Like A Snow Day...Except With Typhoons Instead of Snow

I’m writing this at 2:30 PM on weekday. Do you know why?

Typhoon Day!! Classes are cancelled!

And justifiably so. I usually have no respect for the weather, but this typhoon definitely has my attention, and Chaba is not to be fucked with. I’m not sure Japan uses any sort of scale, but for those of you from the U.S. Chaba is the equivalent of a category 4 Hurricane.

Look at her (him?), it definitely warrants respect:



Like anything else, the anticipation is better than the act itself, and the anticipation surrounding a typhoon has the same sort of magic as the anticipation surrounding a possible snow day. Maybe it’s even better than a snow day because the anticipation for a typhoon can be dragged out for days as it spins and meanders across the ocean.

I, like most others, was hoping for the typhoon’s fury on Friday, thereby creating a 3 day weekend, but when I woke up to what sounded like my hood over the stove being annoyingly and non-rhythmically hammered on, I knew the day had arrived.

I was immediately wide awake as a million typhoon-related thoughts and plans raced through my mind, severely complicated by the fact that I don’t have a cell phone. First was, ‘OK, is this bad enough for them to cancel school (Yes)?’ then, ‘OK how do I make sure it’s cancelled before I just don’t show up?’ This was a little complicated due to the lack of cell phone, so I decided it was safest if I just got ready and went to work.

I had no idea what I was up against. It took exactly 2 and a half seconds for my umbrella to not only be turned inside out, but completely destroyed. So I wasn’t fucking around when I went to catch a cab. Having arrived at school I was shocked when I was told that there would be classes, as the ‘Official’ warning from the Prefecture had not been given. So Japanese. So I got through one class and 5 minutes into another when it became ‘Official’.

A major typhoon doesn’t just spring up out of nowhere, I’m pretty sure we all had plenty of warning, why not save everyone the trouble and cancel school before it begins, as we all know damn well when the typhoon will be making landfall? Because this is Japan and that wouldn’t be the ‘Right’ way to do it. That’s why.

So I was driven home by a teacher, and while I won’t say I was scared, it was one of maybe two times I’ve been nervous while in a car. Just because the wind was incredible and driving down tree-lined streets seemed like we were begging for a ‘Final Destination’ type ending to our lives.

By the time we got to my apartment it was an honest struggle to not fall over because of the wind.

Then I discovered I conveniently have nothing to eat. So I’ve spent the time cleaning and waiting for the wind to die down to levels where the odds of getting impaled by flying objects are less than 95%.

Pop Culture Tuesdays XV

I don’t particularly care for subject of this week’s post, but to do a series on Japanese Pop Culture and not mention them would be a serious oversight. Possibly bordering on the criminal.

I’m talking about the subject of every Otaku’s Saturday-night masturbation sessions…

AKB48!

They’re kitschy and tacky to be sure, but they also annoy the everliving shit out of me, and I just can’t like them.

Or maybe I don’t like them because they so shamelessly whore themselves for their target audience. Yet, because I’m human and have the capacity to hold contradictory feelings at the same time, I also respect the fact that they are so transparently devoted to attracting and keeping their fan base.

First some background information, then let’s take a look at what I’m talking about (All information is lifted from Wikipedia, because I know next to nothing, and want to know nothing, about this group.).

So AKB48 stands for Akihabara (the Tokyo Otaku district where their theatre, and fan base, are located) and the 48 stands for the 48 members of the group. The group is divided into three teams (A, K, and B…clever!) of girl-nextdoorsy Japanese women (though ‘girls’ is probably more accurate than women, as most are even younger than me). In their theatre they have their show everyday of the week and several times on the weekend.

If the shows are anything like the music videos it’s pretty much all about creating incredible amounts of sexual tension while faking innocence and pretending nothing’s going on. With some shitty, Disney-esque song playing at the same time.

Actually, that’s a pretty accurate description. AKB48: Like “High School Musical” but with lots of fanservice and thinly veiled sexuality!

Let’s have a look!





It’s so not my thing, but they’ve got their shtick down so well I can completely see how some people could find this hot, and are totally on the edge of their seats shouting at the computer “Kiss! Do it!!” (I admit the girl in the Sexy Cat Costume playing with the chandelier got me as close as I’ll get to liking this.).

But what’s with the one with short hair?? I guess it’s for the guys who are into that, but seriously, short hair on Japanese women is only for female members of the Diet.

And you totally know that after their 19th show on Saturday they’re herded back into their 48 stackable, pet-shop-style kennels and given dinner with those water bottles that hang on the sides of the cage.

It's Not You, It's Me

My dear,

While it is certainly true that things go infinitely more smoothly with you, that doesn’t nearly make up for your serious flaws. And while it’s also true that I’ve seriously almost walked out of the room because of how difficult my new lover can be, these instances are the minority and this would never be enough for me to dread seeing them like I dread seeing you.

While I can hear all the experienced (jaded) lovers in the world telling me in unison “Yeah, it’s easy to say that, you’ve been with your exciting lover for a grand total of 3 months, you’re young and idealistic, and you know this is not permanent. Try doing it for 30 years and see how it wears on you.”

Maybe that’s a valid point. I’ll never know.

What I do know is that you are cold and lifeless, you have no personality (or are too well-behaved/conditioned to show it), your friends are oblivious and have seriously misplaced priorities, and every meeting with you is generally predictable and unstimulating. I’m generally disinterested and detached when I’m with you, because there’s no room for anything else; it seems completely inappropriate to have a personality or joke around when no one else is doing it.

My new lover is full of personality, quirks, and life. Everything about them is much more genuine and sincere. New Lover’s friends are much less inhibited, way more down to earth, and, in short, everything is much more real.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not Romanticizing New Lover (well, maybe a little). There are definitely serious flaws, and there is also a quite a bit of sadness, but this only adds to the ‘realness’, and honestly, makes the whole experience much more grounded, healthy, and satisfying. And despite the fact that there are often some communication difficulties, I feel like the interactions are much more fulfilling than anything I could ever have with you.

And for all of New Lover’s flaws, I’ve yet to be bored with them. I can’t stand to be bored, and I’m not only bored with your conversations and friends, but I’m bored with you. Bored with the atmosphere, and bored with your lack of enthusiasm and life.

I want to connect with you, but it’s not happening; you just won’t let me.

My dear, Academic School, as you may have suspected by now, I’m breaking up with you. I’ve found someone better. Someone with a personality. Someone who doesn’t bore me to tears. Yes, my new lover Technical High School can be difficult at times, but I prefer difficulty over total lifelessness. Though we have to continue to see each other, let’s keep up the façade, purely for the sake of professionalism, OK?


Sayonara,

Yours Truly


P.S. You left a pair of shoes and your toothbrush here. If you want to pick them up, they’ll be with the doorman.

Pop Culture Tuesdays XIV

Oh man, where to begin with this one?

This video is such a crash course in Japanese culture and Japanese/Foreigner relations.

Seriously, there are some really profound things going on in this video. Really. I promise. I’m not just posting it for the drag.

For the typical Westerner, one might watch this video and go, “Oh those tacky and crazy Japanese, does their self-degradation-for-a-cheap-laugh know no bounds?”

Yet, this video is making fun exactly of that uniformed Westerner.

First, in case you missed it, the singers are in drag. The group is supposed to be a mother and her two daughters from Nevada who are trying to make it big as a singing group (as a side adventure, they’re also looking for their long-lost father). Just the costumes are telling; in this family unit from America you have the slutty Mom with a giant chest and huge ass, the daughter with blonde hair, and the other daughter with the Afro (and it’s interesting that the one character with distinctly African-American features is also portrayed as the most masculine). Because, you know, that’s American.

So they come to Japan and the song is basically about how they make total asses of themselves (and by obvious extrapolation, is meant to portray all Westerners) and put themselves permanently on the outside of Japanese culture.

The video strikes me as a great primer on the essential Japanese phenomenon of Honne/Tatemae (You're a big kid, you can Wikipedia it on your own if you need to.)

Although I like the video, and I definitely think it’s clever, as a foreigner in Japan it obviously makes me a little uneasy and possibly paranoid. I watch this video knowing full well that Japanese watch it and have a good laugh at the ignorant Westerner’s expense, agreeing among themselves that “It’s so true!”.

Yet, it may also be that the video is a parody of Japanese cultural phenomenon as well. I don’t know, it could probably be argued either way.

There’s definitely a lot of good-natured fun, and it is really smart, but it seems that there’s something also a little passive-aggressive and more critical right below the good natured fun…

It’s so Japanese!

A Tale of Two Schools (Part Two)

(This is a continuation of the last post, so you might want to read it to get a fuller picture. Or don’t; each also works on its own. Consider this a stand-alone-sequel post.)

For whatever reason, my supervisor (at the high academic high school) is fascinated by the wealth gap in America. He also likes to claim, much to my visible and vocal disgust (or at least as visible/vocal as one can get to a superior in Japan), that Japan does not have such a wealth gap.

I would like him to explain my technical high school to me then. Tell me about the high school literally in the shadow of a raised six lane highway and deafening recycling plant. Explain the school full of students who have been written off, a school where even the ones who know about, want, and can achieve something better are denied because of circumstances they didn’t ask to be born into.

Admittedly, not every student at this school looks up at me with giant deer-like eyes that silently wonder what they did to get so fucked by the world. Most are blissfully ignorant and don’t know or care about anything better.

But for the ones, like the student from the last post, who are willing to work for something better but are so concretely denied by a wealth gap that allegedly ‘doesn’t exist’, it is unbearably sad.

So many of the kids are so visibly poor I don’t even want to imagine their lives outside of school. And then there’s the ones who try so desperately to hide it but can’t. You know, the kids who have that one gaudy, highly visible designer thing that they cling to like it keeps them alive. It’s usually a Louis Vuitton wallet that’s always in plain sight, but it just doesn’t fit with the rest of their appearance. These kids are saddest because they clearly know where they stand in society, and need to buy these things they so clearly can’t afford as a sort of public denial of their poverty.

It would be so easy for me if the kids were fundamentally bad kids, then I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about them and wouldn’t have so many complex feelings for them. But they’re not, and it’s so painful when I see kids whose goddamn shoes are barely being held together, kids who are clearly going through things I could never imagine, somehow still give effort in totally irrelevant English class or become visibly frustrated when they want to tell me about something, but just can’t break the communication barrier.

So, to those like my oblivious assclown of a supervisor who claim the wealth gap is virtually non-existent in Japan, I encourage you to walk with me from the high school to the bus stop. Walk from the school, next to the recycling plant, walk down the street lined with factories that reek of paint, past the homeless guy under the highway, and stand with me as I and the students who legitimately want a future but are denied one wait for the bus.

Then tell me there is no wealth gap in Japan.

(Sorry for the somewhat heavy posts, but sometimes it's important to remember that life is real, and not just made of shiny pretty-boys in eye shadow or tacky commecials.)

A Tale of Two Schools

You see, I have two high schools I teach at. My base school is a fairly decent high school; the kids are well-behaved, most seem to be middle-class, and almost all are smart and/or fairly self-motivated.

The other school is honestly one of the worst schools in Okinawa, and I’ve actually gotten pity-laughs from cab drivers when they ask me where I work. (Fucking cab drivers pity me!) The students here are generally absolutely awful, and have seriously dim futures.

Yet they are my favorites. I so desperately want them to defy the odds, but I can’t help but be Cold Sociology Major and know that, by this point, their futures are effectively set. They’re my little runts of the litter; I want to kick the other fat puppies away from the food bowl and push them towards it. But they won’t go because they’ve been trained to believe that the food is only for the already-healthy dogs.

The high school definitely has a depressing air of resignation about it. And sometimes I’d seriously rather high-dive onto a bed of nails than teach class. Yet these same disruptive bastards who I want to throw out the nearest window during class end up trying to talk with me when they see me walking or waiting for the bus (and they’re always cheerful and adorably humble). Because they’ve been trained to know that doing well in front of others or liking class is only for losers, of course.

These two schools are seriously a SOCI 101 case study on the effects of class and children’s chances for success.

Anyway, the point was brought home hard today when I was grading tests (Look at me grading shit! Like a real adult/teacher!). Most of the students absolutely failed the shit out of this test, not because it was hard at all, but because they simply don’t care, and honestly, I can’t blame them, English has, and will have, no relevance to their lives.

But one student tries so hard, speaks relatively amazing English, and according to the other teachers is generally a really good student. He was seriously the one student who I had money on to beat back that bitch society and her totally arbitrary and cruel circumstances.

So I showed his homeroom teacher his test when I was finished and asked what his plans were after graduation. She said, ‘Well, he wanted to go to university (which is a huge deal for students at this school, where most simply want to find a permanent job after graduation), but you know…his family situation…his parents can’t afford to help with university.’ It was here that one of us began to get glassy-eyed, I’m not sure who it happened to first, but it definitely caused a chain reaction in the other person. So she continued ‘So, he is trying to find a job after graduation, hoping to save enough money, and then go to university.’

But let’s be honest, he’s not going. By the time he does save the money he will be too established in whatever he’s doing, and won’t want to sacrifice his income for the mere possibility of more money later on.

Where is the justice? This kid is just as smart as the kids at my academic high school, and I would say more motivated because of the environment he deals with on a daily basis, yet life and its social circumstances have completely fucked him.

In college I read countless articles and statistics on the effect of parent’s wealth, education, etc on children’s education, future wealth, etc. And while it sounds cliché, I really did forget that these surveys that provided the statistics are surveying real people, like this kid, who get fucked through absolutely no fault of their own. You forget that giant macro studies (and the giant, macro, misguided policies that attempt to solve the situation) end with real individuals.

And while you could certainly point to the few random people who have ‘overcome it all’ and made it big after coming from similar situations, those people are anomalies. People also like to say ‘Well, forget about social circumstances, if a person really wants to succeed, he will do anything to do it. People just use social circumstances as a crutch.’

Yeah? What about this kid?

Pop Culture Tuesdays XIII

No explanation this week; the man's awesome-ness speaks for itself.

I was lucky/random enough to get an autograph and some calligraphy from him (Maybe a picture next week?).

How much do I value that calligraphy you ask?

Well, if I had to choose between selling it or selling my grandmother into a prostitution cartel...well...I can't make any promises on what I would choose.

Failing At...

Garbage!

Here’s one I know I’m not alone in. If you’re a foreigner in Japan, you’ve failed at this at least once. Or possibly on a weekly basis.

Learning how to do the garbage routine in Japan is a definite Baptism by Fire scenario.

I think I saw the schedule and garbage separation requirements and nearly shit myself. Mother of Christ, the involvement that Japan demands of its citizens!

Let me digress and explain this garbage schedule, for the uninitiated reader. First and most importantly you separate burnables from non-burnables. Though, this really makes no sense to me, I mean won’t anything burn if the temperature is hot enough? Then of course there is the recyclables. But these are further separated as cans or PET bottles (caps and labels off!!). Then the cardboard, and paper. Then the cloth. Whatever. You get the idea.

But I studied it. I had a teacher call to confirm what days certain garbage goes out. I was going to be that one foreigner who doesn’t have his garbage left sitting at the curb.

So garbage day came along and I put my bags out with a smug smile and nod of my head to my landlord. “You watch, this bag won’t be there when they pick up the trash today. This bag is getting fuckin’ taken!”

Ohh the Hubris!

Sure enough, I get back to my apartment to discover my bags sitting just where I left them. I may have collapsed to my knees and shook my fists at the sky as I shouted

ffffFFFFFUUUUUCCCKKK!

I don’t think I wanted anything more than to get it right my first time. Dejected and head hung low, I did the foreigner walk of shame and took my garbage back to my apartment. Where it sat and made my apartment reek until the next collection day.

My fault, if you must know, was buying the wrong type of bag. I bought just a regular clear bag, while the correct bags have the Okinawa Prefectural label on it, and have this guy on it:




“Hi I’m cuddly lil’ garbage flame, and I burn shit!”

Pop Culture Tuesdays XII

Continuing right along with the theme of sex bomb hair…

This week we’re taking a trip through trashy fashion magazine Men’s Egg!

Because this is my thing, I have religiously bought each of the latest issues since I’ve been here.

I’m usually pretty good at drawing analogies between U.S and Japanese cultural phenomenon, but the subculture this magazine represents really has no U.S equivalent. Guido subculture in the U.S may be similar, but that’s somewhat of a stretch. And this magazine certainly has no equivalent.

Men’s Egg is like a combination of Maxim, Playboy, and GQ (GQ specific to the Gyaruo subculture).

Though I can’t read 75% of it, I can gather the gist from what I am able to read, and the stupidity of it is certainly not lost on me. About a third of the magazine is snaps of street fashion, a third is the magazine’s models showing clothing from various Gyaruo brands, and a third is articles or surveys about sex advice or what women/men most want.

And let us not forget the unbelievable fuck-ton of ads. Need hair removal products? Need a bigger penis? Need a Gyaruo-style wig (Seriously.)? Umm, fuck yes I do! (To the last one. Or maybe all of the above?):

Even through my piss-poor Japanese ability I know enough to know that the surveys especially are a total joke. It seems like half the time they’re just surveying the staff room or whoever they catch in the elevator; there’s no method to their surveying, and I wonder how much is meant to be taken seriously. I hope none, but something tells me they mean it to be serious. In general it seems like each issue is put together the night before.

But no matter, I’m not reading looking for the offspring of the New Yorker and Harper’s Bazaar. Though I feel like the asshats involved with this magazine think that’s what they put together every month.

OK, bashing aside, let’s take a look inside shall we!

Some street fashion snaps (You know the drill, click for larger/better):

(Did you click for larger?? You know you want to see that fashion victim with the orange vest in HD...)

And no Gyaruo wardrobe is complete without the Man-Purse. Exactly what-the-fuck could a guy be carrying around that is so important that he needs to trade in his balls for this never-cool, never-OK fashion crime??

Christ! Don't think too much about it! Don't you know thinking ruins your complexion!?! Let Men's Egg answer this highly important and relevant question:

And in this issue we have enlightening interviews with some of the Men's Egg models:

This particular model had quite the colorful prior work experience. I won’t say what, but think of the obvious thing, then make it more deviant. How do I know that you ask? Well, I didn’t read about it in this article, that’s for sure.

And there we have it. Men’s Egg: Class and a half.

Ruby Morena

Even before I came to Japan I was looking forward to the notorious Teacher’s Party. Opinions on this seem to be extreme: People either absolutely love them or they look forward to them like they look forward to a kick to the face. I knew I was going to get to experience one, maybe two, of these so I had damn well better make the most of it, language barrier or not.

So we recently had our Teacher’s Party, and I’m certain I made the most of it. (This is going to be a fairly long post, so just to let you know.)

Part of the fun/anxiety of a Teacher’s Party (for a foreigner) is watching/participating in the egregious amount of rituals, ass-kissing, and empty gestures. Luckily, I was briefed on what to expect beforehand, so I think I was ready.

The first thing I noticed was the insanity surrounding the toast. I’m not a fan of the toast—it strikes me as too dramatic and contrived, and should really only be reserved for weddings. However it was funny watching each person as they walk in, go to the bar and get a drink, then immediately dash to the principal and vice-principal to toast them. In the beginning, the important people were seated at the front in a row of chairs (no table) just accepting toasts—in a scene not at all unlike a royal court.

And, because this is Japan, the toast itself also has a very definite ‘Right Way’. If toasting the principal: hold the glass with two hands, say “Thanks for your hard work” (In Japanese obviously), bow while toasting, and make sure the glasses are not even. The lip of the mortal’s glass was usually well below halfway down on the principal’s glass. Follow this procedure for anyone who is more important than you (which for me is just about anyone).

Things tend to get a little outrageous when the hierarchy is more ambiguous, and the two people end up damn near the ground in a fetal position trying to get lower than the other person’s glass. My first few toasts I did this then I said ‘Fuck it’ and just bowed and held my glass out. And I definitely got a little pleasure when the person’s glass was lower than mine. By the end of the night I became super conscious of the toasting situation and who really tried to get lower than me, who clearly expected my glass to be lower, etc. Besides the Royal Court, the only people who I made sure to get lower than were people I really liked. So, it may sound crazy but there’s really a lot involved in toasting, and like most interactions in Japan, actions speak louder than words.

Thankfully things got much looser as the night wore on and people got liquored up. And as we all know, Japanese people tend to speak English miraculously better when they’re drunk, so my Japanese ability was rarely tested unless I wanted it to be. The party itself was generally uneventful—at first there was the mingling, then people grouped off, then it became like a comedy variety show as different teachers performed, sang, etc. The whole thing lasted maybe three hours and then the real parties began…

It was time for Nijikai (2nd party)!!!

We ended up at a pretty amazing izakaya. I’m a fan of the izakaya as it is, but this place really was pure sex. It had the layout and idea of a traditional large izakaya, but it was ultra modern: Instead of paper screens dividing the rooms, it was sliding mirrors (which led to a real mindfuck when you are trying to drunkenly get to the bathroom), instead of the warm yellow lighting there was cool blue and purple lighting, and of course no tatami, just white leather benches and tables. It was extremely modern and airy, yet still felt really private. Yet despite all of this, you never forgot it was an izakaya (which is good).

So it was here that the real fun was had. While most teachers go to the original party (as it’s basically mandatory), a much smaller number go to the after parties, so those who do go are there because they like to have a good time.

I was never bored and was genuinely surprised by just how much fun some of the teachers are. Somehow language was not a problem and it was such an amazing time.

Some highlights:

Being christened with my new nickname, Ruby Morena (who is apparently a Filipino actress). It was between this or Sony. Sony because when Japanese people say my name part of it sounds like Sony, and Ruby Morena was decided on by shortening my last name to Ruby, then someone drunkenly said “Hey! Like Ruby Morena!!”, and that was that.


Meeting my long-lost ‘Okinawan Parents’: Once a teacher heard my age, he said he could be my father. Then he said what year he was born, and I went “Oh! My mom was born the same year!’ and it caused an izakaya-stopping uproar. Then another teacher said she was born a year later, so it was decided that they were now my Okinawan Parents. Which was of course followed by much toasting.

And of course seeing sides of my coworkers that I never knew existed.

So by 1am the group had thinned to only the most hardcore (and mainly young) teachers. As we stumbled out someone hit me on the shoulder and said, “Third Stage!!” Even I couldn’t believe there was going to be Sanjikai on a Monday night. It was here that the group was narrowed down to the truly insane warriors of maybe 12 people.

It was decided that Sanjikai would be at Karaoke, which meant that it would be the last stop. I asked what time they would expect to wrap it up and I was told “Morning”. So I decided to call it a night. Not only because I would not be taking vacation the next day like most of the others, but also because I knew I would undoubtedly be expected to sing, and I wasn’t comfortable singing in front of the people who were going (not even when I was drunk).

All-in-all, it was a good, loud, drunken time, and one should never underestimate the power of alcohol in breaking barriers of all kinds.