Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thankful for the Basterds
Hey, it's Thanksgiving! Oh hey, I'm in Japan, so Thanksgiving doesn't mean dick! Indeed, this will be my first Thanksgiving in four years without any familial contact. Last year I was in New York on this holiday and the year before that my parents and sister were in town for my wedding. Frankly, even four years ago I was at Kansai Gaidai surrounded by similarly homesick Americans. I guess I can take some comfort in that I'm in the process of building my own family now, so someday in the future we can have our own Thanksgiving if we feel like it.
I keep thinking about Inglorious Basterds and how terrific it was. The more I revisit it in my mind, the more things I find to love about it. Conversely, I find the elements that bugged me about the movie becoming less significant. This is the opposite of how my thought process usually works. Typically, when I reflect on a film, video game or whatever, I latch onto the flaws and nitpick them while telling myself "I can only do this because the rest of it was so good." With Inglorious Basterds I'm actually downplaying elements that irritated me when I first watched it.
For example, I was not a fan of Eli Roth as Donny, "the Bear Jew." I hold no personal animosity towards the man (I liked Cabin Fever and found Hostel more interesting than people give it credit for) but his portrayal of the supposedly-intimidating bat-wielding Nazi killer did not work for me. There's an incredible set-up for the character where high-ranking Nazis (including Adolf Hitler!) discuss how horrible he is and how he might be a "golem" (boy do I regret not noting how they translated that word into Japanese), plus there's that long shot of the tunnel where you cannot see him but you hear the sound of his bat coming from the dark. But when he emerges, he's just a (somewhat) hairy guy in an undershirt. Not particularly bear-like, in my opinion.
However, as I think about the film again and again, I realize that the entire Basterds unit was a rather unassuming bunch of guys. They're not particularly bad-ass, they just kill Nazis in a purposely brutal fashion so that their enemies will spread rumors about their deeds. They're not The Dirty Dozen, they're just regular soldiers with a colorful modus operandi and Donny is perfect when viewed in that context. He's a loudmouth, a braggart; he carries a big stick but speaks loudly anyway. When he finds himself in a tight spot, such as sitting in a cinema full of Nazi brass, he looks genuinely terrified because he's in over his head.
(SPOILER ALERT)
...
...
In the end, their plan only succeeds due to the unexpected actions of others, namely Landa and Shosanna. Were it not for their "help," so to speak, Donny and the rest of the Basterds would have been killed, easily.
(end spoilers)
Even better than reconsidering what I didn't like about Inglorious Basterds is discovering new things that I did like. It occurred to me today that the movie made a direct appeal to me on a linguistic level. I have always had a strong sense of curiosity when it comes to foreign languages. The whole reason I live in Japan now is because of my interest in Japanese, and even though I'll probably never "master" it (if such a thing is even possible) I'm always on the lookout for tidbits of other languages.
One of the highlights of the JET Mid-Year Seminar is the free language class we get to remind us of what it's like to have a stranger speak to us using words we do not understand. After all, that's exactly what we do for a living. We never get too deep, as it's only one session, but I find it fascinating even if my retention level is pretty poor. Twice now I've gotten a taste of Cantonese from fellow JET Helen and the most I can remember is 1, 2, and 3.
Watching Inglorious Basterds reminded me of how exciting a multi-lingual environment can be. Nearly every character in the film speaks two languages with the glaring exception of the Basterds themselves. This is a group charged with infiltrating Nazi-occupied territory and the only members of the team who speak German were born in Europe. It reminds me of my trips abroad in high school when I met children my own age who spoke English wonderfully in addition to their native tongue while they were studying a third language in school. Meanwhile I was barely navigating basic conversations in French and my German was little more than a collection of nouns that sounded funny (e.g. eierstokke).
I know it's unfair to compare a multi-cultural continent like Europe with an archipelago nation that has serious xenophobia issues, but ever since I saw Inglorious Basterds Japan's view of foreign languages suddenly feels more imprisoning than ever. My day job consists of trying to expose sheltered rural children to the idea that there is an entire world full of people out there who do not speak Japanese. More often than not, I am met with resistance against the very notion that someone could speak more than one language. Everything around here is black and white in that respects.
I am told time and time again how "difficult" English is, as if that explains their national hostility towards it. Twenty years ago I spent months studying Hebrew against my will for my Bar Mitzvah. It wasn't easy and I complained a lot but I still did it. Compared to that, asking these kids to learn a handful of vocabulary words or study the alphabet does not strike me as unreasonable, yet their teachers cannot wait to make excuses for their lack of cooperation.
When you get right down to it, it's hardly the children's fault that they struggle with English. The entirety of Japanese society goes out of its way to shelter itself from foreign language. Advertisements are more likely to include a Japanese "search term" than an actual URL, lest a customer have trouble remembering a few letter of the alphabet. When foreigners appear on television outside of the NHK nightly news, they are typically subtitled and dubbed into Japanese. As if that double translation isn't enough to mask their bizarre manner of speaking, their words will be carefully rewritten to mimic rigid Japanese gender-based speech patterns.
Even while watching Inglorious Basterds in the theater I was feeling the Japanese pressure via the relentless subtitles. Absolutely every line in the film is subtitled, even ones that did not carry English subtitles, even one-word replies and people's names. Even Hugo's knife, which had an engraved message that flashed across screen for half a second while he sharpened it (upside-down, if I'm not mistaken), was subtitled in Japanese. Not a single moment in the film is left up to the audience to bear in an unfamiliar language. Hell, even when the year is written at the bottom of the screen, there's a Japanese subtitle just to make it clear that this is a year as opposed to a random declaration of a four-digit number (which they can totally read, by the way).
I guess I'll never understand why they are so anxious about these things, why nothing can be left untranslated or unexplained. Believe me, I wince when I see how the United States handles foreign language and foreign concepts from time to time (what I wouldn't give to see subtitled films in movie theaters instead of waiting for DVD), but at least we trust our lowest-common-denominators to understand that "si" and "non" mean "yes" and "no." Relax, Japan! A few funny-sounding words won't kill you, capice?
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I keep thinking about Inglorious Basterds and how terrific it was. The more I revisit it in my mind, the more things I find to love about it. Conversely, I find the elements that bugged me about the movie becoming less significant. This is the opposite of how my thought process usually works. Typically, when I reflect on a film, video game or whatever, I latch onto the flaws and nitpick them while telling myself "I can only do this because the rest of it was so good." With Inglorious Basterds I'm actually downplaying elements that irritated me when I first watched it.
For example, I was not a fan of Eli Roth as Donny, "the Bear Jew." I hold no personal animosity towards the man (I liked Cabin Fever and found Hostel more interesting than people give it credit for) but his portrayal of the supposedly-intimidating bat-wielding Nazi killer did not work for me. There's an incredible set-up for the character where high-ranking Nazis (including Adolf Hitler!) discuss how horrible he is and how he might be a "golem" (boy do I regret not noting how they translated that word into Japanese), plus there's that long shot of the tunnel where you cannot see him but you hear the sound of his bat coming from the dark. But when he emerges, he's just a (somewhat) hairy guy in an undershirt. Not particularly bear-like, in my opinion.
However, as I think about the film again and again, I realize that the entire Basterds unit was a rather unassuming bunch of guys. They're not particularly bad-ass, they just kill Nazis in a purposely brutal fashion so that their enemies will spread rumors about their deeds. They're not The Dirty Dozen, they're just regular soldiers with a colorful modus operandi and Donny is perfect when viewed in that context. He's a loudmouth, a braggart; he carries a big stick but speaks loudly anyway. When he finds himself in a tight spot, such as sitting in a cinema full of Nazi brass, he looks genuinely terrified because he's in over his head.
(SPOILER ALERT)
...
...
In the end, their plan only succeeds due to the unexpected actions of others, namely Landa and Shosanna. Were it not for their "help," so to speak, Donny and the rest of the Basterds would have been killed, easily.
(end spoilers)
Even better than reconsidering what I didn't like about Inglorious Basterds is discovering new things that I did like. It occurred to me today that the movie made a direct appeal to me on a linguistic level. I have always had a strong sense of curiosity when it comes to foreign languages. The whole reason I live in Japan now is because of my interest in Japanese, and even though I'll probably never "master" it (if such a thing is even possible) I'm always on the lookout for tidbits of other languages.
One of the highlights of the JET Mid-Year Seminar is the free language class we get to remind us of what it's like to have a stranger speak to us using words we do not understand. After all, that's exactly what we do for a living. We never get too deep, as it's only one session, but I find it fascinating even if my retention level is pretty poor. Twice now I've gotten a taste of Cantonese from fellow JET Helen and the most I can remember is 1, 2, and 3.
Watching Inglorious Basterds reminded me of how exciting a multi-lingual environment can be. Nearly every character in the film speaks two languages with the glaring exception of the Basterds themselves. This is a group charged with infiltrating Nazi-occupied territory and the only members of the team who speak German were born in Europe. It reminds me of my trips abroad in high school when I met children my own age who spoke English wonderfully in addition to their native tongue while they were studying a third language in school. Meanwhile I was barely navigating basic conversations in French and my German was little more than a collection of nouns that sounded funny (e.g. eierstokke).
I know it's unfair to compare a multi-cultural continent like Europe with an archipelago nation that has serious xenophobia issues, but ever since I saw Inglorious Basterds Japan's view of foreign languages suddenly feels more imprisoning than ever. My day job consists of trying to expose sheltered rural children to the idea that there is an entire world full of people out there who do not speak Japanese. More often than not, I am met with resistance against the very notion that someone could speak more than one language. Everything around here is black and white in that respects.
I am told time and time again how "difficult" English is, as if that explains their national hostility towards it. Twenty years ago I spent months studying Hebrew against my will for my Bar Mitzvah. It wasn't easy and I complained a lot but I still did it. Compared to that, asking these kids to learn a handful of vocabulary words or study the alphabet does not strike me as unreasonable, yet their teachers cannot wait to make excuses for their lack of cooperation.
When you get right down to it, it's hardly the children's fault that they struggle with English. The entirety of Japanese society goes out of its way to shelter itself from foreign language. Advertisements are more likely to include a Japanese "search term" than an actual URL, lest a customer have trouble remembering a few letter of the alphabet. When foreigners appear on television outside of the NHK nightly news, they are typically subtitled and dubbed into Japanese. As if that double translation isn't enough to mask their bizarre manner of speaking, their words will be carefully rewritten to mimic rigid Japanese gender-based speech patterns.
Even while watching Inglorious Basterds in the theater I was feeling the Japanese pressure via the relentless subtitles. Absolutely every line in the film is subtitled, even ones that did not carry English subtitles, even one-word replies and people's names. Even Hugo's knife, which had an engraved message that flashed across screen for half a second while he sharpened it (upside-down, if I'm not mistaken), was subtitled in Japanese. Not a single moment in the film is left up to the audience to bear in an unfamiliar language. Hell, even when the year is written at the bottom of the screen, there's a Japanese subtitle just to make it clear that this is a year as opposed to a random declaration of a four-digit number (which they can totally read, by the way).
I guess I'll never understand why they are so anxious about these things, why nothing can be left untranslated or unexplained. Believe me, I wince when I see how the United States handles foreign language and foreign concepts from time to time (what I wouldn't give to see subtitled films in movie theaters instead of waiting for DVD), but at least we trust our lowest-common-denominators to understand that "si" and "non" mean "yes" and "no." Relax, Japan! A few funny-sounding words won't kill you, capice?
Labels: frustration, Inglorious Basterds, Japan, JET, movies, teaching, Thanksgiving
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, November 02, 2009
Mister November
I so wish I was watching baseball right now. On the other side of the planet, Game Four of the World Series is taking place but as I write this, I'm stuck sitting in the smallest school in Osaka. I've never wanted a portable television more than I do right now.
Sure, there's the internet, and I have used that to check in with the game from time to time. Last I checked the score was tied at 4 in the eighth. Not bad news but not great news either. I've only got one more chance to see a game live this week and that will be Game 5 on Tuesday (Japan time). If the Yankees win today*, I could potentially see them clinch it tomorrow. Otherwise, no matter who wins it I'll be missing out as Games 6 and 7 will take place before the weekend starts. Sigh.
Beyond the Series itself, one bit of news leaped off the screen and jabbed me in the eye: Derek Jeter won an award. Specifically, the Hank Aaron Award which "recognizes the most outstanding offensive performer in each League." Apparently fans have a say in choosing the recipient, so I guess that's bound to screw up the system, but even Yankee fans should be scratching their heads at this news, perhaps even hanging their heads in embarrassment.
Take a look at that announcement again. There's a brief synopsis of the winners' achievements this year. For Albert Pujols (the NL winner) they note his league-leading on-base percentage, slugging percentage, and home run total. That's good! For Jeter, the strongest thing they can offer is passing Lou Gehrig in career hits. That's not bad but it's completely irrelevant.
Jeter led the league in absolutely nothing this year, other than playing games at shortstop for the New York Yankees which isn't really an offensive category. He had a lot of hits and a decent batting average, but his home runs and RBI totals were remarkably low. Indeed, looking at this list of past Hank Aaron Award winners, his low numbers are second only to...Derek Jeter in 2006.
As professional comedy writer/angry sports fan Ken Tremendous said this morning, Jeter is perhaps the fifth-best hitter on his own team to say nothing of the entire American League. Without even looking it up I'm going to guess that Joe Mauer of the Twins had an outstanding year at the plate (ok, I later looked it up) but since he suffers the dual handicap of (A) playing in Minnesota and (B) not being named Derek Jeter, I guess none of the fans that voted had ever heard of him.
I'm not trying to knock on Jeter as a player; I am a fan of the Yankees and of him personally. When he does good things, I get a giddy feeling that has no rational explanation. There's just something fun about watching him succeed despite having years of success under his belt. It's like rooting for an underdog who is actually comfortably sitting on top of the world.
But why the hell do baseball writers and fans insist on handing him trophy after trophy? I know awards are subjective and sometimes they are not earned but simply received because people feel like it was "his time" or some nonsense. It's like when Martin Scorsese won his first Best Director Oscar for The Departed when he should have won it at least twice before for far better films.
This is Derek Fucking Jeter we're talking about. He's fantastically wealthy and handsome and he plays on the most popular team in the world. He's rolling in acclaim and probably has entire closets full of first-place ribbons and the like. Can't we just stop fawning over him and actually award players who deserve such accolades? Can't we give Joe Mauer a headline in November instead of a guy who's already in the midst of winning a World Series for the fifth fucking time?
*Note: The Yankees did win before I got home and uploaded this post onto the internet, but that still doesn't explain why Derek Jeter won another award. Boo...but yay!
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Sure, there's the internet, and I have used that to check in with the game from time to time. Last I checked the score was tied at 4 in the eighth. Not bad news but not great news either. I've only got one more chance to see a game live this week and that will be Game 5 on Tuesday (Japan time). If the Yankees win today*, I could potentially see them clinch it tomorrow. Otherwise, no matter who wins it I'll be missing out as Games 6 and 7 will take place before the weekend starts. Sigh.
Beyond the Series itself, one bit of news leaped off the screen and jabbed me in the eye: Derek Jeter won an award. Specifically, the Hank Aaron Award which "recognizes the most outstanding offensive performer in each League." Apparently fans have a say in choosing the recipient, so I guess that's bound to screw up the system, but even Yankee fans should be scratching their heads at this news, perhaps even hanging their heads in embarrassment.
Take a look at that announcement again. There's a brief synopsis of the winners' achievements this year. For Albert Pujols (the NL winner) they note his league-leading on-base percentage, slugging percentage, and home run total. That's good! For Jeter, the strongest thing they can offer is passing Lou Gehrig in career hits. That's not bad but it's completely irrelevant.
Jeter led the league in absolutely nothing this year, other than playing games at shortstop for the New York Yankees which isn't really an offensive category. He had a lot of hits and a decent batting average, but his home runs and RBI totals were remarkably low. Indeed, looking at this list of past Hank Aaron Award winners, his low numbers are second only to...Derek Jeter in 2006.
As professional comedy writer/angry sports fan Ken Tremendous said this morning, Jeter is perhaps the fifth-best hitter on his own team to say nothing of the entire American League. Without even looking it up I'm going to guess that Joe Mauer of the Twins had an outstanding year at the plate (ok, I later looked it up) but since he suffers the dual handicap of (A) playing in Minnesota and (B) not being named Derek Jeter, I guess none of the fans that voted had ever heard of him.
I'm not trying to knock on Jeter as a player; I am a fan of the Yankees and of him personally. When he does good things, I get a giddy feeling that has no rational explanation. There's just something fun about watching him succeed despite having years of success under his belt. It's like rooting for an underdog who is actually comfortably sitting on top of the world.
But why the hell do baseball writers and fans insist on handing him trophy after trophy? I know awards are subjective and sometimes they are not earned but simply received because people feel like it was "his time" or some nonsense. It's like when Martin Scorsese won his first Best Director Oscar for The Departed when he should have won it at least twice before for far better films.
This is Derek Fucking Jeter we're talking about. He's fantastically wealthy and handsome and he plays on the most popular team in the world. He's rolling in acclaim and probably has entire closets full of first-place ribbons and the like. Can't we just stop fawning over him and actually award players who deserve such accolades? Can't we give Joe Mauer a headline in November instead of a guy who's already in the midst of winning a World Series for the fifth fucking time?
*Note: The Yankees did win before I got home and uploaded this post onto the internet, but that still doesn't explain why Derek Jeter won another award. Boo...but yay!
Labels: baseball, frustration, predicting the future, Yankees
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Bye Bye August
I am so glad this month is over. I don't normally point fingers at or curse arbitrary time designations but this August was a particularly nasty one. I won't be sorry to see it end.
I say this because the arrival of my mystery illness coincided almost perfectly with the start of this month and now that it's over, I am feeling much better. This should have been a light month for me, a period where I could write or play games or do whatever I wanted because I wasn't needed much at work. Instead, I spent a lot of my time feeling like crap, wrote very little and didn't do much of anything.
I certainly didn't have the energy to properly welcome my visiting family or escort the new JET in my area around. Everyone says they don't blame me, but I blame me because my absence no doubt put more pressure on everyone around me who doesn't speak Japanese. So let me say it one more time for all to hear: I'm sorry I wasn't stronger.
But let's move on, shall we? The weather and my condition have improved dramatically over this final week of August. I have to assume those facts are related, because nothing I received from any of the doctors I visited could have "cured" me. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, perhaps it was a passing bug or virus, or perhaps it was just something I ate. It's over now and I'm glad to be rid of it.
Classes have resumed at school and I'm picking up where I left off as best I can. Some students listen, some students don't. The same goes for the teachers I have to work with: some listen, some don't. Most of the schools have done a pretty good job of being prepared to discuss and start classes on the very first day I am available to teach (with this morning being a notable but ultimately predictable exception).
The best news out of all of this is that Go remained happy and healthy throughout the month, so whatever the hell happened to me it didn't have any visible effect on him. I leave you with this photo of him as evidence that my son is, objectively speaking, the most adorable baby of all time.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I say this because the arrival of my mystery illness coincided almost perfectly with the start of this month and now that it's over, I am feeling much better. This should have been a light month for me, a period where I could write or play games or do whatever I wanted because I wasn't needed much at work. Instead, I spent a lot of my time feeling like crap, wrote very little and didn't do much of anything.
I certainly didn't have the energy to properly welcome my visiting family or escort the new JET in my area around. Everyone says they don't blame me, but I blame me because my absence no doubt put more pressure on everyone around me who doesn't speak Japanese. So let me say it one more time for all to hear: I'm sorry I wasn't stronger.
But let's move on, shall we? The weather and my condition have improved dramatically over this final week of August. I have to assume those facts are related, because nothing I received from any of the doctors I visited could have "cured" me. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, perhaps it was a passing bug or virus, or perhaps it was just something I ate. It's over now and I'm glad to be rid of it.
Classes have resumed at school and I'm picking up where I left off as best I can. Some students listen, some students don't. The same goes for the teachers I have to work with: some listen, some don't. Most of the schools have done a pretty good job of being prepared to discuss and start classes on the very first day I am available to teach (with this morning being a notable but ultimately predictable exception).
The best news out of all of this is that Go remained happy and healthy throughout the month, so whatever the hell happened to me it didn't have any visible effect on him. I leave you with this photo of him as evidence that my son is, objectively speaking, the most adorable baby of all time.
Labels: family, frustration, Japan, JET, number one son, poor health, teaching
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Burden of Being Abroad?
The second semester has begun a week earlier than usual thanks to that flu panic Osaka went through back in May (coincidentally, the flu is back in the news this week as the country faces an increase in the number of cases). The good news is that the weather has magically cooperated, offering us lower humidity and cooler temperatures in the morning and evening. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was September...in New York.
Yesterday was the opening ceremony (yes, Japan has opening and closing ceremonies for every school semester) which meant I saw the students but then quickly waved goodbye and watched them all leave at 11 AM. I can see the logic in not having any classes after a closing ceremony, but why do opening ceremonies get their own education-free days?
I shouldn't complain, really, because we teachers always get together and have a nice box lunch on these opening and closing days. My lunch yesterday was quite substantial, although I could have done without the extra plate of mostly-pickled vegetables. They were obviously homemade and extremely sour. Why would you do that to a pumpkin in the first place?
I enjoy these meals because they offer a nice change of pace from the usual school lunches and because I really like Japanese food. However, the one nuisance factor is that if I attempt to discuss or ask any questions about the food, I then bring upon myself another round of "can you eat Japanese food?" and "oooh, you use chopsticks so well!" inanity. I know two wrongs don't make a right, but some days I wish I could catch these people eating a bowl of fettuccine and ask them "can you eat Italian food?" and "wow, you know how to use utensils!"
It didn't help that throughout lunch, one of the older teachers ("M-sensei") was talking about her trip to China over the summer. All she could talk about was how awful it was to hear so many foreigners talking and how upset she was about having to use English even though she still used Japanese when pointing at maps and asking directions. Her summary of the trip was "In the end I was just happy to be back in Japan" and everyone laughed, not in a "you are a horribly sheltered person" kind of way but in a "I know just what you mean" kind of way.
I know I'm a big weirdo for leaving my home country and moving to another one for an extended, indefinite period of time, but is this seriously how the majority (or even a substantial minority) thinks about traveling abroad? What is it about hearing an unfamiliar language that becomes troubling or upsetting to so many people? I've been to Asia twice now (not counting Japan) and even though English was common enough for me to get by, the dominant language present was still Chinese. It's not a particularly easy language on the ears, in my opinion, but being surrounded by it didn't bother me in the slightest.
Perhaps it's my American or even my New York upbringing that makes a difference. Of course English is my native tongue but I've been hearing other languages spoken around me for decades. Kids at school, people at work, or even just random folks on the street have all exposed me to regular doses of foreign languages over the years. Aside from the occasional foreign pop culture import or an annoying English teacher at school, few Japanese people have had that experience. Maybe if I was as sheltered as they are, listening to a conversation in Russian or Thai for the first time might piss me off as well. But if that were the case, why would I take an overseas trip in the first place? Did someone force this lady onto a plane at gunpoint?
I guess I'm biased, because she happens to be one of my least favorite teachers to deal with in all the schools I visit. She manages to be simultaneously incredibly lax with disruptive students and unnecessarily cruel to students who have too much energy. She gets way too physical with the naughtier kids which isn't that unusual in Japan but that doesn't magically make me accept smacking kids in the head as normal. She also routinely "forgets" about English class even though her classroom is adjacent to mine. Worst of all, she is a first grade teacher so this is the example these poor kids are getting when they first come to English class: a grumpy adult who wants nothing to do with foreign languages.
I don't want to keep harping on this soon-to-be-retired elderly lady but she really crossed the line yesterday when she managed to fall asleep during our meeting about this semester's English plan. I'll admit I've nodded off during meetings before, but those were always massive affairs that didn't particularly apply to me and they were conducted entirely in Japanese. Yesterday's meeting was only for four people (including me) and was entirely in Japanese for her benefit and she still couldn't bother to stay awake. I predict a few "forgotten" lessons in my future this fall.
Too bad she wasn't the only person who couldn't make it through an English meeting with their eyes open yesterday. The sixth-grade teacher, a young man who is very friendly to me and often gives me a lift to school in the morning, said absolutely nothing during our meeting and almost lost consciousness several times. This is a guy who tries his best to participate in class and serves as a good role model for the students and yet he had nothing to contribute to a meeting about English education. If he doesn't care, what hope do I have of ever reaching people like M-sensei?
Of course, I could be overreacting. I wasn't exactly chipper and alert yesterday afternoon either, and even when these meetings serve a purpose there are just so damn many to endure in Japan that it's understandable how people could just tune out right in the middle. What's most important is that, at least at this school, the lesson plans and necessary materials for the entire semester are already finished. That is extremely good news, not just for me but for the students.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need a nap. I've been up for hours.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Yesterday was the opening ceremony (yes, Japan has opening and closing ceremonies for every school semester) which meant I saw the students but then quickly waved goodbye and watched them all leave at 11 AM. I can see the logic in not having any classes after a closing ceremony, but why do opening ceremonies get their own education-free days?
I shouldn't complain, really, because we teachers always get together and have a nice box lunch on these opening and closing days. My lunch yesterday was quite substantial, although I could have done without the extra plate of mostly-pickled vegetables. They were obviously homemade and extremely sour. Why would you do that to a pumpkin in the first place?
I enjoy these meals because they offer a nice change of pace from the usual school lunches and because I really like Japanese food. However, the one nuisance factor is that if I attempt to discuss or ask any questions about the food, I then bring upon myself another round of "can you eat Japanese food?" and "oooh, you use chopsticks so well!" inanity. I know two wrongs don't make a right, but some days I wish I could catch these people eating a bowl of fettuccine and ask them "can you eat Italian food?" and "wow, you know how to use utensils!"
It didn't help that throughout lunch, one of the older teachers ("M-sensei") was talking about her trip to China over the summer. All she could talk about was how awful it was to hear so many foreigners talking and how upset she was about having to use English even though she still used Japanese when pointing at maps and asking directions. Her summary of the trip was "In the end I was just happy to be back in Japan" and everyone laughed, not in a "you are a horribly sheltered person" kind of way but in a "I know just what you mean" kind of way.
I know I'm a big weirdo for leaving my home country and moving to another one for an extended, indefinite period of time, but is this seriously how the majority (or even a substantial minority) thinks about traveling abroad? What is it about hearing an unfamiliar language that becomes troubling or upsetting to so many people? I've been to Asia twice now (not counting Japan) and even though English was common enough for me to get by, the dominant language present was still Chinese. It's not a particularly easy language on the ears, in my opinion, but being surrounded by it didn't bother me in the slightest.
Perhaps it's my American or even my New York upbringing that makes a difference. Of course English is my native tongue but I've been hearing other languages spoken around me for decades. Kids at school, people at work, or even just random folks on the street have all exposed me to regular doses of foreign languages over the years. Aside from the occasional foreign pop culture import or an annoying English teacher at school, few Japanese people have had that experience. Maybe if I was as sheltered as they are, listening to a conversation in Russian or Thai for the first time might piss me off as well. But if that were the case, why would I take an overseas trip in the first place? Did someone force this lady onto a plane at gunpoint?
I guess I'm biased, because she happens to be one of my least favorite teachers to deal with in all the schools I visit. She manages to be simultaneously incredibly lax with disruptive students and unnecessarily cruel to students who have too much energy. She gets way too physical with the naughtier kids which isn't that unusual in Japan but that doesn't magically make me accept smacking kids in the head as normal. She also routinely "forgets" about English class even though her classroom is adjacent to mine. Worst of all, she is a first grade teacher so this is the example these poor kids are getting when they first come to English class: a grumpy adult who wants nothing to do with foreign languages.
I don't want to keep harping on this soon-to-be-retired elderly lady but she really crossed the line yesterday when she managed to fall asleep during our meeting about this semester's English plan. I'll admit I've nodded off during meetings before, but those were always massive affairs that didn't particularly apply to me and they were conducted entirely in Japanese. Yesterday's meeting was only for four people (including me) and was entirely in Japanese for her benefit and she still couldn't bother to stay awake. I predict a few "forgotten" lessons in my future this fall.
Too bad she wasn't the only person who couldn't make it through an English meeting with their eyes open yesterday. The sixth-grade teacher, a young man who is very friendly to me and often gives me a lift to school in the morning, said absolutely nothing during our meeting and almost lost consciousness several times. This is a guy who tries his best to participate in class and serves as a good role model for the students and yet he had nothing to contribute to a meeting about English education. If he doesn't care, what hope do I have of ever reaching people like M-sensei?
Of course, I could be overreacting. I wasn't exactly chipper and alert yesterday afternoon either, and even when these meetings serve a purpose there are just so damn many to endure in Japan that it's understandable how people could just tune out right in the middle. What's most important is that, at least at this school, the lesson plans and necessary materials for the entire semester are already finished. That is extremely good news, not just for me but for the students.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need a nap. I've been up for hours.
Labels: frustration, I hate people, Japan, teaching
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Friday, June 19, 2009
Bring on the Crying Infant Already
It's Friday night again and yes, we are still childless. I'm waiting with Mako at her parents' house, just like I did last weekend when I thought we were done with this process. Will the baby be born this weekend? Maybe, but at this point the doctors are just saying the same thing every week: "The baby will come soon." Thanks, Doc!
Besides not sleeping well, a major result of this baby anxiety has been my attitude towards work. I can't really explain it, but with each new day I go to work wondering when my son will be born, the less I want to go to school and put up with what I put up with. It's not that things have been particularly rough this month, I just find myself running low on patience. With all of the stress this waiting has brought me, the little things I endure at work/in Japan have just felt a bit more irritating.
Of course, that goes right back to my issues with spending my entire weekend with my in-laws. My wife is Japanese and I live in Japan, of course, but normally I spend Saturday and Sunday relaxing in a way that offers me an escape from my weekday routine. When I instead come here and stay in their house, I'm spending that much more time "in Japan" and the stress builds up. I may not have to go to work but I'm still being bombarded with Japanese idiosyncrasies and the like while I'm here.
For example, after five days of being peppered with English questions that range from profound to unanswerable, it's a bit of drag for the parade to continue into my weekend. My wife's parents have both, in their own way, been increasingly asking me about the English language and foreign customs. My mother-in-law has even started taking English lessons from somebody and she can't wait to talk to me about what she's been studying. She's also asking me to translate random words into English now, which my coworkers and students have been doing for almost two years.
I know I sound like a pissy, bitter jerk right now, but that's the point. None of these little things are new developments, they're just accumulating en masse at the same time as I'm trying to come to terms with this baby we're having. Stuff I had accepted as part of life in Japan is no longer quietly resting in the back of my mind, easily ignored and tolerated as par for the course. I consider myself pretty adept at dealing with the so-called small stuff, but in my present situation even the small stuff is really getting on my nerves.
I just want this pregnancy to end. I'm sure the baby will present a new world of challenges and none of the things that bother me right now will go away, but that's a different matter entirely. Mako and I will work together to raise the baby. We can't work together to deal with the pregnancy. We are separated both physically and mentally and I've had enough. Give me back my wife, kiddo. Your nine months are up!
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Besides not sleeping well, a major result of this baby anxiety has been my attitude towards work. I can't really explain it, but with each new day I go to work wondering when my son will be born, the less I want to go to school and put up with what I put up with. It's not that things have been particularly rough this month, I just find myself running low on patience. With all of the stress this waiting has brought me, the little things I endure at work/in Japan have just felt a bit more irritating.
Of course, that goes right back to my issues with spending my entire weekend with my in-laws. My wife is Japanese and I live in Japan, of course, but normally I spend Saturday and Sunday relaxing in a way that offers me an escape from my weekday routine. When I instead come here and stay in their house, I'm spending that much more time "in Japan" and the stress builds up. I may not have to go to work but I'm still being bombarded with Japanese idiosyncrasies and the like while I'm here.
For example, after five days of being peppered with English questions that range from profound to unanswerable, it's a bit of drag for the parade to continue into my weekend. My wife's parents have both, in their own way, been increasingly asking me about the English language and foreign customs. My mother-in-law has even started taking English lessons from somebody and she can't wait to talk to me about what she's been studying. She's also asking me to translate random words into English now, which my coworkers and students have been doing for almost two years.
I know I sound like a pissy, bitter jerk right now, but that's the point. None of these little things are new developments, they're just accumulating en masse at the same time as I'm trying to come to terms with this baby we're having. Stuff I had accepted as part of life in Japan is no longer quietly resting in the back of my mind, easily ignored and tolerated as par for the course. I consider myself pretty adept at dealing with the so-called small stuff, but in my present situation even the small stuff is really getting on my nerves.
I just want this pregnancy to end. I'm sure the baby will present a new world of challenges and none of the things that bother me right now will go away, but that's a different matter entirely. Mako and I will work together to raise the baby. We can't work together to deal with the pregnancy. We are separated both physically and mentally and I've had enough. Give me back my wife, kiddo. Your nine months are up!
Labels: family, frustration, Japan, pregnancy
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, June 15, 2009
Let's NOT Tap
As someone who spends a lot of his free time furiously pressing buttons as a form of entertainment, I feel I must complain about video game makers forcing me to furiously press buttons.
I sense your confusion. Allow me to elaborate: even though playing video games means pressing buttons on the controller to interface with the software, that's not all it is. Playing video games is an extremely simplified exercise in problem solving. Whether I'm trying to get my plumber safely through a flame-ridden castle, running and gunning against the forces of Hell or simply maneuvering little blocks into neat little stacks as they fall from the top of the screen, all video games present me with a sequence of tasks or dilemmas and force me to solve each one in order to proceed to the next. Even though I do press buttons to accomplish this, it's up to me to figure out which buttons must be pressed at what times to get the job done. At some point during that process, I have fun.
What isn't fun and what I feel runs counter to the fundamentals of playing video games is the mindless button mashing of the "quick time event." Rather than challenge me with a puzzle or offer me a twist on a familiar task, a QTE instead requires me to press a button immediately. If I do it, the game continues; failure means I must start the QTE over again. It is purely a exercise in twitch reflexes and it is the epitome of frustration.
Again, I'm picking up your resistance to my argument. Regardless of how games present themselves to the player, you're wondering, isn't success or failure always going to come down to pressing the right button at the right time? In other words, if I push B instead of A when approaching a pit, won't the plumber fall into it and force me to restart the level? And by reducing gameplay to this core mechanic of "press the button now," aren't QTEs actually easier than playing the regular game anyway? What's the big deal?
The difference is two-fold, in my opinion. All games have a learning curve that trains players to make the right decisions to play the game. Earlier stages introduce the important elements of the game world and later stages raise the bar one step at a time. In learning the ropes, players also become accustomed to what each button does to the point that using the controller becomes second-nature. QTEs have no gradient or teaching ability. They will always be nothing more than urgently pressing buttons, and those buttons rarely perform the same function they do in the game, if ever. It is completely arbitrary and meaningless, making it harder than that it sounds.
Beyond the pure mechanics, QTEs feel unfair because they exist outside the game world as the player understands it. No matter how far your character has progressed, no matter how many weapons, power-ups or health items you have collected, your inability to press a single button on demand can end the game. In the case of Resident Evil 5, my character is carrying enough artillery to flatten a small city and I have the know-how to avoid most any attacker in the game, yet I am repeatedly shoehorned into QTE-driven cut scenes that have me dodging motorcyclists and giant tentacles. Just let me shoot them and move on!
More than any other gripe I have about QTEs, the most important and most basic one is that they are boring. The buttons may change but the outcome never does. They are not satisfying in the slightest, not on the first playthrough and certainly not on the second or third. Games like Resident Evil 5 demand multiple completions to access more features. If I know what's coming, why not just let me skip QTEs as easily as I skip any other cinematic sequence? Either way I am just staring at the screen and watching the characters on auto-pilot. I'm certainly not playing the game that I want to play. I'm not "playing" anything at all; I feel like I'm being experimented upon by B.F. Skinner instead, and that's not worth my money or my time.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I sense your confusion. Allow me to elaborate: even though playing video games means pressing buttons on the controller to interface with the software, that's not all it is. Playing video games is an extremely simplified exercise in problem solving. Whether I'm trying to get my plumber safely through a flame-ridden castle, running and gunning against the forces of Hell or simply maneuvering little blocks into neat little stacks as they fall from the top of the screen, all video games present me with a sequence of tasks or dilemmas and force me to solve each one in order to proceed to the next. Even though I do press buttons to accomplish this, it's up to me to figure out which buttons must be pressed at what times to get the job done. At some point during that process, I have fun.
What isn't fun and what I feel runs counter to the fundamentals of playing video games is the mindless button mashing of the "quick time event." Rather than challenge me with a puzzle or offer me a twist on a familiar task, a QTE instead requires me to press a button immediately. If I do it, the game continues; failure means I must start the QTE over again. It is purely a exercise in twitch reflexes and it is the epitome of frustration.
Again, I'm picking up your resistance to my argument. Regardless of how games present themselves to the player, you're wondering, isn't success or failure always going to come down to pressing the right button at the right time? In other words, if I push B instead of A when approaching a pit, won't the plumber fall into it and force me to restart the level? And by reducing gameplay to this core mechanic of "press the button now," aren't QTEs actually easier than playing the regular game anyway? What's the big deal?
The difference is two-fold, in my opinion. All games have a learning curve that trains players to make the right decisions to play the game. Earlier stages introduce the important elements of the game world and later stages raise the bar one step at a time. In learning the ropes, players also become accustomed to what each button does to the point that using the controller becomes second-nature. QTEs have no gradient or teaching ability. They will always be nothing more than urgently pressing buttons, and those buttons rarely perform the same function they do in the game, if ever. It is completely arbitrary and meaningless, making it harder than that it sounds.
Beyond the pure mechanics, QTEs feel unfair because they exist outside the game world as the player understands it. No matter how far your character has progressed, no matter how many weapons, power-ups or health items you have collected, your inability to press a single button on demand can end the game. In the case of Resident Evil 5, my character is carrying enough artillery to flatten a small city and I have the know-how to avoid most any attacker in the game, yet I am repeatedly shoehorned into QTE-driven cut scenes that have me dodging motorcyclists and giant tentacles. Just let me shoot them and move on!
More than any other gripe I have about QTEs, the most important and most basic one is that they are boring. The buttons may change but the outcome never does. They are not satisfying in the slightest, not on the first playthrough and certainly not on the second or third. Games like Resident Evil 5 demand multiple completions to access more features. If I know what's coming, why not just let me skip QTEs as easily as I skip any other cinematic sequence? Either way I am just staring at the screen and watching the characters on auto-pilot. I'm certainly not playing the game that I want to play. I'm not "playing" anything at all; I feel like I'm being experimented upon by B.F. Skinner instead, and that's not worth my money or my time.
Labels: frustration, Resident Evil, video games
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, May 18, 2009
Japan-demic Panic
It's finally happened. Swine Flu, A/H1N1, whatever name you prefer...the infection has crossed the Pacific and entered the heart of Japan. In fact, the first domestic case was confirmed right in my metropolitan backyard: Kobe. Within days there were reports of more cases of the "new flu" (新型インフルエンザ as the Japanese call it) in both Hyogo and Osaka prefectures, particularly in high schools where students had recently traveled abroad. After weeks of watching the news and shrugging my shoulders at the panicky flu coverage, it seems it is finally Japan's turn to show the world what the word "overreaction" means.
You see, ever since the first mention of dead people in Mexico, Japan has really embraced this flu as a global crisis. All inbound international flights (especially those from North America) have been "inspected" for potentially infected passengers for weeks now. Anyone with a fever triggered national news stories and immediate isolation, only to discover that the traveler simply had ordinary flu as opposed to the new and scary flu. Of course, they weren't making any moves to quarantine the other people on board who had been sealed inside the plane with this sick person for the previous fourteen hours, so their health inspections were clearly just for show.
During that time, as the virus spread to other nations, the Japanese media kept this story at or near the top of the page/hour every damn day. I saw interviews with high schoolers from Queens who knew a kid who had the flu (allegedly). Even if they were telling the truth, who cares? The story was always the same: "My friend got sick for a few days. Then she got better." No revelations, no advice, no news of any kind, yet all the while Mako was sitting next to me on the couch, eating it up and telling me how worried she was.
Now that the new flu is actually here, the panic has begun. Entire school districts are closing for the week. The flimsy masks that people wear out of fear which offer little meaningful protection immediately sold out of all the stores. The airport health inspections, which were already completely inadequate and overly long, are now taking into consideration potential in-flight infections. So now if someone has a fever, they may quarantine everybody sitting in that poor bastard's section. This still won't realistically prevent the disease from spreading, of course, and since it's already here and circulating these measures feel extra clueless to me.
Speaking of "clueless," late last night I got a phone call from a teacher telling me that Hana Town, despite being relatively isolated in the mountains of Osaka, has also decided to close all their schools for the week. This was great news for me because it meant an impromptu vacation; better still, an impromptu vacation that started just as I was starting to dread getting ready for Monday morning. With sumo on TV and a ton of games to play, I thought I might not leave the apartment for days!
On a hunch, I sent a message to my supervisor at the board of education confirming that schools were closed. I knew the teacher wasn't lying or mistaken, but I wondered if I wasn't being too, you know, logical about the matter. As it turned out, I was. Yes, schools are closed all week to help prevent this scary new flu from spreading in Hana Town, but the teachers are still expected to go to work. Either they consider us expendable in that it doesn't matter if we spread the disease amongst ourselves as we sit in the office all week, or they fundamentally do not understand the point of closing schools to keep an infection at bay.
There is a silver lining to this spooky germ cloud. Mako is at her parents' house now, so there's little chance I'll bring anything home from my commute to nowhere. I probably won't get sick, of course, but I will totally get paid and I will have plenty of time to write which is something I haven't done much of this month. And if today is any indication, the teachers might use this week of free time to actually talk to me about English classes.
So to my readers in Japan: wash your hands a lot and don't make out with any strangers for a while. And to my readers abroad, well, chances are you're already infected. Try to contact a Japanese news agency and see if you can share your exciting fever stories!
つづく...(Click here to read more)
You see, ever since the first mention of dead people in Mexico, Japan has really embraced this flu as a global crisis. All inbound international flights (especially those from North America) have been "inspected" for potentially infected passengers for weeks now. Anyone with a fever triggered national news stories and immediate isolation, only to discover that the traveler simply had ordinary flu as opposed to the new and scary flu. Of course, they weren't making any moves to quarantine the other people on board who had been sealed inside the plane with this sick person for the previous fourteen hours, so their health inspections were clearly just for show.
During that time, as the virus spread to other nations, the Japanese media kept this story at or near the top of the page/hour every damn day. I saw interviews with high schoolers from Queens who knew a kid who had the flu (allegedly). Even if they were telling the truth, who cares? The story was always the same: "My friend got sick for a few days. Then she got better." No revelations, no advice, no news of any kind, yet all the while Mako was sitting next to me on the couch, eating it up and telling me how worried she was.
Now that the new flu is actually here, the panic has begun. Entire school districts are closing for the week. The flimsy masks that people wear out of fear which offer little meaningful protection immediately sold out of all the stores. The airport health inspections, which were already completely inadequate and overly long, are now taking into consideration potential in-flight infections. So now if someone has a fever, they may quarantine everybody sitting in that poor bastard's section. This still won't realistically prevent the disease from spreading, of course, and since it's already here and circulating these measures feel extra clueless to me.
Speaking of "clueless," late last night I got a phone call from a teacher telling me that Hana Town, despite being relatively isolated in the mountains of Osaka, has also decided to close all their schools for the week. This was great news for me because it meant an impromptu vacation; better still, an impromptu vacation that started just as I was starting to dread getting ready for Monday morning. With sumo on TV and a ton of games to play, I thought I might not leave the apartment for days!
On a hunch, I sent a message to my supervisor at the board of education confirming that schools were closed. I knew the teacher wasn't lying or mistaken, but I wondered if I wasn't being too, you know, logical about the matter. As it turned out, I was. Yes, schools are closed all week to help prevent this scary new flu from spreading in Hana Town, but the teachers are still expected to go to work. Either they consider us expendable in that it doesn't matter if we spread the disease amongst ourselves as we sit in the office all week, or they fundamentally do not understand the point of closing schools to keep an infection at bay.
There is a silver lining to this spooky germ cloud. Mako is at her parents' house now, so there's little chance I'll bring anything home from my commute to nowhere. I probably won't get sick, of course, but I will totally get paid and I will have plenty of time to write which is something I haven't done much of this month. And if today is any indication, the teachers might use this week of free time to actually talk to me about English classes.
So to my readers in Japan: wash your hands a lot and don't make out with any strangers for a while. And to my readers abroad, well, chances are you're already infected. Try to contact a Japanese news agency and see if you can share your exciting fever stories!
Labels: frustration, Japan, new flu
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Climb Every Mountain
This week went pretty fast. Being thrown under the bus can make time fly, I suppose.
OK, that's an unfair exaggeration, but it was a long week that left me little time for writing because I had to prepare most of my lessons on the fly. When I made it through last week without any lesson plans, I thought things would be different this week. The only difference was that I had already taught a few classes so I had a better idea of how to handle being underprepared...again. Yes, my Monday school must have been really impressed with how I handled myself last week, because this week they left me hanging again, forcing me to come up with another round of lessons on my own. Thursday was the same story in a different building, only in that school I had done absolutely nothing last week. We could have talked about materials or potential lessons, but instead I got a lot of "sorry we're not ready" apologies. Then I show up this week and they want everything right away.
There's a great line in Fight Club that seems eerily appropriate for describing how these elementary schools think about their English language education: "[it] exists only in the hours between when fight club starts and when fight club ends." Despite all the meetings and e-mails, despite the abundance of technology that allows these folks to communicate with one another (and with me!), it's clear to me that until I walk through the front door of their school each week, I do not exist. What other excuse could there be for them to accomplish absolutely nothing in an entire week between my visits?
Things ended up working out, thanks entirely to me. I feel like an ass even saying it like that, but what other way can I put it? If they're not going to help plan the lessons and they don't help teach the lessons, what other choice do I have? Should I just fail spectacularly once in the hopes that it might convince them to stop leaving everything up to me? Maybe my constant delivery of mediocrity is making them too comfortable. They don't need quality lessons because I'm giving them bland, good-enough lessons without all the bother of having a conversation with me beforehand or, you know, actually teaching their own students. Similarly, I don't want to turn into a proactive taskmaster, calling schools on my own time to convince them to do their jobs, because I assume that will make them do even less on their own. I genuinely believe at this point that there is an inverse relationship between the amount of effort I put in and their reciprocal behavior.
On Monday I have to go back to the tiny mountain school for the first time in over a year. As you might expect, the only I reason I knew I was going there was because I was nosy and I started asking a lot of questions about a note written on the blackboard at my regular Monday school. Turns out they've decided to alternate my lessons between the two schools. Why this information wouldn't be brought to my immediate attention, I have no idea. Again, the meeting took place when I wasn't around, so I did not exist at the time.
But hey, at least the week ended very well. Yesterday I went to the good school and we went on a field trip. The entire student body and a dozen teachers took a long walk up into the mountains and back again. We took frequent breaks, but we were definitely on our feet for at least four hours during the six and a half we were out of the building. I had a lot of fun and the whole outing reminded me of how good things can be when schools welcome me and treat me as a person. This is the same school that regularly invites me to after-work meals - there's one coming up this Tuesday, in fact.
It also helps that I have a very good relationship with the students at this school, although there were a few odd moments yesterday. More than one student expressed shock at hearing me speak Japanese. While I do try to speak as much English as possible in class (a luxury I have only when I get to be the assistant rather than the sole teacher), I have been eating lunch and playing outside with these kids for over a year. I don't use much English at all during those times, yet somehow they've managed to forget all about those Pokemon conversations we've had. There was also one kid who started calling me gaijin and I had to explain to him why that was rude. And the weirdest exchange of all came after one of the new first graders learned I was an American:
But kids will be kids, and I ain't mad at 'em. I figure each time we have to get to know each other over again, we get a little bit closer. I took lots of pictures of the excursion, both with my phone and my regular camera. The small images are visible on my twitpic page while an assortment of the larger ones are in this album on Facebook.
After that very physically demanding day, I went out after dinner to a pub quiz in Osaka. I had gone to a number of these in months past, though last night was my first in quite some time. Things got off to a really great start when I came up with a prize-winning team name. The theme was Australia and New Zealand, and the first thing I thought of was "A Dingo Ate My Kiwi." From there, things stayed solid with a round based entirely on guessing the titles of movies from "literal" drawings. For example, a jar of preserves in orbit = Space Jam. We faltered a bit on the later rounds, and half of our team vanished before the game ended (that happens to me a lot) but we still won with 27 of 42 possible points. The prize was a bottle of cider, but it didn't last because in an instant there were strangers eager to share a glass with me. It's not about the prize anyway, it was about having fun and having a couple drinks. Mission Totally Accomplished!
Took it very easy today, thanks in small part to a downpour that lasted well into the afternoon, but that's OK. I'm a bit pink from being in the sun anyway. I'll leave the house again tomorrow. Don't worry about me, by the way. I complain when things get rough around here but as yesterday shows, the highs more than make up for the lows.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
OK, that's an unfair exaggeration, but it was a long week that left me little time for writing because I had to prepare most of my lessons on the fly. When I made it through last week without any lesson plans, I thought things would be different this week. The only difference was that I had already taught a few classes so I had a better idea of how to handle being underprepared...again. Yes, my Monday school must have been really impressed with how I handled myself last week, because this week they left me hanging again, forcing me to come up with another round of lessons on my own. Thursday was the same story in a different building, only in that school I had done absolutely nothing last week. We could have talked about materials or potential lessons, but instead I got a lot of "sorry we're not ready" apologies. Then I show up this week and they want everything right away.
There's a great line in Fight Club that seems eerily appropriate for describing how these elementary schools think about their English language education: "[it] exists only in the hours between when fight club starts and when fight club ends." Despite all the meetings and e-mails, despite the abundance of technology that allows these folks to communicate with one another (and with me!), it's clear to me that until I walk through the front door of their school each week, I do not exist. What other excuse could there be for them to accomplish absolutely nothing in an entire week between my visits?
Things ended up working out, thanks entirely to me. I feel like an ass even saying it like that, but what other way can I put it? If they're not going to help plan the lessons and they don't help teach the lessons, what other choice do I have? Should I just fail spectacularly once in the hopes that it might convince them to stop leaving everything up to me? Maybe my constant delivery of mediocrity is making them too comfortable. They don't need quality lessons because I'm giving them bland, good-enough lessons without all the bother of having a conversation with me beforehand or, you know, actually teaching their own students. Similarly, I don't want to turn into a proactive taskmaster, calling schools on my own time to convince them to do their jobs, because I assume that will make them do even less on their own. I genuinely believe at this point that there is an inverse relationship between the amount of effort I put in and their reciprocal behavior.
On Monday I have to go back to the tiny mountain school for the first time in over a year. As you might expect, the only I reason I knew I was going there was because I was nosy and I started asking a lot of questions about a note written on the blackboard at my regular Monday school. Turns out they've decided to alternate my lessons between the two schools. Why this information wouldn't be brought to my immediate attention, I have no idea. Again, the meeting took place when I wasn't around, so I did not exist at the time.
But hey, at least the week ended very well. Yesterday I went to the good school and we went on a field trip. The entire student body and a dozen teachers took a long walk up into the mountains and back again. We took frequent breaks, but we were definitely on our feet for at least four hours during the six and a half we were out of the building. I had a lot of fun and the whole outing reminded me of how good things can be when schools welcome me and treat me as a person. This is the same school that regularly invites me to after-work meals - there's one coming up this Tuesday, in fact.
It also helps that I have a very good relationship with the students at this school, although there were a few odd moments yesterday. More than one student expressed shock at hearing me speak Japanese. While I do try to speak as much English as possible in class (a luxury I have only when I get to be the assistant rather than the sole teacher), I have been eating lunch and playing outside with these kids for over a year. I don't use much English at all during those times, yet somehow they've managed to forget all about those Pokemon conversations we've had. There was also one kid who started calling me gaijin and I had to explain to him why that was rude. And the weirdest exchange of all came after one of the new first graders learned I was an American:
Boy: "Do you like war?"
Me: "No, no one likes that!"
Boy: "Then why does America fight wars?"
Me: (declining to explain that I do not get to choose when and how America fights in wars) "Nobody likes war, not even those who fight in them."
But kids will be kids, and I ain't mad at 'em. I figure each time we have to get to know each other over again, we get a little bit closer. I took lots of pictures of the excursion, both with my phone and my regular camera. The small images are visible on my twitpic page while an assortment of the larger ones are in this album on Facebook.
After that very physically demanding day, I went out after dinner to a pub quiz in Osaka. I had gone to a number of these in months past, though last night was my first in quite some time. Things got off to a really great start when I came up with a prize-winning team name. The theme was Australia and New Zealand, and the first thing I thought of was "A Dingo Ate My Kiwi." From there, things stayed solid with a round based entirely on guessing the titles of movies from "literal" drawings. For example, a jar of preserves in orbit = Space Jam. We faltered a bit on the later rounds, and half of our team vanished before the game ended (that happens to me a lot) but we still won with 27 of 42 possible points. The prize was a bottle of cider, but it didn't last because in an instant there were strangers eager to share a glass with me. It's not about the prize anyway, it was about having fun and having a couple drinks. Mission Totally Accomplished!
Took it very easy today, thanks in small part to a downpour that lasted well into the afternoon, but that's OK. I'm a bit pink from being in the sun anyway. I'll leave the house again tomorrow. Don't worry about me, by the way. I complain when things get rough around here but as yesterday shows, the highs more than make up for the lows.
Labels: frustration, JET, Osaka, teaching, workout
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Friday, April 03, 2009
At Last
This Friday marks the end of Spring vacation. Finally, I can start working at work again!
I know that sounds wrong but hear me out. For two weeks I've been reporting to student-less schools and empty staff rooms and facing the same ordeal: none of the teachers are able to understand why I'm even there or willing to think about English classes because they're too busy wondering if they may be changing schools. This leaves me no choice but to spend all my time wondering what the hell I'm doing there myself. This job is always balancing itself between two ludicrous extremes. Sometimes I feel like an irreplaceable superhero who shows these sheltered kids that foreign countries are not weird or scary but simply different in certain ways. Other times I feel like a completely superfluous cog in a machine that resents my very presence. It is during these stretches of no classes that the second attitude rears its ugly head because I am literally wasting my time in an childless school day after day. No one cares to talk to me about anything nor do they even discuss matters that directly pertain to me.
For example, I mentioned last Friday that when I came to work as usual, there was an implausible yet somehow predictable level of confusion from everyone involved. The principal apologized for not telling me that I didn't need to be there and I was encouraged to go home early. Well, today I went back to that same school and...yeah, the exact same thing happened. Even though we went through this routine just one week earlier, the principal still acted as if he had no idea I was going to show up. What's worse is, his reason was that he heard that I would be going to a different school, but no one considered calling me and asking. Certainly when I last saw them, I said "see you next Friday" before I left. I make it a point to do that in the hopes that the staff will get used to my presence and associate me with a certain day of the week. A year and a half into this job, it seems my efforts are not producing very promising results. So as much as I enjoy spending my time writing for my blog or reading about the sleeping habits of babies, I am very eager to finally get back to work so I can be reminded of the good times: the times when there are children and adults who actually care whether I show up for work or not.
If there is a bright spot to this week, it has been the arrival of two friends from Tokyo. I first met them through Richard and we have sung together and explored Yoyogi Park together. Now they've decided to return to States to pursue new things, but before they leave they're visiting the Kansai area. Last night I met them in Namba and we spent the evening together. At first we roamed around Den Den Town for a look at the endless supplies of curiosities for sale there, then we sat down for a delicious array of yakitori. Full of chicken and a modest amount of liquor (for a weekday anyway) we walked over to the bright lights of Dotonbori and then toured the less-than-bright streets of Amerika-mura. While they said they had been to Osaka before, it had been quite some time and they didn't really remember much. I felt glad that I was able to give them a better glimpse of "my town," especially since they had tried to humanize Tokyo for me whenever I visited "their town."
In the meantime, I'm here at work, staring at the clock and waiting for my weekend to start. With the cherry blossoms nearly on full display, my hope is to meet up with my former Tokyo friends again tomorrow for some picnickin' and flower viewin' in Osaka Castle Park. That is, if it doesn't rain all weekend and wash away the pink. Guess there's always karaoke...
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I know that sounds wrong but hear me out. For two weeks I've been reporting to student-less schools and empty staff rooms and facing the same ordeal: none of the teachers are able to understand why I'm even there or willing to think about English classes because they're too busy wondering if they may be changing schools. This leaves me no choice but to spend all my time wondering what the hell I'm doing there myself. This job is always balancing itself between two ludicrous extremes. Sometimes I feel like an irreplaceable superhero who shows these sheltered kids that foreign countries are not weird or scary but simply different in certain ways. Other times I feel like a completely superfluous cog in a machine that resents my very presence. It is during these stretches of no classes that the second attitude rears its ugly head because I am literally wasting my time in an childless school day after day. No one cares to talk to me about anything nor do they even discuss matters that directly pertain to me.
For example, I mentioned last Friday that when I came to work as usual, there was an implausible yet somehow predictable level of confusion from everyone involved. The principal apologized for not telling me that I didn't need to be there and I was encouraged to go home early. Well, today I went back to that same school and...yeah, the exact same thing happened. Even though we went through this routine just one week earlier, the principal still acted as if he had no idea I was going to show up. What's worse is, his reason was that he heard that I would be going to a different school, but no one considered calling me and asking. Certainly when I last saw them, I said "see you next Friday" before I left. I make it a point to do that in the hopes that the staff will get used to my presence and associate me with a certain day of the week. A year and a half into this job, it seems my efforts are not producing very promising results. So as much as I enjoy spending my time writing for my blog or reading about the sleeping habits of babies, I am very eager to finally get back to work so I can be reminded of the good times: the times when there are children and adults who actually care whether I show up for work or not.
If there is a bright spot to this week, it has been the arrival of two friends from Tokyo. I first met them through Richard and we have sung together and explored Yoyogi Park together. Now they've decided to return to States to pursue new things, but before they leave they're visiting the Kansai area. Last night I met them in Namba and we spent the evening together. At first we roamed around Den Den Town for a look at the endless supplies of curiosities for sale there, then we sat down for a delicious array of yakitori. Full of chicken and a modest amount of liquor (for a weekday anyway) we walked over to the bright lights of Dotonbori and then toured the less-than-bright streets of Amerika-mura. While they said they had been to Osaka before, it had been quite some time and they didn't really remember much. I felt glad that I was able to give them a better glimpse of "my town," especially since they had tried to humanize Tokyo for me whenever I visited "their town."
In the meantime, I'm here at work, staring at the clock and waiting for my weekend to start. With the cherry blossoms nearly on full display, my hope is to meet up with my former Tokyo friends again tomorrow for some picnickin' and flower viewin' in Osaka Castle Park. That is, if it doesn't rain all weekend and wash away the pink. Guess there's always karaoke...
Labels: friends, frustration, Japan, JET
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, March 09, 2009
What's in it for me?
Last night I found myself in quite a predicament. Facing off against a silver muscleman with a yin-yang for an abdomen, trapped inside a massive secret laboratory designed to test my abilities and improve my opponent's, I had no choice but to beat him to a pulp and ruin him and his experiment forever.
In other words, I was trying to beat Street Fighter IV.
The real predicament had nothing to do with a lab or or an opponent or fighting at all, of course. Everything that took place was between me and my PlayStation 3. But when playing a game like SFIV, I get very...what's the word...agitated. Excited, yes, but agitated. When things go right, there's a moment of pleasure, a feeling of a job well done. But when things go wrong and my opponent wins (be it human or computer controlled), there is the painful sting of failure. Worse, it hurts because I feel frustrated. I don't understand why I didn't win. Soon, I perceive victory as an impossibility. I couldn't have won because he/she/it was being unfair - "cheap" is the term used in fighting games all too liberally when we see tactics that we do not approve of. What's "cheap" can vary player to player and game to game, but rarely does it actually apply to cheaters. No, "cheap" simply labels a strategy or style of play as something that is inappropriate in the eyes of the defeated. In SFIV, this usually involves throwing.
Fighting games have long featured throwing as a close-combat tactic and it has always garnered the most anger from players, even though we couldn't play the game without it. Since fighting games require blocking to protect combatants from attacks, players could theoretically do nothing but defend and hold off an opponent forever (such a strategy is known as "turtling"). By using throws, which cannot be blocked, it forces players to keep moving and be alert. However, the ideal time to execute a throw is ambiguous, as there are many (including myself) who feel downright insulted or cheated when an opponent is aggressive with throws. There's no particular word to describe this strategy of attack, but players who throw a lot are often accused of being "cheap." As someone who is quick to throw that word out there, I honestly can't justify my angry use of it.
Yet I digress. The actual methods of playing Street Fighter IV are of little importance today. What I need to ask myself, and all of you out there reading this, is why do I play this game if it gets me so riled up? Why did I invest over a hundred dollars (if you include the joystick) in bringing this game into my home if turning it on takes me to such an ugly place?
Not all games do this to me, of course. This weekend, the critically-acclaimed World of Goo was offered on Steam for the insane price of five dollars. As Noby Noby Boy can attest to, I will play just about anything for five dollars, especially when it has such a glowing reputation. I put in about thirty minutes with this puzzle physics game that involves building rudimentary structures out of "goo." It's much more adorable and enjoyable than it sounds and I was quite taken in by the whole experience and look forward to playing it again. However, it paled in comparison to the feeling I got playing SFIV later that same night when I finally managed to smackdown that silver jerkoff Seth and beat the game, unlocking a new character in the process.
In answering my own question, I suspect the reason I keep coming back to games like SFIV over much more relaxing fare like World of Goo, PixelJunk Eden or any number of free web games over at Kongregate is that the peaks are very high, even when the gameplay takes me through some particularly low places. I get downright wicked when I play SFIV. I smack my hands onto things in anger, I raise my voice even though no one is listening, and I declare that the pile driver that just floored my on-screen avatar was "cheap." Who am I yelling at? Who cares about my complaints? No one; I just get so emotionally involved that I must let out the twisted, gnawing feelings inside me by any and all means available. If I lived alone in the woods I'm sure firing a weapon into the air would suffice.
So what is it about games like this that appeal to me? Is the brief, warm embrace of success worth all the aching failure that precedes it? I spent at least two hours playing SFIV on Friday night before I went to bed, facing a variety of opponents online and off, and I'm sure that I was in a foul mood for no less than three hours as a result: about 1:45 of the time I played the game and at least another hour after I quit in frustration. But those isolated moments when I pulled off that tricky combination of moves or beat some guy on the Internet in a close contest? Those were fifteen sensational minutes.
This may strike some of you as completely insane. Maybe you're starting to side with Mako in her quest to keep the Xbox out of our apartment and sell the PS3 while we're at it. I don't blame you for not understanding. But let me ask you this: don't we all have things that frustrate us again and again until we get it right? Isn't most of life about pursing X despite the problems that pursuit may bring? Aren't all successes, no matter how trivial, weighed against the struggles that were overcome en route?
Consider this radically different example: I know when I look back at my dating experiences of 2005, I remember an entire summer of being rejected and rejected and rejected again. Trying to meet someone on Craigslist is like a failure marathon. You have no choice but to repeatedly offer yourself to anonymous strangers in the hopes that they might write you back, and in the tantalizingly rare cases where they DO respond, there are a surprising number of people who will abruptly decline to reply to your follow-up email. Was it something you said? Was it the picture you submitted? You never know and it kills you inside trying to figure it all out. But I couldn't just stop and play "World of Goo" all summer instead, if you catch my meaning.
Because when it works...when you encounter someone who does think you're funny and clever...when you agree to meet in the real world and there's a silent acknowledgment that you like each other...when you first kiss each other in Hankyu Umeda station after watching a terrible movie but it didn't matter because the two of you were busy connecting on an emotional level...well, I need only to think about the brewing baby boy inside my wife's uterus to think about how great it was that I risked rejection and responded to her online personal ad in August of 2005. That was a "game" that I definitely beat, and the best part is there's no end in sight.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
In other words, I was trying to beat Street Fighter IV.
The real predicament had nothing to do with a lab or or an opponent or fighting at all, of course. Everything that took place was between me and my PlayStation 3. But when playing a game like SFIV, I get very...what's the word...agitated. Excited, yes, but agitated. When things go right, there's a moment of pleasure, a feeling of a job well done. But when things go wrong and my opponent wins (be it human or computer controlled), there is the painful sting of failure. Worse, it hurts because I feel frustrated. I don't understand why I didn't win. Soon, I perceive victory as an impossibility. I couldn't have won because he/she/it was being unfair - "cheap" is the term used in fighting games all too liberally when we see tactics that we do not approve of. What's "cheap" can vary player to player and game to game, but rarely does it actually apply to cheaters. No, "cheap" simply labels a strategy or style of play as something that is inappropriate in the eyes of the defeated. In SFIV, this usually involves throwing.
Fighting games have long featured throwing as a close-combat tactic and it has always garnered the most anger from players, even though we couldn't play the game without it. Since fighting games require blocking to protect combatants from attacks, players could theoretically do nothing but defend and hold off an opponent forever (such a strategy is known as "turtling"). By using throws, which cannot be blocked, it forces players to keep moving and be alert. However, the ideal time to execute a throw is ambiguous, as there are many (including myself) who feel downright insulted or cheated when an opponent is aggressive with throws. There's no particular word to describe this strategy of attack, but players who throw a lot are often accused of being "cheap." As someone who is quick to throw that word out there, I honestly can't justify my angry use of it.
Yet I digress. The actual methods of playing Street Fighter IV are of little importance today. What I need to ask myself, and all of you out there reading this, is why do I play this game if it gets me so riled up? Why did I invest over a hundred dollars (if you include the joystick) in bringing this game into my home if turning it on takes me to such an ugly place?
Not all games do this to me, of course. This weekend, the critically-acclaimed World of Goo was offered on Steam for the insane price of five dollars. As Noby Noby Boy can attest to, I will play just about anything for five dollars, especially when it has such a glowing reputation. I put in about thirty minutes with this puzzle physics game that involves building rudimentary structures out of "goo." It's much more adorable and enjoyable than it sounds and I was quite taken in by the whole experience and look forward to playing it again. However, it paled in comparison to the feeling I got playing SFIV later that same night when I finally managed to smackdown that silver jerkoff Seth and beat the game, unlocking a new character in the process.
In answering my own question, I suspect the reason I keep coming back to games like SFIV over much more relaxing fare like World of Goo, PixelJunk Eden or any number of free web games over at Kongregate is that the peaks are very high, even when the gameplay takes me through some particularly low places. I get downright wicked when I play SFIV. I smack my hands onto things in anger, I raise my voice even though no one is listening, and I declare that the pile driver that just floored my on-screen avatar was "cheap." Who am I yelling at? Who cares about my complaints? No one; I just get so emotionally involved that I must let out the twisted, gnawing feelings inside me by any and all means available. If I lived alone in the woods I'm sure firing a weapon into the air would suffice.
So what is it about games like this that appeal to me? Is the brief, warm embrace of success worth all the aching failure that precedes it? I spent at least two hours playing SFIV on Friday night before I went to bed, facing a variety of opponents online and off, and I'm sure that I was in a foul mood for no less than three hours as a result: about 1:45 of the time I played the game and at least another hour after I quit in frustration. But those isolated moments when I pulled off that tricky combination of moves or beat some guy on the Internet in a close contest? Those were fifteen sensational minutes.
This may strike some of you as completely insane. Maybe you're starting to side with Mako in her quest to keep the Xbox out of our apartment and sell the PS3 while we're at it. I don't blame you for not understanding. But let me ask you this: don't we all have things that frustrate us again and again until we get it right? Isn't most of life about pursing X despite the problems that pursuit may bring? Aren't all successes, no matter how trivial, weighed against the struggles that were overcome en route?
Consider this radically different example: I know when I look back at my dating experiences of 2005, I remember an entire summer of being rejected and rejected and rejected again. Trying to meet someone on Craigslist is like a failure marathon. You have no choice but to repeatedly offer yourself to anonymous strangers in the hopes that they might write you back, and in the tantalizingly rare cases where they DO respond, there are a surprising number of people who will abruptly decline to reply to your follow-up email. Was it something you said? Was it the picture you submitted? You never know and it kills you inside trying to figure it all out. But I couldn't just stop and play "World of Goo" all summer instead, if you catch my meaning.
Because when it works...when you encounter someone who does think you're funny and clever...when you agree to meet in the real world and there's a silent acknowledgment that you like each other...when you first kiss each other in Hankyu Umeda station after watching a terrible movie but it didn't matter because the two of you were busy connecting on an emotional level...well, I need only to think about the brewing baby boy inside my wife's uterus to think about how great it was that I risked rejection and responded to her online personal ad in August of 2005. That was a "game" that I definitely beat, and the best part is there's no end in sight.
Labels: Craigslist, dating, flash games, frustration, PixelJunk, PS3, Street Fighter IV, video games, World of Goo, Write or Die
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Very Merry Un-Welcome to Me
There's nothing quite as uncomfortable as having a guest make you feel unwanted in your own home. I haven't felt this awkward in twelve years, not since my mother had a friend spend a few days in our house who managed to judge my every move. Back then, it was more or less her house so there wasn't anything to be done. But today - this was a total affront to my head of household status. And yes, I do have that in writing.
I managed to home come early and noticed some extra shoes by the door. This isn't easy, as Mako keeps a half-dozen different pairs out for easy access, but even I could tell that she doesn't wear kid sizes anymore. I came inside and saw Mako talking to a woman I didn't know with a small child asleep on the couch. There was the barest of initial reaction to my presence: she threw out the standard Japanese tropes but neglected to offer me her name or anything actually substantive. All she really did was tell me that her kid was asleep and asked me if I could keep quiet. I went about my usual settling pattern - I put down my bag, took off my coat, etc. - but it wasn't until I stood in front of her and said my name out loud that she finally acknowledged me. Still, all I got was a name before she went back to chatting up Mako.
Since our guest was so intent on ignoring me, I went ahead and tried to ignore her. I started my usual after-work routine of flipping on the computer and catching up on Google Reader and my Twitter feeds. After about a half-hour of this, her kid finally started to show signs of life. At first, he turned towards his mother and Mako, but when they encouraged him to turn around, he finally saw me. I offered a konnichiwa but it sent him scrambling for his mother's arms. It seems even her child was unwilling to engage me in the simplest of exchanges.
Of course, I'm used to having kids ignore me. Hell, I had just come back from spending seven hours in an elementary school half-full of children who take please in ignoring me. The kicker here is what his mother told him as he fled from me. I'm paraphrasing and translating (paralating? transphasing?) here, but basically she said "Look at the blue-eyed man!"
This touches upon something Japanese people do to foreigners, and I've been slowly trying to write a humorous yet cathartic piece about these bizarre assumptions for quite some time. Basically, one of their moves is to describe non-Japanese people as "blue-eyed." Everyone reading this blog knows that the world is not dominated by folks with blue eyes, and I would hope that most of you know that my eyes are decidedly not blue either. So having a stranger whip out a dusty old stereotype to pigeonhole me to her infant son in my own apartment was something I took extreme offense to. Still, I didn't attack her - I just mumbled out loud (in Japanese) "My eyes aren't blue, actually." She made no acknowledgment at all.
Everything else she did to piss me off after that - stripping her kid down on our rug before taking him bare-assed across the apartment to the toilet, smacking him in the head when he tried to pick up a magazine - was pretty petty in comparison. I'm slowly getting used to this idea that disrobing babies and infants in front of others is somehow normal, although this was the first time a stranger did it in my home. And while I haven't really considered whether or not my kid deserves to be spanked at some point, and I recognize that her kid is her kid, I'm certainly never going to physically discipline DJ in public for trying to pick up a magazine. That's fucking cold.
So here's a few tips for anyone thinking about visiting my cozy Japanese apartment: Do treat me like a human being. Don't treat me like a theoretical "foreigner." Because if I'm paying the rent, you're the fucking "gaijin."
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I managed to home come early and noticed some extra shoes by the door. This isn't easy, as Mako keeps a half-dozen different pairs out for easy access, but even I could tell that she doesn't wear kid sizes anymore. I came inside and saw Mako talking to a woman I didn't know with a small child asleep on the couch. There was the barest of initial reaction to my presence: she threw out the standard Japanese tropes but neglected to offer me her name or anything actually substantive. All she really did was tell me that her kid was asleep and asked me if I could keep quiet. I went about my usual settling pattern - I put down my bag, took off my coat, etc. - but it wasn't until I stood in front of her and said my name out loud that she finally acknowledged me. Still, all I got was a name before she went back to chatting up Mako.
Since our guest was so intent on ignoring me, I went ahead and tried to ignore her. I started my usual after-work routine of flipping on the computer and catching up on Google Reader and my Twitter feeds. After about a half-hour of this, her kid finally started to show signs of life. At first, he turned towards his mother and Mako, but when they encouraged him to turn around, he finally saw me. I offered a konnichiwa but it sent him scrambling for his mother's arms. It seems even her child was unwilling to engage me in the simplest of exchanges.
Of course, I'm used to having kids ignore me. Hell, I had just come back from spending seven hours in an elementary school half-full of children who take please in ignoring me. The kicker here is what his mother told him as he fled from me. I'm paraphrasing and translating (paralating? transphasing?) here, but basically she said "Look at the blue-eyed man!"
This touches upon something Japanese people do to foreigners, and I've been slowly trying to write a humorous yet cathartic piece about these bizarre assumptions for quite some time. Basically, one of their moves is to describe non-Japanese people as "blue-eyed." Everyone reading this blog knows that the world is not dominated by folks with blue eyes, and I would hope that most of you know that my eyes are decidedly not blue either. So having a stranger whip out a dusty old stereotype to pigeonhole me to her infant son in my own apartment was something I took extreme offense to. Still, I didn't attack her - I just mumbled out loud (in Japanese) "My eyes aren't blue, actually." She made no acknowledgment at all.
Everything else she did to piss me off after that - stripping her kid down on our rug before taking him bare-assed across the apartment to the toilet, smacking him in the head when he tried to pick up a magazine - was pretty petty in comparison. I'm slowly getting used to this idea that disrobing babies and infants in front of others is somehow normal, although this was the first time a stranger did it in my home. And while I haven't really considered whether or not my kid deserves to be spanked at some point, and I recognize that her kid is her kid, I'm certainly never going to physically discipline DJ in public for trying to pick up a magazine. That's fucking cold.
So here's a few tips for anyone thinking about visiting my cozy Japanese apartment: Do treat me like a human being. Don't treat me like a theoretical "foreigner." Because if I'm paying the rent, you're the fucking "gaijin."
Labels: frustration, I hate people, Japan
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Thanks, Japan. I Needed That.
One of the best things about having a holiday in the middle of the week is it changes the dynamic of the other days around it. With Wednesday being off, Tuesday became Friday, and Monday kinda felt like Thursday. Of course, tomorrow is Thursday, but since I spent today resting, doesn't that make it into Monday?
Don't be silly. Thursday is always Thursday.
The worst thing about today was the fact that I'm sick. It started as a simple cough over the weekend, but by Monday evening I was sniffling and my voice was struggling. Yesterday was a challenge, to be sure, especially because I had another after-school class that made it a very long day of teaching. I must have sucked down at least three Vitamin C candies during the last hour of work. I feel better now, thanks to a full day of very little talking (and absolutely no shouting). Maybe the worst of it is behind me now...or maybe another day of shouting will bring it all back tomorrow.
Mako and I spent the morning on the sofa watching Prison Break and we are oh-so-close to the end of Season One. Indeed, we'd be watching the end right now if it weren't for her sudden desire to step on the brakes and slow down. Sure, there are other shows we can watch but after so many hours, how can she stand to wait any longer to find out who makes it and who doesn't? Now I'm going to spend all day tomorrow wondering about it. She told me to pop in Battlestar Galactica instead, but seeing as how I'm almost at the end of their Season One as well, I just want to wrap up one show at a time.
We had a terrific, curry-soaked lunch where I experienced something pretty crazy. As usual, I ordered a bit too much food and I had to help Mako finish hers at the same time, so towards the end of the meal I was really, really full. But the more I ate of my bacon & eggplant curry (with cheese) omurice, the hungrier I felt. If you've ever read The Phantom Tollbooth you might remember "subtraction stew." For the first time I can recall, I actually understood what that might feel like.
With Mako and I both filled to capacity we took it real easy when we got back home. Mako needed a straight-up nap, leaving me a few hours alone with a television and my PS3. I muscled my way through two more stages in Resistance 2 alone and then played a bit of LittleBigPlanet with Richard. I enjoyed the freedom of the afternoon immensely even if both games did their best to drive me a little nuts.
In Resistance 2 I found myself straining my voice just so I could complain aloud about the circumstances I found myself in: two boss battles where the game just wasn't throwing me any bones. The first was me versus a giant something-or-other, a moment that was initially really cool. I was on top of a tower littered with guns but there were no soldiers to be seen. It wasn't until I looked up that I saw...it, and that began the fight. Unfortunately, the designers made a baffling decision to not give me any visual hint that my bullets were, in fact, hurting this massive, crawling monster - the usual red reticule was not present - so it took several failures before I just looked to the Internet for answers. It turns out the answer is just shoot the damn thing until it falls down. I did that.
The second boss was even more bizarre in form and even more irritating due to its ability to kill me instantly if it touched me. It wasn't an "it" so much as it was a "they," a "swarm" of beasties massed together, super-charged with bolts of energy. The first time you see it the game tells you to run away, but doing that means it catches you and kills you. No, you have to walk backwards and shoot at it, somehow slowing it down even though a gun versus a swarm of smaller-than-a-bullet monsters doesn't sound like a winnable fight. Eventually you face off against the swarm in a giant cavern where you must use generators to trap them and kill them with a special weapon. Of course, all the generators look the same and are connected by identical looking corridors, so I kept dying while some voice shouted at me "Get to the first generator!" I asked, alone in my room, "Which one is the 'first' one, you dick?"
LittleBigPlanet is a great game that looks adorable even when it's smashing your little character between heavy objects and driving you nuts. Richard and I actually "finished" the last level today, although the magic of LBP is that the game has an ever-increasing number of user-created levels to play. Indeed, having run through the normal levels, the idea is that I should try and make one myself. I do have an idea or two, but I have the nagging feeling that it will take me as long as it did to complete the other levels just to finish one of my own. I'll let you know if I make any headway in that department though.
My Wednesday/Sunday holiday evening is drawing to a close. I'm keeping my fingers crossed over the next two days to make it through with my vocal cords intact. Candies, you're with me!
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Don't be silly. Thursday is always Thursday.
The worst thing about today was the fact that I'm sick. It started as a simple cough over the weekend, but by Monday evening I was sniffling and my voice was struggling. Yesterday was a challenge, to be sure, especially because I had another after-school class that made it a very long day of teaching. I must have sucked down at least three Vitamin C candies during the last hour of work. I feel better now, thanks to a full day of very little talking (and absolutely no shouting). Maybe the worst of it is behind me now...or maybe another day of shouting will bring it all back tomorrow.
Mako and I spent the morning on the sofa watching Prison Break and we are oh-so-close to the end of Season One. Indeed, we'd be watching the end right now if it weren't for her sudden desire to step on the brakes and slow down. Sure, there are other shows we can watch but after so many hours, how can she stand to wait any longer to find out who makes it and who doesn't? Now I'm going to spend all day tomorrow wondering about it. She told me to pop in Battlestar Galactica instead, but seeing as how I'm almost at the end of their Season One as well, I just want to wrap up one show at a time.
We had a terrific, curry-soaked lunch where I experienced something pretty crazy. As usual, I ordered a bit too much food and I had to help Mako finish hers at the same time, so towards the end of the meal I was really, really full. But the more I ate of my bacon & eggplant curry (with cheese) omurice, the hungrier I felt. If you've ever read The Phantom Tollbooth you might remember "subtraction stew." For the first time I can recall, I actually understood what that might feel like.
With Mako and I both filled to capacity we took it real easy when we got back home. Mako needed a straight-up nap, leaving me a few hours alone with a television and my PS3. I muscled my way through two more stages in Resistance 2 alone and then played a bit of LittleBigPlanet with Richard. I enjoyed the freedom of the afternoon immensely even if both games did their best to drive me a little nuts.
In Resistance 2 I found myself straining my voice just so I could complain aloud about the circumstances I found myself in: two boss battles where the game just wasn't throwing me any bones. The first was me versus a giant something-or-other, a moment that was initially really cool. I was on top of a tower littered with guns but there were no soldiers to be seen. It wasn't until I looked up that I saw...it, and that began the fight. Unfortunately, the designers made a baffling decision to not give me any visual hint that my bullets were, in fact, hurting this massive, crawling monster - the usual red reticule was not present - so it took several failures before I just looked to the Internet for answers. It turns out the answer is just shoot the damn thing until it falls down. I did that.
The second boss was even more bizarre in form and even more irritating due to its ability to kill me instantly if it touched me. It wasn't an "it" so much as it was a "they," a "swarm" of beasties massed together, super-charged with bolts of energy. The first time you see it the game tells you to run away, but doing that means it catches you and kills you. No, you have to walk backwards and shoot at it, somehow slowing it down even though a gun versus a swarm of smaller-than-a-bullet monsters doesn't sound like a winnable fight. Eventually you face off against the swarm in a giant cavern where you must use generators to trap them and kill them with a special weapon. Of course, all the generators look the same and are connected by identical looking corridors, so I kept dying while some voice shouted at me "Get to the first generator!" I asked, alone in my room, "Which one is the 'first' one, you dick?"
LittleBigPlanet is a great game that looks adorable even when it's smashing your little character between heavy objects and driving you nuts. Richard and I actually "finished" the last level today, although the magic of LBP is that the game has an ever-increasing number of user-created levels to play. Indeed, having run through the normal levels, the idea is that I should try and make one myself. I do have an idea or two, but I have the nagging feeling that it will take me as long as it did to complete the other levels just to finish one of my own. I'll let you know if I make any headway in that department though.
My Wednesday/Sunday holiday evening is drawing to a close. I'm keeping my fingers crossed over the next two days to make it through with my vocal cords intact. Candies, you're with me!
Labels: food, frustration, Little Big Planet, Prison Break, PS3, Resistance 2, teaching, television, video games
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
CHANGE: no I can't
I know you college types are just starting to get back to class but at the elementary school level we are up and running at full speed by now. While you knowledge-hungry elitists are just getting back from vacations, maybe shopping for textbooks or reviewing your latest syllabi (syllabuses?), these kids have long since returned to school and their all-too-brief winter break is already a distant memory. Of course, I say that as I sit in an empty classroom in the middle of a day when I have no classes to teach, so some teachers are busier than others. As English is surely the black sheep of subjects here in Japan, I will have a few more days of adjustment before anyone notices that I am, in fact, here to teach children as opposed to sit in the office and type quietly on my laptop.
I'm exaggerating, of course. Some schools had me start working with students on the very first day of classes back on January 9th. Other schools, such as where I am currently sitting, prefer to let the individual teachers sign up for English classes, thereby guaranteeing periods of extreme idleness at the start and end of the semester while everyone tries to squeeze their lessons with me into the middle. So while I had no classes last Tuesday or today, I have five next Tuesday and again the Tuesday after that. It's frustrating, but then I remind myself that they don't do it out of spite, they do it because they simply don't care. I'll take negligence over hate any day.
It is in the midst of this odd period that I filed my request for an extension of my contract. The hiring and placement process for the JET Programme is so incredibly long that my Board of Ed needs to know almost six months beforehand whether or not I intend to renew my contract or not. The renewal forms are distributed three months prior to that in case people are hoping for transfers which take even longer. Hence the first steps in renewing or ending a JET Programme-brokered contract take place in October, only two months after newbies arrive and only one month after classes start.
As stressed and anxious as I was in my first year, I knew this job and life in Japan was what I wanted so I didn't hesitate in re-signing. This year I actually had time to reflect on how my job has changed (nearly entirely for the better) and think about what I want to achieve next year. Factor in a forthcoming baby and the craptastic job market both here and in the States (two big reasons not to start passing out resumes this summer) and I felt pretty comfortable submitting my request yesterday.
If I have one major reservation it is not knowing what might change in April when the new school year starts. Last year it brought about some serious shifts of personnel, including new principals at every single school that I visit. Later that month it was decided that I would stop going to the tiny mountain school in favor of increased classes at other, slightly larger schools. Again, looking back I would say that almost everything that changed was for the better, but I cannot reasonably assume that I will be as fortunate this April.
There's also the unknown element of a new ALT coming to Hana Town. The JET who currently works in the middle schools around here (and that one tiny mountain school) is at the end of his tenure. While they could still potentially offer him some kind of new contract, odds are he will move on and they will request a new ALT. This will obviously have implications for my job, but how drastic they are I couldn't possibly say. Will my current rotation of schools remain the same? Will I be asked to help out at the middle school level, or will he be asked to cover more elementary school lessons? Will he flake out and quit after six weeks, tarnishing my reputation in the process?
Even bigger, will there be a new ALT coming at all? As the number of students in Hana Town continues to dwindle, there might be drastic changes on the horizon. I just learned today that this school, the largest one I teach at, will have half the usual number of incoming first graders in April. Other schools are similarly expecting smaller student bodies: one school is graduating eighteen sixth graders but is getting only eight new students. Another is graduating ten and is unlikely to welcome more than two or three new children, maybe less. Someone might just decide to spread my schedule thin across more schools and forgo the expense of hiring, importing, and then paying the monthly salary of a whole new foreigner.
But that's all speculative and unfounded guesswork. The bottom line is that I came here after years of work and they seem to like me, so I'm staying. Other potential employment issues may come up in 2009, but I hope to remain in Hana Town through at least July of next year with addition renewals possible. At the very least, I can take great comfort in knowing that by the time I wake up tomorrow, this asshole will be out of a job. Here's hoping his replacement doesn't flake out and quit after six weeks either.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I'm exaggerating, of course. Some schools had me start working with students on the very first day of classes back on January 9th. Other schools, such as where I am currently sitting, prefer to let the individual teachers sign up for English classes, thereby guaranteeing periods of extreme idleness at the start and end of the semester while everyone tries to squeeze their lessons with me into the middle. So while I had no classes last Tuesday or today, I have five next Tuesday and again the Tuesday after that. It's frustrating, but then I remind myself that they don't do it out of spite, they do it because they simply don't care. I'll take negligence over hate any day.
It is in the midst of this odd period that I filed my request for an extension of my contract. The hiring and placement process for the JET Programme is so incredibly long that my Board of Ed needs to know almost six months beforehand whether or not I intend to renew my contract or not. The renewal forms are distributed three months prior to that in case people are hoping for transfers which take even longer. Hence the first steps in renewing or ending a JET Programme-brokered contract take place in October, only two months after newbies arrive and only one month after classes start.
As stressed and anxious as I was in my first year, I knew this job and life in Japan was what I wanted so I didn't hesitate in re-signing. This year I actually had time to reflect on how my job has changed (nearly entirely for the better) and think about what I want to achieve next year. Factor in a forthcoming baby and the craptastic job market both here and in the States (two big reasons not to start passing out resumes this summer) and I felt pretty comfortable submitting my request yesterday.
If I have one major reservation it is not knowing what might change in April when the new school year starts. Last year it brought about some serious shifts of personnel, including new principals at every single school that I visit. Later that month it was decided that I would stop going to the tiny mountain school in favor of increased classes at other, slightly larger schools. Again, looking back I would say that almost everything that changed was for the better, but I cannot reasonably assume that I will be as fortunate this April.
There's also the unknown element of a new ALT coming to Hana Town. The JET who currently works in the middle schools around here (and that one tiny mountain school) is at the end of his tenure. While they could still potentially offer him some kind of new contract, odds are he will move on and they will request a new ALT. This will obviously have implications for my job, but how drastic they are I couldn't possibly say. Will my current rotation of schools remain the same? Will I be asked to help out at the middle school level, or will he be asked to cover more elementary school lessons? Will he flake out and quit after six weeks, tarnishing my reputation in the process?
Even bigger, will there be a new ALT coming at all? As the number of students in Hana Town continues to dwindle, there might be drastic changes on the horizon. I just learned today that this school, the largest one I teach at, will have half the usual number of incoming first graders in April. Other schools are similarly expecting smaller student bodies: one school is graduating eighteen sixth graders but is getting only eight new students. Another is graduating ten and is unlikely to welcome more than two or three new children, maybe less. Someone might just decide to spread my schedule thin across more schools and forgo the expense of hiring, importing, and then paying the monthly salary of a whole new foreigner.
But that's all speculative and unfounded guesswork. The bottom line is that I came here after years of work and they seem to like me, so I'm staying. Other potential employment issues may come up in 2009, but I hope to remain in Hana Town through at least July of next year with addition renewals possible. At the very least, I can take great comfort in knowing that by the time I wake up tomorrow, this asshole will be out of a job. Here's hoping his replacement doesn't flake out and quit after six weeks either.
Labels: frustration, Japan, JET, job hunting, politics, predicting the future, teaching
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The Opposite of Stockholm Syndrome
After months and months of waiting (years really, if you go back to Casino Royale which opened in November 2006) the new James Bond movie has finally opened in Japan! I spent all week checking showtimes in anticipation of a trip to the movies this weekend. Even if the buzz ranged from "decent follow-up" to "confusing mess," as a long-time fan of Bond I was eager to sit down and see this movie at the earliest possible opportunity.
Too bad we didn't go to the movies today.
Things got off to an awkward, if pleasant start. I was taking it easy this morning, talking to my sister on Skype when Mako expressed there was an urgency to get ready and head outside. She had mentioned an interest in heading to Nakayama Temple for the sake of the baby. What's more, today was inu no hi (literally Day of the Dog) which is part of the whole Chinese zodiac time management thing. It seems that dogs are associated with an easy birth, although having never seen a dog reproduce I don't know why.
Indeed, the whole "let's go honor this tradition for the unborn baby" thing is a little weird for me. Normally I would not say Mako is particularly superstitious or prone to fantasy. She doesn't care for horoscopes and she ignores the many, many outlets for fortune telling in this country. It's one of the big reasons I love her, because I'd have a hard time taking anybody seriously who gave those ridiculous things more than a passing glance. But as a I noted earlier this week, Mako is scared about having a baby and as we can all understand, when you get scared you fall back on tradition and superstition to ease your fears.
Even if I'm not a "believer" I can go with the flow on these kinds of customs. Going to visit a nearby temple and making a silent, private request to an unseen spirit is harmless. It's not like she wants to engage in some kind of risky behavior or forgo a doctor's advice. And while I am not all that keen on religious customs, being less than confident in my belief that someone's upstairs listening, a visit to a temple is so quick there's little to object to. Not to mention the line between "religious observance" and "cultural tradition" in Japan is so blurry they can never be completely separated.
Getting back to the story, I was OK with going to Nakayama today but I wasn't aware that we were under pressure to get there by a certain time. It was then that Mako very casually mentioned that her parents were coming to pick us up and take us there. This I did not know and I was not ready to hear it. It's not that I didn't have enough time to wash before they arrived, but I was planning on calling my dad this morning to wish him a happy birthday. With a sudden rush to get out the door, I didn't have any time to even leave him a message. Hopefully my sister told him I was thinking of him and I'll reach him tomorrow. I did mail a present but I know it hasn't arrived yet.
I digress again...we drove to the nearby temple and aside from the thickness of traffic (it would have been much faster to just take the train) the visit was stress-free. In fact, it was completely free - the temple charged no admission and Mako's mother paid for the only keepsake we took away. Mako also declined to participate in whatever these folks were lining up for. She said it cost more than $100 as well, so I agreed with her decision. The whole visit took less than half an hour and we all had lunch afterwards. The weather was nice and things seemed perfectly normal.
We then started driving and I didn't know where we were going. Mako's dad made some kind of comments about Kyoto and Hana Town*, the rural area where I work, but otherwise there was no clear goal. We ended up going through the city we live in and headed directly towards Hana. I pointed out a couple things along the way, still not clear on where we were going. We passed through the town and kept going. Initially I just tried to relax and enjoy the "scenery," even though the Osaka/Hyogo/Kyoto border area is pretty barren. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.
I woke up thirty or forty minutes later and we were somewhere in Kyoto near Kameoka. Mako's dad made a couple U-turns, a clear sign he didn't know where he was going. Suddenly he stopped and got out of the car - alone. We waited while he walked around a quiet building that appeared shuttered for the season. He came back and said "Yeah, it's closed" and then we left. I still don't know what that building meant or what he thought he would find. All I knew was that we had spent an hour and a half in the car and gotten absolutely nowhere. I felt like I was a hostage, even if my captors were super nice people.
On our winding way back through Osaka, Mako's dad spotted a sign pointing towards a mountain. This mountain happens to be near Hana Town so I was a little curious to see what the sign was pointing towards. As we drove up and up, it became apparent that the sign was simply indicating that yes, this was a mountain. There wasn't anything to see, we simply drove around tight curve after tight curve, surrounded by trees. Eventually, he just turned around and we ended up on the same road as before, only we were a few miles further from home.
As we passed through Ikeda I knew that our apartment was getting close. I asked where we were going and he said we were going back to their house which was probably an hour away. At that point I didn't know what else to do. I simply said I "didn't feel well" and asked if I could go home. It wasn't a lie as much as it was an exaggeration (thank you, Spock). After all, I had been trapped in a car for almost four hours and I really wanted to get out. He understood and diverted towards our place. Much to my surprise, Mako also decided to come home with me, either out of solidarity or out of genuine agreement.
It's not that I dislike my in-laws at all because they are genuinely friendly people who have treated me and my family with extreme kindness. I have no problems spending time with them from time to time, even if I occasionally feel trapped in their house with nothing to do. What drove me (literally) nuts this afternoon was the fact that we did nothing and it took the entire afternoon. I couldn't bear to spend the rest of my evening in the same state of waiting to go home - I had to just go home.
I hope that they didn't perceive my behavior as rude and I also hope that Mako's dad doesn't feel like he did something wrong. I mean, I think he was wrong but I don't want him to feel bad about it. Ideally, I just want to talk to Mako and her family about spending time together and find a middle ground where we meet and do things rather than meet and do nothing. I certainly need all the support I can get in this country so I'm not about to burn any bridges, especially when it comes to family.
* I know it's been a while since I used this pseudonym for the area where I work, so just a reminder: it's not really called Hana Town.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Too bad we didn't go to the movies today.
Things got off to an awkward, if pleasant start. I was taking it easy this morning, talking to my sister on Skype when Mako expressed there was an urgency to get ready and head outside. She had mentioned an interest in heading to Nakayama Temple for the sake of the baby. What's more, today was inu no hi (literally Day of the Dog) which is part of the whole Chinese zodiac time management thing. It seems that dogs are associated with an easy birth, although having never seen a dog reproduce I don't know why.
Indeed, the whole "let's go honor this tradition for the unborn baby" thing is a little weird for me. Normally I would not say Mako is particularly superstitious or prone to fantasy. She doesn't care for horoscopes and she ignores the many, many outlets for fortune telling in this country. It's one of the big reasons I love her, because I'd have a hard time taking anybody seriously who gave those ridiculous things more than a passing glance. But as a I noted earlier this week, Mako is scared about having a baby and as we can all understand, when you get scared you fall back on tradition and superstition to ease your fears.
Even if I'm not a "believer" I can go with the flow on these kinds of customs. Going to visit a nearby temple and making a silent, private request to an unseen spirit is harmless. It's not like she wants to engage in some kind of risky behavior or forgo a doctor's advice. And while I am not all that keen on religious customs, being less than confident in my belief that someone's upstairs listening, a visit to a temple is so quick there's little to object to. Not to mention the line between "religious observance" and "cultural tradition" in Japan is so blurry they can never be completely separated.
Getting back to the story, I was OK with going to Nakayama today but I wasn't aware that we were under pressure to get there by a certain time. It was then that Mako very casually mentioned that her parents were coming to pick us up and take us there. This I did not know and I was not ready to hear it. It's not that I didn't have enough time to wash before they arrived, but I was planning on calling my dad this morning to wish him a happy birthday. With a sudden rush to get out the door, I didn't have any time to even leave him a message. Hopefully my sister told him I was thinking of him and I'll reach him tomorrow. I did mail a present but I know it hasn't arrived yet.
I digress again...we drove to the nearby temple and aside from the thickness of traffic (it would have been much faster to just take the train) the visit was stress-free. In fact, it was completely free - the temple charged no admission and Mako's mother paid for the only keepsake we took away. Mako also declined to participate in whatever these folks were lining up for. She said it cost more than $100 as well, so I agreed with her decision. The whole visit took less than half an hour and we all had lunch afterwards. The weather was nice and things seemed perfectly normal.
We then started driving and I didn't know where we were going. Mako's dad made some kind of comments about Kyoto and Hana Town*, the rural area where I work, but otherwise there was no clear goal. We ended up going through the city we live in and headed directly towards Hana. I pointed out a couple things along the way, still not clear on where we were going. We passed through the town and kept going. Initially I just tried to relax and enjoy the "scenery," even though the Osaka/Hyogo/Kyoto border area is pretty barren. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.
I woke up thirty or forty minutes later and we were somewhere in Kyoto near Kameoka. Mako's dad made a couple U-turns, a clear sign he didn't know where he was going. Suddenly he stopped and got out of the car - alone. We waited while he walked around a quiet building that appeared shuttered for the season. He came back and said "Yeah, it's closed" and then we left. I still don't know what that building meant or what he thought he would find. All I knew was that we had spent an hour and a half in the car and gotten absolutely nowhere. I felt like I was a hostage, even if my captors were super nice people.
On our winding way back through Osaka, Mako's dad spotted a sign pointing towards a mountain. This mountain happens to be near Hana Town so I was a little curious to see what the sign was pointing towards. As we drove up and up, it became apparent that the sign was simply indicating that yes, this was a mountain. There wasn't anything to see, we simply drove around tight curve after tight curve, surrounded by trees. Eventually, he just turned around and we ended up on the same road as before, only we were a few miles further from home.
As we passed through Ikeda I knew that our apartment was getting close. I asked where we were going and he said we were going back to their house which was probably an hour away. At that point I didn't know what else to do. I simply said I "didn't feel well" and asked if I could go home. It wasn't a lie as much as it was an exaggeration (thank you, Spock). After all, I had been trapped in a car for almost four hours and I really wanted to get out. He understood and diverted towards our place. Much to my surprise, Mako also decided to come home with me, either out of solidarity or out of genuine agreement.
It's not that I dislike my in-laws at all because they are genuinely friendly people who have treated me and my family with extreme kindness. I have no problems spending time with them from time to time, even if I occasionally feel trapped in their house with nothing to do. What drove me (literally) nuts this afternoon was the fact that we did nothing and it took the entire afternoon. I couldn't bear to spend the rest of my evening in the same state of waiting to go home - I had to just go home.
I hope that they didn't perceive my behavior as rude and I also hope that Mako's dad doesn't feel like he did something wrong. I mean, I think he was wrong but I don't want him to feel bad about it. Ideally, I just want to talk to Mako and her family about spending time together and find a middle ground where we meet and do things rather than meet and do nothing. I certainly need all the support I can get in this country so I'm not about to burn any bridges, especially when it comes to family.
* I know it's been a while since I used this pseudonym for the area where I work, so just a reminder: it's not really called Hana Town.
Labels: family, frustration, James Bond, Japan, movies
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Thursday, May 06, 2004
F.A.A. Official Destroyed Evidence
OK, this ain't a Zapruder Film or anything, but a supervisor at the F.A.A. took it upon himself to destroy an audio recording of statements made by air traffic controllers on September 11th, 2001. Then he didn't tell anyone about the tape until yesterday, apparently. I'm no conspiracy seeker but stories like these always make me wonder.
(Remember, NY Times links expire in a week, and you must register to read the whole story)
つづく...(Click here to read more)
(Remember, NY Times links expire in a week, and you must register to read the whole story)
Labels: frustration
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Still Just A Theory, I Guess
From the "Did You Know?" department: On this day in 1925, John Scopes was arrested in Dayton, Tennesee for teaching schoolchildren the theory of evolution. The resulting "Monkey Trial" captivated the nation as is still considered by many to be the "trial of the century."
Seventy-nine years later, however, the issue is hardly settled. As we speak, the fate of evolution is in jeopardy thanks to pseudoscience. Scientists are still forced to fend off absurdities such as "Creation Science" and "Intelligent Design."
I wonder if this has anything to do with the decline of interest in the sciences in the United States? Do the Chinese have to put up with this?
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Seventy-nine years later, however, the issue is hardly settled. As we speak, the fate of evolution is in jeopardy thanks to pseudoscience. Scientists are still forced to fend off absurdities such as "Creation Science" and "Intelligent Design."
I wonder if this has anything to do with the decline of interest in the sciences in the United States? Do the Chinese have to put up with this?
Labels: frustration
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, May 03, 2004
Get Lost!
I'd like to give a special "fuck you" to the "The Great Five Boro Bike Tour" for strangling the roadways yesterday and stranding me in the Bronx. All I wanted to do was get to my little cousin's communion but, as you can see on this map, I had nowhere to go. Isn't there enough beauty in Upstate New York to go biking in?
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Labels: frustration
つづく...(Click here to read more)
