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.
3.22.2005
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...
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