Today, Chubu (Central Japan) received its biggest snowfall in 60 years, which would mean folks from this area haven't seen snow like this since the end of WWII. By the time the party ended, there was roughly 8 in. (20 cm.) of snow on the streets, a devastating amount for Nagoya.
I woke up, looked out the window, and thought I was back home in Chicago. Until today, I'd only seen snowfall a grand total of three times out of my 3.75 years in Nagoya, and this was the second time in one week. I just KNEW school would be cancelled. The roads and trains virtually come to a standstill during heavy rain even, so given this amount of snow I heavily anticipated a day off from work. Plus, I remembered two winters before, when all the students were sent home from my (then) junior high school during a "blizzard," and it hadn't snowed half as much as this.
So I rose and showered as usual, taking my time, confident there would be school cancellations. I flipped on the television to check the weather report, though I couldn't decipher the characters scrolling across the screen. I phoned up one of my fellow teacher buddies, John, and asked him what he knew. To my chagrin...
There was school. Doh! In disbelief, I called my company to verify. No answer. I called my school, and was greeted by the secretary. He too, said there would be class as usual. Curses! On Mondays of all days, when I have to walk 15 minutes from the local train station to get to school, I definitely did not want to deal with this snow business. I reluctantly got ready and made my way to the train station, trying not to slip--there was even ice too!
The trains were a complete mess. The marquees that ususally display the punctual arrivals of the trains were blank, indicating that it was going to be a long morning journey. As it continued to snow, I waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually a train came trudging along. What was a 10 minute ride became a 30 minute ride. And after a beast of a walk through country ice and snow, I arrived right during the first recess to catch 5th graders gleefully tossing snow chunks at each other at the front of the school entrance. Barely noticing my arrival, I caught the attention of one boy, Takuya, who looked up and emphatically uttered "Snow!" Yes, "Snow," I replied. I was just under 3 hours late, and not too ecstatic.
The assistant vice-principal, with his trademark sly grin, greeted me, saying "You're a little late, huh?"
"Um, you think?" I mentally quipped.
"Well, because you're late, your 3rd period class is cancelled, so you'll just have your 4th and 5th period classes today," he informed me.
"Fine. Whatever," I thought, while nodding in confirmation.
That was okay, actually, because I needed the extra period to defrost and get some green tea in my system. The rest of the day was pretty normal; I taught the remainder of my schedule as usual, though I left school a few minutes early to give myself time to slip and slide back through those rural, icy backstreets to the train station. What a day.
Dec 19, 2005
Dec 10, 2005
"SEAN"
I met Sean on the bus on the way home from school. I boarded and took my usual middle seat at the back (No diss to Rosa Parks, but that's the only seat on the compact bus that won't disfigure my long legs). As I was taking my seat, I immediately noticed a hip-hoppish-looking young Japanese guy with a cap, shades, shamrock-green Yankees Starter jacket, and a long braided ponytail. I didn't pay him much mind, mentally brushing him off as another J-hopper MTV Japan emulation.
It wasn't until I popped in my iPod earbuds and fired up Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground did I hear a voice from my left. It was the hip-hoppish-looking guy. Initially, I think I gave him a "Wha?" before removing my phones. Naturally, I spoke to him in Japanese:
Him: "Erykah?"
Me: "Yeah. You have it?"
Him: (smiling) "Yeah."
And that was the beginning of our conversation. He introduced himself as "Sean," a very non-Japanese name which caused me to raise a suspicious eyebrow, to which he then revealed his real name as Shun (pr. shoon). He used the alias Sean to sound more Western. It turned out Shun liked soul music and had traveled to San Francisco where he'd made friends with a musician, a "Black man." Shun could also speak a little English, though we spoke mostly in Japanese. We began discussing music. He told me was in a band and played percussion, namely African drums. He commented several times that my Japanese was good, a compliment I appreciated though didn't overindulge in, as it seems almost any foreigner who speaks any level of Japanese is eligible for such praise from a Japanese person. Shun reeked of alcohol.
To my surprise, I also discovered that Shun, a construction welder by day, was on his way to Hawaii for 4 days to run in a marathon. Wow. At that point, I noticed his small luggage case. We continued to talk until we arrived at the train station, then rode the same train and taled some more. He told me he frequented Gary's, a well-known club that features live soul music by Black musicians. He invited me to come see him play at some club in Nagoya I'd never heard of. I'd mentioned the musical instruments in capoeira, and invited him to one my practices. Shun asked if Iwent out often, to which I responded "Not often." He also asked me if I liked to go out drinking--I guess that explained his pungent aroma. I didn't hold it against him; he seemed like a nice guy. We exchanged cell numbers and pleasant farewells--his in English, mine in Japanese--before I got off at my stop.
The biggest surprise of my encounter with Shun, was the fact that he spoke to me first. Admittedly, I tend not to bother with attempts to socialize with Japanese strangers, as Japanese people tend to be very socially reserved, especially toward stangers, especially toward foreigners. Only in a rare few instances have any Japanese strangers struck up conversation with me. I suppose "Sean" had gained some confidence from going abroad and befriending Black folks. Kudos for his bravery. Perhaps we'll meet again in the new year.
It wasn't until I popped in my iPod earbuds and fired up Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground did I hear a voice from my left. It was the hip-hoppish-looking guy. Initially, I think I gave him a "Wha?" before removing my phones. Naturally, I spoke to him in Japanese:
Him: "Erykah?"
Me: "Yeah. You have it?"
Him: (smiling) "Yeah."
And that was the beginning of our conversation. He introduced himself as "Sean," a very non-Japanese name which caused me to raise a suspicious eyebrow, to which he then revealed his real name as Shun (pr. shoon). He used the alias Sean to sound more Western. It turned out Shun liked soul music and had traveled to San Francisco where he'd made friends with a musician, a "Black man." Shun could also speak a little English, though we spoke mostly in Japanese. We began discussing music. He told me was in a band and played percussion, namely African drums. He commented several times that my Japanese was good, a compliment I appreciated though didn't overindulge in, as it seems almost any foreigner who speaks any level of Japanese is eligible for such praise from a Japanese person. Shun reeked of alcohol.
To my surprise, I also discovered that Shun, a construction welder by day, was on his way to Hawaii for 4 days to run in a marathon. Wow. At that point, I noticed his small luggage case. We continued to talk until we arrived at the train station, then rode the same train and taled some more. He told me he frequented Gary's, a well-known club that features live soul music by Black musicians. He invited me to come see him play at some club in Nagoya I'd never heard of. I'd mentioned the musical instruments in capoeira, and invited him to one my practices. Shun asked if Iwent out often, to which I responded "Not often." He also asked me if I liked to go out drinking--I guess that explained his pungent aroma. I didn't hold it against him; he seemed like a nice guy. We exchanged cell numbers and pleasant farewells--his in English, mine in Japanese--before I got off at my stop.
The biggest surprise of my encounter with Shun, was the fact that he spoke to me first. Admittedly, I tend not to bother with attempts to socialize with Japanese strangers, as Japanese people tend to be very socially reserved, especially toward stangers, especially toward foreigners. Only in a rare few instances have any Japanese strangers struck up conversation with me. I suppose "Sean" had gained some confidence from going abroad and befriending Black folks. Kudos for his bravery. Perhaps we'll meet again in the new year.
Sep 18, 2005
I'M BACK(?)
I think this year's summer season slowed down blog production. It's been over 4 months since I dropped any science on y'all, but I've noticed some of my peers' blogs haven't seen daylight since July (I won't mention any names *COUGH* black bacchus *COUGH* brain droppings *COUGH* Ahem!)--so I'm not the only one!
Ahh, laziness enjoys company. =)
Actually, I'd been mulling over whether I should continue this blog thing in earnest, but I received inquiries from 2 out of my 3 readers. Majority rules, I couldn't ignore a 66.6% public demand any longer. The people have spoken.
There's been a bunch of activity in the last 4, so allow me to, once again, give you the highlights:
• Been busy at my 3 elementary schools in the new town, working for the new company. Haven't had any issues with the company. School life is cool: I'm fairly popular amongst the students, but I find I command more respect from students and teachers alike since I pretty much dress up everyday and present myself as less of a buddy to kids, and more of a teacher figure. Plus, I use a lot more Japanese than before, so that commands plenty of respect as well. I like being liked. I like being respected. Respect is good. But in the current context, I feel more comfortable being respected than loved. Well, probably in any context, for that matter.
• Endured a long, hot, nasty Japanese summer, which is slowly but steadily winding down (finally). This year was excessively hot and muggy, so I was elated to vacate the main island and hit sunny L.A. for a couple weeks. Speaking of which:
• Attended my cousin's wedding on a ranch in the canyons of Malibu. Very nice event. Almost the whole family came out, so it was more like a wedding/family reunion. Was glad to see all my folks and L.A. friends who I hadn't seen in 5-8 years. Had a really cool, chilled out time. I enjoyed U.S. prices immensely: did a *little bit* of shopping at one of the super outlets, and finally got a desperately-needed wristwatch for about $60. And $3 chicken burritos off the truck in the Mexican hood near downtown were the biz-omb. Also had a couple Japanese encounters while in So. Cali.: Encounter 1: went with my college friend, Mai, to see 1990's hit rapper Ahmad Jones's "HipRock Soul" band http://www.4thavenuejones.com , which were highly dope by the way. Mai was friends with Ahmad and 'em, so I met everyone in the band, including their half-Japanese guitarist Timmy Shakes. Mai told him that I live in Japan, and we had a cool little convo about that. He asked me if I spoke Japanese. I said yes. I asked him. He said no. Laughing, he was like "Teach me Japanese!" The irony of that was classic. Dude rocked OUT, by the way. I told him they should tour Japan, so Tim could inspire some soul in these young Japanese artists. Encounter 2: My cousin Ed took me to Century City to see Buju Banton. After the show, they had a female Japanese reggae dancer. The emcee was like "She's the #1 reggae dancer in Japan.." I was wondering if she was really Japanese, or American-born, so I decided to try to approach her and find out. I caught up to her outside the front of the club, and started speaking to her in Japanese. The conversation went like this:
Me: (tapping shoulder) "Excuse me.....Are you Japanese?"
Her: (turns head, stunned look on face) "Ye....Yes!"
"Oh really, where are you from?"
(sustained stunned look) "I'm from from Yokohama."
"Oh yeah? I live in Nagoya."
(sustained stunned look) (In broken English)"Now.....vacation!"
"How long are you here for?
"I go home the day after tomorrow."
"Really? Me t-...."
The conversation ended abruptly as her friends snatched her away, off to their next exploit. I can only imagine the thoughts flying through her head as to why an African-American man was speaking to her in Japanese outside of a club in So. Californina. The look on her face was classic, nonetheless.
Overall, I pretty much did everything I wanted to do in L.A., except play Capoeira. I called the number of the teacher that I'd found on the net, but it turned out to be a fax number. Doh! By the way, did I mention I met a preggy Jennifer Garner on the second leg of my flight to L.A. She sat in the seat in front of me, and flashed a smile at me as she came back to her seat from the toilet. She's actually pretty in person, too. Anyway, not to sound like a groupie, I'll end on that note. No, I didn't ask for an autograph.
• Witnessed my first Japanese pickpocket. I was kickin' it with my Nagoya homie DJ Black (Richard) one night, deejaying music on the corner in the downtown Sakae district. Two youngish hip-hoppy Japanese guys come up to us tryng to slap hands, speaking broken English talkin 'bout: "I-I....D..J.....Boogie!" He seemed drunk. He and his silent buddy sat nearby and listened to us play. Shorlty after Richard claimed he spotted that Boogie guy pluck some money out of an unsuspecting colleg-aged girl's purse, while she was carelessly running her mouth on her cell, ￥8000 (about US $80). To make a long one a short, Richard, trying to be a vigilant semaritan, confronted the guy about stealing the girls' money, but the guy vehemently denied, all the while pulling up his shirt and rabbit-earing his pockets to demonstrate his innocence. He was clearly guilty. Meanwhile, the victim, her friend and various bystanders (all Japanese) acknowledged the girls' money had been stolen, but none readily accepted that the culprit was indeed guilty, merely because he denied it. Everyone stood around confused like "He said he didn't take it, so maybe he didn't." Richard grew furious with Boogie's blatant lying and strip-searched him in some nearby bushes. After a while, we kept looking around the crime scene and even found crumpled bills Boogie had slyly jettisoned to the ground once he realized he's been caught. Even after discovering evidence, the onlookers still didn't seem very fazed. In fact, the victim and her friend didn't even want the money back, or police involvement, because it would "cause too much trouble." They were willing to let the culprit stand in plain sight and walk away with free money. I was dumbfounded by the level of complacency and ignorance I witnessed. I considered that yet another demerit to the overly-passiveness of Japanese culture.
• One other thing: I started recording new material for a new a mixtape collab with DJ Katalist from BC, Canada. Straight HEAT. IMHOTEP MetaMixtape
Ahh, laziness enjoys company. =)
Actually, I'd been mulling over whether I should continue this blog thing in earnest, but I received inquiries from 2 out of my 3 readers. Majority rules, I couldn't ignore a 66.6% public demand any longer. The people have spoken.
There's been a bunch of activity in the last 4, so allow me to, once again, give you the highlights:
• Been busy at my 3 elementary schools in the new town, working for the new company. Haven't had any issues with the company. School life is cool: I'm fairly popular amongst the students, but I find I command more respect from students and teachers alike since I pretty much dress up everyday and present myself as less of a buddy to kids, and more of a teacher figure. Plus, I use a lot more Japanese than before, so that commands plenty of respect as well. I like being liked. I like being respected. Respect is good. But in the current context, I feel more comfortable being respected than loved. Well, probably in any context, for that matter.
• Endured a long, hot, nasty Japanese summer, which is slowly but steadily winding down (finally). This year was excessively hot and muggy, so I was elated to vacate the main island and hit sunny L.A. for a couple weeks. Speaking of which:
• Attended my cousin's wedding on a ranch in the canyons of Malibu. Very nice event. Almost the whole family came out, so it was more like a wedding/family reunion. Was glad to see all my folks and L.A. friends who I hadn't seen in 5-8 years. Had a really cool, chilled out time. I enjoyed U.S. prices immensely: did a *little bit* of shopping at one of the super outlets, and finally got a desperately-needed wristwatch for about $60. And $3 chicken burritos off the truck in the Mexican hood near downtown were the biz-omb. Also had a couple Japanese encounters while in So. Cali.: Encounter 1: went with my college friend, Mai, to see 1990's hit rapper Ahmad Jones's "HipRock Soul" band http://www.4thavenuejones.com , which were highly dope by the way. Mai was friends with Ahmad and 'em, so I met everyone in the band, including their half-Japanese guitarist Timmy Shakes. Mai told him that I live in Japan, and we had a cool little convo about that. He asked me if I spoke Japanese. I said yes. I asked him. He said no. Laughing, he was like "Teach me Japanese!" The irony of that was classic. Dude rocked OUT, by the way. I told him they should tour Japan, so Tim could inspire some soul in these young Japanese artists. Encounter 2: My cousin Ed took me to Century City to see Buju Banton. After the show, they had a female Japanese reggae dancer. The emcee was like "She's the #1 reggae dancer in Japan.." I was wondering if she was really Japanese, or American-born, so I decided to try to approach her and find out. I caught up to her outside the front of the club, and started speaking to her in Japanese. The conversation went like this:
Me: (tapping shoulder) "Excuse me.....Are you Japanese?"
Her: (turns head, stunned look on face) "Ye....Yes!"
"Oh really, where are you from?"
(sustained stunned look) "I'm from from Yokohama."
"Oh yeah? I live in Nagoya."
(sustained stunned look) (In broken English)"Now.....vacation!"
"How long are you here for?
"I go home the day after tomorrow."
"Really? Me t-...."
The conversation ended abruptly as her friends snatched her away, off to their next exploit. I can only imagine the thoughts flying through her head as to why an African-American man was speaking to her in Japanese outside of a club in So. Californina. The look on her face was classic, nonetheless.
Overall, I pretty much did everything I wanted to do in L.A., except play Capoeira. I called the number of the teacher that I'd found on the net, but it turned out to be a fax number. Doh! By the way, did I mention I met a preggy Jennifer Garner on the second leg of my flight to L.A. She sat in the seat in front of me, and flashed a smile at me as she came back to her seat from the toilet. She's actually pretty in person, too. Anyway, not to sound like a groupie, I'll end on that note. No, I didn't ask for an autograph.
• Witnessed my first Japanese pickpocket. I was kickin' it with my Nagoya homie DJ Black (Richard) one night, deejaying music on the corner in the downtown Sakae district. Two youngish hip-hoppy Japanese guys come up to us tryng to slap hands, speaking broken English talkin 'bout: "I-I....D..J.....Boogie!" He seemed drunk. He and his silent buddy sat nearby and listened to us play. Shorlty after Richard claimed he spotted that Boogie guy pluck some money out of an unsuspecting colleg-aged girl's purse, while she was carelessly running her mouth on her cell, ￥8000 (about US $80). To make a long one a short, Richard, trying to be a vigilant semaritan, confronted the guy about stealing the girls' money, but the guy vehemently denied, all the while pulling up his shirt and rabbit-earing his pockets to demonstrate his innocence. He was clearly guilty. Meanwhile, the victim, her friend and various bystanders (all Japanese) acknowledged the girls' money had been stolen, but none readily accepted that the culprit was indeed guilty, merely because he denied it. Everyone stood around confused like "He said he didn't take it, so maybe he didn't." Richard grew furious with Boogie's blatant lying and strip-searched him in some nearby bushes. After a while, we kept looking around the crime scene and even found crumpled bills Boogie had slyly jettisoned to the ground once he realized he's been caught. Even after discovering evidence, the onlookers still didn't seem very fazed. In fact, the victim and her friend didn't even want the money back, or police involvement, because it would "cause too much trouble." They were willing to let the culprit stand in plain sight and walk away with free money. I was dumbfounded by the level of complacency and ignorance I witnessed. I considered that yet another demerit to the overly-passiveness of Japanese culture.
• One other thing: I started recording new material for a new a mixtape collab with DJ Katalist from BC, Canada. Straight HEAT. IMHOTEP MetaMixtape
May 4, 2005
CINCO DE MAYO QUICKIE UPDATES
Dear loyal reader: I'm not dead. And the date is 05/05/05 on the 5th day of the week (Thu). How rare is that?
It's been a busy spring so far, with a lot of things happening/happened. Let's gloss over the highlights:
• Said a solemn sayonara to my elementary school and a polite good rittins to the JHS at the end of March.
• Due to shady company drama, I was forced to seek employment with new company. New employment acquired. Same job, different employer, different city of work.
• Went cherry blossom-viewing, domestically bka “O-hanami.” Stunningly gorgeous for a whole two weeks.
• Celebrated another birthday. Yay! Birthday booty: a brand new box spring mattress, courtesy of my girl. The spinal-misaligning futon era comes to an end (Hurray!).
• Started work in new city, new school system. Now teaching at 3 elementary schools (no JHS). 3 schools, 50 classes, 1400 students, working with 50 different homeroom teachers, teaching 21-25 periods out of a 30 period week, not to mention planning and almost completely running every class in English and Japanese, even though I’m actually an “assistant” teacher by title (ha!), have assumed double the responsibility and workload of my previous schools, however with no increase in pay (argh). Also discovered that most Japanese kids under 15 don't know who Michael Jordan is (yikes!).
• Historic commuter train wreck in Hyogo prefecture leaves over 100 dead, hundreds more injured (I was not one of them-- different prefect.)
• Brand-new Apple computer tragically and mysteriously suffers roughly $900 US worth of damage, leaving me devastated.
• Brand-new Apple computer triumphantly and miraculously is repaired out of good faith by local Apple Store (after much perseverance, politicking and pleading).
• Enjoying beautiful weather during the Golden Week national holidays!
It's been a busy spring so far, with a lot of things happening/happened. Let's gloss over the highlights:
• Said a solemn sayonara to my elementary school and a polite good rittins to the JHS at the end of March.
• Due to shady company drama, I was forced to seek employment with new company. New employment acquired. Same job, different employer, different city of work.
• Went cherry blossom-viewing, domestically bka “O-hanami.” Stunningly gorgeous for a whole two weeks.
• Celebrated another birthday. Yay! Birthday booty: a brand new box spring mattress, courtesy of my girl. The spinal-misaligning futon era comes to an end (Hurray!).
• Started work in new city, new school system. Now teaching at 3 elementary schools (no JHS). 3 schools, 50 classes, 1400 students, working with 50 different homeroom teachers, teaching 21-25 periods out of a 30 period week, not to mention planning and almost completely running every class in English and Japanese, even though I’m actually an “assistant” teacher by title (ha!), have assumed double the responsibility and workload of my previous schools, however with no increase in pay (argh). Also discovered that most Japanese kids under 15 don't know who Michael Jordan is (yikes!).
• Historic commuter train wreck in Hyogo prefecture leaves over 100 dead, hundreds more injured (I was not one of them-- different prefect.)
• Brand-new Apple computer tragically and mysteriously suffers roughly $900 US worth of damage, leaving me devastated.
• Brand-new Apple computer triumphantly and miraculously is repaired out of good faith by local Apple Store (after much perseverance, politicking and pleading).
• Enjoying beautiful weather during the Golden Week national holidays!
Mar 17, 2005
SAYONARA JHS
Today was my last day at JHS, as I'll be changing schools for the
next school year. I didn't want to make a big tadoo about leaving, as I
didn't want to go through the ritual of saying goodbye's to all the
teachers with phony a sentiment seeing as how I got the love of a
red-headed stepchild for the bulk of the two years I spent there. I was
comfortable with the idea of leaving quietly, after all, I doubt I'd be
missed much. However, a quiet departure wasn't to be.
My plan was to give a few personal than-you's to the principals and the office secretary, Mrs. Kanie who'd been unfailingly nice to me since I first came to the school. I had two classes for the whole day, one with the special learning class. I had my last lunch with their class, and they gave me a jello-like fruit cup with a little "sayonara than-you note" attached. That was pretty nice. As the time rolled around for me to get off, I went to seek out the vice-principal to say my goodbye. Couldn't find him. Asked the secretary, and turned out he was in a meeting. I asked how long it would it be and she said she didn't know. Kind of blowing my spot, she said "Oh, today's your last day! I have to get the principal!" Immediately, I knew this was going to become a big deal. She went into the principal's office, adjoined to the staff room, and told them I wanted to speak to them. The vice-principal came out and before I could get two words in edgewise, he started clamoring about it being my last day and that they would have to summon all the teachers to the staff room for a formal goodbye. Aww jeez no.
The cat was out the bag and they were on the school loudspeaker before I knew it calling all teachers to the staffroom for the big formal goodbye. After the 20 or so teachers returned, the principal made a brief announcement about me leaving then called me to the head of the staffroom. All the teachers had to stand at their desks while I spoke. I thought I heard the principal say I could speak in English, but I deliverd my final words in Japanese. A few generic lines of Japanese business niceties followed by a bow to get me out of there in a hurry. I said something along the line of "Thank you" and "I had a good time at the school, good luck, goodbye, etc." The whole time, I half-felt like flipping them the bird, but what can I say--I was brought up too well to go out like that; thus, I went out with class. Shucks. Everyone politely clapped when I finished, and a few people shook my hand. The principal stood to the side making comical faces, innocently patronizing me about my Japanese being "pera-pera" or "fluent." Yeah right. Thanks.
And that was pretty much it. I got my stuff and headed toward the door, while everyone remained standing and gazing. One teacher handed me a grapefruit. Thanks. I actually mustered a decent smile as I shook the princpals' hands a couple more times. The always jesterly principal, slapped me on the back while laughingly feigning tears as I hit the door, as if to say that I'd be missed. Nice try homie. Sayonara JHS.
What can I say?: I never felt like I was genuinely respected/appreciated by the teachers there, but they were at least courteous on my way out. I have to accept it as another of life's many learning experiences. On to bigger and better.
My plan was to give a few personal than-you's to the principals and the office secretary, Mrs. Kanie who'd been unfailingly nice to me since I first came to the school. I had two classes for the whole day, one with the special learning class. I had my last lunch with their class, and they gave me a jello-like fruit cup with a little "sayonara than-you note" attached. That was pretty nice. As the time rolled around for me to get off, I went to seek out the vice-principal to say my goodbye. Couldn't find him. Asked the secretary, and turned out he was in a meeting. I asked how long it would it be and she said she didn't know. Kind of blowing my spot, she said "Oh, today's your last day! I have to get the principal!" Immediately, I knew this was going to become a big deal. She went into the principal's office, adjoined to the staff room, and told them I wanted to speak to them. The vice-principal came out and before I could get two words in edgewise, he started clamoring about it being my last day and that they would have to summon all the teachers to the staff room for a formal goodbye. Aww jeez no.
The cat was out the bag and they were on the school loudspeaker before I knew it calling all teachers to the staffroom for the big formal goodbye. After the 20 or so teachers returned, the principal made a brief announcement about me leaving then called me to the head of the staffroom. All the teachers had to stand at their desks while I spoke. I thought I heard the principal say I could speak in English, but I deliverd my final words in Japanese. A few generic lines of Japanese business niceties followed by a bow to get me out of there in a hurry. I said something along the line of "Thank you" and "I had a good time at the school, good luck, goodbye, etc." The whole time, I half-felt like flipping them the bird, but what can I say--I was brought up too well to go out like that; thus, I went out with class. Shucks. Everyone politely clapped when I finished, and a few people shook my hand. The principal stood to the side making comical faces, innocently patronizing me about my Japanese being "pera-pera" or "fluent." Yeah right. Thanks.
And that was pretty much it. I got my stuff and headed toward the door, while everyone remained standing and gazing. One teacher handed me a grapefruit. Thanks. I actually mustered a decent smile as I shook the princpals' hands a couple more times. The always jesterly principal, slapped me on the back while laughingly feigning tears as I hit the door, as if to say that I'd be missed. Nice try homie. Sayonara JHS.
What can I say?: I never felt like I was genuinely respected/appreciated by the teachers there, but they were at least courteous on my way out. I have to accept it as another of life's many learning experiences. On to bigger and better.
Feb 15, 2005
HOW TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BY A BLACK FOREIGNER
There's about 5 weeks of the school year left, and I'm glad because the needle on my Japanese B.S.-Tolerance Gauge has been taking precarious dips in the red lately. Of course, I'm talking about JHS life.
So, in class yesterday, a third-year boy named Tetsuro said the word "nigger" to me, out of the blue. It actually sounded more like "nee gah," a mispronunciation byproduct of the effed-up speak known domestically as "Japanese English." Despite the mispronunciation, which sucked just about all of the impact out of the word, I picked up on it immediately. At the time, I was walking around the classroom preparing students to pair off to play a game. I'd just approached Tetsuro's desk, when he suddenly uttered the word, followed by a sheepish chuckle. The boy sitting across from him, Kauzuki instantly warned him to be quiet-- he knew better. In Japanese, I instantly asked "What did you say?" and "Who taught you that word?" Embarrassed, he clammed up, leaving Kazuki to answer in his stead "He doesn't know." I then calmly instructed him to not to say it again. He complied.
Now, for a split second, I was faced with the decision to get angry and blow the incident up into a major issue, which could have gotten ugly. But for some reason, I chose not to get upset, simply due to the fact that this 15-year old kid had no clue what world he was about to enter by trying to be funny, unmaliciously spouting some mangled word he heard from one of his wiseass friends, or probably read in some J-hip-hop magazine. The concept that he could he hospitalized just for saying that one word alone was miles over his head. That, and the fact that Tetsuro is one of the most unproductive kids in his grade and about as bright as a black hole actually made me feel sympathy for him. Obviously, a country-ass kid as dull as that couldn't come from parents too much brighter; afterall, he's not so much of a bad kid, he's just dumb as hell, so I couldn't really hold it against him, even though I wanted to smack him in the mouth. But, damn, hearing a racial epithet in an environment where I'm already virtually socially ostracized is like tossing a fat straw on a creaking camel's back. I really don't want to have to hurt any students, or teachers for that matter. I'm about 90% sure if it had been any J-person on the street, It would've gotten physical, joking or not.
These days I've been feeling like the brothas on the Brooklyn stoop of Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing"--Step on my Nikes and catch a beat-down.
So, in class yesterday, a third-year boy named Tetsuro said the word "nigger" to me, out of the blue. It actually sounded more like "nee gah," a mispronunciation byproduct of the effed-up speak known domestically as "Japanese English." Despite the mispronunciation, which sucked just about all of the impact out of the word, I picked up on it immediately. At the time, I was walking around the classroom preparing students to pair off to play a game. I'd just approached Tetsuro's desk, when he suddenly uttered the word, followed by a sheepish chuckle. The boy sitting across from him, Kauzuki instantly warned him to be quiet-- he knew better. In Japanese, I instantly asked "What did you say?" and "Who taught you that word?" Embarrassed, he clammed up, leaving Kazuki to answer in his stead "He doesn't know." I then calmly instructed him to not to say it again. He complied.
Now, for a split second, I was faced with the decision to get angry and blow the incident up into a major issue, which could have gotten ugly. But for some reason, I chose not to get upset, simply due to the fact that this 15-year old kid had no clue what world he was about to enter by trying to be funny, unmaliciously spouting some mangled word he heard from one of his wiseass friends, or probably read in some J-hip-hop magazine. The concept that he could he hospitalized just for saying that one word alone was miles over his head. That, and the fact that Tetsuro is one of the most unproductive kids in his grade and about as bright as a black hole actually made me feel sympathy for him. Obviously, a country-ass kid as dull as that couldn't come from parents too much brighter; afterall, he's not so much of a bad kid, he's just dumb as hell, so I couldn't really hold it against him, even though I wanted to smack him in the mouth. But, damn, hearing a racial epithet in an environment where I'm already virtually socially ostracized is like tossing a fat straw on a creaking camel's back. I really don't want to have to hurt any students, or teachers for that matter. I'm about 90% sure if it had been any J-person on the street, It would've gotten physical, joking or not.
These days I've been feeling like the brothas on the Brooklyn stoop of Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing"--Step on my Nikes and catch a beat-down.
Feb 6, 2005
DAMN, IT'S COLD
Japanese folk need to come to Chicago because I think they like cold.
I actually got to Elementary a little early today, to my chagrin. I made it just in time for the big morning assembly, which was held inside for a change. It might has well have been outside, because I swear it was colder inside that gymnasium than it was outside. My breath was so cold, my breath looked I was smoking cigarettes. Ridiculous. The meeting was longer than usual, because the graduating 6th grader color team captains had to pass down their ranks to the 4th graders. This entailed a lot of excessive speaking and low-grade pomp and circumstance. As if everyone wasn't freezing to death, it seemed like they kept extending the duration of the meeting, finding more and more unnecessary b.s. to ammend to an already overdrawn assembly. They capped it off with the GAYEST school dance known in the Eastern hemisphere. Besides being ultra-campy, it lacked flavor, style and coordination. They need a choreographer. And don't look at me like I'm the token nigger dance-boy teaching Japanese folk how to dance and catch rhythm--to hell with that. The assistant principal came up to me and asked me to join in. I looked around and none of the other teachers are moving a muscle. I'm thinking to myself "Why the hell you want me to do this exceptionally GAY dance when not one other teacher is twitching a butt cheek? What I look like?" Then after a few seconds I start doing a few of the little moves, just trying to generate some heat. I dunno, but I'm feeling like this next school year might be last at this gig--I can already feel the seeds of disinterest settling in--and there's not much worse in life than being bored.
On another note, I don't have class until 3rd period, so until then I'm monitoring the online play-by-play of Super Bowl 39, even though it's Monday morning, Feb 7th. I haven't been a pro football fan in some time, but I'm quietly rooting for McNabb to get this ring. It's past due time to add another Black QB to the championship cadre. Doug is lonely. Go Eagles!
I actually got to Elementary a little early today, to my chagrin. I made it just in time for the big morning assembly, which was held inside for a change. It might has well have been outside, because I swear it was colder inside that gymnasium than it was outside. My breath was so cold, my breath looked I was smoking cigarettes. Ridiculous. The meeting was longer than usual, because the graduating 6th grader color team captains had to pass down their ranks to the 4th graders. This entailed a lot of excessive speaking and low-grade pomp and circumstance. As if everyone wasn't freezing to death, it seemed like they kept extending the duration of the meeting, finding more and more unnecessary b.s. to ammend to an already overdrawn assembly. They capped it off with the GAYEST school dance known in the Eastern hemisphere. Besides being ultra-campy, it lacked flavor, style and coordination. They need a choreographer. And don't look at me like I'm the token nigger dance-boy teaching Japanese folk how to dance and catch rhythm--to hell with that. The assistant principal came up to me and asked me to join in. I looked around and none of the other teachers are moving a muscle. I'm thinking to myself "Why the hell you want me to do this exceptionally GAY dance when not one other teacher is twitching a butt cheek? What I look like?" Then after a few seconds I start doing a few of the little moves, just trying to generate some heat. I dunno, but I'm feeling like this next school year might be last at this gig--I can already feel the seeds of disinterest settling in--and there's not much worse in life than being bored.
On another note, I don't have class until 3rd period, so until then I'm monitoring the online play-by-play of Super Bowl 39, even though it's Monday morning, Feb 7th. I haven't been a pro football fan in some time, but I'm quietly rooting for McNabb to get this ring. It's past due time to add another Black QB to the championship cadre. Doug is lonely. Go Eagles!
Feb 2, 2005
COLD AS HOKKAIDO
Yesterday we got snow. It was the first time I've seen snow in the almost 3 years I've been in this country. It was real snow, too, not that rooty-poot flurry BS-- at least 2 or 3 inches of it, enough to make me bust out my old leather Timbs. I was impressed. I was happy as well, because snowfall meant the trains were going to be running slow, which would make me late for work. The Nagoya area is totally unbuilt for snow, and public transportation and highways virtually shut down even when it rains hard. When I got to the station, the times weren't even being displayed on the marquee; they were just blank. It was like you catch one when you catch one. That was cool with me. I was more than happy to have an excuse to be late for work; I'm at JHS this week.
The trains were ridiculous. More folks were riding because the roads were jammed and too crappy to navigate, so the cars were packed. People were cramming and squishing each other onto those trains in a silly fashion. I had to grab the first seat I saw, because I was afraid somebody was gonna shove me too hard which would provoke me to elbow them in the face. Unfortunately, the trains weren't as late as I was hoping, so I only ended up about 20 minutes late for school. But I was early compared to most of the homeroom teachers. Some of them came straggling in over an hour late. In 2 years I've never seen a teacher arrive late to school, but yesterday I saw about 10. The principal jokingly cursed some of the younger teachers aloud who'd called in saying they might not be able to make it. He kept saying "Baka yaroo," which is about the equivalent of calling someone a "dumbass" in English, and won a few chuckles from the other teachers. He's a funny dude.
I'd love to call one of these teachers baka yaroo, some of the kids too for that matter. The needle on my Japanese B.S.-Tolerance Gauge has been dipping in the red lately. I stopped caring about trying to be friendly with any of the teachers at JHS. My empathy for them has been deactivated for quite some time now, and I could give a damn less about most of them, honestly. This school can pretty much kiss my Black, foreign ass. My feelings are lighter towards the students, but recently I've been wanting to go upside some of their heads, too. Maybe its because I've been under higher levels of stress recently, but it seems like I'm not getting the respect I deserve as a teacher and a adult from some of these junior high kids, particularly some of the girls. Most of the kids are pretty respectful, and if they get out of line, usually one of my "do I look like I'm playing with you?" stares mellows them out real quick, but some of those girls just speak in a very rude manner, in ways I know they wouldn't talk to their Japanese teachers. I've become familiar with the language well enough to know what proper and impolite speech sounds like, so I'm not having it.
Sometimes I wish I could turn back the Japan clock about 10-15 years, back when teachers were still punching kids in the mouth. Nowadays, Japan is so PC, not only can't teachers hit students, but students can get physical with teachers with no serious repercussions. I know this, because I've witnessed it. I once had to pull a skinny 14 year-old boy off the science teacher--and didn't even get an "Arigatoo" from the sissy afterwards. I should've let him slam him against the wall again.
Anyway, let me focus on less violent things. I only have one month left before the school year ends and I get transferred to a different school. I'll try not to choke anybody before graduation.
The trains were ridiculous. More folks were riding because the roads were jammed and too crappy to navigate, so the cars were packed. People were cramming and squishing each other onto those trains in a silly fashion. I had to grab the first seat I saw, because I was afraid somebody was gonna shove me too hard which would provoke me to elbow them in the face. Unfortunately, the trains weren't as late as I was hoping, so I only ended up about 20 minutes late for school. But I was early compared to most of the homeroom teachers. Some of them came straggling in over an hour late. In 2 years I've never seen a teacher arrive late to school, but yesterday I saw about 10. The principal jokingly cursed some of the younger teachers aloud who'd called in saying they might not be able to make it. He kept saying "Baka yaroo," which is about the equivalent of calling someone a "dumbass" in English, and won a few chuckles from the other teachers. He's a funny dude.
I'd love to call one of these teachers baka yaroo, some of the kids too for that matter. The needle on my Japanese B.S.-Tolerance Gauge has been dipping in the red lately. I stopped caring about trying to be friendly with any of the teachers at JHS. My empathy for them has been deactivated for quite some time now, and I could give a damn less about most of them, honestly. This school can pretty much kiss my Black, foreign ass. My feelings are lighter towards the students, but recently I've been wanting to go upside some of their heads, too. Maybe its because I've been under higher levels of stress recently, but it seems like I'm not getting the respect I deserve as a teacher and a adult from some of these junior high kids, particularly some of the girls. Most of the kids are pretty respectful, and if they get out of line, usually one of my "do I look like I'm playing with you?" stares mellows them out real quick, but some of those girls just speak in a very rude manner, in ways I know they wouldn't talk to their Japanese teachers. I've become familiar with the language well enough to know what proper and impolite speech sounds like, so I'm not having it.
Sometimes I wish I could turn back the Japan clock about 10-15 years, back when teachers were still punching kids in the mouth. Nowadays, Japan is so PC, not only can't teachers hit students, but students can get physical with teachers with no serious repercussions. I know this, because I've witnessed it. I once had to pull a skinny 14 year-old boy off the science teacher--and didn't even get an "Arigatoo" from the sissy afterwards. I should've let him slam him against the wall again.
Anyway, let me focus on less violent things. I only have one month left before the school year ends and I get transferred to a different school. I'll try not to choke anybody before graduation.
Jan 13, 2005
NOT...READY TO DIE...YET
I attended my first Japanese funeral last night, my first in adulthood. I never imagined I would experience attending a funeral while living abroad, but it happened. Not that I was looking forward to the experience.
Tragedy struck the famiy of one the 5th graders, a cool little girl named Sayaka, when her father accidently slipped and fell from a 30-foot tower at his job, a local steel plant in town. Especially considering Japan's high safety standards, the news came as a shock to all, enough to make the newspaper. According to the article, he wasn't wearing any safety harnesses, which I'm guessing is typical safety gear worn in that situation, however, he was wearing a hard helmet which obviously wasn't enough but it wasn't enough to prevent his death. He was 52.
I wasn't aware of any of this until the day of the funeral, which was the day following the accident. 10 minutes before I was due to go home, Kanie-Sensei approached me and asked was I going to the funeral that evening. I was like, "Funeral?! What funeral?!! Who died?!"
Learning the news put a downer on an otherwise fine day. Ten minutes before I walk out the door, I'm being asked to go to a funeral. I didn't particularly feel up to going to somebody's funeral on a moment's notice, though after a minute or two of contemplation, I decided I would attend to show support for one of my students. I wasn't exactly dressed to attend a funeral service (though some might disagree. har!) so after school, Kanie-Sensei ofered to take me by his whouse to pick up some clothes for us to wear. We got the gear and came back to the school. He had a spare black suit, actually, it was his old man's suit which he let me wear. The pants legs and arms on the jacket were flooding like crazy, but there was nothing we could do about it. Afterall, this wasn't a fashion show. After we changed, he gave me some ceremonial Buddhist prayer beads and a quick tutorial on what to do at the funeral (there were a couple of rites that visitors performed to show respect for the dead, one involving the manipulation of wooden ashes).
We hopped back in his van and headed to ceremony, which was right down the street from the school, but not before stopping at the nearest convenience store to grab a quick bite. Kanie-Sensei paid for my meal, which consisted of a microwaveable bento plate with a standard small portion of spaghetti, rice and chicken kara-age (Japanese-style fried chicken chunks), plus an onigiri (rice ball wrapped in seaweed) and a small bottle of hot tea. We scarfed that down in his car in the store parking lot, before making the 3-minute drive down to the appropriately-named "ceremony hall" (I'd always wondered exactly what kind of ceremonies were held in Japanese ceremony halls, since weddings are typically held in churches. Yes, a Buddhist nation which holds a great majority of its wedding ceremonies in Christian churches. Figure that one out).
I learned alot about Japanese funerals that evening. I was particularly impressed by the turnout. There were at least a couple hundred people who showed just within the 20-minutes we were there. The whole community: besides family members, classmates, parents, teachers, friends, co-workers were all in attendance, waiting in two long lines to enter the very Western-styled hall. Being the only foreigner there, many a head turned when I walked in the place dressed in black; a lot of the folks there from the school community knew who I was so it was all good. Amongst the crowd, I think I saw the high school punk whom I suspect vandalized my bike way back when. When I see him on the street, he usually tries to mean-mug me, to no avail, but on this night he avoided eye contact completely. I'm sure he was more surprised to see me there than I was him.
The atmosphere of the funeral wasn't particulary somber at all. The hall was mostly quiet and the inner hall where the family and some guests were seated was well-lit. When the prayer ceremony started Kanie motioned me to follow him into the inner hall. I trailed him to empty seats and just basically mimicked what he did. He pulled out the beads and clasped them around his hands then put them together in prayer. I did the same. At the front was a wooden altar with a framed picture of the deceased. Then a clergyman at the front opened a book and began reciting a prayer, which actually was more of a chant. Everyone else broke out in unison with the chanting but none of them had any literature to recite from--they were coming straight off the head; that was when I noticed that all the visitors weren't participating in the prayer. I realized then that "Oh, the folks praying must be the HARDCORE Buddhists," real practicing Buddhists, as opposed to most Japanese people who are not. (Just like folks in the U.S. claim they're Christian yet don't go to church or mass, it's kinda the same in Japan with Buddhism). What was amazing was how everyone including Kanie was reciting the mono-syllabic utterances flawlessly, straight from the head, for about 10 minutes straight. Meanwhile, I sat there with hands together wondering if they were repeating the same phrases or reciting one mega-long passage.
During the prayer, I was peeking up, watching the clergyman and reading the family names scripted on the big flower bouquets for the family, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed two people stand up and walk to the middle of the room and start bowing incessantly. I then spotted Sayaka in the front row on the other side of the room. She was sitting alone, sobbing uncontrollably holding a small towel over her eyes to soak up her tears. Sadder than her crying, was that not one person was consoling her or even had their arm on her shoulder. I mean this kid is only 10 and just lost her father for the rest of her life. I felt for her and just wanted to go over and give the kid a hug. Where were her folks? I realized then the people who'd gotten up were her mother and older brother. They had to stand together to bow and pay respects to EVERY ONE of the dozens of visitors. There was nothing they could do to console Sayaka at that point. I looked up and saw Sayaka's mom bowing, herself in tears. The brother was holding himself together and did his duty. He only looked about high school-aged. Kanie-Sensei and I got up and joined the line to pay respects. When we got to the front of the line, we performed some ritual which involved moving small ashes by hand from one box to another, three times. We then bowed to the family and left.
More surprising was the fact we received parting gifts on our way out the door. In our gift bags were: small packets of salt (used to wash the hands of bad spirits) and a box of household white sugar. That had me imagining what American funerals would change if they had to give gifts away to visitors.
I don't know if I fear death, however it's been on my mind more than I'd like as of late. I don't worry about my own death so much, rather I think I have some buried anxieties about my family and friends. Now I know 3 people who've lost parents within the span of the last two months--something I've been sympathetic to, yet can't relate to. What I have learned from witnessing these people, is that death and loss and painful but not unbearable. These people have continued carrying on their lives for the future. But then, of course they would. What the hell am I fretting about anyway?
I know it's kind of silly to sit and contemplate the ramifications of death and loss of loved ones while people are still walking around live and well, but it's something that I know I'll inevitably have to face, including my own. Everyone has to have their turn, as morbid and immature as that sounds. As the saying goes: "The only things certain in life are death and taxes," but I wonder, is there anyway I can be prepared for it or deal with it when it happens?
Tragedy struck the famiy of one the 5th graders, a cool little girl named Sayaka, when her father accidently slipped and fell from a 30-foot tower at his job, a local steel plant in town. Especially considering Japan's high safety standards, the news came as a shock to all, enough to make the newspaper. According to the article, he wasn't wearing any safety harnesses, which I'm guessing is typical safety gear worn in that situation, however, he was wearing a hard helmet which obviously wasn't enough but it wasn't enough to prevent his death. He was 52.
I wasn't aware of any of this until the day of the funeral, which was the day following the accident. 10 minutes before I was due to go home, Kanie-Sensei approached me and asked was I going to the funeral that evening. I was like, "Funeral?! What funeral?!! Who died?!"
Learning the news put a downer on an otherwise fine day. Ten minutes before I walk out the door, I'm being asked to go to a funeral. I didn't particularly feel up to going to somebody's funeral on a moment's notice, though after a minute or two of contemplation, I decided I would attend to show support for one of my students. I wasn't exactly dressed to attend a funeral service (though some might disagree. har!) so after school, Kanie-Sensei ofered to take me by his whouse to pick up some clothes for us to wear. We got the gear and came back to the school. He had a spare black suit, actually, it was his old man's suit which he let me wear. The pants legs and arms on the jacket were flooding like crazy, but there was nothing we could do about it. Afterall, this wasn't a fashion show. After we changed, he gave me some ceremonial Buddhist prayer beads and a quick tutorial on what to do at the funeral (there were a couple of rites that visitors performed to show respect for the dead, one involving the manipulation of wooden ashes).
We hopped back in his van and headed to ceremony, which was right down the street from the school, but not before stopping at the nearest convenience store to grab a quick bite. Kanie-Sensei paid for my meal, which consisted of a microwaveable bento plate with a standard small portion of spaghetti, rice and chicken kara-age (Japanese-style fried chicken chunks), plus an onigiri (rice ball wrapped in seaweed) and a small bottle of hot tea. We scarfed that down in his car in the store parking lot, before making the 3-minute drive down to the appropriately-named "ceremony hall" (I'd always wondered exactly what kind of ceremonies were held in Japanese ceremony halls, since weddings are typically held in churches. Yes, a Buddhist nation which holds a great majority of its wedding ceremonies in Christian churches. Figure that one out).
I learned alot about Japanese funerals that evening. I was particularly impressed by the turnout. There were at least a couple hundred people who showed just within the 20-minutes we were there. The whole community: besides family members, classmates, parents, teachers, friends, co-workers were all in attendance, waiting in two long lines to enter the very Western-styled hall. Being the only foreigner there, many a head turned when I walked in the place dressed in black; a lot of the folks there from the school community knew who I was so it was all good. Amongst the crowd, I think I saw the high school punk whom I suspect vandalized my bike way back when. When I see him on the street, he usually tries to mean-mug me, to no avail, but on this night he avoided eye contact completely. I'm sure he was more surprised to see me there than I was him.
The atmosphere of the funeral wasn't particulary somber at all. The hall was mostly quiet and the inner hall where the family and some guests were seated was well-lit. When the prayer ceremony started Kanie motioned me to follow him into the inner hall. I trailed him to empty seats and just basically mimicked what he did. He pulled out the beads and clasped them around his hands then put them together in prayer. I did the same. At the front was a wooden altar with a framed picture of the deceased. Then a clergyman at the front opened a book and began reciting a prayer, which actually was more of a chant. Everyone else broke out in unison with the chanting but none of them had any literature to recite from--they were coming straight off the head; that was when I noticed that all the visitors weren't participating in the prayer. I realized then that "Oh, the folks praying must be the HARDCORE Buddhists," real practicing Buddhists, as opposed to most Japanese people who are not. (Just like folks in the U.S. claim they're Christian yet don't go to church or mass, it's kinda the same in Japan with Buddhism). What was amazing was how everyone including Kanie was reciting the mono-syllabic utterances flawlessly, straight from the head, for about 10 minutes straight. Meanwhile, I sat there with hands together wondering if they were repeating the same phrases or reciting one mega-long passage.
During the prayer, I was peeking up, watching the clergyman and reading the family names scripted on the big flower bouquets for the family, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed two people stand up and walk to the middle of the room and start bowing incessantly. I then spotted Sayaka in the front row on the other side of the room. She was sitting alone, sobbing uncontrollably holding a small towel over her eyes to soak up her tears. Sadder than her crying, was that not one person was consoling her or even had their arm on her shoulder. I mean this kid is only 10 and just lost her father for the rest of her life. I felt for her and just wanted to go over and give the kid a hug. Where were her folks? I realized then the people who'd gotten up were her mother and older brother. They had to stand together to bow and pay respects to EVERY ONE of the dozens of visitors. There was nothing they could do to console Sayaka at that point. I looked up and saw Sayaka's mom bowing, herself in tears. The brother was holding himself together and did his duty. He only looked about high school-aged. Kanie-Sensei and I got up and joined the line to pay respects. When we got to the front of the line, we performed some ritual which involved moving small ashes by hand from one box to another, three times. We then bowed to the family and left.
More surprising was the fact we received parting gifts on our way out the door. In our gift bags were: small packets of salt (used to wash the hands of bad spirits) and a box of household white sugar. That had me imagining what American funerals would change if they had to give gifts away to visitors.
I don't know if I fear death, however it's been on my mind more than I'd like as of late. I don't worry about my own death so much, rather I think I have some buried anxieties about my family and friends. Now I know 3 people who've lost parents within the span of the last two months--something I've been sympathetic to, yet can't relate to. What I have learned from witnessing these people, is that death and loss and painful but not unbearable. These people have continued carrying on their lives for the future. But then, of course they would. What the hell am I fretting about anyway?
I know it's kind of silly to sit and contemplate the ramifications of death and loss of loved ones while people are still walking around live and well, but it's something that I know I'll inevitably have to face, including my own. Everyone has to have their turn, as morbid and immature as that sounds. As the saying goes: "The only things certain in life are death and taxes," but I wonder, is there anyway I can be prepared for it or deal with it when it happens?
Jan 7, 2005
IN THE YEAR OF THE ROOSTER...
Hi. Happy 2000-frickin-5! Wow. One more year and we'll be halfway through the doggone decade already. They weren't bee-essing when they said time flies as you get older, whoever "they" is.
Wrapping up my annual holiday home visit. I enjoyed my break markedly more than last year's, primarliy because it was about a WEEK longer. Yeah. I rested fairly well, ate fairly well, and caught up with fam and friends fairly well. This year, I gave up trying to track down every single human I know, and just get on with the ones who were accessible. I must say, there's a lot less anxiety in doing it that way.
Not news, my family is a trip. Good people, love them to death, but at the ripe age of 27, I'm really beginning to understand why my girlfriend accused me of speaking "too aggressively" to her to the point where she felt upset and like I was belittling and demeaning her--which was SO not true. I've never displayed true anger towards Sa, and was befuddled and annoyed she could accuse me of behaviour I clearly felt I wasn't displaying towards her. I tried to explain to her that "Baby, this is just the way I speak. I'm not actually mad at you." In my defense, I even chalked it up to our cultural differences. But upon winter re-immersion amongst kinfolk, after laying back and soaking in oh-so-many familial dialogues, it hit me: just about everyone in my family has the ability, rather, the inclination to chew each other out, even during the most loving of moments. Non-violent people we are, yet it seems everyone in our clan posesses the rhythmic skills of nagging, debating, contesting and chiding, to varying degrees. And the Smart Alec gene is woven tightly into our DNA, without a shadow of a doubt, and kicks in like clockwork to jocular and/or aggravating effect, situation dependent. I realize now, I also possess these oral behaviour patterns and they've become engrained in me as well. Though a quiet-type of individual, apparently I've acquired the craft of verbal jousting, merely by necessity of survival in my family caucus. And, at least to one Japanese young lady, a craft which seems domineering. Wow, what a revelation.
Hmm. On one hand, being a smart-ass can be quite useful, and debate skills are admirable, but alas, the last thing I want to be is a nag. Argh. I hope I haven't been a nag. Note to self: apologize to Sa just in case.
On a Mis Cleo-esque note, I have a few predictions to make for 2005. Coming into this year, my feelings are pretty neutral, anticipating nothing in particular--which leads me to believe that 2005 will be an interesting, and bigger-than-expected year. I get the sense that this will be a year of life-altering transition, growth, and development. In the same breath, I suspect '05 may also be a bittersweet year on personal, national, and even global levels. It'll be a year of surprises, some good, some bad. I think it'll be one of those years where one individual can experience personal tragedy and personal triumph. Whereas 2004 seemed like a "hold steady, maintain" type of year, I think 2005 will be a year marked by CHANGE. Don't ask me why--I'm not feigning clairvoyance--this is just my gut I'm working with here.
Unfortunately, the new year came in the wake of monumental global disaster with the tsunami deaths of South Asia. Even to learn of the many casualties in Thailand, on the same isle I vacated to just months ago, didn't really hit home for me. I felt so detached, I guess being so far away from it all, safe within the domestic confines of the good l' US of A. Gosh, how American of me. I'm just glad I went there in the summer and not for winter break. Amen.
Contrary to popular belief, all the effects of our lives are not subject to our individual wills alone. By the way, I don't exactly believe that everything that happens is pre-destined to happen exactly as it happens, if you know what I mean. However, I am a firm believer in Karma. What we put out in the world, we WILL get back, please believe it!
Happy '05!
Wrapping up my annual holiday home visit. I enjoyed my break markedly more than last year's, primarliy because it was about a WEEK longer. Yeah. I rested fairly well, ate fairly well, and caught up with fam and friends fairly well. This year, I gave up trying to track down every single human I know, and just get on with the ones who were accessible. I must say, there's a lot less anxiety in doing it that way.
Not news, my family is a trip. Good people, love them to death, but at the ripe age of 27, I'm really beginning to understand why my girlfriend accused me of speaking "too aggressively" to her to the point where she felt upset and like I was belittling and demeaning her--which was SO not true. I've never displayed true anger towards Sa, and was befuddled and annoyed she could accuse me of behaviour I clearly felt I wasn't displaying towards her. I tried to explain to her that "Baby, this is just the way I speak. I'm not actually mad at you." In my defense, I even chalked it up to our cultural differences. But upon winter re-immersion amongst kinfolk, after laying back and soaking in oh-so-many familial dialogues, it hit me: just about everyone in my family has the ability, rather, the inclination to chew each other out, even during the most loving of moments. Non-violent people we are, yet it seems everyone in our clan posesses the rhythmic skills of nagging, debating, contesting and chiding, to varying degrees. And the Smart Alec gene is woven tightly into our DNA, without a shadow of a doubt, and kicks in like clockwork to jocular and/or aggravating effect, situation dependent. I realize now, I also possess these oral behaviour patterns and they've become engrained in me as well. Though a quiet-type of individual, apparently I've acquired the craft of verbal jousting, merely by necessity of survival in my family caucus. And, at least to one Japanese young lady, a craft which seems domineering. Wow, what a revelation.
Hmm. On one hand, being a smart-ass can be quite useful, and debate skills are admirable, but alas, the last thing I want to be is a nag. Argh. I hope I haven't been a nag. Note to self: apologize to Sa just in case.
On a Mis Cleo-esque note, I have a few predictions to make for 2005. Coming into this year, my feelings are pretty neutral, anticipating nothing in particular--which leads me to believe that 2005 will be an interesting, and bigger-than-expected year. I get the sense that this will be a year of life-altering transition, growth, and development. In the same breath, I suspect '05 may also be a bittersweet year on personal, national, and even global levels. It'll be a year of surprises, some good, some bad. I think it'll be one of those years where one individual can experience personal tragedy and personal triumph. Whereas 2004 seemed like a "hold steady, maintain" type of year, I think 2005 will be a year marked by CHANGE. Don't ask me why--I'm not feigning clairvoyance--this is just my gut I'm working with here.
Unfortunately, the new year came in the wake of monumental global disaster with the tsunami deaths of South Asia. Even to learn of the many casualties in Thailand, on the same isle I vacated to just months ago, didn't really hit home for me. I felt so detached, I guess being so far away from it all, safe within the domestic confines of the good l' US of A. Gosh, how American of me. I'm just glad I went there in the summer and not for winter break. Amen.
Contrary to popular belief, all the effects of our lives are not subject to our individual wills alone. By the way, I don't exactly believe that everything that happens is pre-destined to happen exactly as it happens, if you know what I mean. However, I am a firm believer in Karma. What we put out in the world, we WILL get back, please believe it!
Happy '05!
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