Tonight, at one of my favorite bars, I had a potentially life changing encounter. I saw the Japanese man and woman from the corner of my eye talking to my bartender. The man asked the bartender if he knew who the guy in the corner of the room was (pointing to me), the bartender shrugged, not knowing my name. The two approached me and asked if I spoke Japanese. Luckily, I was with two of my friends who speak decent Japanese and we were able to piece together the conversation.
The man asked me if I wanted to be his hair model for a competition in early May. I agreed. Mostly because stuff like this does not happen too often. After agreeing we exchanged information and he told me that he wants to have a practice cut next Saturday. So in one weeks time I will be getting a free haircut, I hope.
I do not know what else to say at the moment, I am still kind of a bit skeptical about the whole situation. More on this as it develops...Seriously random.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
A Myth Exposed
So it has come to my attention that many Japanese people have caught on to the most important and devious lie perpetrated by the foreigners in this country. We have been trying for centuries to keep this aspect of foreigner's lives from becoming a wide-spread, well known fact. Ever since the Dutch landed in Japan in the early 1500's, has this secret been guarded by many who would prefer to remain nameless.
Nevertheless, I shall, once and for all, declare that, in no uncertain circumstances, that all, every single foreigner in the great land of the rising sun, Japan, knows one another, in some manner or way.
There, it has been said. Clearly. Over the centuries our secret code and greetings have been passed down through word of mouth as an oral tradition. For the first time in the history of the "gaijin", the Code of the Foreigner is to be detailed in full.
First, all foreigners of all races, creeds, and nationalities are, without exception, included in this small yet secretive sub-society.
Secondly, every gaijin is required to follow these rules, lest they be shunned and word spread amongst the networks.
Thirdly, acknowledgement of a fellow foreigner is required by the Code of the Foreigner. The method of recognition is also quite detailed. (A) At the distance which the foreigner is indeed identified as a foreigner, usually about 20 meters, eye contact must be strictly avoided. (B) As the distance between the two shrinks, eye contact is also to be avoided. (C) At the last possible moment, at a distance of 3 or 4 meters, the two must make eye contact and execute the proper greeting, as determined by the chart below:
First encounter -- eye contact and a slight nod of one's head
Second encounter -- distinct head nod and utterance (under one's breath) of a verbal greeting of one's choice
Third encounter -- audible greeting
And so on encounter -- Nod and audible greeting
Daily encounter -- Top Gun style high-fives and personalized nicknames
Fourthly, upon arrival in Japan, every foreigner must be trained to use their internal gaijin radar. This "gai-dar" is tripped when a foreigner enters the personal space of another foreigner. This helps to avoid possible inter-gaijin turf battles, which have been so common of late.
Fifthly, all foreigners who live in Japan are required to attend quarterly meetings to reacquaint themselves with the other gaijin in their region.
Sixthly, in the off chance that a Japanese person is to ask about the existence of the international community or if you do, in fact, "Know that guy?", members of this gaijin community are to lie through their teeth or feign ignorance on the subject. We must remain secret. It is how we survive.
Lastly, one is not to talk about the Code of the Foreigner to anyone, including other apparent members of the foreigner society. This is to ensure that no Japanese spys dressed as gaijin are alerted to the existence and the day to day workings of the nationwide gaijin community.
Now, some of you may be wondering how I am to survive in this harsh land without the support of the nationwide community and foreigner networks. Shunned I will be from this group, but little do I care. If this is the last communique you receive from me then so be it. It was worth it to expose the myth.
Nevertheless, I shall, once and for all, declare that, in no uncertain circumstances, that all, every single foreigner in the great land of the rising sun, Japan, knows one another, in some manner or way.
There, it has been said. Clearly. Over the centuries our secret code and greetings have been passed down through word of mouth as an oral tradition. For the first time in the history of the "gaijin", the Code of the Foreigner is to be detailed in full.
First, all foreigners of all races, creeds, and nationalities are, without exception, included in this small yet secretive sub-society.
Secondly, every gaijin is required to follow these rules, lest they be shunned and word spread amongst the networks.
Thirdly, acknowledgement of a fellow foreigner is required by the Code of the Foreigner. The method of recognition is also quite detailed. (A) At the distance which the foreigner is indeed identified as a foreigner, usually about 20 meters, eye contact must be strictly avoided. (B) As the distance between the two shrinks, eye contact is also to be avoided. (C) At the last possible moment, at a distance of 3 or 4 meters, the two must make eye contact and execute the proper greeting, as determined by the chart below:
First encounter -- eye contact and a slight nod of one's head
Second encounter -- distinct head nod and utterance (under one's breath) of a verbal greeting of one's choice
Third encounter -- audible greeting
And so on encounter -- Nod and audible greeting
Daily encounter -- Top Gun style high-fives and personalized nicknames
Fourthly, upon arrival in Japan, every foreigner must be trained to use their internal gaijin radar. This "gai-dar" is tripped when a foreigner enters the personal space of another foreigner. This helps to avoid possible inter-gaijin turf battles, which have been so common of late.
Fifthly, all foreigners who live in Japan are required to attend quarterly meetings to reacquaint themselves with the other gaijin in their region.
Sixthly, in the off chance that a Japanese person is to ask about the existence of the international community or if you do, in fact, "Know that guy?", members of this gaijin community are to lie through their teeth or feign ignorance on the subject. We must remain secret. It is how we survive.
Lastly, one is not to talk about the Code of the Foreigner to anyone, including other apparent members of the foreigner society. This is to ensure that no Japanese spys dressed as gaijin are alerted to the existence and the day to day workings of the nationwide gaijin community.
Now, some of you may be wondering how I am to survive in this harsh land without the support of the nationwide community and foreigner networks. Shunned I will be from this group, but little do I care. If this is the last communique you receive from me then so be it. It was worth it to expose the myth.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
An Exaggerated Happenstance
The Old Man and the Alley
by Mike (who once dressed up as Ernest Hemingway, so it's all good)
On a long and lonesome road, lit sporadically with the escaped fluorescent light of bars and restaurants and cell phone shops, an old man trudged. Half toppled over in age and pain he stepped one step at a time, returning to somewhere, somewhere only the wind could know. On the corner, the hanging lamp swung and flashed as the inner bulb received its life giving energy. Rhythmically it swayed, back and forth, back and forth, back and - the light blinks out. The old man looked up longingly at the fickle lamp, twisting and undulating as an unpredictable metronome would.
Across the alley, a young man approached uncaring. Completely caught up in contemplation of the world's great questions or unpredictable lyrical cadence of Frank Zappa, working its way into his brain. He crossed the street, heading directly toward the old man whose focus remained on the lively black metal above his head.
Neither noticing the others existence. Both not knowing the ensuing event that would change both of their lives forever.
Rapidly, the young man closed the distance.
Standing meditatively, the old man waiting, for what, he did not know.
Another step closer. And another. And another. And another until the two were merely feet apart. At that moment they made eye contact, their worlds colliding. The confrontation lasted mere nanoseconds but the imprint left on the young man will last an eternity.
In the last possible moment, the young man sidestepped to avoid a physical collision. The old man turned and watched as the young man walked passed him, not even acknowledging or recognizing the old man. He reached out. The still-swaying light flickered and ignited.
In surprise at the sudden illumination as well as the shockingly powerful grip of the old man, the kid turned with startling quickness to face the old man. In a matter of instinct and self-preservation, he turned and knocked the old man's hand away. It was at this moment that they both saw the errors in their actions. The young man was not who the old man thought he was and the old man was not the threat the young man imagined.
Standing both eerily confused, they both apologized. The old man in his black restaurant apron, stained with the evening's menu stared for a moment in surprise, unblinking, while the young man carrying a white bundle of martial arts gear stood confused and lost.
The light above winked out, and in the darkness the black spaces that were once occupied by human beings were now indistinguishable from the rest of the inanimate ally. They both turned and trudged on.
by Mike (who once dressed up as Ernest Hemingway, so it's all good)
On a long and lonesome road, lit sporadically with the escaped fluorescent light of bars and restaurants and cell phone shops, an old man trudged. Half toppled over in age and pain he stepped one step at a time, returning to somewhere, somewhere only the wind could know. On the corner, the hanging lamp swung and flashed as the inner bulb received its life giving energy. Rhythmically it swayed, back and forth, back and forth, back and - the light blinks out. The old man looked up longingly at the fickle lamp, twisting and undulating as an unpredictable metronome would.
Across the alley, a young man approached uncaring. Completely caught up in contemplation of the world's great questions or unpredictable lyrical cadence of Frank Zappa, working its way into his brain. He crossed the street, heading directly toward the old man whose focus remained on the lively black metal above his head.
Neither noticing the others existence. Both not knowing the ensuing event that would change both of their lives forever.
Rapidly, the young man closed the distance.
Standing meditatively, the old man waiting, for what, he did not know.
Another step closer. And another. And another. And another until the two were merely feet apart. At that moment they made eye contact, their worlds colliding. The confrontation lasted mere nanoseconds but the imprint left on the young man will last an eternity.
In the last possible moment, the young man sidestepped to avoid a physical collision. The old man turned and watched as the young man walked passed him, not even acknowledging or recognizing the old man. He reached out. The still-swaying light flickered and ignited.
In surprise at the sudden illumination as well as the shockingly powerful grip of the old man, the kid turned with startling quickness to face the old man. In a matter of instinct and self-preservation, he turned and knocked the old man's hand away. It was at this moment that they both saw the errors in their actions. The young man was not who the old man thought he was and the old man was not the threat the young man imagined.
Standing both eerily confused, they both apologized. The old man in his black restaurant apron, stained with the evening's menu stared for a moment in surprise, unblinking, while the young man carrying a white bundle of martial arts gear stood confused and lost.
The light above winked out, and in the darkness the black spaces that were once occupied by human beings were now indistinguishable from the rest of the inanimate ally. They both turned and trudged on.
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Nonsense that is the Japanese Language
Today in my Japanese textbook, there was a short explanation why there are so many different names for family members. I chocked it all up to the fact that this language has about 3 other languages hidden below the spectrum of what the average non-native speaker could ever understand. But what caught my eye today referred to the reason why husbands and wives refer to each other as "おとうさん/otousan " and "おかあさん/okaasan" meaning father and mother, respectively.
The reason that the book gives is so that their children grow up knowing what to call their parents in public. The other, more frighteningly awkward reason is that because Japanese people feel embarrassed when they are called by or call other people by their first name. This also explains why one calls the principal Family Name - こうちょうせんせい(kouchyousensei). But this brings up a strange problem. Once you are married to someone, the awkwardness of calling someone by their first name is still there...and seeing as both partners would have the same family name, it would be rather silly to call that person by an honorific like -san or -sama. As a result, the loving couple is likely to call each other mother and father. Wow.
The reason that the book gives is so that their children grow up knowing what to call their parents in public. The other, more frighteningly awkward reason is that because Japanese people feel embarrassed when they are called by or call other people by their first name. This also explains why one calls the principal Family Name - こうちょうせんせい(kouchyousensei). But this brings up a strange problem. Once you are married to someone, the awkwardness of calling someone by their first name is still there...and seeing as both partners would have the same family name, it would be rather silly to call that person by an honorific like -san or -sama. As a result, the loving couple is likely to call each other mother and father. Wow.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Adventures of a Fantasy Fan: Part 2
The journey began painfully as the sun rose over the hills, stinging Grimm Salva's eyes. Yet, there was a sparkle there, one not seen since his days on the battlefields. Years had past since his last expedition and his desire to wield his sword waned daily. He had witnessed and perpetrated horrifying things in the name of profit, and had no desire to follow that path again.
East he jogged, setting a steady pace up and over the first hill over looking his up-until-recently private corner of the world. He looked back. Passed his small cottage, far in the distance, rose the smoke of campfires, hundreds of campfires. He knew the sights, sounds and smells of an army on the march well. This was not a battle Grimm could win alone, nor was it a battle he wished to fight at all. Judging from the recent goblin activity to the West, was was sure that the goblin horde was headed East, toward the Tower of Unusual Protuberances and the tower's surrounding town, Laybren. Grimm could have taken off South and avoided this entire situation, but the thrill of battle and the promise of treasure, no matter how repugnant Grimm believed this to be, guided him onward to find allies in the coming fight.
------
By the early evening, a small scouting party had reached a lone cabin in the grassy fields, hidden below a ridge. A seemingly well-trained force of humanoids approached the structure cautiously from both sides. Wearing all black and dirt covered cloth and carrying weapons coated in mud and ash, the stealthy group reached the door, barely making a sound. The leader of the party was a short and well-built goblin whose face, if it could have been seen through the black cloth face mask, held a fierce snarl and an ancient scar from his left ear to his upper lip. He silently crept to the door and tested the lock. To his surprise the door creaked open. His partners stood guard in the shadows of the cabin waiting for the signal that everything was clear inside. Keto, the veteran scout, surveyed the cabin with his twisted dagger blacked with ash in his hand. There seemed to be nothing here except an unmade bed and some worthless trinkets.
Ever the anxious and blood thirsty race, one of the goblin scouting party crashed through the back wall of the cabin, screaming a goblin war cry, flailing a war hammer about his head. Keto, never surprised by the inability of his race to follow orders, stepped into the shadow of a door. As the crazed goblin charged in, he met with a twisted dagger to the lung. The sheer force of Keto's thrust nearly caused the expecting berserker's heart to burst. The crashes and the gurgling death throes of their comrade peaked the interest of the other three goblins who rushed in to investigate. They found Keto kneeling over their dead companion twisting and unscrewing the dagger from its place lodged in between the dead monster's vertebrae.
With a miserable snarl, the goblins charged unexpectedly. The closest beast, not even bothering drawing his short sword, leaped from the front door at Keto, who was still fumbling with his dagger. Teeth and claws bared open, the goblin landed on Keto who released his dagger and rolled back with the momentum of the toothy missile, kicking the goblin high into the roof of the building. As the thing fell with a groan, Keto was on him. Drawing the short sword from the stunned goblin's belt and driving it home, up into the stomach of the prone humanoid, tearing a hole in the thing's heart.
The second goblin was more cautious. His spear would have made for a formidable weapon had the two foes met outside, where range and distance were advantageous. But inside the small cabin the spear was a mere hindrance. Without thinking, Keto sprung back dodging the first thrust of the spear and then the second. The new foe took his eyes off of Keto for a split second to survey the room as he drove his spear at Keto, he saw his two downed comrades and hesitated to continue his push. But it was too long of a hesitation. Within that moment, Keto closed the gap between him and the spear wielding monster and passed the point of the spear. Grabbing the shaft with his left hand and rushing forward he drove the butt of the spear into the goblin's gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. At the same time, Keto brought the short sword up in his right hand over his left shoulder and swung, the already bloody tip sliced effortlessly though the neck the green monster's silk stealth suit and his neck. It fell to the ground clutching for his spraying red life force.
The last goblin saw what quick work Keto had made of his scouting party and took off running parallel to the small cliff. Keto heard him scurrying away and charged out the hole which his first victim made. Spear in hand, Keto launched the missile at his last fleeing enemy and watched as the metal spear head pierced the monsters back and exited his stomach. The goblin paused for a moment and laughed as the last of his "comrades" fumbled to the ground, skewered like a wild boar.
It seemed that Keto had chosen an unusual side in the coming war with the humans.
East he jogged, setting a steady pace up and over the first hill over looking his up-until-recently private corner of the world. He looked back. Passed his small cottage, far in the distance, rose the smoke of campfires, hundreds of campfires. He knew the sights, sounds and smells of an army on the march well. This was not a battle Grimm could win alone, nor was it a battle he wished to fight at all. Judging from the recent goblin activity to the West, was was sure that the goblin horde was headed East, toward the Tower of Unusual Protuberances and the tower's surrounding town, Laybren. Grimm could have taken off South and avoided this entire situation, but the thrill of battle and the promise of treasure, no matter how repugnant Grimm believed this to be, guided him onward to find allies in the coming fight.
------
By the early evening, a small scouting party had reached a lone cabin in the grassy fields, hidden below a ridge. A seemingly well-trained force of humanoids approached the structure cautiously from both sides. Wearing all black and dirt covered cloth and carrying weapons coated in mud and ash, the stealthy group reached the door, barely making a sound. The leader of the party was a short and well-built goblin whose face, if it could have been seen through the black cloth face mask, held a fierce snarl and an ancient scar from his left ear to his upper lip. He silently crept to the door and tested the lock. To his surprise the door creaked open. His partners stood guard in the shadows of the cabin waiting for the signal that everything was clear inside. Keto, the veteran scout, surveyed the cabin with his twisted dagger blacked with ash in his hand. There seemed to be nothing here except an unmade bed and some worthless trinkets.
Ever the anxious and blood thirsty race, one of the goblin scouting party crashed through the back wall of the cabin, screaming a goblin war cry, flailing a war hammer about his head. Keto, never surprised by the inability of his race to follow orders, stepped into the shadow of a door. As the crazed goblin charged in, he met with a twisted dagger to the lung. The sheer force of Keto's thrust nearly caused the expecting berserker's heart to burst. The crashes and the gurgling death throes of their comrade peaked the interest of the other three goblins who rushed in to investigate. They found Keto kneeling over their dead companion twisting and unscrewing the dagger from its place lodged in between the dead monster's vertebrae.
With a miserable snarl, the goblins charged unexpectedly. The closest beast, not even bothering drawing his short sword, leaped from the front door at Keto, who was still fumbling with his dagger. Teeth and claws bared open, the goblin landed on Keto who released his dagger and rolled back with the momentum of the toothy missile, kicking the goblin high into the roof of the building. As the thing fell with a groan, Keto was on him. Drawing the short sword from the stunned goblin's belt and driving it home, up into the stomach of the prone humanoid, tearing a hole in the thing's heart.
The second goblin was more cautious. His spear would have made for a formidable weapon had the two foes met outside, where range and distance were advantageous. But inside the small cabin the spear was a mere hindrance. Without thinking, Keto sprung back dodging the first thrust of the spear and then the second. The new foe took his eyes off of Keto for a split second to survey the room as he drove his spear at Keto, he saw his two downed comrades and hesitated to continue his push. But it was too long of a hesitation. Within that moment, Keto closed the gap between him and the spear wielding monster and passed the point of the spear. Grabbing the shaft with his left hand and rushing forward he drove the butt of the spear into the goblin's gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. At the same time, Keto brought the short sword up in his right hand over his left shoulder and swung, the already bloody tip sliced effortlessly though the neck the green monster's silk stealth suit and his neck. It fell to the ground clutching for his spraying red life force.
The last goblin saw what quick work Keto had made of his scouting party and took off running parallel to the small cliff. Keto heard him scurrying away and charged out the hole which his first victim made. Spear in hand, Keto launched the missile at his last fleeing enemy and watched as the metal spear head pierced the monsters back and exited his stomach. The goblin paused for a moment and laughed as the last of his "comrades" fumbled to the ground, skewered like a wild boar.
It seemed that Keto had chosen an unusual side in the coming war with the humans.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Book Review: Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut
The Sirens of Titan
by Kurt Vonnegut
This novel, like all of Vonnegut's creations, is both strange and beautiful, painful and peaceful, relaxing and anxiety producing. Emotional responses, often of a contradicting nature, are Vonnegut's specialties. As usual, Vonnegut provides no answers to the great questions of human existence which his characters often attempt, knowingly and unknowingly, to stumble upon. He has a remarkable ability to come so hair-splitting close to a profound and controversial commentary on humanity, but successfully destroys it with a well placed and memorable quotation from one of the main characters. Absolutely fantastic. Though many of his novels have the same feel to them, (i.e. unknowing character encounters forces beyond his control to come in question with the purpose of life, only to find that there is no universal purpose) I am still excited, by the prospect of self-enlightenment and self-awareness, every time I stumble across a new novel. I love Vonnegut for this reason. His books are timeless and his style is unmatched.
As for this particular novel, The Sirens of Titan, the concepts of religion, fate, space travel, robots and aliens are all discussed. I mean, who could ask for more in a novel, right? Although not nearly his best work, it is still a provocative piece of literature and is worth the few hours of reading time from a Vonnegut fan.
Now, I do not want to delve too deeply into the plot, as to not give away the story, but I think some main points are worth discussing. The main character encounters a man who, while flying in space, encountered a scientific conundrum, something like a black hole of sorts, which forced him into a position of omnipotence. The man in space existed everywhere and at all times, knowing everything from the past, present and future of this small corner of the Milky Way Galaxy (from the Sun to Betelgeuse). This man reveals the future of the main character and tells him what is going to happen. The story then spirals out into a glorious manifestation of the questions of freewill, the existence of gods and the uses of religion.
The reader is easily able to connect these topics and motifs to the real world and real religion and real science, but the novel is still entertaining if one does not want to dive into the philosophical realm. I dove. And I loved every mind twisting moment of it.
Recommended Questions to Think About:
Who is God and what makes him/her/it care about humans?
Is/are there (a) God/gods?
What purpose does religion serve to humanity?
How does one start a religion?
What is the purpose of life if one's only goal is to exist happy after death?
Lessons Learned:
Life is painful and wondrous, enjoy it while you can because you never know what's around the next chrono-synclastic infundibulum.
by Kurt Vonnegut
This novel, like all of Vonnegut's creations, is both strange and beautiful, painful and peaceful, relaxing and anxiety producing. Emotional responses, often of a contradicting nature, are Vonnegut's specialties. As usual, Vonnegut provides no answers to the great questions of human existence which his characters often attempt, knowingly and unknowingly, to stumble upon. He has a remarkable ability to come so hair-splitting close to a profound and controversial commentary on humanity, but successfully destroys it with a well placed and memorable quotation from one of the main characters. Absolutely fantastic. Though many of his novels have the same feel to them, (i.e. unknowing character encounters forces beyond his control to come in question with the purpose of life, only to find that there is no universal purpose) I am still excited, by the prospect of self-enlightenment and self-awareness, every time I stumble across a new novel. I love Vonnegut for this reason. His books are timeless and his style is unmatched.
As for this particular novel, The Sirens of Titan, the concepts of religion, fate, space travel, robots and aliens are all discussed. I mean, who could ask for more in a novel, right? Although not nearly his best work, it is still a provocative piece of literature and is worth the few hours of reading time from a Vonnegut fan.
Now, I do not want to delve too deeply into the plot, as to not give away the story, but I think some main points are worth discussing. The main character encounters a man who, while flying in space, encountered a scientific conundrum, something like a black hole of sorts, which forced him into a position of omnipotence. The man in space existed everywhere and at all times, knowing everything from the past, present and future of this small corner of the Milky Way Galaxy (from the Sun to Betelgeuse). This man reveals the future of the main character and tells him what is going to happen. The story then spirals out into a glorious manifestation of the questions of freewill, the existence of gods and the uses of religion.
The reader is easily able to connect these topics and motifs to the real world and real religion and real science, but the novel is still entertaining if one does not want to dive into the philosophical realm. I dove. And I loved every mind twisting moment of it.
Recommended Questions to Think About:
Who is God and what makes him/her/it care about humans?
Is/are there (a) God/gods?
What purpose does religion serve to humanity?
How does one start a religion?
What is the purpose of life if one's only goal is to exist happy after death?
Lessons Learned:
Life is painful and wondrous, enjoy it while you can because you never know what's around the next chrono-synclastic infundibulum.
The Downfall of Productivity
Although I have nothing to do at work until April, most likely, I am both relishing and brooding in the confusing actions of my superiors. Someone, in their most generous and greatest wisdom, decided it would be a great idea for me, essentially an office Temp, to have his own computer with Internet access at his desk. Being grateful for all wondrous boons given to me by the Japanese gods and Buddha, I am having a hard time understanding the reason behind this action. The reason this is odd is because no one else in the office has this privilege, as far as I can tell.
To preface, I did not ask for a computer at my desk, no matter how convenient it would have made the last semester. I had two perfectly fine computers at my disposal merely thirty feet away from my desk. Granted, I did spend a large majority of my time at work on those computers creating lesson plans, writing blogs, reading the news, etc. But I find it very strange that they would buy me a brand spanking new computer for my daily time wasting. Now I am not complaining. I love the fact that I can see the letters on every key and feel the new springy reaction to every letter typed. Additionally, this computer is about three times faster than the other two computers put together. All of this "kindness" leads me to be suspicious.
I have a few different theories as to why a new computer would be given to me.
First, to free the other two computers for the other teachers use. This seems like a logical happenstance. But, the more that I think about it, the more I doubt this possibility. As I am typing this, there are seven computers free in the main teachers office. The idea that my presence on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays would so cripple the computer efficiency of this office as to justify the purchasing of a new, nearly state of the art computer, is ludicrous.
Secondly, to thwart the Tuesday "gaijin" planning day. On Tuesdays, one of my friends comes to my school to teach. On these days, he and I tend to spend the day on the computers reading news, pdf copies of books, and practicing martial arts in the gym. I think that they may believe that our conspiratory huddling in the corner and rapid English use is frightening them. They may or may not believe that the utter downfall of the Japanese Empire lay in the hands of two Assistant English Teachers and their plans for world domination have been coming together on Tuesdays at this particular school. And by giving me my own computer at my desk, they believe that the plans for island domination will not come to fruition. How wrong they are!
Lastly, and probably the least likely, because they believe that a computer at my desk will make me more productive. In some essences they are correct. I no longer have to wait the six seconds it used to take to walk from my desk to the computer area. I also no longer need to wait the usual forty seconds for web pages to load. Additionally, I have been giving administrative ability and as such I am able to run the upkeep on the computer as I would on my home computer. This means that it will remain clean and fast and will not be cluttered up with other teachers' work. This is great. The downside comes from the easy access of distraction. In the past, the pure laziness that occupies the void where my soul used to be, used to stop me from standing up from my desk and walking thirty feet to the computers. This used to keep me productive in studying Japanese as well as reading. With this new distraction at my finger tips, I will need to have much more self-control if I want to remain productive and efficient, in terms of my non-job related activities.
I also run the risk of looking like an Internet rat while reading online comics and watching CNN news.
For now, courage.
To preface, I did not ask for a computer at my desk, no matter how convenient it would have made the last semester. I had two perfectly fine computers at my disposal merely thirty feet away from my desk. Granted, I did spend a large majority of my time at work on those computers creating lesson plans, writing blogs, reading the news, etc. But I find it very strange that they would buy me a brand spanking new computer for my daily time wasting. Now I am not complaining. I love the fact that I can see the letters on every key and feel the new springy reaction to every letter typed. Additionally, this computer is about three times faster than the other two computers put together. All of this "kindness" leads me to be suspicious.
I have a few different theories as to why a new computer would be given to me.
First, to free the other two computers for the other teachers use. This seems like a logical happenstance. But, the more that I think about it, the more I doubt this possibility. As I am typing this, there are seven computers free in the main teachers office. The idea that my presence on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays would so cripple the computer efficiency of this office as to justify the purchasing of a new, nearly state of the art computer, is ludicrous.
Secondly, to thwart the Tuesday "gaijin" planning day. On Tuesdays, one of my friends comes to my school to teach. On these days, he and I tend to spend the day on the computers reading news, pdf copies of books, and practicing martial arts in the gym. I think that they may believe that our conspiratory huddling in the corner and rapid English use is frightening them. They may or may not believe that the utter downfall of the Japanese Empire lay in the hands of two Assistant English Teachers and their plans for world domination have been coming together on Tuesdays at this particular school. And by giving me my own computer at my desk, they believe that the plans for island domination will not come to fruition. How wrong they are!
Lastly, and probably the least likely, because they believe that a computer at my desk will make me more productive. In some essences they are correct. I no longer have to wait the six seconds it used to take to walk from my desk to the computer area. I also no longer need to wait the usual forty seconds for web pages to load. Additionally, I have been giving administrative ability and as such I am able to run the upkeep on the computer as I would on my home computer. This means that it will remain clean and fast and will not be cluttered up with other teachers' work. This is great. The downside comes from the easy access of distraction. In the past, the pure laziness that occupies the void where my soul used to be, used to stop me from standing up from my desk and walking thirty feet to the computers. This used to keep me productive in studying Japanese as well as reading. With this new distraction at my finger tips, I will need to have much more self-control if I want to remain productive and efficient, in terms of my non-job related activities.
I also run the risk of looking like an Internet rat while reading online comics and watching CNN news.
For now, courage.
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