as losing face. I don't know about you but I am a sucker for peer pressure and one of the only ways to regain face (or respect) is that fancy ritualistically suicide, and I don't know if I would be able to say "no" if they asked me to help them out in the aforementioned way. Seriously though, this is a horrible cultural joke. The Japanese practice of harakiri (はらきり) has essentially ceased since Japan has become more westernized since opening it's doors again in 1853, after 213 years of total isolation. I am sure that some still take part in this exciting ritual; but it is no more apart of their daily life now as lynching is in America.
Moving on...
I teach classes from about 9:30 until 4pm. Not a bad day. On my busy days I have classes back to back, but there are a few days a week when I have some free time. Which is not all bad think that the hardest part about teaching here is that I don't know how well I am doing. No one really wants to criticize or offer up suggestions...Maybe that's a good thing.
Nighttime: Well, my nights are quite varied. Usually they involve eating and sleeping. Sometimes we jump on the train and head out to Umeda (station within the city of Osaka). Some nights I cook dinner...or at least eat a sandwich that I bought at the local convenience store. One thing I don't do too much of is watch TV. As mentioned before this option is pretty much not there. But I do rent videos of the great American TV show 24. It's pretty darn good.
Pretty exciting huh...You may be thinking, "well Dan I expected a little more than that. But it does sound different." Well it isn't all bad. There are some other things that I have left out. But they are difficult to explain. The people's expressions when I am on the streets are interesting. They are neither ever happy nor surprised by me. Not too many smiles nor too many scowls. Just blah looks. See I can't explain it.
Well I think that I am about done with this post. Sorry if I didn't do it any justice Erik. It was a good idea. I just screwed it a bit. Alright then. Take care. I love you all.
7:30am-Wake up, stretch, and go for a run. Hahahahahaha. Just kidding. I'm usually still sleeping about this time; but there was this one time when I got up and went for a jog. It was alright and all. But I really like sleeping too.
between 9 and 9:20am-Usually the time to get up. I have my first class at 9:30, so I at least need to splash some water on my face and go pee. Most of the time I wish that I had some breakfast, but I am really bad about grocery shopping...mostly because the stores only have products with some sort of a foreign writing. So unless I want to live off of noodles that only require hot water, cereal, or food products of that nature, I have to either get my meals from a convenience store (which isn't all bad), or I have to learn to read, cook, and eat mostly all Japanese. Which isn't going to happen anytime too soon.
9:30-Class. Okay, so I will break down the best and the worst things about my students. Best: they are always and usually constantly amusing. Some speak English very well and some don't really want to try. The classes that I teach are non-credit courses and are used by the students to merely assist them in speaking English more naturally. Therefore most of the students have a very good understanding of how to speak, or they at least know a few words. This is good as I am not really an expert in such things as linguistics or in teaching English as a foreign language; as many of you may know my own English skills have often been brought into question, the best example being when I took the ACT and received an 8 on the Grammar Usage and Mechanics section. Don't let 'em know. They rely heavily on standardized tests and are likely to take my score as losing face. I don't know about you but I am a sucker for peer pressure and one of the only ways to regain face (or respect) is that fancy ritualistically suicide, and I don't know if I would be able to say "no" if they asked me to help them out in the aforementioned way. Seriously though, this is a horrible cultural joke. The Japanese practice of harakiri (はらきり) has essentially ceased since Japan has become more westernized since opening it's doors again in 1853, after 213 years of total isolation. I am sure that some still take part in this exciting ritual; but it is no more apart of their daily life now as lynching is in America.
Moving on...
I teach classes from about 9:30 until 4pm. Not a bad day. On my busy days I have classes back to back, but there are a few days a week when I have some free time. Which is not all bad think that the hardest part about teaching here is that I don't know how well I am doing. No one really wants to criticize or offer up suggestions...Maybe that's a good thing.
Nighttime: Well, my nights are quite varied. Usually they involve eating and sleeping. Sometimes we jump on the train and head out to Umeda (station within the city of Osaka). Some nights I cook dinner...or at least eat a sandwich that I bought at the local convenience store. One thing I don't do too much of is watch TV. As mentioned before this option is pretty much not there. But I do rent videos of the great American TV show 24. It's pretty darn good.
Pretty exciting huh...You may be thinking, "well Dan I expected a little more than that. But it does sound different." Well it isn't all bad. There are some other things that I have left out. But they are difficult to explain. The people's expressions when I am on the streets are interesting. They are neither ever happy nor surprised by me. Not too many smiles nor too many scowls. Just blah looks. See I can't explain it.
Well I think that I am about done with this post. Sorry if I didn't do it any justice Erik. It was a good idea. I just screwed it a bit. Alright then. Take care. I love you all.
12.09.2004
How have you been?
Well my friends it has been a while. Sorry for the delay in humor and insightful enlightenment on the Japanese culture, but I was away for a bit. But now I am back. To those of you that may not know, my Grandmother passed away recently and I journeyed back to the States to pay my respects and attend the funeral. For this reason I would like to dedicate this post to the life that she led.
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
11.15.2004
J-Pan Boogie, duhdadanant, duhdadanant, J-Pan Boogie, duhdadanant, duhdadanant…
To begin this day’s update I shall first tell you a funny little story; here she goes. So I was out to eat at a fine little restaurant (where I ate a pizza with lil’ smokey’s, you know, those funny little snausages, ham, and hardboiled egg…I didn’t even request these toppings, it’s just what’s popular here I guess) and was chatting away with a fellow Loras grad and I began to take note of a discomforting presence in my nose, a bat in the cave if you will. I began to poke at it slightly and inconspicuously. Soon enough I realized that my efforts were futile and that it was embedded like a CNN reporter in Iraq. After a quick recon of the table top I noticed a real rarity here in Japan: napkins (this may sound odd, because it is…hardly any of the restaurants here give you napkins of any sort. But they do give you warm towels…which are quite nice). So I grabbed one of the free paper products occupying the corner of our cozy nook and answered the life long question of, “How do you make a napkin dance? You put a little boogie in it!” Ha. Really though I honked away in the napkin until I took care of the little nose insurgent with extreme prejudice and quite a bit of malice as well. Cultural note: Japanese people are really “into” cleanliness. This means that when they are sick they wear those little surgical masks in public. Needless to say I thought that I was about to have a lynch mob surround me and find the nearest bonsai over 6’5”. Boy oh boy was my face red! As soon as I opened my eyes after a resounding and pleasing blow I caught the glare of at least six or seven people’s eyes burning their Japanese hate rays deep into my soul. Okay, that was at least how I felt; but after a quick and honest, “すみません,” or “Sumimasen,” those that were previously staring at me were now laughing at me. I think that they caught onto the fact that I was not bringing the second coming of SARS, but was just in my own world and had forgotten that this place is a little uptight about germs…I am just glad that no body informed them of cooties.
Side story: last year when the SARS epidemic hit China this fine little country that I am temporarily calling home began to fear an invasion. Not the little commies themselves, just their disease. Then the poo hit the ceiling fan in the form of a visitor that later obtained the virus after returning home to the land of Mao. In order to secure the future of J-Pan the government decided that a purge must take place. Not to be confused with past atrocities or pending genocides. I am speaking strictly of germs that may have been left behind by the now is sick, but once was fine, tourist. They began at the airport and continued to visit each and every place that the man had visited; with determined and spectacular zeal. It was major news, or so those that were here tell me. Everyday there were headlines revealing where it was that the man had visited. For example, “Sources say he went to Universal Studios Japan, Cleaning Imminent!” or something like that…I wouldn’t know exactly as I was absent.
“So, what else is new?” you may be thinking. Well you have caught me on a good day, one in which I feel like writing about all of the things that I haven’t really informed you of. For example: have I told you about the bikes in this country? Whew, there are a lot. However I will not take you down the path of boring detail about such things. But I will give you a rough outline of such a boring topic. Here it goes: the bicycles here are all like my older sister’s old bike (yes the one that I used to ride and consequently left outside without a lock and am guilty of allowing it to be stolen. Sorry Sarah) so back to the bikes, they are all shaped similar to those littering the beaches of Florida retirement community, this is to say that they all have the lowered middle bar, curved handles, and long, slender fenders. Another standard option is the stylish and oh so attractive basket. They are a little feminine, but for some odd reason they are also a lot of fun. I once read an article in a magazine given to me by a co-worker that described the adventures of a freakin’ idiot that decided to ride his bike everywhere for a month. Of course it was a tale of fitness and fun! Or that was the yarn that the writer wanted to spin. I didn’t buy it. But then I came here. A land in which you have no choice whether or not you want to ride a bike. My often find my subconscious giving me little pep talks that sound similar to this dialogue, “Do you want to go somewhere? Well get your rear on your bike and peddle fatty.”
As one could guess the furniture in this country is quite similar to the people, places, and things: small. Before leaving the states I told many people that I was expecting to break many different things; such as chairs and other random objects. This was mostly as joke, but nonetheless, I thought that it would be inevitable. Up until now I have proven myself wrong and have left much of the furniture weakened, but not in pieces. Yeah for me. But I cannot say the same for bicycle tires; of which I have gone through two. Explanation: the first was on the bike that I inherited upon arrival. It was a fine bike, at least I am sure that it was quite a catch back in the late 70’s when it was in it’s prime. But by the time that I got to it she was creakin’ more than a geriatric jazzer-cizer bending over to put on her leotard. Not to mention the fact that the tires were as worn as my lovely friend and former co-worker’s knees after a weekend of playing “cops and robbers” with his long time friend and man in uniform.
Bottom line: the bike was old. I am dumb. I did not have a tire gauge and inflated the tires way too much so “pop” went the back tire. Not my fault; at least as far as I am concerned. Next week I purchased my own bicycle as I thought that it would make more sense then me paying to get the old piece of poo fixed.
So I picked out the nice baby blue one. It was the cheapest one and I thought that the color would assist in me being able to identify it in public more easily as I often forget where I parked my bike. No I am not always drunk, but there are a lot, and trust me I mean a lot, of bikes in this country.
And then there was the second tire. Okay, so this one may leave me with a little more guilt then the last. I was stupid and tried to jump up on some stairs with my new and smooth blue bike. Whoops. Not a good idea, I admit it. But here’s the kicker: I was given a ride early last Saturday in a truck, with bike in tow, to a place that would fix the ole girl up. When we arrived I noticed that I did not bring my bike key (all bikes in Japan have a really simple lock that is attached directly above the tire of choice, either front or back, that simply slips between the bike frame and in-between the spokes, thus limiting the movement of the tire. Think of what happens when you place a stick between the spokes of a person’s bike: it stops or at least ceases to be able to move. わかりますか？wakarimasuka-do you understand?).
My ride left after we were informed that it would take about 30 minutes to get the bike fixed. I was tired and feeling a little absent minded and said my goodbyes without a second thought. What could possibly be the problem? I was about to have my fairly new bike back in tip top shape in about 20 more minutes. Right? Oh yeah…I forgot the key.
After 30 minutes the bike was ready to go; but I wasn’t. Ho hum. Oh well. So I hoisted the completely working and just repaired bicycle over my shoulder and began my ten-minute walk back to my home.
As stated before I feel a little out of place at times. Especially when in public. Well this time things were a little different. This time people stared for a little longer and wondered a little harder, or so I am convinced. I really do wish that I could have spoken Japanese at this point and time in my journey; because I would have loved to tell each and every one of them, “I’m stealing this bike. You wouldn’t happen to have a saw or something like that would you?” How would they have responded? I think that they would have looked in their trunk for me; they really are so kind and submissive. But I could only imagine that many of the people who crossed my path began to think, “damn. I wish that I could speak English. I’d love to tell that idiot that he’s supposed to ride that thing not carry it. Poor guy. No wonder Bush got re-elected…”
Well I’ll have to be honest; I think that you got off lucky this time. I was going to go into detail about some of the food that I ate this weekend, as it was a little uncommon from the general experience that I have gotten while I’ve been here. But I am almost to three pages…oops, I mean four…and I honestly don’t think that many of you have the time or patience to read this much. But I will tell you that this past weekend I picked at the head of a squid covered in Mayonnaise. During the same treat I also ate an unidentified food-item, which I would like to remain unknown to be honest. You know that piece of the chicken, I think that it is the tale-bone or something like that, that is really rubbery but still semi-soft? You know the one; it’s chewy enough that you will keep it in your mouth for about 20 seconds before you spit it into your napkin and then cut into your piece of chicken at which point you notice that there is a whole chunk of semi-bone/cartilage like substance on your plate. Well I ate a whole bowl of something like that.
There was actually one point this weekend when I really wanted to take detailed notes of the shit that they eat here because you really wouldn’t believe it. If you have ever thought that seaweed, or kelp, was strange then you should try what is referred to as “devils tongue.” Half the time I can’t tell if a food item is animal, mineral, or human waste. Enough is enough. Have a good one and I hope that you have a nice day.
Side story: last year when the SARS epidemic hit China this fine little country that I am temporarily calling home began to fear an invasion. Not the little commies themselves, just their disease. Then the poo hit the ceiling fan in the form of a visitor that later obtained the virus after returning home to the land of Mao. In order to secure the future of J-Pan the government decided that a purge must take place. Not to be confused with past atrocities or pending genocides. I am speaking strictly of germs that may have been left behind by the now is sick, but once was fine, tourist. They began at the airport and continued to visit each and every place that the man had visited; with determined and spectacular zeal. It was major news, or so those that were here tell me. Everyday there were headlines revealing where it was that the man had visited. For example, “Sources say he went to Universal Studios Japan, Cleaning Imminent!” or something like that…I wouldn’t know exactly as I was absent.
“So, what else is new?” you may be thinking. Well you have caught me on a good day, one in which I feel like writing about all of the things that I haven’t really informed you of. For example: have I told you about the bikes in this country? Whew, there are a lot. However I will not take you down the path of boring detail about such things. But I will give you a rough outline of such a boring topic. Here it goes: the bicycles here are all like my older sister’s old bike (yes the one that I used to ride and consequently left outside without a lock and am guilty of allowing it to be stolen. Sorry Sarah) so back to the bikes, they are all shaped similar to those littering the beaches of Florida retirement community, this is to say that they all have the lowered middle bar, curved handles, and long, slender fenders. Another standard option is the stylish and oh so attractive basket. They are a little feminine, but for some odd reason they are also a lot of fun. I once read an article in a magazine given to me by a co-worker that described the adventures of a freakin’ idiot that decided to ride his bike everywhere for a month. Of course it was a tale of fitness and fun! Or that was the yarn that the writer wanted to spin. I didn’t buy it. But then I came here. A land in which you have no choice whether or not you want to ride a bike. My often find my subconscious giving me little pep talks that sound similar to this dialogue, “Do you want to go somewhere? Well get your rear on your bike and peddle fatty.”
As one could guess the furniture in this country is quite similar to the people, places, and things: small. Before leaving the states I told many people that I was expecting to break many different things; such as chairs and other random objects. This was mostly as joke, but nonetheless, I thought that it would be inevitable. Up until now I have proven myself wrong and have left much of the furniture weakened, but not in pieces. Yeah for me. But I cannot say the same for bicycle tires; of which I have gone through two. Explanation: the first was on the bike that I inherited upon arrival. It was a fine bike, at least I am sure that it was quite a catch back in the late 70’s when it was in it’s prime. But by the time that I got to it she was creakin’ more than a geriatric jazzer-cizer bending over to put on her leotard. Not to mention the fact that the tires were as worn as my lovely friend and former co-worker’s knees after a weekend of playing “cops and robbers” with his long time friend and man in uniform.
Bottom line: the bike was old. I am dumb. I did not have a tire gauge and inflated the tires way too much so “pop” went the back tire. Not my fault; at least as far as I am concerned. Next week I purchased my own bicycle as I thought that it would make more sense then me paying to get the old piece of poo fixed.
So I picked out the nice baby blue one. It was the cheapest one and I thought that the color would assist in me being able to identify it in public more easily as I often forget where I parked my bike. No I am not always drunk, but there are a lot, and trust me I mean a lot, of bikes in this country.
And then there was the second tire. Okay, so this one may leave me with a little more guilt then the last. I was stupid and tried to jump up on some stairs with my new and smooth blue bike. Whoops. Not a good idea, I admit it. But here’s the kicker: I was given a ride early last Saturday in a truck, with bike in tow, to a place that would fix the ole girl up. When we arrived I noticed that I did not bring my bike key (all bikes in Japan have a really simple lock that is attached directly above the tire of choice, either front or back, that simply slips between the bike frame and in-between the spokes, thus limiting the movement of the tire. Think of what happens when you place a stick between the spokes of a person’s bike: it stops or at least ceases to be able to move. わかりますか？wakarimasuka-do you understand?).
My ride left after we were informed that it would take about 30 minutes to get the bike fixed. I was tired and feeling a little absent minded and said my goodbyes without a second thought. What could possibly be the problem? I was about to have my fairly new bike back in tip top shape in about 20 more minutes. Right? Oh yeah…I forgot the key.
After 30 minutes the bike was ready to go; but I wasn’t. Ho hum. Oh well. So I hoisted the completely working and just repaired bicycle over my shoulder and began my ten-minute walk back to my home.
As stated before I feel a little out of place at times. Especially when in public. Well this time things were a little different. This time people stared for a little longer and wondered a little harder, or so I am convinced. I really do wish that I could have spoken Japanese at this point and time in my journey; because I would have loved to tell each and every one of them, “I’m stealing this bike. You wouldn’t happen to have a saw or something like that would you?” How would they have responded? I think that they would have looked in their trunk for me; they really are so kind and submissive. But I could only imagine that many of the people who crossed my path began to think, “damn. I wish that I could speak English. I’d love to tell that idiot that he’s supposed to ride that thing not carry it. Poor guy. No wonder Bush got re-elected…”
Well I’ll have to be honest; I think that you got off lucky this time. I was going to go into detail about some of the food that I ate this weekend, as it was a little uncommon from the general experience that I have gotten while I’ve been here. But I am almost to three pages…oops, I mean four…and I honestly don’t think that many of you have the time or patience to read this much. But I will tell you that this past weekend I picked at the head of a squid covered in Mayonnaise. During the same treat I also ate an unidentified food-item, which I would like to remain unknown to be honest. You know that piece of the chicken, I think that it is the tale-bone or something like that, that is really rubbery but still semi-soft? You know the one; it’s chewy enough that you will keep it in your mouth for about 20 seconds before you spit it into your napkin and then cut into your piece of chicken at which point you notice that there is a whole chunk of semi-bone/cartilage like substance on your plate. Well I ate a whole bowl of something like that.
There was actually one point this weekend when I really wanted to take detailed notes of the shit that they eat here because you really wouldn’t believe it. If you have ever thought that seaweed, or kelp, was strange then you should try what is referred to as “devils tongue.” Half the time I can’t tell if a food item is animal, mineral, or human waste. Enough is enough. Have a good one and I hope that you have a nice day.
11.12.2004
"How's the shitzu?" "Tastes like crap."
It has been a while my friends. Over this little sabbatical I can only hope that I have not lost both of my readers. Come on guys; don’t give up on me yet…
Well nothing to new to report. Life is fair here in J-Pan. I am currently learning the language and have stayed out of bad bar situations for some time now. Recently I have been thinking about what I could write that I have not discussed before. There’s been weird experiences, food troubles, geography, nature, activities…just about everything. But I haven’t talked about the women. Oh the women. These confusing beasts are even stranger then the semi-domesticated creatures of the fairer sex at home.
I shall explain: you see, the Japanese society is extremely sexist. Now this isn’t your regular little slap on the rump, you look good “toots” sexism; it is institutionalized and heavily social. You know how people in America usually now scoff at the idea that the color pink represents girl and that blue means…boy, that’s right (good job). Well I am pretty sure that there are many individuals my age in Japan that still believe such things. This is only really scratching the surface as well. In one of my conversation classes a student informed the class that they were going to be taking a survey on what people look for in a partner (romantic partner that is…you know, dating material). I then took her survey and made it the topic of the class; I was curious, what do these people look for that may be different then myself? Hmmmmm….Well, I then found out that they seem to look for many of the same qualities that we do; such as sense of humor, communication, etc. Not too different then what you or I may look for in someone to grow old with. But then they spoke up, they being the older women in the class (mid-40’s or younger), and informed all of the younger women that they had better quit thinking about things like that and instead just go for the money. Honestly, they said that the most important thing about love was that you marry someone with wealth. This definitely was not the style of gold-digging that I was used to seeing; they were extremely overt about their aims and honest in their reasoning. Which was that each of their husbands had changed after they got married and that they had to then rely on money for their subsequent happiness. Wow. Now you may think to yourself, “Dan you big ninny, what does this have to do with sexism?” Well my response to you would simply be, “Well what do you think that created and fed the beast that these women now are if not their sexist husbands?” Question with a question…I know, shut up. It’s just sexism. The women here are a lot like the bicycles: they are very useful, many used for a long time leaving the rider happy and fulfilled. Others go through many in one year and do not think twice about it. But the biggest similarity rests in the fact that both are looked at and used simply as necessary utilities. Sad isn’t it? Oh well Japanese men are ugly. Who cares if they only marry the monsters that they have created.
Oh wait, there is more on relationships. Some parts of Asia still use the old school of thought and believe that when one gets married they have to then buy a house that is big enough not only for them and their newly betrothed, but also for the husband’s parents (if he is the oldest in the family) or the wife (if she is the oldest of a family of only daughters). When this occurs, especially with men whose parents move in, the wife is placed at the bottom of the pecking order and is used only as maid to the parents with the mother in-law usually barking out orders and administrating the home front. This may not be a shock to many of you, but did you know that they still really eat dogs in China? Seriously, dogs man. And horses too. I haven’t asked about monkey brains yet…but I got a feeling that I am going to get a big, “hai” on that question. Now that’s shocking.
Bottom line: to those of you who thought that I was going to bring home a Japanese, or just any ole Asian, bride I say to all of you now, “fat chance.” I can’t stand the way that they think, let alone understand what they are saying. Plus I really don’t want to have to live with her parents if her mother is an evil old hag (funny anecdote: do you know why it is that so many Japanese old women wear hats? Because they have horns. Or at least that is what I was told. The punch line was then followed up with the explanation that this is because “they are evil…like devils or snakes”). Ha. Crazy eastern mythology…So, rest assured mom, I’ll stick with women that you can berate in English. Ha.
Ps: they do have Chinese food in Japan, no dog though.
Well nothing to new to report. Life is fair here in J-Pan. I am currently learning the language and have stayed out of bad bar situations for some time now. Recently I have been thinking about what I could write that I have not discussed before. There’s been weird experiences, food troubles, geography, nature, activities…just about everything. But I haven’t talked about the women. Oh the women. These confusing beasts are even stranger then the semi-domesticated creatures of the fairer sex at home.
I shall explain: you see, the Japanese society is extremely sexist. Now this isn’t your regular little slap on the rump, you look good “toots” sexism; it is institutionalized and heavily social. You know how people in America usually now scoff at the idea that the color pink represents girl and that blue means…boy, that’s right (good job). Well I am pretty sure that there are many individuals my age in Japan that still believe such things. This is only really scratching the surface as well. In one of my conversation classes a student informed the class that they were going to be taking a survey on what people look for in a partner (romantic partner that is…you know, dating material). I then took her survey and made it the topic of the class; I was curious, what do these people look for that may be different then myself? Hmmmmm….Well, I then found out that they seem to look for many of the same qualities that we do; such as sense of humor, communication, etc. Not too different then what you or I may look for in someone to grow old with. But then they spoke up, they being the older women in the class (mid-40’s or younger), and informed all of the younger women that they had better quit thinking about things like that and instead just go for the money. Honestly, they said that the most important thing about love was that you marry someone with wealth. This definitely was not the style of gold-digging that I was used to seeing; they were extremely overt about their aims and honest in their reasoning. Which was that each of their husbands had changed after they got married and that they had to then rely on money for their subsequent happiness. Wow. Now you may think to yourself, “Dan you big ninny, what does this have to do with sexism?” Well my response to you would simply be, “Well what do you think that created and fed the beast that these women now are if not their sexist husbands?” Question with a question…I know, shut up. It’s just sexism. The women here are a lot like the bicycles: they are very useful, many used for a long time leaving the rider happy and fulfilled. Others go through many in one year and do not think twice about it. But the biggest similarity rests in the fact that both are looked at and used simply as necessary utilities. Sad isn’t it? Oh well Japanese men are ugly. Who cares if they only marry the monsters that they have created.
Oh wait, there is more on relationships. Some parts of Asia still use the old school of thought and believe that when one gets married they have to then buy a house that is big enough not only for them and their newly betrothed, but also for the husband’s parents (if he is the oldest in the family) or the wife (if she is the oldest of a family of only daughters). When this occurs, especially with men whose parents move in, the wife is placed at the bottom of the pecking order and is used only as maid to the parents with the mother in-law usually barking out orders and administrating the home front. This may not be a shock to many of you, but did you know that they still really eat dogs in China? Seriously, dogs man. And horses too. I haven’t asked about monkey brains yet…but I got a feeling that I am going to get a big, “hai” on that question. Now that’s shocking.
Bottom line: to those of you who thought that I was going to bring home a Japanese, or just any ole Asian, bride I say to all of you now, “fat chance.” I can’t stand the way that they think, let alone understand what they are saying. Plus I really don’t want to have to live with her parents if her mother is an evil old hag (funny anecdote: do you know why it is that so many Japanese old women wear hats? Because they have horns. Or at least that is what I was told. The punch line was then followed up with the explanation that this is because “they are evil…like devils or snakes”). Ha. Crazy eastern mythology…So, rest assured mom, I’ll stick with women that you can berate in English. Ha.
Ps: they do have Chinese food in Japan, no dog though.
11.04.2004
Kind of like Kishwaulkee, but a little higher Altitude
I would like to begin by thanking everyone for caring so greatly about yours truly.
Beauties never thought Possible...
Well, I have seen what I thought was only made for the movies in Japan. The countryside. This week has been pretty kind to me. I didn’t have to work the past few days (as we were having a campus festival, and all of the teachers were given some time off). Therefore I thought that it would be good to get out of town.
Heading out for the second time by myself I didn’t know exactly what it was that I wanted to do or where I was going to go. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t been anywhere yet where the trees were taller than the buildings; so I headed out to the mountain, Mt. Rokko.
After navigating my way through the city and onto the train I was headed out towards the mountain; which was easy, they stick out a bit. I then found a bus and through the few words that I do know I found someone going to the top.
Now the tough part; how do I describe this? I have been in an area that is constantly surrounded by buildings, cars, bikes, businesses, people, and so many other things that provide elements for headaches that to see or experience something different was to experience Japan again for the first time. It was beautiful.
The bus drove up the steep hills cut into the side of the mountain so slowly that I didn’t know whether to gasp for breath because of the height and it’s consequent fear or because of the sight of the area I was slowly escaping. It was amazing.
When I reached the conservation center at the top I immediately began to wander. Eventually I found a path and set out taking pictures, about three rolls within an hour…a little overkill maybe, but I was happy. After walking around in the bright sunlight I began to realize that I this was a first, I hadn’t seen or heard someone for about an hour…weird. It was nice, but it had to end.
Wandering and than turning back around to go home I experienced a little rejuvenation. Japan ain’t so bad.
Kyoto
Still having time off a new day dawned; today it was off to Kyoto. Kyoto was one of the only cities saved from the attacks upon Japan during world war two; therefore it is a little more traditional than the area that I live in now. We were all set to go and see the golden palace, once a playground of the Emperor, it is now a bit of a temple and a bit of a tourist attraction. It was quite an astounding place. Painted all gold and stuff…but there were too many people. But it was cool to see some of the more traditional architecture and ornaments.
Then it was off to the movieland…woo hoo! Okay, so have you ever seen those horrible samurai movies that they sometimes show on late-night tv? You know, the ones that are all dubbed over and have those horrible bad-guys or maybe even monsters? Or have you at least seen “Big Trouble in Little China Town,” starring Kurt Russell? Because if you haven’t then you must go and rent it. Well anyway, I went to one of the places that they keep some of the sets and props from such blockbuster films. Imagine universal studios in the 1980’s, because that’s about what it was. No startling visual effects or amazing feats here…just robotic dragon heads popping out from behind fake hills and mountains while scary water flowed faster.
The highlight had to be when we waited in line for about 20 minutes to enjoy one of the main “attractions.” It was an exciting ride called, “To the Office.” After sitting in a chair made for someone slightly smaller than I the lights went out and the screen came up, it was off to work for me. After skiing down a mountain, taking a boat ride, and then jumping onto a motorcycle (all of which felt the same thanks to the chair) I finally made it to work. How exciting. But then I found out that I worked with the 7 God’s of…something (past actors from this amazing movie house). Oh what fun! It was totally lame…dude.
So, after walking around a little bit more my companions and I began to wonder why it was that we had paid the \2,200 to get into here. Then we remembered the words of the cabbie who asked if we were going to try the haunted house, which cost an extra \500. Would it be as “great” as the last ride? Who knows? We sure didn’t and weren’t sure if we wanted to pay anymore money for some lame stuff. But then again, we were curious. Needless to say it was one of the best and most frightening things I have experienced, outside of the man in the ape mask from Halloween. There were fake, or so I thought, dead bodies everywhere; along with some people in costume hiding and waiting to make me wet my pants. And did you ever see The Ring? Because I am pretty sure that the girl from the video lives in that haunted house. One of the best parts: we are walking along with me leading when we turn a corner and see another figure with extremely long matted hair standing in front of me, I think to myself “she is so alive,” just as someone asks, “is she alive?” and another responds, “no she is fake, it’s okay, really, we are almost done.” Well, he was wrong and he did a good job of losing someone’s confidence that day as the long-haired kimono wearing woman jumped on top of the scared girls in the middle making them collapse to floor crying. Ha. What a blast.
So the cost was made up and things were alright.
We then headed out for a nice dinner and ended up in a Tijuana-Prison-like hell at a place called “Mexican,” there may have been more, but this was the English translation offered on the sign. The food contained far too much egg and not enough beans and the tacos tasted like rump-roast (without the tasty carrots and potatoes). It was interesting to say the least; and then he started singing. His singing was like karaoke as suicide is to murder. Ouch, my ears still hurt. But at least he was taking requests; but he wanted money for them. “Please, here, have my money and make me sick.” It’s not like I was trying to get out of gym class by coming here (you get it, sickness, gym class…).
Well, I’ve talked enough. If I save up my money maybe I will get the pictures developed from the past few days and try to learn how to scan and post them. No promises; If I do get them scanned, and you are interested in some pictures, then please e-mail me. Peace love and happiness.
Beauties never thought Possible...
Well, I have seen what I thought was only made for the movies in Japan. The countryside. This week has been pretty kind to me. I didn’t have to work the past few days (as we were having a campus festival, and all of the teachers were given some time off). Therefore I thought that it would be good to get out of town.
Heading out for the second time by myself I didn’t know exactly what it was that I wanted to do or where I was going to go. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t been anywhere yet where the trees were taller than the buildings; so I headed out to the mountain, Mt. Rokko.
After navigating my way through the city and onto the train I was headed out towards the mountain; which was easy, they stick out a bit. I then found a bus and through the few words that I do know I found someone going to the top.
Now the tough part; how do I describe this? I have been in an area that is constantly surrounded by buildings, cars, bikes, businesses, people, and so many other things that provide elements for headaches that to see or experience something different was to experience Japan again for the first time. It was beautiful.
The bus drove up the steep hills cut into the side of the mountain so slowly that I didn’t know whether to gasp for breath because of the height and it’s consequent fear or because of the sight of the area I was slowly escaping. It was amazing.
When I reached the conservation center at the top I immediately began to wander. Eventually I found a path and set out taking pictures, about three rolls within an hour…a little overkill maybe, but I was happy. After walking around in the bright sunlight I began to realize that I this was a first, I hadn’t seen or heard someone for about an hour…weird. It was nice, but it had to end.
Wandering and than turning back around to go home I experienced a little rejuvenation. Japan ain’t so bad.
Kyoto
Still having time off a new day dawned; today it was off to Kyoto. Kyoto was one of the only cities saved from the attacks upon Japan during world war two; therefore it is a little more traditional than the area that I live in now. We were all set to go and see the golden palace, once a playground of the Emperor, it is now a bit of a temple and a bit of a tourist attraction. It was quite an astounding place. Painted all gold and stuff…but there were too many people. But it was cool to see some of the more traditional architecture and ornaments.
Then it was off to the movieland…woo hoo! Okay, so have you ever seen those horrible samurai movies that they sometimes show on late-night tv? You know, the ones that are all dubbed over and have those horrible bad-guys or maybe even monsters? Or have you at least seen “Big Trouble in Little China Town,” starring Kurt Russell? Because if you haven’t then you must go and rent it. Well anyway, I went to one of the places that they keep some of the sets and props from such blockbuster films. Imagine universal studios in the 1980’s, because that’s about what it was. No startling visual effects or amazing feats here…just robotic dragon heads popping out from behind fake hills and mountains while scary water flowed faster.
The highlight had to be when we waited in line for about 20 minutes to enjoy one of the main “attractions.” It was an exciting ride called, “To the Office.” After sitting in a chair made for someone slightly smaller than I the lights went out and the screen came up, it was off to work for me. After skiing down a mountain, taking a boat ride, and then jumping onto a motorcycle (all of which felt the same thanks to the chair) I finally made it to work. How exciting. But then I found out that I worked with the 7 God’s of…something (past actors from this amazing movie house). Oh what fun! It was totally lame…dude.
So, after walking around a little bit more my companions and I began to wonder why it was that we had paid the \2,200 to get into here. Then we remembered the words of the cabbie who asked if we were going to try the haunted house, which cost an extra \500. Would it be as “great” as the last ride? Who knows? We sure didn’t and weren’t sure if we wanted to pay anymore money for some lame stuff. But then again, we were curious. Needless to say it was one of the best and most frightening things I have experienced, outside of the man in the ape mask from Halloween. There were fake, or so I thought, dead bodies everywhere; along with some people in costume hiding and waiting to make me wet my pants. And did you ever see The Ring? Because I am pretty sure that the girl from the video lives in that haunted house. One of the best parts: we are walking along with me leading when we turn a corner and see another figure with extremely long matted hair standing in front of me, I think to myself “she is so alive,” just as someone asks, “is she alive?” and another responds, “no she is fake, it’s okay, really, we are almost done.” Well, he was wrong and he did a good job of losing someone’s confidence that day as the long-haired kimono wearing woman jumped on top of the scared girls in the middle making them collapse to floor crying. Ha. What a blast.
So the cost was made up and things were alright.
We then headed out for a nice dinner and ended up in a Tijuana-Prison-like hell at a place called “Mexican,” there may have been more, but this was the English translation offered on the sign. The food contained far too much egg and not enough beans and the tacos tasted like rump-roast (without the tasty carrots and potatoes). It was interesting to say the least; and then he started singing. His singing was like karaoke as suicide is to murder. Ouch, my ears still hurt. But at least he was taking requests; but he wanted money for them. “Please, here, have my money and make me sick.” It’s not like I was trying to get out of gym class by coming here (you get it, sickness, gym class…).
Well, I’ve talked enough. If I save up my money maybe I will get the pictures developed from the past few days and try to learn how to scan and post them. No promises; If I do get them scanned, and you are interested in some pictures, then please e-mail me. Peace love and happiness.
All I have to say about that...
The cover of the novel Timequake reads, “At 2:27 p.m. on February 13th of the year 2001, the Universe suffered a crisis in self-confidence. Should it go on expanding indefinitely? What was the point.” I think that Mr. Vonnegut missed the time reference by a bit, it was supposed to read, “At 10:57 a.m. on November 3rd of the year 2004, the Universe (especially the planet Earth) suffered a crisis in self-confidence. Should it go on expanding indefinitely? Or will Bush simply make it all implode? What’s the point of caring anymore.”
I am not happy. I am not entirely sad. I am apathetic. I am America. Or at least the America that I think I know, living 6,000 miles away. How could this have happened? What was it that just didn’t settle the stomachs of the United States within Kerry’s platforms? Economics? No, I don’t think that people felt too confident with Bush’s economics either (insightful note, this quote was taken off of a website this morning: “Cheers erupted on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange as Kerry conceded and U.S. stocks rallied. The Standard & Poor's 500 Index climbed 1.4 percent, with all 24 of its industry groups advancing. U.S. Treasury notes fell; Bush's tax cuts have contributed to a record budget deficit that will force the government to increase borrowing, investors said.” I’m in debt and I know that it’s bad; take it from me, U.S. Government, you may want it now, but you just wait for the bill to come in the mail.)
Was it terrorism and the war? I thought that most agreed that Kerry had served well and that he wasn’t one who flip-flopped his positions just for a solid career foundation. What was it then?
What’s that, you want my opinion. Well, I have to agree with the staff of CNNJ (international version of CNN) that it was morals that cost Kerry is seat in the big house. It was the simple fact that America rallied behind the new crusader. Why wouldn’t we? He is the one that is against the evil Muslims in the Middle East, the beacon of light shining against social disasters like abortion and homosexuality. Hasn’t he? How is it that such things are even involved within the realm of politics? Why do such topics as a constitutional amendment against same-sex marriage have to appear on 11 state ballots? States that, by the way, are known to be extremely far-right and have traditionally voted republican? The most conservative state being Oregon and the rest being in the south; who would have thought that states like Kentucky and Georgia would have been against such things? But whatever you do, don’t ask Massachusetts or California. Why are these issues even on the ballot? Why waste the time, effort, money, and various other amenities to even ask, let alone count, such an arbitrary question within American life.
Government, to me, was established to assist in the development of society, not control it. I may have to consult my mom, but I am pretty sure that the lines of the preamble to our constitution read, “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” Break it down: Justice, domestic Tranquility, defense, general welfare, and securing a solid future. Where on God’s green earth does same-sex marriage or stem cell research fit into this equation? If you want to focus on moral issues focus on the poor, homeless, and abused within this country. Are they to suffer in the background while easily persecuted social/religious topics are flaunted in the front?
President Bush loves Jesus. As do I. But where and when was it that God told Mr. Bush that he needed to assume the highest level of power within our country, possibly the world, and continually exploit it and the people that looked up to him? He has made a sham of democracy through his use of non-issues and lies. The last few weeks I continually saw characters speak about the idea of fear; this fear was toward terrorists, not god. People today are ready to support a man that they think adheres to a higher calling, but they are afraid to look for a man that may be open to a higher power. President Bush’s actions have been anything but Christian. He has persecuted, he has lied, he has acted in vain, and he has not reached out to those in need. He, to me, is reminiscent of the Vikings of old; they raped, pillaged, and plundered for hundreds of years. But look at them now. People love ‘em; even named a sports team after them. I’m sure that in four, eight, ten, or maybe even a hundred years some people will still like George Bush Jr.; but for now, I think that I would rather contemplate whether or not I should just keep on going. What’s the point? While writing a pop-up advertisement asked if I wanted to purchase flood insurance. Maybe I should. Something has to come along soon to clean up this mess. Let me aboard Noah; I’m just one of the animals occupying this space too.
I am not happy. I am not entirely sad. I am apathetic. I am America. Or at least the America that I think I know, living 6,000 miles away. How could this have happened? What was it that just didn’t settle the stomachs of the United States within Kerry’s platforms? Economics? No, I don’t think that people felt too confident with Bush’s economics either (insightful note, this quote was taken off of a website this morning: “Cheers erupted on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange as Kerry conceded and U.S. stocks rallied. The Standard & Poor's 500 Index climbed 1.4 percent, with all 24 of its industry groups advancing. U.S. Treasury notes fell; Bush's tax cuts have contributed to a record budget deficit that will force the government to increase borrowing, investors said.” I’m in debt and I know that it’s bad; take it from me, U.S. Government, you may want it now, but you just wait for the bill to come in the mail.)
Was it terrorism and the war? I thought that most agreed that Kerry had served well and that he wasn’t one who flip-flopped his positions just for a solid career foundation. What was it then?
What’s that, you want my opinion. Well, I have to agree with the staff of CNNJ (international version of CNN) that it was morals that cost Kerry is seat in the big house. It was the simple fact that America rallied behind the new crusader. Why wouldn’t we? He is the one that is against the evil Muslims in the Middle East, the beacon of light shining against social disasters like abortion and homosexuality. Hasn’t he? How is it that such things are even involved within the realm of politics? Why do such topics as a constitutional amendment against same-sex marriage have to appear on 11 state ballots? States that, by the way, are known to be extremely far-right and have traditionally voted republican? The most conservative state being Oregon and the rest being in the south; who would have thought that states like Kentucky and Georgia would have been against such things? But whatever you do, don’t ask Massachusetts or California. Why are these issues even on the ballot? Why waste the time, effort, money, and various other amenities to even ask, let alone count, such an arbitrary question within American life.
Government, to me, was established to assist in the development of society, not control it. I may have to consult my mom, but I am pretty sure that the lines of the preamble to our constitution read, “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” Break it down: Justice, domestic Tranquility, defense, general welfare, and securing a solid future. Where on God’s green earth does same-sex marriage or stem cell research fit into this equation? If you want to focus on moral issues focus on the poor, homeless, and abused within this country. Are they to suffer in the background while easily persecuted social/religious topics are flaunted in the front?
President Bush loves Jesus. As do I. But where and when was it that God told Mr. Bush that he needed to assume the highest level of power within our country, possibly the world, and continually exploit it and the people that looked up to him? He has made a sham of democracy through his use of non-issues and lies. The last few weeks I continually saw characters speak about the idea of fear; this fear was toward terrorists, not god. People today are ready to support a man that they think adheres to a higher calling, but they are afraid to look for a man that may be open to a higher power. President Bush’s actions have been anything but Christian. He has persecuted, he has lied, he has acted in vain, and he has not reached out to those in need. He, to me, is reminiscent of the Vikings of old; they raped, pillaged, and plundered for hundreds of years. But look at them now. People love ‘em; even named a sports team after them. I’m sure that in four, eight, ten, or maybe even a hundred years some people will still like George Bush Jr.; but for now, I think that I would rather contemplate whether or not I should just keep on going. What’s the point? While writing a pop-up advertisement asked if I wanted to purchase flood insurance. Maybe I should. Something has to come along soon to clean up this mess. Let me aboard Noah; I’m just one of the animals occupying this space too.
11.02.2004
Happy Halloweend Kansai, or There but for the grace of God go I.
Have you ever had one of those life-altering experiences that really makes you sit back and think about the course of life? For some it may be drug induced, or perhaps it came as a near death experience. Well for me it was Halloween.
Before the weekend was here I knew that I was going to go out, and I knew that it was going to be quite the experience. The last train runs at about 12:30, which is no time to return from a night on the town. But then again the first train doesn’t come until about 5:30 or so in the morning. What would you do? It was going to be a long one.
The evening started at about 4pm when I first woke up (the night before was my first Karaoke experience…whoa, whole new world, and I’m not talking about the wonderful song from Disney’s Aladdin…maybe another time I will discuss this wonder, but for now, it’s Halloween and epiphany time).
Okay, where was I; Halloween, just got up at 4pm, and I needed a costume. Now since I am a large human being I knew that I could not go the most popular Japanese route which was to pick up a nicely packaged costume at some gijin store and throw it on. So I had to use a little thought. So, with very little thought I decided that I would obviously take the easy way out and just tie a couple of sheets around myself and viola, presto, change-o, TOGA! Woo-Hoo; instant linen party. So I was a Greek god for Halloween, or if you are an American, I was an American God, John Belushi.
Then it was out we went. Andres and I were to meet a few of our friends that work here at Eichi as well as a few of Andres’s former students. Upon meeting them at the Osaka station I thought that we would slowly fall into our costumes with the help of a few drinks; but no. Diasuke, Andres’s buddy, thought that we should just change right there at the station and walk around all of Osaka dressed as idiots. * Side note: I get stared at all of the time for looking out of place (I have even been called impure and pointed at because I was not Japanese). Why then would I decide that maybe it would be all right if I dressed like an idiot and walked around the second largest metropolitan area in Japan, fourth in the world, and said to the entire Japanese people, “not only did I vote for Bush last election but I am now uprooting the foundations of your culture with holidays like this?”
Because it was Halloween of course.
In order to best celebrate the American tradition we engaged in a wonderful traditional American meal at this quaint little restaurant called, “Outback steakhouse.” Heard of it? This is a wonderful place because it truly torments most native people. Why? Because it has Australian crap all over the walls, including a huge crocodile, but it’s an American Steakhouse. Oh the confusion! But we did get a free drink…yum yum.
Okay, quick time.
Eat.
Drink.
Ate.
Drunk.
Okay, now we are at a disco and it is time to take in the other idiots in costume. We had pimps, and drag-queens, and cowboys, oh my! There were even people in paisley bodysuits (I don’t know what to say or think about this style of costume. It was like the blue man suit, but in any color/design that you could imagine). But the best costume had to go to the person that looked the best.
They walked into the nightclub like they were walking into a…I don’t know. This person was very confused. They came dressed in tights, underwear (woman’s underoos), with a bra, and a monkey mask. I might add that the individual must have worked out because it’s female proportions were nicely accented. You know, well-defined abs, biceps, and shapely legs…oh wait, those are no female proportions’, it’s a man. Did I mention that Japanese men do not seem to have very much body hair? Or that they have very effeminate characteristics? Because they do. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
Quick time again.
Drink.
Sit.
Drunk.
Dancing.
The Japanese are not as bad at dancing as I thought they would have been. They really like the break dancing and, “You’ve Been Served (Right Title?)” seems very big here.
Well, it is time to be honest. I don’t remember too much past this point. I kind of fell off the planet. The few things that I do remember (the colored pencils for you to make your own sketch if you will):
l Being guided around by a kind friend of Diasuke who was dressed like a Priest
l Paying some street musicians \1,000 to play a song that I knew. They ended up with Norwegian Wood by the beatles.
l Getting people to partake in the vodka that I had been carrying around with me in my Nalgene bottles. Selling point: “Look, it’s okay, I can drink it…”
l Breaking open a bottle of Bailey’s on the curb because the darn thing wouldn’t open on it’s own accord. Twist tops can be so stubborn.
l Hitting the street a few times with my head…much like a bouncy ball.
I think that’s enough color for you to draw to your hearts content.
I awoke cold and alone (which is good) in my room at about 6pm the next night. I then spent the rest of the day, what little was left, contemplating my own existence (only natural I think). And I have offered up my penance, and I know I am forgiven. I hurt no one but myself. So, do not be worried, but instead do what I couldn’t do. Laugh your ass off. I would join you, but I think that I fell on a bicycle rack and bruised my rear, and it hurts when I chuckle. Te he…ow.
Happy Halloween.
Before the weekend was here I knew that I was going to go out, and I knew that it was going to be quite the experience. The last train runs at about 12:30, which is no time to return from a night on the town. But then again the first train doesn’t come until about 5:30 or so in the morning. What would you do? It was going to be a long one.
The evening started at about 4pm when I first woke up (the night before was my first Karaoke experience…whoa, whole new world, and I’m not talking about the wonderful song from Disney’s Aladdin…maybe another time I will discuss this wonder, but for now, it’s Halloween and epiphany time).
Okay, where was I; Halloween, just got up at 4pm, and I needed a costume. Now since I am a large human being I knew that I could not go the most popular Japanese route which was to pick up a nicely packaged costume at some gijin store and throw it on. So I had to use a little thought. So, with very little thought I decided that I would obviously take the easy way out and just tie a couple of sheets around myself and viola, presto, change-o, TOGA! Woo-Hoo; instant linen party. So I was a Greek god for Halloween, or if you are an American, I was an American God, John Belushi.
Then it was out we went. Andres and I were to meet a few of our friends that work here at Eichi as well as a few of Andres’s former students. Upon meeting them at the Osaka station I thought that we would slowly fall into our costumes with the help of a few drinks; but no. Diasuke, Andres’s buddy, thought that we should just change right there at the station and walk around all of Osaka dressed as idiots. * Side note: I get stared at all of the time for looking out of place (I have even been called impure and pointed at because I was not Japanese). Why then would I decide that maybe it would be all right if I dressed like an idiot and walked around the second largest metropolitan area in Japan, fourth in the world, and said to the entire Japanese people, “not only did I vote for Bush last election but I am now uprooting the foundations of your culture with holidays like this?”
Because it was Halloween of course.
In order to best celebrate the American tradition we engaged in a wonderful traditional American meal at this quaint little restaurant called, “Outback steakhouse.” Heard of it? This is a wonderful place because it truly torments most native people. Why? Because it has Australian crap all over the walls, including a huge crocodile, but it’s an American Steakhouse. Oh the confusion! But we did get a free drink…yum yum.
Okay, quick time.
Eat.
Drink.
Ate.
Drunk.
Okay, now we are at a disco and it is time to take in the other idiots in costume. We had pimps, and drag-queens, and cowboys, oh my! There were even people in paisley bodysuits (I don’t know what to say or think about this style of costume. It was like the blue man suit, but in any color/design that you could imagine). But the best costume had to go to the person that looked the best.
They walked into the nightclub like they were walking into a…I don’t know. This person was very confused. They came dressed in tights, underwear (woman’s underoos), with a bra, and a monkey mask. I might add that the individual must have worked out because it’s female proportions were nicely accented. You know, well-defined abs, biceps, and shapely legs…oh wait, those are no female proportions’, it’s a man. Did I mention that Japanese men do not seem to have very much body hair? Or that they have very effeminate characteristics? Because they do. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
Quick time again.
Drink.
Sit.
Drunk.
Dancing.
The Japanese are not as bad at dancing as I thought they would have been. They really like the break dancing and, “You’ve Been Served (Right Title?)” seems very big here.
Well, it is time to be honest. I don’t remember too much past this point. I kind of fell off the planet. The few things that I do remember (the colored pencils for you to make your own sketch if you will):
l Being guided around by a kind friend of Diasuke who was dressed like a Priest
l Paying some street musicians \1,000 to play a song that I knew. They ended up with Norwegian Wood by the beatles.
l Getting people to partake in the vodka that I had been carrying around with me in my Nalgene bottles. Selling point: “Look, it’s okay, I can drink it…”
l Breaking open a bottle of Bailey’s on the curb because the darn thing wouldn’t open on it’s own accord. Twist tops can be so stubborn.
l Hitting the street a few times with my head…much like a bouncy ball.
I think that’s enough color for you to draw to your hearts content.
I awoke cold and alone (which is good) in my room at about 6pm the next night. I then spent the rest of the day, what little was left, contemplating my own existence (only natural I think). And I have offered up my penance, and I know I am forgiven. I hurt no one but myself. So, do not be worried, but instead do what I couldn’t do. Laugh your ass off. I would join you, but I think that I fell on a bicycle rack and bruised my rear, and it hurts when I chuckle. Te he…ow.
Happy Halloween.
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