April 15, 2005
Forbidden!
I am the worst post office customer ever. Not only am I unable to communicate beyond wild gestures, but I am functionally illiterate. I am the post office chimpanzee. Further, I never require anything easy. One letter first class stamp? Oh no, not I. I have never made a request of the post-office staff that wasn’t bizarre in some construct. I send multiple packages to various continents, I sent 60+ cards and parcels at Christmas, I’ve been sending enormous boxes of our random stuff home monthly since January, there were about 50 wedding invitations mailed two weeks ago, registered mail. Ecetera. Today we sent two boxes containing, among other things, our winter coats, my porcelain Hello Kitty, a few books, knitting needles, my Miffy mugs, hats and scarves. A third box consisted of my entire CD collection, all 5 kilograms of it. This is the end of our stuff, and I was thrilled about that. So thrilled that I decided to explain as much to the Post Office staff member who has to help us every time. “Finished” I said to her in Japanese, pointing to our stuff. She looked confused. I repeated myself a few times, pointing, with a large smile hoping she would understand. Then I realised Stuart was also looking at me rather strangely. “What are you doing?” he asked. I realised I wasn’t actually saying “Dekita!”, which means “finished”. I was saying “Dammait!” which is a very strong way to say “Forbidden!”, and you would yell it at someone who was groping you on the train. I stopped yelling “Forbidden” in the post office, at that realisation. The staff member, who no doubt already thinks I am crazy, didn’t really bat an eye. We ended up spending $150.00, which has become quite normal for us. It beats paying excess luggage fees at the airport. We must be the post office’s best customers. In Japan, it is common for stores to give “gifts” to customers who spend large amounts of money. Today, in spite of me shouting “Forbidden, Forbidden!” at the Post Office staff, we were given the gift of a brand new sponge.
April 13, 2005
English is also bustin out all over
Must draw attention to this article from This Magazine, which takes issue with “linguistic imperialism” and the ethical problem that has been my daily life for the past year. English has become a hot commodity and people are desperate to get it, paying massive fees and going into debt to do so. I think of one of my students, who works night shifts in a toothpaste factory and is usually far too nervous to speak in her English classes, another who had mental problems to begin with (and this is more common than you’d think among our clientele) and now has been admitted to hospital for the next three months. She has lost all the points she bought for English lessons as they’ll expire by the time she’s out. The number of students who feel utterly diminished by their lack of English skills, regardless of what other accomplishments they’ve managed in their lives, and so exalt people such as myself and my co-workers to a near-Godlike status for something we’ve put in no effort to achieve. The people who are desperate to learn idioms and slang, to sound “natural”, like a native speaker- and no one ever does. They want to sound and act Westernized, and at the expense of what? Their parents can’t help but be proud of them though. The article’s missionary metaphor is a successful one- blatantly as some teachers are eager to share their religious faith with students, and others (I am definitely not innocent here) try to share their ideals, which go against cultural grain. We challenge students to defy their parents, to stand up for themselves, to express themselves, to be individuals, on a daily basis.
It’s not all bad. I think there are many teachers who allow themselves to come away with a broadened perspective as a result of their international experience. In a country like Japan, exposing people to the rare foreigner does them a remarkable amount of worldly good. I think the idea of an international communication tool is a positive thing, even if I have to bear the guilt that it’s the language I was born with. Learning a second language is a worthy occupation. The problem is the business, which exploits its customers, preying on their inferiority complexes to make them open their wallets wide, all the while delivering a product that isn’t so entirely good. The problem is this insistence on “nativeness” that allows students to chase an unachievable-for-most goal, and gives companies an excuse to hire teachers (such as myself) with the bare minimum of qualifications.
I’ve had an incredible year like you can’t imagine and I wouldn’t want to take that away from anyone else. But I think it’s important that teachers maintain a realistic perspective on what it is we’re doing here, and so an article like this is a good thing.
April 13, 2005
Britney's bustin out all over
In the midst of financial freak-outs, because I am not a resident of Ontario and therefore may not qualify for govmt loans. Anyway, I think this may be big news, though only time will tell. I am currently finishing the novel I’ve been writing for a year and a half, and very pleased with the results. I’m thinking ahead to my next project, which will probably turn into my graduate thesis. I’m excited. I know the characters already. It’s going to be a little bit of 1980s Whitby suburbia, Cold War Mania, expatriate family life in the Middle East, the Revolution in Iran. It’s going to involve a ton of research and I think I am going to make something really incredible.
We said good bye to Julie tonight. Her bag weighs an absolute ton, and watching her pack was a scary glimpse into our immediate future. We must send another couple of boxed home tomorrow. How does the stuff gather? It’s our weekend again, and in view of our imminent poverty, we’ve elected to stay in town this weekend. The usual karaoke, lunch out, hang about routine. We might go to the garden at Himeji Castle, which we haven’t seen yet.
And on with the big news, though I sure you know by now. Britney is pregnant! Has Kevin Federline not heard of birth control? That man has been impregnating women at a crazy rate of late. In less idiotic news, Alice Munro is one of Time’s Most influential people. There is a Northrop Frye Lit Festival in Moncton this month. The man who is regrettingly behind the famous necropheliac duck, on being Donald, which is the name of Charles Kennedy’s baby son. Ee-na!- a summer music festival guide. A very short excerpt from my beloved Douglas Coupland’s new book on Terry Fox. And a sensible perspective on the Japanese textbook debate.
April 12, 2005
They say our love won't pay the rent
Realizing just how poor we’re going to be, as I enter Graduate School and my husband waits for his landed immigrant status. What a way to start our marriage. It’s going to be an incredibly crazy couple of years. And beyond that too, I’m sure.
Andrea Dworkin has died. “In a world where teenage girls believe that breast implants will make them happy and where rape convictions are down to a record low of 5.6% of reported rapes; in a public culture which has been relentlessly pornographised, in an academic environment which has allowed postmodernism to remove all politics from feminism, we will miss Andrea Dworkin”- from The Guardian. Her ideas are not easy to stomach, but they get important dialogues started, no matter where they lead. In other feminist news, an attack on Title IX.
April 9, 2005
Pink Poo in the Press
On the inequality of parenthood. It was an interesting story, but a bit silly and it’s tiresome to continually read the tragic plights of women the likes of whom can actually afford nannies and au pairs. I’ve never been one to knock the upper-middle class, but all the same. Also, when you marry a massively-driven-career-monster, you can’t really be surprised when he opts out of household chores. Disappointed, yes but what were you expecting? I did love the woman in this story who has gladly accepted full responsibility for household matters while her husband works, and has given up most of her life to do so. Her child is three! Call her in ten years and see if she’s still so content, even with her daytime home help.
In more women-sans-choice news, Hillary Rodham Clinton goes to war to fight the troglodytes for the Morning-After Pill’s availability. May she filibuster vigilently.
Fantastic! An interview with Margot Kidder. She describes Pierre Trudeau as a “great lover” and George Bush as “a monkey”.
George Elliott Clarke reviews Red Silk: An Anthology of South Asian Canadian Women Poets.
On the fantastic Takashi Murakami art show in New York. This article focuses particularly on Chinatsu Ban’s Central Park exhibit, VWX Yellow Elephant Underwear/ HIJ Kiddy Elephant Underwear, which as an elephant-lover I’m obsessed with. Today at work we had a conversation on how the pink pile of elephant poo, spotted with hearts, was very cute, and then we realised we’d been in Japan too long.
April 9, 2005
Listlessness
Stuart is justifiably often irritated by my obsessive list-making, and so I retired my book of lists this past weekend so we could spend time relaxedly. It was not an unenjoyable experiment, but yet I felt somewhat at a loss. Listless, you might even say. Do you feel listless when you are listless? I’d never thought about it before. We looked it up in the dictionary, and found that that meaning” lacking energy or disinclined to exert effort” comes from root “liste” meaning “to desire” in Middle English. However “list” as in “a series of things in an order” comes from the French “liste” which presumably means something different. It is sad that I do not have lingual authority for my neuroses.
April 8, 2005
Hanami Afternoon
The freakin weekend has passed all too quickly. Yesterday we went to Kobe Harborland and met my friend Katch for lunch. We went to this fabulous restaurant with an all-you-can eat bread buffet. We actually weren’t sure if it was all-you-can-eat, but we treated it as such. This is what happens when you set foreigners loose at a bread buffet. It was comically embarrassing when they had to bring another plate, as all our bread couldn’t possibly fit on the three we’d been allotted. We each had an exquisite lunch. I am deeply going to miss Japanese lunch sets- they’re phenomenal. We did prikura and then said good bye to Katch and walked for ages to Motomachi to supplement my soup habit, and then farther to Sannomiya to get the train home. I was exhausted by then. A backpack full of soup will do that to you. Last night we hit karaoke and it was great. Stuart was very supportive, and duetted with me to “Almost Paradise- Love Theme From Footloose” and “Always” by Atlantic Starr. In cooler tunes, Hush by Kula Shakur was fantastic. This morning, Stuart went to the gym and I stayed home, presumably to make good use of my time but instead I fell into yet another of my infamous and socially embarrassing scrapes, though I don’t want to talk about it. I spent the morning neither writing, working out or cleaning my apartment, but rather clutching my head with idiot angst. We left the house around 1:00 but had to come home after one as it was so warm, and I hate wearing jeans when it’s hot outside. It was cotton capris and a sleeveless top, and sandals. Welcome to summer. We went up to the castle and the blossoms were out in full force, absolutely beautiful. We sat on a bamboo mat under the trees, drank and blissed. I played a little guitar and it was truly lovely. Baskin Robbins and more prikura after that. Needless to say, this weekend was an exercise in pleasure.
