My friend's name is Shin.
He is kind but he is always fooling around with women.
He likes parsley.
We are classmates.
He is good at singing songs because he likes music.
He joined brass band.
He is the bass trombone player.
Shin wets his bed every night.
He does not like eggplants because they are bitter.
He has a big voice but he has a narrow mind.
Monday, June 18, 2012
My Best Friend (SJ: 6/18)
三年生 - Elective:
Thursday, June 14, 2012
If I Could Have a Super Power (SJ: 6/13)
三年生 - A(2):
If I could have a super power I would want the power to transform.
If I had that super power, then I would change into a man so I can play baseball.
We would go to Koshien.
Then we would win.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Kokumin no Kyujitsu
First and foremost, I want to congratulate my beasties on all of the hard work they have done to get to this point of graduation and, for those of you with post-high-school-graduate plans of either immediate employment, military service or continuing education, the best of luck and an extra dose of がんばって.
But, with high schools across America coming to a close, the internet has gone agog with articles regarding colleges and continuing education.
An interesting article came across my desk a few days ago from the Daily Yomiuri, which noted, briefly, that the Ministry of Education is looking to advance a two-year graduation option for high schoolers who meet a minimum academic benchmark.
The idea is that early graduation makes it possible for students who qualify for university (especially those applying for international education facing a seven-month gap between the end of high school in February and the opening of universities in the fall) to forgo their last year [either partially, after the spring (first) trimester, or entirely] of high school in order to pursue a tertiary degree and still receive an equivalent high school diploma. The change in the law would allow students to take advantage of an early-graduation policy that has been in place since 1997.
Currently, students who take advantage of such early admissions are considered to have "dropped out" of high school.
As it stands, 三年生 are forced into club "retirement" at the end of their first semester and then given the entire final (winter) trimester off to prepare for college entrance exams
In this recent article, Kouichi Nakai argues that the current system, while rooted in the post-war, reconstruction spirit, has outlived its purpose and no longer serves the betterment of the people and society, rather serves the ambiguous interests of "tradition." The system, rather than promoting education, is based on a failing relationship between higher education and Japanese Big Business.
Post war, he posits, saw Japan's second wave of westernization. Thanks in no small part to its forced inclusion into the global economic community, the country enjoyed a "rapid, dramatic [GDP] recovery" at an annual rate of 10% or more for nearly 20 years, clawing its way to the second highest GDP, behind only the USA by the early 80s. As it was economically, Japan was forced to "catch up" with Western educational policies, deciding to anchor its education on literacy and mathematics, using efficient, rote-based/input-output models of education.
As the forward-looking benefits of education in a post-war economy began to take hold, Kouichi notes that this saw a dramatic increase in rates of education throughout Japan: upwards of 98% of all students elected to attend high school, while 50% went on to pursue tertiary education, a number that would rise to 80% if it included technical and trade schools.
Especially as relationships between many of the top schools and sponsoring corporations began to tighten
The college entrance exam then became the first stepping stone.
Actually, college entrance exams became the only stone. There would be no application process. Just a truncated series of Uniform (national standardized)
Logically, since high school in Japan is non-compulsory and selective to begin with, this affected student enrollment, as students pursued enrollment to high schools often based on historical matriculation rates. The educational climate no longer judged a school on the quality of its instruction in the basics of math, science and letters, or its ability to produce thoughtful, mature leaders, but how well the school prepares students to pass (or circumvent) the university entrance examinations. Kouichi argues, this shift transformed high schools into little more than entrance-exam prep schools.
In the early years of this program, the public schools with the best reputation for acceptance into the top universities saw fierce competition, skewing attendance and the distribution of test scores (and, implicitly, wealth). This led to an attempt in the 60s and 70s of local boards of education to democratize access by smoothing out high school acceptance rates (which are, not ironically, based on high school entrance examinations) among the most competitive public high schools with quotas and regional restrictions, which in turn, sent many of the more affluent families scuttling towards private schools
Throughout the 80s, it was determined--at the administrative level--that the "current system" was failing to produce educated individuals. "The phrase '7, 5, 3' emerged to describe the ratios of students who actually understood their classes," Kouichi notes: "70% of elementary school students, 50% of middle schoolers, and 30% of high schoolers."
These shortcomings have become all the more apparent. It's a striking example of how the needs of a third-party institution that controls a vast majority of the potential job market greatly influences unaffiliated institutions. But it also speaks to how damming up a stream can wash away an institution's philosophical underpinning Takehiko Kariya argues, in the age of advanced globalization
Takehiko goes on to conclude that Japanese universities have allowed outside interests to dictate educational policy decisions, which, in turn have washed away any semblance of an effective vision, threatening to condemn the concept of a four-year liberal-arts-based Japanese education to little more than a joke, internationally. What matters to Japanese universities is how accepted students parlay their university contacts into job offers, often times cajoling faculty into passing students through classes based solely on their prospective job offers.
I've always been a fan of the theory of a liberal arts education, as a subscriber to the renaissance-humanist notion that a university should be about forming human beings, preparing them for life after academia, and not just mere technicians, number crunchers, or reporters. Acknowledging that liberal arts education isn't for everyone, I've also been an ardent supporter of technical and trade schools as valid alternatives (one of the few areas that the Japanese education system is vastly superior).
As someone who would like to think that my diploma signifies a level of competency and achievement of academic rigor, it's certainly disappointing to see institutions of higher learning make decisions that water down the value of something I worked so hard to obtain. And yet
However, it's hard not to be greatly bothered when the system is built in such a way that it lets your students down.
His name invokes the image of a roaring river: strong and powerful, yet fluid and smooth. As the captain of the basketball team his senior year, those remain apt. His name meant "quick water" and he was just as quick in the class as he was on the court, always reading, always trying, always pushing forward, always among the first of his class.
But the title that he most closely associates with himself, now, is that of "浪人." Ronin: a class of masterless samurai, shamed either by the death or demotion of his feudal lord. The mark of a samurai who was unable to protect his master or his honor and now wanders Japan in inherited shame.
Literally meaning "wave man," the term came into usage during the Nara and Heian periods when it was applied to a feudal vassal who abandoned his master, invoking the image of one who has become socially adrift. It has come to be applied to both salarymen who have become separated from their corporations and high school graduates who have not been granted university enrollment.
For my student, and the thousands of students like him
Rather than being accounted for as a person with potential skills to be tapped and developed, his worthiness was reduced to his ability to regurgitate information in a two hour block. For someone who had spent three years helping to build a community at Ichikashi, who helped lead the high school basketball team deep into the National Tournament, I remember feeling angry that the system had all but washed its hands of the kid. The system had nothing more to offer him until he passes the exam. Until he passes the entrance exam, he is condemned to 予備校-purgatory. At least until his will gives out.
Then again, it's never as dramatic as it seems. After all, this non-meritorious, exam-based system, he theoretically stands on equal footing with students taking the test for the first time this year. He'll just be put out a year. Of course, assuming that he can afford to put everything off for a year.
But, with high schools across America coming to a close, the internet has gone agog with articles regarding colleges and continuing education.
An interesting article came across my desk a few days ago from the Daily Yomiuri, which noted, briefly, that the Ministry of Education is looking to advance a two-year graduation option for high schoolers who meet a minimum academic benchmark.
The idea is that early graduation makes it possible for students who qualify for university (especially those applying for international education facing a seven-month gap between the end of high school in February and the opening of universities in the fall) to forgo their last year [either partially, after the spring (first) trimester, or entirely] of high school in order to pursue a tertiary degree and still receive an equivalent high school diploma. The change in the law would allow students to take advantage of an early-graduation policy that has been in place since 1997.
Currently, students who take advantage of such early admissions are considered to have "dropped out" of high school.
As it stands, 三年生 are forced into club "retirement" at the end of their first semester and then given the entire final (winter) trimester off to prepare for college entrance exams
1 Entrance exams that are notoriously scheduled only twice a year and often in opposition of competing schools, forcing students to "choose" which schools they want to test for between similarly tiered universities.
1.In this recent article, Kouichi Nakai argues that the current system, while rooted in the post-war, reconstruction spirit, has outlived its purpose and no longer serves the betterment of the people and society, rather serves the ambiguous interests of "tradition." The system, rather than promoting education, is based on a failing relationship between higher education and Japanese Big Business.
Post war, he posits, saw Japan's second wave of westernization. Thanks in no small part to its forced inclusion into the global economic community, the country enjoyed a "rapid, dramatic [GDP] recovery" at an annual rate of 10% or more for nearly 20 years, clawing its way to the second highest GDP, behind only the USA by the early 80s. As it was economically, Japan was forced to "catch up" with Western educational policies, deciding to anchor its education on literacy and mathematics, using efficient, rote-based/input-output models of education.
As the forward-looking benefits of education in a post-war economy began to take hold, Kouichi notes that this saw a dramatic increase in rates of education throughout Japan: upwards of 98% of all students elected to attend high school, while 50% went on to pursue tertiary education, a number that would rise to 80% if it included technical and trade schools.
Especially as relationships between many of the top schools and sponsoring corporations began to tighten
2 Here's a prescient 2009 article about the failure of this nudge-nudge relationship.
2, companies began promising Salaryman positions to a certain percentage of graduates from partner institutions. Get into the right school and a job would literally be waiting for you when you graduate. "Stability" in the form of Salaryman jobs became the "white picket fence" in post-war Japan and education was the cobbled road.The college entrance exam then became the first stepping stone.
Actually, college entrance exams became the only stone. There would be no application process. Just a truncated series of Uniform (national standardized)
3 In 1990, the Ministry of Education began proctoring a national standardized test in an attempt to help private universities move away from college-specific entrance testing requirements. The thinking was that by deemphasizing college-specific tests, schools would better be able to seek alternative forms of admission, thereby opening admissions to students returning from lengthy stays overseas, to students in areas that do not have easy access to the university's proctored exams, and to students who have been out of high school for more than two years.
3 and university-specific entrance exams.Logically, since high school in Japan is non-compulsory and selective to begin with, this affected student enrollment, as students pursued enrollment to high schools often based on historical matriculation rates. The educational climate no longer judged a school on the quality of its instruction in the basics of math, science and letters, or its ability to produce thoughtful, mature leaders, but how well the school prepares students to pass (or circumvent) the university entrance examinations. Kouichi argues, this shift transformed high schools into little more than entrance-exam prep schools.
In the early years of this program, the public schools with the best reputation for acceptance into the top universities saw fierce competition, skewing attendance and the distribution of test scores (and, implicitly, wealth). This led to an attempt in the 60s and 70s of local boards of education to democratize access by smoothing out high school acceptance rates (which are, not ironically, based on high school entrance examinations) among the most competitive public high schools with quotas and regional restrictions, which in turn, sent many of the more affluent families scuttling towards private schools
4 Not unlike the current state of East Coast public education today.
4. This doesn't even raise the issue of "feeder" high schools that guarantee admission to partner universities.Throughout the 80s, it was determined--at the administrative level--that the "current system" was failing to produce educated individuals. "The phrase '7, 5, 3' emerged to describe the ratios of students who actually understood their classes," Kouichi notes: "70% of elementary school students, 50% of middle schoolers, and 30% of high schoolers."
These shortcomings have become all the more apparent. It's a striking example of how the needs of a third-party institution that controls a vast majority of the potential job market greatly influences unaffiliated institutions. But it also speaks to how damming up a stream can wash away an institution's philosophical underpinning Takehiko Kariya argues, in the age of advanced globalization
5 TL;DR? Think "NBA Eligibility: One-and-Done."
5.Takehiko goes on to conclude that Japanese universities have allowed outside interests to dictate educational policy decisions, which, in turn have washed away any semblance of an effective vision, threatening to condemn the concept of a four-year liberal-arts-based Japanese education to little more than a joke, internationally. What matters to Japanese universities is how accepted students parlay their university contacts into job offers, often times cajoling faculty into passing students through classes based solely on their prospective job offers.
I've always been a fan of the theory of a liberal arts education, as a subscriber to the renaissance-humanist notion that a university should be about forming human beings, preparing them for life after academia, and not just mere technicians, number crunchers, or reporters. Acknowledging that liberal arts education isn't for everyone, I've also been an ardent supporter of technical and trade schools as valid alternatives (one of the few areas that the Japanese education system is vastly superior).
As someone who would like to think that my diploma signifies a level of competency and achievement of academic rigor, it's certainly disappointing to see institutions of higher learning make decisions that water down the value of something I worked so hard to obtain. And yet
6 Apart from the important issues of equity and accessibility.
6, the issue of the "value of a degree" is ultimately a matter cynicism.However, it's hard not to be greatly bothered when the system is built in such a way that it lets your students down.
His name invokes the image of a roaring river: strong and powerful, yet fluid and smooth. As the captain of the basketball team his senior year, those remain apt. His name meant "quick water" and he was just as quick in the class as he was on the court, always reading, always trying, always pushing forward, always among the first of his class.
But the title that he most closely associates with himself, now, is that of "浪人." Ronin: a class of masterless samurai, shamed either by the death or demotion of his feudal lord. The mark of a samurai who was unable to protect his master or his honor and now wanders Japan in inherited shame.
Literally meaning "wave man," the term came into usage during the Nara and Heian periods when it was applied to a feudal vassal who abandoned his master, invoking the image of one who has become socially adrift. It has come to be applied to both salarymen who have become separated from their corporations and high school graduates who have not been granted university enrollment.
For my student, and the thousands of students like him
7 The National Center for University Entrance Examinations notes that in 2011, 110,211 ronin students took the Uniform test again.
7, the body of his high school efforts were wiped away, casually brushed aside and accounted for as nothing. Rather than being accounted for as a person with potential skills to be tapped and developed, his worthiness was reduced to his ability to regurgitate information in a two hour block. For someone who had spent three years helping to build a community at Ichikashi, who helped lead the high school basketball team deep into the National Tournament, I remember feeling angry that the system had all but washed its hands of the kid. The system had nothing more to offer him until he passes the exam. Until he passes the entrance exam, he is condemned to 予備校-purgatory. At least until his will gives out.
Then again, it's never as dramatic as it seems. After all, this non-meritorious, exam-based system, he theoretically stands on equal footing with students taking the test for the first time this year. He'll just be put out a year. Of course, assuming that he can afford to put everything off for a year.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Constitution Day
We talked about it a couple of times when we were out in Kansai, and then an off-handed comment by Junpei seconded my suspicion: in temples and shrines, which both serve a religious and historical purpose
That isn't to say that there is a "right" or a "wrong" way to posture oneself (either as devout or touristy), but that there are many that haven't quite decided what they want to be and then, painfully, try to be everything.
As we wandered the sublime halls of Kennin-ji (建仁寺), Kyoto's first Zen Buddhist temple, located just south of Gion (祇園) in the Higashiyama district of Kyoto (東山区、京都), in breathy whispers laden with guilt and shame, Junpei said it most succinctly: "everything here is a replica."
Granted, the original temple (like most everything in Kyoto
There is never a sense in most of these temples that history remains a force of stagnation. In fact, at virtually every shrine and temple we visited3, there were large building projects dotting the landscape. Really, the Toyota museum of technology in Nagoya seemed to be the only place we went that wasn't under some form of renovation.
Rather, historical reverence and practical progress seem to go hand-in-hand in Kyoto, a place where one block you may be wandering through blinding Karaoke halls, a confusing maze of love hotels and UFO-arcades, and the next you're weaving your way through maiko-laced streets lined with sakura bunting, listening to the soft metallic clink of 5円 pieces clattering through slats into wooden offering boxes.
In 2002, for it's 800th anniversary
Curiously, Masaaki Uematsu, the administrative president of the now 810 year-old temple, was quoted as saying "it looks as if the dragons have been here for more than hundreds of years."
Personally, I find this tension fascinating. Everybody agrees that the history of a place (especially a place that's older than every currently existing codified constitutional government on the face of the earth) should be preserved. But how best should it be preserved?
Exactly as it appears today? Old, like Nijo Castle (二条城) and it's outlandish Ninomaru Palace Collection of 954 original 17th and 18th century Kanou-style woodcarvings and panel paintings
It's hard to know which model would best suit each
Merely that it probably shouldn't be like the Kyoto Imperial Palace, which is wracked with so much self-importance that they won't even let tourists indulge in any immersive experiences, keeping them at arm's length, allowing them to mill about the outskirts of the imperial grounds, despite the site being completely reconstituted in the late 19th century and repurposed a number of times since, once even as military headquarters during WWII.
In some instances "reproduction" is is a dark little whisper smilingly hinted about in the corners of museums amongst friends, akin to the speculative Hollywood titter of "natural" or "surgically enhanced." And this certainly was the buzzword of our tours through both the Imperial Palace and Kennin-ji, as we giddily snapped away with our cameras (a feat expressly--reverentially--forbidden in the more delicate settings of Ninomaru and Sanjusangendo [三十三間堂]
But it just didn't bother me at Kennin-ji.
In fact, I think I may put the fifteen minutes we spent contemplating the 潮音庭 near the top of my "would do again if I found myself back in Kyoto 9 months from now" list.
The Imperial Palace? Definitely not.
1 And are, presumably, both heavily invested in tourism for their fiscal survival.
1, there seems to be a strong divide between those temples and shrines who have "figured it out" and those that haven't.That isn't to say that there is a "right" or a "wrong" way to posture oneself (either as devout or touristy), but that there are many that haven't quite decided what they want to be and then, painfully, try to be everything.
As we wandered the sublime halls of Kennin-ji (建仁寺), Kyoto's first Zen Buddhist temple, located just south of Gion (祇園) in the Higashiyama district of Kyoto (東山区、京都), in breathy whispers laden with guilt and shame, Junpei said it most succinctly: "everything here is a replica."
Granted, the original temple (like most everything in Kyoto
2 Which, singularly, is the reason it was not firebombed by the allies in WWII.
2) was founded in 1202 AD. As an active temple, Kennin-ji has been managed with great care, attempting to cultivate the grounds true to it's Zen roots while remembering to grow with an eye towards future, with new buildings added to the site in the 16th and 18th centuries.There is never a sense in most of these temples that history remains a force of stagnation. In fact, at virtually every shrine and temple we visited3, there were large building projects dotting the landscape. Really, the Toyota museum of technology in Nagoya seemed to be the only place we went that wasn't under some form of renovation.
Rather, historical reverence and practical progress seem to go hand-in-hand in Kyoto, a place where one block you may be wandering through blinding Karaoke halls, a confusing maze of love hotels and UFO-arcades, and the next you're weaving your way through maiko-laced streets lined with sakura bunting, listening to the soft metallic clink of 5円 pieces clattering through slats into wooden offering boxes.
In 2002, for it's 800th anniversary
4 I'll let that sink in…
4, Kennin-ji celebrated by "plussing" their grounds with a breathtaking ceiling piece called "双竜図" ("Souruyuzu," or "Twin Dragons") by master painter Junsaku Koizumi (who was 77 years old at the time of completion). This piece, at a stunning 11.4 x 15.7m, was installed in the main hall, the last Rinzaishu temple in all of Japan to feature such art work.Curiously, Masaaki Uematsu, the administrative president of the now 810 year-old temple, was quoted as saying "it looks as if the dragons have been here for more than hundreds of years."
Personally, I find this tension fascinating. Everybody agrees that the history of a place (especially a place that's older than every currently existing codified constitutional government on the face of the earth) should be preserved. But how best should it be preserved?
Exactly as it appears today? Old, like Nijo Castle (二条城) and it's outlandish Ninomaru Palace Collection of 954 original 17th and 18th century Kanou-style woodcarvings and panel paintings
5 If their brochure is to be believed.
5 that speak to a legacy of craftsmanship that continues to cast its long shadow over culture today. Or as it was intended to be seen--and used--when it was first built, like Kennin-ji, with its painstakingly manicured Circle-Triangle-Square zen garden that just oozes with a transcendence that monks must have felt after their own arduous journeys from mountain villas to the Capitol of Tranquility and Peace. A living culture that doesn't just take you back 800 years but invites you to step into timelessnessIt's hard to know which model would best suit each
6 Except maybe in Nara where everything should probably just look old. And covered in deer poo.
6.Merely that it probably shouldn't be like the Kyoto Imperial Palace, which is wracked with so much self-importance that they won't even let tourists indulge in any immersive experiences, keeping them at arm's length, allowing them to mill about the outskirts of the imperial grounds, despite the site being completely reconstituted in the late 19th century and repurposed a number of times since, once even as military headquarters during WWII.
In some instances "reproduction" is is a dark little whisper smilingly hinted about in the corners of museums amongst friends, akin to the speculative Hollywood titter of "natural" or "surgically enhanced." And this certainly was the buzzword of our tours through both the Imperial Palace and Kennin-ji, as we giddily snapped away with our cameras (a feat expressly--reverentially--forbidden in the more delicate settings of Ninomaru and Sanjusangendo [三十三間堂]
7 A shrine famous for its 1001 statues of the Kannon, each with their 1000 arms… though, technically, they only have 42 arms, but if you multiply that by the 25-planes-of-existence that the Kannon exists in you get a nice, even 1000.
7).But it just didn't bother me at Kennin-ji.
In fact, I think I may put the fifteen minutes we spent contemplating the 潮音庭 near the top of my "would do again if I found myself back in Kyoto 9 months from now" list.
The Imperial Palace? Definitely not.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Midori no Hi
さしぶり Nick,
I'm closing in on my sixth load of laundry this weekend. Granted, in addition to washing all of the sheets you used, I decided to wash and store my duvet covers and comforters for the summer. Then again, four of those loads were certainly of the clothing variety.
Normally this wouldn't have been a remarkable story
It turned out that two or three water processing plants in Chiba and Saitama and Gunma (the prefectures just north of us) discovered elevated levels of formaldehyde in the Tone River. According to one of the guys in my class, he postulated that the chemical chlorination process bonded with a pollutant from a factory up-river, producing elevated levels of formaldehyde down stream that are too high to be dealt with by mere activated-carbon treatments.
So, until the source of the contamination could be discovered (and stemmed) and levels be curbed, processing would be halted.
It wasn't more than an hour after that announcement was made than the McDonalds that I had eaten at had closed up for the day
This left me in a lurch. I very well could have gone home to wait it out: maybe bought something microwavable at 7-11 to eat for dinner and just avoid using the toilet in my apartment… or just plan not to flush. Rather, I decided to stick around some of the malls, banking on the fact that if they were going to stay open it would be because they all have ready access to a secondary water supply.
Little known fact--well, little known to me--is that most of these new malls are built on sites called "Smart Cities." Smart Cities are built with a number of environmental issues in mind
One of Kashiwanoha's charter principles is its commitment to being a fully self-sufficient campus in the case of an emergency. The town produces its own energy, grows its own food and manages its own artesian well in the event that there is a catastrophe that severely limits any assistance from prefectural or federal governments.
Anyway, I ended up staying around Kashiwanoha and Ootakanomori for the remainder of the day, eating dinner, walking around the mall shopping for "CoolBiz" dress shirts, and even considering taking in a movie
But, in no time (and after a little more googling), the water was back on and my dirty laundry was not the worse for wear.
It left me wondering how I would fare in the advent of an emergency, whether it was something as mildly inconvenient as "no water" for as many as two or three days, or something more drastic like "no Pepsi, all Coke," and whether I would make it to LaLaPort on foot. So I took the opportunity to check and replenish the emergency-preparedness bags and water bottles that Geoff and Mickie had installed around the house.
Oh, and sorry for not writing for the past few weeks
I'm closing in on my sixth load of laundry this weekend. Granted, in addition to washing all of the sheets you used, I decided to wash and store my duvet covers and comforters for the summer. Then again, four of those loads were certainly of the clothing variety.
Normally this wouldn't have been a remarkable story
1 Well, normally that would be because I would really only do two loads of laundry instead of six.
1, except that I received this ominous text early Saturday afternoon:
"We might be out of water soon. They found some poison or something."Luckily, at that time, I was already well out of the house, having to teach an adult class in Kashiwanoha (柏の葉). Well, technically at that point I had headed out to Kashiwanoha for an early lunch and to do some shopping at LaLaPort. But that also allowed me some time to kick up some Google-dust about the issue, in between chapters of Mockingjay.
It turned out that two or three water processing plants in Chiba and Saitama and Gunma (the prefectures just north of us) discovered elevated levels of formaldehyde in the Tone River. According to one of the guys in my class, he postulated that the chemical chlorination process bonded with a pollutant from a factory up-river, producing elevated levels of formaldehyde down stream that are too high to be dealt with by mere activated-carbon treatments.
So, until the source of the contamination could be discovered (and stemmed) and levels be curbed, processing would be halted.
It wasn't more than an hour after that announcement was made than the McDonalds that I had eaten at had closed up for the day
2 No お水: no おビッグマック.
2 and the FamilyMart across the way had sold out of bottled water.This left me in a lurch. I very well could have gone home to wait it out: maybe bought something microwavable at 7-11 to eat for dinner and just avoid using the toilet in my apartment… or just plan not to flush. Rather, I decided to stick around some of the malls, banking on the fact that if they were going to stay open it would be because they all have ready access to a secondary water supply.
Little known fact--well, little known to me--is that most of these new malls are built on sites called "Smart Cities." Smart Cities are built with a number of environmental issues in mind
3 Among which are Energy Optimization and Environmentally Friendly Urban Development.
3, but the most impressive of which is their eye on Emergency Sustenance. One of Kashiwanoha's charter principles is its commitment to being a fully self-sufficient campus in the case of an emergency. The town produces its own energy, grows its own food and manages its own artesian well in the event that there is a catastrophe that severely limits any assistance from prefectural or federal governments.
Anyway, I ended up staying around Kashiwanoha and Ootakanomori for the remainder of the day, eating dinner, walking around the mall shopping for "CoolBiz" dress shirts, and even considering taking in a movie
4 Until I saw that they were really only showing things like "Family Tree" (The Descendants), "Terumae-Romae," and "Space Brothers," none of which were "The Avengers" or "Hunger Games."
4. I got home a little earlier than I would have hoped, only to hear an overly complicated set of instructions being blasted over the Municipal Public Address system:
[17:40] 北千葉浄水場では，午後 5時30分に江戸川からの取水を再開しました。柏市では午後11時前後には復旧できる見通しとなりました。なお，本日の応急給水については，水道が復旧するまで行います。More or less, I assumed that this was talking about our water, either being reinstated or forestalled.
But, in no time (and after a little more googling), the water was back on and my dirty laundry was not the worse for wear.
It left me wondering how I would fare in the advent of an emergency, whether it was something as mildly inconvenient as "no water" for as many as two or three days, or something more drastic like "no Pepsi, all Coke," and whether I would make it to LaLaPort on foot. So I took the opportunity to check and replenish the emergency-preparedness bags and water bottles that Geoff and Mickie had installed around the house.
Oh, and sorry for not writing for the past few weeks
5 Nee, month.
5. I'll get around to those stories sooner than later. I promise. I have a "tickler" folder seven entries deep. I just haven't figured out how to work them into interesting-enough stories. Sorry. But it's time to get back to reading: Hunger Game of Thrones. A Katniss always pays her debts…
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Shunbun no Hi
Hey, Nick,
While on a road trip last week, while experimenting with my Japanese vocabulary, I learned a new saying: "猫を被る"
And though Japan may seem to have quite a favorable relationship with the Felis catus
Early in Japanese folklore it was believed that cats were capable of transforming into monsters. And though my mother could attest to that possibility still being quite true with even modern house cats, there were a fair number of evil-doings in such stories attributed to the " 化け猫," or the "Goblin Cat," a youkai (妖怪) that was known to terrorize households with their supernatural abilities
And so, according to folklore, cats were(/are) monsters capable of transforming into more terrible monsters capable of terrorizing families for generations through deception and burning things (+/- zombies). Thusly, someone who "puts on a cat" (or wears a cat-mask, I suppose) is someone who is putting on an air of placidness that hides a terrible potential for going wild. Sort of like a "wolf in sheep's clothing."
Similarly, other resources suggest a more situational "wearing of the cat" in "借りてきた猫," or "borrowing a cat," which suggests that the person is only behaving well mannered contrary to his nature in circumstances and situations that are unfamiliar and uncomfortable. So pretty much like everybody in Japan.
Other more interesting "cat" sayings are "猫の額" ("a cat's forehead," meaning "a tiny space"), "猫の子一匹いない" ("not even a kitten around," which sounds like "nothing was stirring, not even a mouse"), "猫の手も借りたい" ("to want to borrow a cat's paw," or to be so busy you'll even take a cat's assistance), and "猫も杓子も" ("cats and ladies," which is akin to "every Tom, Dick and Harry").
All that to say I went to Ibaraki (茨城県) last week as a farewell-trip of sorts for one of the teachers who has always taken special interest in making sure the TSCA ALTs are feeling at home. It turns out that at least every 10 years a teacher has to change schools (3 for administrators). This is her 10th year so she'll be moving to a different school at the start of the new academic year next week so a few of us went out to have some fun: one last fling of sorts.
We went to Ooarai (大洗), ate at this really famous kaitenzushi place and followed that up with a trip to their also famous aquarium (the irony is apparently lost on the Japanese people).
While on a road trip last week, while experimenting with my Japanese vocabulary, I learned a new saying: "猫を被る"
1 "Neko o kaburu," which literally translates into, "he wears a cat on his head," or more simply, "to put on the cat."
1. This, apparently, is a disapproving statement implicating someone who is normally wild and outrageous of pretending to be polite and mild-mannered to impress or placate the expectations of someone who needs to be impressed.And though Japan may seem to have quite a favorable relationship with the Felis catus
2 With the 招き猫 (maneki-neko) and everything.
2, this saying harkens back to a time when Japanese people were more suspicious of their fine feline friends, much like it's Western/European counterparts.Early in Japanese folklore it was believed that cats were capable of transforming into monsters. And though my mother could attest to that possibility still being quite true with even modern house cats, there were a fair number of evil-doings in such stories attributed to the " 化け猫," or the "Goblin Cat," a youkai (妖怪) that was known to terrorize households with their supernatural abilities
3 Wikipedia conveniently lists common traits of the type of cat that qualifies for such a Pokemon-esque bake-evolution, and, likewise, we should all be a little more wary of Milo.
3. Among the bake-nekos more illustrious powers are walking on its hind legs, menacing and eating sleeping humans, zombification and shapeshifting, in addition to flying and talking. The bake-neko (and all cats who have the potential for promotion to bake-neko status) are revered/feared akin to the kitsune (狐) and tanuki (狸) (which are responsible for "moshi-moshi" and other more curious Japanese habits).And so, according to folklore, cats were(/are) monsters capable of transforming into more terrible monsters capable of terrorizing families for generations through deception and burning things (+/- zombies). Thusly, someone who "puts on a cat" (or wears a cat-mask, I suppose) is someone who is putting on an air of placidness that hides a terrible potential for going wild. Sort of like a "wolf in sheep's clothing."
Similarly, other resources suggest a more situational "wearing of the cat" in "借りてきた猫," or "borrowing a cat," which suggests that the person is only behaving well mannered contrary to his nature in circumstances and situations that are unfamiliar and uncomfortable. So pretty much like everybody in Japan.
Other more interesting "cat" sayings are "猫の額" ("a cat's forehead," meaning "a tiny space"), "猫の子一匹いない" ("not even a kitten around," which sounds like "nothing was stirring, not even a mouse"), "猫の手も借りたい" ("to want to borrow a cat's paw," or to be so busy you'll even take a cat's assistance), and "猫も杓子も" ("cats and ladies," which is akin to "every Tom, Dick and Harry").
All that to say I went to Ibaraki (茨城県) last week as a farewell-trip of sorts for one of the teachers who has always taken special interest in making sure the TSCA ALTs are feeling at home. It turns out that at least every 10 years a teacher has to change schools (3 for administrators). This is her 10th year so she'll be moving to a different school at the start of the new academic year next week so a few of us went out to have some fun: one last fling of sorts.
We went to Ooarai (大洗), ate at this really famous kaitenzushi place and followed that up with a trip to their also famous aquarium (the irony is apparently lost on the Japanese people).
Sunday, March 11, 2012
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