I'm not really looking, but thanks anyway

Maybe I'm feeling a bit touchy lately--could be the varying degrees of PMS I've been suffering from since landing here--but I just don't understand why people from back home tell me that they hope that I find whatever it is that I'm looking for... What does that mean? Just because I've uprooted my life and decided to move across the globe means that I'm looking for something? I was stuck in a dead end job where I was treated like complete shit. Less than shit, actually. I think, now that I've had a bit of distance [both figuratively and literally], that I was living some kind of sick existence that was the stuff of Dickens. I was being harassed at a fairly constant rate [especially towards the end] by someone who, in a perfect world, would have no desire to even think twice about me. I was expected to bend over backwards for a bunch of men that would just as soon yell at me and tell me how stupid I was as shoot something resembling a smile in my direction. Yes, my love life was great. Yes, my financial life was great. Yes, I was building equity. [technically, I'm still building equity] But my professional life was such total shit that it clouded everything else. Did I need to run away to Japan in order to see the good? No. Did I need to run away at all? Nope. Did I run away? Don't think so. However, when one is offered a chance at an experience like this, one would have to be a jackass to decline. Although the locals here probably don't think so, I'm usually not a jackass...

And what kind of comment is that anyway? "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for,"? Am I reading the wrong tone into it? I could be wrong, but that seems like an incredibly bitchy thing to say. When I hear that [or read that, as the case may be], it seems sarcastic. It seems like something that I would say to someone that I was either angry at, or didn't like, or wished harm upon. Am I wrong here?

Granted, maybe I'm only putting that tone into it because the first person who said it to me was an angry, spiteful little man who said it with that exact tone.

So, in response to those who hope I find what I'm looking for, whether you mean it or not, thank you very much. I'm not quite sure if I'm looking for anything, but should I find it, I'll let you know.

[in all fairness, the second person who said this to me probably didn't mean it like that at all. J., I apologize for the rant. Your comment just reminded me of said spiteful little man... Sumimasen!]

How should I use my gaijin powers?

Every time I open my mouth around Japanese people I make an ass of myself.  I've been trying so hard to blend in with my surroundings and I just don:t seem to be able to do it.  I think trying to blend in with the Japanese people is only going to cause me more stress, depression, performance anxiety, and the like. 

I need to just embrace the fact that I'm a gaijin!  Yes, there are people in the street staring at me and whispering, "Gaijin," under their breath in my general direction.  Yes, there are people who stare at me on the train and probably wonder what the hell I'm doing here.  Yes, I use the incredibly formal and polite usage of, "Thank you very much," when receiving change from people in the Quickie Mart.  Yes, I trip down stairs because I keep forgetting that little half stair that doesn't seem to make much sense.  I'm going to stand out no matter what I do... 

Now the question is, How should I stand out?  How should I use my powers as an outsider? 

Another opportunity to make an ass of myself? Don't mind if I do!

Yesterday was my first day of actually teaching. Granted, the departing teacher was still there in the room supervising, but he was pretty much worthless and wouldn't even participate in the group. I think I actually did a pretty good job. A fantastic job considering it was my first day teaching anything ever. One of my students told my manager that I sounded like the lady on the language CD and/or a DJ. [there's a bit of a language barrier between my manager and me so I'm not really sure if she meant both or just thought of a better way to say it...] I came home so happy last night. For the first time since I got here I actually started to think that I could do this.

Then today happened...

I think I've got putting together the actual lesson plans down. There's no real problem there. I know the order to teach the different sections, too. The fact that I don't seem to be able to make it through all of the different sections is another matter and apparently of no real concern. [at least not yet] My problem seems to be that I don't really set up the situations very well. I'm not sure if it's because I'm not sure how to set them up, or I'm not sure how to set them up in a way that the students understand, or I'm not entirely sure of the situation itself. Whatever the reason, when I give the students a situation, or a role to play in the situation, unless they're higher level students, they just seem to sit there and stare at me. Looking back at a room of blank faces makes me freak out just a little bit. When I start to freak out, not only do I start to talk faster and use way too many words--half of which they probably don't understand--but I start to forget what the hell the point of it all is. What was the situation I was trying to get these people to role-play? Why am I standing here in front of these people? What exactly do I want them to do? And what the fuck am I trying to teach them again?!

That cycle repeated itself all day long.

The powers that be at the school don't seem concerned about this. It's only my second day, after all. Although the thought did cross my mind, I'm sure their efforts at reassuring me aren't just Japanese modesty talking. It IS only my second day. No one [but myself] expects me to be a perfect teacher right out of the gate.

So after beating myself up all the way home on the train internally--externally I was retelling a Bill Mahr joke concerning John Kerry and his wife--I decided to stop in the grocery store to buy shit that I don't really need right now, such as mini cup cakes. [which, incidentally, have a very strange taste that I can't quite place... It's not necessarily a good taste, yet not really a bad taste either. However, the taste for damn sure doesn't belong in a cup cake.] It seems that every time I have any kind of interaction with Japanese people I make a complete ass of myself. It wasn't until I got to the check out and started to see the amount of my purchase rise higher and higher that I realized that I just didn't have that kind of money on me. I had to try to get the cashier to throw some items of food back. She looked at me like no one had ever asked her to do that before. Granted, maybe she was looking at me like that because I was pointing in the general direction of the basket and saying, "No, no, not that. Sorry. I don't want that," instead of saying anything at all in Japanese. [which is probably a good thing, since my Japanese vocabulary consists of a very polite way to say, "Thank you very much," and, "goodbye," and the numbers one, two and another one that sounds like banana--I forget which number that one is, though...] Of course, the sensible food items got thrown back, i.e. the rice. [which cost $12 for some reason!] The questionable mini cup cakes made it home with me. Just as well, really. I still don't know how to work the rice cooker.

Safety in numbers

Yesterday I met up with two friends from training and wandered around the Shinjuku area of Tokyo. [For those who don't know, that's one of the sections of Tokyo with all the neon and pachinko parlors and people on top of people that was in Lost in Translation.] I wouldn't go so far as to say that I've conquered the subway system, but I did get where I wanted to go and only got on the wrong train once. Granted, I only needed to change trains once... But it was leaving and everyone was running and I got caught up. [it didn't take long for me to join the group mentality...]

We tried to get cell phones, but it proved way too difficult. It wasn't just the language barrier, either. We found one brochure that was in English, but it didn't make much sense. It's funny how even when you can find things written in English, they usually still don't make sense. Then again, I think it was kind of hard for me to chose a cell phone plan at home, too. Come to think of it, it's pretty hard for me to chose anything...

We ate at a Udon Restaurant [those thick, white noodles that look like worms] and they had so much food that didn't have meat/seafood in it that I bought enough to feed three people! Whenever I find a place where there is food that I can eat I always buy too much. I ended up getting a bowl of udon w/ scallions, some tofu w/ scallions, two wild rice balls [or was that seaweed?], a piece of sweet potato tempura and a veggie tempura pancake. [This compared to their bowls of udon and one piece of tempura each.]

Now here's my main problem: I have no idea how to ask if there is meat in anything, much less to even ask what something is. A lot of this food is very hard to distinguish. God knows what they've put in the stuff. So I think there's going to be a lot of toast in my diet. [well, as soon as I get a toaster] And as soon as I figure out how to use my rice cooker, a lot of rice.

Jen vs. the washing machine

It has been confirmed. I am a lazy [read: asshole] American.

I've moved into my apartment--which, by all respects, is very nice. I slept reasonably well last night, considering the noises the AC was making and the fact that the sheets didn't fit the bed and barely covered me. This morning my gigantic piece of luggage arrived via courier--they'll carry anything for you in this country! It was actually kind of fun unpacking the monster luggage because I had forgotten that I had packed half that shit. I was so excited when I found not one, but two tank tops!

The manager at my school ran through the instructions of the washing machine yesterday, but I wasn't paying as much attention as I probably should have been, especially considering that the knobs are labeled in kanji. This morning, the only thing I remembered was that the knob with the numbers controls the time and the slide knob in the middle was to be ignored.

My washing machine was not designed with the lazy American in mind. First you've got to actually turn on the water and wait for the level to raise enough to cover the clothes. This took an incredibly long amount of time as the water was basically just trickling into the machine. I found out that it's best to wait for the machine to be full of water before you turn on the timer because it's probably not very good for the clothes to be batted around by the paddle when they're basically dry.

After the time had run, I opened the machine [whose top just comes right off because it's got nothing but gravity keeping it on] and had to fiddle with the other knobs to figure out how to drain the water. Once the water is drained, you've got to put the sopping wet clothes into the other side, which does the spin cycle. During the spin cycle the entire machine jumped and lunged forward and made godawful noises. I didn't think much of this, and just figured that the reason that the machine is sitting in a plastic tray with sides is so that it doesn't jump all over the kitchen and knock something over. I kept thinking of the washer races I had seen somewhere on TV...

For some reason, and I'm going to blame it on the fact that I was doing this very early in the morning, it didn't occur to me until it had finished the spin cycle that I was just spinning the soapy clothes and not rinsing them off. The manager made absolutely no mention of this little bit of helpful advice.

Once I started ignoring the manager's advice and just hitting whatever button I thought looked good at the time, including the slide knob in the middle [which, it turns out, controls which part of the machine the water goes into], the laundry went really well. Important lesson of the day: Ignore Japanese instructions.

I have arrived!

I made it across the country and across the sea... Unfortunately, I have yet to find a place where I can get my computer to work, so the posts that I:ve been working on cannot be posted yet. All in due time.

More to follow (when I can actually use a keyboard that will not start typing in Japanese for no apparent reason).

Garbage trucks and karaoke

First things first... I think maybe I was high when I decided to come here. I'm not a teacher. I don't know the first thing about getting other people excited about something that I'm just not excited about. That's what The Company expects of us. And rightfully so. There are English language schools all over! I haven't seen enough of Tokyo yet to even warrant using a percentage, but I've seen at least six different schools already. English is big business here.

I think it's important to note that the first thing that I saw upon arrival in Japan, at least the first thing I took notice of, was while I was working my way towards customs in the airport. I was looking out the window onto the tarmac and saw what looked like a garbage truck speeding by. On the side of the garbage truck it said, "Friendly Airport Limousine." What should one think of a country that uses garbage trucks as limos and calls them, "Friendly?"

It's my second night in Japan. We, being myself and about nine of the other people in the training class, went to a restaurant/karaoke bar. Sadly, I'm not going to be able to remain vegetarian. They ordered a salad for me--which, let it be known, I didn't want--and when it came it was covered in shrimp, octopus and various pieces of unknown sea creatures. I picked all the seafood off--with my chopsticks, and I wasn't even drunk!--and tried a piece of lettuce, only to have to stop myself from spitting it out immediately because of the horrid fish taste. I had a piece of sushi and wasn't impressed with it at all. In fact, I had the same reaction to that as I did to the salad.

So I guess the highlight of the night, other than singing, "Hotel California," was that I ate my first omelette with chopsticks. So my original fears about starving while here might just come true, except that it will be because I can't eat any of the food, not because I can't use chopsticks. Which brings me back to the sad fact that I'm just not going to be able to remain vegetarian. Or eat out anywhere.

It has come to my attention--once again--that I'm just not very good with foreign languages. Really, it's a wonder I can speak even one language. We had our first Japanese lesson today, and I have no idea what the hell that lady was saying. I don't know what I was trying to say or what the person was saying back to me, but I think it had something to do with sushi. I only know that because for part of it we had to put on a jerry-rigged paper sushi hat.

So this jet lag thing... I don't know if it's jet lag or what, but there has been something dreadfully wrong with my eyes since about half way through the flight here. This morning when I got up my eyes were all bloodshot and I could barely see. It was like that all day. They don't sell eye drops at the convenience store up the street, so I had to wait until I got back towards the train station to stop in a pharmacy of sorts. I say, "of sorts," because it was really more like a kiosk than any pharmacy I've ever seen. It was at the corner of a busy intersection, right outside the train station, and the isles, which spilled out on the sidewalk, were packed with both people and miscellaneous pharmacy-type items. Unfortunately for me, everything is written in kanji, which made it incredibly difficult to find the eyedrops. Thankfully there was someone from the group who knew enough Japanese to speak to one of the clerks who then pointed me in the right direction. When I got the eyedrops into my eyes, it was all I could do to not scream out in pain. It felt like I was putting peppermint oil into my eyes!

So I'm not sure what I think of this mythical land of neon yet. It's so horribly humid here that it makes Florida seem like nothing. The mosquitos are really slow here, too. They're so easy to kill when they're slow. There are vending machines everywhere that sell various drinks, cigarettes [no Marlboro Ultra Lights, though], and beer. I haven't found any used underwear vending machines yet, but I'm keeping my eyes open for one. It costs more money to get a Coke than to get a beer, and much to my dismay, Coke tastes too much like Pepsi. Although I did get a 20oz. Coke at the Quickie Mart today and it came with a Minnie Mouse handkerchief, which I won't mind using in this heat--despite the Rat. The streets are all the size of one-ways, even though they're not, and the cars are so incredibly cute that I'm finding it hard not to gush over all of them.

Can you think of the last time you were able to get close enough to touch a fly? Normally those little bastards are so quick that you can't get anywhere near them. There's a fly buzzing around me right now. It was in my hair and when I put my hand up there to brush it out, it just stayed there. I touched it. Twice. Then it went into my Coke. I tried blowing it away, but it didn't move. I tried shaking the bottle a little, but it didn't move. Finally I had to stick my finger in the bottle to get the damn thing to leave. Is there any reasonable explanation for why the bugs move so damn slow here?? Are Shintos not allowed to kill bugs and somehow the bugs know it?

It begins...

I'm flying over Anchorage, nearing the international date line [or so says the awful map that United Airlines provides every now and again].

Here's how my adventure has gone so far... I woke up crying and pretty much cried all the way to Chicago. Once I got into Chicago, I almost missed the flight to Tokyo because I haven't seemed to master the art of moving people with my mind. [Any day now!] Airports are busy--as a rule--and usually people are in somewhat of a hurry when they're there. So why is it that there are always those people that just wander around, zig zagging from one side of the walkway to the other, always right in front of you? So there I am, 15 minutes until the plane is scheduled to leave, trying to get around these fools when I hear the announcement, "Final call for Flight 881 to Tokyo." That's when the yelling started. "Move to the left! Excuse me! Outta the way!" After I ran for what felt like 20 miles--and dropped my ticket on the people mover and had to run back to get it--I saw the sign for the gate, and then heard my name over the intercom. I tried to yell at the guy at the gate who had just said my name, but my throat was closing, and my cottonmouth was so bad that no words would form. Thankfully, he saw me waving my free hand around like a mad thing and probably recognized the desperate and wild look in my eyes as that of a person who is terrified of being stranded when expected elsewhere.

When I got on the plane, the stewardess gave me water at the door and tried to get me to talk. Unfortunately, it took me a good five minutes to calm down enough to be able to do anything at all... I guess one of the good things that will come out of this trip is that I'll be in better shape upon my return. [Well, I can hope.]

While in the bathroom, hours later, it occurred to me that I'm probably insane. I have left behind the most wonderful man, and for what? Christ. Have I made a mistake?

Yeah, the cats...

Today my cats and I parted ways. My truly wonderful friend S. [& her partner in crime, S.] took them off my hands. Of all the things that I need to get done before I leave, I sincerely didn't think much of giving the cats away to their new owners. That is until it was time to do it.

In preparation, I cleaned the shitbox, the tent that covers the shitbox [necessary, of course, in order to provide my feline companions their much needed privacy], and the transportation device, i.e. the kitty cage. When the cleaning was finished, I was drenched with sweat, covered in what I assumed to be a fair amount of tiny flecks of cat shit, and really starting to feel hungover from the night before.

S. and S. showed up and the transfer began. I think in explaining the role I play in the lives of my cats I came out looking like a terrible pet owner. More of a warden, really, than a loving, caring mother-type. For the most part, I would say that this is true. I am not the loving, caring mother-type when it comes to my cats. They annoy me, aggravate me, and make me sneeze and itch. However, when the Shits McGee got into the box and I walked the box out to the car, I was truly shocked to find that it was all I could do to not start crying hysterically. When I picked up Nigel to put him into his box, he gave me a familiar hug and licked my shoulder. Again, all I could do to not start weeping.

After the cats were gone, and after I had calmed down, I started thinking that I was a horrible, selfish person for not only owning cats who I ignore, but for taking a job that requires that I give said cats to friends so I can romp around the world. That feeling turned into a feeling of utter dread regarding this decision to move to Japan. I keep telling myself [and others] that it will be fine, that I'm making the right decision, that everything is great, but what if I'm wrong?

The cats have been gone for about four hours, and I don't feel any better. Maybe it's all the crying, but I feel incredibly empty. When they're here, I take them for granted, push them away when they want attention because they make me itch, and sometimes forget to feed them. Now that they're gone, I miss them terribly. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that when it comes to my cats, I'm just like every ex-boyfriend I've ever had.

How could we make this more difficult?

God knows I hate to bitch about anything, but I'm scheduled to leave this fair country in 9 days, and I have yet to get the Certificate of Eligibility for my visa. The Company--as it will be referred to from here on out--assures me that this is no problem. I don't see how this could be viewed as, "No problem." Assuming that I have anything resembling a grasp on the workings of emigration, it seems clear that I need to have a visa in order to live and work in another country. They assure me that I should have the Certificate of Eligibility in hand by this Friday, at which point I have to call them to let them know that I got it. Then on Monday I've got to hightail it down to Miami to make a visit to the Japanese Consulate to drop off the CoE [as it's referred to in the business] and then proceed to wait around two days for them to just put a stamp in my passport. This puts me in Miami from Monday until Wednesday. My flight leaves Thursday...

When I asked the Company what the worst case scenario would be if, say, it took the Consulate more than the expected two days to stamp my passport, they told me that I would have to just change my ticket for the next day. Change my ticket? The ticket is NON-REFUNDABLE! [see previous post] I've already called the company once in a panic because I couldn't find my itinerary on their website [and I fear I really offended a man who was calling himself "Steve," although I'm not too sure how popular the name "Steve" is in India]. I can't call them again and try to sweet talk them into changing my departure date without getting charged out the wazoo. [I don't believe that those customer service reps don't make little comments in the files about the nasty customers. I worked in customer service, and believe me, I left comments all over the place!]

So instead of having 8 days to get out of my house, I now have 4. That's nothing. That's no time. Right now I feel like I could sleep for 4 days. I'm really quite stressed about it. But am I packing right now? No. I'm bitching... How unlike me.

It's over...

My four year working experiment in the law firm of procrastination is finished. It actually kind of went out with a whimper, as opposed to the bang I had expected. There were no unwanted [and unwarranted] pop ins by exes, no very last minute, "Do this! Do it right now!" orders, and no cake. There was only momentary sadness when one attorney told me that I could call her collect from Tokyo if I needed anything at all and when one of the partners hugged me and told me that he loved me... [However, this was the same partner of legendary drunken Christmas party fame, so the sentiment must be taken for what it's worth.]

When I left the building I didn't have the overwhelming feeling that a chapter of my life was over, or that I was moving into the future--hurray! There wasn't any maniacal laughter or surges of emotion in any direction. I just walked out. Just like it was another day. The only difference being this: Today was the last day I'll have to drag my ass out of bed to drive to a place that I don't want to be, to try very hard to act like I really care about the work that's being done, to smile and nod when orders are barked at me, and to have to fight the impulse to run from the building screaming my fool head off. Today was the last day. Tomorrow I will wake up and not have to worry about whether that pleading was filed, or that brief has the right page numbers on it, or that phone conference has been scheduled. Tomorrow I can wake up and begin to clear my head of all that bullshit.

Still, though... It amazes me the frequency with which these life changing events [such as the final day of gainful employment] occur without any acknowledgment or fanfare. You wake up, do what needs to be done, and go home without any movie-type realizations or celebrations. Seems a fitting end for a place where the employees are openly compared to the slaves in Gone With The Wind. [And I only wish I was kidding.]