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Two days ...
I ran into a former JET co-worker in front of a coffee shop the other day. Turns out the guy is planning on returning to the US this coming August. I was surprised to hear he's leaving - he seemed the made-for-Japan type to me - but when asked, he said there wasn't much of a future in a career with the JET program, thus leaving was a better long-term decision. I thought that was an interesting statement coming from him. One reason being that I had just answered his question and said that I was planning on staying in Japan for a bit longer, which would make his comment both callous and incredibly KY (KY meaning kuuki yomenai, can't read the air, in Japanese: an all-encompassing term that's used to describe people devoid of social skills, or not knowing when or how to shut the eff up when the situation demands it. We're probably all a little guilty of KY from time to time, a final comment that would've been better off un-made, indiscretion and brevity be damned). And two, it took homeboy five years to figure out that the JET program isn't an actual career option? Couldn't he have figured that out in his first year? Why not just be honest and say that your time is up (JET has a five year limit and dude is a fifth-year), "I gotta bounce," or "I had fun while I was here, but the contract won't allow me to stay and I don't want to find another job."
Why do we all feel the need to justify the limits in our lives, pretending that they're self-imposed rather than imposed upon us?
I don't get it.
(But homeboy's nice enough - we used to geek out on cameras and bikes together - so I hope he does well back in the US.)
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The two exchange students are faring quite well in the vicious, unforgiving waters that is Japanese high school life. Last night as I was leaving the school I saw one balling it up with the boys team and the other standing in front of the main gate chatting with three first-year girls.
If I were one of them - that is, an Australian high school exchange student in Japan, but keeping my American brain back when I was a teenager - I'd probably be the one running lay-up drills in the gym, secretly pining to talk with them girls. That was me ten years ago, too timid to talk to girls without an introduction, too scared to take a three.
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I'm finding a nice rhythm in this town. I realized this morning that I've been living here for two-and-a-half months now and haven't once thought that moving was a mistake. Sure, it can be inconvenient and I miss the small things like my friends in the Shiz, my old gym, and the restaurants I used to frequent, but on the plus side, I can play ball more often now and I have time to cook again. I forgot how much I like making a simple meal and sitting down at a table eating it while the sunlight fills the living room with its warm embrace, hot green tea on the side.
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Saturday night I went drinking with Brian and Katy in a small town by the ocean. We made our way to a cowboy-themed bar where an old man with a bar code hairstyle (that's what Japanese people call comb-overs. Again, the Japanese are brilliant) took a seat next to me. After a short while of nothing, he suddenly began bombarding me with endless conversation and Four Roses whiskey. I appreciated the free whiskey, but the conversation, not so much. But he was a friendly if a tad KY man and he seemed genuinely interested in our having a good time. At one point, apropos of nothing, he said to me, "You must be a play boy!" Odd, being that he just met me 20 minutes ago, and I didn't mention even one of the many illicit tales of my banging whole teams of beautiful, young swimsuit models. Noticing that the air had just gotten slapped upside the head with awkward, Brian threw in a timely, "No, he's no play boy. But he reads Playboy!" To which we all had a good laugh. (We laughed not because the joke publicy elucidates that I'm a porn-lover, but because that it's almost 2010: no one reads porn anymore. It's all streamed online).
On the way out I said goodbye to the guy and shook his hand. He held on for about five seconds too long and left me feeling equal parts used and confused. Walking to the train station Katy and I couldn't decide on whom Mr. Bar Code wanted to sleep with more, she or I. Brian broke up the stalemate and said, "You, the little Asian dude."
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My sister sent an email saying that her son was not to receive any Christmas gifts this year as he has been a monster jerk-face both at school and at home. I have no opposition to this declaration being that I am the world's laziest uncle, but I was amused to hear from my sister that when her son was informed of his coming toy-less holidays he smugly responded, "I don't care. I already have a lot of toys." Bahahaha! That kid cracks me up. That is a prime time answer to say to your already seething mother. And to think, he came up with such a terrible thing to say before his ninth birthday. My sister says he looks like I did when I was a child (too bad for him, sucka!), but he's even starting to get the face of a jerk like me.
My other sister said she can't not give him something, though. After much internal debate, she's going to give him rechargeable batteries.
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| Hot dog writing three...
- I finally have internet installed at my new place. Why it had to take 6 weeks for the guy to come to my house to do 15 minutes of work I have no idea - I learned a long time ago not to question the methods of Japan. But it's nice to be hooked back up to the source again. I feel like a crack addict who just got more crack.
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There are two Australian students here for a six-week exchange program. Good kids, if not a bit studious [not the wild-eyed, drunk, rough-and-tumble, ready-to-come-to-blows (or come-to-blow-you -- sorry, Sarah, I had to!) Aussies that I had previously met in my time here]. It's my job to show them around and make sure they get to their classes on time. Actually, I have nothing more to add to this. I just wanted to make that "come-to-blow-you" joke.
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Sometimes I feel jealous of people who really like things (I know, not the best first-sentence of all time, but hold on). What I mean is, have you ever seen someone who really likes, say, beer, have a finely made draft? It's like that person is in heaven after that first sip. Bit of froth on his upper lip, that first delicious gulp swirling in his mouth, at times almost like he's chewing it. That's what I mean, that satisfaction. Like watching a cake-lover eat a rich cheesecake. Or a coffee fanatic sitting in front of a gourmet brew. Or sushi addicts having ohtoro. I don't have anything like that. I like ramen and all, but not anymore than I like pho', or any other kinds of soups. I don't O-face when I get a chu-shu-men like Brian does with an expensive bottle of beer or Mel with any kind of chicken. It's just food to me: I'm happy to be having it, but it doesn't change my existence, the people I'm eating with do.
But then there are times that I feel bad for these same people. They know what they like, and they like it so much that if they have an inferior version of it it almost upsets them. Watching Brian have a poor-quality beer I almost want to punch him in the face to put him out of his misery. He usually says something like, "I can drink it, but I'm not happy about it." Or my other buddy - who knows his ramen - who wouldn't finish his bowl once because he thought it was so bad he said, "I'm not gonna give them the satisfaction of my finishing this bowl." Like the place didn't deserve it because it didn't meet his standards.
These are the times when I'm happy that I don't like any one food or drink that much. Sure, the excellent will give me that O-face look of satisfaction, but the terrible can also leave me unhappy or wasteful. I'd rather find that nice in between. Knowing how to like the good things (Man, the depth of flavor in this broth is insane!), but also appreciating the filler-stuff for what it is (Yoshinoya is Yoshi-delicious, motha effers! - Actually, I once said this to an elementary school principal in his office. Not in those mother-effing words, but I was trying to explain to him the culinary merits of a 260-yen bowl of beef and rice. He thought I was strange, not because I liked Yoshinoya, but that I was telling him about it in his office. These are the times when I know there are people whispering about me behind my back in Shimizu.).
I guess in everything there's a give and take. You can't appreciate good unless you've experienced bad. Unless you're like me and you just shut the eff up and eat. (Unless it's Vegemite or that izakaya in Fuji, those are the pits)
Like another buddy once said, "the best beer in the world is the one in front of me."
(Though that philosophy also led him to sleep with a slew of women with questionable hygiene.)
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I'm going home in ten days for a three-week visit. I'm so excited about this I think I'm walking around looking like one of those foodies after a particularly good meal. O-face O-rama.
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I think Jonathan finds this helpful:
- The Thing About Life is That One Day You'll Be Dead, David Shields - I think I wanted more from this book. More to think about. More to question. More to agree and disagree with. But I guess it doesn't really matter since one day I'll be dead anyway.
- Flags of our Fathers, James Bradley with Ron Powers - I wasn't a huge fan of the writing (and whenever there's an author's name with a "with" attached I'm always leery of how much was written by whom; I mean, have you ever tried writing something with someone?) but the story was entertaining and shed some light on the flag-raising picture that every American knows.
- So Brave, Young, and Handsome, Leif Enger - I have resolved to read everything this man writes. Love his prose and the stories he tells, especially because it's usually about a segment of America I'm so ignorant of.
- Things I've Learned from the Women Who've Dumped Me, Ben Karlin - I thought this book would produce more chuckles than it actually did, but still, it was a quick, fun read on the three-hour shinkansen ride (the only reason I got the book: I like comedy when I'm long-distance commuting).
- Teacher Man, Frank McCourt - If you teach, or are thinking about teaching, I'd recommend this title. Good writing, great insights into the world of teaching, and full of interesting anecdotes from over 30 years in the New York school system.
- Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro - Can't say it moved me, but I was interested the whole way through.
- Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, Lynne Truss - My buddy told me that no matter how many times he's tried to make that panda joke it always leaves him looking a bit of the idiot: no one laughs. Whatevers. I like nerdy things like punctuation (though I seldom follow the rules).
- Longshot: The Adventures of a Deaf Fundmentalist Mormon Kid and His Journey to the NBA, Lance Allred - Basketball + Mormons = My two favorite things to think about in my free time.
- This is Where I Leave You, Jonathan Tropper - Loved this book. Witty, funny, well-written, a bit TV-drama-ish, but one of my favorite reads this year.
- How to Talk to a Widower, Jonathan Tropper - I liked the aforementioned book so much that I decided to read another book by the same author right off (had never done that before). Though I have to add that I saw this second book on sale for four bucks online and I couldn't think of another title to read at the time. It was worth the four bones.
- Everything Matters, Ron Currie Jr. - Here's the problem with not having an English Language bookstore with thousands of books lining the shelves: it's hard to find something to read so you end up reading best-sellers a lot. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes I just don't agree with everything America likes. This book wasn't bad, but it just wasn't for me.
- Plainsong, Kent Haruf - It took a while for me to warm up to the story, but once I did I found myself happy I had this book in my hands.
- The Book of Basketball, Bill Simmons - Sadly, the same reason I like his columns so much is the same reason I found this book so vexing: just too many crummy jokes at inopportune times. It works great in his much shorter columns (I often laugh out loud to homeboy's insights), but in a 700-page book some of the comedy took too much away from the basketball knowledge he so obviously has. Too bad. Could have been much better. If the man ever writes a second Book of Basketball I hope he also learns the art of brevity. That said, if you're a hoop-head you should definitely read this.
- Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann - Just excellent. 2009 isn't finished yet, but perhaps my favorite.
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X-rated snowboards...
Last weekend Brian, Bob and I went to the Gotemba Outlets to do a bit of shopping. I got a sports bag with a separate compartment for shoes. It's amazing. It keeps the shoes separate from the clothes. Did you hear me? S - E - P - E - R - A - T - E. Man, Japanese people think of everything.
While there we hopped into a snowboard store and noticed an x-rated snowboard that was partially covered up where the girl's "flower" and butt would've been.
Brian couldn't resist and had himself a look. He assured us homegirl was "well put together."
I didn't peek. I'm a man of morals like that.
I just imagined her booty instead.
How dudes can snowboard with naked ladies on their feet I have no idea.
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Sunday in a new home...
 I moved a little while back, tons of reasons why but none that I want to get into right now. It was hard leaving the 'Zu, my Japanese home for the last five years, but it was time to move on and try something new. Plus, the 'Zu will never change, small towns never do. I can hop on the Tokkaido Line 15 years from now and get off one stop after Okitsu and find everything as it's always been. A small part of me sleeps better at night knowing that.
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Do people still blog? Outside of professional bloggers and foodies I don't know many people who still prefer blogging over their Facebook walls or Twitter.
I started blogging in 2003: a lifetime ago. At first I did it for me, just an easy way to remind myself to notice the every day things and write about them, something I'd be able to dig up in the future and re-hash on some lonely summer night. But then gradually a few friends and family members started to read my crummy jokes, so I started to write knowing that I could probably give them a cheap laugh (something I'd try to do if I were there in person). And now that blogging has gone the way of CD players, boy bands not named Jonas, and cell phones with physical buttons, I notice I'm once again writing things down just for me.
I'm sad to see the blogging era go. It was a fun time. A time when I knew what all my friends had for dinner, what got them upset that day, and any story a buddy told me I'd probably already heard about via their Xanga (which made for tons of awkward moments where we both realized the story had already been told but had to pretend like it hadn't).
Maybe one day we'll all look back at the years between 2003 and 2008 and think how goddamn narcissistic we all were and feel like chumps. I mean, really, who cares that your mom called you today and you had a cream cheese bagel at 5PM.
(Actually, I do.)
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And if you're wondering: Yes, that is a mug with pictures of pandas banging in different positions. I got it from Mel. I think his reasoning was, "Well, I wanna get that dude something. Let's see ... he drinks tea, he's Chinese so he's got an innate love for pandas, and he likes banging - this is perfect!"
Strangely enough, in the span of one week I had to answer twice for my perceived sukebeness. Once when I had a few co-workers over for dinner and I forgot to put away that panda-love mug (Uh, it was a gift. I swear!) and the other when I forgot to put away the calendar of scantily clad Hawaiian ladies that Stacey gave me (Uh, that was also a gift. I swear!).
I think a good question would be why my friends like to get me sexually suggestive household goods. Is this a hint here, guys?
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