Quirks

So one thing I noticed after a couple of weeks of being in Japan is that the Japanese tend to have an unusual fascination with blood type.  It started with my cell phone profile where under "Birth Date" there was a "Blood Type."  Then I began to see little cell phone charms with blood types on them.

At first, I was extremely impressed.  I thought, "Hey, the Japanese are pretty diligent about their blood type. If you ever get into an accident, your blood type could be found anywhere on your person -- cell phone, key chains, etc."  However after a quick google search, I was slightly disappointed to find that blood types are just another horoscope in that there are people who believe blood type can determine personalities and compatibility.

For more information into this interesting cultural quirk, the BBC just wrote a pretty good article on it.

Silly Mnemonics

So on the way over to Akihabara today, Matt decided to teach me the days of the week in Japanese.  He first tried with a song... which I then managed to demonstrate how impossible I am to work with when it comes to pure verbal instruction.  We went over the song at least six or seven times, but I could neither memorize the words to the song nor show any comprehension as to what the meaning behind those words were.  But later on the train, he suggested that I create a mnemonic.  His advice was to just create any image that I would then associate to the word, but for me in my mind's infinite complexity, I needed to find a way to not only connect the sound of the Japanese word but also the kanji.  So here's the end result (sound associations are in blue and kanji is in red):

Getsuyoubi (月曜日) - Gettysburg fought on a Monday during a full moon
Kayoubi (火曜日) - King Kai, a fiery guy, works out on Tuesday
Suiyoubi (水曜日) - Sue swims on a watery Wednesday
Mokuyoubi (木曜日) - I plant plants in Mokuleia on Thursday
Kinyoubi (金曜日) - My kin gets paid on Friday
Doyoubi (土曜日) - The dirty doe eats dirt on Saturday
Nichiyoubi (日曜日) - Nietzsche hates sunny Sundays

Desk Study 1

Desk Study 2

Desk Study 3

The Scare

Okay, so here's the story which I think is my favorite story to tell about my stay here in Japan.  Be warned; this story is best told than read, so continue reading at your own discretion 

It started off with me texting back and forth with Matt as I was returning from Kawaguchi (3pm).  Our conversation basically ended with him saying he'll have curry ready when I got back home just as soon as he did a quick run to the store for some bread.  With that said, I thought nothing more of it and returned home (6pm).

Oddly enough though, when I got back to our apartment (and this was maybe three hours after I had been texting him) the door was locked.  I didn't think much of it, perhaps he had put off going to the grocery store until later in the afternoon, and he had just popped out.  So I just went down to our apartment common area to wait for his return, so I could get into our room.  As I was waiting in the common area, Sebastian came in and as soon as he saw me, said in his French-Canadian accent, "Did you know the police had gone to your apartment today?"

Apparently, another one of our neighbors had heard the police knocking around and asking for the people who lived in room 2-something or another.  All Sebastian gathered was that they were looking for a tenant who had just recently moved into the apartment, which left it to either me and Matt or the Koreans.  I was hoping it was the Koreans.

This seriously worried me.  For the next half-hour, worse case scenarios began to play through my head.  Maybe we had managed to do something illegal in the country, and the government would deport us?  The guys in the lounge didn't really help to allay my fears.  The consensus amongst them was that Matt was probably taken in to the police station.  What didn't help was that Matt hadn't been answering my calls or texts to him.  Charlie guessed that Matt may have gotten into trouble during one of his trips to the maid cafe.  Sebastian's theory was that he had gotten into a fight with someone.  I was worried about telling our manager about it since police involvement could affect our contract.  By this time, it was around 8pm, and Sebastian offered me fixings to make a sandwich.

With all this waiting around, Sebastian and Charlie decided to try and let me into my room by picking the lock.  They went at this for a good half hour or so until Carl, the manager, came up and told them to "Let a professional hand it."  Carl then proceeded to take the door off its hinges.  By no means was this an easy feat.  He worked on it for a good forty-five minutes with Eiji, our next door neighbor, nervously looking on.  Carl swore everyone to secrecy about taking the hinges off our door and somewhat causing it noticeable cosmetic damage.

At this point we told Carl about the police coming over and that missing Matt was probably in police custody for reasons unknown.  Upon hearing this, Carl simply shrugged it off saying he had had run-ins with the police before and it could be over something as petty as saying something while drunk, but gave his own crazy theory that Matt was probably in to little boys.  Around this time, Matt finally texted me back with a message of "I'm at the police... I'll be back soon I think.  Already been 4 hours about."  Upon receiving this, I immediately told the guys in the lounge, and once again theories began to fly.

Finally, an hour later (9:30pm), I get a call from Matt saying he's gonna be dropped off at the station and would be walking home from there.  However all evening, it was pouring rain, so I asked Carl to if he could give me a ride to the station in his car, and he happily obliged.  Just before we left the apartment, Eiji came out and asked me if either me or Matt had anything for dinner yet, which for Matt, was nothing.  So Eiji offered to make us curry while I went out to get Matt with Carl.

In the end, the whole police business was over nothing.  Matt, being the cheap man that he is, had taken one of the bikes that had been left at the apartment building and asked the police where he could find free parking for the bike.  When asked to provide registration for the bike, Matt couldn't provide any since it was borrowed, and when it police looked it up, the bike had been reported stolen two years ago.  All this caused an investigation, with fingerprints and mugshot, that lasted for a good five hours.

For me, though, that night showed me how awesome my neighbors were: providing me with something to eat when I was hungry; attempting to break into my room; taking off the door to let me in; preparing dinner for me and my roommate; and giving us a ride when we needed it.  This was above and beyond the call for me, and I am so grateful to have them around.

My Home Away From Home

Sorry for not delivering up on my post about where I reside here in Japan.  Hopefully this will make up for the lack of updating on my part.  So big picture; this is where I live:

Here's a closer view to put it relation to well-known places like Shibuya and Shinjuku.

The thing that confuses me is that when I tell people where I live, they get very sympathetic and usually respond with things like "Oh, yeah, there's nothing really there."  I got this reaction from someone who lives in Saitama right before I left Hawaii.   I was left dreading that I would be going to another McMinnville where the closest thing in the way of a night life were three bars; where everything closes at 8pm; and where the only 24-hour establishment was a 7 Eleven.  However, I think the Japanese have something different in mind when it comes to "boring" or "uneventful" because there are tons of things within walking distance of me.  Perhaps most Japanese natives want a Shibuya in terms of a "fun" city.

An even closer view of where I live (red marks where I frequent the most).

But I was glad to see that Kurihara is nothing like McMinnville.  I'm just a 15-minute walk from the Hibarigaoka Train Station, and along the way, there are a ton of small shops and restaurants.  Let's start from the station.  Across from the station (or south if you go off the picture above), there's a Seiyu (the Japanese equivalent of Walmart) as well as a small department store.  There, I can meet most of my apparel needs as well as any household goods.  There's also a bunch of food chains like a McDonald's, Mister Doughnut, and Baskin Robin's.

If you follow the red path heading north, every little building along that path is a shop up until the first corner.  There are little boutiques for clothes, a drug store, grocery store (Olympic), meat shop, fish shop... just about anything you can think of there's a shop for it along that one stretch.  The worse is this really tasty-smelling kebab shop that usually covers the street in the delicious aromatic scents of teriyaki chicken just off the grill.  It tempts me to buy some every time I'm coming back home (usually hungry).  But if you continue past my apartment there are bunch of other stores like a 24-hour Book Off , a DVD rental place, and more grocery stores.

As for the apartment where I live, it's a guesthouse, so there are people from all parts of the world (kind of). The manager's name is Carl, a native of Sweden, who lives with his daughter who he is borrowing from his ex-wife so that she can brush up on her Japanese.  Then there's Sebatian who's from Canada and lives with his Japanese wife; Charlie, a Chicago-lite, who works part-time as an English teacher; and Eiji, a Japanese native with an impressive English vocabulary.  Apparently we also have French, Scottish, and British neighbors, but I've yet to meet them.  There's a bunch of other people living here, I'm pretty sure of it, but I just haven't seen them around yet.  The neighbors I have interacted with, mostly Carl, Sebastian, Charlie, and Eiji, are probably the best neighbors I could have hoped for.  There's a good story that pretty much sums up their awesomeness but that's for another post.

My room is definitely a lot smaller than the ad let on, but it's just the right size for two to live in.

 Here's our room in a nutshell.  The bed in the back is where my roommate sleeps.  

Where do I sleep?  That's coming up later....

Another angle of the room.  The room came with a makeshift table that I sometimes use as a desk,

 but usually  we just put crap on it. 

In case you were wondering where my bed was, it's in the closet!  

I was just the right length to fit inside (lucky me).

So yes, this is home sweet home.  As I mentioned earlier, I'll talk more about my neighbors and then perhaps I'll get around to talking about my actual adventures!  Thanks for being good sports about my delayed posts.

Beginnings

So due to popular demand, I've decided to set up this portion of my blog for my travels in Japan.  Which I suppose will kind of be like I'm writing a mass email. Note to self: Look into other formats in the future.

Anyways, I had an awesome flight from Honolulu to Seoul sitting next to the nicest Korean kid who would try to translate the meals and drink service to me.  The two hour layover in Seoul was much more exciting for me than I had expected -- in an art-geek kind of way.  Just the architecture and lighting in the airport was great enough to get me to pull out my old camera and take a few shots.

Upon arriving in Japan, everything was a breeze - going through customs, meeting up with Matt (my friend with whom I'm rooming with), getting a phone.  We took the train and met up with his friends at Ikebukuro for some ramen.

It was definitely not the kind of eating experience you'd ever find in the States.  At that particular restaurant, you have the most limited human contact as possible.  We ordered and paid for the size and type of meal up front through a vending machine.  The server, from behind a curtain that surrounded the counter, would then give you a little form to fill out specifying how you wanted your ramen broth.  Then you eat your meal in a cubicle - never having to see the face of the people eating next to you or those who serve you food (water was given through your own personal dispenser inside the cubicle). So in sum, a very interesting first meal.

We made our way to our apartment near Hibarigaoka Station.  By this time it was around midnight, and we then proceeded to get ourselves horribly lost for an hour or so.  Despite the time, though, I was surprised to see there were still a handful of people heading home either on foot or by bike, and we did make it to our final destination.

I can already tell it's going to be difficult to be consistent in blogging, but next post I'll talk more about the neighborhood I'm living in (with maps & pictures!), my neighbors, and the job hunt.

The Sad Night Life

Edward Hopper. Nighthawks

Light study part 2 in my living room.

Prose or Poem?

SHOUTS & MURMURS
WHO AM I?
by Demetri Martin
FEBRUARY 28, 2011

Who am I? That is a simple question, yet it is one without a simple answer. I am many things—and I am one thing. But I am not a thing that is just lying around somewhere, like a pen, or a toaster, or a housewife. That is for sure. I am much more than that. I am a living, breathing thing, a thing that can draw with a pen and toast with a toaster and chat with a housewife, who is sitting on a couch eating toast. And still, I am much more.

I am a man.

And I am a former baby and a future skeleton, and I am a distant future pile of dust. I am also a Gemini, who is on the cusp.

I am “brother” and I am “son” and I am “father” (but just according to one person, who does not have any proof but still won’t seem to let it go). Either way, I am moving very soon and not letting her know about it. I am asking you to keep that between us.

I am trustworthy and loyal, but at the same time I am no Boy Scout. No, I am certainly not. I am quite the opposite, in fact. And by opposite I do not mean Girl Scout. No. I mean Man Scout. And by that I do not mean Scout Leader. In fact, I am not affiliated with the Scouts at all. Let’s just forget about the Scouts and Scouting altogether, O.K.?

I am concepts and thoughts and feelings and outfits. And I am each of these all at once, unless I am in the shower. Then I am not outfits, because that would be uncomfortable.

To some I am known as Chief. And these are usually people who work in Radio Shack or try to sell me shoes. To others I am known as Buddy. These are people who dwell in bars and wonder if I’ve got a problem or what it is that I am “looking at.” And to still others, who are in that same bar, standing just off to the side, I am “Get Him!”

I am he and I am him. I am this and I am that. And I am, from time to time, Roberta, if I am in a chat room.
People have known me by many titles. In high school, I was Student and Key Club Vice-President and Queer Bait. In college, I was Pledge and then Disappointed and then Transfer Student. I am still amazed at how picky certain so-called “brotherly” organizations can be. And I am actually glad that they didn’t choose me for their stupid fraternity.

To some I am fantasy, and to others I am Frank, mostly because I have told them that this is my name—even though it is not even close to my name. I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a pita. Why the pita? That counts as another mystery.

I am everything and I am nothing. I am just kidding; I am not everything and nothing. That would be ridiculous. I am just everything.

I am what I eat. And I am this especially when I bite my nails.

I have been called Hey, You! and Get Out of the Way! and Look Out! And then, some time later, Plaintiff.
I am my own worst critic. I am going to give you an example. “That’s not me enough” is the kind of thing I am prone to say about myself. See what I mean? I am sure you do.

I am the silent majority.

I am a loud minority.

I am not talking about Puerto Ricans when I say that, because I am not a racist. I am just clearing that up. In fact, I am pretty sure I have at least one friend from each of the races (Hi, Guillermo).

I am friend. I am foe. I am fo’ sho’. What up, y’all?

I am sorry about that. I was just talking to one of my race friends, a black one. I am white and I am black. And I am both of these when I am dressed as a mime. And then I am sh-h-h.

I am Batman, but only on Halloween. And then I am not invited to many parties. But I am fine with that, because that just makes me an even more accurate Batman (because Batman does not go to parties as Batman but only as Bruce Wayne). I am right about this.

I am someone who likes to go to the park. But I am not the guy with the Labrador retriever and the tennis ball and the tattered book under his arm, who is wearing fleece and is kind of tan. No. I am not that guy. I am sick of that guy and all the women who talk to him.

I am the Walrus, but not the one you’re probably thinking of. I am the Other Walrus, the one who is less the Walrus in the sense of legendary music and more the Walrus in the sense of his tendency to lie around on a beach for too long.

I am bravery. I am courage. I am valor. I am daring. I am holding a thesaurus.

I am the sun. I am the moon. I am the rain, I am the earth. I am these when I am taking mushrooms with Kevin. I am good friends with Kevin. I am not sure what Kevin’s last name is.

I am sometimes referred to as Excuse Me in an annoyed tone of voice, because apparently I am in the way. I am so sorry. I am supposed to be some sort of mind reader, I guess. I am moving out of the way now as slowly as I possibly can. I am doing this and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I am often the one they call You but I am no more You than you. I am me. And I am more Me than you are or can ever be. And one time I was Corey for almost five minutes while I was talking with a stranger, until she realized that I was not her friend Corey.

I am neither here nor there, but there—a little to the left. Yeah. That’s me.

I am waving at you. I am waving right at you now.

I am looking right at you.

I am sensing that you don’t know me. I am starting to feel awkward.

I am getting out of here. ♦

The Dream

Usually passing through
forgotten
but not this time
a specter
of failures
of regrets
that hangs over me
in my waking hours
tinting my day
grey

Quotes

"When you're a kid, they tell you it's all 'Grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid' and that's it. But the truth is the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker. And so much madder… And so much better." - Love & Monsters, Doctor Who

"We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one." - The Big Bang, Doctor Who

I Do This

Inspiration

Light study in my living room.

Good Poetry

"Baby Pants"
by Misha Collins
The Columbia Poetry Review #21, 2008 Edition. 

This morning I drive across town for a friend 
To Justin’s house on a Saturday at 9.
His wife yells from under wet hair
Belt unbuckled
“Justin!”
He’s down in the office
And I sit—collapse on the new couch
Custom made, brown and squarer than a couch should be.
Justin’s baby produces baby pants for my inspection.
I’m impressed, he can find his own pants now.
Can’t put them on, but knows
They go
On his baby legs.
And there I am
With my friend’s family
On a weekend morning.
The mother holds an envelope
In her teeth
Hoists and struggles
To pant her boy.
I’m slouching and hot in my vest
My blue, down vest.
Thinking today was colder than it is.
Forgetting that fall in California
Is like summer back home.
Plastic diapers pack the thighs of tiny corduroys
The smell of Cheerios bloated and floating in milk
What have I missed?

Born to Die

I was listening to a song by Scissor Sisters in the car.  This is a song I've heard many times on my iPod, but this was the first time those three words stuck to me, and my mind began to ruminate on its meaning. Born to die.

Just google the phrase and the first thing you'll find is a song by Lana Del Rey.  Take away her name and you see hundreds of lyrics with probably thousands of other works having used these exact words.  Born to die.

A sad phrase.  Fatalistic.  Nihilistic.
Life is meaningless
Breathing in, breathing out
Life is fragile
Dying is easy
But no
We were born to do so much more
Born to live
Born to suffer
Born to love
Born to experience a world spectacular
Born to be woven into the narrative of human history
Born into the mystery

When Lyrics Speak to Me

"Never Meant to Know" by Tally Hall

Woke up today with a lay of the land
Feather in cap and the sun in the sand
It was easy
It was easy to understand
Everything suddenly falls out of sight 
Every attachment is made of delight
That you offered 
You have offered to give me life 

CHORUS
See the sky and all the land together again
See the way the earth can stay below
Who do we think we are? 
Everything plays a part 
There are some things we are never meant to know 

Having enjoyed all the meat from the bone
Is perfectly equal to being alone
It was even
But you breathe and I turn to stone
Everything suddenly looks like a sign 
Easy to see from the outermost clime 
I believe in what I leave in the way behind

CHORUS

And all the parts combine to one 
And all of us around the sun 
Everything will fall away 
To order from the disarray 
See the sun the shadows cast
From all the times I floated past
See the ocean spinning out
With all the hope; all the doubt

See the sky and all the land together again
See the way the earth can stay below
Who do we think we are?
Everything plays a part
There are some things we don't understand
Reasons on the other hand
There are some things we are never meant to know

__________________________________________________________

Never has a song resonated with my outlook in life than this one.  I think it takes one profound moment--one encounter with something completely out of your own understanding and reasoning to change the way you see the world to such where everything suddenly looks like a sign.  For me that moment came in Juarez, Mexico.  And since then, I've seen that the Creator indeed intervenes in the affairs of insignificant humans like myself.

I think this is where I renounce my deist views as much as it gave me comfort to know what I was and what my beliefs could be labeled as at that point in my life.  It's time for some cognitive dissonance.  It's time for new struggles to figure out what I believe.

Euphoria

This evening I have been in a state of euphoria.
Pure. Absolute. Bliss
The floodgates have opened - endorphins, steratonin, dopamine have been unleashed

Tears of joy
Joy that I have found my lust for life
Joy that I have been so blessed
Blessed that all the stars have aligned to this moment
A star of a loving family
A star of amazing friends
Hundreds of stars - each a blessing
Acts of kindness
Memories of happiness

Words cannot describe it
I want to scream
I want to swear
In futile attempts to express
How happy I am

I told myself
Remember tonight
Remember the 7th of August
My Ebenezer to the blessings that abound

Strange Facinations

One of my new interests this past year has been power lines.  I think it says a lot about my upbringing--something shaped by the urban landscape I've been surrounded by all my life.

My childhood home was located in a cul-de-sac neighborhood of twenty houses just off a busy road and overlooking a freeway.  The sound of cars driving by was constant, but not overbearing as I would imagine it being if I lived next to the freeway.  It was something that was noticeable during a quiet afternoon or in the still of the night.  I had a friend who grew up along the Oregon coast just a few feet from the shore.  He would tell me of how it was difficult to sleep without hearing the ocean and the sound of waves crashing up against the shore.  When he said this I laughed and told him how the freeway was my ocean.  How the distant sound of cars driving by soothed me to sleep every night as a child.  One of my recurring dreams was that I'd wake up and hear silence-the sound of cars gone.  Then wander down to an desolate freeway and a world devoid of people.

Now none of this so far has anything to do with power lines.  In fact, there were no power lines in my little neighborhood; they were all underground.  But fast forward to the present, and I am now living in a large suburb--no more freeway.  However this suburb is old and littered with power lines.  When I first moved here I detested the power lines.  There are magnificent sunsets in this new neighborhood; however, enter the power lines. They cut through the skyline in a haphazard kind of way.  The indifference these power lines have to ruining a beautiful skyline is infuriating.  But my annoyance with them has slowly transformed to fascination.  If I just take my focus away from the sky and onto the power lines themselves, they become quite beautiful.  Transformers with bundles of wires hanging out, crisscrossing lines that form abstracts, birds sitting on them to create strange musical symphonies.

What I Want

Is a love for life; a lust for life
The sensuousness of living
I once had it
Not too long ago
Or maybe long ago
But not now
Not at this moment

I have a love in my life
And I pour as much love as I can give
But I know I could give more
Had not I run poured it all into my first love

My first love who would surprise me in its spontaneity
My first love whom I would look forward to greeting each day
Life

How each moment was a Moment that I'd cherish
Fleeting but loved in its own time
Where has it gone?

The Shock

Complaints
What could it be?
Bad words, foul mouths
Oh goodness me!

Well what did they say?

They said something
That I cannot recall

A shock at the time
Now nothing at all

Note: I found this in my drafts and couldn't for the life of me figure out what had prompted the initial post.

The Heavy Heart

The heavy heart has a slow ache

To make you want to howl in pain

The stain in your past

The last thing you feel before you sleep

Wishing you could pull it from your gut
Where it lies
And leave it at the alter