No Such Thing As Overkill.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

In my life and in my posts, there is no such thing as overkill.

Today I went to see the fireflies again. Third time this week, and the only reason why I didn't go yesterday was because I was hashing out harmonies in Chuo Koen. Getting devoured by the damn mosquitos, might I add. I'll go again on Friday with G, and maybe I'll drag other people along one more time if the fireflies are still alive.

The fireflies are important to me, in the same way cherry blossoms are important. They're only around for a very short period of time, and this'll probably be the last time I'll get to see them in Japan. I'm trying to say goodbye to stuff, and that means getting my absolute fill of whatever I'm focusing on.

I went last year to look at fireflies on some sweaty evening, by myself, in the dark. I was freaked out because I didn't know if it was the right place and I was afraid I was walking into someone's driveway so I only went about halfway down the path before scurrying back to my car.

This year was different. When the cherry blossoms were in bloom, I wandered the park by the airport a lot. It's a lot better than you'd think. It took maybe...3 hours to walk the whole thing (on three separate days, however). The last day I went in April it was ridiculously windy. Howling through the trees windy. And I discovered a great lookout point. I couldn't see much, but it made me feel like I was playing Oregon Trail, and I was peering into a safe, welcoming valley. I haven't seen much like it in real life, so that's all I have to compare it to.

Right, from that point, surprisingly, I recognized the udon shop by the firefly place. Something reminded me to go this week, and it was a lot better than last year, where I saw maybe three or four fireflies, and I was all bummed because I was playing mail tag with G and he ended up not coming.

It's hard to explain what makes me go back so many times. I get this impression from movies that fireflies fill the air while they bob and sway. (Although I couldn't name a movie with fireflies in it except for the one we watched last week, "When the Last Sword Was Drawn" and that depressing "Grave" one that I haven't seen.) And the ones I saw, they swoop and stuff, but they stay over their little canal. Tonight they're flying higher, so maybe I just need to wait a little longer.

I guess it also has to do with the weather. It's cool at night still, and the frogs are chirping, but not screaming. Yes, when there's enough of them, they scream. Ear-ringing screams. So it's cool with a warm breeze, and there're frogs and fireflies, and there's no way you can be grumbly when nature's being so accomodating. I took G there on Monday, and it's even better when there's a hand to hold.

Tonight there were more people, and I saw an old student. She's probably 16, maybe 17 by now. She was sending mails on her phone almost the whole time and I had to laugh. She was with her family, but still dressed up, and intent on staying in touch with her friends. Silly girl. She was squatting off to the side and someone informed her that she shouldn't be pissing there. Then her little sister (cousin) announced that she had to pee. Great. The little cousin had a small lantern shaped like a Hello Kitty head. Absolutely adorable.

I told my ex-student that I knew her (other) cousin, and she was impressed. She wanted to know why, and I just said he was a really happy kid. I didn't tell her that the damn kid runs around my English classes at the kindergarten (well, he's only three, and apparently he likes me) and likes to pull/bite/kick/grab other students. Even older students. I hope he grows out of it. I know his whole name, and for a new student, that's impressive. I only know one other 3-year-old's full name, and that's because I am absolutely in love with him. He gives me hugs and says goodbye and asks the kids who are screaming bloody murder to be quiet. And he's 3! He's going to forget me in a year or two and it'll break my heart.

Back to the ex-student. Turns out I saw her family on Monday. Her father shone this bigass bright light at me and G and didn't return our "Good Evening." Lame. But he was nice and friendly tonight when he found out I was a teacher. So there.

Later, a couple families with small kids arrived. One kid kept saying totaru! totaru! instead of hotaru. Her mom kept correcting her too. The other girl kept insisting on being held, just a little higher. It's banal when I regurgitate it, but it was really cute at the time. Right before they went home, both kids were sitting on their mothers' shoulders, a little sleepy but still fascinated. I wanted to take a picture, but those moments don't catch when they're complete strangers.

So that's pretty much my life now. I love it. No TV, no more insane nights out 'til the buttcrack of Dawn, just fireflies and frogs and a slight summer breeze. Going back to the suburbs might kill me.

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Holiday?

Monday, May 29, 2006

Yesterday I went to the town sports day. That means I "worked." Usually I get a day off on Monday to replace "working" on a Sunday. I find this silly because I'd probably go anyway since the whole elementary school has to be there. But don't tell Them that because I also like getting a free day off. Anyway, I didn't get today off, and I'm kinda grumbly about that. G gets today off because he had a sports day yesterday, and it would've been nice to bum around with him all day.

Anyway, I get home to relax, check up on the internet. Like no one has posted anything. What the hell? It's Monday, their Sunday, and they should be churning out content. Points to my sister for posting about her genius ipod. And I decide that it's just a slow day. Maybe the weather is nice. Let's see if Zefrank has something new. No, but I forgot to watch Friday's clip, and wouldn't you know, he's taking a long weekend. For Memorial Day.

Oh. I always forget about those patriotic ones.

That's all.

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Someone Else's Snippet

Thursday, May 25, 2006

"slamming into an enormous black bear at 60 miles an hour is kinetically equivalent to driving into a brick wall."

Forgive the 1am coffee high, but that a beautiful comparison.

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Yes I do.

Okay, time for some wacky Japan postings.

Today was a local shrine festival. Nothing special, just lots of booths with your typical fare--goldfish game, corn on the cob (fuck you 500 yen!), takoyaki, hamburger on a stick (meat only), french fries, ice cream...I had a lot of fun. It's kind of a bittersweet thing because this was the first year I was aware of it. It would've passed again this year except both my kindergarten kids and my elementary school kids asked if I was going. One girl asked where she should wait for me. (I think.) How could I resist that?

So I went, and I ate a hamburger on a stick, drank "peach soda" (::cough:: shaved ice syrup mixed with club soda), shared french fries with some graduated students, and bounced from group to group of students. I complimented them on their lovely high heels (jeebus kids, I didn't wear heels like that until, well, ever), I admired pedicures, and even inspected a 7th grader's pierced ear. (Big big no no. It came up in the staff meeting this afternoon, and I just had to check it out.) I got punched by some kid (typical), and watched kids try to catch goldfish and freshwater eels (the latter with a hook, for eating, not keeping).

There's this one guy who's graduated that has two holes in his left ear. Two! And he keeps two giant crystalesque studs in them. Pencil eraser, maybe bigger. And he has this cute little girlfriend that must've gone to the same junior high school, but I just can't place her. They're cute. The boy seems bad, but for the record, he's the only one ever in three years to tell me what verb tense I was using in a casual conversation. Love the kid. Here's the conversation we three had (more or less):

Girl: "Look what he did!" (She's got two more hickeys on her neck. I saw them, I swear, like last week, and she only had one.)

Me, to him: "Bad boy. She's a nice girl [no clue, actually]. Do you love her?"

Guy: "Yes I do." (IN ENGLISH! JUST LIKE THAT! I wish I could've praised him without blowing his cool vibe.)

Me: "Why do you do that? Sad. She's cute. In the summer, she'll want to wear cute low-cut shirts. Now she'll have to wear a scarf. Lame."

The girl nods with me. Dumb proprietary boys. Neither one of us is really angry about it, but I feel bad for the girl. Hickeys sure are ugly. I think I also told her to give him one on his cheek.

I also bargained with my motorcycle gangsta kid (hilarious, a little bad, intelligent, obsessed with motorcycles). He had a friend on the back of his bike, and that's SOOOOO BAD. Not allowed. Nope, not at all. (Note to non-Japaners--this is funny because my primary mode of transportation in the city is on the pegs of my boyfriend's bike.) I told him I wouldn't tell the other teachers if he's good during English class. I told his friend (7th grade mouthy twat idiot) the same thing. Such threats resound so sweetly when I can call them by name.

I wish I had taken more photos of my kids all blinged out. One kid had a shiny silver cross (complete with shiny approximation of a hanging Jesus) about 3-4 inches long. I told him it was too big. I don't even bother explaining the whole Christianity connotation anymore. The WWJD bracelets wore me out, as I don't possess the vocabulary for religious explanations.

And then I went to English conversation class and one woman ranted in a very cute way that she and her husband never talk. He's a quiet guy, she said, and if she didn't initiate conversation, they would never talk at all. She once stopped talking to him, and they didn't talk for two months. Two months. While she's breastfeeding a baby. The only reason why she started talking to him again was because she had a fever. I had to think about that one for awhile.

And then I went over to this woman's house. She has a beautiful house. They just built it...maybe a year or two ago. I've only seen the downstairs, but let's sum it up in one observation: TV built into the wall in the bathroom. A small one, but really. built in! I'm going to devote an entry to that house someday.

Back to these Thursday night get togethers. It's awesome, in this weird way. I get to hang out with 6-7 women who are older than my parents (save one, who is only 5 years older than me), and listen to what real Japan is like. They pour over the grocery ads, we watch TV, we drink coffee, they ask questions sometimes. This is the Japan I wanted. Sitting and zoning out and listening and not giving a damn about rules I may or may not be breaking.

Tonight I got my nails done by their ringleader. She did almost everyone's nails. After that, she colored someone's hair. I call her crazy, but it's only a mild crazy. She's one of my favorite stereotype breakers. She's a temple minister's wife, but doesn't hold back her gregarious socialite personality. I'm reading that Ya-Ya Sisterhood book right now, and it feels like Ringleader Crazy would fit in quite well with those brassy personalities (if she didn't also possess the mandatory Japanese self-control). A few weeks ago we made hand-rolled sushi, and she dropped a fish egg on the ground. One of those big orange ones. With barely a pause, she picked it up and popped it in her mouth. Didn't even look at it for dust (not that there was any dust in that lovely house).

Final thought: did you know that "NEED TO DUMP" can be anagrammed into (among other things) "Mended Pout"? I amaze myself sometimes. Desperation truly is a great inspiration.

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Unlike

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

When people feel the need for change, it seems that they lop their hair off (or perhaps intentionally grow hair in different places), or buy new clothes. Me, for whatever reasons, (probably because it used to be punishment when I scratched people,) I cut off my nails. Sometimes all the way down (wow, fingertips are really sensitive! I always forget until I cut my nails off.), and sometimes just enough so that the kids stop commenting on how long my nails are. I'm getting to the point where my typing becomes inaccurate, I guess a trim wouldn't hurt.

There's more to say than that, of course, but I promised myself that I wouldn't rant about my private life on the internet anymore.

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PS: Four

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

When did Banana Republic go tacky-frumpy? I must be cranky. Some things are okay, but I feel like BR is becoming the Gap and the Gap is turning into Old Navy. No clue about Old Navy, because I don't bother looking there.

I want chocolate chip cookies.

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I'm gonna be sick.

One: because I've been eating imported tortilla chips made by Doritos. They're mostly satisfying, but I've gotten chubby because of it. And because they're full of preservatives and coloring and things I don't want to think about.

Two: Watched some clips of "American Otakus" going to Tokyo. It got boingboinged, but here's the address anyway:
http://libationkowloon.blogspot.com/2006/05/tv-in-japan-otaku-from-usa.html
http://libationkowloon.blogspot.com/2006/05/otaku-from-usa-part-2.html

Some Japanese program followed them around. I still haven't decided what I think about the anime/manga freaks. If they keep it to themselves, that's okay, I think, but when they start integrating the vocabulary into their native conversations, I get edgy.

I think I get nauseous because growing up, I attached this notion that such people, deep down, wish they were Japanese. They take up some martial art, they study the language half-heartedly...or maybe I'm just remembering the creepy boys who used to ask me random vaguely oriental-oriented questions. But I digress.

I guess it's just the obsession with the exotic Other that gets to me. Am I being dated because he's got the Fetish? Etc etc etc etc.

It didn't help that the guy the video clips focused on was one of those doofy geek-types. Plenty of Japanese blunders. And he was chubby-ish, further reinforcing the notion that Americans are fat. The black guy with the dreds didn't get interviewed, although I think I heard him say "Alright, a maid cafe."

Some other guy bought a maid costume because his 15-year-old daughter was into...goth-lolis maybe? I don't know. But I'm glad it wasn't translated into Japanese. They just said that Americans had some strange omiyage.

And Three: The guy who translated the tv clips also recently got a Japanese passport, and Japanese citizenship. And I'll give him credit for going through it all, whatever his reasons are. He doesn't seem like your typical lifer, all boozy and illiterate, but he did have this to say:

Having citizenship also changes the attitudes of people around you. Foreign residents, no matter how long they stay, are always assumed to be guests, and are thus constantly subjected to less than welcoming questions such as "when are you leaving Japan?" and "can you eat Japanese fish?" Being a citizen is really the ultimate nullifying answer to all these questions, and it allows people to open themselves up a little more as it gives you an air of permanence. There are a lot of other minor perks like this too, which I'm sure I'll find out about once I'm accepted.

(It gets quite ranty here, just to warn you.)

Uhm. Uhm, no. Perhaps in his country--he's from the UK somewhere--but I'm pretty sure that he won't be joining the "Japanese Citizens' Club" any time soon. He'll gain the respect from close friends that know what he did and why he did it, but for your typical old man on the street, he's still Mr. Gaijin. How do I know this? I used to get ranted to about how irritating it was that the cashier would always try to speak English even when asked a question in flawless, properly polite language. It's obvious that I'm Japanese-proficient, was the thought, why am I still being treated like a giant pale retard? [ahem, my words, not theirs] And the answer is, because they don't know that. You can't SEE fluency when you're walking down the street. Just like you can't tell what nationality someone is. This guy is going to keep getting "Oh, you're so good at using chopsticks!" but now, he'll be able to rub in his Japanese authenticity even more.

And yes, I do feel bad ranting about this guy. I'm sure he's not a bad guy. He doesn't post pictures of his pornographic doll collection (well, for the record, he doesn't give access to his archives unless they're linked), he doesn't seem to act too elitist. (Minus points, however, for ranting about "What exactly is a Japanese fish?" in broken mouseover, that I've removed. "Japanese fish" is probably an overtranslation of something.) But being a proper citizen won't change another's initial impression until you intentionally drag it into the conversation.

On the flip side: my damn kids still think I'm Japanese. At the elementary school, I wear a name tag (like all the other teachers do), and my name is written out in katakana. (Annoying, but forgiveable--no one asked me before I got here, and every. last. damn. thing. is done in katakana.) I have two Japanese names, middle and last, just like almost everyone else of my generation and ethnic makeup. They ask me where I'm from and are always always always impressed when I tell them America. And at the same time that they're thinking I'm Japanese, they're all, "Holy cow! You can eat sashimi! Holy cow! You can eat natto!" (Although I will smugly say that some Japanese people don't like natto.) Ugh, I'm pretty sure I contradicted myself a few times, but mostly that was to illustrate that JAPANESE PEOPLE AREN'T ALWAYS THAT OBSERVANT PAYING ATTENTION. That's what happens when you've grown up in a homogenous society: your brain makes shortcuts.

Last example: One of my teachers that met my parents and my maternal grandparents HAS THOUGHT THAT MY FATHER WAS "AMERICAN." I don't know if she thought he was white, or just "Not Japanese" but she has thought this for...almost two years. I gave her the rude incredulous look because she deserved it. MY FAMILY NAME IS JAPANESE. And she's not one of those stupid people, I'm pretty sure. Just not observant.

Annnd I'm spent.

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Flying pigs abound.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Today I used a gawddamn hotpack today because I was outside. All. Day. Except. For. Lunch. Ugh. And it was cold! Like 20 (68F, and I was underdressed)! My fingers were blue. I was amazed. Last year I'm pretty sure I was sweaty and gross by now.

I also made the terrible realization that when I go home, a quick udon lunch will not be an option. And the noodles will probably be slimy and overcooked. I'm going to start making udon at home, watch me. I went to some noodle restaurant website, and they had their prices listed. Something like 5 bucks for a bowl of niku (meat) udon! WHAT? Well, uhm, no, the place I usually go to charges about $4.50. But 450 yen is a steal for lunch here.

There's a post rotting in the draft section. Someday I'll put pictures from my vacation in there.

I got a new camera today, to replace the old one that died from too much drink. (I kid you not.) And after I gleefully ripped the box open, put in the battery and a memory card, I was done with it. Done. Talk about overstimulated. I guess it's not shiny enough.

Today I also paid my car tax. Whee. But what makes it extra special is that it was last year's car tax, as in, overdue. Super overdue. And I'm way proud of myself. Instead of hiding the notification (which came in an uncharacteristic red envelope), I took it to school, asked about it, and paid it this afternoon. Problem solved in 48 hours. (I was too busy on Wednesday, really.) But I was amazed. I asked at 3:30, I knew what I had to do by 3:45, and I was on my way to city hall by 4:25.

I can hear your eyes glazing over. I'll stop.

But let's rejoice over one more little thing: I found the store that sells tortillas! After almost three years! Hooray!

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Two for two.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

I drove for two hours (roundtrip) for a two-hour rehearsal. I now understand why a lot of the far east/west siders don't come to town very often. And why fellow cast members bitch so much during rehearsal. Transit makes everyone cranky. I will award myself extra points because I can't sleep or read on the way home, unlike people who take the train.

Okay, time to eat my bento, which is 5 hours old.

And since I'm obsessed with the weather, here's an update. It's definitely spring, past the pretty flowering trees part, and it's still a little chilly. It's halfway through May, and I'm still wearing socks. What gives? Two years ago my family came to visit, and I was gross and sweaty after a 15 minute walk to their hotel. Curse the humidity. I guess I'm glad it's not that humid.

The kids are outside practicing for sports day, and I'm catching a cold. Ugh. Some poor girl was rocking back and forth because she was sick and cold. She was sick and cold and coughing, but she still sat outside to watch practice. Whose idea was that? I've been here for long enough where I know it could actually be her choice, to be there with the team instead of getting healthy.

No really, I'll get that bento now.

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And while I'm writing...

Monday, May 15, 2006

I guess I should note that I have about three months left in Japan. Three months, after almost three years. The frogs are chorusing nonstop, and they'll only get louder. I remember one time, maybe last year, when I woke up at 3am because the frogs had finally stopped for a moment.

Time stopped for me here. I feel ageless. Twenty...something. Not because I don't want to face becoming an adult, but because it really doesn't matter. 23? 25? 36? Doesn't make a damn difference. I remember setting a low, humble goal--learning how to be happy. It was more of a desperate grab, after the mess that was university, but I knew I needed a goal of some sort. Happiness was a good place to start.

I can do that now, along with a few other things--read a bar menu, navigate a few train stations. I'm not fully integrated in my community, but that's partially because I guarded my freedom. No extra-curriculars (buubuu--failed, I'm currently on musical number two), no taiko, pottery, dance, music...nothing. I miss having hobbies and passions, but I don't miss coming home at 11pm after two or three meetings or rehearsals.

I'm disappointed that I haven't done more, but then I look at this past weekend: I went to town late on Friday (tired and uninspired), Saturday was lunch-rehearsal-birthday party, Sunday was rehearsal and dinner with a friend, and then we passed out. That was a full weekend, and I didn't even leave the city. No, I needed to slow down, regardless of all the facinating things I'm missing. These past three years are unique because I'm in Japan, but they're also precious because I can be free. I'm going to miss that a whole bunch.

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Epicurean I am not.

Yesterday I had quesadillas for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The only reason I only had two (tiny) quesadillas is because I ran out of tortillas. The reason I stopped eating pizza is because I kept collapsing when I wasn't stuffing my face.

I am going to get so fat when I get home. Especially when I can get my hands on alfredo cup o' noodle. ::sigh::

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Mistaken Identity

Well, the BBC accidentally pulled a cab driver guy who was there for a job interview in for a live interview (links to boingboing.net post) instead of the guy they really wanted. Blah blah they wanted Guy Kewney's opinion on the Apple vs. Apple case. The case was interesting, but what I really want to know is how much BBC backstage was freaking out while this woman interviews the wrong guy. And just in case you want to know how much they messed up, here's the comparison:

This is Guy Kewney. He's an IT journalist, blah blah netnewswire geek geek something. Guy Kewney had the grace to point out that the guy below isn't a taxi driver. (netnewswire link)



This is NOT Guy Kewney. His name is Guy Goma, thus the misunderstanding. He's a French taxi driver guy from Congo who was there for an IT job interview, He also had the grace to play along. He should totally get hired for not making the BBC look stupider.



Now, don't you want to click the link (which links to the YouTube clip)? Oh yes you do.

Hilarious.

[updated on 5.16 to fix the details, etc.]

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Golden Week Hilarity.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

So we're doing all this last minute floundering for hotels. Beggars can't be choosers and what not. And now we're up to a seven-day trip, and that's not too shabby. While you might not give a damn about where I'm going (a handful of islands), I figured you would enjoy seeing the hotels I'll be staying at:



And this is the view from another hotel. For once I hope I don't get a bayside view...

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BBC is better than CNN.

Well, the website at least. Don't ask me about content or layout or writing style (although I feel that the BBC does a better job of reporting, rather than sensationalizing); just let me illustrate my point, excerpt from a BBC article on David Blaine:



Nothing special right? Did you read the caption? Read it.

Oh non-sequiturs. There's another photo talking about how Blaine is training near the Cayman Islands for his latest look-at-me-look-at-me stunt. That's relevant to the article. (He's going to try living underwater for a week, and then try to break the world record for breath-holding.) Being friends with Leo is not.

And another thing--"Blaine is to get a two-way audio link" blah blah interview? Interview? He's going to be underwater, how on earth do you talk underwater? And where will he crap? I hope he farts. And I also hope that the fine people of New York City heckle him just as much as the people in London did.

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What I Learned Today

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Oka Udon, an udon shop that we often go to, is closed on Tuesdays. We found this out after driving 15 minutes in the hills to get there. Boo. Apparently they're famous for their niku udon, and I'm inclined to agree.

Ministop strawberry parfaits are disgusting. Frozen strawberries. I knew better, I so knew better, but all the other teachers were getting parfaits. Well, two of four. Yep, that's right, on the way back to work after udon (at Kompira Udon, which is like Hanamaru in its restaurant chain blandness), we stopped at a combini for ice cream. Man, I'll miss this.

There's some song out there that goes, Wookie Wookie in the kitchen, Superboy is on a mission. I'm not kidding. It's very Aqua, but I can't seem to find out who it's really by. And even though I loathe it, it's catchy, and I want it.

There's another song that I heard on FM radio (radio! how retro!) today that I totally know, and it's called Only You. There are at least three songs out there with that title, but this one is a cappella. I was a bit shocked when I heard it on the radio, because I always thought it was some college group. It totally has that sound. Well, I got home and found it, and realized that it's a Yaz/Yazoo cover (depending if you're from the US or the UK). And then I got some Yazoo, and realized that I totally know a lot of these songs, but had no idea who the group was, what the titles were, or that the singer was a woman.

Why does Alison Moyet sound familiar to me? I'll never know. Great voice though.

But yeah. FM radio. Mostly English songs. And thanks to google, I've found it. Fantastic. The current program is called SCHOOL OF LOCK!!! Yeahyeah!



[edit: HOLY SHIT! I finally figured out why Alison Moyet is so familiar! I have an Alison Moyet song. What song? There Are Worse Things I Could Do. ::sigh:: I feel so much better now.]

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The Perils of Drunk Biking

Thursday, March 30, 2006

               

Like a cartoon bump. Really.

In other news, isn't my camera phone like way awesome? I sure think so.

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Girl Scout Cookies.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

I sold them when I was in elementary school, always going for the coveted (and in hindsight, ugly) stuffed animal. I loved the goldfish cracker knockoffs (golden yangles--what a terrible name), I loved the lemony ones, the peanut butter ones, the ones with coconut on them (named after an island? why???), and of course, thin mints. Thin mints went straight into the freezer where we forgot about them. In college, this proved useful when a friend came over and made alcoholic smoothies. Smart boy, that one.

Anyway. I got home today, and I was hungry. But not hungry enough to wash my damn dishes. So I reached for the closest food item. In my apartment, that's not very hard to do.

And so I grabbed a box of girl scout cookies. That my mother sent me. Last year. I've been kicking this box around for the past couple days, and finally decided to open it.

And you know what? They're delicious. I could eat the entire box right now, even though I know I'll get sick from all the preservatives and I'll regret it tomorrow.

What are they? Double something. Double dutch chocolate chip cookies. Don't you just love how American food is so overprocessed that it's still good a year later? Freaky.

Freaky delicious.

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Damn fricking Damn.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

My dad likes to try and call me when it's convenient for me, but he isn't very good at it. Like he called just now, 11pm to inform me that no, they're not coming to visit from April 5 to 19, now they want to come from April 19 to May 3. And I'm sure you're thinking, what's the problem with that, and I say that infringes on both charity ball AND Golden Week. And it's not like I currently have plans for golden week, or even a dress for Charity Ball, but damn my family for infringing on my good time. My LAST good time, might I add. rage rage rage.

But now there's even talk of coming in November, when I can stick around the whole time, and maybe even stay longer than they do. That'd be awesome.

Tonight I had yakiniku with L and L and it was so nice eating with girls for once. It only took one family set to feed three of us. And I introduced them to the fantastic ice creams too. So now I'm all meat-coma-ed and trying to be good and do a load of laundry, and my dad calls me and gets me in a tizzy. Bleah.

I had a totally random weekend though. It's the first time I've been home on a Sunday night in a long time. Since G's out frolicking on the bean island, I intended to go home on Saturday morning. Maybe Saturday afternoon. Well, instead, I lazed about on Saturday, all fuzzy and hungover from the school enkai. Man, that was a good time. I was about ready to go home on Saturday at like 6pm when tattoo G calls and says let's go have a bonfire in Aji. And I say sure, because hell, who wants to go home and clean when you can burn stuff? Not me. So I stayed out another night, and passed out in my smokey bonfire clothes at G's.

I woke up all disoriented because I was alone and I wasn't sure what day it was. I sat around some more, and then went to return the bike I never used (bike to Aji? On a granny bike? No thanks.) and ran into L. I just followed L and L around for the rest of the day, stopping for sandwiches and a hair cut and finally yakiniku.

Now I'm home and still all tizzied and I haven't done laundry and I think I left my kotatsu on all weekend. Bleh.

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Pizza dinner, round two.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

So I just got back from Osaka, and I'm pretty wiped out. Yesterday, day four of the vacation, I went to Kurashiki to look at old buildings, but ended up buying a whole lotta stuff. Good stuff though. So my legs are tired, and on top of that, my stomach is still used to eating real meals and demanded a real dinner tonight. And considering my sink has been full since about a month ago, pizza seemed the way to go.

Preparations went by without a hitch. Seriously, if you've got a microwave with oven capabilities, it's the way to go. 500 yen for half a pizza. Might not feed some people, but it's good enough for me. It even has raw garlic slices! Ohyeah! Pretty sheisty with the sauce, but that just means I need to buy extra sauce. I feel like R's told me about the joy of grocery store pizzas before, but I can't remember. Mmm, it's getting cold. Back to food.

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Uhm, Social Studies?

Thursday, March 16, 2006

A few days ago, a fifth grader, a sharp kid, asked me what shakai was in English. I wrinkled my brow, and tried to decide if I misheard a dirty word or not. Seriously. I get asked what unko is all the time. "Poop," I tell them. And to my great delight, they elongate the "oo" so it sounds absolutely ridiculous. "pOOOp," they recite with glee. "Yes," I say. Great pronounciation, I say. I'm such a swell teacher.

Right, shakai. I was pretty confident about this one, because it often comes up in the junior high school. It's social studies. So I tell him, social studies. The kid is delighted. "Open the window social studies!" he proclaimed, displaying his crotch. What? "Open the window social studies!" I thought I knew all the words, sounds, and gestures related to the groin by now, but this was a new one.

Luckily, a teacher with good English skills was there and explained that it's a phrase they use for the fly of your pants. Mmmm. Great. I can't wait for this one to catch on. I turned to the kid. "Sorry, I made a mistake. It's society. Open the window of society." He ran off and repeated it to the kids in the hallway. "Open the window SOCIETY!"

Afterthought: Yes, I know shakai has multiple society-related definitions, but "social studies" is so engrained that I missed a (practice) Japanese test question on its definition. Whee.

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