I Am Completely Serious

A woman warned my mom and her colleagues that she had “written to Governor Sarah Palin” about her situation, so they’d better be on their best behavior with her. Inspired by this story, today I wrote a letter to Black and Decker.

I lost the cord to my rice cooker, see. I emailed them once before about buying a new one, and they responded saying it wasn’t “user replaceable.” (It’s a cord.) So today I wrote a vaguely threatening letter about how rice cookers were not easily recyclable, and President-Elect Obama was totally going to get on companies who behaved in such an environmentally-irresponsible manner, so they’d better sell me a friggin’ cord.

(This approach has actually worked for me in the past. In college I wrote a snippy email to Terra Chips about how there weren’t enough chips in the bag (there still aren’t), and they sent me, without comment, something like $10 or $15 worth of coupons.)

As I was leaving the Waffle House where I had dinner, I heard one guy saying to another, in a tone of faint astonishment, “She was polite, wasn’t she? Really polite.”

I’ve been tearing up at little things all day, and I cried through his whole speech. I wasn’t sure I’d see this in my lifetime. I feel like an idiot now, and I’m okay with that.

Mom and I have voted. We are in rural eastern Kentucky, so there are no lines. One of the women working the polls said, “We’ve had 279 people in already! That’s more than we usually get at all!”

A small dog who looked old about enough to vote sat in front of a machine that wasn’t being used, with the look of one who is considering his decision with great care.

“So we’ll take our daughter, me, you, Faraday, and a pie, so that’s six of us counting the pie.”

DAD: See, the thing about this place is, they always mess up my order here! They always mess it up! So I want you to order for me, in Spanish, and see if that -

PAM (WHO IS MEXICIAN-AMERICAN): Okay, what do you want?

DAD: Aqui, aqui - I want aqui - this burrito, aqui burrito - but I want it with meat and cheese only -

PAM’S SON: See, this is his problem, he goes, “I want a burrito with just meat and cheese” -

PAM: You can’t do that.

DAD: Why can’t I do that?! It’s what I want! I make your son here order for me, and he just doesn’t help. I don’t want all this - vegetables and stuff - no rice - nada rice - nada rice-o, nada guacamole-o, nada -

ME: Dad, I will absolutely kill you.

DAD: - nada beans-o - no, why not?

PAM’S SON: Because that’s not a burrito! That’s not what a burrito is!

ME: That’s like saying you want a BLT with nothing but bacon.

PAM, WITH AN EXPRESSION OF INCALCULABLE DISGUST: No, it’s like saying you want a BLT with nothing but lettuce.

DAD: I just want a burrito with just meat and cheese. Nothing else, nada. Oh, here he is - order-o por favor! Uno burrito nada! Uno beer-o? Tu tienes mucho dinero!*

ME, BECOMING MORE SOUTHERN UNDER STRESS: Dad! I swear to god!

WAITER: *looks patiently at Pam’s son, clearly completely used to this*

-

MOM: Aw, don’t chew on the shoelaces, Gandalf! *politely takes the shoe from the dog and places it slightly out of reach*

ME: You know, you should probably like whap him, so he understands it’s wrong.

MOM, WITH GREAT INDIGNATION: I’m not going to whap him!

-

* I have no idea in what context Dad acquired this phrase, but it’s his Official Spanish Sentence, which he brings out whenever the Spanish language is discussed.

People actually update their blogs while I’m awake here. I can’t get used to it.

Today I was in a doctor’s waiting room while Papaw got his eyes looked at (sibling who isn’t here - he can officially drive again! He’s very pleased about that, he thinks I don’t slow down enough at turns), and got to hear an elderly couple enthusiastically cheering the woman who called Obama an Arab. They felt the term to be a nicely cutting insult for a non-white liberal-type. One thing that’s relaxing about not being fluent in a language is that it’s harder to identify the racism. One exists permanently in a hazy fog of “Did that biker guy say something offensive? I wish he’d enunciate clearer so I can look up if I don’t want to sit next to him.” I regrettably speak Kentuckian, and the waiting room was too crowded to move.

PSA: Nobody ever buy something Food City labels “kimchi.” I don’t think they know what that means.

No idea yet when this would start or where it would be but JOB OFFER YES

The email arrived during the period when, for the first time since I got home, I sat down and actually did some work on one of my translation projects. OKAY, I GET IT, I WILL LAY OFF THE WARCRAFT A LITTLE.

Lately I have felt upon me the irresistible urge to make a bad decision. This happens to me sometimes, I recognize it. Not knowing what form the decision might take if left to sort itself out, I chose to direct it into something with an already-known impact. I got a World of Warcraft account. I am a level-15 Orc Hunter named Calper on Khaz’Goroth. My pet is a pig, and I have decided that I want a Kodo mount. Accordingly I am going through the low-level Mulgore quests to gain reputation with Thunder Bluff.

I have been sufficiently Orcish the past three days as to injure my right arm. My elbow is doing this thing.

Where the cashier gets openly angry when you say you don’t need a bag.

We went to see thegeekgene in Virginia, where she gave me a cookie, I unavoidably got sick again because there was a fajita, and I accidentally bought apricot kernel oil. (The store clerks all looked very sad because their old building had burned down and thus they were in a new one.)

Then we went to see elongated_tito in New York, where she presently resides with the Aunt and Uncle who have strong opinions about dog training and furnishings. They have acquired a gigantic and froofy new house since last year. I kept getting lost in it, it was like an Olive Garden that had developed a low cunning and a taste for human blood. Their whippet took my bowler hat away from me and waved it in the air, taunting, while I struggled to escape their massive couch, capable of devouring anything, even coffee table books about rock gardens, and hope.

We went to a restaurant where I had some pretty good udon with octopus. I hadn’t realized there was octopus in there, Dad got upset when I went, “they cooked this octopus just right.”

Today I went out to lunch with Papaw, ate more grease than I’ve consumed in the past six months combined, and got extremely sick. I do not wish to describe the manner in which I became sick in any great detail (nor would you wish to hear it), but suffice to say that, in all my years of eating things I shouldn’t (chocolate yogurt, takoyaki from a vending machine, a bug), I have never before suffered the condition I did with such severity. Sudden dietary changes are risky.

- Someone CUT IN FRONT OF ME IN A LINE omg.

- Suddenly I can’t understand what the heck anyone’s saying. I can’t read any of the menus on this computer, either. (There’s wi-fi, but I’m in the computer lounge because I can’t find a plug for my computer. The computer lounge smells mysteriously of Pantene.)

- Female service personnel are not all wearing makeup, and are not constantly smiling in a way that probably hurts. The men smile less, too.

- There are female tarmac workers and security guards. And one of the security guards snapped at me. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but her intent was clear. (Her intent was “don’t stand there while you put your stuff back in your bag, I want my nice clean table back.”)

- When Japanese women facetiously hit a guy who’s flirting with them, they usually back off and miss at the last second with a sort of gesture that sends them off at an angle, making it look like they made themselves dizzy with the gesture. I saw a Korean woman actually whap a guy earlier. This startled me.

- I don’t know if this is a Korean cultural thing or a coincidence, but I’ve seen two women sharing food/drinks. Like, two straws in the same smoothie. Is this usual?

- The guys act pretty much the same except louder, I think. I’ve noticed a bunch of younger guys affecting this slow, too-deep voice (what’s the opposite of a falsetto?) - Kimiho-san does that, I thought it was just a thing of his. Apparently not. I keep hearing this and looking around to see if it’s him.

- Seriously, it is totally weird how I can’t understand what anyone’s saying. The intonation is too much like Japanese! It would be easier if I was in China or Taiwan…

I need to get off this computer now. There’s a K-drama playing on a TV over there where some guy keeps randomly breaking into perfect midwestern-accented English, I’m gonna go see if I can figure out what’s up with that.

I am at the hotel in Nagoya, all prepared to leave in the morning. I am stressed out about this, so I may walk over to the airport (the hotel is attached, but far enough away from the tarmac that you can’t hear the planes) and buy chocolate in a while. I am American and female, this is what I do in these situations.

The hotel room came with an amusing striped nightshirt. I will probably actually wear it tonight, as I think I put my pajamas in the big huge suitcase I don’t want to reopen.

I ate oxtail porridge at a Korean place for dinner, because my one desire in this life is to HORRIFY MY FAMILY. (Apparently it’s actually beef.) Also because it looked good in the picture. It was okay, but kind of bland, so I dumped in the little bowl of spicy sauce they gave me. I don’t know if that’s what that was for? It didn’t really help all that much. I think I will google around for interesting-looking Korean foods, and then tomorrow see if they number among the amenities offered by the Incheon airport. (From looking around online, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably too risky for me to leave the airport unless my departing flight gets delayed at least an hour.)

There was a graduation ceremony yesterday, at which I wore a tiara and held a pink scepter with a little heart covered in fake pearls. We had to give speeches, and mine in its entirety was “The Princess has no need to give a speech!” (「姫様はスピーチをする必要がない！」) This was done largely at the instigation of Sensu-sensei and Kuma-sensei, who acquired these items for me at the 100-yen-shop last term, because I am The Princess. It did not appear that they had alerted any of the rest of the faculty to this.

Last day of classes, and I just now finished the last of my job interviews while-I’m-in-Japan-at-least. I can now panic about packing instead.

I have a vague desire to go purchase gyoza and cake, but also an irrational fear of adding to the pile of recycling I need to take out in the morning. I just got this stuff organized.

I had a job interview today, and made it back in time for most of last period. My class and another one had been divided into groups last week to perform little skits, and I got into the room just before my group’s taping. I did not have my script, had forgotten we were doing this, and was trying to eat a pastry.

Atom-sensei gave me her copy of the script, so I heroically draped my suit jacket over my shoulders in the manner of a drunken sarariman (much to the dismay of the rest of the group) and read my lines. We got the award for Best Performance, which was a small paper bag of junk food and a certificate signed by a teacher who hadn’t felt like showing up for this.

I felt very proud of myself until I went to my elective, where I discovered I was supposed to have prepared a story to recite. (I have been busy, okay?) I couldn’t think of anything. I paused a lot and told the story about the time mysterious strangers at the Kentucky State Capital kept stopping me and asking me about my “squirrel friend.”

And now I have another job interview in about forty minutes.

My scanner feels it can no longer devote itself properly to the task of scanning documents into my computer. It has decided to focus on its art. When plugged in, it sings heartwrenching songs about its five brothers named Padraic, which can be heard from both neighboring apartments.

My immediate reaction to this discovery was relief, because it’s one less thing I have to -ing pack.

Check-Out Girl: Here’s your change.
Gaijin: Thank you. Uh, I need to turn a jar of coins into bills. Can I do that anywhere here?
Check-Out Girl: Oh, go over to the service counter.
Gaijin: Over there? Okay, thank you.

Gaijin: I wanted to turn this jar of coins into bills. Can I do that here?
Service Counter Girl: Oh… that’s a lot…
Gaijin: Yeah, sorry. And I’ve actually got a second one…
Service Counter Girl: …Sorry, but you should probably go to a bank or a post office.
Gaijin: I can do that at the post office?
Service Counter Girl: Yeah. The nearest one is -
Gaijin: No, it’s okay, I know where it is.
Service Counter Girl: Sorry about that.
Gaijin: No, it’s okay. Thank you.

I realized after having these conversations that I’d gotten through them without pausing to think about what I was saying or confusing anyone. No, this is a big accomplishment.

Is a six-hour layover enough to leave the Incheon airport and do anything in Seoul? Or will much of that time be taken up with customs and stuff? Apparently Americans don’t need to mess with visas, but it seems like I might end up standing in lines anyway… (I’ve never had a layover outside the US before.)

The suspicion that I’m going to get an offer for a job I only sort of want on Friday, when it’ll be next week before I hear anything from the people with the job I really want. (I’m 90% sure the guys I talked to today want to hire me, but the interviewers aren’t the ones who make the final decision - there’s a shadowy, mysterious Board out there somewhere, possibly they’re the Shin-Ra, and thus on the Plate, I don’t know.) Even were I unethically-inclined that way, it would get my visa in trouble if I said “yes” to Company A and then went with Company B if I get an offer.

It’s obviously not the worst problem to have, but still. (And now watch as they both reject me with extreme prejudice and anime smilies.)

On the plus side, the guy who conducted most of the interview gave me an explanation as to why, when I’ve been interviewed by native Japanese people, they’ve always gotten kind of stiff and weird when I’ve asked if they have any specific procedures for dealing with kids with discipline problems. His reasoning was that Japanese people don’t like to think that “good kids”* ever act up in class, and therefore dislike the idea of outright disciplinary action - or at least dislike discussing it with someone they feel to be an outsider, even one they’re considering, you know, hiring as a teacher.

The default tactic for kids who act up is assuming that social pressure from the other kids will calm them down eventually. When that fails, there’s no backup system in place. And by this guy’s estimation, it’s failing now more than it did a decade ago, and was failing a decade ago more than it did in the 80’s.

This actually syncs pretty well with my observations - now that I think about it, even Doom-sensei and Sensu-sensei, who generally will talk about anything and have spent a lot of time abroad, have issues discussing anything approaching “kids behaving badly.” Doom-sensei once got really uncomfortable when I asked how the Japanese school system deals with disabled kids. And I’m pretty sure the Master’s she’s working on’s in Sociology.

So maybe it’s not the way I ask that’s rude, but the question itself that’s off-limits.

-

* And obviously there are only good kids in Japanese schools. The bad kids go to other schools. Schools in other dimensions, like in After School Nightmare and Drifting Classroom. (And now I totally bet that the relative prevalence of “weird school” stories in manga relative to in Western YA fiction is a reaction against social uniformity in Japanese school culture. And maybe the stigma against scolding kids is why manga loves angry, over-the-top abusive teachers so much, and why you so rarely see the “good” teachers get angry at anyone for anything. (Mayu from Fruits Basket seems intended to be read as being unusually harsh on her students, and seriously? She’s a creampuff. She’s got Kyo freaking out and climbing out windows and stuff, and does she ever do anything about it beyond making fun of his hair? (Though maybe this is partly gender-based - there’s a good-guy male teacher in early volumes of Yu Yu Hakusho who gets to yell at Yusuke…)))

Deeply unscientific survey! Here are links to a bunch of images of a Second Life avatar’s face, with different skin textures applied: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

I would be extremely happy if people who had time went through them and told me in the comments on the LiveJournal (rather than on the website, which is behaving badly) 1) what ethnicity each one “reads” as to you, as short or long or vague or specific as you want, 2) optionally, some kind of description of your own racial/cultural background (like, “white American,” “1/2-generation Taiwanese-Canadian”). This is for a Top-Secret Grumpy Research Project about Second Life skins.

Today I finally did my laundry and grocery shopping. I think it’s been three weeks since I did laundry? I had some really good green tea ice cream at a restaurant a few weeks ago, so I bought some at the store. It turns out that not all green tea ice creams are necessarily edible.