Thursday, August 31, 2006
Majionair
While Japanese television is largely boring in terms of dramas and comedies, they do have their amusing game shows. This particular one is a parody of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," but it gets rather personal. The second contestant in parts three and four looks ready to chew up the scenery.
It's in six parts, here's the url: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPqSyj7CH9I
The other parts are in the "Explore More Videos" section.
Incident
(This is a post I wrote sometime ago. Enjoy or don't enjoy.)
I have Friday afternoons to myself. So far its either been a time to clean my place or catch a ferry to the mainland for drinking and hanging out. But this one Friday, the third after arrival, I went out walking.
I walked all over the island: the lily-field (sans lilies, so just "field") and the rocky cliffs there, the western beaches and tide pools, which I walked through against my better judgement; a false step meant complete lasceration of my feet and legs. At the southern beaches I swam in the ocean for the first time and enjoyed a grape slushee.
On my way home, I passed the home of a friend on the island, and she invited me in for a drink. I accepted, not wanting to insult or commit some little social atrocity. Her daughter was watching TV, and soon Aladdin was playing in the background.
Disney characters are everywhere; you'd think Disney himself had a hand in writing their constitution.
I asked for a water, but soon the water was gone and there was an Orion beer in front of me.
"Do you like to drink?" She said."Sure." I didn't tell her I don't drink a lot. That "don't want to insult" mentality again.
"Our impression of Americans. Drink all the time. All day."
"Well, some of them. But they're the minority. On the job," I crossed my arms, the "no" gesture.
I finished my beer and she was on her second when she brought out the wine. I drank slowly; I had no wish to be drunk in front of her or her daughter, who I have occasionally in class. We just chatted, she showed me the ashes of her husband's grandfathers who died in WWII and I tried my damnedest to be a good guest and ask questions.
Aladdin was putting the moves on Jasmine when her husband came in.We introduced ourselves and he sat down on the tatami with a beer.
(misete age yokagayaku sekai)
We were chatting amiably enough, enjoying ourselves. Sushi appeared, we ate. The day was cooling down, and cold drinks and the rotating fan helped. I had another glass of wine while the husband and wife downed another beer or two. Like those at my welcome party a week ago, these people liked to drink. And my glass was never empty.
"Dozo," any quick Japanese will say if they see your drink vanishing. And you'll do a little bow as your glass fills and say, of course, "Domo." That said, I'm careful now to drink as slow as I possibly can lest I drink too much.
I fear my loss of self-control.
(suteki naatarashii sekai)
We had cigarettes about the time a guest arrived and sat down, another friend of the wife, a young Japanese man only a year older than me with that particular Japanese cockiness that doesn't seem threatening, just outgoing, a sun-ray. He beamed.
I'm a social smoker, meaning if someone will offer, I'm there. Sometimes it will be months between cigarettes, sometimes a few weeks. In the last year, I marked time between one and another with a death.
The wife would translate for me, but often we would just be talking ourselves as the husband and the guest conversed. I began to feel awkward as I realized either the wife couldn't hold her drink or she didn't know what was appropriate to say in English conversation.
"I'm so bored here. I've lived on the island for 14 years. So boring."
"No, I would never divorce him. I love him, but if we did, I would take my daughter and go. She's mine."
"She's our only one. My husband, he has no seed for more."
I nodded. If I have one talent it's one that allows me to go with the flow with minimal interruption. I nod, smile, offer sympathies and empathize. Minnesota nice, you might say. And it served me well. At least until the shouting started.
The daughter had popped in Finding Nemo, and the husband started to argue with his wife about her constantly watching the film. Over and over again she would watch it, and it didn't seem to be a good thing to do when guests were present.
He may or may not have liked me casting glances at the television. I'm a sucker for Disney movies, especially Pixar, and I couldn't help but look.At first it was just that murmuring arguing. Not loud, but insistent, and the wife would often stop and translate. I would catch words, eddies in the waves, indistinct and confusing. The other guest took this in stride, so I tried to follow his example.
I snapped up a piece of sushi and drank a little wine, but it was fast losing any appeal. The guest and I exchanged a look as our hosts continued. The daughter's eyes were darting between the onscreen fish and her bickering parents.
Then they were louder, almost yelling. The daughter got up and sat next to her mother, clutching her arm. The husband remained cross-legged on the floor, wine glass in hand the pet parakeet on his shoulder, murmuring. It was the wife who was shouting.And then it faded, fast and unexpected. We sat picking at our food, sipping wine, and exchanging words. The daughter still clutched her mother's arm.
Another guest arrived and the arguing renewed. He paused in the doorway but came in after. He was smiling before he entered, but as he came around and sat on the sofa I saw it was gone.
Then the wife was on her feet, moving toward her floor-bound husband. She hit him, once, twice, three, maybe four times. The daughter was up, screaming "Okaasan! Okaasan!" The first guest moved; this had happened before and he went to intervene.
They separated. The husband was on his feet, the wife pacing around him. The daughter was near the television, her hands clutched under her chin. There was a flow of Japanese and they were grappling with eachother again ("OKAASAN!"). The guest moved, separated them.
The wife kept moving toward the cabinet where the urns of ashes were kept, and before any of us could move to stop her, there was ash in the air and broken urn on the tatami. The ash went soaring into the fan and shot through the air. There was a piece (bone, oh my god it's bone) in my eye.
Five minutes later, guest #2 and I were out the door, the husband and wife offering apologies and us accepting.The first guest stayed behind, picking up urn shards.
I have Friday afternoons to myself. So far its either been a time to clean my place or catch a ferry to the mainland for drinking and hanging out. But this one Friday, the third after arrival, I went out walking.
I walked all over the island: the lily-field (sans lilies, so just "field") and the rocky cliffs there, the western beaches and tide pools, which I walked through against my better judgement; a false step meant complete lasceration of my feet and legs. At the southern beaches I swam in the ocean for the first time and enjoyed a grape slushee.
On my way home, I passed the home of a friend on the island, and she invited me in for a drink. I accepted, not wanting to insult or commit some little social atrocity. Her daughter was watching TV, and soon Aladdin was playing in the background.
Disney characters are everywhere; you'd think Disney himself had a hand in writing their constitution.
I asked for a water, but soon the water was gone and there was an Orion beer in front of me.
"Do you like to drink?" She said."Sure." I didn't tell her I don't drink a lot. That "don't want to insult" mentality again.
"Our impression of Americans. Drink all the time. All day."
"Well, some of them. But they're the minority. On the job," I crossed my arms, the "no" gesture.
I finished my beer and she was on her second when she brought out the wine. I drank slowly; I had no wish to be drunk in front of her or her daughter, who I have occasionally in class. We just chatted, she showed me the ashes of her husband's grandfathers who died in WWII and I tried my damnedest to be a good guest and ask questions.
Aladdin was putting the moves on Jasmine when her husband came in.We introduced ourselves and he sat down on the tatami with a beer.
(misete age yokagayaku sekai)
We were chatting amiably enough, enjoying ourselves. Sushi appeared, we ate. The day was cooling down, and cold drinks and the rotating fan helped. I had another glass of wine while the husband and wife downed another beer or two. Like those at my welcome party a week ago, these people liked to drink. And my glass was never empty.
"Dozo," any quick Japanese will say if they see your drink vanishing. And you'll do a little bow as your glass fills and say, of course, "Domo." That said, I'm careful now to drink as slow as I possibly can lest I drink too much.
I fear my loss of self-control.
(suteki naatarashii sekai)
We had cigarettes about the time a guest arrived and sat down, another friend of the wife, a young Japanese man only a year older than me with that particular Japanese cockiness that doesn't seem threatening, just outgoing, a sun-ray. He beamed.
I'm a social smoker, meaning if someone will offer, I'm there. Sometimes it will be months between cigarettes, sometimes a few weeks. In the last year, I marked time between one and another with a death.
The wife would translate for me, but often we would just be talking ourselves as the husband and the guest conversed. I began to feel awkward as I realized either the wife couldn't hold her drink or she didn't know what was appropriate to say in English conversation.
"I'm so bored here. I've lived on the island for 14 years. So boring."
"No, I would never divorce him. I love him, but if we did, I would take my daughter and go. She's mine."
"She's our only one. My husband, he has no seed for more."
I nodded. If I have one talent it's one that allows me to go with the flow with minimal interruption. I nod, smile, offer sympathies and empathize. Minnesota nice, you might say. And it served me well. At least until the shouting started.
The daughter had popped in Finding Nemo, and the husband started to argue with his wife about her constantly watching the film. Over and over again she would watch it, and it didn't seem to be a good thing to do when guests were present.
He may or may not have liked me casting glances at the television. I'm a sucker for Disney movies, especially Pixar, and I couldn't help but look.At first it was just that murmuring arguing. Not loud, but insistent, and the wife would often stop and translate. I would catch words, eddies in the waves, indistinct and confusing. The other guest took this in stride, so I tried to follow his example.
I snapped up a piece of sushi and drank a little wine, but it was fast losing any appeal. The guest and I exchanged a look as our hosts continued. The daughter's eyes were darting between the onscreen fish and her bickering parents.
Then they were louder, almost yelling. The daughter got up and sat next to her mother, clutching her arm. The husband remained cross-legged on the floor, wine glass in hand the pet parakeet on his shoulder, murmuring. It was the wife who was shouting.And then it faded, fast and unexpected. We sat picking at our food, sipping wine, and exchanging words. The daughter still clutched her mother's arm.
Another guest arrived and the arguing renewed. He paused in the doorway but came in after. He was smiling before he entered, but as he came around and sat on the sofa I saw it was gone.
Then the wife was on her feet, moving toward her floor-bound husband. She hit him, once, twice, three, maybe four times. The daughter was up, screaming "Okaasan! Okaasan!" The first guest moved; this had happened before and he went to intervene.
They separated. The husband was on his feet, the wife pacing around him. The daughter was near the television, her hands clutched under her chin. There was a flow of Japanese and they were grappling with eachother again ("OKAASAN!"). The guest moved, separated them.
The wife kept moving toward the cabinet where the urns of ashes were kept, and before any of us could move to stop her, there was ash in the air and broken urn on the tatami. The ash went soaring into the fan and shot through the air. There was a piece (bone, oh my god it's bone) in my eye.
Five minutes later, guest #2 and I were out the door, the husband and wife offering apologies and us accepting.The first guest stayed behind, picking up urn shards.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Downtime
Late July and the August month constitutes as what one may call "downtime" for JETs. Old faces leave, new ones show up, the kids are on break and the JET (in my case, anyway) is largely left to their own devices. Many return home to visit family, other JETs take trips. My main outlet has been the computer, indulging in Monk episodes and rereading Sandman comics.
For students technically on break, my junior high kids are constantly at the junior high anyway, training for September sports festivals and events. Tennis, volleyball, basketball, baseball, track. They're doing it all. So I decided, instead of sitting at the office and playing on the computer, reading news and blogs of friends (albeit quietly, never commenting), that I would connect with the students more. This meant, of course, exercising with them.
I'm introverted and self-concious, so naturally it was difficult to begin. When I showed up for the first activity of the day in the last week of July, it was with the baseball team, and naturally they seemed a bit incredulous that I wanted to exercise with them. These kids are lean and wiry, and when the big gaijin shows up, wanting to run with them, disbelief isn't unwarranted.
There's a triptych of students that give me the most trouble, inside and outside of class: Toshiki, Kowa and Keisuke. They also happen to be on the baseball team and met my joining with a combination of amusement and sneers. Toshiki in particular had a stunned lip curl that gave the strong impression that he wished I wasn't there.
But I ran with them and miraculously kept up with them for the two laps they went around the school courtyard. I did sit-ups and push-ups and belly undulations--pushing with your stomach muscles against the ground--with them. Most of them looked on at me with smiles when I did this. Who can blame them? A fat man doing the exercises that rightfully belong to the thin and better coordinated is comedy gold anyway you slice it.
And then we did sprints.
"ジョシュアー先生 早いね。" (Joshua-sensei is quick, isn't he?) One said, as he watched me keep up with the team of four I was sprinting with. My heart was beating fast, as it would for weeks after in the Okinawan sun. My legs hurt and I was tired. But someone said I was quick, and I knew instantly I would be back the next day.
I showed up at practice 3-4 times a week, usually at 8 a.m. to run with the track team. We'd start with an opening run, then do other exercises, then sprints, and sometimes more running, training for the 100-meter dash or relay. I exhausted myself; my stamina was nothing great. Short bursts of energy followed by a long recovery and much water drinking.
I liken it to boot camp. When I ran cross-country in high school, our practices were never this intense. My students did everything together, the running, the sprinting, the exercises. They did it as a team, and there was a definite sense of comraderie. I imagine it would have exhausted students I knew back in high school. But maybe not. Maybe I wasn't as involved with it as I could have been, back then. I didn't want to learn how to train my body. This, in a sense, was what was happening at present: my students were being taught to train themselves.
The weeks went on and my body began to change. I could feel myself recovering faster after runs. My leg muscles were hardening. I was keeping up. And all around me, there often came shouts of "Joshua! Fighto!"
Morning track practice ended last week. They switched to a 5-6:30 p.m. time, which is difficult for me, since I need that time to run errands. So last week, I started my own exercise regime. 7:00-8:30 p.m. is the time I set aside. I went three times, and to my amazement, I actually knew how to work out and push my body.
Current progress then: 3 kilograms lost in one month (which I'm told is healthy), and a ton of muscle tone gained.
And I have the students of Ie-Jima to thank.
For students technically on break, my junior high kids are constantly at the junior high anyway, training for September sports festivals and events. Tennis, volleyball, basketball, baseball, track. They're doing it all. So I decided, instead of sitting at the office and playing on the computer, reading news and blogs of friends (albeit quietly, never commenting), that I would connect with the students more. This meant, of course, exercising with them.
I'm introverted and self-concious, so naturally it was difficult to begin. When I showed up for the first activity of the day in the last week of July, it was with the baseball team, and naturally they seemed a bit incredulous that I wanted to exercise with them. These kids are lean and wiry, and when the big gaijin shows up, wanting to run with them, disbelief isn't unwarranted.
There's a triptych of students that give me the most trouble, inside and outside of class: Toshiki, Kowa and Keisuke. They also happen to be on the baseball team and met my joining with a combination of amusement and sneers. Toshiki in particular had a stunned lip curl that gave the strong impression that he wished I wasn't there.
But I ran with them and miraculously kept up with them for the two laps they went around the school courtyard. I did sit-ups and push-ups and belly undulations--pushing with your stomach muscles against the ground--with them. Most of them looked on at me with smiles when I did this. Who can blame them? A fat man doing the exercises that rightfully belong to the thin and better coordinated is comedy gold anyway you slice it.
And then we did sprints.
"ジョシュアー先生 早いね。" (Joshua-sensei is quick, isn't he?) One said, as he watched me keep up with the team of four I was sprinting with. My heart was beating fast, as it would for weeks after in the Okinawan sun. My legs hurt and I was tired. But someone said I was quick, and I knew instantly I would be back the next day.
I showed up at practice 3-4 times a week, usually at 8 a.m. to run with the track team. We'd start with an opening run, then do other exercises, then sprints, and sometimes more running, training for the 100-meter dash or relay. I exhausted myself; my stamina was nothing great. Short bursts of energy followed by a long recovery and much water drinking.
I liken it to boot camp. When I ran cross-country in high school, our practices were never this intense. My students did everything together, the running, the sprinting, the exercises. They did it as a team, and there was a definite sense of comraderie. I imagine it would have exhausted students I knew back in high school. But maybe not. Maybe I wasn't as involved with it as I could have been, back then. I didn't want to learn how to train my body. This, in a sense, was what was happening at present: my students were being taught to train themselves.
The weeks went on and my body began to change. I could feel myself recovering faster after runs. My leg muscles were hardening. I was keeping up. And all around me, there often came shouts of "Joshua! Fighto!"
Morning track practice ended last week. They switched to a 5-6:30 p.m. time, which is difficult for me, since I need that time to run errands. So last week, I started my own exercise regime. 7:00-8:30 p.m. is the time I set aside. I went three times, and to my amazement, I actually knew how to work out and push my body.
Current progress then: 3 kilograms lost in one month (which I'm told is healthy), and a ton of muscle tone gained.
And I have the students of Ie-Jima to thank.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The 200th Episode
I am not a Stargate: SG-1 fan and I never plan to be since it was favored over Farscape by the Sci-Fi channel. I love the latter, though at present I'm more savvy and recognize its flaws. I don't feel comfortable admitting them, however, so they'll remain buried in garden along with the neighbor kid's dead pet cicadas. It was original and enthralling, and I hope I see it that way again when I'm older and my eye is keener. I'm hoping, perhaps foolishly, that it ages well.
SG-1's 200th episode was akin to watching Farscape. Almost every episode of Farscape has a strand of absurdity that it willingly embraces. That strand was there. SG-1 poked fun at itself and all of sci-fi television. It was one of the best hours of programming I've watched since Farscape went off the air.
You might want to take that with the proverbial grain of salt, considering my slim choice of viewing material. It was still a damn fun hour of television.
SG-1's 200th episode was akin to watching Farscape. Almost every episode of Farscape has a strand of absurdity that it willingly embraces. That strand was there. SG-1 poked fun at itself and all of sci-fi television. It was one of the best hours of programming I've watched since Farscape went off the air.
You might want to take that with the proverbial grain of salt, considering my slim choice of viewing material. It was still a damn fun hour of television.
Up and Under Construction
I'm creating this page for my family and friends, primarily to keep them better abreast of what's going on during my stay in Okinawa, Japan. I'm quite horrid with e-mail and thought this would be an all around easier way to keep everyone informed.
The site is currently "under construction." This means that I am fiddling and tinkering and not really doing any hardcore html construction. I am currently contemplating purchasing a domain name, crafting a more personal webspace, ect., but until I have the proper confidence, don't expect anything drastic.
I'm working on getting flickr set up and some other tidbits. Until then, enjoy a lot of nothing!
The site is currently "under construction." This means that I am fiddling and tinkering and not really doing any hardcore html construction. I am currently contemplating purchasing a domain name, crafting a more personal webspace, ect., but until I have the proper confidence, don't expect anything drastic.
I'm working on getting flickr set up and some other tidbits. Until then, enjoy a lot of nothing!
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