Anyone who has ever thought the Japanese can't rock will feel SO wrong after seeing this:
Do you feel wrong now? Do you? Or do you just feel wronged? shit. sorry.
over and out
the miscellany and adventures continue
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
right. so the rap stuff, my friend and I stumbled on after having coffee in Shibuya (part of Tokyo where the cool kids go). The are preforming in the Apple Store as some sort of promotion. I don't know what they are saying or why or who. I wish I captured the bling a little better.
the only lyrics I can catch is "cho hidde" which is about equivalent to "craptastic," "sucky" or "that f-ing licks man"
the proper Japanese would be "totemo hidoi" and the proper English would be "that's really horrible"
but who can criticize such art?
Question? you've got to have some.
the only lyrics I can catch is "cho hidde" which is about equivalent to "craptastic," "sucky" or "that f-ing licks man"
the proper Japanese would be "totemo hidoi" and the proper English would be "that's really horrible"
but who can criticize such art?
Question? you've got to have some.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
happy new year!
There are lots of reasons I haven't been blogging recently, but I won't get into all that boring stuff. Instead I give you a post! I went back to Washington for the holidays, spent it with family, got to see snow! and hang out with my bro. This is written in the Seattle airport, waiting for my plane.
Due to miracles of traffic, check in, and security, it is 3am Tokyo time and I'm waiting to catch my plane. I won't get home until about 7pm. But now, while my battery and the coffee lasts, time for a few reflections.
Reverse Culture Shock
One of the interesting things about leaving where you live is realizing what you tell other people about. There are so many stories in the last year, far far too many to relate in a week in a half, so the characters (friends), places (settings) and events (plot of sorts) are all things that jump to mind quickest. I was surprised at who I was mentioning over and over and always surprised at what others are surprised at. The prices of things in Tokyo don't surprise me anymore so I found it funny to see my brother exclaim with outrage over things that cost 3 dollars, when that's the cost of a 12 oz cup of coffee to me.
I was also amused, though not surprised so much, by the banker. A woman who was certainly more than an untrained teller but rather a proper banker, dressed in a fuzzy sweater, flat unpolished shoes, bland jewelry. She looked fine in the context of the Northwest, but living in Japan has given me an appreciation for someone in a fitted suit. The look for working very different than one that you might wear to bake cookies with nieces and nephews, or meet a friend for coffee, or hang out in the library. The Japanese suit says, I'm working now. This is not for comfort or fun.
New Year's Eve.
Historically I've often had mediocre to miserable New Year's Eves. Last year in Seattle was fun but in the past this holiday was the setting of one of my most painful breakups and generally was a holiday where I couldn't get back in time to be with my friends or at the type of party I wanted, blah blah. So I don't have high expectations.
This year was also odd. Out in a Bellingham brewery with my New Yorker cousin and her dad and his girlfriend, surrounded by crunchy hippies, we watched a Christmas light covered keg lowered as the clock struck midnight. I think both my cuz and I felt a bit like a fish out of water as we scanned the crowd for hot guys and found lots of unkempt facial hair, some drugged out dancing, and a plethora of fleece jackets.
I sighed disappointedly as I explained to her, "I guess I've just grown accustomed to a certain level of grooming."
As if we were both exchange students who had traveled abroad so long that we didn't know which was home and which was a cultural study opportunity, we smiled at each other knowingly.
But the lack of attractive men was refreshing in some ways. I was worried that my standards in Tokyo had slipped drastically. I was worried that I became interested in anyone just because they shared some fraction of cultural identity (and therefore sense of humor and sense of respect) who spoke English. So when I scanned the crowd, 100% English speaking whities and found no one all that attractive, I breathed a little sigh of relief. While my standards may still be giving me troubles, Tokyo attracts attractive people and it's good to know that.
***
My cousin's dad, who I don't remember meeting before my mom's memorial service last year, looked at me intently. I suppose he's known me since birth, at least by reputation. I suppose he sees some of my mother in my skin. He looked at me as if rather than seeing me in the present moment, I was a collage of past and future. Pictures of the little girl with chubby baby cheeks superimposed on the future me, at my mother's age. It was a warm look but oddly uncomfortable. It made me feel as if I was borrowing someone else's skin and someone else's history. As if I wasn't really me but rather a montage of stories, snapshots, and other people's faces. And I suppose that is all I am some days, it's easy not to invent yourself but rather be a character in everyone else's life, I think. I didn't have the energy to yell above the music and prove myself to be someone complete in a wholly different way. I felt bad giving unsatisfying short answers but that was all I could muster in the moment.
I wished them happy new year with a smile but without a promise to keep in touch or pretend that we are family.
Later, back at home, my cousin and I raided the house for junk food. I told her that one of my New Year's resolutions was to be more girlie. To try a new image and see if I like it. See what happens if I try and re-invent myself a little again. Funny how both of us are trying so hard to be such well put together people in such formal places, despite our beautiful down to the earth hippy mothers and upbringings full of playing in the dirt and climbing trees like monkeys.
Due to miracles of traffic, check in, and security, it is 3am Tokyo time and I'm waiting to catch my plane. I won't get home until about 7pm. But now, while my battery and the coffee lasts, time for a few reflections.
Reverse Culture Shock
One of the interesting things about leaving where you live is realizing what you tell other people about. There are so many stories in the last year, far far too many to relate in a week in a half, so the characters (friends), places (settings) and events (plot of sorts) are all things that jump to mind quickest. I was surprised at who I was mentioning over and over and always surprised at what others are surprised at. The prices of things in Tokyo don't surprise me anymore so I found it funny to see my brother exclaim with outrage over things that cost 3 dollars, when that's the cost of a 12 oz cup of coffee to me.
I was also amused, though not surprised so much, by the banker. A woman who was certainly more than an untrained teller but rather a proper banker, dressed in a fuzzy sweater, flat unpolished shoes, bland jewelry. She looked fine in the context of the Northwest, but living in Japan has given me an appreciation for someone in a fitted suit. The look for working very different than one that you might wear to bake cookies with nieces and nephews, or meet a friend for coffee, or hang out in the library. The Japanese suit says, I'm working now. This is not for comfort or fun.
New Year's Eve.
Historically I've often had mediocre to miserable New Year's Eves. Last year in Seattle was fun but in the past this holiday was the setting of one of my most painful breakups and generally was a holiday where I couldn't get back in time to be with my friends or at the type of party I wanted, blah blah. So I don't have high expectations.
This year was also odd. Out in a Bellingham brewery with my New Yorker cousin and her dad and his girlfriend, surrounded by crunchy hippies, we watched a Christmas light covered keg lowered as the clock struck midnight. I think both my cuz and I felt a bit like a fish out of water as we scanned the crowd for hot guys and found lots of unkempt facial hair, some drugged out dancing, and a plethora of fleece jackets.
I sighed disappointedly as I explained to her, "I guess I've just grown accustomed to a certain level of grooming."
As if we were both exchange students who had traveled abroad so long that we didn't know which was home and which was a cultural study opportunity, we smiled at each other knowingly.
But the lack of attractive men was refreshing in some ways. I was worried that my standards in Tokyo had slipped drastically. I was worried that I became interested in anyone just because they shared some fraction of cultural identity (and therefore sense of humor and sense of respect) who spoke English. So when I scanned the crowd, 100% English speaking whities and found no one all that attractive, I breathed a little sigh of relief. While my standards may still be giving me troubles, Tokyo attracts attractive people and it's good to know that.
***
My cousin's dad, who I don't remember meeting before my mom's memorial service last year, looked at me intently. I suppose he's known me since birth, at least by reputation. I suppose he sees some of my mother in my skin. He looked at me as if rather than seeing me in the present moment, I was a collage of past and future. Pictures of the little girl with chubby baby cheeks superimposed on the future me, at my mother's age. It was a warm look but oddly uncomfortable. It made me feel as if I was borrowing someone else's skin and someone else's history. As if I wasn't really me but rather a montage of stories, snapshots, and other people's faces. And I suppose that is all I am some days, it's easy not to invent yourself but rather be a character in everyone else's life, I think. I didn't have the energy to yell above the music and prove myself to be someone complete in a wholly different way. I felt bad giving unsatisfying short answers but that was all I could muster in the moment.
I wished them happy new year with a smile but without a promise to keep in touch or pretend that we are family.
Later, back at home, my cousin and I raided the house for junk food. I told her that one of my New Year's resolutions was to be more girlie. To try a new image and see if I like it. See what happens if I try and re-invent myself a little again. Funny how both of us are trying so hard to be such well put together people in such formal places, despite our beautiful down to the earth hippy mothers and upbringings full of playing in the dirt and climbing trees like monkeys.
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