Thursday, February 24, 2005

To Boldly Go Where No Corporate Exec Has Gone Before....

I had just returned from a truly amazing adventure. To wit, I needed ciggies, chocolate and a beer (it’s the start of my weekend!). I bundled up and ventured forth, but instead of turning left at the end of my street and walking all the way down the hill to the Family Mart right by the train station (a good ten minute walk!), for the first time, emboldened by I know not what force, I turned right!

I was truly going out on a limb. Who knew what I’d find by going “the other way”? Perhaps I would step off the edge of the world (okay, the edge of Japan). Perhaps by going “the other way,” I would find woman/woman love followed quickly by heartbreak, betrayal and tears. Or maybe I’d walk for miles and miles with no sight of a Family Mart, Lawsons or 7-Eleven (oh yes…they have them here too, except they’re better here because you can buy sake, scotch, oden and little freeze dried sardines. Unfortunately no Big Gulp available…bummer). Or perhaps, I wasn’t really being so adventurous after all, since somewhere in a dusty closet in a little traveled cul de sac of my mind, I remember that Thor once told me that the Family Mart up the hill was quite a bit more conveniently located than the one down the hill.

And he was right. Less than five minutes and I was there. I made my purchases and returned home.

Pretty boring story, I know. Except! I’m sitting on the couch eating the last of the shumai/gyoza pig-out I’d been intermittently engaged in since about 1:00 o’clock this afternoon, and I’m watching CNN. Not CNN stateside but the “international edition,” especially tailored (one supposes) to the misinformation needs of expats worldwide. It’s pretty horrible stuff, all recycled seemingly every three hours. I wonder if CNN back in the States is obsessed with the life force of the Pope and the marriage of Prince Charles to that lady in England – the one he reportedly once told on the phone, “I wish I could be a tampon up inside of you right now,” or something like that (of course, this piece of essential reportage did not emanate from CNN; I don’t know where it came from. I just have it lodged in another dusty, closet in my brain and I have adopted the unshakeable stance that if it is in my brain, it must be TRUE! which is why I’m sharing it with you now. As for the pope, an alcove in my mind has it on record that if you get really close to him, he smells like pee…Of course this story probably originated with a child, since only children actually get to be close to the pope and we all know that children (yes even papal ones!) sometimes lie.

Anyway, in a radical departure from the litany of the Prince and the Pope stories, CNN had a special segment on ""African-inspired" “corporate drumming,” and this is when I realized that I was going to totally throw up. Apparently, “corporate drumming” is gaining popularity in the U.S. as soulless executives struggle desperately to inject some sort of feeling and perhaps a renewed sense of vitality and purpose into their petty, profit driven lives. A voiceover noted the fact that the participants are not just executives, but human beings! With souls!! Sometimes, it would appear, voiceovers are actually lies.

Sit back for a minute and imagine: a typical business conference room (perhaps the conference room at the Hilton or the Sheraton). Now picture that conference room filled with a bunch of white people eagerly clutching “African” tom toms and beating them in an incredible concordance of “no rhythm.” Now picture some white hippie guy (No, not Paul Simon) with his sleeves rolled up on a stage conducting this mad symphony (and if you look really hard, you might see a sheepish dread locked “African” brotha in the background somewhere).

Pretty normal, huh? “We’ve” apparently come along way (baby): all the way from beating drums to celebrate nature, ask for rain, healthy harvest, and what have you to this: foot soldiers of capitalism beating drums to “inspire” themselves to go out and make the almighty dollar.

After I wiped projectile vomit from my lips, my shirt and the television, I felt calm. After all, why not? So much else has been taken from Africa, why not drumming too? It’s not as if it’s sacred or anything. Not like African drumming is anchored in any meaningful cultural traditions or anything like that, is it? I mean really….

Sunday, February 20, 2005

It was a dark and stormy night...and the start of something special

Today, I tried oden and made the acquaintance of a couple Japanese gentlemen at a small restaurant not far from the house. Didn’t want to go far…It was one of those miserable days…cold and rainy, with gusting winds…A day to make me think of England with a feeling somewhat other than a melancholy yearning for a long lost "home". In short, it was a crap kind of day.

With surprisingly no motivation to cook for myself, I ventured forth anyway, finding out quickly that my umbrella, chosen for its small size since I didn’t want to hog the whole 20 inches of sidewalk on my way down to the restaurant, was in fact broken. Not badly broken—only one of the little metal stays/sticks/thing-a-ma-jigs that are meant to keep the nylon pulled taut had pulled free. Just broken enough to be a pain in the ass and for the wind to catch it and turn it inside out every ten feet or so. The though occurred that making Mac n’ Cheese might have been easier, but hell, I was already out, already wet, and so totally committed.

Arrival at restaurant: empty counter, family seated at the lone table in the rear. The cook/chef/owner was welcoming and even spoke a little English. Alas, the menu was written on strips of poster paper taped to the walls. All hiragana, katakana and kanji. What little I could decipher phonetically I was unable to assign any semantic meaning to and so, in halting Japanese I asked: Do you have gyoza? Yakisoba? Udon? No, he replied. Oden to yakitori dake ga arimasu. We have only oden and yakitori. Okay! I know yakitori and I’m willing to try oden. So I did. It was delicious. A broth in which you’ll find an assortment of “things,” most of them round. Mine had chicken balls, fish balls, some kind of yam balls, a whole egg….Yummy! And perfect for the Mancunian weather to which we were being treated.

I was just savouring the last drops of oden when a couple of men entered and sat down beside me. They ordered food and drink and began to chat. Not normally an eavesdropper, in Japan I have found myself straining to overhear conversations of those around me…in restaurants, on the street, on the train. This behaviour is in part driven by a desire to learn, or at least to determine how much meaning I can cull out of what's being said, but is also driven, in no small part by paranoia. My ears twitch in fearful anticipation of hearing the words Amerikajin, gaijin, kokujin spoken in tones that convey unmistakable distaste. And in this particular instance, it wasn’t long before I hear said words being spoken, sans distaste, mais avec curiosite. No point trying to make myself small. Instead, I reached for my beer (I just love how so many restaurants practically serve “forties,” as opposed to the civilized 12 oz bottles you get back “home”), and turned my attention to the yakitori which the chef had just served: “Try and see if you like.” Me like very much! Mō, ippon kudasai. Another one please!

A few minutes passed in companionable silence – yakitori chewing, oden slurping, beer guzzling... And then the gentleman nearest me asked where I was from. I’m Canadian, I said, but I’ve lived in the U.S. for many years and am married to an American. A sō desu ne! Do you live around here? Yes, I do. And so on for a few minutes…all in Japanese.

His companion spoke a little English so we were able to move on to more interesting topics and, well, the night turned out to be quite fun. We guessed each other’s ages (44, 37, 35), traded words, scribbled the alphabet. I confessed to the fact that I had never learned to write cursive script, a skill at which both proved adept. We had a good laugh over the fact that one guy screwed up his listing of hiragana (Japanese phonetic alphabet) (he explained that he was not really Japanese after all.) They marvelled at the fact that despite having lived here for only 3 months, I was able to speak rudimentary Japanese, and still marvelled when they learned that I'd studied it fifteen years ago at university. They marvelled that I'd been to university and that it wasn't called Mos Def U. or College of Da Schiznitz. They wondered why I'd married an American and I confess, that was a toughie...Finally settled on the plain truth: for love.

We also talked about spiders in Japan. Apparently the really, really big ones, i.e. the ones with bodies like buicks and legs like furry lampposts, are considered good luck and aren’t poisonous. (Okay, if y’all say so). In addition to spiders, Japan is apparently teeming with "mushi"--insects. It seems that entomologically speaking, I have lots to look foward to, and may soon find myself having to abandon my zen posture towards all bugs with the exception of roaches, i.e. live and let live, or else spend many hours a day ferrying little lost critters from our home back to the outside where I happen to think they rightfully belong.

One guy had traveled a bit (Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Malaysia…) and so we delved into the differences in how English is spoken in various parts of the world. They just loved the fact that I had an inkan (name stamp) though of course when demonstrating its use, I managed to print my name upside down…must remember to put sticker on inkan saying, “this way up.”

All in all, good times, my friends. Good times. Another customer who hadn’t taken part in our conversation presented me with a present (an orange, wrapped of course!) on his way out and wished me “sweet dreams.” I was really touched, people. No, really! It was great.
One of my interlocutors wishes to practice English (with his wife) and so I’ll probably be meeting with them both in the near future. My fee: teach me Japanese!!!

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

What bloggers see when they gaze into their navels

Am know-nothing blogger. Know nothing about html, uploading, downloading... Acquainted with freeloading (ha ha!) but it seems that with this last there's always a catch--especially on the web (pop up ad anyone?). Anyway, this site lets you confirm what you may have always secretly suspected about your blogging self:

http://www.blogthings.com/snarkyblogger.html

Shiver me timbers

My first! My very first....My precciousssss. Well, my first earthquake anyway. Or rather, the first earthquake I've experienced in Japan which had nothing to do with the ecstasy induced by the touch of my man (or of my own trusty left hand – Man/Hand: you are equally preccioussssss to me).

Kinda weird, feeling the earth shiver. This one made me think of a giant cat or dog twitching not so violently in its sleep before settling back down into deep repose. And then cameth cliche revelation: I am flea! We are all fleas!!! [Note to self: Self? No need to worry about not finishing that novel/memoir/writing project. You are flea. Flea cannot write!]

Not too strong of quake...the Bose(tm) speakers on their delicate metal stalks trembled a little, floor moved every so slightly, curtains did a little shimmy shimmy. Nothing crashed, nothing banged. No screams of terror issued forth from the books on the shelves in my study. All in all pretty tame. Not that I wanted any more. Especially not being prepared for it.

So after the quake, what me do? Me saunter into kitchen to take stock of supply of Cliff Bars(tm) and MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat, because Uncle Sam Really Wants You...to enjoy a black bean burrito, crackers, peanut butter, M&M's(tm) and "grape drink" while you're waiting to blow someone's ass/be blown to smithereens). Me note that gallon jugs of water are not very portable and add case of 12 oz bottles of Aquafina(tm) or Poland Springs (tm) to grocery list. What me doing? Me thinking of putting together the survival knapsack I've always dreamed of having at the ready. Find flashlight! Put together first aid kit! Where are my waterproof pants, sensible shoes and a comfy old wool sweater?!!! Waterproof underwear(?) Passport?!! Squeaky, my favourite stuffed rat? Where's the cutlass?!!!

Then, I stopped and put down the grape drink. After all, what me thinking? No telling when nature, oh inscrutable force that Ye are, will decide to shake things up. Do I really want to carry a survival pack wherever I go? Already lug around a gazillion books and stuff. Like Scottie on Star Trek, heard my inner brogue yelling, "Captain, she's not gonna hold much longer!"

So me saunter back to living room and curl up on futon-type mattress bed thingie with book. Yes, book...My own, my very own, my...preccioussss...I'm back.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

In which the frustrated writer engages in venting

Having just emailed inquiries re: interviews for assistant English teaching positions in the Japanese public schools, I now sit back, take a swig of cranberry juice -- every other suitable “Potent Potable” (thank you Alex Trebek!) having been consumed – and wonder what the fuck? Do I really want to be a monkey in the corner waiting for the “real teacher,” to turn and ask me to take centre stage and to yip away in English for the edification of a bunch of not-so-eager-to learn Japanese youth? Answer: of course not! But what about earning money? If not this, then what? Navy regulations forbid going out and getting a job as a stripper/hostess/escort, so I’ll have to whore myself out in a SOFA (status of forces agreement)—approved manner. Argghh….

Candice to self: Why did I drop out of grad. school? (Because I hated it! Must remember that; must cling to that hate desperately!) But, boy oh boy, had I only stayed! Right now, could be engaged in a fruitless search to find work. As a SOCIOLOGIST. Hmmm…On second thoughts, Argghh!!!! It’s weird to think that thanks to choices made, I now find myself in a position where the only real qualification I possess is my ability to speak “Engrish.”

But! Wait! Candy-san, you’re a seasoned waitress, you say. Why not reenter that oh so rewarding profession on the sly? Worried about the boys in blue? Why, if you play your cards right, girl, they’ll be none the wiser (heh heh heh). Hark! I hear Tokyo’s more seedy and disreputable eating establishments calling… Why not heed the siren call? Well, I’ll tell you why not. Because I hated waitressing! Arghhh……

I do thank waitressing and all my other fuck-ups for helping me to meet some really interesting/awful people and even helping me to make a few wonderful and much-treasured friends along the way, not to mention providing grist for the writer’s mill (which, aside from these posts, lies idle and in need of oil). Besides, I’m getting tips for being a language whore. That’s close enough to being a waitress, thanks verrry much.

Perhaps it’s time to forget about making money: to resign myself to asking hubby for money for tampons and cigarettes and to don some dungarees, wrap my head in a doo rag, and plunge into the labyrinthine and much neglected world of my writer’s box. It’s kind of a black box, the supposedly indestructible kind left behind on “the doomed airliner.” Perhaps the eagle has landed. Or crashed? Time to take a delicate approach to unraveling the mysteries within. Or, time to take a hammer to the stubborn little black mofo, forcing it to cough up unheretofore seen literary gems. Am afraid of this time. Feel pressure building up within (which reminds me of urgent need to get skyrocketing blood pressure under control). Am afraid that cracking the box would end up cracking me wide open. Not sure what will emerge. Torrents and torrents of bile? A world of tears? A gibbering lunatic? All this and MORE!!!??? A world breathlessly awaits…Not.

Now, it’s time to go and prepare for tonight’s teaching session… “Hello [unpronounceable] san. Let’s review the alphabet, shall we?” [Ooh what fun!] “A is for Apple, B is for Bullshit. C is for Cunt, D is for Dick… Oops. Sorry ‘bout that [unpronounceable]-San….What’s that you say?” ‘Unprofessional’? ‘Uncouth’? Why yes! Don’t let the smart little outfit (thank you, Filene’s basement) fool you!”

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Hello Dolly

Today ventured forth into the great unknown. Specifically, went on tour of kokeshi doll factory in Gunma Prefecture (along with brief stop at a glass-making factory).

Had hoped for something educational – perhaps learning about the history of kokeshi dolls, how they are made, etc., but alas! Found experience to be 4-½ hour one-way bus ride to go shopping at souvenir stores. Ah well. Me no can drive (please don’t report me: am convinced that not driving helps to maintain illusion of youth!) And me no wanna pay highway tolls while someone less neurotic than I commandeers the wheel...

So…I sucked it up. And ate it up: large amounts of incredibly starchy food, that is. In future, will make sure to have very low expectations of actually learning anything by taking this kind of tour. Perhaps, will also pack own lunch (portable veggie patch maybe…the kind that grows in soil, not the kind you slap on your arm or your inner thigh, although if such a patch has been invented, I’ll invest my measly savings from teaching/whoring ESL to buy stock).

Did however, take advantage of opportunity to paint my very own kokeshi doll!! Resisted the urge to paint my least favourite politician as I truly see him (horns, fangs, swastika’s, puppet strings, etc.). Instead bought phallic, blank slate kokeshi doll to take home, where I can indulge in elaborating this depiction without having fellow tour-riders/kokeshi doll factory employees react with shock and horror…kind of like writing (or masturbation): an act of ecstatic creation best done alone.

It's fun painting your own kokeshi doll. So many colours! So many brushes! Started out all gung ho and then quickly experienced onset of flash-Parkinsons or perhaps cerebral palsy...At any rate, after about 30 minutes cared less about "staying within" my shakily executed lines and more about just getting the thing done. Lesson learned/lesson reaffirmed: I am not awash in patience as a virtue. Would love to post picture of finished doll, but first have to take sledgehammer to computer and/or digital camera in order to figure out why--despite (methinks) loading up all the appropriate software--fucking computer thing (aka my otherwise faithful laptop) does not want to wrangle pictures from camera.

Anyhow, back to field trip...Luckily, brought book along for ride there and back: Haruki Murakami’s "Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World." Halfway through book and in love with this writer! Thank you Catherynne Valente http://www.livejournal.com/users/yuki_onna for mentioning his work as worth reading! Had planned to boycott books for a while, in the interests of perhaps doing a little writing of my own but…will wait till I’ve read ALL of his work! Okay, not all, but will punctuate my own musings by delving into his. (Somehow, excuses not to write just keep on poppin’).

On the ride home, was introduced to one of the many fantastic “standards” that come with owning a mobile phone in Japan: the ability to take pics and then edit them with goofy graphics and text to your heart's content. Now I know why—when riding the trains here—so many people seem to be just obsessed with their bloody phones. Heard a rumour that AU (popular mobile phone co. in Japan) will soon be available in the States and fear that when/if I return, will encounter similar scenes of Americans deftly clutching train poles and railings while busily photographing crotches of happily-seated passengers to embellish and email to friends. Oh come ye happy days…

Signing off now: time to tend to my kerosene heater, else fingers will freeze--after all, this is Japan and central heating is something literally unheard of. Figure that if I learn how to feed heater on regular basis, will soon qualify to own a pet; after that...who knows? Maybe even children!!!

Thursday, February 03, 2005


Rejected!!! Posted by Hello

Today, I found out that a recent "trick" did not go well. Am crushed!!! Apparently, candidate did not want future liaisons because she "wanted someone who knew more about science." (During my audition, we discussed the fact that I had a background in social science, as opposed to star-gazing (uhh...astronomy) which is the major she plans to pursue at a U.S. college.) However, my booker-(he's African American and a long-time resident of Japan)- informed me that he personally thought it might have been a colour thing. Who knew??!!!....Okay, this I did know!

Some pretty heinous stereotypes of African-Americans exist in Japan and it seems that sometimes, even if one does not live up (or is that down?) to those stereotypes, you will still occasionally face a polite "no thank you," generally not to your face, but communicated to you through the agency. My booker even mentioned the fact that he has heard of many, ah, let's just say unfortunate occurences where some (redneck) white Americans actually go out of their way to promulgate (or at least perpetuate) such stereotypes! Yikes!

I've also just become aware that apparently, if you're white, you can show up for a demo in a t-shirt and torn jeans, and speak like a grade-school drop-out, but if you're black, you'd better be dressed to the nines and come across like a distinguished, yet intelligible and approachable grammarian with a couple of Ph.D.'s. Hmmm....reminds of me of the advice drummed into me constantly as a kid..."Candice, you have to be three times as good as "the white man" to succeed."

Or maybe I should just pretend to know more about astrology...I mean astronomy?!!!




Wednesday, February 02, 2005

The Dullest Blog in the World

Well, it seems that someone else has beat me to it: http://www.wibsite.com/wiblog/dull/! Some of you, if I know you at all, will find this site really funny. I laughed till I cried (drinking wine with Thor at the time, but the alcohol had nothing to do with the hilarity that ensued...).

Promulgating the Imperialism of the English Language

Well, I'm beginning to "work." Specifically, teaching English to Japanese who a) want to attend a U.S. university; b) want to work for an American/English co. based in Japan; b) just want to learn English because...well...it's just cool to speak the most imperial language on the f**ng planet!

I'm working "for" a small, Tokyo-based language school which is much better than going to one of many big language schools that exist here. Teaching English has become a major capitalistic endeavour for many in Japan; unfortunately, a lot of the big schools are really, really corporate and don't give a crap about the teachers (or I think, about the students). It's all about the money...

So, the place I'm affiliated with sets up meetings for me with likely candidates...I've come to think of them as victims. If all goes well, we arrange a regular day and time to meet. So far so good -- have had 5 out of 5 successful demonstration lessons, for a grand total of 8 students. Hoping to build up to a maximum 15 sessions a week. Meetings take place in coffee shops (Starbucks!!!) and last for an hour, but because of travel time, having 15 meetings per week entails an additional 20-30 hours a week of travel time.

Am also hoping to get a part-time gig teaching English in a Japanese elementary or high school (interviews apparently take place in February and March, with school term commencing in April). If that happens, I'll soon be a busy, and hopefully very happy little camper...

My thoughts so far on teaching are somewhat ambivalent. On the one hand, I could play it as if I'm a hired English-speaking friend. I've been told that it might even be more important that I am English-speaking and "weird" than able to teach anything about grammar, syntax, diction, vocabulary etc. On the other hand, since I am desperately in need of a career, I could play it as if I'm really all about being professional...perhaps get certified as an ESL instructor; work "in-house" for a good, non-exploitative language school, etc.

So far, I've been approaching the whole thing pretty seriously, studying ESL methodology, trying to learn arcane grammatical terms. What I've learned so far is that if you really think about what you're doing when you speak English (for e.g., "Hmmm...I'm about to use a phrasal modal" or "Umm, the next thing I say is going to be in the past perfect progressive") you quickly lose the ability to say anything at all!

I know if and when I meet students without going through the agency/escort service, I'll probably be able to relax and just sit around bullshitting about Hollywood movie stars. For these "free lance students," essentially I will simply be some sort of "English language prostitute," hiring myself out for an hour or two simply so that they can hear me speak and maybe learn a little. But for now, the students I have actually seem committed (plus there's always the threat that they'll call up management and say, "That Candy-san, she sucks!") . So I'm approaching it professionally, diligently, probably obsessively! I actually do plan on becoming certified (in a couple of months, after earning the money to pay for the course...).

Have made one whorish maneuver -- giving it away (i.e. my command of English) for free to one woman I met in a bookstore. Actually, we're doing a language exchange...I help her with English, she helps me with Japanese. I think it'll be fun, and also a good way to make a friend. This Friday, we're meeting for lunch (I really want to try a Japanese style do-it-yourself pancake called okonomiyaki).

In other news, Thor is back in town (he was away for a week) and leaves Feb. 9 for 6 weeks. By then, I may be so busy that his absence will barely be noticed (fat chance, when I have to slink to bed alone at near-freezing temperatures!). Will attend a fertility festival (I think it's in late March, eary April) and the pics from that should be quite amusing. Other than that, perhaps a hotspring (onsen) and a visit to my friend Robert, who lives many hours away in Shikoku...

Last, but not least, simply because it's easier (and because it seems as if everyone in Japan has a nickname), I've decided to "let" people here call me Candy (San) (most think it's pretty funny: in Japanese the word for candy (as in the sweet) is ame (pronounced amay) so maybe my new name is Ame-San. Word to the wise: if you have become accustomed to calling me Candy, continue to do so. If not, stick with Candice please! (If, however, you've become accustomed to not listening to anything I say, go ahead, call me CANDY. I no longer really care!)