the midnight jogger

You know those times when you're falling asleep, helpless and exhausted, your eyes drooping as the fading threads of your mind weave together a patchwork quilt of half-dreams, and you finally decide it's time to crawl into bed? Into your warm, pillowy bed, where you can let those weary eyelids close, relax every muscle and release your thoughts into a current of unpredictable and captivating dreams always waiting to embrace you on the dark side of your subconscious.

But first, you have to brush your teeth and wash your face, finish transferring the lesson for tomorrow's class onto your USB key, wash the last of the dishes and put them on the rack to dry, turn off the TV, stereo and lights... and when you lie down at last, you realize that the gentle fuzziness enshrouding your brain has been rudely swept away by an undesired second wind.

Balancing constantly on the verge of exhaustion throughout college had dependably subdued these curious energy reserves for the last four years, but now they are creeping back into my nights and pushing me further and further into the early a.m. hours. Despite getting up at half past seven, putting in a full day of work followed by dinner, karate, a few episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and a starlit jog to the school where I'll work tomorrow that landed me home a few minutes ago, I still can't sleep. The time is 3:11am.

I did get a new weekday record of sleep last night (almost nine hours), which made me feel amazingly awake at school today. I think it made me friendlier. Which in turn gave the kids more incentive to talk to me, certainly something I need to encourage. I even got a big hug from one of the 'cool kids', the school soccer star, a powerful leader of children. Hooray! Dear diary, maybe this means I'm popular now. Can I somehow relive my awkward junior high days as the grizzled foreign jock / occasional musician/ cat's cradle master and repair all my insecurities from that transitory time? No, I guess not, but it's nice to notice that many of those insecurities seem to have faded away with time. Along with my hairline. (well, maybe they've just been replaced by different insecurities. but I like to think that relatively mild premature balding has forced me to come to grips with my own mortality at an early age).

Anyway, now the shadowed fingers of sleep are gently brushing the fringes of my thoughts, beckoning seductively toward the dark bedroom. Hopefully now, at last, I can rest.

The challenge? Defeat 9,000 other near-naked men. The prize? Glory.

Check this out.

Though it's description as one of Japan's three oddest festivals may lead you to believe things like this are rare, I came dangerously close to joining a similar-sounding event translated as "Naked man wrestling" up in Fukuoka last month.

Also, please consider the fact that Near-Naked Man Wrestling has been around longer than America has been a country.

saturday

here's what's happened today thus far:

• woke up around 10am, amidst the four others who spent the night last night. something about our circumstances here in the JET community generates frequent sleepovers and the occasional surreal adventure. it's like being back in grade school in a few glorious ways.
  
• cooked up some spaghetti and moved the couch out to the porch to enjoy the sun and one of the first truly spring-like days of the season. listened to the best of Motown while eating, that was a very important element of the experience.
  
• drove to one of Ueki's most beautiful and historic parks, watched the coy swim lazily around the large shallow lake at the bottom of the park, then climbed a long stone staircase to a series of shrines and prayed at each. we continued to hike further along a small trail until we came to a dwelling identified as the Demon's Cave (in Japanese, Spooky translated), which was an ancient stone dwelling burrowed into the side of a hill amid a magical copse of trees. it was created in the sixth century and has remained there since. I had no idea such things were in Ueki.
  
• drove to the onsen we all love and lay in the sun and warm water, rejuvenating our souls.
• stopped and ate some basashi (raw horse meat, kumamoto's famous for it) on the way back.
• skyped with my ol' friend Greg, who's riding the daily grind for all it's worth in Washington D.C. doing what every creative liberal arts graduate should aspire to- selling gourmet chocolates and editing copious amounts of army propaganda footage and the occasional Bin Laden construction company infrastructure advertisement.
  
• now we're making tacos as some clothes and sheets dry outside, preparing to drive down south for our friend's going-away party. he has to return to south africa, which is a damn shame. I think we'll all miss Jamie's warm smile, attentive ear and heart of gold.
  
• tacos are ready, time to go. adios. paz y amor a todos.
  

stalled on a full tank

VS.

this is pretty embarrassing, but in the interests of accurately portraying my life and job here, this story must be told. the events which follow really happened, about five minutes ago. here we go.

there are two designated teachers bathrooms, one for each sex, right outside of the staff room at any given school. teachers use these rooms and never any others, and now I finally understand why. the men's room is replete with three urinals and two stalls, enough to handle everyone's needs. the problem is that the two stalls at this particular school contain only traditional japanese 'squat' toilets, which for reasons of comfort I still avoid using at all costs. so when the forces of nature called today, I was forced to venture into the untamed wilds of the students' bathrooms in search of a proper seat.

aware that the school day had just ended and the kids were now roaming free, I slipped from the staff room and tread down the hall, every sense simultaneously straining, searching for the slightest shuffling sound or surreptitious signal of a stealthy student. detecting a small group of second years crowded around their own bathroom on the main floor, I turned the corner and padded down the stairs to the first year level. hallelujah, the coast looked clear all the way in.

but alas! I entered to find a lone first year washing up inside the bathroom. this kid and I have a relatively familiar and amiable relationship, so I hoped that he would let this particular sighting of Ken-sensei slip by, and instead just run along to join his pals. but of course, that's just not how these things work.

after asking him if there was a light over the stalls, which he promptly turned on for me (why, thanks friend!), I took my seat as I heard his footfalls retreat down the quiet hall outside. a minute or so passed. such a peaceful, contemplative minute. "I wonder if Spring really is here?", I thought. "I can't wait to see those cherry blossoms for the first time".

suddenly I was jerked from my reverie by what sounded like a small army of plastic sandals in the distance. soon the very ground seemed to pound rapidly, and my heart moved to keep the beat as the steps and giddy chatter grew louder. then a cresting wave of sound exploded into the room, with shouts of "KEN SENSEI!" and "OH! MR. KEN!!" echoing and re-echoing like bullets off the tile walls, followed by what seemed like hundreds of swift hands knocking on the door of my cramped stall.

next, the true siege began. in mounting despair I watched small, powerful fingers curl over the top of the stall walls moments before their owners' heads followed, beaming down at me, pointing and laughing and wrestling with each other for a viewing spot as I sat helpless below, waving my arms over my head and commanding (begging) them to "DA-ME! DAME!! (STOP!/NO!/BAD!/HAVE YOU NO MERCY?)" but it only seemed to fuel their frenzied excitement.

finally I stood up with a bellow of warning, making them drop off the top, and cleaned up shop as quickly and carefully as I could, knowing the stall was about to be submitted to a thorough inspection by everyone present. I took a deep calming breath as they flicked the lights on and off (a tactic designed to force me into the open?), then emerged, ducking through the doorframe. my exit elicited an enthusiastic cheer from a small troupe of no fewer than fifteen boys who now stood around me, lining the small bathroom in a primal sort of chanting ring. shaking my head, I strode to the sink with as much dignity as I could muster and began to wash my hands, ignoring the questions being thrown at me from all directions in less-than-formal Japanese, "are you alright?" "did you eat vegetables?" "is that how americans do it?"

desperately trying to salvage the end of this situation by making it an educational opportunity, I told them I would only speak in English whilst in the bathroom. the question they ended up forming was "Ken-sensei, why didn't you use the teacher's bathroom?". all in all pretty reasonable, considering no teacher ever has or will use a student toilet.

returning upstairs with the remaining contingent following close behind, led by the boy I had once considered my friend, I tried to explain that I had some difficulty using the low toilets, which we don't have back in America, and prefer to sit. needless to say, I now agree with my young pupil's suggestion that I try and adapt to this last of Japanese traditions, because I hope to never in all my days return and sit again on that cold, porcelain throne of shame.

this does not legally constitute financial advice

... but if you have around $1000 in the bank right now and no pressing need of it for the next coupla years i'd recommend starting an etrade account, transferring the money electronically from your bank, investing it in apple computers and watch it grow, grow, grow. but, ya know, that's just my opinion*.

*(simpsons-style fast-speaking infomercial disclaimer) the opinions of the blogger expressed herein do not constitute legal or financial advice, and neither the blogger nor any related party may be held accountable for any injuries, hair loss or bankruptcy caused as a result of being influenced by said opinions.

p.s. this entry is made after two consecutive all-nighters and precious little sleep, so please don't judge me if it seems either dreamlike or reads like the fragmented, urgent thoughts that might spill out as a mind slowly unravels.

happy heart day

Before I try to describe the weekend, here are the most recent 11 pictures from my cellphone, which tell a story of their own.












Ahh, this is a nice change of pace. riding the bus around the city, taking in the scenery and fascinating, muted snippets of strangers' lives glimpsed through the window, choosing the long route to where I'm headed and having no reason to rush it. 95 percent of weekend mornings I'll end up sleeping in until at least eleven, but every once in a great while I find myself wide awake, out and about before 8am on a sunny sunday. My laptop happens to be with me at the moment since it served as the jukebox for the JET fundraising valentines day party this last friday. The funds were being raised for a volunteer trip to India to build a house in late april that I'm real excited to join.

Later today Alex and I will host the first ever monthly Ueki teacher's eikaiwa (english conversation meeting) with whoever shows up. We have high hopes for a solid turnout of 2 or 3 this time, but with greater advance notice and fun little event cards we may be able to double those figures next month. Big changes are happening in Ueki, yes suh. This last friday we laid the planning foundations for a kids' easter egg dying and hunt on easter sunday and a (hopefully) big fourth of july bash this summer. Alex and I were both feeling we could try harder to bring some cultural flavor from home to our new hometown (it's Japanese Exchange and Teaching Program after all), so we're endeavoring to start some small-scale community events. So far they are fully comprised of american holidays we would otherwise miss celebrating, but it's a start. the Ueki board of education seems receptive to our efforts so it just might work.

Alex certainly earns her money teaching 5 elementary classes a day, making posters and planning lessons, but sometimes I wonder if the stated requirements of my position in junior high really warrant the pay grade JET has allotted me. Fortunately a combination of mind-numbing stretches of free time at work and a vague sense of unproductive guilt, coupled with the cheery determination of a friend with much better people skills and practical organizing sense, can help produce some good holiday family fun for the whole community.

I have a few minutes before getting off the bus, but I just want to note that this has been an amazing week and weekend. Two nomihodai parties in two days is a pretty fail-safe recipe for meeting some new people and having a story to tell, but a lot of factors combined to make this weekend especially memorable. For starters I was single on valentines day, which manifested itself as it should- with me hanging out watching movies and 30 Rock with two other single dudes all weekend, enjoying a romantic stroll around a beautiful lake in central Kumamoto and taking some pictures with the aforementioned dudes, and spending the special night itself passing out exhausted on my (younger) karate sensei's couch at his apartment in the city.

Saturday night's party took place at a friend's English conversation school, so there was a serendipitous mixture of English-speaking foreigners with varying degrees of Japanese-speaking abilities wanting to make Japanese-speaking friends and vice-versa. So I met some interesting new people, including a trilingual guy from Belize who professionally plays the steel drums (amazingly graceful and beautiful to watch-both the instrument and the man himself of course) and is seeking a pianist who only has to know basic chords.

Alright, time to wrap things up. I think I'll actually post this blog entry after only one (make that two) revision(s), rather than putting it up after 4 or so revisions then immediately deleting it and starting from scratch again later. I just want those few of you who read this blog to know that I sincerely do want to keep a decently substantive running account of my life, but I have a troublesome touch of semi-neurotic perfectionism that prevents me from being satisfied with almost anything I produce, compounded by the formidable goal of trying to please a varied audience that includes both my grandmother and some meathead fraternity brothers, to whom i would normally speak a little differently. but if I can get in the habit of putting down a stream of consciousness after significant experiences here, revising it a few times then posting (and leaving) it, hopefully I can break down the mental barriers and update this more regularly. I do love writing, and i'd like to do more of it. well, that's all for now, thanks for reading.