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Sidebar Changes

I’ve decided to change the sidebar’s “songs stuck in my head” to “games I’m playing”. I think this reflects just a bit more on how I be a nerd. Two of the games (Final fantasy III and Tales of Symphonia) I picked up at an import store in Akiba (that’s “Akihabara” shortened, and seems to reflect the otaku part of the location…or so I’ve been picking up). Bless the DS for being region-free. No, the gamecube isn’t, but I actually brought mine with me from the US, because I will always find pleasure playing “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time” and “Harvest Moon: Magical Melody”.

I want you all to know which games I’m playing in Japanese, because you’ll know which ones have me constantly running to the internet translations, and what are giving me the self-induced concussions from repeatedly pounding my head against the wall in frustration. Why, oh why, are the best games I’m playing right now in Japanese? Oh, I could cry.

Seriously looking forward to the “Kingdom Hearts 2 Final Mix” that includes the English voices (Kingdom Hearts 1 was also brought out as a re-release this way). At first I wasn’t sure why they were doing this until I realized that people here would want to hear the actual Disney characters’ voices in English, not the Japanese equivalent of Mickey and co. I wonder what the Japanese-version Jack Sparrow sounds like. How well does his outlandish pirate-speak translate, and who could re-create that lovely slurred accent? What’s super cool about this version is that it also includes the Gameboy Advance “Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories” which connects the KH1 and 2 storyline together. It’s also been 3D’ed to look like the other stories. Can’t freaking wait. It was released here on the 29th of March, but…no money! Augh!

I wonder (as do the Penny Arcade folks *look for the KH vid near the bottom of the page for where they talk about it* ), will it be released in North America so that everyone there can also appreciate the re-done GBA story?

I really hope so. For all you guys. Not me. I’m in the clear.

Crazy-ass lightening outside. Other than that *perhaps along with that*, it’s been a perfect day today. Perfect temperature, windy *nice when it isn’t city air*, and rainy. A really good day to open the big sliding glass door windows. I love the rain. It’s so…you know…rainy.

“What I’ve Got’s What I’ve Got” Month

I am going to see if it’s possible to refrain from buying anything at all for a month.
This includes all things involving food, the car (precariously low on gas…will I have to start *gasp* biking around again???), other transportation, movie rental, and everything else (can I get by without paying bills too? Check back later!). I’m guessing this will either find me spending more *quality* time at home, or appreciating the kindness of my friends.

I am doing this for the fun of it. This is my game.

Because to say that I spent too much in Tokyo (a word of advice, precariously placing your expensive return trip shinkansen ticket in your pocket while trying to put money up should not be a long-term plan, i.e. I’m a dumb-ass and lost it) would make this post sound a bit more desperate than necessary. So now It’s a game. Because I like games.

And it means I’ll actually eat all that food that’s been taking up space in my freezer, too.

I’m giving this a minimum of three weeks, or around April 21st (this has nothing to do with payday, I sweeaar).

There are a few unavoidable expenses, and hopefully what’s in my wallet will cover that. Postage for stamps (for the US taxes! ooh!). Enkai for leaving teachers. Travel to and from Fukuoka for an ALT hanami *cherry blossom viewing party* (I’ll skip this if I can find something going on in town, but I can’t miss a once-a-year hanami!). Milk (I needs the milk!).

Wish me luck! …I’ll need it.

Goin’ To Tokyo

Tomorrow I’ll be heading to Tokyo to hang out with my peeps and generally feel the hurt of not knowing how to save my money properly. Don’t expect any posts from me since I’m going to be leaving my computer at home for the trip.

At least today I made the final payment on my bad-ass little kei car. Though “kei” is synonymous with “little”, mine is little even for a kei car, so…there you have it folks! Big woman in a little man’s car!

What will I do when I go back to the States and men are actually taller than me again? I now know why shorter men can feel threatened by taller women, cause when I do happen upon the few women that are taller than me, I feel threatened. Cause…you know. “Being the tallest” is my turf now! Kristen (another ALT I hang with) would know. She points out a taller chick and I deny that it’s true. At this point, even if a six-foot-tall Japanese girl walked past me with no heels (which is never, by the way), I would say, “No, I’m taller. I’m just slouching is all!”. Denial is my friend.

So, I went to buy some feeder fish for my turtle while I’m away. Not sure if he’s going to eat them, but I’m giving it a shot. One of my friends will be coming by to feed him while I’m gone, but this is a backup plan. Anyways, they bubble-wrapped the bag the fish were in! Perhaps it has something to do with the large majority of bike riders here (keeping the fish safe from the bicycle basket, perhaps), but even still…I was amused.

This is such a hassle, but it’s all my fault. I have to go and dry my clothes at the laundromat that’s about half an hour away by car. I was supposed to do laundry yesterday, but managed to goof off the ENTIRE DAY (it was a holiday)! managed to see a movie with my friend (only 1,000 yen on Wednesdays, woo~!), meet a new person, have lovely dinner out, AND go to karaoke…but the cost was coming home after 11PM… Oh, when will I ever learn?

These are my friends at karaoke. Arisa (on the left) is doing a kitsune *fox* hand gesture instead of the usual peace sign. We had all been doing super fox hands the entire night. It was really funny. You just…had to be there, you know? Yeah.

The place in Yoshii is kinda posh and the rooms look like caves! Ooh. And I was expecting kinda run-down inaka style (looking like the last renovation was in the 80′s, cracked linoleum seating, and smelling like old cigarettes). I’m pleasantly surprised.

And by the way Ayumi, I wanted to invite you, but Arisa said you would still be sleeping so I shouldn’t interrupt you. Please blame her. I’m totally innocent in all of this.  Does that make me a weasel to rat out my friends?  No.  Because Arisa doesn’t own a computer and will never read this.  Ehheh.

What My Inkan Looks Like

I’d been meaning to post this for a minute, and here it is.  My inkan.

That stamp is a bit smaller than an m&m and contains my full kanji first name in it (found in the sidebar under my pic), reading from top to bottom.  That’s just amazing…even now, almost eight months after receiving it.  The little groove on my wooden inkan tells me where “up” is.

Good times.  Maybe I’ll incorporate it into my layout.  It’s a nice idea in my head, at least.

Many people who arrive here find that they’ve already had an inkan made for them, and in general, it’s their first name in katakana (mine in katakana is チャリティー, which may have given them pause until I arrived, ’cause that’s quite long for your average katakana’ized name).

Anyways, I still couldn’t be happier with my kanji name.  Real conversation piece, it is.

“Graduation” or “I Promised I Wouldn’t Cry!”

*warning* before you read, be warned that this is a detailed account of my middle school’s graduation. It is looong. Make a sandwich first. Go to the bathroom. Get comfortable.

Well, I started off the day better than usual. I was totally looking smart in my skirt suit, french-manicured nails and pumps that make me, no joke, six feet tall (not that it matters since a. I wear indoor shoes at school, and b. I tower over everyone without the help of heels). All the teachers were digging my not-trackpants look. So was I, but that’s a constant. I sacrifice pride for still-in-my-pajamas comfort.

First thing I did was go to the teacher’s restroom to check out my bad self (and make my hair even more gorgeous!). I hear a lot of young voices coming from there, and when I went in, found about five or six girls spraying their hair. At first I thought they were just trying to look pretty for the ceremony, until I noticed that the cans they had were of the same stuff the teacher had with him in the box the other day. They were making their hair black again, for hair that isn’t its natural color is a big nono.

Black hair spray, nail polish remover, and latex gloves? Must be time for graduation!

I wandered the halls, looking for my gang, but all the 3rd-years had gone to the main floor’s auditorium to practice their graduation singing (third-year classes and the teachers’ room is on the second floor). I watched everyone sing for a bit, then went to the gym to see how preparations were going. Notice yet? I was a bit restless, what with my favorite students leaving for good, and I couldn’t help but wander around aimlessly instead of fretting at my desk.

A short while before heading to the gym, I was prepping in the teachers’s room. A few boys were being made to pencil in some eyebrows (some of the more “yankee” *non-conforming to society* youths think it makes them look cool to remove as much eyebrow as it takes to look bizarro).

And now for the graduation.

All the parents showed up, and I took my place in the front row with the third-year teachers. All the students came in single file, each following their homeroom teacher. After all sat down (boys on one side, girls on the other), the principal talked about something in Japanese. Afterwards, each homeroom teacher took turns having their class bow to the principle, then would call out each student’s name that would be graduating. Lastly, a designated student from the class would go up and accept all of the graduation diplomas from the principle, bow some more, and the class would be seated.

This is where the first teacher started crying. As names were being called for one of the classes, about ten students into it, the teacher stopped. At first, no one payed much attention, but when she didn’t resume, people started looking to see what was keeping her. As soon as her students noticed what was going on, they started dabbing away at tears (with hand towels that they always have with them) themselves.

Perhaps this would be a good time to point out a big difference between schools from the US (and Canada) and Japan. In Japan, instead of going to different classes and having different students in each one, you stay in the same classroom (a few classes withheld, such as Science and Art) and the teachers come to you. Each year, students get put into different classrooms with different students, but in general, the same teachers teach the kids for the duration of middle school. For instance, the second-year teachers will become third-year teachers next semester (come April). I’m considered third-year right now, so I should be back to first-year status in April (though I teach all the classes, my desk moves with the same group of teachers…who happen to, you got it!, be third-year right now).

A plethora of mind-numbing speeches later (why do they have to keep talking in Japanese, and can I at least have subtitles??), and it’s time for the second-years to sing to the third-years. More graduating students wiping away at tears.

Then it’s the third-years who have to sing to the other students and their parents. About one in every three girls had their faces in their hand towels (the teachers were on the side with the girls), and I don’t expect that the boys were faring much better. One of the girls who started crying is apparently a bad-ass, because other girls giggled at seeing her all teary-eyed. I hope they were all friends, otherwise they’re probably getting their asses handed to them right now.

After it was over and time for the students to leave, The third-year teachers lined the end of the path the students had to walk to leave the gym, kindof like a gauntlet. Music was playing and we were all clapping for those who graduated. And of course, the students were crying.

Once all the students had left, the parents of the third-years stayed, as well as the third-year teachers. The teachers (including me) stood in a line in front of the parents as one of the teachers gave his own speech. Then he paused. For a long time. We all looked. Yep, he was crying. It took him a while to compose himself, then continued. I must admit…seeing other teachers crying makes it even that much harder to keep from doing it yourself. It really hits home how much these kids meant to the teachers. At the end, we all bowed (for some reason, I chose that moment to have silly balance and wobbled before saving myself with quick foot action-ness, not that the parents didn’t notice, I’m sure…). We all left. I went back to the teachers’ room.

Now, after all of this pomp, all the students had gone back to their classrooms, which had been decorated up by the first-years.

I was to go to 3-1 (room pictured above). Though I hadn’t expected it, the students presented both the teacher and me with bouquets. I’m not sure if I’ve ever received such a beautiful arrangement…for reals, though!

The teacher asked me to give a speech, so, in front of all the students and their parents that were lining the classroom and hallway outside, I gave an impromptu speech. Not that it mattered. I do remember saying “Im not sure if you can understand anything I’m saying, but”, and adding at the end, “congratulations on graduating!”. The teacher caught that last part (probably has something to do with the fact that I pointed to the Japanese phrase on the chalkboard) and translated it. He then started calling out each person’s name and handing them their own diplomas from the stack the principle had given each class at the ceremony. Afterwards, he began talking about one thing or another, not really sure. I was more concerned with how far my skirt was possibly riding up (I was sitting down at this point). He was talking, talking, dabbing his eyes with his hand towel. “He must have allergies like me”, I thought when I saw that. He wasn’t having any trouble speaking, so surely…allergies. Then his face got a bit more flushed, then his eyes, then he was sniffing. Dab dab dab. Wow. Now the kids looked sad. One boy looked misty-eyed. He kept talking to them, and doing things that seemed to me like he was honestly stalling for as much time as possible before dismissing them for the last time. It was all very sad.

Ok, so the kids were let out to do whatever. I milled about the room for just a moment with my giant bouquet before a girl asked to get her picture taken with me. Then another. Then another! I much have had at least seven kids ask for my picture. After I was sure no one else wanted my picture there, I went to the next classroom. Repeat picture-taking frenzy. I went to the next class, and the next, and the next. In each, a bunch of kids were all “take a picture with me!” (okok, so what they generally said was along the lines of, “Charity! Charity! picture with me?”, but yeah…I understood. Actually, perhaps it was the bounding towards me while waving a camera that gave it away.

This girl always talked crazy English to me. I think the bizarro peace sign in front of her face was totally intentional. I’ll miss her totally random English-speaking tendencies.

In one class, a girl was getting her picture taken with two boys, one of whom had very red, misty eyes, and the other had blatantly been crying. They were all there, waiting for their picture to be taken, and I couldn’t help but think, “my god, someone get that boy a tissue!”. His eyes were all wet, and two big fat tears were rolling down his cheeks. He wasn’t doing anything about them, even though they were about to be immortalized in a photo. Both of the boys looked ridiculously sad. I had to stop myself from giving them a big ol’ hug. Seriously though, I did.

Here’s a pic of me and one of the third-year teachers. her daughter graduated from Yoshii Middle School today, too, so she’s super in touch with what’s “hip” and “with it”. Perhaps you can tell from her bad-ass peace sign. Oh yeah…and I’m a bit taller than her, if you can’t tell.

I then went onto the balcony, looking for my gang, and instead found a few boys who…big surprise!…wanted a picture of me. Specifically of me. I happily obliged. It was weird, though. They just wanted pics of me, and they were all using their keitais *cellphones*. Now, keitais are forbidden at school, so they’re usually sneaky about using them (I see them all the time ’cause students know that I generally don’t care). Having just graduated, however, they didn’t seem to care anymore. All three boys had their keitais pointed at me, and I had no clue who’s camera to look at. They thought my posing was cool, at least. Speaking of posing…all day, half of it involved giving people bunny-ears. Like the pic below. Taken at the enkai *co-worker drinking party* held after school was over.

I’ll never grow up.

As I wandered the now far more empty hallway, I saw that someone had left their diploma case and a cd on the floor. More specifically, it was left where infatuated boy usually lurks. I thought to myself, “did he leave these here on purpose?”. I called to some girls if they had forgotten their diploma and they came over. They opened up the diploma case and, lo-and-behold!, the diploma was in there, and infatuated boy’s name was written on it! The group went looking for him. We found him with the gang (big surprise) outside, looking as if to leave the school grounds. I was torn. I really wanted to pester them one last time, but I had my indoor shoes on. It didn’t seem to be stopping the girls who just ran outside to give his diploma back, but I just stayed forlornly inside. I couldn’t be sure that it was ok. Perhaps they went ahead and did it because the boy was practically to his bike by then. I assumed this view from a distance would be the last I saw of them. How not-cool, since I had been looking for them all day. I went back inside.

Right, and I signed several more yearbooks today (I had been signing a bit yesterday too, as discussed in the last blog). I actually managed to spell my name wrong in one student’s yearbook, which I decided to totally lay claim to, both to the student, and his parent who was taking a picture of me signing it. In a way, I had to, because I couldn’t help but laugh,and didn’t want him thinking that I wrote something embarrasing in English in his yearbook.

That’s him in the pic below. He’s such a sweet kid, and I’ll miss having one less sane person in school to talk in simple sentences to. I’ve been observing the second-years that will soon replace the third-years, and I worry.

Afterwards, I went upstairs to the teachers’ room, then realized I had no lunch. I got on my killer heels and made my way outside from the side of the building to the front entrance when I saw a lot of bicycles and a bunch of boys looking suspiciously like my gang saying “come come!”. I trudged back to the entrance, looking as put-out as possible (though I was actually quite happy to finally find them AND have them call me over) and when they said that they wanted their pictures taken with me I said, “fine fine!”. They really like pestering me, so I know my attitude was only humoring them more. I posed for about twenty shots (I never knew who to look at, cause there were at least three people taking pics at a time). I had them take pics with my camera, too. Notice how no one’s looking the same direction. That’s because everyone’s looking at a different camera. Right, and this is usually how many of the gang I ever see at one time…about seven. Good times.

When that was all over with, I asked for a pic of everyone.

And finally! I now have a pic of the gang. The very massive gang. I guess I only ever saw about seven of them together at a time, cause there are, what…thirteen people there? Fitting number, wouldn’t you say?

And yeah, that boy’s hair is purple. He must have sprayed it that color as soon as graduation was over with. The guy showing his fist instead of the peace sign (upper right corner) is the infatuated boy. Do you see how infatuated boy’s outfit is all messed up: untucked, unbuttoned, and sagging? He went to the graduation ceremony looking like that. I wonder if the teachers were more concerned with him graduating (or perhaps the confrontation) than the image he was giving off. Every single one of these kids is a doll though…so long as you’re not trying to impart wisdom on them. I believe that the one I had given my sandwich to from the previous blog is the one in the middle.

I told infatuated boy, with the whole group there, that when I saw the diploma I thought, “Is that his?” *I won’t lie. I said this in Japanese. For once I wanted them to understand me the first time I said something.* Everyone laughed. While using his name (the first, and probably only time), I told him not to forget it again. he said, “oh, thank you”. They like to say “oh” in front of English sentences for some reason. I said my final goodbyes, congrats, and “I’ll miss you guys!” and left to get lunch.

As I got in my car, I looked at all of the pictures I had taken. With Utada Hikaru’s “Flavor of Life” song playing in the background, I nearly started to cry myself.

Stupid kids, making me all sad!

I went to Lawson’s, got the same sandwich as yesterday’s (it will now forever remind me of my first third-year gang…great) and an onigiri. Some young men in the delivery vehicle next to mine beeped their horn at me once I was back in my car, but I gave them only the most casual of glances to see if they had actually directed it at me. Yes. Yes they did.

Back to school, I found those boys still there, only with most of them in the school office. Laughing with the clerks and teachers. I was confused. That would be the last place I’d find them laughing. Who knows what went on in there, but I talked to the other few members of the gang waiting outside the office, complaining that they were hungry (join the club, yo). This time they didn’t notice my sandwich. I went and talked to some girls, and pretended to run away when my agreement to sign a yearbook turned into a request for five signings. I accepted my fate for the day and put my food to the side. I wouldn’t get around to eating it for another hour.

They’re wearing masks because they’re sick. It’s a common practice here to wear a mask for the sake of others if you have a cold, for your own sake if you have allergies, or if you’re just trying to warm up your face on a cold night. I think it just makes everyone look like they’re psychos or have TB…but that’s just me…and the majority of the Western Hemisphere.

That was my first graduation. They’ll probably only get sadder since I’ll know each student even more after this (I came in half-way through this school year). Then again, these were my first students. Perhaps this one will always be the saddest.

Only one way to find out, I guess.

Mark your calendars, and check back in a year to find out!

And a finale to the story…

I went to the graduation enkai, got stupid drunk, went to a nijikai *second location after main enkai is over*, and finished up at Tony’s Cafe. In my final drunken stupor, I looked over the pics I had taken that day…and started crying like a baby. Thank goodness that the few people there were my friends. No need to go embarrasing myself in front of the rest of my town. Not yet, at least.

Miracles DO Happen

I heard such lovely news today.  As I was signing the yearbook of the infatuated boy from my 三年生　(third year) gang, I tried verifying that he wasn’t going to high school like he had told me earlier (it would affect the message I was writing).  I said “no high school?” as I waved my hand in a “no” way.  He said, “oh, yes”.  Now, if you’ve taught junior high, you know that students wouldn’t mean “correct” by saying “yes” to a negative question.  So, I asked his friends (who at least know about five more words of English than him).  They did the same thing.  I switched my wording.  “He IS going to high school?”  “Yes.”  “Which high school?”  They told me the name of the high school in my town, then told me that they were going there too.  So this means that…

Oh my god!  He’s actually going to high school???

I had been so sad when he told me that he was too stupid to go.  I swear, he might not know a word of English, but it’s not because he’s stupid.  I remember the day he was super excited to be my reading partner in English class.  When I expected only Japanese and no English study to actually take place, he zoomed through the sentences he had to read.  I was totally shocked, yo!  Of all the people in school, he was the fastest reader?!?

*:Charity SHOCK!:*

I was in such a happy mood, when one of the gang saw my Lawson sandwich and said that he was hungry and could he have it, I paused (from saying “yeah right!”) and then said, “sure!”.  He was all, 「本当？？？　ありがとうチャリティー！」 (Really??? Thanks, Charity!).  I told them that I had already eaten a 肉まん (nikuman->steamed meat bun) so I wasn’t hungry.  The gang ate it and were appropriately appreciative (to the extent of saying “very good!” in *shock* English).

Graduation is tomorrow.

I’m really going to miss these kids.

Sewing at Work

I was so hung up on how to write two weekends worth of crazy that I ended up not writing anything at all.  At a total loss, I finally decided…to not even bother!  Just try not to think that I had crazy good times.  Even though I did.  Really crazy good times.

Anyways.

I really needed a bag to hold all of the copic markers I had started amassing.  Not really seeing anything that would work to my taste, I decided on a whim to simply sew the darn thing!  There is a store that sells sewing materials at YouMe Town, so I found some really sturdy cloth with a lovely “little red riding hood” pattern on it, got the necessary other materials, and swore I would “stick it to the man” by sewing it at my desk at school.

And that’s just what I did!  In two days, I had made myself a custom, bizarro marker bag.  Here are some crappy pics taken from a very low setting on my keitai’s camera.

The holding strap is part of the drawstring that keeps it closed.  The cord going around the middle is adjusting the size so that my markers will be snug while giving the option for future size increase.  It will look better when there are more markers, and thusly not so squashy-looking.

 If you’re wondering why some of my markers are in a separate paper bag within the bag…let’s just say that there was an incident involving a leaky red marker, and those that were “red-ified” are now in quarantine until I actually clean them up…somehow.

Previously they had all been living in a plastic bag.  I would call it an improvement.

Now that I have my bitchin’ bag, I can now join the “beautiful art” club with total lack of humiliation.  If that’s possible.  The “beautiful art” club is basically a bunch of girls who draw pretty anime boys.  Let’s see if I really have the nerve come April, when the new school term begins.  They might make me march in the club parade during the sports festival if I do, and…ah…I’m not sure about that.  I believe it’s the only club that consists entirely of girls.  Nerdy ones that don’t believe in sports.

…On second thought, perhaps I’ll fit in just fine after all.