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Archives October, 2003October 31, 2003 H o l l o w e e n s coming! Musubi-chan and I posed as models for the pumpkin last year. Although she won't admit it, I think the pumpkin looks exactly like her.   Everyone have a safe Holloween. And don't forget to give out kandy to the kiddies. They've been waiting since school has started. October 30, 2003 Curse you RBJ! Kanashibari : update : I had a few more experiences like that, and I realized that it usually occured when I was exhausted and/or stressed out. And I even figured out how to get myself out of it: take deep breaths. I learned that the one thing I could control when I was "in chains" was my breathing. Deep breaths. Long breaths that bring in lots of oxygen to the brain. Once it happened as I was watching TV. I was on my bed watching the Mary Tyler Moore Show when suddenly I couldn't move my body. Huh, wtf? I'm still watching the show, I can see what's going on, the room is the same, everything is the same! What the hell is happening? I took my deep breathes and eventually "unchained" myself. But it struck me: Now I get it. I'm sleeping with my eyes open. My body is asleep and cannot move, but with my eyes open, I am still taking in stimuli from the outside world and it gives the effect of being awake. Now I'm no sleep expert, so what I have just described above is definitely a laymans diagnosis. But maybe, just maybe, some who read this page knows more about this phenomenon and will enlighten me. Please comment if you know anything about, or if you have had a similar experience! Who's looking YOU up II
Sorry Paiky, I think someone was looking for you and got me! hahahahah! Google "xanga" "paiky"
October 29, 2003 Who's lookin' you up? Someone came through search.peoplepc.com--whatever that is--by putting in the search words "Jimi" "Hendricks" "father" and "name". With Jimi H. on my faves list, this person reached this Xanga site.
Someone Googled "Korean drama" and "BitTorrent" and ended up on my mirror site, JA Journal--just click the about Onigiriman banner, but its mostly what's been said here, with maybe a little more info about me and the JA opinions organized a bit better...
The strangest one was this Yahoo! search: "Pudge" "Rodriguez" and "gay".
Can you imagine? This person is trying to figure out if the Marlins catcher is gay, and has the NERVE to click on the Onigiriman! Sorry dude. I don't discriminate, but I don't participate, either. October 28, 2003 : Nighttime Update below : Tuesday Night--Meteor: I hear the news that a meteor is flying through space and it's gonna hit somewhere along the East Coast near Virginia. I go outside with Musubi-chan and the air is hot, how your skin feel in front of a heat lamp. I look in the sky and I see a round orange fireball, the same size as the moon. Armageddon... I turn to Musubi-chan. We're doomed. We don't have much longer to live. We decide that maybe we can go to California where my dad is. Maybe there's a chance we can survive this on the Left Coast. Nah, not a chance. The whole world is doomed. But, that means, of course, that money in the bank has little or no value. So naturally, I then find myself at Hechts, trying on corduroy pants... Hey! Maybe they were insulated, ok? Wednesday night--Floods: We go on an outing and return by train. At the Alpine-looking train station, we try to get on the bus home but for some reason, I'm by myself knowing that Musubi-chan will be on the next one. I arrive alone at our townhouse located in a rocky looking valley. Suddenly there's a flash flood and our house is being rocked. I somehow find my way back to the station only to find it completely trashed as well. Where's Musubi-chan! I look around and find a bus toppled over. Musubi-chan is inside safe, fortunately. I'm not much on remembering dreams but I remembered these two. Perhaps they were a premonition for my talk on film. Ack! Or maybe, I just had to go to the bathroom... Speaking of bathrooms.... Sleetse: Take some seirogan--the medicine with the red trumpet mark in the orange bottle...you know that thing was probably used in WWII... SATO: I had the same thing yesterday morning... I couldn't get up in the morning... Take seirogan, the medicine they gave out to soldiers during the nisshin sensou, the war between Japan and the Soviets... That stuff smells like.... crap... Paiky: u got asspiss? October 27, 2003 Ugh! Class cancelledI feel so sick today. I don't get it. Bruins won, I finished the presentation... Maybe it was something I ate... Ooooooh... Gotta go to the bathroom again... Where's my Biofirumin? October 26, 2003 
Bruins Win Time flies: I read Paiky's recent blog--his topics always give me things to think/talk about, thanks Dude!--and it made me think about those indications of getting older. He listed a number, such as creaking bones, aches and pains, etc. For me, the most telling sign of getting old is how fast time flies. I'm sure everyone here feels the same as I do. When we were 5 years old, how long did it take for Christmas to come? I remember thinking the it was STILL Thanksgiving and Christmas was NEVER gonna come. Can you imagine? For those up us with a variety of responsibilities--school, finals, papers, children, spouse, rent, work--Christmas probably comes sooner that you want. Geez, I start thinking about Christmas presents on the 4th of July! The point of this, of course, is that there is no time to do everything. I wish I had 36 hours a day to do the things I need to accomplish on a daily basis. And that is the bottom line, I guess. We have little time to waste--like reading/writing Xanga--with all our other responsibilities. The world has become too busy and too much on edge. Ah, for a simpler life. But then, simpler would probably mean no Internet (and no e-mail), no cell phones (read: leashes), no automobiles (clean the air), no CD/DVDs (uh-oh, wait a minute), no TV to watch football *gasp*... Oh well, I guess we are all distinctly bound to this world. Of course, getting older is not all negative.... More later. October 25, 2003 Football Saturday 
Full Lips October 24, 2003 Finished *update* It's like 5 in the friggin AM and I'll sleep for about 4 hours before I get up, shower, and boogie on to campus. The presentation is at 1:45. Hope they feed me. Home stretch And before you leave a coment, Sleetse; no, they were not trying to procreate with dogs... Anyway, back to work. October 22, 2003 Hot Chile Peppers I was using fresh jalepenos as well, and as i now recall, I was pretty careful with chile peppers, even though I never used gloves. But this time I kinda forgot about the heat; it had been a long time since I made something with chiles. I cut and seeded the jalepenos using my fingers instead of a knife--WTF was I thinking! Well, as you can imagine, the capsaicin oils began to make their presence known and my finger tips began to burn. I washed and soaked my hands and the burning sensation subsided just a bit. Not a lot, but enough to endure the pain and still function. After I finished preparing the salsa and put it in the refridgerator, I went to the little boy's room to relieve myself of the beer I had been consuming--maybe that's why I forgot about the heat. Anyway, in the course of taking care of business, I touched a delicate part of my body with my finger tips--aim is important, y'know. No sooner had I washed my hands and left the boy's room, when I suddenly felt a warming sensation between my legs. Huh? What the... The sensation gets warmer then hotter and finally begins to burn. I run upstairs to the master bedroom bathroom, jump out of my pants, run cold water and soak little Charley. No good. It still burns. In walks Musubi-chan. "What the heck are you doing?" she asks quizzically. I explain and she starts to cackle, bending over in laughter, pounding the dresser and the wall. Gera-gera-gera. "Uh, it really hurts...." "Okay, okay, what do you want ME to do?" She manages to reply shakily, her eyes damp with tears. Then she doubles over and starts to laugh again. "Ah, forget it..." I said, Charley shriveling up. So, girls and boys, ALWAYS wear a glove when dealing with hot chile peppers. And remember to take the gloves off before you go to the powder room. October 20, 2003 Pleasantville I'm also kinda dorky cuz' I'm supposed to be doing tons of work, but I end up watching Pleasantville. Yesterday, I have to do some exercise to relieve stress. So I'm running on the treadmill--I don't run outside because of my allergies--and I'm flipping through the channels as I run when I come across Pleasantville, and end up watching it to the end instead of doing my work. I really like this movie. I know its corny, but I like movies that try--as awkward as it may be--to address the inequalities of society. In the case of this movie, it's about race (ok, Paiky, you don't have to read any further). Gawd it's so corny, but I like the way the story is set up: Pleasantville is a pleasant location in a 50s sitcom, into which David/Bud (Toby Maguire) and his sister (Reese Whitherspoon) are transformed. Everyone talks about the false sense of happiness represented by the 50s characters: Everything is the same, nothing changes, everyone is always happy because there is only one way to interpret the way they lead their lives, a good way as opposed to a bad way. Everything is black or white. In the movie, David/Bud keeps saying that there is no one way to do anything, nothing is routine, everyone and everything changes. But the film is really a call for diversity. The original characters of the town are a metaphor for segregation: everyone is black and white, and everything is defined by these values, good or bad, right or wrong. The people who embrace change and diversity turn into "colored people". Get it? Get it? Its the "colored people" who listen to the blues, and rock and roll. It's the colored people who indulge in sex. It's the colored people who are artists. It's the colored people who draw graffiti on the wall. The court scene is the most telling. If you saw the movie To Kill a Mockingbird (Gregory Peck)--a movie about a southern lawyer defending a "negro" accused of rape and murder--you will have noticed the exact parallel. In the courthouse of both movies, the "coloreds" are in the balcony while the whites are on the first floor. There should be more movies like Pleasantville. It is well made, and it is amazing that it didn't even get an academy nomination. I also saw Field of Dreams the day before on Saturday. I love this movie too, partly because they made the author who is "kidnapped" by Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) an African American, Terrence Mann (James Earl Jone). In the original novel, Shoeless Joe, the author is J.D. Salinger. Why do I like such dorky movies? October 19, 2003
Another ugly victory for the Bruins. Leading 20-12, Cal makes a comeback to tie the game in the final seconds with a touchdown and two-point conversion. The Bruins won in overtime 23-20 thanks to Justin Medlock's field goal, but the real hero is Havner and Chillar, our stellar linebackers. Chillar already blocked on field goal. In the 4th quarter, on another field goal attempt by Cal, Havner jumps up to block it, Chillar picks it up and returns it for a touchdown. If not for that touchdown, Cal would have won in regulation. The vaunted UCLA defense looked better than last week against Arizona, but looked nowhere what they looked like earlier in the season. But a win is a win, even though we get no love from the pollsters. UCLA leads the Pac-10 with Wazzu with a 3-0 record (5-2 overall). Hamamoto: Onigiriman, I was at that Cal-UCLA game today. Nice win for the Bruins. I still find it funny how UCLA stole Cal's fight song. Is that Japanese restaurant you're talking about on Santa Monica Blvd? Things I gotta do before the week's out
October 18, 2003 Lost in Translation, cont'd The massage/prostitute scene (Oh, Mr. Harris, lip my stockings, lip them!) was perhaps over the top, and perhaps is an reflection of one stereotype some American's have of Japan: Japanese will provide sexual opportunities for important guests. However, it is also true that there are many people and places that provide sex in Japan in ways that make this particular scene tame in comparison. Role-playing prostitution has been popular in Japan, and it isWAY over the top. Also, the interpreter during the Suntory commercial filming may have been a bit to incompetent. While the best interpreters charge $300 an hour, this is not a sum that Suntory could not afford, and there are many who can provide better English than that they showed in the film. But other than that, I think the movie was pretty straight-forward in portraying Japan. Some Japanese I have talked to have said, "That's not Japan". And they are right, it is not Japan. But IT IS the Japan that many foreigners come across when they go for the first time. The Japanese rarely entertain at home, so when business men go to Japan, they are usually treated to the nightlife by their host. That's why in the film you see: Bob Harris and Charlotte going to clubs and karaoke. The rest of their time is spent in the hotel, since their hosts do not associate with guests outside the business context. Unable to speak Japanese, they are isolated from the rest of society and so spend their time in the Hotel pool or hotel bar. On the other side, they see the typically "oriental" Japan: Bob golfing in the shadow of an aesthetically misty--and hence, appropriately mysterious--Mt. Fuji; Charlotte visits a shrine where a wedding ceremony is being held. So I guess the film does focus on stereotypes, but in a way, its a stereotype created by the Japanese, because this is the Japan--fun nightlife and the mysterious orient--that the Japanese themselves present to overseas guests. On a side note: Watch how Bill Murray separates his wooden chopsticks at the sushi bar. He doesn't hold them at the top or middle and break them in the V-shape manner. Rather, he holds it towrd the bottom and separates them in parallel fashion. This is typically Japanese, and shows that Murray has done his share of eating at Japanese establishments. Actually, there was a restaurant in West LA, near UCLA, where my friend was a bartender--I went there to get drinks at significantly reduced prices. At the sushi bar, Bill Murray was a regular customer--Gawd, but I can't remember the name of the restaurant. Football Saturday Go Bruins! October 17, 2003 BoSox Lose, too Todays outcome lies directly on the manager, Grady Little. He is not very good. I mentioned this to my kids the other day. He doesn't know how to use his players, it seems. When Jeter doubled to right, I thought that Pedro had pitched a great game but he had to sit down. Williams comes up and singles Jeter home. Now, Pedro HAS to sit down, right? You have the tying run coming to the plate. Alright, so its the little Japanese boy, Matsui, but heck, Torre moved him up to the 5th spot cuz' he's hitting better than Giambi in the series. GIAMBI! Torre knew what he was doing. I wish Little knew what he was doing. He goes to the mound to talk to Pedr "Hey, Pedro, how you feeling?" And he leaves him in. Pedro is a fighter, a competitive son of a buck. What the freakin' else is he gonna say? No mas, no mas, take me out?!? Little blew it. They will question his decision throughout the winter. But don't feel sorry for Little. The guy you wanna feel sorry for is Steve Bartman, the guy who interfered with Moises Alou's attempt to catch a foul ball. The Sun Times published not only his face and name, but where he works and the neighborhood where he lives. What would happen if someone brought serious injury to him, or if he felt so bad that he would do something drastic, heaven forbid. Now, there are many who say, Hey, he did what anyone would do. Well, I'm not so sure it's that simple. As kids sitting on the sidelines at basketball and baseball games, we always got out of the way of balls heading our way for any potential play. So I don't know if its that clear cut. But this kind of reportage crosses the line. It places the Sun Times right with the journalistic traditions of the National Enquirer and the Globe... What is this world coming to? Now, the only thing I have left to look forward to is to see Clemens get a hard one high and tight when he has to bat in the National League stadium. But knowing the Yankees, they'll wuss out and have Clemens pitch in games only in Yankee Stadium where he doesn't have to bat. October 16, 2003 Cubbies Lose Well, we'll see tomorrow. Another Martinez-Clemens match-up. I should mention that there was a lot of crap about Martinez pushing Zimmer away. Oh yeah, Zimmer was hit in the head as a player so he's ultra sensitive about pitchers like Martinez throwing it high and tight, so that's why he decides to try to slug Martinez. But I don't get it. Everyone seems to have forgotten what was smoldering in the background: Mr. Headhuner himself, Roger Clemens. Isn't this the guy who not only threw at Mike Piazza, he actually hit him in the head. Then in the next meeting--a freaking year later--Piazza cracks his bat, Clemens picks up the broken half that flew near the mound and THROWS it at Piazza as he was running toward 1st base! What was that?!? Did the bat slip out of his hand? And where was Zimmer when this happened? Where was his ultra sensitivity then? Does it manifest only when the Yankees are the target? What kind of bull is that? Oh, and by the way, was there a coach running out to slug Clemens? Of course not. People who are defending Zimmer suck. This would definitely include Tom Boswell of the Washington Post. What a joke. I thought he was a fine sports writer for a while, but I realize now that he is biased, or he has a really short memory. Either way, bad news for sports fan. Anyway, the Red Sox are aware of Clemens and are ready for his antics, which is why tempers were running high to begin with. Well, the Bosox won yesterday and I can only hope they win today. But there is a part of me that hopes the Yankees win so someone on the Marlins can drill Clemens in the head. Siince he's retiring, this is the last chance anyone has to do it. October 15, 2003 Tuesday night, a storm came through the DC area and it was kinda scary. As usual I went to pick up Musubi-chan from school around 9pm. As we headed home it started pouring like crazy. Y'know, a down pour so heavy it seems like someone is simply pouring a buck of water over your windshield. The wipers swish left and right as quick as they can but they seem virtually useless. To make matters worse, I was on a stretch of road that is a bit hilly, and has no street lamps, so it's hard to tell if your going straight. I try to focus on the red tail-lights of the car in front of me, praying that that car knew where it was going. Whew! We finally reach a more lighted area where I can at least make out some landmarks to get my bearing: A traffic signal, stright path to the next signal, Ruby Tuesday on the left, IHOP on the right. Red light, stop. Man, my heart is racing. I continues to pour. Green light, cross intersection slowly. I've been driving much slower all throughout of course, and the other cars around me are not taking chances either, thank God. Next signal, cross I-66, right turn at next signal. Almost home, but the road veer to the left as it swings around Oakton HS. Narrow road, and I can tell there's a CUE bus heading in the opposite direction... toward me. I presume he sees me, but I veer as much as I dare to the right of the road. Bus passes me on the left, and I see that the lights of the high school parking lot are still on, so a stop sign should be right in front of me. I turn right, go a couple of blocks--I can see a little better, has the rain slacked off? I turn left and drive into my parking slot. Where the heck is the rain? It's barely sprinkling. Hmm... Why is it always like this? October 14, 2003 Lost in School Gawd, I don't even have time to Xanga! How pathetic is that. I wasn't able to go to the many sites I read regularly and felt rather guilty, so I just spent the last hour and half visiting and commenting.... Whew! If I missed you, don't worry, I'll catch you next time. Adult E: But first, some background... At the age of 17, when I was ditching high school, and being your typical good-for-nothin' GLOB (good little Oriental boy), I would walk around the seedier streets of downtown LA. Not that I consciously sought this area, but it was an area I passed through everyday from school on the westside on my way to work in J-town. For those of you familiar with LA, this would be an area between 3rd and 6th and Main and Hill. There were the ubiquitous adult book stores, and I would wander in pretending to be lost. Sometimes, the proprietor would ask me for ID, and he'd chase me out when I told him I had none. But more often than not, a flunky would be at the main desk and he never cared who came in, as long as they looked like they could afford something. Oh my, the variety was amazing. Heretofore, being only exposed to the soft porn of Playboy, hardcore had a distinct allure to a young trying to come to terms with a libido that was frowing exponentially. I was not a virgin at this age, but I was naive and unsure of the techniques of sex. The stories I heard from older guys were intriguing, but they always seemed to lack the specifics--it now occurs to me that they were probably as clueless as I was. But the hardcore magazines were eye opening. My mind would race with each magazine, with every turn of the page. "Wow, you mean you can do it standing?" When I left the store--usually without a plain brown paper bag tucked underneath my arm--and head for the bus stop to take me to work, I would pass a place that always seemed to call me like a siren, the Pussycat Theater. It was on Hill about a block and a half from the Biltmore Hotel. Now this isn't the famous theater in Hollywood; it was its poor step-sister in downtown LA. It was rundown and always had down-and-out looking people hanging around the front. But for me it was different. With titles like "Debbie Does Dallas" and stars such as Seka and John Holmes, it was a gleaming citadel of potential information, the best and worst of sex education, and like a magnet it pulled me, inviting me in. But as a punk kid with little experience, I was embarrassed. I mean, geez, going into an adult bookstore was daring enough for me. But I just had to see for myself, maybe next time. I have to go to work. No time. Yeah, next time. Maybe next time. Always next time. October 13, 2003 Weekend Update Okay, UCLA won, although it was another ugly win, 24-21. But that's okay. A win is a win is a win. It doesn't matter how ugly it was. The Bruins were just palin flat. But I still think they showed a lot of heart, because even though they knew they were flat, they still tried hard. I know it sounds contradictory--how can you be flat and still have heart? Hmm... I think they wanted to play hard once the game started, but they were flat because they were ill-prepared for Arizona's intensity and actual talent. Lost in Japan : update: So the main story surrounds the relationship between Bob and Charlotte. But more interesting to me is their interaction with Japan. It is, in a way, the thing that links them. Once they return to the US, they will no longer be able to share the intimacy. Tokyo is their Paris, a la Bogart and Bergman; a place they can share mentally and maybe emotionally, but no longer physically. As such it is interesting to see how they interact with Tokyo. Individually, the focus is on Bob. He does a whiskey commercial and photo shoot with Japanese individuals. The lack of subtitles forces the audience to feel what Bob is going through. It is--in my mind--a form of participational art: the viewer participates in the confusion that Bob is enduring, thereby using this confusion--and the possible frustration it arousses--to understand and appreciate the film. I almost wish I didn't understand Japanese so I could participate, as well. Instead, I got to play god, the omniscient observer. more later. Saturday's post: Another week has past and Saturday is upon us. UCLA plays the Univrersity of Arizona, the sorriest of the Pac-10 teams. Of course, the only reason its the sorriest is because UCLA crushed Washington last week. Before last weeks game, UA and our beloved Bruins were neck and neck for the distinction of sorriest team. I hope they play well today, as they have shown improvement week to week, albeit in minisicule increments. October 10, 2003 Gaijin vs. gaikokujin II Another point was brought up by Fooky. He is correct when he said that Koreans in Japan are called Chenjin. But they are still gaikokujin--as they are required to carry their gaikokujin tokusho (alien registration card)--not gaijin, I think. Now this may seem like a lot about nothing. Indeed, I once thought that these terms were a reflection of traditional and historical usage, and so did not imply a condescending attitude--Americans are foreigners, so they are outsisders, gaijin. Its just a linguistic thing. What's the big deal? But I have come to think differently. Words carry different--sometimes derogatory--connotations for different people and I don't want to ignore this. Can you imagine people using the term "colored" for African Americans today? It's traditional/historical, is not an intrinsicly racial "slur" and the user may not necessarily harbor a malicious agenda, but the African American who hears it will certainly be offended. Should we ignore this? I think not... There are other racist terms as well, as Fooky pointed out. The term Chenjin is used as a derogatory term by many. Indeed, the word bakachon is a perfect example. The term was born during the early generations of Instamatic cameras, those that required little fuss to operate. The simplicity of its use was relfected in this term: even a baka (idiot) or a Chosenjin can use it. Many have tried to convince me that the chon meant the sound of the camera, or some other likely story. But the effect is the same. Koreans I know have told me that they hate the word bakachon because of its connotation. The fact that the term is no longer used publicly in the media suggests that it indeed implied something derogatory. But really, I get exhausted writing about race. It is, for me, an emotional topic--being beat up for being a jap/chink/gook during the formative years will do that to you. I need to take Nefarious' advice and talk about... what did you say? Strip bars? Hmm... Maybe tomorrow... I love this girl... October 09, 2003 Gaijin vs. gaikokujin 外人と外国人.... But it's usage is race-based, because the term is used mostly for non-East Asian people. I am Japanese American and when I go to Japan they usually refer to me as gaikokujin, not gaijin. However, a black friend of mine is BOTH a gaijin and gaikokujin. They often refer to Koreans and Chinese as gaikokujin as well, not gaijin. Indeed, I cannot recall a singel occasion when the Japanese refer to Koreans born and raised in Japan with Korean citizenship as gaijin, just gaikokujin. (If someone know differently, please let me know.) Conversely, a naturalized citizen of Japan might be considered a gaijin (non-East Asian) although not a gaikokujin (foreigner). So the words are not, in most contexts that I am aware of, interchangeable. It is sad that the Japanese feel the need to make this distinction. Paiky mentioned that in America, initial perception is based on how we look, and it seems that it's the same in Japan, as well. Didn't I mention recently that I would ease up on "race" for awhile. It is an exhausting subject for me because it hits close to home and I get heavily involved with it. I guess its just a part of who I am and so need to comment on it. October 08, 2003 Apologies to my kids.... Condolences.... Seat Belts.... Hung over and cranky, I began to tailgate this slow driver as we headed beneath the two-lane underpass that curved left toward the Hollywood freeway (101) at 45mph. Suddenly, this car steps on its brake. I slam on mine, and my car veers left, crosses the left lane and crashes into the concrete wall of the underpass. Dazed, I look up to see the car that stepped on the break speed away. The cars behind me, thankfully, were NOT tailgating, so they were able to stop before hitting my car that was, I was slowly realizing, perpendicular to the road. A car could have easily broadsided the drivers side of my car. And as the driver, this small miracle was not lost on me. Just as amazingly, I had my seatbelt on and it prevented me from going through the windshield and hitting the concrete wall. And even more amazing was the fact my car, my 1973 Chevy Camaro, was still running, and I was able to back it up and drive it off the freeway. That car was a tank, a fast one, but still a tank. Since that day, I have always counted myself as one lucky sumbuck. I buy lottery tickets with the full knowledge that I will never win, for I used up a significant portion--if not all--of my quota of luck that Saturday morning in 1982. And I NEVER tailgate anymore. I rarely exceed the speed limit, and generally drive safely. So always buckle up guys... October 07, 2003 No more about race.... Cubs vs. Bosox Worth Mentioning October 06, 2003 Asians in America II CultofDizzo: to be completely honest, i never considered asian americans any different from regular americans until they told me they were. I didn't know about the cultural differences until I became friends with a lot of asians. A lot of these negative stereotypes we're trying to get rid of were first introduced to me in the context of being told they weren't true. In an American city like DC or NYC, when you see an asian or a black person or any other "minority" you don't bat an eye, because it is normal. I'd be much more uncomfortable if I was in america and everyone was white! Posted 10/2/2003 at 11:44 PM There are many non-Asians who have told me that they received similar discriminating treatment in Asian countries. And that is true and unfortunate. But there is a basic difference between our situations. For the most most part, the non-Asian probably chose to go to Asia and has the choice to leave, as they have a place to return to. I had no choice and nowhere to return to. I did not choose to be born in the US; I did not choose to be educated in a system that paid lip service, telling me that I was "legally" equal to everyone else in our great land; I did no choose to be raised in a culture that made me feel different, that convinced me that I WAS different from other "regular Americans" through images of typical White middle American values in the media. I also have no where to return, for I am an outsider in Japan. I look Japanese, but my passport guarantees different treatment when I go to find a job, try to find an apartment, get a loan, etc. So I live here and try--in my own small way--to effect change from within, to influence young people positively. I have to believe that its possible, that there is a goal to strive for; perhaps not a Utopia, but a better place than this. To those of you who have read these past two Asian American posts: Don't think I don't respect these two gentlemen, or that I have singled them out for rebuttal. I only know Paiky through Xanga, but I have been reading his sites regularly, and from what I can tell, he is a straight talking guy. He is totally cool, and I respect his opinion. I have met Dizzo, and although we have never had a real heart-to-heart, I know enough about him through mutual friends and his Xanga site that he is a kind and gentle soul. And I respect his opinion and observations as well. But I needed to make a point and I wanted to address them here. They are good people who I'm sure will accept a difference of opinion. October 05, 2003 Weekend Entry II: Word Selection A To everyone who enjoys reading my site: Lets stop usng this word. There are lots of alternatives, and here are a few you can use... just don't tell your parents I suggested them: awful, horrendous, uncool, sucks, F(elonial)U(se of)C(arnal)K(nowledge)s, shiet.... haha, as if you didn't know these words already. Word Selection: B
October 04, 2003 Weekend Entry Vocab Question
There are others and I will post as I come across them. October 03, 2003 Asians in America I PaikyPoo: we live in a world of physical senses. your idea where we're all equals is a utopia which will never be realized. no matter how twinkie i am, how perfect my english is, how patriotic i am, how abercrombie & fitch i dress, how white my gf/wife is (if i had one), or how much money i make i'll always be seen as a yellow man. doesn't bother me tho... one of the advantages of being older is i've had more time to contemplate about such things. i got over my insecurities about it several years ago. Posted 10/2/2003 at 7:37 PM CultofDizzo also left a comment that reflects the other side of the spectrum. I will respond to that tomorrow... October 02, 2003 Koreans in Japan Piratechan: while the sushi talk is making my mouth water, i got stuck on how a "North Korean" who is "Japan born and raised" can be "North Korean". Isn't this partly what NLUTE is all about? Where you are born and live is a greater shaper of your culture than your ancestry? Many of the parents and grand parents of my friends were brought over from Korea during WWII. When Japan colonized Korea, the Japanese govt. went to great lengths to have both citizens "intermingle." Many Japanese went to Korea and Manchuria--the govt. provided incentives, I think. I presume the J-govt. thought that by populating these countries with Japanese, it would somehow make these occupied areas look and feel like "Japan". My grandparents, in fact, went there, and my unlce was born in Korea. This was okay if you're Japanese, I suppose, but many of the Koreans were froced in to labor in Japan. From what I understand many of these Koreans never really wanted to remain in Japan--indeed, this is the argument that many right wing Japs and stupid foreigners always bring up: If you don't like Japan, go home, reminiscent of our own redneck expression, "America: Love it or leave it". Unfortunately for these Koreans, if they went home they had to deal with the brewing Korean war, the subsequent communist regime, and the ultimate economic and social failure of No. Korea. How were these Korean's going to go back? It would have been going to certain hardship and suffering. Who would go? How could Japan send people back to such a situation when it was them who brought the Koreans to Japan in the first place? No compassion... Also, no citizenship. I believe the J-govt. offered citizenship to Koreans, but they had to turn "Japanese". Unlike the "melting pot" of America where we try to promote diversity and celebrate different cultures within the American culture, Japan demands total immersion. They could only go to schools approved by the Japanese Ministry of Education. This means that Koreans would no longer have the opportunity to learn their own traditions... but then I don't remember getting Japanese history lesson in elementary school. But I did get Japanese language lessons. If these Koreans went to regular J schools, there would be no Korean language at all. And if they go to Korean schools? Since they are not approved by the MOE, the diplomas they earn will not be recognized by universities, and so cannot gain admission. Perhaps most significantly, they would have to change their name. I'm not sure how accurate this is, but I have been told by many--Japanese and Koreans alike--that those who "naturalized" took names that were similar to their Korean ones. The name Kim, for example, is read Kane in Japanese, so names such as Kaneko, Kaneyama, etc. find their roots in Korea. But really, I could never imagine having to change my name to Smith or Jones, or--closer to Onigiri--Oneill. The Koreans-in-Japan (KIJ) situation might be similar to my own life as described in NLUTE. Many of the KIJ are a true hybrid in everything except their passport. Language and customs are blurred. My friends son--Matt I'm lookng for the business card of her restaurant--is incredibly Japanese in attitude and behavior. His Japanese is impeccable as is obvious. He talks to his mother and sister in Japanese. The only time he speaks Korean is when his father is around--you know those old school East Asian males. But if asked about his cultural heritage, he would adamantly say he is North-Korean, even though he has never been there, doesn't really want to go there, and everything from his language to taste in music is far more Japanese than Korean. To make it worse for him--in my opinion--is that he looks like the Japanese. I and my JA/AA buds look distinctly different from Mr. White America. They see us approaching, we know we are being watched. We do not melt into the background--unless your in Chinatown, J-Town or K-Town. But he looks no different than anyone else in Japan, and yet if and when he decides to go to college or get a job, he will have to confront the kind of discrimination reserved for us AAs here: Yeah, you're smart, you capable, but you're just not one of us. (I might mention that my step-son is half North Korean--Musubi-chan's late husband was North Korean, and Unagi-kun looks llike any other FOB from Japan.) I wait for the day when we can all be equals. There are many young white people indeed who want this to happen--Capt.Gaijin certainly has been open about his opinion about this. But this is not the reality. Even now. And there are certainly many young whites who show no desire to change the status quo, and there are many young Japanese in Japan who don't even realize that there's a problem. As for me, I am an American. I know that without a trace of doubt or regret, as I have tried to convey in NLUTE. But I still have to deal with the situation, the reality of our current society. Just as my Korean friends who struggle for recognition in Japan must face theirs. October 01, 2003 On Getting Married
My ex-wife fit these criteria to a tee. She has a PhD from UCLA. She's a Half--Japanese/German--good face, full lips, and even taller than me. She's bilingual and bicultural. She's a decent cook. And she liked sex, but only as a means to procreate--not to have fun. So except for #6, she seemed to be perfect, but still we got divorced. And I think its because we were too "analytical". We both had certain expectations in a partner that could be catelogued and prioritized. And we approached life in this fashion, as well. Everything was done for a reason, everything we did had to make economic, social, cultural, and academic sense. I think she was happy with this, but for me, life became too predictable and rigid. We lived in Japan where she was an assistant prof. at Hitotsubashi--not a shabby place--a job, I should mention, she got through my connections: yes, kon� (connections) is really important still. Anyone who tries to convince you Japan is an egalitarian, meritorious system is full of it. Anyway, when I got my Ph.D. and decided to return to the US, she refused to return with me; she wanted to pursue her career in Japan and have our daughter continue her education in Japan. Hitotsubashi is a prestigious national school ranked 3rd in Japan. It didn't make sense to her to quit it for a job I got at a middle first-tier university? (The school is, solid in many areas but it is not a Harvard or a Stanford or a Michigan or a Berkeley...) And "practically" speaking, she was right: it did not make economic or academic sense in terms of HER career. And the education our daughter was receiving was good as well. And Japan is a far safer environment than the US. Can you say, Columbine? Anyway, what was missing from the equation is a sense of passion. My first marriage--for both parties, I think--was calculated, whether it be what we expected from each other or how we lived our lives and planned our future. For her, living apart was not a big deal; it made sense in many different ways. But I began to question the type of relationship we had and we ultimately divorced, as she wanted to pursue her career. You may ask why I didn't decide to stay in Japan. Well, I earned a Ph.D. in Jap. Lit., and there was not school that would hire me, an American, to teach Jap lit. to Japanese. Indeed, I tried; I applied to two different jobs, but it was always, "no sankyu". And my ex-wife was an anthropologist in Southeast Asian, but her main responsibility was as an international student advisor. So she wasn't really working in a job that she had studied for. I guess taking the path she set out for herself was not so important, but it was for me. I had the opportunity to do what I had trained for. Should I have turned it down? I said, "No". And she said, "Be my guest." So I went. But that was then. I had to re-evaluate how I saw relationships. Should I continue to be calculating? Should I adhere to the priorities and standards that I thought were so important in a relationship? Well, Musubi-chan answered that question for me. We were friends and we were out drinking with friends one night in Fuch�. As we were walking back to the train station to go home, she slipped her hand into mine and bang! Electricity! I know, it sounds so corny. But its true. I never thought this could be. I have read in novels about "true love", about how you get this electric feeling and how you just know that this is the right person. I was a skeptic--"baloney" I'd say--for most of my life. But I am now a believer. I tell this to my friends, and all they can say, sarcastically, is ???? (gochisou-sama: lit. thanks for the feast) It took me 40 years to find the right girl, but I found her in Musubi-chan. Is everything bliss? No. We have differences of opinions and argue, but who wouldn't? I mean, we had 40 years to develop our own personalities. Do we have a perfect relationship? Yes, but I can't explain it. She doesn't fit all the criteria I had set out above. She dropped out of college, she is neither bilingual nor bicultural. And, not to brag, but I think I'm a better cook, although I should let my kids weigh in on that one, since they've actually eaten what I've made.... Anyway, Musubi-chan doesn't fit all of my previous criteria--but I think we have a passion for each other that transcends mundane--albeit important--issues such as money and career. The point is, however, finding a mate is not an exact science, at least any science that is currently found in a textbook. It is about the feeling and the passion. Musubi-chan quit her job as a successful and popular aerobics instructor to be with me in the US. She gave it up, not because it made sense, but because of her passion--I'm embarassed to say--for me... I guess, I'm pretty lucky. |
I guess I'm a dork. I've had a couple of comments on the music, "I Confess" by the English Beat. It may not sound so "cool" to some, but that's okay. This is actually one of my favorite songs. And I love Rankin' Roger's voice. If God told me I could have any voice I want, I would take this one singing right now. It's unique and has a wide range.
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