Sept. 19th

Man, today was just one of those days where the newness just wasn’t there. The kids now know who I am, so now…my personality has to shine through. …Great. I forgot about THAT thing. Hoped I could lock it away for a while and get by on being all weird. My mother said that at some point, maybe my goofier, childish side would shine through, and it’d let me relax and be young again, and…she’s right. I’m just…getting used to it. Had to remember that I can screw up, and look like an idiot here. What better way to do that than at sports and music!

First, I tried playing against the table tennis club. Man…those girls are awesome. I mean, I genuinely suck at ping pong now, but…they’re really good. The stereotype isn’t because of bloodlines or anything, but because these kids play ping pong every frickin’ day for, like…YEARS. You’d be awesome enough to pass some ping pong gene down to your kids too if you played that much.

Next was music. I’d “played” trumpet for a year when I was a kid, but I had braces at the time, which meant…I had a different mouth back then. When I picked up a trumpet today, oh…oh, that was just horrible. The Shy Music Teacher laughed, as did I. I tried to explain braces, and I think they understood why I couldn’t even begin to play anymore.

Shoot, I was even goofing up in class, messing up Japanese terms and everything. Mrs. Sick Teacher seemed to enjoy the fact that my Japanese was far from perfect, as is her English. I suppose my introduction was a bit overwhelming…maybe I seemed too cool and perfect. …HA! Really, though, I think it was best that I totally wiped that illusion away. That’s the kind of crap that sets me up for a huge fall.

Oh, speaking of spectacular set ups for fantastical falls, I made the mistake of putting this fact on my application: “Some people say I have a nice singing voice.” Totally true. Some people have gone as far as to say my voice is beautiful. That’s really stretching it. I mean…I can sing within a certain range, and sound okay, but I’m nothing special or solo-worthy. But then Shy Music Teacher, who…we might as well just call Music Teacher at this point, asks me, “Do you like to sing?”

“Yeah…it’s…fun?”

“Well, we would like…you sing…at festival…with me and The Secretary.”

Wait…wait, what?

“We hear you like singing. Is…okay?”

Wh…b…j… “Iiiiiiiiii’m….maybe?”

“Idea. If…okay with….you. Yo kereba…”

“Yo kereba… Ano…ano…tabun. Maybe. Maaaybe. Tabun.”

She smiles and we end the conversation like every other awkward multilingual conversation. Awkwardly, with uncommunicated ideas dangling like…misused prepositions?

…Oh, yeah…I’m in trouble. Watch…knowing my luck, these people think I’m classically trained. Or…trained at all, geez.

D