Let's do the Time Warp Again!

Well, Saturday night was another rockin' Hallowe'en party, even better than last years I think, if only because Cian got the depressing slow singers out of the way very early, and had the bands jumping off and on the stage in rapid succession. The flow was gorgeous, as was most of the music and costumes.

The bad fairy was once again out in her splendour, associating with the likes of Buffy the vampire slayer, obachans galore, a little bit of the wild kingdom, all the while being cheered on by pom-pommed cheerleaders and a shriner (not a fez wearing shriner, but a woman working at a shrine who sells fortunes).

Missile followed, where Buffy and I were treated to a couple of table dances and enjoyed a great deal of catty commenting on the slutty nurse. Sadly, there was nothing worth pulling, so Buffy did not need to lend me her second house key. Better luck next time, I suppose...

Ode on a Heated Toilet Seat

It coddles me in the morning and soothes me late at night.
Whilst all around me the air brings nought but chills,
The warmth that is exuded there leaves me content and placid.
I look forward to the moment when I can use my head at home,
As the pink plastic rings at school only bring me to tears of shock.
I fully understand why toilets of squat have gained prevalence in Japan,
The home of central heating's demise. Tis truly one of those pleasures
I shall miss.


(I'm pretty sure Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn was Ode on, wasn't it? Obviously, I am not yet up to his level of writing but, hey, it's a toilet seat.)

Bend Me, Break Me

Tonight is belated birthday night. Diane and I will be taking a brief holiday in Asia for Thai massages. I understand Thai massages to be the ones where the masseuse attempts to break your body, and you walk out feeling like rubber. This will be an interesting experience as the only massages I have ever tried before have been the ones that make you want to fall asleep in utter bliss. I'm a little concerned...

It's enough to put me off my lunch

Today's salad: Natto salad!

As soon as I realized the infamous natto was a part of today's kyushoku,　I hauled ass on down to the meeting room where the teachers' lunches were being meted out, calling "No natto please!" as soon as I entered the room.

I had unfortunately not been aware of today's natto content when I asked to eat with ４の１ today. I was assigned a seat by Okutani sensei next to the biggest natto fan in the whole room. His plate was heaping with natto, so much so that it almost fell off the edge of his plate. And I tried not to gag. Moved my seat as far away from his as I could, turned to watch other things, and in general tried not to breathe to deeply or cough out of fear I might be sick. I desperately tried not to watch anyone else eat as the stringy goo that suspends itself from natto made its way from plate to chopstick to mouth and down their chins and onto their desks...

One of the students exclaimed, upon seeing my natto-less plate, "Well, of course!! Foreigners never like natto!" to which I proudly mentioned my friends who gorge on it on a daily basis. Shock befell her, as she said, "But I saw it on TV!"

Really really really don't want to eat natto. I realize the unfairness of judging a food without having eaten it, but I have never liked beans all that much, and serving them to me fermented is unlikely to help. Nor can I get past the smell and sight of it all. I am desperately afraid that a force feeding would make me very very sick...

Bury Me In Music

The kitchen table, as well as half of the chairs, is buried under stacks and stacks of CDs as I try and pick out stuff for the Halloween party. I have been listening to stuff I haven't listened to in years, and am starting to feel overwhelmed by too much music. Too many good songs, I am having a tough time weeding out what will make my night. To top it off, I will have a short set. Well, it will be shorter than last year anyways, as there are a multitude of DJs, all of whom (excepting me) know what they are doing. I don't mind the short set, as it means I have a better chance to be social and dance, but will they play music I like is the main concern.

If in a couple of days no one has heard from me, please come dig me out from under the avalanche of tunes I will most likely be buried and suffocating under...

Heavy Machinery

Every morning when I arrive at school, Yuuji-kun is standing in the teachers' foyer pretending to be heavy machinery. A variety of beeps, bumps, crashes, crushes and grinding noises escape him as he maneuvers massive piles of dirt, picks up cars, knocks down buildings, and rebuilds train tracks. Every so often, I get involved and cause tragic accidents that may cause thousands of people their lives at some point in the future, as the building I helped to construct comes crashing down around their ears. It's probably safer if I stay far, far away...

Hello Auntie!

I have been getting aunt-ed constantly since I have turned thirty. Apparently I was merely an older sister until thirty, but having attained that noble goal, I have become an aunt. It seems I no longer have to wait for Jason and Liz to have kids, as young Japanese consider all woman over thirty aunts. This also works for men, as I have often heard shopkeepers calling older men uncle, and would assume there is a similar age marker for men. However I wonder if it happens at thirty, or do they get an extra five years, in line with the expected and suitable age for marriage?

If You Were My Head, You'd Know Where It Hurts

I have caught my first cold of the winter season and have been suffering from a headache since Friday morning. Not helped by having to get up early Saturday morning after having foolishly agreed to help Kaori at the International Exchange Foundation's "Hello Hokki" combined festival and charity flea market. I was the person in charge of music, which only meant I would press play on the stereo when the performers were ready. Extremely fulfilling.

The day was followed with a far more exciting request for musical supplements when Cian called to request I be one of the Halloween party DJs. I don't imagine I will get much time, as it looks like there are 4 DJs and 6 live performances happening, but at least it will be my music when I get to play it.

I then spent a couple of hours before going to bed listing songs, thinking of songs, playing songs I could use at the party, and now I am at a loss as to which direction to go in: Brit pop, funk, motown, top 40 (style, but not exactly), eighties. I have decided that whomever plays DJ after The Satuday Night Blues Band should definitely lead with "A Little Less Conversation" by Elvis and remixed by JXL.

Whatever, I'll figure it out later, hopefully after I have made my costume. Once again, the bad fairy is to be set loose on the unsuspecting.

Daycare

Next to my house is a large town community centre that offers services like daycare, fitness classes, swimming lessons and other random assorted whatevers. Everyday, walking to work, I pass by the huge windows that surround the daycare centre and see the large Hello Kitty clock hung on one of the pillars. It has the standard pink and white checked frame, as well as the added bonus of a cut-out under the 12 where two Hello Kitty figures stand. Having never been by there on the hour, I am only assuming that they dance or spin or some such when the hour passes, but that is not my favourite part. My favourite part is that it is a senior citizens daycare centre.


Good to see everyone is being treated with the honour and respect they deserve after having reached such a ripe old age. Or, that they have a pretty funky sense of humour, which would make me even happier. Or, there is absolutely no sarcasm at all, and people have reverted to their childhood.

Discord

"Hard Gay" seems to have seeped its way into elementary schools as well... Yesterday, during lunch with one of the 2nd grade classes, I was treated to several impromptu performances of the hard gay "dance" (too generous a description?) and accompanying "Fuuuuuuuuu!" by several 7 year old boys. Aaah, life is good.


The Hard Gay moves! Making its way across the nation, invading schools, libraries and rest homes! And you too can be a hard gay dancer! It's a dream for many, and you can make it happen! Just put on a little leather -- jocks; vests; village people hats and dog collars -- and follow these simple steps!!

1. Stand with your legs fairly wide apart, knees slightly bent.
2. Lean your upper body back a little bit.
3. Straighten your hands, fingers tight together.
4. With you hands moving in synchronicity, make a rapid up and down motion (angled, like a V-shape) moving towards, then away from, your crotch.
5. All the while, make a loud and long shout of "Fuuuuuuuuuu!" (to rhyme with wooooo).

There you have it, now go out there and share the love with random strangers on the streets!

Inspiration Suffers

It feels like I have lost all my inspiration, all desire to carry on writing this thing since I crashed and burned it into little tiny cyber-pieces... I used to have days where I would think to myself, "aw, man, gotta remember to blog this!" but those moments seem to have dissipated entirely. I don't even feel like doing the writing so much anymore; I am really just persisting out of ornery stubbornness. I just don't want to have a blog where nothing new is ever posted, like some friends I know. This doesn't mean I am particularly upset at people who never post, as I figure this means they have a life (whereas I just have time to waste at work) and are too busy enjoying it to write about it. But you see, blaming all this on Corinne and Ted, I have gotten addicted to these things, experiencing palpable disappointment if I check a blog and nothing has been posted in weeks. Hmmm, what's a girl to do?

Mops and Brooms and Buckets and Star-Anise Braised Pork

I have realized why I don'tenjoy cleaning particularly, or why I put it off for so long.

It's because I turn it into an all day project. I don't do any of the half-assed vacuum the floor or clear the table. I move the furnitur and mop behind the fridge, scrub down my shower and clean out the drains, air out my futons and vacuum the tatami... Everything but the windows. 450 square feet of windows are a lot of windows. I did wash the mirrors and my shower doors though!

So I spent all day Saturday cleaning my apartment in preparation for Sunday when Sarah was going to be coming over for dinner and books, CDs, DVDs and conversation. Happy times were had -- an excellent guest as she immediately started helping me clean up. She frowned and made faces at being asked to chopp but seems compulsively enthusiastic about the cleaning. Much better than most guests (except Corinne and Sophie, as they also helped clean up).

Dinner was Chinese, quasi-dim-sum, but with only 3 dishes to choose from, so maybe it doesn't count. Desert was a no-go as we were too stuffed from the stuffed eggplants, the aforementioned pork, and the tofu and mushroom stir-fry. Not to mention the pitchers full of cocktails that accompany every good chef.

I imposed Canadian-ness on Sarah, even getting her to succumb to taking a test to find out if she would qualify (a test that involved questions like:
If you have ever curled, 1 point.
If you were the skip, 10 points.
If you remember where you were when Ben got caught, 1 point.
If you remember what you were doing when Wayne got traded, 1 point.
If you didn't need any last names for those question, 10 points. )

I received in trade season 4 of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, as well as a couple of books, while Sarah walked off with several different TV series, books, and CDs; more media than she knew what to do with.

All in all, mellow and good. Looking forward to the next one.

Little Tiny Things

Today, a travelling play visited the school and I got to chat with some of the actors after who had recently come back from a play and puppet conference in Montreal. They enjoyed it immensely and hope to go back one day. They also look forward to perhaps meeting me in Osaka.

At lunchtime, a 2nd year student was wondering around, looking utterly bereft. He had lost the 10 yen coin he so carefully (well, maybe not so carefully) kept tucked away in the back of his nametag. I offered to help him find it, meeting him outside of the student lobby,　where I quickly spotted the coin. He walked away well satisfied.

During morning reading with a 2nd year class yesterday, where I used my white mouse puppet and their insanity, I met Tomohisa in the hall. He bowed very, very low, and offered gratitude in his best Japanese.

Before my 6th year class at Aimi, I met one of the special needs boys in the hallway, where we proceeded to have a brief conversation about Halloween, he in his very soft-spoken voice, causing me to slow down, just a little.

Bag-a-licious

Eating lunch with one of my 6th grade classes to do, I was informed how often one of the boys, "Mr. Yoshi" according to his classmate, bleeds from his nose. Nearly everytime he gets angry it seems. A girl sitting next to my lunchtime narrator threw in that Mr. Yoshi used an entire roll of toilet paper for his nose in the space of a month. That is a lot of nosebleeds, leading me to query, "and he's not dead yet??"

Utterly unrelated, on my way back to the staffroom, I passed along the hallway where half of the students' bag supplies are kept. In the hallway, there is a bag for PE gear, music, home economics supplies... In the classroom, the bags for art, shuuji, toothbrush and toothpaste and place mat, as well as the standard knapsack, and anything else they may have felt the urge to 持っていく to school that day.

I have been witness to small children stumbling home from school, accidentally stepping on a fallen strap slung over their shoulders and around their neck, crashing unconscious to the curb as the various bags and their weight fly off in different directions, strangling the life out of the poor bastards.

Just cause you don't hear about bag deaths doesn't mean they don't happen.

Weekend Blur

and not necessarily for a good reason. Definitely wasn't a verb like last time. More like a failed experiment with kinetic energy really.

It all started last Monday following a good weekend out. I decided that I wanted to do it again, but this time on the west side with some of my boys, so I sent out the plea. "What r u guys doing friday nite? I want 2 go out, and don't care where (well, not Piman's). And I will probably b drinking, so I may need some floor space unless I can convince Sarah or Diane to come."

The responses were fairly swift in coming, as Cian said, "That can be arranged." And Pete's reply was something along the lines of "shhh! We're planning a surprise party for Cian at the school Friday. I'll let you know." Eventually the surprise party took form, but it was lacking in the surprise element as Cian had figured it out. He even thought I was in on it because of the timing, but alas, I am not that prescient.

So Friday rolls around and Diane and I meet at DoDoDo for a delicious dinner, followed by us making our way to English School festivities, me with a card for Cian in my pocket and a bottle of white wine in hand for myself. We arrive, the party starts, well, at least my own private party did, as I rapidly took to consuming the wine. Nope, no glasses for me. Cian comments, "My mother would say, 'I didn't raise you to drink a whole bottle of wine by yourself.'" To which I retort in my infinite cleverness, "Well, you didn't bring me up to share either." Cian decides to commit that retort to memory for the next time anyone makes a like comment to him.

Pete arrives with a heaping pot of pasta and sauce at about 9:00, when most people have eaten all they are going to, and a nearly entirely empty bottle of merlot in hand. Diane points out the drunken fill line that appears on Pete's forehead; a massive white V spreading acros his head as he makes slightly fuzzy facial expressions.

Sachiko offers Katherine, Diane and I some of Pete's "everything I could find to put in it -- except the wine 'cuz I was too busy drinking and dancing around my apartment while cooking to remember to put it in" spaghetti, and we request only a little. Apparently that jut meant a small plate, not a small portion. We all taste-tested and agreed it was very good, however, we had all eaten and were no longer hungry. So, when my binge-drinker neighbour isn't paying any mind to his already emptied bowl of pasta, I dump it all in and watch when he turns around, wondering where the pasta came from. His oblivious J-girl neighbour on the other side has no idea, and he puzzles over it for a minute before he polishes it all off.

My wine consumed, 10 o'clock having passed, I get ready to message Sarah, who in an act of serendipity calls my mid-type. Dashing outside, I let her know we will be off, probably to arrive in 15 minutes after sayonaras are bid and promises are made to keep phones in reach. A decision is made to head back to DoDoDo, and when we are within 5 minutes of parking at City hall, I phone Sarah to let her know of our impending arrival. Unfortunately I phone the wrong Sara. There are 2 or more in my phone, and the one I was trying to reach was #39, while the one I phoned was #29. Ooops. The details of the conversation are fuzzy, but I was definitely having difficulty with enunciation, never mind other things.

Damn the wine, and me more for chugging it. You can totally see where I am going, can't you?

The right Sarah is reached and we venture off to DoDoDo, where some waitperson in his infinite wisdom puts on the top floor. Restaurants and stairs are fine, but at that time of night, they were going for a bar atmosphere and it is never a good idea to put visibly drunk people at the tops of stairs. Really. Especially when the bathroom is on the ground floor.

I managed to make it through the very large cookies we ordered, as well as remembering to put my phone on the table for Sarah and Diane should Cian call during what I foresaw to be one of my many trips to the washroom. Early on, I did attempt to make it back upstairs every few minutes, which Sarah later commented was very valliant, however I soon gave up, claimed a stall and remained hidden, while they would every onc in a while come in and check on me. When I had settled a wee bit, I moved out to a chair in the washroom, pulled a rug off a table and slept very comfortably.

I was informed Cian had arrived, and replied that was nice, but I didn't think I would be joining in the festivities. Later, after sleep rather than black holes of time, I was reclaimed by my friends as we ventured out into fresh air, while Cian jested and I walked in a mostly straight line. And thus the night ended.

And the hangover the next morning was a Bitch, with a capital B, that I chose to fight in a particularly slothful way, watching season 3 of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer on borrowed DVDs.

Feeling much better now though!

Literacy is Me!

Once Tracy suggested in a letter that she was thinking she might have to start a reader's journal, perhaps not just to keep track of everything she's read, but also opinions and feelings about the work. Well, I thought that was a great idea, and so last week, I started writing books down that I've read.

I suppose the intention is that you write down the books directly after you read them, but once I got started, I just couldn't stop. This doesn't mean I have written down everything I have ever read, as that would be impossible. It also doesn't mean I've written down the airplane books, which are too numerous to count, but it does mean I have written down books I liked, and even in one case a book I distinctly did not like, books that were well enough written for me to remember, if not the author, at least the title or vice versa.

I was looking over the list and I've gotta say, damn, I'm impressed. I have read some very good books. This doesn't even include the 20 or so books that I've started but not yet finished, as there are some classics in the mix there, nor the ones that are waiting beside my bed in a pile. But I really do have some decent taste in books.

I have realized that my previous reading selections are not nearly as varied as I would like, and I am working on that. Half of the cache of books I bought in Nagoya venture into the realms of social science, and history, but I am still lacking in poetry as I lean heavily towards fiction in my tastes. Not really so much on the side of science fiction though. Somehow I can't really meld those. Hmmm. Anyways, back to one of my current selections, called "Left Hand, Right Hand," which is a study of handedness and scientific theories that have existed in the past, leading up to phenomena of the present. Currently in the early going, where he is discussing theories and beliefs surrounding situs inversus, where one's nternal organs are perfectly transversed. Very interesting, I must say...