And along came July.
I was reeling from my experiences in June, cursing this country for everything that it was. My Japanese was getting better, but it’s not like I actually wanted to use it with too many people. Fortunately, outside of all the crappiness of my schools…I had a good social network to keep me going.
I doubt I’ve mentioned this before, which is odd, but…since March, I gained two more English conversation classes. These classes are a major source of my income…not to mention a major source of my “good times in Japan”. The first class is on Wednesday evenings, and my students are 5, 60+ year old women, whose English most definitely ain’t all that good, but have some awesome spirit in them. One of them even invites me to her house every week before class for a traditional Japanese dinner, and a chance to teach her three granddaughters English. Two of the three happen to attend Hell, and actually help me out when I’m there.
As for these five women, they’re not even really there to learn English! It’s just a social gathering for them, and a chance to exercise their brains, which is an area in which the Japanese have Americans STOMPED. Well…past generations, at least. Also, the more I teach there…the more I’m beginning to notice these girls are just havin’ a good time flirting with the young, tall English teacher, which is creepy and hilarious at the same time. They’re always asking me about girlfriends and what not. It’s a great time, really. And recently, an old teacher came back to visit, and he and I talked about the whole experience of being an English teacher here, and it seems that, yeah…they just like flirting with the teacher…when it’s a male. And lemme tell ya, using whatever Japanese you can gets compliments that can lift you out of any bad day.
My other class has somewhere between 7 and 12 students, two of which are actually from the Wednesday class. The ages range between 35 and 79. I teach it on Thursdays, at the biggest building in my little town. And through the wall from my little class is the one, the only, Tom! The JET of our city. We make a habit of dropping in on each other’s classes from time to time. And lemme clear something up. I don’t hate Tom, guys. Really. I just play stuff up for comedic reasons on this journal (and sometimes in real life). Besides, the dude came in and apologized about taking my schools, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, so we’re cool. He’s still the person I must defeat in Japanese, though. I like the competition.
Speaking of Japanese, I’m also enjoyin’ my class, which James joined back in June, so he, I and the Turkish guy, Ali, are all gettin’ smarter every week. It’s good times. In the last part of July, Ali and I went to a International Student Conference thing with our Japanese teacher, where we got to hang out with lots of people, but apparently ended up as playthings for the local girl scout squad. Why must children always try to swing from my dreadlocks…really?
In the early part of the month, Matt invited Stephanie and I to a festival in the first town he visited in Japan, Koga. We met all his old friends, Stephanie got to look really good in a yukata (it’s a summer kimono), and me? Well, maybe I drank a lil’ too much. …Oops? Actually, I hadn’t eaten that day, so like…two beers sent me to a very happy place. Unfortunately, because I went to the festival, I couldn’t do a favor for my favorite Japanese family…but they didn’t hate me too much. In fact, they invited me out to a beer garden in the later part of the month!
Now, it’s been said before…and I’ll say it again. I really do love this family. And…maybe they like me, I dunno. I arrived and everyone was there. Tokiko (Mom), Shinichi (Dad), Riyo (The Sister), Sui (The Granddaughter) and Miho (The Daughter). Anyway… It seemed the goal was to see just how much I could drink. This seems to be the goal of all Japanese people, actually. But Miho was actually challenging me this time, claiming that I had said that “Americans can drink a lot more than Japanese people.” I assured her I hadn’t, and also warned her, that if I did anything stupid that evening, it was all her fault. She found that funny.
Later, I was asked to lift Little Sui as high as possible, because she wanted to touch the lights that were hanging from a nearby tree. Actually, I was asked twice. Fortunately, I’m quite found of Lil’ Sui, and she seems to enjoy hanging out with me, so it was fun.
Afterward, Miho, Riyo, Riyo’s husband and I…oh, crap and the music teacher that was at the Christmas get together…dunno if that sounds familiar…well, we all went to karaoke. And had a really good time…I think.
Why “I think”? Alright…first let’s talk about another experience at Hell.
Pool day. The sixth graders were having an awesome time at the pool. I sat by watching, and yet again, was reminded of a certain time in my past. The time when I couldn’t swim…which was for a VERY long time. I’d sit by the pool and watch the other kids enjoying the water, and for the life of me couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much. It looked fun. Id looked like pure enjoyment, but the moment I got in the water, it all changed. I mean, I’d been through every kind of swimming lesson you could imagine. The ol’ “toss him in” technique, which TOTALLY didn’t work on me. Then the “Dad’s gonna swim with you on his back” deal…the actual swimming lessons at the YWCA…weekly practice with my dad…it…none of it worked. Shoot, I STILL don’t like swimming. I can do it, sorta, but no, man. Which made for some no-fun situations at parties and stuff as a kid.
And…as I watched these kids, being taught all sorts of swimming techniques in school…I realized just how weird a kid I was. Like…seriously. The things I did, said…they must’ve weirded my parents out to no end. I know my dad had to deal with the fact that I wasn’t the tough lil’ son he wanted…actually I remember being scared of my dad from those days (which, draws up interesting parallels with my own fear of being feared)…nowadays I wince at how that must’ve felt for him. And then all the conditions and inabilities I had, the fact that I was always sick, the things I’d do and blurt out from the frustration of bein’ so dang off key from every living soul I knew…I’m shocked I didn’t explode back then. The lack of confidence in any and everything about myself… Then I remembered the cynical version of myself that emerged from those inadequacies…and how strong it got in hopes of hiding my past. Then I realized how…the moment I got into college, people latched on to that cynic. Thought he was cool. So, that version of me became prominent, for the sake of keeping it hidden from everyone I knew. A false confidence, and a mysterious loner-ish personality…all of those masks…all to hide the truth of just how awkward I am in this world. All to hide my own self-loathing…
I realized that hated darn near everything about myself. All my accomplishments and endeavors…I’ve never been proud of them. They’ve just been a bit of protection from the real me or something. I realized that…I genuinely think something is wrong with me. That every action I’ve ever taken…I look back on it with shame, as if I could’ve done something better. Choices I’ve made, chances I’ve taken…shoot…every single word that comes out of my mouth, I look back on it…analyze it…find everything wrong with it…and pack the shame away.
Because of this…everything I did at that beer garden with that family…I fear that I screwed something up. I fear that they think I’m as big an idiot as I think I am. This happens with all of my friends, but…if you mean something to me, I feel even more awkward around you, and hate my every move even more. This family…they apparently mean more to me that I can comprehend, and so…even now…though I type this almost three weeks after the fact…I hate everything I did that evening. Despite the fact that Sui enjoyed being lifted so high…despite the fact that Shinichi still boasts about me like I’m his son…despite the fact that I had Miho laughing the whole evening…I still think it’s all a lie. That they have to be thinking that I’m…just a big, stupid—
Ugh…I think we’ve found the next level of my growth here. First it was removing my dislike of the people around me…now I gotta learn not to hate myself so much…and stop swearing that there’s something wrong with me. And for that reason…I’m actually posting this…unedited…
And now you’re caught up to August. I’ll give you a few updates about what’s happened up until the present…including the wonderful process of getting a Japanese driver’s license!
D
Thursday, August 16, 2007
One of my friends recently chastised me, saying “You always SAY you’ll catch us up on your blog, but then…you just stop!”
So let’s get this done, right here, right now. But I’m only gonna take you to the end of July, so calm down.
First up, June.
June was a month of discomforts… Reminders of who I was, who I didn’t want to be, and who I most definitely didn’t want people to know I’d been. My schools seemed to be getting on my nerves. I could find almost no redeeming factor in any of them. Not that I hated the kids or anything…there was just nothing that really shined for me. At moments like those, I usually assume that the “honeymoon phase” is over, but it’s been over for a while now.
My days at Hell began to wear on me, as the students either didn’t treat me as a human being, or were absolutely terrified of me. The teachers were quite friendly, but man…it wasn’t enough. The kids just were under no control, and it was really getting to me. I’d try to teach, with no help from the teacher, and things would just go wrong. There were even some golden moments that I can’t remember because of how frustrated I felt all the dern time. Like…uh…the number’s lesson! Yeah, I was teaching the third graders about numbers 1 through 10. I would hold up a card, and they’d say the number. But, I held up the number 3, and said,
“What’s this?”
One kid replied, with perfect timing, “It’s a butt!” The whole class roared with laughter. Now…today, even when thinking about it, that kid and his timing makes me laugh…it’s a moment I’ll never forget, but at the time, I was not in the mood for that, man. Sad, too…because for a third grader…that was comic genius.
There were two moments in Hell that stand out for me in that month. The first was when a second grader was sitting next to me during lunch, and she was looking curiously at my skin. Her eyes said everything; she couldn’t believe such a thing could happen. And when it seemed she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she asked me, gently,
“Why is your skin so dark? Did someone hurt you?”
At first I was a little upset at the question—upset that someone would consider my skin color an affliction, but then I saw her face. She actually looked like…if I told her who had done this to me, she would wait until she grew up, track them down, and bring me their head. It made me smile before I explained things to her.
The second moment was not so cute. A first grader was looking at me with interest and fear. And suddenly, he asked what was on his mind.
“Mr. David, are you human?” and he and his friends ran away laughing.
Now…that question cut me deep. Like…really, really, really deep.
Later that week, I got to hang out with my friend Akira and his new girlfriend, Azuka(?). Matt came along too. We ran around Tokyo a bit, had some dinner…had a grand ol’ time. Afterward, Matt and I went to visit our friend, Canadian Dave, where the two of us realized the beauty of our home state, and just how far we’d come since we’d left. It was a great evening. The next day, Matt and I wandered through Shinjuku Park, and went to a small food shop, where I somehow got the e-mail address of a Chinese girl who worked there. Hey, don’t look at me, man…
That outing left me feeling quite refreshed, and ready to take on the world, but another visit to Hell sure blasted that out of me. Why is that school such a downer for me?
Anyway, soon afterward, I went to “Too Close To Home” school, where I had the pleasure of working with the sixth graders. Now, these kids at this school, I like, because their a playful bunch, and not in that “I’m-a kancho you!” kinda way either. They laugh with you, and actually treat you like a human being. Odd…because I’d argue sixth graders are the complete opposite in America.
I was simply doin’ self-introductions that day, and all was going well. One by one, they’d stand up, I’d say hi, ask the kids their name and what they liked, and we’d move on. Then I came to one girl. This girl, in aaaaall the times I’d come to that school, seemed quite alright. She never said much, but she always seemed excited if she saw me in the halls. But today…something was odd. I could see it on her face. I figured she was nervous, so…I did a bit of a goofy walk over to her, which made the class laugh, and I said in a very bright, friendly voice, “Hello!” Next thing I knew…she was backing away, and her face had gone pale. She was trembling. I saw she was freaking out a bit so I stepped WAAAAAY back. But it was too late…tears began streaming down her face. The poor girl was terrified.
Now, I don’t know if you all know this about me, but…I don’t like being feared. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long while, believe it or not. Someone being afraid of me is something that slices through to my soul…triggers a lot of emotion in me. Brings back a lot of bad memories. Combine that with the fact that tears from any female pretty much render me powerless, well…I was distraught, to say the least.
One of the kids jokingly said, “Oooooh, David! Look what you did!” Understandable reaction…I probably would’ve made the same joke.
The teacher asked, “What’s wrong?”
The girl replied, “He’s scary…”
The words seemed to hammer another nail into my heart. But then the kids started laughing at her, saying, “What the crap is wrong with you? It’s DAVID! He’s not scary!” But the poor girl couldn’t contain herself. She just kept trembling as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was at that moment, my pain was replaced by sympathy…and I actually began to defend the poor kid, telling the class to leave her alone…and in that moment, she calmed down. Later on, she stood up again, and finished her self-introduction, tear-free. But that had done it for me…
I went back to the teachers’ room and sat at my desk, and immediately e-mailed Matt about it, trying to scoop off some of the guilt and shame. I just wasn’t ready for that…not that day.
But it wasn’t over. Later, after lunch, I watched the kids on the playground from the safety of the teachers’ room, waving at some of the kids who noticed me. They responded enthusiastically, which made me feel a little better, but I’d still made that girl cry…just by being me. Then I saw him. The little Pakistani boy who went to that school. The little boy who I’d let beat me in arm wrestling so he could have a moment of glory. The little boy whose brother and sister I taught at my junior high school. He was wandering around the playground by himself, looking for someone to play with, but every time he met a group of people, they would disperse, running from him. Some girls screamed “Get away!” Some boys just looked at him with disgust. I felt my heart shudder for a moment, as I was reminded of a part of my past that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Same situation…playgrounds…people running from me…because I was different. Because they thought I was dangerous, or that…something was wrong with me, I don’t know…but it never…apparently that wound never healed. A while ago, I mentioned that Japan had the power to heal old wounds, but it also has the power to rip them wide open. I suddenly found myself furious at every child on that playground. I found myself wanting to hurt someone…someone I couldn’t identify…I wanted to lash out somewhere…anywhere…. …And then I saw the Pakistani boy playing with some of the kids on the rope bridge. My mind calmed down, but my heart was racing. My eyes were burning from the tears that had almost appeared…
“Debitto-sensei?” said one of the teachers.
“I…y…huh?” I replied, turning around to see three teachers sitting at the small conference table.
“Can…we have a meeting for next time?”
“…Sure. Sure. …Yeah…”
For a while after that, I was keenly aware of fearful eyes and recoiling Japanese people as I wandered the countryside. Yes…a lot of old feelings were coming back. The ones that have held me back for decades…and if I didn’t find some way to beat this…I was going to see a repeat of some very bad times.
…Next up…July.
D
So let’s get this done, right here, right now. But I’m only gonna take you to the end of July, so calm down.
First up, June.
June was a month of discomforts… Reminders of who I was, who I didn’t want to be, and who I most definitely didn’t want people to know I’d been. My schools seemed to be getting on my nerves. I could find almost no redeeming factor in any of them. Not that I hated the kids or anything…there was just nothing that really shined for me. At moments like those, I usually assume that the “honeymoon phase” is over, but it’s been over for a while now.
My days at Hell began to wear on me, as the students either didn’t treat me as a human being, or were absolutely terrified of me. The teachers were quite friendly, but man…it wasn’t enough. The kids just were under no control, and it was really getting to me. I’d try to teach, with no help from the teacher, and things would just go wrong. There were even some golden moments that I can’t remember because of how frustrated I felt all the dern time. Like…uh…the number’s lesson! Yeah, I was teaching the third graders about numbers 1 through 10. I would hold up a card, and they’d say the number. But, I held up the number 3, and said,
“What’s this?”
One kid replied, with perfect timing, “It’s a butt!” The whole class roared with laughter. Now…today, even when thinking about it, that kid and his timing makes me laugh…it’s a moment I’ll never forget, but at the time, I was not in the mood for that, man. Sad, too…because for a third grader…that was comic genius.
There were two moments in Hell that stand out for me in that month. The first was when a second grader was sitting next to me during lunch, and she was looking curiously at my skin. Her eyes said everything; she couldn’t believe such a thing could happen. And when it seemed she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she asked me, gently,
“Why is your skin so dark? Did someone hurt you?”
At first I was a little upset at the question—upset that someone would consider my skin color an affliction, but then I saw her face. She actually looked like…if I told her who had done this to me, she would wait until she grew up, track them down, and bring me their head. It made me smile before I explained things to her.
The second moment was not so cute. A first grader was looking at me with interest and fear. And suddenly, he asked what was on his mind.
“Mr. David, are you human?” and he and his friends ran away laughing.
Now…that question cut me deep. Like…really, really, really deep.
Later that week, I got to hang out with my friend Akira and his new girlfriend, Azuka(?). Matt came along too. We ran around Tokyo a bit, had some dinner…had a grand ol’ time. Afterward, Matt and I went to visit our friend, Canadian Dave, where the two of us realized the beauty of our home state, and just how far we’d come since we’d left. It was a great evening. The next day, Matt and I wandered through Shinjuku Park, and went to a small food shop, where I somehow got the e-mail address of a Chinese girl who worked there. Hey, don’t look at me, man…
That outing left me feeling quite refreshed, and ready to take on the world, but another visit to Hell sure blasted that out of me. Why is that school such a downer for me?
Anyway, soon afterward, I went to “Too Close To Home” school, where I had the pleasure of working with the sixth graders. Now, these kids at this school, I like, because their a playful bunch, and not in that “I’m-a kancho you!” kinda way either. They laugh with you, and actually treat you like a human being. Odd…because I’d argue sixth graders are the complete opposite in America.
I was simply doin’ self-introductions that day, and all was going well. One by one, they’d stand up, I’d say hi, ask the kids their name and what they liked, and we’d move on. Then I came to one girl. This girl, in aaaaall the times I’d come to that school, seemed quite alright. She never said much, but she always seemed excited if she saw me in the halls. But today…something was odd. I could see it on her face. I figured she was nervous, so…I did a bit of a goofy walk over to her, which made the class laugh, and I said in a very bright, friendly voice, “Hello!” Next thing I knew…she was backing away, and her face had gone pale. She was trembling. I saw she was freaking out a bit so I stepped WAAAAAY back. But it was too late…tears began streaming down her face. The poor girl was terrified.
Now, I don’t know if you all know this about me, but…I don’t like being feared. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long while, believe it or not. Someone being afraid of me is something that slices through to my soul…triggers a lot of emotion in me. Brings back a lot of bad memories. Combine that with the fact that tears from any female pretty much render me powerless, well…I was distraught, to say the least.
One of the kids jokingly said, “Oooooh, David! Look what you did!” Understandable reaction…I probably would’ve made the same joke.
The teacher asked, “What’s wrong?”
The girl replied, “He’s scary…”
The words seemed to hammer another nail into my heart. But then the kids started laughing at her, saying, “What the crap is wrong with you? It’s DAVID! He’s not scary!” But the poor girl couldn’t contain herself. She just kept trembling as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was at that moment, my pain was replaced by sympathy…and I actually began to defend the poor kid, telling the class to leave her alone…and in that moment, she calmed down. Later on, she stood up again, and finished her self-introduction, tear-free. But that had done it for me…
I went back to the teachers’ room and sat at my desk, and immediately e-mailed Matt about it, trying to scoop off some of the guilt and shame. I just wasn’t ready for that…not that day.
But it wasn’t over. Later, after lunch, I watched the kids on the playground from the safety of the teachers’ room, waving at some of the kids who noticed me. They responded enthusiastically, which made me feel a little better, but I’d still made that girl cry…just by being me. Then I saw him. The little Pakistani boy who went to that school. The little boy who I’d let beat me in arm wrestling so he could have a moment of glory. The little boy whose brother and sister I taught at my junior high school. He was wandering around the playground by himself, looking for someone to play with, but every time he met a group of people, they would disperse, running from him. Some girls screamed “Get away!” Some boys just looked at him with disgust. I felt my heart shudder for a moment, as I was reminded of a part of my past that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Same situation…playgrounds…people running from me…because I was different. Because they thought I was dangerous, or that…something was wrong with me, I don’t know…but it never…apparently that wound never healed. A while ago, I mentioned that Japan had the power to heal old wounds, but it also has the power to rip them wide open. I suddenly found myself furious at every child on that playground. I found myself wanting to hurt someone…someone I couldn’t identify…I wanted to lash out somewhere…anywhere…. …And then I saw the Pakistani boy playing with some of the kids on the rope bridge. My mind calmed down, but my heart was racing. My eyes were burning from the tears that had almost appeared…
“Debitto-sensei?” said one of the teachers.
“I…y…huh?” I replied, turning around to see three teachers sitting at the small conference table.
“Can…we have a meeting for next time?”
“…Sure. Sure. …Yeah…”
For a while after that, I was keenly aware of fearful eyes and recoiling Japanese people as I wandered the countryside. Yes…a lot of old feelings were coming back. The ones that have held me back for decades…and if I didn’t find some way to beat this…I was going to see a repeat of some very bad times.
…Next up…July.
D
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Ah, the merry month of May… Whoever came up with that line was a total liar. For me, May was the month of misanthropy…mostly because the absolute stupidity of my schedule was revealed. Remember how I said I meet each class of my junior high school only once a week? Now…imagine what happens when the school board says I’ll be working at elementary schools twice a week from here on out. That’s right. Some students never see me for weeks at a time. Or ever. Take this excerpt from a conversation with Slick Sensei.
“So, David…how many classes do you have today?”
“One.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Won’t be here.”
“Wait…didn’t you miss those classes last week too?”
“Yep.”
“Let me look at your schedule.”
“By all means.”
“…@%#$!”
“Yeah…my thoughts exactly.”
Slick Sensei and I agree…the school board must hate junior high kids, and absolutely love the little demons of elementary schools. On that note, let’s introduce the schools of the years.
1. The School of Busted Walks. Ya’ll remember this place? Yeah. My favorite elementary school. They let me keep it. I’m so happy. But, Mr. Sick Teacher doesn’t work there anymore! That means, I’m completely separated from the Sick Teacher family! Y’all don’t know how much that hurt me, but it did. But I still have two buddies there. Tomoko (a teacher who invited me to dinner with her and her husband) and a new teacher, Ms. Kawashima. She’s my age, and I believe was brought in to replace Mr. Sick Teacher. But the three of us have our desks together, so we pretty much crack jokes all day. The kids are still total sweethearts there, and…this place is still my favorite school.
2. Littlest School. This place is new…waaaaay up north in my town. All the teachers there are old women who don’t really speak Japanese, but absolutely love me for some reason. The children at this school, and all the schools, swear I look like Ronaldihno…or however you spell his name. Soccer player, Brazil. Whatever. I’ve made it my mission everyday I’m there to try to bring the entire place down with my voice. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE” becomes a diaphragm exercise. Actually, I do this at all schools. It’s really strengthened my voice…though now I REALLY have no volume control. Anyway…this place is okay.
3. Too Close to Home. This school is my neighborhood school, and the kids that go there live very close to me. They’ve seen me walking around before. This cannot end well. But, the vice principal at this school is a cool guy. The teachers are great people, and…yeah, it’s all good. But, man…this school has more foreigners than I’m accustomed to. Like a little Pakistani boy, and a Fili—oh. Oh, okay, now THIS messed with me for a while. I was in the teachers’ room, talking to all the teachers and stuff when I saw someone. ‘Hey,’ I thought, ‘a Filipino teacher! A rather attractive Filipino teacher! I wonder if she’s an English teacher?’ Then, as two sixth grade girls ran up to her, and they all went giggling off to class, the horrible truth hit me. ‘She’s…twelve years old…at most. Well, now I’m going to hell.” I swear, man…she does NOT look twelve. That girl is totally out of place here…and yet, my place in hell has been decided. How do I know?
4. Hell. This is the worst school of the bunch. A school of loudmouthed, kancho-crazy, in-strong-need-of-a-backhand children. This is the home of the hecklers…the kids who constantly try to disrupt your flow in class. The kids who never stay in their chairs. The kids who, for some reason, already have rotting teeth. Kids with snot permanently encrusted around their nostrils. Kids who forget that I am, in fact, a human being…and actually ask questions that start to chip away at your tolerance for ignorance. Also the home of the violently retarded children. And you may think I’m trying to be funny with that one, but I’m dead serious. Violently retarded. This school has its good kids, and its horrible ones, but the horrible kids run the place. The teachers don’t even try to discipline the kids here, insisting that it’s cute. And honestly, on my third visit, I almost snapped. The teachers are good people, but man…
The sad part is…schools one and two, my favorite schools, I go to only once a month. School 3? 3 times. And Hell? EVERY WEEK. Now you know why I wasn’t too happy with the world this month.
But things got a bit worse. Now, way back in November, I noticed that the adapter on my laptop was kinda…acting up. It’d work if it was held in the right position, but…sometimes that position would change and stuff. But, as any Williams can, I learned to work around the malfunction, because I had neither the time nor the means to get a new one shipped here. Eventually, the problem left my mind…until the thing died on me in the second week of May, due to a broken wire inside the cord. Or was it April? …Anyway, Matt and I decided to make an excursion to Akihabara, the electronics district, hoping to repair our respective adapters (his had worn through as well).
Matt’s attempt ended in a bust. Either that, or he just didn’t wanna spend that much money on a new adapter from Dell. As for me, well…my (Jen’s) laptop is a bit old in computer terms, so the Dell shop didn’t sell that type of adapter anymore. What this meant was that I was gonna have to go scrounging through all the spare parts shops in Akihabara. And when you realize how many of those there are, you find that this is NO easy task. But I had my trusty Matt with me, so…off we went, asking questions in English and busted Japanese.
Eventually, we were on the trail of my adapter. Various shop owners were pointing us in the same direction, a place called QCD or something like that. They all seemed quite certain that this shop would have my adapter, and man…I was getting excited. Things might actually work out!
This is the time where I need to remind you guys of something I may have mentioned before. I’ve never named this phenomenon, but let’s try right now. Williams…Electronics Incompatilibility….and Return/Repair Disorder. WEIRRD. Perfect. So, this phenomenon is pretty simple. Any and every time the Williams family tries to make a major electronic purchase or repair, something…something goes wrong. Example: Super Nintendo. Somehow was incompatible with an old school Zenith TV. We had to send the brand new game system to some random fix-it-dude, where he installed a chip that would make the thing work properly. Totally ruined Christmas. Our first VCR was purchased AFTER the Nintendo. Literally burned out the moment I turned it on. A new big screen TV and refrigerator? Too big to get them to their respective rooms. New computer? The monitor was cracked. The list goes on. We always figure out a way around it, but these things have NEVER gone smoothly for us. Something always has to be sent back or fixed.
So, as we walked into QCD, I forgot about WEIRRD. I thought everything was gonna be awesome. In fact, it was! I found the adapter! It was a Dell! It was older! It was the wrong voltage! And even though the head of the adaptor looked almost exactly the same…there was a slight difference that could prove to be difficult. A simple chamfering of the corners. That’s all. And it was this slight difference that got Matt thinking.
If you don’t know Matt, he’s the kind of guy who has enough confidence to make everyone think they can do anything. Sometimes, I’ve had to channel his way of thinking when times get tough. In this moment, Matt decided it was time to do the impossible. We were gonna make this adapter work.
Minutes later, I was buying the adapter, and rushing from shop to shop to buy wire cutters, heat seals for exposed wires and electric tape.
“The crap are we doing, man?” I asked Matt, as he strode confidently to the next shop.
“You’re gonna splice those together. You only need the head of the new adapter, and the body of the old one. All you gotta do is clip both of them, pull the insulation and shrouding back a bit, splice them together, seal it up with the heat wraps, tape it up, and call it a day. You got a soldering iron, right?”
“No.”
“No prob. You’ll dry splice it. Then shave the edges of the head down so it’ll fit in your computer.”
See? He talks about it like it’s nothing for someone who’s never done that before. Thing is, I figured he was gonna help me on this one…but I was wrong.
“Dave…I gotta go meet someone else today. So, you gotta do this yourself.”
“Wh—“
“Dude, I thought you knew I was going somewhere!”
“You might’ve said it, but you say a lot!”
“…Well, anyway,” he handed me the clipped and stripped adapter pieces. “You can do this. Just keep that upright and untangled, and do what I told you.”
“Y—“
“You can do this, Dave.”
“I hate you.”
“Later!”
Okay, so it wasn’t QUITE like that, but it was close. So there I was, riding home on the train, trying to figure out how all this had happened. And trying to figure out how Matt manages to do stuff like this to me EVERY time. But, I break almost everything he owns, so…it’s the balance in our relationship.
I got home, and set myself to work, following everything I’d learned from the other David back at FullSail, and merging it with the crash course Matt gave me. Finally, I wrapped it all up in electric tape, plugged it in, and prayed my computer wouldn’t explode…and lo and behold…it worked! All was well, and I had no reason to kill Matt.
But it wasn’t over.
I was sitting at my computer two weeks later, preparing a worksheet for my high school students. …Oh, right! My high school kids!
Okay, so, twice a month on Saturdays, I teach at a high school in Mito. Thing is, these are the super smart kids. They catch on fast, and WANT to learn, which really helps balance the stupidity of the schools I teach during the week. They’re good kids, too. So, I’m very happy to go there, even on a Saturday morning.
So, I was making stuff for them, when my phone rang. I got up, answered, and turned around to see my laptop screen go white. All white. Then, the computer sang a cute little song. Then it went black. Then, I smelled the wonderful smell of burnt electronics. Now, this is not where I’m gonna think about whether or not my ghetto-rigged adapter had anything to do with the burning of my laptop video card. This is where I continue the story.
So, I sighed, knowing my computer was gone, but wasn’t all that worried. You see, in April, my mother actually shipped my tower over from the States, AND even earlier, Matt had given me a free flat panel monitor some dude didn’t need anymore. I’d tried turning on the tower a while back, but it did the something-very-small-and-hard-to-find-is-wrong-with-me beep, so I set it aside for a time when I’d be able to focus on it. I knew the computer had probably just gotten a bit jostled on the way over, so…no big deal. Besides, part of me hoped the laptop would just start working the next day. I mean…maybe it’s just me, but for some reason, my brain thinks electronics have some ability to heal over night. It knows that’s impossible, but…come on. Why not?
Next day proved my irrational thinking to be just that. I went to school, hoping to come home and get my tower working again quickly. But, again, WEIRRD stepped in. I took my computer apart (sorta) and put it back together…nothing. And from there I didn’t really know what else to do. I had neglected to ask my mother to send the user manuals for my motherboard (genius) so I couldn’t tell what the diagnostic readout was telling me. I was stuck. I was going to have to ask someone for help…and there was only one poor soul I could think of…and I really didn’t wanna bother him. But…
So James knows computers pretty well. He’s also willing to help people…usually. This was a wonderful combination that resulted in me bringing my computer to him the next day. So, there we sat, in his apartment, taking the computer apart again, and cleaning off the carpet of dust that had accumulated inside the poor machine in over a year. We laughed about dork jokes and the like for a while as we repaired mistakes from the original assembly, and put the computer back together. We chuckled as we reconnected the wires, and crossed our fingers as we pushed the power button. Then, I cursed as the same frickin’ beep went off.
“Oh, come on!” I said, almost punching the machine.
“Hmm…” said James. “Maybe it’s your power supply. But I can’t be sure unless I know what your motherboard is telling us.”
My motherboard has two little LEDs on it that give you a code for good or bad things. Had I the user manuals, we would’ve figured it out quickly. I had not the user manuals. So, we consulted the internet. Eventually, we found it, but the message didn’t really make sense. I can’t even really remember what it was.
“Okay,” said James. “I’m guessing from this that…it’s either your power supply…or the whole freaking motherboard and processor.”
“…So…I gotta buy a new power supply or motherboard?”
“Looks like it.”
“Power supply.”
“Good choice.”
Off we flew to the electronics store, which, I just wanna point out, has this awesome thing where…you can buy computer PARTS, and not whole computers. That means, if you want to build a machine, you can go to a real store, and not deal with online hassles or go to your “friend who knows a guy who really likes computers, but happens to look and act like a drug dealer/child molestor”.
We got back, disconnected the old supply and reconnected the new. And again, we pushed the button. Again, the beep. Again, I cursed.
“What IS this?!”
“Hmm…,” said James. “I wonder…”
Suddenly, James was removing the heat sink from the motherboard. Underneath, we found the processor, just slightly jostled out of place, meaning some idiot in the delivery system didn’t know what “fruh-jee-lay” means. I slapped my forehead as James put the computer back together, turned it on, and…all was well.
Needless to say, I owed the guy one, and I intended to pay him back, by finding a proper Japanese class for both of us.
Since May 11th, I’d been going to a Japanese class in a city west of here, called Oyama. Good city. Good class, but the teacher was movin’ a bit slow, so, before I brought James in on the action, I need to get this guy up to speed. Besides, the other guy in the class, a Turkish dude named Ali, is better than I am at Japanese. And James, well…he knows more than I do. I’ve just got the advantage of more speaking practice. So, I gotta get the teacher moving. I see a lot of promise in the class, though.
Outside of that, I saw Spiderman 3 with Yuka and James. I dunno what to say about that movie. Some days I’m cool with it. Other days, I wonder if I saw the right movie. I just…I don’t know what the heck that was, man. Really. And I saw Pirates 3 with Kyoko. That was enjoyable, but strange as well. I did find it funny that Kyoko and I were the only ones laughing that the hilarious anti-piracy commercials they have. If I can find those somewhere, I gotta post them.
Anyway…that’s May. Next up! June! The month of reflection, racism, regrets and…r…obots?
D
“So, David…how many classes do you have today?”
“One.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Won’t be here.”
“Wait…didn’t you miss those classes last week too?”
“Yep.”
“Let me look at your schedule.”
“By all means.”
“…@%#$!”
“Yeah…my thoughts exactly.”
Slick Sensei and I agree…the school board must hate junior high kids, and absolutely love the little demons of elementary schools. On that note, let’s introduce the schools of the years.
1. The School of Busted Walks. Ya’ll remember this place? Yeah. My favorite elementary school. They let me keep it. I’m so happy. But, Mr. Sick Teacher doesn’t work there anymore! That means, I’m completely separated from the Sick Teacher family! Y’all don’t know how much that hurt me, but it did. But I still have two buddies there. Tomoko (a teacher who invited me to dinner with her and her husband) and a new teacher, Ms. Kawashima. She’s my age, and I believe was brought in to replace Mr. Sick Teacher. But the three of us have our desks together, so we pretty much crack jokes all day. The kids are still total sweethearts there, and…this place is still my favorite school.
2. Littlest School. This place is new…waaaaay up north in my town. All the teachers there are old women who don’t really speak Japanese, but absolutely love me for some reason. The children at this school, and all the schools, swear I look like Ronaldihno…or however you spell his name. Soccer player, Brazil. Whatever. I’ve made it my mission everyday I’m there to try to bring the entire place down with my voice. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE” becomes a diaphragm exercise. Actually, I do this at all schools. It’s really strengthened my voice…though now I REALLY have no volume control. Anyway…this place is okay.
3. Too Close to Home. This school is my neighborhood school, and the kids that go there live very close to me. They’ve seen me walking around before. This cannot end well. But, the vice principal at this school is a cool guy. The teachers are great people, and…yeah, it’s all good. But, man…this school has more foreigners than I’m accustomed to. Like a little Pakistani boy, and a Fili—oh. Oh, okay, now THIS messed with me for a while. I was in the teachers’ room, talking to all the teachers and stuff when I saw someone. ‘Hey,’ I thought, ‘a Filipino teacher! A rather attractive Filipino teacher! I wonder if she’s an English teacher?’ Then, as two sixth grade girls ran up to her, and they all went giggling off to class, the horrible truth hit me. ‘She’s…twelve years old…at most. Well, now I’m going to hell.” I swear, man…she does NOT look twelve. That girl is totally out of place here…and yet, my place in hell has been decided. How do I know?
4. Hell. This is the worst school of the bunch. A school of loudmouthed, kancho-crazy, in-strong-need-of-a-backhand children. This is the home of the hecklers…the kids who constantly try to disrupt your flow in class. The kids who never stay in their chairs. The kids who, for some reason, already have rotting teeth. Kids with snot permanently encrusted around their nostrils. Kids who forget that I am, in fact, a human being…and actually ask questions that start to chip away at your tolerance for ignorance. Also the home of the violently retarded children. And you may think I’m trying to be funny with that one, but I’m dead serious. Violently retarded. This school has its good kids, and its horrible ones, but the horrible kids run the place. The teachers don’t even try to discipline the kids here, insisting that it’s cute. And honestly, on my third visit, I almost snapped. The teachers are good people, but man…
The sad part is…schools one and two, my favorite schools, I go to only once a month. School 3? 3 times. And Hell? EVERY WEEK. Now you know why I wasn’t too happy with the world this month.
But things got a bit worse. Now, way back in November, I noticed that the adapter on my laptop was kinda…acting up. It’d work if it was held in the right position, but…sometimes that position would change and stuff. But, as any Williams can, I learned to work around the malfunction, because I had neither the time nor the means to get a new one shipped here. Eventually, the problem left my mind…until the thing died on me in the second week of May, due to a broken wire inside the cord. Or was it April? …Anyway, Matt and I decided to make an excursion to Akihabara, the electronics district, hoping to repair our respective adapters (his had worn through as well).
Matt’s attempt ended in a bust. Either that, or he just didn’t wanna spend that much money on a new adapter from Dell. As for me, well…my (Jen’s) laptop is a bit old in computer terms, so the Dell shop didn’t sell that type of adapter anymore. What this meant was that I was gonna have to go scrounging through all the spare parts shops in Akihabara. And when you realize how many of those there are, you find that this is NO easy task. But I had my trusty Matt with me, so…off we went, asking questions in English and busted Japanese.
Eventually, we were on the trail of my adapter. Various shop owners were pointing us in the same direction, a place called QCD or something like that. They all seemed quite certain that this shop would have my adapter, and man…I was getting excited. Things might actually work out!
This is the time where I need to remind you guys of something I may have mentioned before. I’ve never named this phenomenon, but let’s try right now. Williams…Electronics Incompatilibility….and Return/Repair Disorder. WEIRRD. Perfect. So, this phenomenon is pretty simple. Any and every time the Williams family tries to make a major electronic purchase or repair, something…something goes wrong. Example: Super Nintendo. Somehow was incompatible with an old school Zenith TV. We had to send the brand new game system to some random fix-it-dude, where he installed a chip that would make the thing work properly. Totally ruined Christmas. Our first VCR was purchased AFTER the Nintendo. Literally burned out the moment I turned it on. A new big screen TV and refrigerator? Too big to get them to their respective rooms. New computer? The monitor was cracked. The list goes on. We always figure out a way around it, but these things have NEVER gone smoothly for us. Something always has to be sent back or fixed.
So, as we walked into QCD, I forgot about WEIRRD. I thought everything was gonna be awesome. In fact, it was! I found the adapter! It was a Dell! It was older! It was the wrong voltage! And even though the head of the adaptor looked almost exactly the same…there was a slight difference that could prove to be difficult. A simple chamfering of the corners. That’s all. And it was this slight difference that got Matt thinking.
If you don’t know Matt, he’s the kind of guy who has enough confidence to make everyone think they can do anything. Sometimes, I’ve had to channel his way of thinking when times get tough. In this moment, Matt decided it was time to do the impossible. We were gonna make this adapter work.
Minutes later, I was buying the adapter, and rushing from shop to shop to buy wire cutters, heat seals for exposed wires and electric tape.
“The crap are we doing, man?” I asked Matt, as he strode confidently to the next shop.
“You’re gonna splice those together. You only need the head of the new adapter, and the body of the old one. All you gotta do is clip both of them, pull the insulation and shrouding back a bit, splice them together, seal it up with the heat wraps, tape it up, and call it a day. You got a soldering iron, right?”
“No.”
“No prob. You’ll dry splice it. Then shave the edges of the head down so it’ll fit in your computer.”
See? He talks about it like it’s nothing for someone who’s never done that before. Thing is, I figured he was gonna help me on this one…but I was wrong.
“Dave…I gotta go meet someone else today. So, you gotta do this yourself.”
“Wh—“
“Dude, I thought you knew I was going somewhere!”
“You might’ve said it, but you say a lot!”
“…Well, anyway,” he handed me the clipped and stripped adapter pieces. “You can do this. Just keep that upright and untangled, and do what I told you.”
“Y—“
“You can do this, Dave.”
“I hate you.”
“Later!”
Okay, so it wasn’t QUITE like that, but it was close. So there I was, riding home on the train, trying to figure out how all this had happened. And trying to figure out how Matt manages to do stuff like this to me EVERY time. But, I break almost everything he owns, so…it’s the balance in our relationship.
I got home, and set myself to work, following everything I’d learned from the other David back at FullSail, and merging it with the crash course Matt gave me. Finally, I wrapped it all up in electric tape, plugged it in, and prayed my computer wouldn’t explode…and lo and behold…it worked! All was well, and I had no reason to kill Matt.
But it wasn’t over.
I was sitting at my computer two weeks later, preparing a worksheet for my high school students. …Oh, right! My high school kids!
Okay, so, twice a month on Saturdays, I teach at a high school in Mito. Thing is, these are the super smart kids. They catch on fast, and WANT to learn, which really helps balance the stupidity of the schools I teach during the week. They’re good kids, too. So, I’m very happy to go there, even on a Saturday morning.
So, I was making stuff for them, when my phone rang. I got up, answered, and turned around to see my laptop screen go white. All white. Then, the computer sang a cute little song. Then it went black. Then, I smelled the wonderful smell of burnt electronics. Now, this is not where I’m gonna think about whether or not my ghetto-rigged adapter had anything to do with the burning of my laptop video card. This is where I continue the story.
So, I sighed, knowing my computer was gone, but wasn’t all that worried. You see, in April, my mother actually shipped my tower over from the States, AND even earlier, Matt had given me a free flat panel monitor some dude didn’t need anymore. I’d tried turning on the tower a while back, but it did the something-very-small-and-hard-to-find-is-wrong-with-me beep, so I set it aside for a time when I’d be able to focus on it. I knew the computer had probably just gotten a bit jostled on the way over, so…no big deal. Besides, part of me hoped the laptop would just start working the next day. I mean…maybe it’s just me, but for some reason, my brain thinks electronics have some ability to heal over night. It knows that’s impossible, but…come on. Why not?
Next day proved my irrational thinking to be just that. I went to school, hoping to come home and get my tower working again quickly. But, again, WEIRRD stepped in. I took my computer apart (sorta) and put it back together…nothing. And from there I didn’t really know what else to do. I had neglected to ask my mother to send the user manuals for my motherboard (genius) so I couldn’t tell what the diagnostic readout was telling me. I was stuck. I was going to have to ask someone for help…and there was only one poor soul I could think of…and I really didn’t wanna bother him. But…
So James knows computers pretty well. He’s also willing to help people…usually. This was a wonderful combination that resulted in me bringing my computer to him the next day. So, there we sat, in his apartment, taking the computer apart again, and cleaning off the carpet of dust that had accumulated inside the poor machine in over a year. We laughed about dork jokes and the like for a while as we repaired mistakes from the original assembly, and put the computer back together. We chuckled as we reconnected the wires, and crossed our fingers as we pushed the power button. Then, I cursed as the same frickin’ beep went off.
“Oh, come on!” I said, almost punching the machine.
“Hmm…” said James. “Maybe it’s your power supply. But I can’t be sure unless I know what your motherboard is telling us.”
My motherboard has two little LEDs on it that give you a code for good or bad things. Had I the user manuals, we would’ve figured it out quickly. I had not the user manuals. So, we consulted the internet. Eventually, we found it, but the message didn’t really make sense. I can’t even really remember what it was.
“Okay,” said James. “I’m guessing from this that…it’s either your power supply…or the whole freaking motherboard and processor.”
“…So…I gotta buy a new power supply or motherboard?”
“Looks like it.”
“Power supply.”
“Good choice.”
Off we flew to the electronics store, which, I just wanna point out, has this awesome thing where…you can buy computer PARTS, and not whole computers. That means, if you want to build a machine, you can go to a real store, and not deal with online hassles or go to your “friend who knows a guy who really likes computers, but happens to look and act like a drug dealer/child molestor”.
We got back, disconnected the old supply and reconnected the new. And again, we pushed the button. Again, the beep. Again, I cursed.
“What IS this?!”
“Hmm…,” said James. “I wonder…”
Suddenly, James was removing the heat sink from the motherboard. Underneath, we found the processor, just slightly jostled out of place, meaning some idiot in the delivery system didn’t know what “fruh-jee-lay” means. I slapped my forehead as James put the computer back together, turned it on, and…all was well.
Needless to say, I owed the guy one, and I intended to pay him back, by finding a proper Japanese class for both of us.
Since May 11th, I’d been going to a Japanese class in a city west of here, called Oyama. Good city. Good class, but the teacher was movin’ a bit slow, so, before I brought James in on the action, I need to get this guy up to speed. Besides, the other guy in the class, a Turkish dude named Ali, is better than I am at Japanese. And James, well…he knows more than I do. I’ve just got the advantage of more speaking practice. So, I gotta get the teacher moving. I see a lot of promise in the class, though.
Outside of that, I saw Spiderman 3 with Yuka and James. I dunno what to say about that movie. Some days I’m cool with it. Other days, I wonder if I saw the right movie. I just…I don’t know what the heck that was, man. Really. And I saw Pirates 3 with Kyoko. That was enjoyable, but strange as well. I did find it funny that Kyoko and I were the only ones laughing that the hilarious anti-piracy commercials they have. If I can find those somewhere, I gotta post them.
Anyway…that’s May. Next up! June! The month of reflection, racism, regrets and…r…obots?
D
Monday, July 02, 2007
Whatever the reason may be, I’ve apparently gathered a few fans of my writing…though I think they might have me confused with a certain other black dude in Japan. Anyway, I was recently informed of the fact that those fans are wonderin’ what the heck I’m doin’. Truth be told, not much, besides teaching and studying…but let’s review. We’ll do this in months to get y’all caught up nice and quick.
First off….APRIL!!! (Note to reader…these will be written as if the other months have yet to happen.)
Aaight, so…I started the new year at my new junior high school, which, to be honest, left much to be desired. This isn’t to say that my new school is bad…it’s just that I was pretty happy back at North Junior High. Now, I’m chillin’ in the West school, closer to my apartment, and far less busy than before. You see…this school figures I should meet each class only once a week. That’s twelve classes. Every week. I work for 12 hours. Every week. Do the math, okay? What do I do with the rest of my time? Why, I think of humorous nicknames for everyone on the staff! Roll call time.
There are three English teachers. The Dude. The Short One. The Tall One.
The Dude – This guy’s cool. His English is really good too. In his classes, I’m pretty much just a parrot, but he definitely knows how to control his classroom and keep the kids excited. And trust me…any dude that can control and keep the attention of a bunch of first years…deserves some respect. He talks to me the most, in both English and Japanese…and we exchange knowing glances when the school lunch just ain’t up to par. I think he and I will get along just fine.
The Short One – Okay, this little lady’s hilarious for some reason. I think she’s just a little older than me, but a whole heckuvalot shorter. And, oddly enough, I can’t help but watch her. She’s like…an animator’s case study or something. Seriously, every movement is…well, she’s just so small that watching her move it…I can’t explain it! I don’t think my brain can understand how someone my age can be that small. And she’s one of those folks with an undeniable baby face, and quite possibly the shiniest eyes I’ve ever seen. Because of this, I have another nickname for her—Stitch. And few people can deny Stitch’s cuteness. But see…that nickname ain’t all good. She suffers from JBG syndrome. Japanese Busted Grill Syndrome. This is not a blemish on her personality at all…in fact it makes me sad that Japanese dentists ain’t up to speed to help this girl out. And they tried…I can tell. But it’s like they tried without caring about the finished product…color coordination or anything. If I meet her dentist, I will punch him.
The Tall One – Now this girl apparently is a month or two younger than me, but has some height on her side…meaning she’s like 5’7” probably. But in my mind, she’s 5’11”. She’s cool, and speaks English in a way that doesn’t sound like a Japanese accent or anything… It’s weird. She’s in charge of all the second years, and her classes seem to LOVE me. They cheer when I walk in. And The Tall One seems quite relieved to have me around.
The rest of the staff…only a few get names, as most people there don’t talk to me yet.
Slick Sensei – Oh, I love this dude. He was an English teacher back at South Junior High, but they brought him here to watch out for the new teachers, such as The Short One. Mrs. Sick Teacher told me I’d be working with him, and that he was a VERY respectable teacher, so I was expecting to have to learn some serious polite Japanese, but…nope! This guy’s hilarious. He sits right next to me, and talks to me in English all day, giving me inside info on teachers, classes, students and Japanese life. He knows I’m studying Japanese and has offered to teach me for one hour every Monday. Truth is…he teaches me ALL day. We joke about how I’m being paid to study Japanese, too. And he’s always saying things like, “Okay David…it’s break time. There’s a convenience store on the corner. We’ve got three more hours of the day, and nothing to do. I say….you go to the store, grab some beers, and we go in the courtyard and gulp them down as fast as we can.” “What about the principal?” I ask. “…Fine, get him some beers too!” Like I said…love this dude.
Mrs. Buxley – I call this woman this because of the character from the old Beetle Bailey comics…a secretary to everyone in the office, and how I learned to understand what the word “buxom” meant. Now…this girl’s built differently than the Japanese women, meaning she’s actually got curves, but…I’m honestly unsure as to whether or not she’d be considered fat over here. Somethin’ tells me she is… But, hey, she tries to speak what little English she knows with me, so we’re cool.
Big Man – Aaight…this dude’s got good qualities and bad ones. Good: He’s always laughing and smiling. He’s been kind enough to try to help me with the crazy coffee machine they got here, and he’s given me Dole Popsicles. Bad: …okay, this requires some backstory. One sentence actually. In Japan, dudes can break out and pee anywhere they want, any time, no harassment from cops. This has resulted in a really weird view of peein’ by some Japanese dudes. One that reminds me of the rules of my father… So, sometimes I’ll be in the restroom after drinking my usual 3 liters of water a day. Big Man comes in, checks his hair or something, and leaves, BUT leaves the door WIDE open. People, there are teenage girls walking around in that school…and I don’t care in the urinals have the little dividers between them (which barely protect me, considering my height)…I’m trying NOT to get fired ya know? Everyone else closes the door…not Big Man. Heck, when he’s in there, he leaves the door wide open too! He and gotta reach some accord on this… The other bad thing is that…well, he can’t help this, but…his voice. It’s almost like…the Japanese Louie Anderson. That’s not his fault! I’m just sayin’…I noticed one of the third years at my last school talking like that, all nasally and what not, and I realized I’d heard it elsewhere too. It’s…an acceptable way of speaking in this country. But, man…it cuts me to the CORE. Me and Big Man…we got some issues to work out, but we’ll be okay.
The Big Girls – I call them this because…they’re the heaviest ones on staff, but are sweethearts. They talk to me everyday…all in Japanese of course…and always give me little snacks and treats throughout the day. They’re always laughing and joking. I love these two, and they’re my real test in Japanese…because they really don’t try to speak any English, but ask me things about English…which I have to explain in Japanese. Totally…not…easy.
There are others, but they’ll get names later. For now, just know that my first three weeks were spent only at this school, and…my job really isn’t a job. I just study all day and get compliments from everyone about how fast my Japanese is improving.
…I still miss the kids from my old school, though. Maybe I’ll get to visit them one day…
I’ll tell y’all about May next time.
D
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Okay, people…I know it’s been a while, and—okay, I say that all the time. Here’s how we’re gonna play it. It’s a new school year. That means new contract, new school, new plans, new way of wearing my hair…whole lotta newness. That said, we must acknowledge the fact that there are a lot of stories I’m gonna have to skip. I am not going back and fillin’ you in on the last whatever amount of days it’s been because…well, that’s in the past, and you don’t need to worry about it. Plus I’d experienced yet another phase of “the twenties” that I refuse to write about.
Anyway, let’s cover the recent stuff, k? Sister, Megan, came to
Meanwhile, my sister liked my lil’ “farmtown”, and agrees…there’s an eerie Florida-ishness to this place. And it’s…stealthy. Sneaks up on ya in weird places, smells, and flavors.
I do need to apologize to my sister’s friend, Trudy, who was quite miserable during certain parts of the trip. I intended to warn her about the oncoming truth: the focus was going to be on my sister, because she is MY sister, and the people here really want to know about things connected to me. So, poor Trudy got pushed to the wayside, much to my dismay. I tried to balance things as best as I can, but, ya know…yeah. So, sorry, Trudy. Didn’t get to warn ya ‘bout that one. Tell you what…you no longer owe me a camera for that “swole” comment on my MySpace, k? I think we’re even now.
Anyway, Megan and Trudy got to meet some of my best Japanese friends, including a restaurant owner named Hideki, a cool digital artist named Akira, and my Japanese family, who once again came through with the food. Crab and some really good rice and…man. I wish we could’ve stayed longer, but the poor girls were dying. And I sorta narrowly escaped too long a meeting between my sister and The Daughter. Though, I wasn’t even worried about that. I kinda wish they had gotten to talk longer. Shoot, she barely eve—no, she didn’t even speak any English! Must’ve been tired. But apparently, she was impressed by how much Japanese I’d picked up. Whatever. The funniest part is that The Daughter’s cousin, a dude named Yudai, seemed absolutely entranced by the two women I brought with me. But, ya know…the whole time I was very happy. In that room were some of the people I apparently value the most, which…makes no sense in some cases because I barely know them! But everyone was talking and laughing, and…I dunno, it just made me feel very…warm. Usually, when I try to bring two of my many worlds together, all we get is chaos and awkwardness, or a big ol’ testosterone contest (Matt…Scott), but this time it all gelled. Even Trudy began to feel better it seemed, and The Father was havin’ a good ol’ time trying to pronounce her name. I do hope we get to repeat that dinner sometime. Maybe my mother or father will be there as well next time, if I can trick them into coming here.
In other news, all the old ALTs done gone and left. That means Will, Andrew and Scott, whose real names are Billy, Aaron and Sean are aaaaaaall gone. I’m the last one…which hit me after we dropped Billy off at the airport. But, now, James is here. James is a friend from way back, thoroughly tied into the Nina debacle, and fully equipped with a crazy Mel story of his own! (Blasted monks) James and I are now the
Back in FL, my friend Matt Pena has begun working at FullSail, in my old position! I’m very happy about this. That is an awesome place to work, and there isn’t a day that I’m here that I don’t wish I could still be there, goofing off with the friends I made while I was there. I know they said I always have a job upon my return, but I always feel guilty for leaving in the first place, and worse for every moment I decide to stay longer. C’est la vie.
Let’s talk about the future now. I’m starting at a new school. I’ve no clue what to expect. Could be fun, could be horrible. Whatever. Either way, I’ll roll with it, and come out on top. I’ll also be teaching three eikaiwas, teaching at a high school on Saturday mornings, and doing a language exchange with a friend of mine. I’m studying Japanese with more fervor than ever before. And now that James is here, I have someone who won’t let me make the excuse of, “Well, they don’t speak any Japanese and seem to get along JUST fine.” On top of that, in some weird stroke of luck, James and I went to a meeting with the school board, and ended up with gym memberships. Yeah, you heard that cracking sound, right? That was your sense of logic…snapping in two. This is where I’m supposed to repair it, but…nah. Just let it be known that you’re gonna see a repeat of last year. We are officially in…Week One. I will exercise like a madman until my birthday. That’s six months from now. This exercise will be accompanied by extensive Japanese study, hopefully resulting in something around Level 2 Proficiency in the language. I’d aim for Level 1, but…I like breathing. Level 1 will be reserved for next year. Trust me…Level 2 is enough of a challenge. But I’m doin’ okay. Huge holes remain in my current knowledge, and I need to go back and patch them up, and vocabulary will ALWAYS be my weak point…which tells me what I must do to truly grow. Wish me luck again, folks. And don’t worry, I’m not talking about yet another six months of chicken and spinach…gawd. But I’ll probably end up really REALLY hating tofu after all this is over. Good thing it ain’t got no flavor!
I’m looking at the next year with a lot of excitement. Despite my daunting schedule, I feel no real pressure…ya know, other than the fact that my friends will never see me. They’ll tough it out though, right? Right! Remember friends, Sunday is the day. You wanna hang with me? Sunday. That’s my day of rest and relaxation. Or you can come to the gym with me. Thems your choices. I’m here to grow, and I’ve found my means. Let me do my thing.
D
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