These Things are Unrelated

Editorial note: After a night of more chu-hi's, karaoke and zombies, I sat down at my computer and - subscribing to the Ernest Hemingway school of "write drunk, edit sober" - I punched out the following. Anything above the triple asterisks appears mostly in its original form, except I looked for embarrassing grammatical and spelling errors and did my best to get rid of them.

Addendum to Editorial Note: This post is pretty heavy on text and I don't shut up for a good long while. If you came looking for more macros and don't care to hear me wax rhapsodic about my life's little inanities, I suggest you move on now.

The fun continues at Casa de Toroiaa (Troyer is annoying to say in Japanese if you can't tell). This apartment continues to give me grief, but at least I've had some other fun times to counteract it and also to give me an excuse not to be here.

For a couple of days I shared my apartment with a visitor. He was relatively quiet - came and went as he pleased - and for awhile I didn't even notice this habit of his. I'm not normally a cuddler, but he may have attempted intimacy a couple of times while I was asleep without my noticing. There was also that annoying tendency of his to stick to dark corners, but I was so busy doing homework that after awhile I must have kind of let him do whatever. Then there was that whole hard ectoskeleton-and-whole-so-many-arms-that-it's-not-a-matter-of-fending-off-one-overly-curious-pair thing that really came between us. I had to kill him. That's right: I shared my apartment with a cockroach.

Ugh, I feel slightly ill just thinking about it. For a couple of days afterward I would think it and I would visibly shudder and contort my face... probably scared more than a few Japanese people walking around everyday now that I'm thinking about it. I found that little fucker scuttling about my room on Tuesday night and I about flipped my shit. I must've been shuffling through my purse on the floor completely unaware the cockroach was nearby because the next thing I knew the bastard ran across the room (and when I say that, I mean about 2 feet... space is hard to come by around here) and TOUCHED MY GODDAMNED TOES along the way. I screeched like a little fucking girl and then proceeded to stare at the offending insect for a good minute or two, hoping that my sheer disbelief at having such a disgusting creature (suck it, hippies, you'd feel the same way if you had a cockroach wanting to be your new roommate) living in my apartment would somehow make it not really be there. Maybe I'm spoiled this way, but I have NEVER had a cockroach in my living quarters (plenty of silverfish in New York and those things... UGH, a cold chill ran up my spine imaging them wriggling around the floor, or the fact that after you whack them with a newspaper a good portion of their legs continue to twitch long after their vitals have been smashed into a gooey paste), but they're not rare in Japan and there have been a couple of students at IUC that have already complained about cockroaches, or giant bugs of the like. But being the sissy that I am, I shrieked, and couldn't figure out WTF to do since I knew that if I killed it, I would also have to clean it up. There is NOTHING I hate more than the crunch of an exoskeleton in a paper towel when you are cleaning it off the floor... NOTHING. Except clowns. And zombies! (Say what you will, but it's how the world is going to end. I have an irrational fear of the irrational, and all zombie movies come from that ethos. Where does the epidemic start?? No one knows, and the theory that they came from rage-infected monkeys turned out to be bull--)

So anyway, that little fucker touched me and that pretty much spelled death for him. In recent years, I have taken up a policy of not killing bugs unless they really inconvenience me in some way. I've let many a spider, ant or fly live because they weren't doing much more than trying to survive. I don't feel like I'm in any position to decide whether another creature deserves to live or die considering the fact I sometimes have trouble dressing myself in the morning and probably wouldn't last more than 20 minutes in the woods alone (survival skills! I don't have them) let alone be one of the last standing in a zombie apocalypse. Mosquitoes I of course swat on a regular basis (damn I miss Seattle and its mosquito-lessness), and now I can add "Cockroach Killer" to my rarefied list. Mind you, I also found this cockroach at about midnight as I was getting ready for bed (I think I was digging around in my purse for chapstick or something so that I don't get chapped lips while asleep... I prepare for these things, OK?), and the shot of adrenaline I got from seeing it made my eyes snap open and I was instantly awake again. I realized I'd either have to kill it or run the risk of it running onto my face while I was asleep... a chance I was not willing to take. I hunted that thing down, though it was able to hide itself in a pair of jeans that were lying on the floor; of course, when I went to move them because I saw it had gone in the jeans' general direction, the cockroach fell out SQUARE ON MY FOOT AND I LET OUT A CHAIN OF CURSES TO WAKE THE DEAD (OH GOD THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING) as it ran across the room again. Eventually I cornered it, and as it tried to make its way up the wall, I was able to whack it down with the folder of manuals my rental company had left me and eventually its guts were SPLAT on my floor. I'm pretty sure I yelled DIE FUCKER DIE a couple of times in the process. Flustered, I sat down on the edge of my bed and knew that eventually I'd have to clean the mess up. I also threw that folder outside not having any paper towels yet to clean it, and it's remained out there ever since. There will be no visible bug guts in my apartment: that's the rule, along with no pants.

It's just been a non-stop parade of bullshit with this apartment, and I'm hopeful that cockroach wasn't like the equivalent of a Princess Buttercup and now I've got a mark on my head for a fucking invasion. I went in to pay my rent this week, and the woman that oversees my account asked about my laundry machine and my overhead light, and then made the nominal gesture of inquiring into whether there were any other problems with the apartment. She underestimated my American-ness and my sheer terror at finding a cockroach and worrying more would come. I said something along the lines of 「この間ゴキブリが入っちゃって、もう殺しちゃったんですが、それは。。。普通のことですか？」, which in my version of blunt Japanese translates to "there was a cockroach that came into my room the other day, and I've already killed it, but is this a common occurrence?" The woman looked flustered and was like... bugs happen, but in the winter time, you don't have to worry! I feel better already.

* * * End Transmission * * *

And that's about the point where I got tired and passed out for the night. I had every intention of trying to do a write-up of the last week, but you know, at 2 in the morning your mental capacity goes a little bit wonky. But yes, that cockroach freaked me the fuck out, and even as I'm sitting at my desk right now, I keep half expecting to find another one. I'd take to wearing shoes around the apartment so that at least if another one decides to run over my toes, I'll be protected, but you know, this is Japan. The first thing I saw when I moved into my apartment was a sign put at the door that tells you to make sure to take your shoes off or face eviction. I don't know how they would keep track of something like that, but you know, it gives you an idea of how serious they are about it.

So aside from the cockroach, this week started our afternoon class, though really we only had 2 days of it since Monday was set aside for revering the aged, Thursday was all about bringing in the fall (and boy did Japan ever do that, but I'll get to that in a second), and Wednesdays we don't have afternoon classes. They've really been easing us into a full schedule, which is nice, but I can see already how busy I'll be getting my work done every afternoon. My teacher is another funny guy, though in a different way from my morning sensei; the afternoon sensei is just one big grab bag of idiosyncrasies - from his mannerisms to the way he speaks and gesticulates, he's a very unique guy - and he's fun to watch. The atmosphere is again pretty relaxed and we joke around a lot. For all the work we have to do, it is definitely worth it and I'm glad I have a good group of teachers to see us through.

Other than school this week, I've gotten some home-cooked Chinese food (it was AWESOME considering that my diet consists mostly of curry rice), and took care of mundane details like rent and my registration card. And then there was Thursday. Probably just over a week ago we got an e-mail from our classmate about a BBQ his Japanese friend was planning for Thursday the 23rd since it was a holiday. I replied in the affirmative, but as this week progressed, it became clearer that Thursday was going to be a rainy one, but with 47 people saying they were going to attend, the BBQ stayed on and we also got this message forwarded to us "雨が降る心配がありますが、橋の下に広いスペースがありますので雨に当たらずにBBQができるかと思いますので決行します." Basically it says there are worries about rain, but we'll be in a wide space under the bridge and protected by the rain, so we'll still be able to do the BBQ. Of course, I didn't ready this very closely at the time and was like "OK, you're the boss."

Thursday morning it didn't do very much; I think there was one period of heavy rain, and then it got quiet and I had my fingers crossed that it would stay that way. I was less worried about getting drenched (oh how little I knew at that point) as opposed to getting to the BBQ and then on the way home finding out the tracks had gotten flooded out and the trains were canceled. It happens around here and I really didn't want to get stranded out in the middle of nowhere. But I got myself up early on Thursday morning to attempt to do some work, and by 11 o'clock I was on my way out to the BBQ site. It rained off and on for awhile (one period of a serious downpour), and eventually I found some other IUC kids on the same train and we eventually got to the station near the BBQ. Somewhere along the way I heard that we were going to be under a bridge (again, I did not read the Japanese email very closely... though come to think of it, the English one probably said something about it too, but that's how observant I can be) and we kind of dawdled at the station for a bit because the leader of the BBQ wasn't really sure of where to go. Of course, when we actually start moving it starts to pour rain (mind you, a bunch of people were carrying giant trays of meat, noodles, and supplies they'd picked up from Costco - yes they exist here - that morning), which turned out to be a portent for the rest of our day.

Turns out that the "bridge" we were going to be under was actually more like a train trestle; we were by a river bank in the corner tucked away where the train tracks meet the ground again. Though they were tracks running in both directions, they were two different spans; therefore there was a gap of space in this bridge, leaving us all the more exposed to the elements. Also, it seems people had been holding us a place under the bridge since 7am and there were a whole bunch of other groups of people having similar cook-outs. I remembered seeing something on NHK about groups doing what we were about to, though I think it was in Shibuya or something and they were outlawed. But anyway, after helping to lay out the tarps for our stuff (which kept blowing up in the air due to the fact this space under the bridge was more like a wind tunnel), a couple of us headed back toward the station to pick up another IUC student and to also hit up a grocery store to bring back beer, chu-his and other beverages.

When we got back, the group had moved to another space that had been vacated by weaker-willed folks that looked a bit drier, and they had started heating up the grills, which were having trouble keeping a flame due to the fact the wind was still whipping around. By this time, the rain was pretty constant, and it was blowing in from the side of our little shelter. It reminded me of the scene in Forrest Gump where he talks about how they encountered every kind of rain there ever was during the monsoon season in Vietnam, including "rain that came in from the side." It felt a lot colder than the weather report had posted; at least when I had read it that morning, it said low-70s, so I figured I was OK with a rain jacket and an umbrella, but the wind made it feel at least 10 degrees colder. And of course since the day before had been summer's last gasp with blaring sun and high humidity, many people were still in shorts, t-shirts and sandals and I can only imagine how cold they were. I had thought about bringing a sweatshirt that morning for maybe a second, but decided against it... I definitely regretted it that afternoon.

The Japanese in attendance heavily outweighed the American presence (I think they were like 8 of us), which gave some opportunity to practice Japanese skills. However, I'm already bad enough striking up conversation in English, and it's even more awkward in Japanese. And even if I can think of something to say, sometimes it doesn't translate so well and my interlocutor just kind of laughs politely while I curse my poor speaking skills. Awkwardness knows no linguistic bounds. But you know, eventually we all had something to drink and people loosened up a bit. It helped to warm us up, and also distract us from the sheets of rain falling all around, and I think by the end of the day most people had a really good time. There was plenty of food to go around (including donuts... though I apparently stood there with a piece of glaze on my face for awhile until someone pointed it out. Ugh, the sugary equivalent of broccoli in your teeth, I suppose), and we stood and shot the shit for a couple of hours. I also had an interesting moment going out to the public restroom and realizing I hadn't brought tissues with me (they sometimes don't provide toilet paper), I awkwardly asked a woman and her child to borrow some since she came with a whole box. Never underestimate preparedness.

Eventually the guy in charge said it was time to そろそろ, meaning to gradually make our way back home, but that really lasted another hour, as there was cheesecake passed out for someone's birthday and then people began exchanging phone numbers. If you're unfamiliar with Japanese cell phones, they come with an infrared scanner that allows you to automatically exchange contact info. People accurately describe it as a kind of phone "mating dance." This also took a considerable chunk of time, but we got on our way, soaked, cold, but full and at least for me, running on a bit of a high. Or at least, as much of a high I can be on when I've been fighting social awkwardness all day. I maybe 26 now, but I'm still that gawky 16-year-old if I don't put in an effort.

It was certainly one of those "you had to have been there!" type deals, but I did my best to enjoy the day. I had a good time, and I don't regret going, which says a lot considering the pile of work I came home to that needed to be done for the next morning. I'm also monitoring my throat closely, as that is always the first place I am stricken if I am catching a cold, and thus far I'm doing OK. Who knows if something won't show up in the next couple of days, but I refuse to go to the ER with a cold to get pumped full of fluids as apparently the Japanese do here when you come in with cold symptoms. And unfortunately, I hadn't brought a camera so I have no pictures of the natural disaster swirling around us (fall really announced its presence, for sure), but at the same time, it was probably a good thing I didn't come with one because it probably would've gotten waterlogged and I would've run through another digital. But now this entry is just a solid block of text and I can't think of a clever reference to use here as an excuse to insert a picture.

And I have run on for much longer than I had intended, but I can't help but be full of words. I may not say much in some instances, but rest assured there is a very long inner monologue running through my head on a daily basis. I guess this entry is to counteract my last one that was pretty much all pics, macros and videos. But about yesterday, very briefly I went out with Deirdre for some karaoke and video games while we waited for one of her friends to come down to Yokohama. IUC students make me feel guilty about the fact that I just need to take a break sometimes; when I was waiting in the computer lab yesterday, a considerable number had already gone home or were doing work where I was. I get everything done, but my Pavlovian response to the ring of the bell on a Friday afternoon is to do some combination of fun, ridiculous and stupid. But Deirdre and I went out and first did some karaoke review (I want to call it カラ習, short for カラオケ練習 which means what I just said, but I need help making it catch on), which was us testing out songs that we'd like to do at karaoke at some point but haven't had much practice with and therefore don't want to embarrass ourselves in front of a big group. I quickly learned that my voice is nowhere near as high as Brian Wilson or Steven Tyler's... usually I pick male singers because their voices are much more in my range, but here I failed.

From there, we hit one of the main streets around Yokohama station, ate dinner (katsudon with ooey gooey runny egg, nom nom nom. It also figures that I'm listening to Rockpile's "A Knife and Fork" right now, which includes such lyrics as "Eat, eat eat! That's your middle name / The way you stuff yourself is a doggone shame!"), drank chu-hi's out in the street, shot up some more zombies, and ended up back at karaoke briefly when Deirdre's friend arrived. In the process, we also saw a trash can with a very clear FUCK YOU written on it, and I'm less surprised by the message and more impressed that there were no Engrish mistakes. Though I guess that's a phrase that'd be pretty hard to screw up. And also in the meantime, Deirdre got us nanpa'd (from what I understand, it means getting picked up by someone on the street, but this is not something I have much experience with since in Japan the most I ever get are stares from people who are like "something's not quite right with her." That and the fact I walk around with a look on my face that reads as "don't fuck with me."), but she brushed them off like a pro and I kind of scratched my head as to what happened. They asked her if she was "Russian," which according to DQ is code for "are you a prostitute?" Oh the things you learn.

Okay, that wasn't so brief. But I must stop here, as I have to get some work done before I head out to a potluck later. At this point I'm finding it hard to turn down any social invitations, as I still want to get to know people. And also because I'm afraid of the impending cockroach/zombie invasion in my apartment. It's coming.

And now for something completely different so that I have an actual picture to use when I post this to FB:

That's OK, the Hamburgler is my bitch anyway.
I wonder who the sick fuck was that took Ronald though.