We're not built to stay in one place too long.

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Purexed




I'm trying not to slip. Been trying not to lose footing, loose land keeps the pressure on my kicks.

Cause when I fall I tend to land like a ton of bricks. Stand like a man made of concrete and sediment like, fuck your skin. Nobody needs it. There's bones muscle and blood, whats realer than fat and tendons? It's raw, no soft tissue to draw your eyes to it. So far, flesh ain't the truest, let's all rip into it.

We're all sick of the missed shots.

Passed over like the last man picked, no team, so pissed off. And thats not honesty, thats just soft curves that have your world flipped, got you making mix tapes for girls.

And thats the skin again. Let's blame the skin again, stretching itself so fluidly over these awkward ligaments.

I didn't shave today. I probably wont tomorrow and its safe to say I'm never going to shed these extra...

So fuck it, back to the wall.
Crush it, laugh at em all.
Hush...let em try to find the beauty in your face.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Homework

Every day one of my schools has me give an English dialogue with the students right before everyone eats lunch. Over the intercom. At first this was terrifying, but I quickly realized about 99% of the school has no idea what I am saying anyhow, so there is really no reason to be nervous. Its just that the kids say something in Japanese, and I repeat what they said in English, then the kids repeat what I said. Its incredibly comical. And I have now taken to simply trying to get them to laugh on the intercom while being broadcast to the entire school. I use funny accents, or dance like a maniac behind them while they talk. Today one of the girls completely lost it, and had to have a friend step in to finish. She hit me over the back of the head, but I pretty much deserved it. Besides, she was in sixth grade, not much behind those slaps.

The reason I mentioned this to be slightly terrifying, is due to the process. They come find me after my last class just prior to lunch.

They say (in Japanese) "It's time for the special English lesson."

I stand with a petrified look on my face, as they hand me a sheet full of Kanji and Japanese words. They expect me to know what it means. At first I would then run to the other teachers who barely spoke English, and they would explain to me the vocabulary. Today however, was different. A incredibly quiet kid from my favorite 6th grade class came to find me. He hands me the sheet and we go through the usual routine.

"Its time for the special English lesson." He says.

"Hai. Wakarimasen." I reply.

Then he points to the sheet, and in perfect english says "What vegetables do you like? I like Bamboo sprouts, and cabbage." Which was the line I should be repeating.

WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IN CLASS!?!? I haven't taught 'Vegetables', 'bamboo sprouts' or 'cabbage', let alone how to string all of that together in a sentance. in fact about all we have gone over is "Like." He never says anything, and he speaks more English than any of the teachers in the school. I was stunned.

The novelty of "Scotti Sensei" is wearing off in my Junior High. They still enjoy me of course, but as I was discussing with Stuart this evening, they seem to be reverting to their supposed 'Usual Behavior' now, even when I am around. Sleeping in class, rolling their eyes when asked questions. Usual Junior High responses, I suppose. On top of that we have received a bunch of Student Teachers from Hiroshima University to help at the school. One of them is a young man. He (thankfully) has distracted the girls in the school. I now laugh at them when they giggle as he walks past. The student teachers are at a lower end of the totem pole than even I am within the teaching staff at Yoshida Junior High. Although, Adam was commenting that perhaps we are on an entirely different totem pole. These kids bow like maniacs when I come in, and essentially treat me like one of my students. It really is uncomfortable. And for some reason of all the people I have met in japan (Japanese people that is.) No one seems to give me their name when I introduce myself. I really can't explain this. Maybe they just expect me not to remember it? If so, they are right. But still, I wouldn't mind getting a vague idea. I have teachers I work with quite regularly who at this point would undoubtedly be offended if I came at them saying I don't know their name. I don't know how to rectify this problem. It will hopefully work itself out.

I won't be able to afford to come home this summer. I am letting that sink in. Part of me is oddly thankful. Although I am terribly lonesome for home, it seems a little silly to spend my break back there, when there is so much to see here. It is weird to admit that I literally have no clue when the next time I go to the states will be.

The Oil spill almost brings me to tears to think about.

Although, there is a lot here that brings me far more joy than I expected. Teaching in and of itself is wonderful. I have been writing constantly...obviously not here. But in Brynn and Jason's wonderful present. I have been running a lot. In fact, last night I went for a run through the mountain. I was gone for about a half an hour, and pretty deep onto a old road in the woods, when I hear a scream and rustle in the forest. I immediately stopped, knowing it had to be monkeys. The way they moved, even the smell reminded me of the monkey enclosures at the Zoo's i visit. I began making my best impression of monkey noises, and jangling my keys in an attempt to get them to come out of the woods. it was night so I could not really see anything. However, it was working, they started coming back towards me. Just as I was sure they would break the refuge of the forest wall a lone car drove past, caused another outlandish scream and they took off again. This morning in my Elementary School, I was discussing local animals with a teacher who lives just behind me. She said on her drive home the other night she saw a bear. I can't shake the feeling that a bear thought it might be close to enjoying a tasty monkey as I stood in the road making squeaks and cries.

Last weekend brought thousands of visitors to Hiroshima for a Yukata festival. Summer Kimono's. The kimono's where beautiful.

As was the company I kept.

More to come on that. It's late.


My Backyard. He is developing his "C" shape nicely.



Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Suddenly, everything has changed.





I love you Internet, for keeping me in touch with home.


I hate you Internet, for keeping me in touch with home. 


Rice planting season. They have ceremonies for the beginning (or slightly after the beginning) of the season. The women dress in Kimono, and stand in knee deep mud and water planting rice, while the men pound drums, play flutes and juggle some sort of crazy stick. We received an invite last Sunday to visit a rice festival. The planting started at 10am, and at 5:30 there was a party to celebrate. So being the lazy foreigners we are we wound up at the party in the evening, but missed the planting. I regret this now, but had no clue what I was missing at the time. 

I had met a woman named Naomi at my sports festival (see below, me running like an ass.) her and her husband (and their four children!) live in a Buddhist temple north of the town I teach in. My good friend Adam teaches her kids at one of his schools. They like foreigners, and speak really impressive English. So they asked us to come out and visit the town festival. We showed up prior to Naomi getting there...therefore upon entry into the party, we met about a dozen terrified faces staring back at us. They had no clue what we planned on doing there, or how we got invited. But of course, this is Japan...they cant deny us, (they could...actually...) nor do they grasp enough English to ask exactly why we are there.  So we nervously entered and sat down at a open table. 

Pretty quickly one of the locals came and asked us who we are and who we know. He was being polite about it, as it only takes about three seconds of talking to Adam, Ryan or myself to realize we come in peace. He understood that we know Naomi, and Adam teaches next door, and like that we became guests of honor. Of sorts. 

I was driving our group of Gaijin, and therefore could not drink. However, everyone else at the party seemed alright with drinking, and proceeded to. Heavily. I have come to find this is a "Drinking Culture" but they just cant handle it the same way we can. They were sauced early on.  But quickly after our delicious meal (complete with plenty of curious guests sitting by us for a few moments.) came some more drinking, and a famous Shimasen player from Tokyo put on a concert for us. How she wound up playing in this tiny town hall is beyond me. (click this link...she was not the blonde woman. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhtXZAFom7A )

This concert became a sing along with all the participants, and after she let the three of us play her guitar. Ryan pulled out some Nirvana. I was very impressed. 

For a few hours after the concert we found ourselves talking with literally everyone at the party. One of the planners came over and asked Ryan and I to talk some sense into his daughter. Apparently she had no "direction" in life. She just graduated High School, and had no job or plans for college. I mostly talked with her about pop-stars I didn't even know about from America. I failed. Ryan really wanted to reach this kid. He quasi-adopted her.

At one point one of the locals was trying to offer me a drink. I denied. He said "you are right, it is not safe to drink and drive, the police station is next door."

I laughed and said "Yes I know."

He replied, "But the police officer is over there." and pointed to a belligerently drunk man rolling backwards onto the floor a few tables down. 

If these sorts of things keep happening to me, it is going to be quite difficult to pry myself away and come home.