Don't ask me why I wrote it... I just did.
An unnamed journalist conducted an exclusive group interview at the recent Celebrity Supermom Power Summit at the Anaheim Convention Center in Anaheim, California. He caught up with Madonna, Angelina Jolie, Governor Sarah Palin, Erykah Badu, and Nadya Suleman aka "Octomom," who had arrived just prior to their panel seminar, "Whose Your Mommy?: How to Be a Supermom." Here's the transcript:
Journalist: Thank you ladies for this opportunity. This is such a unique occasion in Hollywood to be able to bring together so many lovely women celebrities who are also iconic supermoms. Could I have your thoughts on this event?
Gov. Sarah Palin: Ya know, I'm just so glad to be here to be able to come together with real American women like myself to celebrate and honor working moms who are just so proud to be red-blooded Americans. The free t-shirts and passes to Disneyworld were really nice too!
Madonna: This power summit is mind-blowing. It's an empowering moment for the supermoms to come out, bond, and just celebrate the many pleasures of being a mother, especially procreation...
Angelina Jolie: Yeah...
Erykah Badu: Well, I believe the Most High brought all of us sisters here today and gave us this platform to give thanks and be one as a community of Earth-goddesses...
Nadya Suleman: I'm just so excited to be here! Angelina, it's so nice to meet you!
Angelina Jolie: Yeah...
Badu: They said my girl Lauryn was supposed to be here. Have any of y'all seen her?
Journalist: That's great. So ladies, could you just briefly sum up what it's like to be a supermom? How do you balance being high-profile career women and raising large families at the same time?
Madge: Well, since I was a girl, I've always felt like I was destined to be a supermom. Then after I had Lourdes, I knew it was true, because everything just felt right, you know? My sex drive was in high gear, and I just wanted more and more babies. Then Rocco came...and after that, the Kabbalah guided me to Africa, and little David came into my life. El Shaddai has given me so many blessings with my children. Motherhood is super sexy...
Badu: Ooh, that's deep, girl.
Jolie: Yeah, totally...
Palin: Who is Elsa Die?..
Madge: No, that's El Shaddai...as in God.
Palin: Ohh, I see. Well, up north in Alaska we call God "Sweet Baby Jesus," but I have respect for the pagan faiths as well.
Madge: It's not pagan, it's Hebrew...You know, you should try studying Kabbalah--it really helps with bad karma...
Palin: Oh, ya know, thank you so much for your offer, Miss Madonna, but I think I'll stick with the American God.
Badu: Um, anyway... so, to me, becoming a mother was a true blessing. My seeds have brought so much light into my life, and my inner Earth has blossomed 360 degrees into a full cipher, ya dig what I'm saying?
Journalist: Mm, not really. But I'm listening...
Octomom: I love being a mommy. I love all of my babies, so, so very much. I'd do anything in the world for them. They're my best friends. Did you know that Angelina Jolie means "happy little angel" in French? I read it in a magazine. I named all of my octuplets "Angel" too.
Jolie: ...
Palin: Ya know, being a supermom is just the bestest thing. It's sorta like being mayor of a small town, except you live in the same house with all your constituents--but they can't vote you out! But ya know what the great thing about having a big family is, Mr. Reporter? You can really put your older ones to good use by making them tend to your young'uns while you take care of more important business like keeping our borders safe. Gotta keep an eye on those Russians!
Journalist: I see. Moving along...uh, I'd like your thoughts on adoption. It seems more celebrity moms are taking steps toward adopting children, particularly from abroad. I'd especially like to hear from Angelina and Madonna, in light of your recent plight in Malawi...
Madge: Well, I was just devastated by what happened in Malawi. I just couldn't understand it...I mean, you would think they would be grateful that I flew all the way down there from London to take a poor, little baby off of their hands. I mean, c'mon, my ovaries have just about had it, and only want David to grow up with another child who looks like him. And little Mercy was a perfect fit to complete the set. They've just made things so hard for me...
Jolie: You should go to Cambodia. The babies are pretty cheap there, too. No hassle.
Journalist: Okay, so..Angelina? Your thoughts on adoption?
Jolie: I'm all for it. I love babies, but after two natural childbirths, but I'm so over C-sections. It's all adoptions from here on out.
Journalist: Is that so? So you're planning on adopting again?
Jolie: Most definitely. Brad and I have been planning a trip to India. I got a hankering for one of those adorable Slumdog cuties after we saw the film...I'm thinking about getting all three versions of the lead girl.
Badu: Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt.... Look, if y'all wanted some po' lil' dark-skinned babies, all y'all had to do was come down to the ATL and Dallas...they got all types of lil' black crack babies down there! I'm sure adoption would be NO problem. Hell, I gotta couple of 'kids that I'd be more than glad to let you babysit on the weekends. I get tired of dealing with Seven and Puma's daddies' mess all the time...
Jolie: Crack baby? Sorry, I don't do domestic.
Palin: Oh, you have a puma? I have a Huskie!
Badu: No, honey. That's Puma Rose--my eldest baby girl...
Madge: I dated a Tiger and a Bengal once.
Badu: Y'ALL are trippin'...
Octomom: I wanted to have all my babies naturally, so I just adopted the sperm part.
Palin: Ohh, are you the lady who had all the surrogate babies?
Octomom: Not surrogate...in-vitro embryonic fertilization.
Badu: (muttering)Test-tube babies.
Octomom: They are NOT test-tube babies! My babies are immaculate little angel drops from Heaven.
Journalist: Speaking of immaculate conception, Ms. Suleman...this brings me to my next question--there's been a lot of controversy surrounding your giving birth to fourteen children as a single parent. What are your responses to those who criticize single and out-of-wedlock mothers who they perceive as having irresponsibly chosen to have so many children?
Octomom: Well, I was married before, and marriage was kinda gross. My babies are all that I need in my life now, and I can make it on my own...My mother's going to take three extra jobs, and Daddy's going to Iraq to make money defusing bombs and translating hostage negotiations, so everything's going to be just perfect.
Palin: Well, I believe in a two-person married household, where children can grow up properly with a mother and father in the eyes of the Lord.
Journalist: But Governor, didn't your daughter recently have a child out of wedlock?...
Palin: Goshdarnit, you "gotcha" media guys are all over, aren't ya? Well, at least my daughter has her father around to be a part of my grandson's life. With all respect, sir, I think it's unfair how you liberals would rather pick on a high school girl instead of addressing the welfare queens out here who don't uphold monogamous values... I didn't hear you question the voodoo lady!
Badu: Excuse me? Voodoo lady? All my chil'uns are very well-taken care of, thank you very much. And I keep a father-figure or two around the house at all times...ya betta believe that.
Jolie: I don't see what the big fuss is all about. Me, Brad and the nannies are doing fantastically raising six children in an unmarried relationship...
Madge: Meh, marriage is overrated anyway. Men come and men go. They're pretty much just good for one thing anyway--am I right ladies?...Single motherhood is okay, as long as you can afford the babies and, trust me, I can afford a LOT of babies..
Palin: I'm sorry, but all of this heathen talk is making me light-headed...I could use a mooseburger.
Octomom: I'm celibate. Just like Mary.
Journalist: Alrighty. Finally, I'd just like to ask if any of you would consider having more children?
Octomom: Mm, not right now. But if possible, I don't know, maybe again one day if the right sperm donor comes along.
Palin: You betcha. If Todd is up to it, I'd like to be the first woman to give birth in the White House.
Badu: Jah, help us...I'm fine with the three I have, but if the Creator were to send another seed my way, I'd gladly accept Her blessing.
Madge: Mama needs a brand new babe! If you're selling, I'm buying...Angie, see you in India, hottie!
Jolie: Jai ho!
...........................
Apr 17, 2009
Jan 23, 2009
MY PRESIDENT IS BROWN...
I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on this very historic and pivotal moment: the inauguration of the 44th President of the U.S., the first brown-complected President, Barack H. Obama.
I'm partly inspired to write here after reading a reflective anecdote by a good friend of mine who attended the inauguration. Although some friends and family members made the pilgrimage, I didn't have the will to venture to DC to squeeze amongst the throngs of people on the Mall. Instead, I was quite content watching history unfold on a hi-def flatscreen--my uncle's, in fact. He'd invited me over his house to watch the inaugural events, and enjoy the copious media offerings of CNN. I accepted, although I would have been perfectly fine indulging in the ample coverage of cable-less network TV. I awoke fairly early, readied myself, took some time to warm my car and clear the newly fallen snow, and made it over with a comfortable time cushion before the swearing-in ceremony. I brought homemade blueberry muffins for breakfast, and we made a morning, afternoon, and evening out of it. I soon came to find out that it was Obama Day, the self-prescribed holiday of Obamaniacs and hopemongers. It's hard to believe I actually spent a whole day watching television, something I can't recall doing anytime in recent memory--not even on weekends. But I did. And soaked in every minute of it.
Witnessing the throngs of folks amassed on the Mall was not an unfamiliar sight; in fact, it was very reminiscent of my attendance at the Million Man March, hence the sheer masses of people didn't impress me that much. Nor was I extra emotional about the day; I spent my emotions throughout the campaign. I was in a patient state of anticipation. However, I was struck by the outpouring of emotion from so many diverse people. After eight years of governmental hell, it was easy to understand people's elation at this relieving transfer of power. But, frankly, to see the expressions of so many white folks' genuine happiness at the ascension of this Black man and his Black family caught me a bit off guard. Honestly, that seemed alien to me. It made the moment seem that much more triumphant, and I was pleased and inspired to see that. The ensuing political ugliness, the inevitable nay-saying, and virtually guaranteed media fickleness aside, just witnessing the entire Obama lovefest, and visually capturing the image of a Black man walking down the middle of the street happily hand-in-hand with his wife, being guarded and cheered on by thousands of people of all walks of life was... Pretty. Damn. Awesome. The whole day seemed like destiny, like winning the lottery, the Super Bowl, and being crowned Prom King all in the same day type of destiny. Utterly undeniable history.
I'm partly inspired to write here after reading a reflective anecdote by a good friend of mine who attended the inauguration. Although some friends and family members made the pilgrimage, I didn't have the will to venture to DC to squeeze amongst the throngs of people on the Mall. Instead, I was quite content watching history unfold on a hi-def flatscreen--my uncle's, in fact. He'd invited me over his house to watch the inaugural events, and enjoy the copious media offerings of CNN. I accepted, although I would have been perfectly fine indulging in the ample coverage of cable-less network TV. I awoke fairly early, readied myself, took some time to warm my car and clear the newly fallen snow, and made it over with a comfortable time cushion before the swearing-in ceremony. I brought homemade blueberry muffins for breakfast, and we made a morning, afternoon, and evening out of it. I soon came to find out that it was Obama Day, the self-prescribed holiday of Obamaniacs and hopemongers. It's hard to believe I actually spent a whole day watching television, something I can't recall doing anytime in recent memory--not even on weekends. But I did. And soaked in every minute of it.
Witnessing the throngs of folks amassed on the Mall was not an unfamiliar sight; in fact, it was very reminiscent of my attendance at the Million Man March, hence the sheer masses of people didn't impress me that much. Nor was I extra emotional about the day; I spent my emotions throughout the campaign. I was in a patient state of anticipation. However, I was struck by the outpouring of emotion from so many diverse people. After eight years of governmental hell, it was easy to understand people's elation at this relieving transfer of power. But, frankly, to see the expressions of so many white folks' genuine happiness at the ascension of this Black man and his Black family caught me a bit off guard. Honestly, that seemed alien to me. It made the moment seem that much more triumphant, and I was pleased and inspired to see that. The ensuing political ugliness, the inevitable nay-saying, and virtually guaranteed media fickleness aside, just witnessing the entire Obama lovefest, and visually capturing the image of a Black man walking down the middle of the street happily hand-in-hand with his wife, being guarded and cheered on by thousands of people of all walks of life was... Pretty. Damn. Awesome. The whole day seemed like destiny, like winning the lottery, the Super Bowl, and being crowned Prom King all in the same day type of destiny. Utterly undeniable history.
Jun 30, 2008
Dreamcatcher 6/30/08
This entry really has nothing to do with Japan, but I thought I'd share a very rare personal experience:
(5 o'clock hour AM)
I just woke up from a tremendous dream. This was one of the most powerful dreams I've ever had in my life. I very rarely have dreams this powerful and with such depth and lucidness. It was a vision of the future. There were some catastrophic events which took place which resulted in much death of humankind. But it was not a morbid dream, because many people survived, and lived on by uniting in the spirit of harmony and trust. People banded together and supported each other.
There was a great happening which took place in the sky, something very deadly which I had foreknowledge of and had been warning people about, which it seemed most people dismissed until it actually occurred. There was some kind of invisible vortex in the sky which seemed to draw all the clouds together, and then shoot out a wave of energy in many directions, similar to lightning, except different. It seems I had been warning people in my life for some time to the catastrophic event to come, and when it finally happened, I noticed clouds started to draw together in the sky in an eerie slience. I think I was with my mother when the first event happened. We were talking and I looked up and saw the clouds suddenly start to shift towards a focal point in the sky. The sky seemed like it may have been mostly blue and clear at the time, not necessarily overcast. I said to my mother "Look at the sky!" And for some reason I knew to take cover...
There was a sudden release of energy from the sky and many people on the ground were "zapped" by the energy and perished. Naturally, people were shocked and devastated. Even though I had known about the events prior, it was still a frightening experience for me as well. I believe my mother survived the devastation, as she immediately followed my direction to safety. Many others tried to clamor for cover; some survived the "blast," and many didn't. The main difference between myself and everyone else was that I knew what to do to survive--I was mentally prepared. I think I dived to a "safety spot" and was able to evade the first "shock wave." A second energy blast occurred shortly after the first. People again took cover, while others also didn't make it. The vortexes (vortices) and shock waves seemed to happen intermittently over a period of time (perhaps hours, days, or weeks), and every time a forewarning came by way of a sudden and quiet, drawing of the clouds towards some focal point in the sky. When I saw that, I knew it was time to rush for cover. For some reason, I seemed to possess some kind of digital 3D map which pinpointed the exact locations of where to position yourself as to avoid the shock wave from the sky. However, I suspect I may have accessed this information mentally, as I don't recall having any portable computerized device with me which could store such information.
Soon after the catastrophes struck, a certain type of like-minded/like-spirited people somehow sought each other out and came together. It seemed like all of the people I encountered were relatively young, attractive Black men and women. None of us seemed to have been previously acquainted with each other, but there seemed to be an immediate trust and harmony between us. Even though we began to coalesce into a group, most people seemed lost and confused about the future and what they were supposed to do. Somehow, I seemed to emerge as a vocal leader/instructor, not because I had the ambition to, but because it was necessary at the time. I may have been just one of a number of leader figures. Many people seemed gripped by uncertainty in light of the recent chaos, and I began simply instructing people how to heal themselves with sound, using their own voices and mouths to project sound vibrations such as "Aaahh" towards their comrades, in order to heal wounds and illnesses, whatever they may be. There was a specific way to do it, and the instruction was of a very serious and urgent nature. I remember correcting people's individual healing techniques, to ensure they would have proper results. Everyone seemed to listen to my instruction intently and without protest. They barely knew me, but they somehow knew that I knew what I was talking about. I was teaching the sound vibration technique as a prelude to more advanced healing techniques--using one's palms to heal others by transmission of energy through the hands (Qi Gong).
The reason I possessed the knowledge of healing was because I had been studying certain healing sciences independently prior to the great catastrophes which affected humanity. Though I'm not sure the expanse of time covered in the dream, it seems like the group of survivors that banded together was with each other for a period of time. During the down periods, people socialized and interacted freely, although when the time for action arose, the collective group was easily rallied by its more vocal members.
Although this account of my dream may sound very much like "sci-fi," the events in the dream didn't feel like science fiction. The dream had much more of a spiritual feeling, as people of like spiritual awareness became drawn together in order to help each other survive. Although many people were unsure what to do, people didn't second-guess the counsel of the leaders such as myself...
(5 o'clock hour AM)
I just woke up from a tremendous dream. This was one of the most powerful dreams I've ever had in my life. I very rarely have dreams this powerful and with such depth and lucidness. It was a vision of the future. There were some catastrophic events which took place which resulted in much death of humankind. But it was not a morbid dream, because many people survived, and lived on by uniting in the spirit of harmony and trust. People banded together and supported each other.
There was a great happening which took place in the sky, something very deadly which I had foreknowledge of and had been warning people about, which it seemed most people dismissed until it actually occurred. There was some kind of invisible vortex in the sky which seemed to draw all the clouds together, and then shoot out a wave of energy in many directions, similar to lightning, except different. It seems I had been warning people in my life for some time to the catastrophic event to come, and when it finally happened, I noticed clouds started to draw together in the sky in an eerie slience. I think I was with my mother when the first event happened. We were talking and I looked up and saw the clouds suddenly start to shift towards a focal point in the sky. The sky seemed like it may have been mostly blue and clear at the time, not necessarily overcast. I said to my mother "Look at the sky!" And for some reason I knew to take cover...
There was a sudden release of energy from the sky and many people on the ground were "zapped" by the energy and perished. Naturally, people were shocked and devastated. Even though I had known about the events prior, it was still a frightening experience for me as well. I believe my mother survived the devastation, as she immediately followed my direction to safety. Many others tried to clamor for cover; some survived the "blast," and many didn't. The main difference between myself and everyone else was that I knew what to do to survive--I was mentally prepared. I think I dived to a "safety spot" and was able to evade the first "shock wave." A second energy blast occurred shortly after the first. People again took cover, while others also didn't make it. The vortexes (vortices) and shock waves seemed to happen intermittently over a period of time (perhaps hours, days, or weeks), and every time a forewarning came by way of a sudden and quiet, drawing of the clouds towards some focal point in the sky. When I saw that, I knew it was time to rush for cover. For some reason, I seemed to possess some kind of digital 3D map which pinpointed the exact locations of where to position yourself as to avoid the shock wave from the sky. However, I suspect I may have accessed this information mentally, as I don't recall having any portable computerized device with me which could store such information.
Soon after the catastrophes struck, a certain type of like-minded/like-spirited people somehow sought each other out and came together. It seemed like all of the people I encountered were relatively young, attractive Black men and women. None of us seemed to have been previously acquainted with each other, but there seemed to be an immediate trust and harmony between us. Even though we began to coalesce into a group, most people seemed lost and confused about the future and what they were supposed to do. Somehow, I seemed to emerge as a vocal leader/instructor, not because I had the ambition to, but because it was necessary at the time. I may have been just one of a number of leader figures. Many people seemed gripped by uncertainty in light of the recent chaos, and I began simply instructing people how to heal themselves with sound, using their own voices and mouths to project sound vibrations such as "Aaahh" towards their comrades, in order to heal wounds and illnesses, whatever they may be. There was a specific way to do it, and the instruction was of a very serious and urgent nature. I remember correcting people's individual healing techniques, to ensure they would have proper results. Everyone seemed to listen to my instruction intently and without protest. They barely knew me, but they somehow knew that I knew what I was talking about. I was teaching the sound vibration technique as a prelude to more advanced healing techniques--using one's palms to heal others by transmission of energy through the hands (Qi Gong).
The reason I possessed the knowledge of healing was because I had been studying certain healing sciences independently prior to the great catastrophes which affected humanity. Though I'm not sure the expanse of time covered in the dream, it seems like the group of survivors that banded together was with each other for a period of time. During the down periods, people socialized and interacted freely, although when the time for action arose, the collective group was easily rallied by its more vocal members.
Although this account of my dream may sound very much like "sci-fi," the events in the dream didn't feel like science fiction. The dream had much more of a spiritual feeling, as people of like spiritual awareness became drawn together in order to help each other survive. Although many people were unsure what to do, people didn't second-guess the counsel of the leaders such as myself...
Feb 5, 2008
...
Hmm.
How do I start this? At this moment, I'm half-laughing at myself, half-scratching my head. How do I begin to explain to my long-lost, abandoned 3.5 readers what in the freak happened to KGJ, and how I hope you can find it in your hearts to...scratch that...
Um, let's just say that with this entry, I officially forgive myself. Crazily, I've been MIA from the blog-iverse for over a year. Damn. I'll just offer this simple maxim:
"Life happens."
Surely, y'all can understand that and will accept my masked apology. Take me back. Please baby, baby, please. Now, I'll attempt to scan the highlights of the 2006-2007 KGJ timeline:
So stay tuned. From here on out, I won't promise you popsicles, but I pledge to make an effort to lend my humble yet stellar prosaic anecdotes to your world. Thanks for welcoming me back. It feels good to be home!
How do I start this? At this moment, I'm half-laughing at myself, half-scratching my head. How do I begin to explain to my long-lost, abandoned 3.5 readers what in the freak happened to KGJ, and how I hope you can find it in your hearts to...scratch that...
Um, let's just say that with this entry, I officially forgive myself. Crazily, I've been MIA from the blog-iverse for over a year. Damn. I'll just offer this simple maxim:
"Life happens."
Surely, y'all can understand that and will accept my masked apology. Take me back. Please baby, baby, please. Now, I'll attempt to scan the highlights of the 2006-2007 KGJ timeline:
- After over 3 years of living together, my white American, very liberal-minded roommate, Aaron, decided to get engaged and move out, only giving me about a month's notice to decide on where to live.
- After dispiriting bouts of housing discrimination from the Japanese company which managed my building (the one I'd dutifully paid rent to for over 3 years) as well as a white American-run housing agency (which I was referred to by my company, I might add), I was forced to leave my apartment, helplessly having to concede to lesser housing accomodations in, literally, the only apartment building in the city (commonly derided as the "gaijin ghetto" by its inhabitants) which accepted foreign residents without the endorsement of a Japanese guarantor. Said roommate got a sobering civics lesson in racism, inspiring a sense of guilt and a humble apology to me for my troubles. I accepted.
- I attempted to live with my girlfriend, who initially was eager at the idea, but lost the nerve after finally revealing her relationship with her African-American boyfriend (yours truly, natch) to her very Japanese parents after having dated almost 3 years, simultaneously announcing her intention to leave the nest for the first time in life to go live with said boyfriend. Whoa. Talk about dropping a bomb (no pun!). This culminated in a discussion with her father, who very level-headedly advised her to try living independently before moving in with a significant other. I actually kinda agreed with the man. Subsequently, said girlfriend got cold feet and backed out of the deal, leaving said boyfriend hanging with a 2-bedroom apartment and double his previous rent. I accepted her apology also.
- One day, after a discussion confronting the reality of said boyfriend's ultimate desire to leave Japan for good, and said girlfriend's desire to remain in Japan, for good, said boyfriend and girlfriend sadly but amicably decided to become just friends.
- Bachelorhood ensued, and "clubbin'" became a weekend mainstay.
- As a 50th birthday tribute, I flew my moms over for a couple weeks during a sweltering summer break to see, smell, hear, touch, and taste the many offerings of Nagoya, Japan. It was a memorable visit.
- Capoeira training and play continued. I got a new cord and my skills improved. I heart capoeira!
- One of my worst fears came true, and I had to get emergency dental care in Japan, after suffering a major toothache. Fortunately, An American friend recommended his family dentist, Dr. Masuda, who turned out to be excellent, could speak limited English, and had one of the nicest dental offices I've ever been in. He saved my tooth as well as some other work. I was also shocked to discover how cheap dental care is compared to the U.S.--even without insurance; I figure I may have had close to $1K worth (US) of work done for less than $200. I gave Dr. Masuda's craft and chairside manner A's overall. The only thing I couldn't follow was his advice not to floss, claiming that flossing damages the gums. My reaction was "Mm..Perhaps a little, but what about cleaning out the cavity-causing crap from between your teeth?" Apparently, most Japanese people do not floss, though I know some do, as I've seen floss sold in pharmacies. I guess the habit of not flossing is a Japanese thing--I wouldn't understand.
- I performed in an international music festival in downtown Nagoya, called Spring Fest 2007, to promote international culture and ecology. I did a big set, rocked a crowd filled with friends, and sold my CDs as well. It was the type of venue I'd dreamed and struggled to be a part of since I'd come to Japan 5 years earlier. Ironically, that dream would finally come true, albeit 2 weeks before I left Japan for good.
- That's right. I said "Sayonara" to many great friends and Planet Japan after 5 challenging, educational, and awesome years abroad. Many factors came into my decision to leave, but most simply, the time had come, and the itch for newness and change had been intensifying over the previous year or so.
So stay tuned. From here on out, I won't promise you popsicles, but I pledge to make an effort to lend my humble yet stellar prosaic anecdotes to your world. Thanks for welcoming me back. It feels good to be home!
Dec 21, 2006
BEWARE THE BLACK FOREIGNER!
(The following is based on actual experiences and events.)
RE: What to Do If You Encounter a Black Foreigner at Night (safety tactics for poor, defenseless, sexually irresistible Japanese women In distress)
The following safety tips were compiled for you--a poor, defenseless, Japanese woman, a probable victim, in the unfortunate event you should be found trekking the city streets during the evening hours, and encounter any dark-complexioned male subject of considerable height and build, henceforth referred to as "Black Foreigner."
It should be noted that the Black Foreigner has flown, sailed, and/or swam thousands of miles from his native country with the sole intention of victimizing you: a poor, meek, defenseless Japanese lady. You are undoubtedly sexually irresistible to every Black Foreigner. When on the streets at night, it would be foolhardy to assume that the Black Foreigner is up to any honest activity; in fact, he is constantly plotting ways to victimize you, the Japanese woman. The Black Foreigner is extremely dangerous, especially if he is wearing black articles of clothing, not limited to hats, gloves, shoes, or jackets, which undoubtedly increase his level of dangerous Blackness.
Please do not assume the Black Foreigner walking the streets in the evening hours, is returning home from work or running an errand, like yourself. Do not assume that bookbags, briefcases, nor plastic bags with shop logos have any work-related articles nor food in them. They most likely conceal the remains of his previous Japanese female victim. Therefore, exercise great caution when employing one or several of the following survival tactics:
1. Run! Even though there may be no train or bus station in sight, pretend to be rushing to catch a train or bus, as you sprint past and away from Black Foreigner. While escaping, please beware collisions with other Japanese pedestrians and bikers who are not yet aware of impending threat of Black Foreigner. Do not look back at Black Foreigner. (Note: Studies show that, comparatively, Japanese women are proficient at outrunning Black Foreigners, who are standing still or walking. Moreover, a sprinting Japanese female victim versus a Black Foreigner who's standing still or walking, will escape roughly *99.9% of the time, even in high-heeled shoes, thus making running a virtually failsafe survival tactic.) *(This statistic inverts in case the Black Foreigner is running also.)
2. Ninja Invisibility Technique. Hold your breath while standing still. According to Japanese legend, this ancient technique was employed by ninja rebels during the feudal eras, rendering themselves invisible to the naked eye, allowing them to evade pursuers undetected. To enhance invisibility, please avoid eye contact with Black Foreigner.
3. Cross the street. If close to an intersection, proceed to cross to the opposite side of the street immediately. If Black Foreigner approaches while traffic light is red, use Ninja Invisibility Technique.
4. Fake a phone call. Pretend to call someone/ actually call someone on your cell phone. Speak loudly. Doing this creates the illusion of a phone conversation with an "audible witness" to the potential victimization that is about to transpire, although audible witness can do nothing to assist you in event of actual victimization.
5. Invisible Sneak. If unable to retreat in the opposite direction, try to sneak past Black Foreigner briskly, while employing the Ninja Invisibility Technique, while looking at the ground. Because the probable victim is moving, this tactic will only render one partially invisible, although looking downwards away from Black Foreigner strengthens the invisibility factor. Beware wandering trees, lampposts, street signs, etc.
6. Keep a personal bodyguard. Activate Pokemon character attached to your cell phone. A solid shock from Pikachu can stun your probable assailant long enough for you to make your escape.
7. Create distance. Also, if probable victim is unable to retreat in the opposite direction of travel, maintain your direction while veering your path of travel away from oncoming Black Foreigner at the widest possible arc. Doing this will create distance and a "safety zone" between yourself and your probable assailant. The establishment of one's personal safety zone is critical in Japan's congested urban settings, even if safety zone requires probable victim to dash into the street, near moving traffic, (CAUTION: Dashing into streets of moving traffic increases the risk of being struck by oncoming vehicles; however, presence of oncoming Black Foreigner may pose greater risk of stress anxiety due to worry, panic, and xenophobia.)
8. Follow your instincts. Surprisingly, your most primal instinct may compel you to ask Black Foreigner out to dinner, perhaps even date, then marry him. Some consider this a strategy of reverse psychology to disarm the Black Foreigner's dangerous Blackness, while others disagree. However, this tactic poses great risk of injury from probable victim's parents, particularly Papa.
(These safety tips are sponsored by the Kokugaijin Civil Safety & Crime Prevention Committee (Co-sponsored by Playboy brand loose socks, Louis Vuitton brand mobile phone decals, and Chapstick brand green-tea flavored lip gloss))
RE: What to Do If You Encounter a Black Foreigner at Night (safety tactics for poor, defenseless, sexually irresistible Japanese women In distress)
The following safety tips were compiled for you--a poor, defenseless, Japanese woman, a probable victim, in the unfortunate event you should be found trekking the city streets during the evening hours, and encounter any dark-complexioned male subject of considerable height and build, henceforth referred to as "Black Foreigner."
It should be noted that the Black Foreigner has flown, sailed, and/or swam thousands of miles from his native country with the sole intention of victimizing you: a poor, meek, defenseless Japanese lady. You are undoubtedly sexually irresistible to every Black Foreigner. When on the streets at night, it would be foolhardy to assume that the Black Foreigner is up to any honest activity; in fact, he is constantly plotting ways to victimize you, the Japanese woman. The Black Foreigner is extremely dangerous, especially if he is wearing black articles of clothing, not limited to hats, gloves, shoes, or jackets, which undoubtedly increase his level of dangerous Blackness.
Please do not assume the Black Foreigner walking the streets in the evening hours, is returning home from work or running an errand, like yourself. Do not assume that bookbags, briefcases, nor plastic bags with shop logos have any work-related articles nor food in them. They most likely conceal the remains of his previous Japanese female victim. Therefore, exercise great caution when employing one or several of the following survival tactics:
1. Run! Even though there may be no train or bus station in sight, pretend to be rushing to catch a train or bus, as you sprint past and away from Black Foreigner. While escaping, please beware collisions with other Japanese pedestrians and bikers who are not yet aware of impending threat of Black Foreigner. Do not look back at Black Foreigner. (Note: Studies show that, comparatively, Japanese women are proficient at outrunning Black Foreigners, who are standing still or walking. Moreover, a sprinting Japanese female victim versus a Black Foreigner who's standing still or walking, will escape roughly *99.9% of the time, even in high-heeled shoes, thus making running a virtually failsafe survival tactic.) *(This statistic inverts in case the Black Foreigner is running also.)
2. Ninja Invisibility Technique. Hold your breath while standing still. According to Japanese legend, this ancient technique was employed by ninja rebels during the feudal eras, rendering themselves invisible to the naked eye, allowing them to evade pursuers undetected. To enhance invisibility, please avoid eye contact with Black Foreigner.
3. Cross the street. If close to an intersection, proceed to cross to the opposite side of the street immediately. If Black Foreigner approaches while traffic light is red, use Ninja Invisibility Technique.
4. Fake a phone call. Pretend to call someone/ actually call someone on your cell phone. Speak loudly. Doing this creates the illusion of a phone conversation with an "audible witness" to the potential victimization that is about to transpire, although audible witness can do nothing to assist you in event of actual victimization.
5. Invisible Sneak. If unable to retreat in the opposite direction, try to sneak past Black Foreigner briskly, while employing the Ninja Invisibility Technique, while looking at the ground. Because the probable victim is moving, this tactic will only render one partially invisible, although looking downwards away from Black Foreigner strengthens the invisibility factor. Beware wandering trees, lampposts, street signs, etc.
6. Keep a personal bodyguard. Activate Pokemon character attached to your cell phone. A solid shock from Pikachu can stun your probable assailant long enough for you to make your escape.
7. Create distance. Also, if probable victim is unable to retreat in the opposite direction of travel, maintain your direction while veering your path of travel away from oncoming Black Foreigner at the widest possible arc. Doing this will create distance and a "safety zone" between yourself and your probable assailant. The establishment of one's personal safety zone is critical in Japan's congested urban settings, even if safety zone requires probable victim to dash into the street, near moving traffic, (CAUTION: Dashing into streets of moving traffic increases the risk of being struck by oncoming vehicles; however, presence of oncoming Black Foreigner may pose greater risk of stress anxiety due to worry, panic, and xenophobia.)
8. Follow your instincts. Surprisingly, your most primal instinct may compel you to ask Black Foreigner out to dinner, perhaps even date, then marry him. Some consider this a strategy of reverse psychology to disarm the Black Foreigner's dangerous Blackness, while others disagree. However, this tactic poses great risk of injury from probable victim's parents, particularly Papa.
(These safety tips are sponsored by the Kokugaijin Civil Safety & Crime Prevention Committee (Co-sponsored by Playboy brand loose socks, Louis Vuitton brand mobile phone decals, and Chapstick brand green-tea flavored lip gloss))
Feb 2, 2006
JAPAN'S JIGGABOO
I've shared a few anecdotes with you regarding race and the Japanese society's take on Black people. I think I may have mentioned to some of you before about the depiction of Black tv personalities in Japan.
There's an American ex-NFL washout named Bob Sapp who came to Japan around the same time I did and became an overnight celebrity by flexing his Hulky 350+ lb. frame, screaming like an animal and making scary faces on Japanese variety programs. Additionally, Bob Sapp couldn't speak Japanese, and thus was relegated mainly to being a living caricature. He adopted the alias 'The Beast,' upon which he entered the ranks of K-1, Japan's mixed-martial arts fighting league, while simultaneously doing a multitude of endorsements, one of which was for a Morinaga brand banana ice cream sandwich with a limited edition wrapper with an image of him shirtless eating a banana. I was so appalled when I saw the ice cream package in the local grocery store, that I bought it just to take back to Chicago to show my folks. Bob Sapp has since passed the peak of his success and though still well-known, is a mildly popular celebrity. But since that time, a new, more disturbing Black caricature has emerged. His name is Bobby Ologun.
In short, Bobby Ologun is a Nigerian who speaks Japanese fluently. I did some background research on him and read that he initially came to Japan to work for his father's import/export trading business. He first achieved tv notoriety by playing a backup stooge to a famous white American tv celeb named Thane Camus (whom I actually met in person last year). Bobby's silly antics and infantile babbling would often prompt scolding and sometimes slaps in the head from Thane. Since 2004, however, Bobby Ologun has taken on a level of celebrity status all his own.
Bobby perfectly fits the commonly accepted Japanese stereotype of a Black male: tall, bald, dark-skinned, and with a large build. Bobby is renown for his foolish antics. He speaks broken Japanese in a slow baritone drone, almost as one who suffers from retardation might, often jumbling and mispronouncing words to the befuddlement/amusement of his hosts. He has been seen making ape-like faces and even bulging the whites of his eyes like the American blackface and jigaboo images of old. Apparently, and to the dismay of many Black foreigners in Japan, Bobby is etching out a living with his buffoonery and playing the centerpiece to the gamut of Japan's national variety and comedy tv shows. And like Bob Sapp, Bobby has also become a prizefighter in the K-1 league.
Below is a link to a very recent tv clip that's currently a hot topic on some expat message boards of a popular variety show featuring Bobby Ologun and Japan's most beloved pop singer, Ayumi Hamasaki.
Bobby Ologun meets Ayumi Hamasaki
The clip is about 12 minutes long. Here, Bobby doesn't display any of the particular "gorilla behavior" he's become known for, though he does a good job playing the fool. Take note of his vocal tone and manner of speech; also, read the English subtitles carefully. He persistently feigns ignorance and intentionally fumbles his Japanese, evoking ridicule from the girl singer and the program hosts. This may be an obvious act to some, however, consider that Bobby is only one of maybe 2-3 Black men found ANYWHERE on Japanese national tv programs, so just ponder the impact this kind of image has on broad Japanese perceptions of Black Africans/Black men in general. Most people have never been exposed to non-Japanese people of any descent, so you can imagine millions of viewers taking their foreign cultural cues from this wayward African. You'd be hard pressed to find a Japanese person with a tv who doesn't know who Bobby Ologun is. To re-emphasize this point, I've even had some of my more mischievous boy students call me "Bobby" in jest--something I didn't take too kindly to. In fact, other Black male teachers I know (of various nationalites) have also experienced being called "Bobby" by some of their respective students at their respective schools. Obviously, I look nothing like this guy, other than being brown-skinned. This occurred merely because kids automatically associated the only Black male person they know in real-life to the one Black male image they see on tv at home--Bobby Ologun. I find this frustrating.
With that being said, I'm grateful I have the present opportunity as an African-American man to make a positive impression on a generation of Japanese kids through teaching English, even if the ones under my influence number in the hundreds as opposed to Bobby's hundreds of thousands. Especially this school year, I feel like I've earned most of my students' respect as a teacher and perhaps their admiration as well. In that regard, I believe I've also earned the respect of most of the teachers I work with, having had made a predominantly positive impression. Working in Japanese public schools has taught me a lot about the power of image, particularly within this society. Knowing what I know now, I could never go out like Bobby.
There's an American ex-NFL washout named Bob Sapp who came to Japan around the same time I did and became an overnight celebrity by flexing his Hulky 350+ lb. frame, screaming like an animal and making scary faces on Japanese variety programs. Additionally, Bob Sapp couldn't speak Japanese, and thus was relegated mainly to being a living caricature. He adopted the alias 'The Beast,' upon which he entered the ranks of K-1, Japan's mixed-martial arts fighting league, while simultaneously doing a multitude of endorsements, one of which was for a Morinaga brand banana ice cream sandwich with a limited edition wrapper with an image of him shirtless eating a banana. I was so appalled when I saw the ice cream package in the local grocery store, that I bought it just to take back to Chicago to show my folks. Bob Sapp has since passed the peak of his success and though still well-known, is a mildly popular celebrity. But since that time, a new, more disturbing Black caricature has emerged. His name is Bobby Ologun.
In short, Bobby Ologun is a Nigerian who speaks Japanese fluently. I did some background research on him and read that he initially came to Japan to work for his father's import/export trading business. He first achieved tv notoriety by playing a backup stooge to a famous white American tv celeb named Thane Camus (whom I actually met in person last year). Bobby's silly antics and infantile babbling would often prompt scolding and sometimes slaps in the head from Thane. Since 2004, however, Bobby Ologun has taken on a level of celebrity status all his own.
Bobby perfectly fits the commonly accepted Japanese stereotype of a Black male: tall, bald, dark-skinned, and with a large build. Bobby is renown for his foolish antics. He speaks broken Japanese in a slow baritone drone, almost as one who suffers from retardation might, often jumbling and mispronouncing words to the befuddlement/amusement of his hosts. He has been seen making ape-like faces and even bulging the whites of his eyes like the American blackface and jigaboo images of old. Apparently, and to the dismay of many Black foreigners in Japan, Bobby is etching out a living with his buffoonery and playing the centerpiece to the gamut of Japan's national variety and comedy tv shows. And like Bob Sapp, Bobby has also become a prizefighter in the K-1 league.
Below is a link to a very recent tv clip that's currently a hot topic on some expat message boards of a popular variety show featuring Bobby Ologun and Japan's most beloved pop singer, Ayumi Hamasaki.
Bobby Ologun meets Ayumi Hamasaki
The clip is about 12 minutes long. Here, Bobby doesn't display any of the particular "gorilla behavior" he's become known for, though he does a good job playing the fool. Take note of his vocal tone and manner of speech; also, read the English subtitles carefully. He persistently feigns ignorance and intentionally fumbles his Japanese, evoking ridicule from the girl singer and the program hosts. This may be an obvious act to some, however, consider that Bobby is only one of maybe 2-3 Black men found ANYWHERE on Japanese national tv programs, so just ponder the impact this kind of image has on broad Japanese perceptions of Black Africans/Black men in general. Most people have never been exposed to non-Japanese people of any descent, so you can imagine millions of viewers taking their foreign cultural cues from this wayward African. You'd be hard pressed to find a Japanese person with a tv who doesn't know who Bobby Ologun is. To re-emphasize this point, I've even had some of my more mischievous boy students call me "Bobby" in jest--something I didn't take too kindly to. In fact, other Black male teachers I know (of various nationalites) have also experienced being called "Bobby" by some of their respective students at their respective schools. Obviously, I look nothing like this guy, other than being brown-skinned. This occurred merely because kids automatically associated the only Black male person they know in real-life to the one Black male image they see on tv at home--Bobby Ologun. I find this frustrating.
With that being said, I'm grateful I have the present opportunity as an African-American man to make a positive impression on a generation of Japanese kids through teaching English, even if the ones under my influence number in the hundreds as opposed to Bobby's hundreds of thousands. Especially this school year, I feel like I've earned most of my students' respect as a teacher and perhaps their admiration as well. In that regard, I believe I've also earned the respect of most of the teachers I work with, having had made a predominantly positive impression. Working in Japanese public schools has taught me a lot about the power of image, particularly within this society. Knowing what I know now, I could never go out like Bobby.
Jan 31, 2006
"SEPTEMBER"
Today at lunch, a 5th grade boy, Noguchi, asked me if I knew of Earth, Wind, and Fire. I was like "Yeah! How do you know about Earth, Wind, and Fire?" I was caught totally off-guard. I mean I've taught kids who barely knew who Michael Jordan was, and here I am eating my rice with fish sprinkles, with 11 year olds quizzing me on their favorite anime, when out of the clear blue one boy asks me about a legendary Soul group from back before I was born even. I was impressed to say the least.
Just to test if he was faking the funk, I asked him what his favorite EW&F song was. He answered, "September." Wow.
Just to test if he was faking the funk, I asked him what his favorite EW&F song was. He answered, "September." Wow.
Dec 19, 2005
SNOW!!!
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.
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 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!
Dec 16, 2004
MATA RAINEN (SEE YOU NEXT YEAR)
Today marks my last day of work for the year 2004. Feels good. I enjoyed an easy-breezy week at Elementary school and had a good time. Today I had a special class with one of the first grade classes. Class 1-2 held a little Christmas party, and when I arrived they adroened me with a handmade paper necklace and crown, and started calling me king. No, seriously. I got a stack full of handmade Xmas cards with thank-you messages and pictures attached. Without trying to be mushy about things, I'd have to say they were in fact adorable.
After that, we took a few group pictures and then we headed off to the freezing-cold school gym to play an earnest match of Dodgeball. Dodgeball is a serious sport in Japan, and I respect that. I was drafted to the white team, and was elected to play the tip-off to my slight height advantage over the 5-6 year-old field. Surprisingly, I did meet their expectations and managed to tip the super-malleable turqoise dodgeball to my teammates. The game ensued, in which I got popped and sent to the supporting sidelines twice, but was able to redeem my draft value by taking out countless opposing players, including Ms. Yoshida, the young homeroom teacher who played for the red team. In the vein of a Terrell Owens, and to the dismay of the whites at least, I tauntingly moonwalked across the mid-court line unscathed.
We won.
After that, we took a few group pictures and then we headed off to the freezing-cold school gym to play an earnest match of Dodgeball. Dodgeball is a serious sport in Japan, and I respect that. I was drafted to the white team, and was elected to play the tip-off to my slight height advantage over the 5-6 year-old field. Surprisingly, I did meet their expectations and managed to tip the super-malleable turqoise dodgeball to my teammates. The game ensued, in which I got popped and sent to the supporting sidelines twice, but was able to redeem my draft value by taking out countless opposing players, including Ms. Yoshida, the young homeroom teacher who played for the red team. In the vein of a Terrell Owens, and to the dismay of the whites at least, I tauntingly moonwalked across the mid-court line unscathed.
We won.
Dec 5, 2004
BAMBOO SHOOTS & LOTUS ROOTS
That's what I had for Thanksgiving. While you all were stuffing your big, fat heads with juicy fowl, bubbling mac'n'cheese, butter-laden homemade rolls and the coronary-clogging like, I had my basic school lunch fare packed with highly fibrous, near-flavorless domestic vegetables. I'm not crying though.
So maintaining recent tradition, I enjoyed yet another turkey-less T-day. This year officially brings me to a whopping ONE Thanksgiving spent with my hometown kinfolk in the last ten years. Wow. Turkey in my life has gone the way of the dodo. Fast.
Alas, it's December (already?). With 2 more weeks until the great 13-hour trans-Pacific voyage. Kinda looking forward to the crapload of shopping I need to do, plus all types of eating to catch up on. Just hope I can get it all done this time.
Speaking of eats, I freaked a new flavor of curry this weekend: pumpkin. Yeah. I got the idea from a conversation I had with one of my JHS girl students. Actually, I'd had the idea before, but never quite summoned the moxie to actually purchase one of the 1/3rd cut little green-skinned Japanese pumpkin chunks that have been on sale at the local grocery store since the fall produce debuted. Once my fantasy recipe was affirmed by a 14-year old, I promptly picked up a pumpkin chunk for a mere 100+ yen (about US $1). The price was a plus, considering how obscenely expensive produce is in this country. For example, the other day, bags of 6 red Fuji apples were "on sale" for 398 yen (just barely under US $4). On Sale. 6. ...Yeah, so getting about half a pumpkin (albeit a small one) for a buck was a STEAL, basically.
More importantly, what I did with that pumpkin was groundbreaking for my culinary repertoire. I found out from Sa that you don't even have to peel the skin off--just cook and eat the whole thing. And she was right; I diced the fruit up, and it it melted right into my curry, peel and all. The consistency was nice, much creamier than normal curry, purée-like even. A very subdued pumpkin flavor with all the usual goodies i put in but yummy nonetheless. Along with the standard sticky white rice, I'll be feeding on this stuff 'til winter break, easily.
So maintaining recent tradition, I enjoyed yet another turkey-less T-day. This year officially brings me to a whopping ONE Thanksgiving spent with my hometown kinfolk in the last ten years. Wow. Turkey in my life has gone the way of the dodo. Fast.
Alas, it's December (already?). With 2 more weeks until the great 13-hour trans-Pacific voyage. Kinda looking forward to the crapload of shopping I need to do, plus all types of eating to catch up on. Just hope I can get it all done this time.
Speaking of eats, I freaked a new flavor of curry this weekend: pumpkin. Yeah. I got the idea from a conversation I had with one of my JHS girl students. Actually, I'd had the idea before, but never quite summoned the moxie to actually purchase one of the 1/3rd cut little green-skinned Japanese pumpkin chunks that have been on sale at the local grocery store since the fall produce debuted. Once my fantasy recipe was affirmed by a 14-year old, I promptly picked up a pumpkin chunk for a mere 100+ yen (about US $1). The price was a plus, considering how obscenely expensive produce is in this country. For example, the other day, bags of 6 red Fuji apples were "on sale" for 398 yen (just barely under US $4). On Sale. 6. ...Yeah, so getting about half a pumpkin (albeit a small one) for a buck was a STEAL, basically.
More importantly, what I did with that pumpkin was groundbreaking for my culinary repertoire. I found out from Sa that you don't even have to peel the skin off--just cook and eat the whole thing. And she was right; I diced the fruit up, and it it melted right into my curry, peel and all. The consistency was nice, much creamier than normal curry, purée-like even. A very subdued pumpkin flavor with all the usual goodies i put in but yummy nonetheless. Along with the standard sticky white rice, I'll be feeding on this stuff 'til winter break, easily.
Nov 19, 2004
SCHOOLED-OUT
TGIF. Had a helluva week this week. Yesterday and today we had citywide school observations and presentations to thousands of visitors, mostly teachers from other prefectures and from within the local board of education. It was quite a monumental affair, as they'd been planning for this event all year long. I had a couple of observed English classes which went pretty well. I think there was more pressure on the kids than on myself as they had to do most of the work in class. They did a good job though, which made myself, my co-teachers and my school look good, at least as far as English education goes anyway.
The most grueling part of the two day event was the lecture and panel discussion series all teachers had to sit through. Between both days, I had to sit through a whopping 7 hours of lectures in unheated gymnasiums. Absolutely senseless. We were freezing our butts off, and most of the audience was asleep at least through half of the lectures. At least the first big presentation I sat through yesterday involved a panel discussion about English education, which was of some relevance and interest, and although it was entirely in Japanese. I stayed awake and tried to follow as much as I could. But today, i had to attend another school's big presentation about math education. It made no sense why I had to be there, and I didn't understand a damn thing they were talking about, so I made an effort to sleep as much of the boring, freezing 3.5 hours away as I could. Even Yamada-sensei, who was sitting next to me, nodded off a good 2 hours worth. Afterwards he asked me was he snoring.
Not to mention my elementary and junior high schools had a joint drinking party last night. Schoolteachers getting drunk on the Thursday night when they have to be up early for work the next day doesn't make much sense, but hey, it's a Japanese thing--you wouldn't understand. And I still don't. Anyway, I went only because it was a special occasion, and it was the first time my 2 schools had a joint party--which was roughly 50 people. I already knew going in I wasn't going to get the 5,000 yen's (about $50 US) worth of food or drink which I had to pay to attend the 2.5 hour affair, but I didn't want to disappoint the elementary folks, plus, I kinda wanted to show off to the JHS teachers how well I got along with the elementary teachers.
As I expected, the food fare was meager, small servings of sushi and assorted delicacies--oh, everybody was served ONE crab leg. But outside of the beer, the sumtotal of all the food didn't put a dent in my appetite. Speaking of beer, there were plenty red-faced teachers that night. The designated drivers drank tall glasses of bland iced oolong tea, while everyone else cut loose on the beer. People kept refilling my glass, but I don't think I even got a good buzz. The principal of my JHS came over to my table all rowdy, slapping me on the back trying to challenge me to beer shots. Dude is like 65 yo. telling me he can down 10 bottles on his own. He filled my glass, we did a "Kanpai," then we knocked one back together, but not before he dribbled beer on his expensive suit. He had me cracking up. And not breaking the tradition of Japanese punctuality, that party ended precisely at 9pm.
Alas, it's Friday and I can finally relax. One more month til vacation!
The most grueling part of the two day event was the lecture and panel discussion series all teachers had to sit through. Between both days, I had to sit through a whopping 7 hours of lectures in unheated gymnasiums. Absolutely senseless. We were freezing our butts off, and most of the audience was asleep at least through half of the lectures. At least the first big presentation I sat through yesterday involved a panel discussion about English education, which was of some relevance and interest, and although it was entirely in Japanese. I stayed awake and tried to follow as much as I could. But today, i had to attend another school's big presentation about math education. It made no sense why I had to be there, and I didn't understand a damn thing they were talking about, so I made an effort to sleep as much of the boring, freezing 3.5 hours away as I could. Even Yamada-sensei, who was sitting next to me, nodded off a good 2 hours worth. Afterwards he asked me was he snoring.
Not to mention my elementary and junior high schools had a joint drinking party last night. Schoolteachers getting drunk on the Thursday night when they have to be up early for work the next day doesn't make much sense, but hey, it's a Japanese thing--you wouldn't understand. And I still don't. Anyway, I went only because it was a special occasion, and it was the first time my 2 schools had a joint party--which was roughly 50 people. I already knew going in I wasn't going to get the 5,000 yen's (about $50 US) worth of food or drink which I had to pay to attend the 2.5 hour affair, but I didn't want to disappoint the elementary folks, plus, I kinda wanted to show off to the JHS teachers how well I got along with the elementary teachers.
As I expected, the food fare was meager, small servings of sushi and assorted delicacies--oh, everybody was served ONE crab leg. But outside of the beer, the sumtotal of all the food didn't put a dent in my appetite. Speaking of beer, there were plenty red-faced teachers that night. The designated drivers drank tall glasses of bland iced oolong tea, while everyone else cut loose on the beer. People kept refilling my glass, but I don't think I even got a good buzz. The principal of my JHS came over to my table all rowdy, slapping me on the back trying to challenge me to beer shots. Dude is like 65 yo. telling me he can down 10 bottles on his own. He filled my glass, we did a "Kanpai," then we knocked one back together, but not before he dribbled beer on his expensive suit. He had me cracking up. And not breaking the tradition of Japanese punctuality, that party ended precisely at 9pm.
Alas, it's Friday and I can finally relax. One more month til vacation!
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