But apparently food has poisoned me and this poison is desperately clinging to my intestines. I do not want to eat. For anyone that knows me, you know that this is, indeed, a dire state of affairs.
I've managed to eat bananas, though, so that's cool. I hate bananas, but bananas have shown a propensity for staying inside my intestines, so bananas it is. I have a feeling that after this whole ordeal, I will never want to eat bananas again. I already want to throw this Pocari Sweat out the window.
Do not panic, though. I am staying hydrated and such. Sometimes, I even eat crackers.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Holy hell! A post!
Finally have a bit of time to breathe.
And way too much to say.
Summary:
--Training was stupid (and hellish for most people-mostly stupid, though).
--I moved to a new place full of nice people who want nothing more than to make sure I 1) don't die and 2) find whatever I'm looking for even if it means them walking me a mile to get there.
--My room is a mess.
--I started work.
Let me just focus on the work bit, because I assume no one cares about training as entertaining a story that could make. We had been warned, on multiple occasions about the terror that is the teacher's room in Japan. Especially of the overworked teacher's room in junior high schools. But -and this may come back to bite me- I've found everyone incredibly personable and super accommodating. Perhaps more so than some of the places I've worked in the US. Most of the people have gone out of their way to talk to me likely because I looked like a quivering, terrified mess. Because I was a quivering, terrified mess with a sinus infection. It is very, very hard to be genki when you haven't slept in three days and it hurts to talk and why don't they heat the school, jesus christ!? My kyoto-sensei got in touch with my company to say that she was concerned because I looked tired. This may have been a passive-agressive Japanese thing, but I think she may have just been legitimately concerned. So, I made a doctor's appointment which I later tried (and failed) to cancel. And because arrangements had to be made for me to be picked up after school, the whole teacher's room found out about it. Because they just shout across the room. That, and laryngitis is hard to overlook when it's awkwardly whispering in your face in a sad combination of Japanese and English.
Speaking of my lackluster language ability, they think that it is the greatest thing ever when I speak any Japanese at all. At all. Period. They find me absolutely fucking adorable. Which is weird, because I am not adorable. I suffer with occasional bitchface/derpface. We had to memorize certain greetings before we arrived at our schools so we could awkwardly try to fit in (there is no way an ALT will fit in with the teachers). So, I tried my damnedest to use these phrases. The room all but exploded in to "d'aws". Seriously, guys? I said "good morning". All joking aside, I love this school. One of the teachers tried to talk to me for a good ten minutes. She asked if I was lonely or homesick and all sorts of fun things that I couldn't really make out. Then she gave me a hug. I feel this is somehow monumental, because a Japanese person gave me a hug the day after I met her. We are besties now (note: this is hopeful exaggeration).
Still, Japanese schools are terrifying. Welcome back ceremony and entrance ceremony were like a military procession where you don't understand what's being said and if the kids slouch, someone will come up behind them and hold their head up for a minute. And first years will pass out at their entrance ceremony. It is a thing that will probably happen. I just copied what the teachers around me were doing and tried to hide in the back. And bowed often even though bowing is very, very strange for me. I don't think I'll ever get the hang of it.
This is going to be tough. I like it.
And way too much to say.
Summary:
--Training was stupid (and hellish for most people-mostly stupid, though).
--I moved to a new place full of nice people who want nothing more than to make sure I 1) don't die and 2) find whatever I'm looking for even if it means them walking me a mile to get there.
--My room is a mess.
--I started work.
Let me just focus on the work bit, because I assume no one cares about training as entertaining a story that could make. We had been warned, on multiple occasions about the terror that is the teacher's room in Japan. Especially of the overworked teacher's room in junior high schools. But -and this may come back to bite me- I've found everyone incredibly personable and super accommodating. Perhaps more so than some of the places I've worked in the US. Most of the people have gone out of their way to talk to me likely because I looked like a quivering, terrified mess. Because I was a quivering, terrified mess with a sinus infection. It is very, very hard to be genki when you haven't slept in three days and it hurts to talk and why don't they heat the school, jesus christ!? My kyoto-sensei got in touch with my company to say that she was concerned because I looked tired. This may have been a passive-agressive Japanese thing, but I think she may have just been legitimately concerned. So, I made a doctor's appointment which I later tried (and failed) to cancel. And because arrangements had to be made for me to be picked up after school, the whole teacher's room found out about it. Because they just shout across the room. That, and laryngitis is hard to overlook when it's awkwardly whispering in your face in a sad combination of Japanese and English.
Speaking of my lackluster language ability, they think that it is the greatest thing ever when I speak any Japanese at all. At all. Period. They find me absolutely fucking adorable. Which is weird, because I am not adorable. I suffer with occasional bitchface/derpface. We had to memorize certain greetings before we arrived at our schools so we could awkwardly try to fit in (there is no way an ALT will fit in with the teachers). So, I tried my damnedest to use these phrases. The room all but exploded in to "d'aws". Seriously, guys? I said "good morning". All joking aside, I love this school. One of the teachers tried to talk to me for a good ten minutes. She asked if I was lonely or homesick and all sorts of fun things that I couldn't really make out. Then she gave me a hug. I feel this is somehow monumental, because a Japanese person gave me a hug the day after I met her. We are besties now (note: this is hopeful exaggeration).
Still, Japanese schools are terrifying. Welcome back ceremony and entrance ceremony were like a military procession where you don't understand what's being said and if the kids slouch, someone will come up behind them and hold their head up for a minute. And first years will pass out at their entrance ceremony. It is a thing that will probably happen. I just copied what the teachers around me were doing and tried to hide in the back. And bowed often even though bowing is very, very strange for me. I don't think I'll ever get the hang of it.
This is going to be tough. I like it.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Adventures in Harajuku.
Panic when people talk to you in Japanese!
Get over this, self. Seriously, you're making us look like an idiot. It actually wasn't as bad as it could have been. I understand most of what's being said in shops (Thanks, Situational, Functional Japanese!) The problem arises when I have to respond. Usually looking terrified helps, but I've been trying to make an effort to actually use my words. Today I told someone that I was not French and I asked for crepes. And said that Brit was my younger sister. Hooray, "~~~desu"!
On the train, Brit and I got separated and had to sit across from each other. The man I sat next to was twitchy and coughing a lot and every time I looked at Brit, she had this stupid, "I'm holding in a giggle fit" face. Apparently, the kid on the other side of 'sick man' was making the same face whenever 'sick man' had a hacking fit. I was afraid he was going to die, but thought I was pulling off a pokerface pretty well. I guess not. She said we both looked super pissed. Good job, bitchface. Making me look annoyed when I'm actually concerned.
I attempted to imitate my concerned face and take a photo of it to prove to myself that it wasn't my bitchface and Brit was just wrong. She was not. My face is super bitchy when I surreptitiously look to my right. Good to know. It's probably true for my left, too.
See. Kind of bitchy. >>
Get over this, self. Seriously, you're making us look like an idiot. It actually wasn't as bad as it could have been. I understand most of what's being said in shops (Thanks, Situational, Functional Japanese!) The problem arises when I have to respond. Usually looking terrified helps, but I've been trying to make an effort to actually use my words. Today I told someone that I was not French and I asked for crepes. And said that Brit was my younger sister. Hooray, "~~~desu"!
On the train, Brit and I got separated and had to sit across from each other. The man I sat next to was twitchy and coughing a lot and every time I looked at Brit, she had this stupid, "I'm holding in a giggle fit" face. Apparently, the kid on the other side of 'sick man' was making the same face whenever 'sick man' had a hacking fit. I was afraid he was going to die, but thought I was pulling off a pokerface pretty well. I guess not. She said we both looked super pissed. Good job, bitchface. Making me look annoyed when I'm actually concerned.
See. Kind of bitchy. >>
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Flying out.
Or: I am bad a being a responsible adult.
I thought I did really well. I had all of my crap packed into two giant suitcases the night before we were going to leave and everything. Then I did laundry. And bought shampoo. It became significantly more difficult to fit all of my stuff, but we needed to head out, so all things were shoved and squashed and promised to be fixed later.
My mom and sister pretty much repacked my bags for me. Because I am incompetent and think that, “just shove it in, it’ll fit” is a good approach to packing. I was wrong. Packing a suitcase is fucking art. There was fancy folding and placing and laying. Nothing like the wrinkled monstrosity that was my pack job. With that, I opted to stay up all night and we got to the airport at 5:30 AM.
It certainly seemed early enough and I was all set to go with my previously unweighed bags. I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably, “I am moving across the world and have to take pretty much all of my worldly belongs with me. Plus a year’s worth of shampoo and other body products. And sure, if it’s over it’ll be no big deal, I’ll pay the fee and call it a day. Because airlines are reasonable and understanding.” That last bit was my downfall.
My bags were thirty pounds overweight, which I honestly find to be an impressive feat in excess even for me. The fee was going to be $100 per bag which seemed a bit much, but there was nothing I could do about it. I have a size 11 foot, Japan. I need to bring shoes. Then the lady checking me in was like, “wait a minute.”
“Wait a minute” is never something you want to hear from the lady between you and a new job in a foreign nation.
As it turns out, they simply won’t take a bag over 70 pounds. You’re just SOL.
Fortunately, I had the option of checking a third bag, which I jumped on. It was pretty much a huge duffel bag that I started to shove all of my crap into while I decided there was a bunch of stuff I just didn’t need. Because at that point I didn’t care. My mom was super cool about it. And kept telling me to chill and that we could fit it all. But chill I would not because I know basic arithmetic and understood that one of the bags would be overweight no matter what and I just didn't want to deal with this shit.
Fortunately, the lady between me and the rest of my life had to leave for the day, and she handed me over to the nicest airline guy ever. He gave me the option of going a teensy bit over the weight limit, which I jumped on. He also helped me out by checking me in while I repacked everything and ran back and forth taking and giving passports and credit cards and sympathetic glances.
Luckily, I got everything sorted out. Bags sent, extra baggage fee paid, ready to go.
As we were walking away my mom asked if I had my passport. I did the appropriate eye-roll “of course I have my passport, it is the most important thing in my life right now” face and went off to security. Where I promptly reached for my passport only to realize I didn’t have it. What a moron.
What followed was a frantic mad-dash around the airport as I looked everywhere for my missing passport/visa/if you don’t have this, you’re fucked. My sister was freaking out while trying to keep me from having a breakdown, my grandma was crying, my mother was supremely disappointed (also horrified), and I was the palest I have probably ever been in my life.
Then I looked at my mom’s pocket.
“Check your pocket.”
“I already did. It wasn’t there. Did you repack it?”
“I don’t know? Can we get the bags back? What’s that lump in your pocket? Brit, go retrace our steps as I throw the contents of my carry on across the floor.”
“It’s nothing. It’s- oh.”
It was in my mom’s pocket. I must have handed it to her when I got it back while we were repacking.
I made it to Japan, though. After I lost my bags at Narita and was questioned for having so much luggage by customs.
I made it to Japan, though. After I lost my bags at Narita and was questioned for having so much luggage by customs.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Still waiting to hear about a placement
Or, "Adventures in paranoia and rage"
I'm mildly concerned about my placement request as it is now February 15th, and I have heard nothing beyond, "Hey, look! You're Certificates of Eligibility showed up early. You can't use them yet. Look how awesome we are!"
And now I'm terrified that there won't be a placement because this happened to the last batch of people who applied and it would be just my luck.
I'm also afraid that maybe no one wants to hire me because of some untold reason and I will die alone in my grandmother's house as my cat gets angry that she hasn't been fed yet.
This is fast becoming the most pessimistic, depressing blog ever.
I need to fix this.
I'm mildly concerned about my placement request as it is now February 15th, and I have heard nothing beyond, "Hey, look! You're Certificates of Eligibility showed up early. You can't use them yet. Look how awesome we are!"
And now I'm terrified that there won't be a placement because this happened to the last batch of people who applied and it would be just my luck.
I'm also afraid that maybe no one wants to hire me because of some untold reason and I will die alone in my grandmother's house as my cat gets angry that she hasn't been fed yet.
This is fast becoming the most pessimistic, depressing blog ever.
I need to fix this.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The circumstances of my life pre-job interview. Tales of disappointment.
...Or the story of most 20-something year old graduates with a bachelor's of arts in 2010/2011.
Upon graduating college, I thought that I would find a job, get an apartment, and never have to do homework again. Unfortunately, I graduated in 2010 and lived in Buffalo. There were no jobs to be had. Instead, I did office work, hated everything, and scraped by every month working various temp jobs while trying to pay student loans without a steady paycheck. Not a fun time. Luckily, this motivated me to try to do anything else. I applied for the JET program, had a stellar application, got invited to interview, bought a fancy suit, and completely bombed the interview. I was placed on the alternates list, so I waited. And waited. And waited.
Around May 2011, I decided that I would apply to another program. I needed a job, and it didn't look like JET was going to pan out. I started filling out my application for a few different eikaiwa and ALT companies, hoping that I would be able to start in August or September. Then I got a really bad case of bronchitis and procrastinated until June or July before finally sending out my application. Needless to say, an August start was not going to happen.
Still, we already knew that I was a qualified candidate on paper, so I wasn't too surprised when I got a telephone interview. Luckily, it went much better than my JET interview, so I scheduled an in-person interview in Florida, since at the time I thought I would be moving in with my grandmother in the hope of finding a job.
So, I spent a month saying goodbye to all of my friends, got rid of all of my large furniture (the day before I left because I am a horrible procrastinator), packed all of my belongings and cat into my car, split up with my long-term boyfriend, and left for my mother's apartment for a few days so she could help me make the long drive to Florida.
This plan failed when she realized I was an emotional wreck and convinced me to stay with her. So, my cat and I moved in with my mother and her (very large) dog. Her apartment was 450 square feet. The cat and the dog hated each other, and I slept on the most uncomfortable futon in the history of ever and spent my days applying for every kind of job in NYC even though I would have had a two hour commute to work every day.
It was pretty dismal. And I didn't hear back from a single job. Still, I honestly was doing much better. Sure, the circumstances weren't ideal, but I had family to fall back on when I was upset about my lack of employment. And I had free food. Seriously.
My mom surprisingly found a job in Florida, so we actually ended up moving down to my grandmother's as initially planned. After applying for so many jobs and failing so miserably, I decided that if I did manage to find "a career job," I would take it and just not go back to Japan. Long-term unemployment in 20th/21st century America: killing hopes and dreams since 1929.
We ended up getting down here just in time for me to go to my scheduled interview. Months of disappointment had molded an apathetic and pessimistic attitude about getting a job and my procrastination really kicked in. Though I had initially planned a simple lesson plan a month in advance, I scrapped it the night before and completely changed topics. My sister was horrified. By that point, I'm certain she wanted me to get the job and go to Japan more than I did myself. That night went something like this:
2:00 AM
Sister: "So, are you ready for your interview?"
Me: "Meh."
Sister: "You're all set, right? You've had two months to get prepared."
Me: "Yeah, sure. I don't really like my presentation, though..."
Sister: "But it's done? So go to bed."
Me: "Actually..."
Sister: "Oh no."
Me: "I'm throwing this out. And starting over. Also, I need to fill out all of these forms and re-do my resume."
Sister: "What? Why?!"
Me: "Wanna chat until 5:30 when I have to start getting ready for the interview as I remake all of my visuals and hey, if a verb is a past participle, do I just say the 'to be' form is irregular, or is the whole thing irregular."
Sister: "I had so much hope for you..."
Me: "Right. I'll separate them, then."
Sister: "You are the worst."
Upon graduating college, I thought that I would find a job, get an apartment, and never have to do homework again. Unfortunately, I graduated in 2010 and lived in Buffalo. There were no jobs to be had. Instead, I did office work, hated everything, and scraped by every month working various temp jobs while trying to pay student loans without a steady paycheck. Not a fun time. Luckily, this motivated me to try to do anything else. I applied for the JET program, had a stellar application, got invited to interview, bought a fancy suit, and completely bombed the interview. I was placed on the alternates list, so I waited. And waited. And waited.
Around May 2011, I decided that I would apply to another program. I needed a job, and it didn't look like JET was going to pan out. I started filling out my application for a few different eikaiwa and ALT companies, hoping that I would be able to start in August or September. Then I got a really bad case of bronchitis and procrastinated until June or July before finally sending out my application. Needless to say, an August start was not going to happen.
Still, we already knew that I was a qualified candidate on paper, so I wasn't too surprised when I got a telephone interview. Luckily, it went much better than my JET interview, so I scheduled an in-person interview in Florida, since at the time I thought I would be moving in with my grandmother in the hope of finding a job.
So, I spent a month saying goodbye to all of my friends, got rid of all of my large furniture (the day before I left because I am a horrible procrastinator), packed all of my belongings and cat into my car, split up with my long-term boyfriend, and left for my mother's apartment for a few days so she could help me make the long drive to Florida.
This plan failed when she realized I was an emotional wreck and convinced me to stay with her. So, my cat and I moved in with my mother and her (very large) dog. Her apartment was 450 square feet. The cat and the dog hated each other, and I slept on the most uncomfortable futon in the history of ever and spent my days applying for every kind of job in NYC even though I would have had a two hour commute to work every day.
It was pretty dismal. And I didn't hear back from a single job. Still, I honestly was doing much better. Sure, the circumstances weren't ideal, but I had family to fall back on when I was upset about my lack of employment. And I had free food. Seriously.
My mom surprisingly found a job in Florida, so we actually ended up moving down to my grandmother's as initially planned. After applying for so many jobs and failing so miserably, I decided that if I did manage to find "a career job," I would take it and just not go back to Japan. Long-term unemployment in 20th/21st century America: killing hopes and dreams since 1929.
We ended up getting down here just in time for me to go to my scheduled interview. Months of disappointment had molded an apathetic and pessimistic attitude about getting a job and my procrastination really kicked in. Though I had initially planned a simple lesson plan a month in advance, I scrapped it the night before and completely changed topics. My sister was horrified. By that point, I'm certain she wanted me to get the job and go to Japan more than I did myself. That night went something like this:
2:00 AM
Sister: "So, are you ready for your interview?"
Me: "Meh."
Sister: "You're all set, right? You've had two months to get prepared."
Me: "Yeah, sure. I don't really like my presentation, though..."
Sister: "But it's done? So go to bed."
Me: "Actually..."
Sister: "Oh no."
Me: "I'm throwing this out. And starting over. Also, I need to fill out all of these forms and re-do my resume."
Sister: "What? Why?!"
Me: "Wanna chat until 5:30 when I have to start getting ready for the interview as I remake all of my visuals and hey, if a verb is a past participle, do I just say the 'to be' form is irregular, or is the whole thing irregular."
Sister: "I had so much hope for you..."
Me: "Right. I'll separate them, then."
Sister: "You are the worst."
In which I make a blog about Japan.
Aaand because making a blog about teaching abroad is a completely new and interesting idea, I've decided that I might as well.
This first post is being made from right here in the good ole U.S. of A.. I decided that more of an evolution would hopefully be apparent if I start before I begin working.
Fun facts: I have, in fact, been to Japan before. I studied abroad my sophomore year of college and spent most of my time eating a copious amount of noodles. Hence the blog name. I kid you not, my friends had to cut me off. I should have weighed 450 pounds by the time I left.
Most of the reason I want to go back is because I had a wonderful time, didn't learn nearly enough of the language, and actually enjoy teaching. Unfortunately, I also think part of my motivating factor to get back has something to do with the depressing dearth of noodles here. Being on the east coast left me isolated from noodles (excluding the rare chances I had to get them NYC) and I want them back. So, expect the occasional noodle post. I apologize in advance (I apologize for nothing).
This first post is being made from right here in the good ole U.S. of A.. I decided that more of an evolution would hopefully be apparent if I start before I begin working.
Fun facts: I have, in fact, been to Japan before. I studied abroad my sophomore year of college and spent most of my time eating a copious amount of noodles. Hence the blog name. I kid you not, my friends had to cut me off. I should have weighed 450 pounds by the time I left.
Most of the reason I want to go back is because I had a wonderful time, didn't learn nearly enough of the language, and actually enjoy teaching. Unfortunately, I also think part of my motivating factor to get back has something to do with the depressing dearth of noodles here. Being on the east coast left me isolated from noodles (excluding the rare chances I had to get them NYC) and I want them back. So, expect the occasional noodle post. I apologize in advance (I apologize for nothing).
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