Written in flight on my way to the US from Japan. Dec. 15, 2008....
Now I remember why I don't like Northwest. I had this sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind when I saw that Northwest logo next to the online cheapest price - that NWA with the red arrow staring back - sort of like coaxing you onward but at the same time screaming STOP!
I'm about a third of the way into my flight and it's been all fairly comfortable and all - luckily my year and a half in Japan has made me quite accustomed to hanging out in cramped places for long periods of time. I think this realization came on with that nostalgic 1970s in-flight atmosphere only a northwest 747-400 can provide. When I flew into Japan well over a year ago with AA, each seat had its own personal screen and you could choose to watch 1 of several movies starting every 20 min. or so. (Last winter when I flew the movies would even start as soon as you selected them). Not on this flight though. I'm almost in a corner so I have a sharp angled view of 3 screens, each with their own unique malfunctions. The projection screen is one with the 3 separate colors shining from 3 angles. Except the colors aren't exactly lined up. Now I know this is Christmas time, but do I have to see Merrel Streep dancing and singing in Red and Green AND Blue? Op - and she just jumped off the dock in all her clothes. I looked up in the booklet to see what movies would be playing on this flight: "For those lucky souls traveling from Tokyo to Minneapolis we will be showing Mamma Mia! and The Women." I'm not sure who did the customer analysis for NW, but it surprises me that they get mostly middle-aged ladies on this leg of the journey. The second tv nearest me is overplaying the red on the right of the screen, so anyone appearing on that side looks like they have a terrible sunburn. And judging by the size of the third one, I'm pretty sure it's somebody's ipod stuck up on the wall so that they can watch it without holding it.
I just got back from the broom-closet bathroom and found it fully "manual." I even had to drain the sink by pushing on a lever that lifted the plug in the bottom.
Probably one of the more sadder moments already came (I hope) when a young girl 2 rows in front of me called the flight attendant over with the problem that her seat wouldn't go back any further, only to be told that was all the further her seat went. The seats truly recline to an almost negligable angle. I don't know why they ever bother telling people to return their seats "to the upright position." EVERY position is an upright position. It kind of makes the preflight comfort literature laughable. I read it all trying to kill our taxiing time. Dr. so-and-so was going on and on about back stress and how you should keep your seat at the optimal 135-degree angle for your spine during the flight. I'd be lucky if my seat could break 93. (Uh oh, turbulence...I'll just pretend I'm in a non-reclining massage chair. A 160-dollar-an-hour massage chair...*sob*).
Speaking of adjusting - there was also a nice 1970s-esque video that had advice for adapting/getting used to the new time zone. I had no idea it was so simple, but aparantly there's just 3 things you need to do: 1) "Spend time outdoors everyday." Ok. This is the flight to Minneapolis in the dead of winter. The estimated landing temperature is -15. My entire outdoor time this vacation is labeled "neccessary transit only" and that whole time I'm reassessing ways to get to the next indoor place quicker. 2) "Drink plenty of fluids." ... and fluids do what for adjusting to the fact that the sun will be coming up at my dinner time? 3) This one was the gem. The words appeared one by one on the screen: "Take...Time...For...YOURSELF." Take time and make it your slave! The clock says 3 in the morning. NOPE! This is LUNCHTIME! "I know that clock says I'm supposed to be at the Christmas Party right now, but I'm taking time for myself! I'm going fishing!
Well, I'm picking this journal up again while we're landing here to help me take my mind off my popping ears. It's been a loooong flight, but at least I could lean a bit on the empty seat next to me and sleep some. At any rate, despite the ups and downs (literally) I know I got a better deal on this Northwest flight than all those passengers around me because I farted the entire 6,000 miles home and I can't smell.
So long to Northwest for now; however, with my long distance locked into their frequent flyer program, it might not be too long until I'm coaxed back by that arrow, albeit red, for another adventure.
.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Musing
The days are getting longer every day, and I love it. I can slip out of this office at 4:15 with enough time to see the sun before he falls behind the hills of Yui.
I have another musing - what is the balance between the vanity and ego that has allowed so many great men and women to do so much good in the world, and sinful arrogance? At what point does loving oneself turn into self-love? Should this even be a concern of mine? I've always been really hard on myself - held an anti-vanity - even in the face of real success. But maybe that too is selfishness, disguised in my self-effacing. Yes, I'm commanded to love myself. I've just always been afraid that in allowing myself to reach the limits of my high expectations I would somehow be reveling in self glory, puffed full of pride. Maybe it's time to start expecting to reach my expectations.
I think the fall comes in where you give the credit. Who allows me the privilege to think? To do? To navigate complex social constructs? Or to even breathe? And I've been asked to do a lot. I've been given a lot and assembled with a lot of potential and maybe it would be a sin to not reach it. Objectively, I have everything it takes to do anything. I just lack the drive and discipline. Maybe that's what this all comes down to. Maybe I'm disguising the hard work of great men with their ego, using that created cause so I can better attack it with my arguments in order to feel better about my own mediocrity, not daring to rise above timidity and slightness.
I need discipline.
.
I have another musing - what is the balance between the vanity and ego that has allowed so many great men and women to do so much good in the world, and sinful arrogance? At what point does loving oneself turn into self-love? Should this even be a concern of mine? I've always been really hard on myself - held an anti-vanity - even in the face of real success. But maybe that too is selfishness, disguised in my self-effacing. Yes, I'm commanded to love myself. I've just always been afraid that in allowing myself to reach the limits of my high expectations I would somehow be reveling in self glory, puffed full of pride. Maybe it's time to start expecting to reach my expectations.
I think the fall comes in where you give the credit. Who allows me the privilege to think? To do? To navigate complex social constructs? Or to even breathe? And I've been asked to do a lot. I've been given a lot and assembled with a lot of potential and maybe it would be a sin to not reach it. Objectively, I have everything it takes to do anything. I just lack the drive and discipline. Maybe that's what this all comes down to. Maybe I'm disguising the hard work of great men with their ego, using that created cause so I can better attack it with my arguments in order to feel better about my own mediocrity, not daring to rise above timidity and slightness.
I need discipline.
.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Land Ho
I’ve been at my desk an hour now and I’ve managed to wade through the pile of papers left on my desk, submit my attendance sheet for the month of December and pass out my omiyage to everyone’s desk. I have 4 days here before classes start for me. I still have to figure out exactly what I’m doing for my classes this term, so I’m going to need the days to figure that out.
I got home 2 nights ago, but it certainly hasn’t felt that long. I spent most of the trip from the plane to my apartment in a blurry delusion with one eye asleep and the other cutting in and out to check the station names for my transfers. I’m not exactly sure how I got home. I do remember clearly arriving at the airport and seeing the sign that in English said “Welcome to Japan” but underneath it in Japanese it said, “Welcome Home.” This is such a perfect representation of the dyadic feelings I have as both an American and a man who lives in Japan.
The hours after that were spent passed out on my bed. I woke up on Sunday with enough time to throw away molding food, wash laundry (I tried running the water first to get rid of any rust and in doing so disconnected the hose without turning off the water so it sprayed my entire bathroom and I had to run fans for several hours to dry it out), hike the half a block to my view of the ocean (and smacked my knee super hard on a bolt sticking out of the barrier and almost threw up because it hurt so bad) before heading to the Sano-san’s poruche ramen for dinner. I biked there to keep my knee from locking up – it was becoming quite swollen. I felt kind of bad about not coming for so long. I think Mr. Sano was a little distant because of the elapsed time. I said “hisashiburi” and he responded with a phrase that he explained meant longer than “it’s been a long time.” His grandchildren were there so it was nice to see them. His newest grandkid, a boy named Yuuki now a year and a half old, was wearing a shirt that said in English, “Friendship transcends national borders.” I thought this was so appropriate and a real sign that I should be spending more time at the Sano-sans. I think I might go every Sunday evening.
I biked across the road to the drug store after dinner to buy some ibuprofen for my knee. I was walking very slowly in the store. I was able to say and spell “ibuprofen” for the pharmacist and he recognized it with the Japanese pronunciation so I got a small package for about five-dollars. I was quite surprised to meet the girl working the register – she’s probably the prettiest Japanese girl I’ve ever met, and she even has really nice teeth. (A funny thing to say maybe, but you can’t take that for granted here. It’s unfortunately such a limiting factor with Japanese women…) I talked with her in my terrible broken Japanese and she was still smiling after 10 min. so I think she liked me. Her name is Yumi (You-me) and she lives right next to Ihara High School. We were interrupted a couple of times by other customers so I eventually said, “Ah, that’s right, you have a job.” She told me to come back and see her. I said sure, and she said anytime would be fine. I told her I’d make sure to injure myself again so I could come back.
This year (and anytime) is going to be a year that needs structure. I also have already made myself a calendar with dinners to be cooked each night of the week, a room in the house to be cleaned, and an evening activity. I really do not want these 7 months to go to waste. I don’t want a day to go to waste. I have so much to do and so many reasons to be happy here in Japan. I’m going to focus on very concrete ways of keeping myself occupied.
Well, now really should be work time. I’m keeping my work life and play life as far apart as east and west. That way I can hit it hard when I arrive “home.”
.
I got home 2 nights ago, but it certainly hasn’t felt that long. I spent most of the trip from the plane to my apartment in a blurry delusion with one eye asleep and the other cutting in and out to check the station names for my transfers. I’m not exactly sure how I got home. I do remember clearly arriving at the airport and seeing the sign that in English said “Welcome to Japan” but underneath it in Japanese it said, “Welcome Home.” This is such a perfect representation of the dyadic feelings I have as both an American and a man who lives in Japan.
The hours after that were spent passed out on my bed. I woke up on Sunday with enough time to throw away molding food, wash laundry (I tried running the water first to get rid of any rust and in doing so disconnected the hose without turning off the water so it sprayed my entire bathroom and I had to run fans for several hours to dry it out), hike the half a block to my view of the ocean (and smacked my knee super hard on a bolt sticking out of the barrier and almost threw up because it hurt so bad) before heading to the Sano-san’s poruche ramen for dinner. I biked there to keep my knee from locking up – it was becoming quite swollen. I felt kind of bad about not coming for so long. I think Mr. Sano was a little distant because of the elapsed time. I said “hisashiburi” and he responded with a phrase that he explained meant longer than “it’s been a long time.” His grandchildren were there so it was nice to see them. His newest grandkid, a boy named Yuuki now a year and a half old, was wearing a shirt that said in English, “Friendship transcends national borders.” I thought this was so appropriate and a real sign that I should be spending more time at the Sano-sans. I think I might go every Sunday evening.
I biked across the road to the drug store after dinner to buy some ibuprofen for my knee. I was walking very slowly in the store. I was able to say and spell “ibuprofen” for the pharmacist and he recognized it with the Japanese pronunciation so I got a small package for about five-dollars. I was quite surprised to meet the girl working the register – she’s probably the prettiest Japanese girl I’ve ever met, and she even has really nice teeth. (A funny thing to say maybe, but you can’t take that for granted here. It’s unfortunately such a limiting factor with Japanese women…) I talked with her in my terrible broken Japanese and she was still smiling after 10 min. so I think she liked me. Her name is Yumi (You-me) and she lives right next to Ihara High School. We were interrupted a couple of times by other customers so I eventually said, “Ah, that’s right, you have a job.” She told me to come back and see her. I said sure, and she said anytime would be fine. I told her I’d make sure to injure myself again so I could come back.
This year (and anytime) is going to be a year that needs structure. I also have already made myself a calendar with dinners to be cooked each night of the week, a room in the house to be cleaned, and an evening activity. I really do not want these 7 months to go to waste. I don’t want a day to go to waste. I have so much to do and so many reasons to be happy here in Japan. I’m going to focus on very concrete ways of keeping myself occupied.
Well, now really should be work time. I’m keeping my work life and play life as far apart as east and west. That way I can hit it hard when I arrive “home.”
.
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