Succeeding through one world, brings you to the next. I’ve passed through many and this one proves a challenge. Energy has been lost, lives as well, but I’m here. By this point, I am in the middle of a night, with just the lonely illumination of my modern, seemingly fruitless perseverance.
I want to turn it off, get some sleep, perhaps prepare for school. I’d like to find the courage to disregard all the points I’ve collected, monsters I’ve defeated, levels I’ve lived through. But I’m here now, and I’ve never seen this one before.
Surely, this will be over soon. I will discover the path, find every key, meet but another boss. I’ll probably lose a couple lives along the way, make a few mistakes, and run my time down after falling into the hidden traps that were designed for just that purpose.
But this is merely a game, yet another test of endurance, dedication. I may not sleep tonight, nor complete my studies. I may face another tomorrow filled with mothers who come into your room at night, turn off the world, preaching wasted time, forcing bedtime. And I shall sleep.
Until tomorrow. Only to return, press reset, and get there once again. Only, this time, in half the time and a fourth the effort.
Many people believe games are a waste of time and energy.
And life?
Showing posts with label Pessimism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pessimism. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Living Laps
We Live in a Fantasy World was the literary mirror of not only the physical, but also psychological break I was trying to make with America in 2006. I had made a decision nine months before that I was in need of a significant change. The experience could be compared to a pregnancy. I did the deed late at night, as a spontaneous, almost angry response to something not even worth mentioning anymore. It was done with love in mind, certainly. A few months later, I received confirmation that conception was a success. The following months were spent in anticipation, careful planning, and strongest of all, the unknowingness of what gifts would be given to me.
I’m ridiculous and dramatic, I know. Considering that I am still that way, I might as well try to suggest a point will come soon. There really is no need to make pointless metaphors and/or exaggerations. I just needed change, and well, I received.
It has been almost 3 months since I’ve last updated my fantasy world. I last spoke on the beauty of spring in Japan. The seasons have again shifted, as one might expect. Today was cloudy, hovering in sprinkley showers. It is June. I am giving you facts, however, unless you are here, standing outside with me, would you understand how beautiful this weather really is. The warmth is above average, almost to the point of hot. The word is humid, mushi atsui in Japanese, but in this weather, you can’t complain because the complaint of humidity is masked by the kimochi ii (good feeling on your body) of the cool misty rain.
Besides the weather, June also offers other pleasantries. In late May, the local farmers in my countryside town plant their rice. Do you know how rice is grown? Well first, they soak the dirt for about a week, then plant the sprouts, all the while keeping the field filled with water resembling a rectangular pond of green, grassy rows. Since the water simulates a pond, it attracts a home for creatures such as frogs, and uh, mosquitos. This phenomenon makes nighttime a conundrum. On one hand, the soothing nighttime sound of froggies and open windows make for the perfect lullaby. While, on the other hand, open windows must have screens that shut properly, otherwise you become the sleeping dinner to annoying pests.
Since we’re on the topic, don’t trust screens. What am I saying? No, don’t trust mosquitos. They are rotten, little disease bags. My summer night ritual consists of filling up two large water bottles and placing them in the fridge for the next day, then chasing mosquitos until I have reclaimed all the blood they have stolen from me. Not until then, can I enjoy my cold goodnight shower, only to recoil beside my nay-saying fan as I read or study myself to sleep.
This time of early summer also beckons the ume. Ume means plum. Gabe told me that he believes that ume is not plum, but unripe apricots. I am seriously considering his hypothesis, but am waiting until my ume ripens before I taste and finally make any conclusions. This onset of the plum makes two very exciting promises. My personal favorite is Umeshu. Last year, I came across a recipe for Umeshu (plum wine as it is called in America) in the grocery store. That’s the cool thing about the Japanese, they make it incredibly easy to follow seasonal traditions. How sweet of the grocers to move the large bottles of white liquor and rock sugar over to the produce section of the store. Right there beside the tall piles of ume bags (perfectly measured to wash and throw into the bottom of the 5 litre bottles)! How wonderfully convenient! Last year, I made some. It takes 3 months to soak in the ume taste properly, which means that this concoction becomes fit to drink upon the onset of Autumn. The other big use for unripened ume during this time is to prepare umeboshi. Umeboshi are salted plums that are eaten with rice, usually in bento boxes.
As shown by my blatant abandonment of updating my blog, time runs fast in Japan. Seasons change suddenly. You will just start getting used to mikan season, when suddenly it becomes ichigo season. (Translation: Mikans are Mandarin oranges, sweet tangerines, that grow during the autumn. Suddenly, they disappear from the shelves, and ichigo appears. Ichigo are strawberries. The oncoming of strawberries marks that winter is now here. The sakura then begin to populate the naked trees, and before you have the chance to pull your camera from your bag, the wind blows them down, and suddenly the pink and white trees become a light, leafy green.
I am now finishing my second year in Japan. I have experienced each of these yearly phenomena twice now. Finally, I think I understand. Go ahead and call me stupid for barely figuring things out, I don’t mind. This place has made me feel stupid and unprepared for things since I’ve first arrived. However, I am about to cross the third year mark. I arrived here in August 6th, 2006, and we are rapidly approaching the anniversary of that date. This is why I am writing today.
Despite nine months of preparing to move to Japan, I was still a bit in shock and awe throughout my first year here. That’s what life as a first year JET is, really. Adjusting, exploring, and walking around like someone afflicted with Down Syndrome. As a second year JET, you begin to realize and understand the purpose of things, and you are given the chance to improve things that you botched the first time around.
Like I mentioned earlier, I will soon be beginning my third year. There aren’t any excuses I can make for myself anymore. I intend on doing things better this time around.
I am basically referring to things at school, such as teaching and participating in school events, however, it extends into other important areas such as daily life and Japanese study.
I am best at tending to my goals, when I have collected them all together in one place.
Some things I will focus on (chronologically speaking, yet at the same time, no specific order):
1) Making Summer count----swimming (our school has a pool), riding my bike by the river, drinking by the river, standing in the river, camping, and making goals for the school-less days ahead of me.
2) Welcoming and truly helping the new kiddies who have been placed in Shimada and close areas.
3) Seminars---doing them well this time
4) Saving money
5) Visiting home during Christmas (successful America shopping)
6) Taking on more responsibility at school during the new school year
7) Caring and preparing for bunkasai much earlier
8) Traveling around Japan—specifically Okinawa and the south
9) Get my license and buy a motorbike, in order to explore in more depth.
I’m ridiculous and dramatic, I know. Considering that I am still that way, I might as well try to suggest a point will come soon. There really is no need to make pointless metaphors and/or exaggerations. I just needed change, and well, I received.
It has been almost 3 months since I’ve last updated my fantasy world. I last spoke on the beauty of spring in Japan. The seasons have again shifted, as one might expect. Today was cloudy, hovering in sprinkley showers. It is June. I am giving you facts, however, unless you are here, standing outside with me, would you understand how beautiful this weather really is. The warmth is above average, almost to the point of hot. The word is humid, mushi atsui in Japanese, but in this weather, you can’t complain because the complaint of humidity is masked by the kimochi ii (good feeling on your body) of the cool misty rain.
Besides the weather, June also offers other pleasantries. In late May, the local farmers in my countryside town plant their rice. Do you know how rice is grown? Well first, they soak the dirt for about a week, then plant the sprouts, all the while keeping the field filled with water resembling a rectangular pond of green, grassy rows. Since the water simulates a pond, it attracts a home for creatures such as frogs, and uh, mosquitos. This phenomenon makes nighttime a conundrum. On one hand, the soothing nighttime sound of froggies and open windows make for the perfect lullaby. While, on the other hand, open windows must have screens that shut properly, otherwise you become the sleeping dinner to annoying pests.
Since we’re on the topic, don’t trust screens. What am I saying? No, don’t trust mosquitos. They are rotten, little disease bags. My summer night ritual consists of filling up two large water bottles and placing them in the fridge for the next day, then chasing mosquitos until I have reclaimed all the blood they have stolen from me. Not until then, can I enjoy my cold goodnight shower, only to recoil beside my nay-saying fan as I read or study myself to sleep.
This time of early summer also beckons the ume. Ume means plum. Gabe told me that he believes that ume is not plum, but unripe apricots. I am seriously considering his hypothesis, but am waiting until my ume ripens before I taste and finally make any conclusions. This onset of the plum makes two very exciting promises. My personal favorite is Umeshu. Last year, I came across a recipe for Umeshu (plum wine as it is called in America) in the grocery store. That’s the cool thing about the Japanese, they make it incredibly easy to follow seasonal traditions. How sweet of the grocers to move the large bottles of white liquor and rock sugar over to the produce section of the store. Right there beside the tall piles of ume bags (perfectly measured to wash and throw into the bottom of the 5 litre bottles)! How wonderfully convenient! Last year, I made some. It takes 3 months to soak in the ume taste properly, which means that this concoction becomes fit to drink upon the onset of Autumn. The other big use for unripened ume during this time is to prepare umeboshi. Umeboshi are salted plums that are eaten with rice, usually in bento boxes.
As shown by my blatant abandonment of updating my blog, time runs fast in Japan. Seasons change suddenly. You will just start getting used to mikan season, when suddenly it becomes ichigo season. (Translation: Mikans are Mandarin oranges, sweet tangerines, that grow during the autumn. Suddenly, they disappear from the shelves, and ichigo appears. Ichigo are strawberries. The oncoming of strawberries marks that winter is now here. The sakura then begin to populate the naked trees, and before you have the chance to pull your camera from your bag, the wind blows them down, and suddenly the pink and white trees become a light, leafy green.
I am now finishing my second year in Japan. I have experienced each of these yearly phenomena twice now. Finally, I think I understand. Go ahead and call me stupid for barely figuring things out, I don’t mind. This place has made me feel stupid and unprepared for things since I’ve first arrived. However, I am about to cross the third year mark. I arrived here in August 6th, 2006, and we are rapidly approaching the anniversary of that date. This is why I am writing today.
Despite nine months of preparing to move to Japan, I was still a bit in shock and awe throughout my first year here. That’s what life as a first year JET is, really. Adjusting, exploring, and walking around like someone afflicted with Down Syndrome. As a second year JET, you begin to realize and understand the purpose of things, and you are given the chance to improve things that you botched the first time around.
Like I mentioned earlier, I will soon be beginning my third year. There aren’t any excuses I can make for myself anymore. I intend on doing things better this time around.
I am basically referring to things at school, such as teaching and participating in school events, however, it extends into other important areas such as daily life and Japanese study.
I am best at tending to my goals, when I have collected them all together in one place.
Some things I will focus on (chronologically speaking, yet at the same time, no specific order):
1) Making Summer count----swimming (our school has a pool), riding my bike by the river, drinking by the river, standing in the river, camping, and making goals for the school-less days ahead of me.
2) Welcoming and truly helping the new kiddies who have been placed in Shimada and close areas.
3) Seminars---doing them well this time
4) Saving money
5) Visiting home during Christmas (successful America shopping)
6) Taking on more responsibility at school during the new school year
7) Caring and preparing for bunkasai much earlier
8) Traveling around Japan—specifically Okinawa and the south
9) Get my license and buy a motorbike, in order to explore in more depth.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Apples
For some, it is waking up in the tank
For others, it is beating the shit out of their toddler
For me, it was finding The Genius of the Crowd
hugging the bookmark I made for him in second grade.
The bookcase was amess with reasons.
For others, it is beating the shit out of their toddler
For me, it was finding The Genius of the Crowd
hugging the bookmark I made for him in second grade.
The bookcase was amess with reasons.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Samuiiiiiiiiiiiiii
"Fuck Christmas, Fuck New Years, Fuck Martin Luther King Junior!
Winter's nothing but another shitty year's three month hangover."
drunken shouting senior citizen, presumed homeless
People's Park, 2005
Winter's nothing but another shitty year's three month hangover."
drunken shouting senior citizen, presumed homeless
People's Park, 2005
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Sleep
"No one uses the phone anymore
The tracks are wrecked and the odometer's ticking
The edge is pushed and the lines are melting
Too scared to look at what I hear outside....release"
AFK by Pinback
There were too many bad days, so in attempt to set things right, I've gone into purification mode. I'm on a schedule in order to keep my mind from going to the bad place. I wake up, go to school, stay late and study Japanese or wander around and talk to the kids or fool around in their clubs. I come home, have dinner while watching ridiculous game shows, take a walk or ride my bike around the dark country roads. I bring my Ipod, but listen to Japanese quizzes rather than music. I'm not sure if I like this, but I continue to do it. I prefer to be close to the river that runs by the forest. I turn around just before the trees become too dense. I use the word 'become' more often. I blame Japanese. I return home and bathe. Sometimes I bring my cold water bottle into the shower with me. I like how it feels to drink ice cold water while hot water washes down my face. I only do this after I exercise. It would seem wasteful or out-of-sync if I did this at any other time. Occasionally, I'll go straight to my desk and write for awhile, while other times I'll lie on my bed and make lists. Usually they are practical lists, you know, like things to do tomorrow, things I need to buy before my trip home, reasons I should stop (insert habit here). But no matter what I do after my shower, I will always read before going to sleep. And that is what I like most about my extended periods without toxins, reading before bed. I have problems reading while drunk. Whenever I try to do this, I read much too fast out of eagerness and end up remembering nothing by the time I hit the end of the page. At those times, I usually pass out before I get the chance to turn another page. The best thing to read into sleep is a quality collection of short stories. Despite my love for reading, I don't know much about books. I was made to read plenty of them in school, but I don't really know about new things or bestsellers or things like that. So since being recommended a couple of good ones, I've become obsessed. Two weeks ago, Leonie lent me Haruki Murakami's After the Quake. I was unaware that it was another collection of short stories. I read all but one story by the time my train pulled into Shimada station. I was so disappointed in myself for finishing it so quickly. That night, I read the last story and went to bed. A couple days later, I went to the bookstore and decided to buy another Murakami since I felt a little cheated by the brevity of book I had just read. The Elephant Vanishes was much thicker, so I somehow felt comforted. Since then, I have limited myself to only one story per night. After I finished last night's story, Sleep, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take my eyes off the last word. Coincidently, the word was 'over'. But it didn't feel over. I was in a perfectly fine mood when I laid down and opened to the folded corner at the top of the page. I had just finished talking to Gabriel, and debated whether or not it was too late to get in a quick story. Obviously, it's never too late. The beginning reminded me of Fight Club, while the middle seemed to reverberate the usual Murakami haze of disattachment, abnormal normality, and the apathetic romanticism which leads you along like a paper lullaby. As I read on, I began to realize this character was me. I wasn't scared to read me in someone's book, not at all. And I wasn't scared when I read that terrifying final paragraph of the story. I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't take my eyes off the last word, sure, but I wasn't scared. I was something else. This morning I woke up crying. I doubt it had anything to do with the story I read last night, but nevertheless, I decided to link these two moments of my life together, here, for the sheer convenience that where one day ended, another began. I was crying in my sleep, and I remember the dream. In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. The first person I saw today as I rode my bike into the school gates was Yamaguchi-sensei. It was his words, in my dream, that had caused me to sob like a bereaved child. He's a really nice guy, and one of my favorite teachers at school. In fact, when I recounted to Gabby what exactly he said to me that had hurt my feelings, I felt silly. It wasn't until I spoke the words out loud that I realized these things would never affect a wakeful Toby. No, not at all. However, I still agree that if I could, I'd read instead of sleep, just like I did in the story. If not for only free time, but from an escape from subconsciousness.
The tracks are wrecked and the odometer's ticking
The edge is pushed and the lines are melting
Too scared to look at what I hear outside....release"
AFK by Pinback
There were too many bad days, so in attempt to set things right, I've gone into purification mode. I'm on a schedule in order to keep my mind from going to the bad place. I wake up, go to school, stay late and study Japanese or wander around and talk to the kids or fool around in their clubs. I come home, have dinner while watching ridiculous game shows, take a walk or ride my bike around the dark country roads. I bring my Ipod, but listen to Japanese quizzes rather than music. I'm not sure if I like this, but I continue to do it. I prefer to be close to the river that runs by the forest. I turn around just before the trees become too dense. I use the word 'become' more often. I blame Japanese. I return home and bathe. Sometimes I bring my cold water bottle into the shower with me. I like how it feels to drink ice cold water while hot water washes down my face. I only do this after I exercise. It would seem wasteful or out-of-sync if I did this at any other time. Occasionally, I'll go straight to my desk and write for awhile, while other times I'll lie on my bed and make lists. Usually they are practical lists, you know, like things to do tomorrow, things I need to buy before my trip home, reasons I should stop (insert habit here). But no matter what I do after my shower, I will always read before going to sleep. And that is what I like most about my extended periods without toxins, reading before bed. I have problems reading while drunk. Whenever I try to do this, I read much too fast out of eagerness and end up remembering nothing by the time I hit the end of the page. At those times, I usually pass out before I get the chance to turn another page. The best thing to read into sleep is a quality collection of short stories. Despite my love for reading, I don't know much about books. I was made to read plenty of them in school, but I don't really know about new things or bestsellers or things like that. So since being recommended a couple of good ones, I've become obsessed. Two weeks ago, Leonie lent me Haruki Murakami's After the Quake. I was unaware that it was another collection of short stories. I read all but one story by the time my train pulled into Shimada station. I was so disappointed in myself for finishing it so quickly. That night, I read the last story and went to bed. A couple days later, I went to the bookstore and decided to buy another Murakami since I felt a little cheated by the brevity of book I had just read. The Elephant Vanishes was much thicker, so I somehow felt comforted. Since then, I have limited myself to only one story per night. After I finished last night's story, Sleep, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take my eyes off the last word. Coincidently, the word was 'over'. But it didn't feel over. I was in a perfectly fine mood when I laid down and opened to the folded corner at the top of the page. I had just finished talking to Gabriel, and debated whether or not it was too late to get in a quick story. Obviously, it's never too late. The beginning reminded me of Fight Club, while the middle seemed to reverberate the usual Murakami haze of disattachment, abnormal normality, and the apathetic romanticism which leads you along like a paper lullaby. As I read on, I began to realize this character was me. I wasn't scared to read me in someone's book, not at all. And I wasn't scared when I read that terrifying final paragraph of the story. I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't take my eyes off the last word, sure, but I wasn't scared. I was something else. This morning I woke up crying. I doubt it had anything to do with the story I read last night, but nevertheless, I decided to link these two moments of my life together, here, for the sheer convenience that where one day ended, another began. I was crying in my sleep, and I remember the dream. In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. The first person I saw today as I rode my bike into the school gates was Yamaguchi-sensei. It was his words, in my dream, that had caused me to sob like a bereaved child. He's a really nice guy, and one of my favorite teachers at school. In fact, when I recounted to Gabby what exactly he said to me that had hurt my feelings, I felt silly. It wasn't until I spoke the words out loud that I realized these things would never affect a wakeful Toby. No, not at all. However, I still agree that if I could, I'd read instead of sleep, just like I did in the story. If not for only free time, but from an escape from subconsciousness.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
How to keep kool in Skool-Lesson 1
I hate her.
But she's got 2 young children still in junior high school.
I imagine that their voices become high in excitement when she walks through the door at night.
I think about this when she scowls after she thinks my back is turned.
But she's got 2 young children still in junior high school.
I imagine that their voices become high in excitement when she walks through the door at night.
I think about this when she scowls after she thinks my back is turned.
Monday, April 30, 2007
You sunk my battleship
We'd argue twenty moves ahead. I'd bet on the peices and you'd vote for the placement. I'd say, "i have 4 of your men and you have 3 of mine". You'd recount by pointing to my awkward strategy. I gave you the evil eye for castling your heart, while you'd retort "tried tested and true". But yr traditional moves are a bore and we play no more. I have little strategy, not to say I have little sympathy. I know my men and i know yours, and i see you coming from the distance. I don't fear you all around. Because I trust my instincts and I trust my foresight and i trust my vengeance. Yr knights are nothing, yr pawns are nothing, and our queens are dead. During these moments i see you detach and recoil. I silently curse yr soft mind and fallen shield. If you fail yrself, you'll fail me. If you rely on defense, its merely waiting for yr lover's mistake, If you attack like a Queen, you die like a King.
It's never just a game, and i always told you so.
My move:H3G4
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