Catching Flies with Chopsticks:
Galvin's Japan Journal
Holy fuck, it's September.
I've been having quite the string of bad luck lately. First, and probably the most of it, I got some really bad news about a family member not too long ago, which is kinda bugging me out more and more as time goes on. Second, my phone inexplicably stopped working. I could make calls freely, but any time someone called me, the phone would ring, and I'd pick it up only to hear silence. Try to imagine the sort of effect this can have on one's psyche when in the desperate, infant stages of building an entirely new social life ("The phone rang! It must've been ______!" Then it turns out it was the principal of some school telling me not to be late again. Killjoy). Then, due to said phone, I was inadvertantly ditched by some friends on a social occasion, but slightly before that, I woke up with pinkeye. Whee! Oh, and I also had some particularly horrible classes, AND I'm trying to give up smoking, which of course is one of those rare matters that's actually easier done than it is said, which of course leaves me in a non-irritable, non-wanting-to-buy-a-litter-of-kittens-just-so-I-could-declaw-them-with-a-pair-or-rusty-pliers-one-by-one mood!! Ha ha ha! I HATE EVERYBODY WHO'S HAPPIER THAN ME AT THE MOMENT, AND THAT INCLUDES THE WORLD'S HOMELESS POPULATION.
There's a line in a typically optimiscally depressing Travis song that goes like "...and whatever's on my eye might go away." Anyway, I was listening to it the other day when I wrote the above, and the irony just struck me now: my eye HAS cleared up, meaning I can look at this screen without pain. Also, my phone problem has finally been solved! The repairman explained it to me over the phone, in one those "Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Yeah, okay, sure, I don't really understand exactly what you're saying, nor do I care, since I got the basic gist, i.e., MY PHONE FINALLY WORKS AGAIN, and that's all I actually care about!" moments. So at least SOME things, relatively little tho they may be, are starting to look up.
Random things I've noticed about Japanese children: you remember how in elementary school, or, realistically speaking, in junior high, high school, college, and businesses such as the construction industry, there was a very well-known, stereotypical way of Asian people speaking English? You know, Rs for Ls and whatnot...of course it's completely true, but that doesn't mean it's not insensitive, and we all know Not Hurting Feelings always wins out over Truth! Anyway, what I was saying was, I think Japanese kids have a similar stereotype for Americans speaking Japanese. It's a bit more subtle than than an American imitating Mr. Miyagi, particularly to my, after all, foreign ears, but it's definitely there: for instance, I'll ask my kids if they know the English word for "tomodachi" (friend). This will usually prompt the smart-asses in the class to answer, "To-mo-DAH-chi!" and then roll over in self-inflicted laughter. This is akin to asking a classful of American children what the Japanese word for "friend" is (only there would be no chance of them ever knowing), only to have one or two punks loudly answer, "FLEND!" So apparently, mocking the American habit of putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable in Japanese is their equivalent of our making jokes about Asian people using Rs instead of Ls or vice-versa. Isn't it funny how symmetrical the world can be sometimes?
So I think I encountered my first blushing schoolgirl crushes today. Today after my last class, I was mobbed by a group of googly-eyed 10 year-olds, who then proceeded to gang-hug me like a mob of 10 year-old biker girls cornering a teddy bear wearing slutty clothing in an alley outside a bar. Sweet Moses that's about the weakest simile I've ever half-assedly constructed. At any rate, they began asking if I had a girlfriend -- actually a pretty standard question in this job, not to mention this country -- and not accepting my answer of "Yes, Makiko Tanaka" (a notoriously loud-mouthed, and notoriously middle-aged female politician), one of them perked up and said, "Chow-sensei no garufurendo ni natte ageru yo!" Okay, so maybe it wasn't so blushing, because the translation of that sentence isn't "Can I be your girlfriend," but rather much closer to "I'll do you the favor of becoming your girlfriend!" Anyway, it was really cute, and while the old me would make strained Chas Budnick references here, the new me will wonder, "Damn, were the young teachers I got crushes on in elementary school as loserly as _I_ am now?" I guess the addition of NERD-DAR to the female physiology doesn't come until the very latest stages of puberty.
In other news, I've taken on a part-time job tutoring a doctor in English, so he can internationalize his practice. Basically my job is to pretend I'm a patient suffering any number of wonderful afflictions, and act out a mock consultation in English with the doctor, Suzuki. Naturally, this was a LOT of fun. It's like acting lessons, only I get paid! Why, in just our first lesson, I was a middle-aged construction worker named Stanley suffering from chest pains, an 18 year-old high school student suffering from migraine headaches, AND a 48 year-old woman named Louise showing signs of clinical depression after a painful divorce! Of course, this was during my Bad Week, so that last one came a lot easier than the others. Dr. Suzuki even complimented me on my wonderful acting ability and excellent imagination, to which I just responded, "Yeah, acting..." At any rate, I get paid 2000 yen an hour, for one 2-hour lesson a week, so that's an extra 4000 yen (about $40) a week for play-acting. Of course, were the good doctor to actually seek out an English school, he'd be paying upwards of 8000 yen/hour, but a) I wouldn't like the implication of expertise that comes along with higher pay, and b) I see no reason to gouge the poor guy. Also, hey, it can't help to have connections to a doctor while in Japan. You know, just in case that thing on my eye comes back again.
So, we all know what tomorrow is...if We happen to be American, and were not one of the tragic thousands shafted by Habitat for Humanity (i.e., they gave you a ROCK to live under...on MARS HAHAHA I'm tired gimme a break). Anyway, I'm bad at being like, serious, and stuff, hence the humor being even more awkward than usual. But I somehow found myself in a political discussion with one of my office workers today, and the topic of TOMORROW came up. Now, I'm not exactly one suited for the McLaughlin group even when speaking in English, so just imagine me discussing the political agendas of President Bush and Prime Minister Koizumi with my coworker in his native language. I mean, I'm sort of resigned to the fact that I'm going to sound like an idiot 50% of the time I speak in Japanese, but this just made me feel, well...linguistically impotent.
Anyway, I was going to say how my coworker just brought up 9/11 so completely casually: "You know, the terrorist attacks. (hand gestures indicating buildings falling over)" Obviously I was made rather uncomfortable by this topic, and I think my coworker realized that, so he complied as I hastily tried to switch the subject...TO JAPAN'S WAR CRIMES DURING WORLD WAR II. Kofi Annan I am not. Anyway, I then tried to compensate for inadvertantly bringing up a fairly taboo topic...BY EXPRESSING MY APPROVAL FOR JAPAN'S ACTIONS DURING WORLD WAR II. Well, not exactly, but while I'm in Japan, I obviously try never to say anything bad about the country to the natives (that I save for here!), so I reflexively felt compelled to follow that rule even in this case. The result? I told him that Japan's actions during WWII were "mostly fine." Okay, right-wing nationalist "Korea was always ours and China had it coming" textbook I am not, but still...from now on, I am never talking with a Japanese person about anything more politically complex than "Your Prime Minister has nice hair; what shampoo do you suppose he uses?"
Sometimes, when I'm bored and want to feel superior to other people, I go to the Listmania! section of Amazon.com. It's amazing what some people name as the OMGBEST MUSIK EVAR!!!without even the slighest hint of irony. Michelle Branch, indeed. Have you noticed that the latest batch of popular teenage female singers are all brunettes? Have you noticed that there is a distinct emphasis on the playing of actual instruments rather than choreographed dance routines? Have you noticed that they are all dressed in comparitively sensible, "earthy" fashions? Have you noticed that Michelle Branch and Vanessa Carlton are actually the exact same person and were probably created by splitting a human soul in two and pouring it into separate test tubes? At least with the whole Bubblegum Pop debacle, everyone, at least on some level, knew it was crap. But now that audiences are finally maturing beyond that, record companies are feeding their customers music that is packaged as more artistic and independent while still being the same spoon-fed shit. These new Manufactured Alternachicks express Deep Emotions through bad lyrics that are vaguely artistic instead of vaguely sexual. So whereas before a line of a popular song might be "My boy he ain't never been no good to me," it would now be "My boy he ain't never been no good to me, like a cloud in the timeless sky," followed by an overly complex piano solo.
You can dip a piece of shit in chocolate if you like, but on the inside, it's still gonna be a piece of shit.
I'd like to point out that, as we speak, I am getting paid to write this. That's because this is one of my "Office Days," meaning instead of visiting a school I come to the Board of Education and basically sit around for eight hours. Well, I suppose technically I should be preparing for classes and whatnot, but seeing as in the entire month or so I've been teaching I've only taught the little bastards ONE lesson (I have seven schools, and some of them are very big), that thought has yet to even enter my mind. And even if I were working hard to prepare things to teach, I don't see how anybody expects me to spend eight hours doing so. So as it stands, most of my office days involve me being even less productive than when I'm by myself in my apartment, except that I am usually wearing a tie. Here's what my usual schedule for Office Days looks like.
8:35AM: Arrive at work. Note that this time keeps getting later as I realize that no one cares or really even knows what time I'm supposed to come in.
8:45AM-10:00AM: Read my English newspaper, the Daily Yomiuri. I do this so I at least look like I'm doing something semi-responsible. Of course, the entire time I am fighting the urge to flip directly to the Comics and Entertainment section. One time, I tried to translate/explain a Calvin and Hobbes strip to a student. In typical fashion, he smiled, nodded, and assured me he thought it was hilarious. Lying philistine.
10-11AM: Do the crossword puzzle, inventing new words like "Daproot" and "Haplooms" in the process ("Plant's primary support" and "Saloons" being the clues, respectively). I do this to look like I am making a conscious effort to improve my own English to aid me in my job as a teacher. In reality, though, as a self-proclaimed Master of the English language, it's always bugged the hell out of me that I suck so bad at crossword puzzles.
11-11:15AM: Growing increasingly frustrated with crossword puzzle; resisting temptation to cheat by going on internet to look up clues.
11:15AM-12PM: Go on internet to cheat at crossword puzzle. Lack of certainty of existence of Salem, Oregon echoes early failures in Elementary school geography class. At some point, the Yakult Yogurt and Tea Ladies visit the office, peddling their namesake wares. I snicker to myself at the inherent Japanese-ness of scheduled Yogurt-and-Tea breaks.
12-12:05PM: Writhe in internal despair that I suck so bad at crossword puzzles. Cheer up when someone invites me to lunch, which will no doubt entail conversation with people who will reassure me that my English is quite good.
12:05-12:10PM: Japanese coworkers finish eating. I, meanwhile, have taken one mouthful of rice and two sips of miso soup. I have no proof, but I've a sneaking suspicion that whenever I blink my coworkers are actually scraping food off their plates into the mouths of silent dogs concealed within the floorboards. There can be no other explanation for how Japanese people eat so fast.
12:30-1PM: Humorously Japanese Occurence #2: Marvel as everyone brushes their teeth at their desks, making occasional trips to the bathroom to spit. You haven't lived until you've seen dozens of Japanese businessmen shuffling down the hallways with toothbrushes jutting out of their mouths. And THIS in a country that ranks only slightly above Britain and say, Ethiopia, in terms of dental hygenics.
1-3PM: Firmly establish my status as Loser by using internet, despite now having it at home, to look up pro wrestling and video game web pages, for once grateful that no one here can understand English. Of course, there are only so many computers here, so should someone need a computer to do, say, actual work, they might be outta luck. Looking at the big picture, this potentially translates to one of the local schools not getting that big important budget revision approved, thus meaning many of its students will not get the proper education they deserve, forcing much of the male students to join 80s motorcycle gangs and the females to become those infamous schoolgirl prostitutes, all because I really really need to know if Booker T is close to being a main-eventer yet. How do I sleep at night?
3-3:10PM: Humorously Japanese Occurence #3: Saving the best for last, this is "Exercise Time", which essentially proves that the portrayal of Japanese people in the cinema classic "Gung Ho" was not far off. At 3 o'clock sharp every day, the recorded voice of a cheery woman leads everyone in stretching exercises to the tune of a song that sounds like it was written to be the background music for a menu screen of an 8-bit Nintendo game, but was rejected for using too many synthesized sounds. This is, overall, a TRIP, and one of these days I will snag a picture with my digital camera for all of you.
4PM: Ask formal permission from Chief, Section Chief, or Division Chief to leave work at the time I am supposed to leave every day. Reassure them that it was a fun, productive day for me in the office, as evidenced by the mostly-filled-in-correctly-or-not crossword puzzle on my desk. Bid farewell to my co-workers, and chortle in bitter irony as they give me the customary goodbye phrase, "You must be tired from working so hard!" One of these days, they're gonna wise up and say it sarcastically.
7-10PM: Realize I actually have to plan a new lesson for tomorrow and whine, bitch, and moan, in that order, on how on earth I am supposed to put together a new lesson with so little time for planning. Ah, 'tis the cycle of life!
So I made my first Japanese pun today. Some of the teachers I work with asked me if there are Japanese pears in America, too -- actually, come to think of it, half my conversation with all my teachers resolves around whether or not something in Japan is also available in America, especially fruit, but ESPECIALLY Japanese pears, but that's a topic for another time -- and I, without thinking, answered ever so wittily, "Nashi wa nashi." Ha ha! Okay, I'm sure that was comprehensible to about say, NONE of you blue-eyed blonde-haired foreign devils, so allow me to explain: "Nasi" is the Japanese word for Japanese pear as well as one way to say "not there" ("wa" is just a subject marker, essentially is/are). Thus, it's horribly witty of me to turn such linguistic circumstance on its motherfuckin' EAR and make a homonym-centered pun that was such a groaner it may in fact result in the eventual re-armament of Japan. What's worse is it came out completely reflexively, meaning I've already been in this country too long. Anyway, I just wanted to share that, airing out my shame publically as a show of penitence. Ah, who'm I kidding, I just wanted everyone to know that I'm finally learning to be witty in another language, too! Even if wit in said language happens to be, ethnocentrically speaking, horribly, horribly lame.
Actually, come to think of it, I think I suffered enough today. I had my second lesson tutoring Dr. Suzuki in English, and THIS time I -- okay, this is why there must be a God, because someone sure likes to laugh at me -- got to play the juicy (har har) role of 30 year-old Victoria Billingsley, suffering from abnormally strong menstrual cramps. Let's just say that I had a significantly tougher time acting out this one than say, the construction worker experiencing soreness in his shoulder. For one thing, I have absolutely no idea how much "menstrual flow" I am meant to have during my period, and when it came down to it, could not point out exactly where on my body my menstrual cramps were centralized. This resulted in both a crushing blow to my confidence of knowledge of the female body, as well as a practically euphoric high that I will never actually have to know the female body quite that well. But I suppose this little play-acting session was pretty educational for the good doctor as well as myself, particularly the actual physical exam simulation, which at one point involved me laying on my back with my legs in the air, spread and bent at the knee. Thankfully the good doctor had the courtesy to act out his part from a good five feet away, which of course is not the recommended distance for an actual effective exam, but quite sensible in this case as it would have likely made him rather uncomfortable and me cry rape. Still, if nothing else, I can now officially confirm that the phrase "I'm now going to put on my rubber glove and insert it into your vagina" has been directed at me in a serious context...now I just hope it never is again.
Moving right along, I also wanted to make sure everyone got a gander at these. Now that's MY version of a glass slipper! Find me someone who can wear these, who's like, y'know, not bad-looking or too submissive and stuff, who can and likes to cook, and I may have to change my opinion about marriage after all! Gameboy-wearin' mommas are FOXY.
On a related note, I have a special surprise planned for the weekend, really aimed at the similarly nerdy but unless I miss my guess it should prove entertaining for the (no doubt) few non-nerdy among us as well. Anyway, I hope to have some writings about this Event up by the beginning of next week, so stay tuned...
Well, it took an entire day at the office, but I finally completed my report of my "special surprise" from over the weekend: a hands-on report of the 2002 Tokyo Game Show. For those of you who have no interest in video games, worry not: my report actually has very little to do with games, but rather, weirdness. Which is something that, I think you'll agree, has a far more universal appeal. Anyway, I wanted to edit it or some shit like that, but fuck it, like any of you care. But read and tell me what you think! Special bonus points to anyone who can name all the characters pictured throughout the report. I am proud to admit that I cannot.
As for me, I'm off to Ueda for the weekend. Not that that means anything to you foreign devils. Hell, I could completely make up a city name if I wanted to, like say, Kita-Sanchihara, and you'd have no idea whether it was real or not, ha ha! Of course, neither do I, but that's beside the point. Anyway, it's going to be drinking in Ueda city with a bunch of people I don't really know on Friday, and then drinking in a forest in the mountains in no-doubt freezing temperatures with some people I know on Saturday, and possibly (but not likely) rice-harvesting on Sunday. Personally, I'd rather blow it all off and sit at home watching TV, but promises are promises, and I made promises. Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes, as I am wont to, if it proves even remotely interesting. Peace.
Woof. Just got back from Ueda today, and boy am I beat. Friday night was just drinking in random bars with people I'd only just met, and Saturday was a barbecue/picnic/more drinking with much the same people plus some friends I'd already met from my own town. I must admit, despite my initial, par-for-the-course pessimistic view of the weekend's activities beforehand, both days were actually a lot of fun. I actually seemed to hit it off really well with most people, and to top it off I even met three Asians who are even BIGGER pussies at drinking than I am. Granted, two of them were girls who couldn't have weighed more than a buck and a quarter combined, but the other guy was a large half-Scottish-half-Chinese British guy in a hard-looking leather coat, and HE spent the entire evening downing kalua and milk while I at least stuck with beer. Also present was a Japanese lady, a teacher at this girl Beth's school, who spent time in Scotland and thus spoke with a Scottish accent when speaking English. Which, combined with lots and lots of beer, was more or less the aural equivalent of meeting a woman with three breasts.
I just realized the ending comment of the last paragraph makes absolutely no sense. Anyhoo, Saturday in the mountains was even better, despite an irritatingly persistent atmosphere of high school students on a camping getaway. I mean, bonfire, cookout, impromptu singalongs to Simon and Garfunkel, a kid whipping out a guitar and playing the Four Songs Everyone Who's Learned Guitar Knows (More than Words, Stairway to Heaven, Time of Your Life, and uh, a Pearl Jam song) alcohol-fueled socialization -- hell, at one point I was even sitting on a fence with a couple people, looking at the stars and faroff city lights, sipping beer whilst wondering at the nature of the universe and the existence of fate and destiny especially. I mean, *please*, all we needed was the surprise arrival of Jason Vorhees or a massive 20-person softcore orgy and we'd have classic Teen Movie material here. Hell, there were even lots of token foreign people around (whom I graciously taught the phrase, "How you doing?"). Thinking about it, I almost want to punch myself in the stomach for enjoying myself so much. But oh well, despite the overall cliched nature of the get-together, it doesn't change the fact that it was still a LOT of fun.
Oh, I did seem to rather piss some people off with my incessantly loud snoring during the night, AND somehow earned a reputation of having a liking for big, black men -- thus earning the nickname "Genghis Black" in the process -- and fun or not, I'd rather those things not have happened. Also, the bathrooms were the absolute foulest things I have ever smelled. Typical for me to continue to point out the negatives of something I said was a lot of fun...
Still, fun or not, I think I'm ready for a nice, quiet weekend for next weekend. I was BEAT coming home today, and even more beat after getting off the train and somehow dragging my feet to my door. But then, the existence of god was again verified as SOMETHING was definitely conspiring to keep me from a nice relaxing nap. First, I found a note left for me by Yoko, this lady who works at the city information center where I used to check my e-mail. You see, I haven't had the heart to tell her that I've since got the internet at home, so I think she's wondering if I'm okay, since I haven't really seen her in about a month when I used to go to her workplace like 3-4 times a week to use the computers. Anyway, I've been meaning to go there about once a week to keep up appearances, but naturally I've been far too lazy to bike 3 minutes and sit in front of a DIFFERENT computer for an hour or so. So guilty obligation won out over complete exhaustion and I dragged my sagging ass to the computer center, resulting in my getting invited to a Buddhist ceremony next weekend that necessitates my getting up at 3:50 in the morning. Sigh. So not only was I delayed from relaxing for another hour, but guaranteed myself an equally tiring day for the NEXT weekend as well. Pretty efficient, wouldn't you say?
And THEN, on my bike ride home, while passing the Seiyuu department store next to my house I heard the always bone-chilling sound of my name being called out by preteen vocal chords. I turned in horror to see, indeed, one of my elementary students, and knew right away that this little encounter would result in yet another roadblock on the way to slumberland. While silently acknowledging the irony of being held up literally right outside my door, I watched as the kid made a motion with his arms and produced two of his compadres out of what could only have been thin air. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they began running towards me and I seriously considered just biking the fuck away from them as far and fast as my tired little legs would take me, but being right to my apartment, I didn't really have anywhere to run. So, like especially young members of Cobra-Kai dojo giving a very tired Daniel-san a hard time, they surrounded me, and I knew I was caught. They asked what I was doing there (They KNOW I live in the building next to the Seiyuu. One of them even lives in the SAME building. They know this, why are they still so amazed???!), proceeded to lecture me on the virtues of Yu-Gi-Oh over Pokemon, and THEN dragged me up into the video arcade upstairs and tried to wheedle me into giving them money so they could play unidentifiable amusement games featuring Sailor Moon. I would have simply broken down in tears, seeing as the kids had already stomped all over my sense of grown-up self-esteem with their size-6 Keds, but at this point I was so tired that I lacked the energy to even properly debase myself.
Memo to whatever cosmic entity decided it would be amusing to keep me from bed today: that's pretty dirty, using obstacles and obstructions in the form of people with whom I should be nurturing good relations -- a local Japanese friend and my students. I mean, had I simply found my apartment firebombed or something, I could have silently cursed the Aum Shinrikyo, brushed off the charred remains of my bed and simply went to sleep. But nooooo, I had to deal with people I couldn't just brush out of the way in good conscience, even in my physically debilitated condition. Why not a kid in a wheelchair next time? Why not one of the really sweet kids from my special school? Why not a quadruple-amputee nun drowning face-down in a rain puddle? COME ON, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAT THAT
Okay, it's DEFINITELY time to go to sleep. Good night all. If you disturb me, I shall fracture your skull with a flame thrower. And then, after I take a long, restful, brain-recharging nap, I shall remember what a flamethrower is actually supposed to be used for and burn your drooling, bleeding, but still-slightly-alive corpse to a fiery CRISP. And then I will catapult the flaming remains ONTO YOUR MOTHER. And then I'll probably do something even worse involving a jar of Vaseline, a cactus, your sister in a soapy apron, and a hot kitchen sink full of MY dishes, but I can't remember exactly what that is right now because I am SO TIRED.
Man. Can you believe I had a GOOD weekend? Night!