Flock of Chickens

Your results:
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)

Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 65% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 60% Alliance 55% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 50% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 50% Wash (Ship Pilot) 50% Inara Serra (Companion) 45% Derrial Book (Shepherd) 40% River (Stowaway) 35% Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 30% A Reaver (Cannibal) 5%

Honest and a defender of the innocent. You sometimes make mistakes in judgment but you are generally good and would protect your crew from harm.

Click here to take the Serenity Firefly Personality Test

Your results:
You are Dr. Doom

Dr. Doom 81% Mr. Freeze 64% Lex Luthor 60% Venom 58% Apocalypse 56% Kingpin 53% The Joker 53% Dark Phoenix 53% Two-Face 53% Green Goblin 49% Magneto 46% Juggernaut 45% Riddler 37% Poison Ivy 35% Catwoman 25% Mystique 21%

Blessed with smarts and power but burdened by vanity.

Click here to take the "Which Super Villain are you?" quiz...

I've always had a love/hate relationship with sleep. I love to do it in excess, and I hate what that means for my schedule. What's more, though sleeping in comes more naturally than breathing air (I can easily go 12-15 hours at a go if I wanted to), getting to sleep is less easy. So I only have control over when I get up, rather than when I succumb. And that control over getting up is.. sporadic at best. I am pretty good at getting up if I absolutely need to (for a job or what have you), but I display less alacrity when getting up for something I deem optional (hanging out with friends, going shopping, class..). This always frustrates me, as I enevitably wish I had been able to rouse myself to partake in whatever activity I missed out on.

This problem was so severe, one semester, that I almost got into some real academic trouble. My sleep schedule was entirely fubar'd. Try as I might, I couldn't go to bed early, and as a result I slept through all of my classes with some regularity. Or, given the nature of college classes, I would wake up for my first class, come back to nap in the several hour block of time until my next one, and proceed to sleep through it. My grades suffered, though not as much as they should have (I had the highest grade in my entire Programming Languages class, despite having only attended.. 6 or 7 times the whole semester? I aced the midterm, and obviously did well on the final). I missed research meetings, project meeting, what have you- even those scheduled in the evening. I was thankfully able to recover during the break between semesters, as evidently a few solid weeks of sleeping in as long as I wanted cured my sleep deficit, and I was able to get it largely back on track schedule wise.

But I still suffer from bouts of sleep issues. Currently, it's of the "not being able to get to bed" variety. And it baffles me. I fell asleep watching TV at midnight, roused myself to brush my teeth and put myself properly to bed, and promptly lay awake for two and a half hours. Gah.

I've heard that sleep comes in cycles or the like, and my experiences suggest that this may be so. Wikipedia reveals some truth in this: take a look at this. I don't know the specifics of how it affects me, but I was able to nail down a circadian rhythm sleep disorder that sounds a lot like mine: Non-24-hour sleep-wake syndrome. I have often felt I don't sleep on a 24 hour clock, and I thought that maybe no one does. Turns out, it's mostly just me. There seem to be some remedies available, which I shall have to investigate.

Also related to circadian rhythm (possibly..) is the fact that how tired I am after waking seems almost entirely independent of how much sleep I've gotten. Unless I wake up "normally," the tiredness seems randomized. I've had days where I can be bright eyed and bushy tailed after an hour and a half of sleep, and others where I've gotten 10 hours and been run down. the latter is sadly more common, as I tend to almost be a zombie when not properly rested. It's a real issue, as a matter of fact- I can barely function. Some people just get cranky or irritable (though I do that too), but I've encountered very few who seem to have the cognitive shut-down that I seem to when sleep deprived. Conversely, I can stay UP for ridiculous hours and still think straight. It's the getting up early that kills me.

I'm currently unemployed. Once this changes, I'm thinking it would be seriously worth my time to go to a sleep clinic and get some professional attention. I miss seeing the sun for more than an hour a day.

In an entirely unrelated note, I'm glad to notice that Eric Burns seems to be updating Websnark with some regularity again. I had missed his frequent writings, and I hope that his state of tharn has truly come to an end.

I have just finished applying to the Ph.D. programs at five of the top graduate schools in the nation for computer science. After a period of unconsciousness, I shall apply to another two. It's been a surprisingly harrowing experience. I tried conveying to a friend of mine the levels of stress I was feeling. His response was to ask, quite genuinely, "Isn't it just filling out forms?" At first blush, yes. It's exactly that. Most of the applications require very basic data which I pretty much have memorized. They all require some form of a statement of purpose (which is slightly more involved and stressful than the mere filling out of forms), but that becomes copy and paste after it's been written. Why, then, am I stressing out?

The answer is multifaceted. These forms, straightforward though they be, have the potential to drastically affect the entire course of my life. A missed word, even letter, might mean the difference between a successfully completed application and one that gets thrown into the trash heap. Some applications have safeguards in place to ensure this doesn't happen. Some don't. All have optional fields which I absolutely need to fill out to have the best application possible. But, if I've forgotten something, the forms won't tell me. Almost all of the applications require me to upload something. What if the file is corrupted during the transfer, and I don't realize it? What if I forget to change the name of the school I'm applying to in my statement of purpose? What if I make a typo, and they consider it an attempt at fraud? These may just be forms, but given the stakes involved, there's a lot of nervewracking issues.

The deadlines. My eternal foe. The magical dates which, if the applications aren't recieved by, render the entire work meaningless. Oh, I'm not concerned about actually submitting the applications. That's totally within my control. I'm worried over the things that *aren't* mine to control. For instance, will my transcripts reach the schools in time? Ideally, I would have sent them out months ago. But when is life ever ideal? I didn't even have my complete list of grad schools nailed down until about two weeks ago. I sent the transcripts out using the fastest (and, I should mention, the most expensive) delivery service available, but they still can't guarantee delivery by a certain date. So, essentially, I could be getting completely screwed out of the grad schools I want to go to by virtue of a hiccup in the mail system. Ditto on my GRE scores; I'm sure they've gotten to three of my choices (since I had the scores sent when I took the test), but the others? God I hope so. But it's not something I can do anything about. Letters of reccomendation are similar, but I can at least take action and bug my profs about them. Still, what happens if a crisis occurs, and they're unable to submit the letters by the deadline? Not an encouraging thought.

Really, though, the most stressful aspect of applying to grad schools has nothing to do with the actual process of applying. For me, at the very least, the thing causing the most fear in my heart is doubt. Doubt that I'm going to be accepted. Doubt that my credentials, great as they are, will be enough. Sure, I've got three years of research experience. Numerous peer-reviewed publications, including first author of a book chapter. Awards and honors. A respectable GPA. Great GRE scores. But you know what? I can't be sure that it will be enough. These schools are recieving applications from the best and brightest computer scientists in the world. Am I going to be among the top 40-70 applicants out of 2500 applications? That's what it boils down to. A professor (and research partner) of mine told me that he applied to Stanford for graduate school, and was rejected. He found out later that he was something like 85th on the list. A very respectable position to be sure, out of several thousand applicants. But there were only forty positions open. As great as he was, he still wouldn't have made it in even if there had been twice as many positions available. That's sobering. As that same professor has often put it, "Sometimes it comes down to who can play the oboe." So, I'll apply. I'll hope. But I still have to face the fact that this may all amount to a toss of the dice. If the applicant pool is weak this year, I might have no problem getting in to all of the places I want to go. If a couple hundred wunderkinds with research experience on par with my own, 4.0 GPAs and perfect GRE scores apply.. it's less likely.

What will I do if I don't get in? If my lofty goals prove too high? I'm honestly not sure. I have a few safety schools that I'm applying to, but is that really what I want to do? Spend the next six years of my life at an institution I didn't really even want to go to? Well, I might have to. But, I might decide to push graduate school back another year. Continue trying to find a job in the industry (though that's a post for another time). Publish some more papers. Make sure I apply to a load of fellowships (something I REALLY wish had been imparted to me before the deadlines had passed), since if I can get external funding, I'm almost assured entrance to even the most elite of institutions (why not, if they don't have to pay for me?).

It's time to toss the dice.

Here it is:

My Johari Window

Everyone go pick some adjectives that describe me.

It's been nigh on... four months since I've updated my livejournal. This can be partly attributed to the existence of my other blog, www.grandiloquent.net, but only partly. The other blog went through a long dry spell as well. Let me just say that Eric's problems with writing while preoccupied are not unique. It's quite surprising, in fact, how the urge to update consistently gets sucked right out of you when you have other things on your mind. Things that I'm not about to repeat here, as I'm neither fourteen years old nor a girl.

Suffice it to say, though it's been a while, things have been going on in my life. A few of those things have prompted me to write this entry. Let me elucidate.

I trust you remember the musing on webcomics I expounded uponlast summer? Here's a brief summary, for those who can't be bothered to read through the two whole entries I linked to: I want to make a webcomic, my skills of an artist suck, hence, no webcomic. I also made mention of the fact that I saw Eric Burns, of Websnark fame, as sort of "living my dream," as it were. He, too, yearned to create a webcomic, so he found an artist, and the webcomic they created continues to this very day (though there's been a change in artist, as of late). I was quite envious of their successful realization of my desire.

So. That was then. Now, I sit here, sipping my gormet chocolate tea, and am a man possessed. Well, more acurately, I'm a man who now possesses an artist. You see, one of the many friends I accumulated last semester in Japan (for those not in the know, I've returned for a second one) is an art major who impressed me immediately with her talent. I recall quipping "You should make a webcomic!" to which she apathetically replied, "Ugh, no way. I don't want to bother writing one. You write it, and I'll draw it." Though, naturally, this idea began percolating in my mind, I was not immediately willing to commit to the endeavor. This changed, in part do to the personal pain which I realized could doubtless be converted into webcomic gold! So, I began fleshing out the epic story I've had in the back of my head for the last few years, and explained it (in bits in pieces) to Karen (the artist I've described to you). She found the concept to be to her liking, and so our work began.

Well, more accurately, we agreed to begin the project, then Karen went to Thailand to study Muay Thai kickboxing over the winter holiday, while I returned to the frigid wasteland I call home. After moping for about a week, I began to actually start developing details about the world, characters, and plot we were proportedly going to be making a webcomic about. Karen's internet access was limited, so we didn't really communicate much. I think maybe.. two or three emails were exchanged. But, I had found a muse, and got about 20 pages worth of info penned before reuniting with Karen in Nihon.

We spent several days discussing said information, and then sat down to hammer out some character designs. Though very sketchy, I think you'll agree with me: they rock.



Though the character design stage is ongoing (as there are many more characters to design, and the ones I've presented are still undergoing changes), over the last few days we attempted a new task: creating a test comic. As the writer, I wanted to get a sense of how to best present my ideas to Karen, who of course is in charge of making them pretty. So, I threw together a page long script (nothing glamorous, and growing less so as I have time to re-read it), and Karen made it an actual page. It's completely non-canon, so assume nothing from it's content. Check it out:

Test Comic!!

It seems like I've been out drinking a lot, recently. Well, not any more.

I got drunk for the first time last night; well, as close as I'll probably ever get, most likely. It wasn't a fun experience. I mostly did so because many of my friends here were very keen to see what I'd be like, drunk. One thing I most definitely was not was happy. Many people have told me they enjoy drinking to drunkenness because of the "happy feeling" that goes along with such a state. It was decidedly lacking, in my case. It was, in fact, quite the opposite. I came to the bar relatively upbeat. Once I got drunk, I became horribly depressed. There are a few things I feel worth noting, however:

I was actually pretty scared of what I might do if I got drunk. Not violence or anything like that (I would have been very surprised if I was a violent drunk)- I was more afraid of what I might say or do with my inhibitions removed. Such as what a friend of mine who went with us drinking and also got drunk did. He's usually a very quiet person. When he drinks (and he never had before coming here- he used to be a mormon. He still hasn't ever had coffee), he starts talking. A lot. And yesterday, when he was really, really drunk (for only the second time ever), he started delving into subjects that I really wish he hadn't. I won't repost them here, but suffice it to say, it was far too personal. Nothing about other people, just stuff about his own life that I would have remained happier not knowing.

So, needless to say, I was quite happy (well, after the fact) when, upon getting thoroughly tipsy, I became quiet and reclusive. No talking about things I shouldn't (and there are a few of those), no inappropriate touching (there were about ten very attractive girls who were at the bar drinking with us, several of whom definitely did become touchy-feely upon imbibing alcohol), and no violence. I'm actually quite the boring (and depressing) drunk. That actually made me feel worse, since my friend Tiffany (who started downing shots of my sake to prevent me from drinking more, as the evening progressed) kept trying to get me to tell her what was making me so sad. Sadness is infectious, unfortunately. And, really, I had nothing to tell her- it was just the same crap I whined about in my previous entry. The alcohol just made me unable to put it out of mind.

After we finally squared away the bill (I ended up paying about $50-60 for what should have only been $35 for me. Other people didn't pay what they owed, apparently, and I didn't have any change save a 10,000 yen note ($100). So, I guess I was paying for a number of people's drinks. I'm such a great guy), this line of questioning continued as we waltzed home from the bar. There was a brief detour to locate the friend I mentioned before (he had wandered off with some of the others to do more drinking in a nearby park), and then Futurama in my dorm room. This was again made less enjoyable due to my continuing alcohol induced malaise, but was still fun. And hey, the story ends with me sleeping with a pretty girl, so that's awesome. (We both nodded off during Futurama. Wait, what did you think I was talking about? You've got a sick mind!)

According to John Q. Internet, this is what I am:

You are a Social Liberal (70% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (36% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

I've been extremely poor at updating my journals of late. Gomen. Most days I'm out doing things until I collapse from exaustion, so I typically don't have a few spare hours to write.

Wow, it's been almost a month. Yikes. Still, this post is timely, given the content of my last post. That girl? She went drinking with us again yesterday. Over the course of the evening, we found out that, while she's straight, she has in fact had oral sex with a woman before (but nothing further, she assures us). Never, ever would have guessed.

My life in Japan has been.. interesting of late.

I spent most of the evening yesterday (post-drinking) walking around Hirakata (the town I'm in) with a friend of mine. Despite only knowing her for about a month, she's now one of my closest friends. I'm not entirely certain how trust grew between us so quickly, but we discussed things I've never talked about before. With anyone. And that, I find, is quite amazing.

On the other hand, another friend here (who isn't as close, but I still am very fond of) has me completely baffled. We spent the day hanging out on Friday. Didn't see each other again until Sunday, when we were both part of a group that went to a flea market in Kyoto. Despite this, we didn't talk much. It indeed felt as though my friend was angry at me. Yesterday at lunch, I inquired if I had in some way offended her. This spawned a short conversation which ended with her telling me, and I quote, "You're smothering me." Though said in a half joking fashion, my stunned requests for confirmation about whether or not she was kidding were met only with silence. I finally told her that I would leave her alone, in that case, and parted ways with her.

I was as good as my word. The rest of the evening I steadfastly avoided any interaction with her, and no attempt was made on her part to change this. Depressing as I find it that I've seem to have lost a friend for reasons which elude me, it is made even more frustrating that a) she lives in my seminar house and b) she hangs out with some of the same people I do. The awkwardness is going to be acute (and has, indeed, already been such) in the future.

An attempt I made this morning to once again discover what, if anything, I had done to piss her off was rebuked with "You keep asking and it keeps making me angrier." I once again said, "Ok, I'll leave you alone." and departed. So, I'm confused. And depressed. And now, I'm heading to lunch.

I've never been a drinker. And, considering I've only been of legal age for a couple of years, that isn't really saying a lot, I know. But I hate the taste of alcohol, which, somewhat intuitively, means I don't drink much. I find beer disgusting (the last two times I've had so much as half a can, I've felt violently ill almost immediately) and wine isn't much better. But, in the spirit of trying new things, I've now gone out drinking with people twice in the last week.

I don't drink to get drunk. The only stuff I'll drink is that which tastes like it isn't alcoholic. I'm reminded of a Kids in the Hall skit where Dave Foley's character becomes a "girl drink alcoholic"- that's the kind of stuff I have. "It tastes like candy!"

But, that's not what I go drinking for. It's actually a surprisingly entertaining way to socialize. Even though I don't get drunk myself, watching others do so is quite amusing. Plus, the alcohol has a way of loosening the ol' tongue. Some of what comes out is entertaining, some is funny, and some is.. well, downright disturbing. Case in point:

One of the girls who went drinking with us last night seems, to look at her, very much like a very quiet, shy person. This illusion was dispelled, however, after she had a few drinks. She then informed everyone at the table (and I forget exactly how this came up) that she was heavily in to S&M and had, in fact, since arriving in Kansai Gaidai less than three weeks ago, entered into a purely sexual relationship with a guy who is also into such things.

Yeah.

Another girl with us (the Brit who doesn't like Tea, for those who keep abreast of my other blog) was immediately stunned by this revelation, and began asserting that she, at least, was not into such things. I presume she figured that, keeping company with the other girl, we would all assume they shared similar "interests." While I chuckled at her repeated assertions that she wasn't into S&M, the first girl, a grin on her face, interjected "Oh, you should try it! It's so fun!"

Yeah.

I should also mention that I now know how the Dutch say the word "rimjob" in their language. What can I say; drinking seems to bring the most foul things imaginable to forefront of peoples' minds. It's a lot of fun.

It's like I'm a thirsty man stuck aboard a raft in the middle of the ocean. I can, at almost any time of the day, turn on the TV and find some anime. But, the fact that, despite my modest amount of Japanese learnin', I cannot understand any of it makes it extremely vexing. Other than an episode of Ranma 1/2 that was pretty much as straightforward as it can get and an episode of Fullmetal Alchemist which I'd seen before, I've watched no anime since coming to Japan. A pox on you, foreign devils, for your constant temptation!

The first day I was here (well, the second, technically. But the first day I actually *woke up* here) I had to take a Japanese placement exam to determine which class I would be put in. It was a bitch of a test, too. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say: I'm glad that the real exams are easier. A lot easier. So, I took this placement exam, and got put into Japanese level 3. Level 3 covers chapters 18-twenty something of the second Genki textbook. Well, during the summer, I learned all 12 chapters of the first Genki textbook. Some basic math will tell you that there is a small gap in between chapter 12 and chapter 18.

Well, flattered as I was that they thought so highly of my Japanese speaking ability, I was quite certain that level 3 was not the class for me. A week full of "review" of completely new material firmly established this fact in my mind. Still, I aced all of the homework they gave me, and several classmates seemed surprised I was considering dropping to level 2. Well, drop I did.

My first level 2 class was yesterday. It wasn't so much a class as it was a test. A test which, though I knew I would be taking it, I did not study for. At all. Because I didn't need to. Arrogant? Yes. Accurate? You tell me. I just got my test back today. I got 49.5 out of 50, having lost half a point for a spelling error (a typo, really; I forgot a small "tsu" by accident). So yes; I think my choice to spend Sunday night enjoying myself rather than studying was a good one. And, it reinforces that my summer education was definitely not a waste of time.

And hey, I've got to say: it rocks to be able to tell people you've only been studying Japanese for 10 weeks. The Japanese flip out. Of course, they do that if you can say anything more than "thank you" and "good morning." What is more satisfying is the reaction of the other international students, some of whom have been studying Japanese for multiple years and placed into lower levels.

Unfortunately, as time wears on, I will of course no longer be able to say I've been studying for 10 weeks. I suppose technically I shouldn't be able to say that now; if you count the last week of "review," I'm already up to 11 weeks. Bugger.

..and now, apparently, I'm DMing for a DnD group. How the hell did that happen? This is made slightly complicated by my lack of books here.. but, with the SRD on hand, it will be a surmountable problem. I'd try a different system (given that there are many out there far superior to d20), but I'm afraid my lack of books means that d20 is the only one I can handily do.

It was, in fact, extremely amusing how this occurred. Several dorm mates (about five of us, total) were eating dinner in the common area, discussing completely non-nerdy things. Someone then made a crack about how we should start referring to yen as "gold pieces" and I interjected that it would be more appropriate to call them "copper pieces." This spawned a conversation about the origin of these terms (the DnD coinage system, for those who might be uninformed) and several jokes about everyone here being a nerd were made. And, sure enough, when DnD was brought up, everyone at the table immediately went "Oh, I love D&D!" And then someone said, "Who wants to play it right now?" and everyone raised their hand. And, being the foolish man I am, I declared I would GM. Yeah, we're a bunch of nerds here.

But hey, gaming! I've gone the summer without. Though, I was really hoping to, you know, be a player, not a GM. What the hell was I thinking? Oh well, it will still be fun. I'm glad I remembered to bring a set of dice, "just in case." Perhaps we can make it slightly less obscene if we game while like, touring Kyoto. As long as someone has something portable for dice rolling, there's no reason we can't do it on the move, just like any conversation.

NERD!!

I've created a new blog. This was done largely so that I could convey my experiences in Japan to those who I'd rather not give a link to my livejournal. I've moved several of my recent posts over, for completeness. In the future, however, I'll be putting those posts which are suitable for public consumption over on the other blog and not here. Thus, you'll have to check both to see everything.

And by the way? Took way longer to set up than I thought it would. I'll still be ironing out the kinks in the near future.

I was bumming around Osaka yesterday with Tim when, much to surprise, an elderly (and very drunk) Japanese businessman walked over to our section of the train, rubbed me on the belly, and grinning broadly, shook my hand. A very confused me returned the handshake, and proceeded to discuss the exchange with Tim. I guess this is just what happens when drunk Japanese people attack.

The Japanese use bicycles. A lot. It makes sense, really; gas over here is incredibly expensive, cars are taxed to high heaven to discourage their use (not that it works) and the trains only go to certain stops. Still, I find it extremely strange that, given their propensity for bicycle use, Japan seems to go out of its way to make biking as hazardous as possible.

I should explain. I recently purchased a bicycle with the aid of my speaking partner, Yasuko. At my repeated requests for a "yasui jitensha" (cheap bicycle) he knocked about 1800 yen (about 18 dollars) off the price. It was still more than a hundred dollars. Yet, it has already been worth it. The 25 minute trek to campus has been more than cut in half, which gives me considerably more flexibility when it comes to times I need to be there for class. The bike itself, however, is strange: it seems made for like, an old lady or something. There is only a single gear, which is strange. The handle bars are extremely close together, which is also strange. It handles.. ok, I guess, but it is not as snazzy as the products I can recall being a marvel of American engineering. But I digress. It is servicable.

Riding my bike around is handy, but it scares the everloving shit out of me. I mentioned that Japan seems to make biking as dangerous as possible. Let me explain why. There are, by and large, no sidewalks. Luckily, on my usual route to school, large stretches of the road do have a sidewalk, but this is by far the exception rather than the rule. Most places, you'll be biking on the side of a driving lane. I cannot quite convey how strange it is to be bicycling and have cars (or buses) pass less than two feet away from you. But, this is how it is in Japan. The Japanese people seem to just ignore it. And, surprisingly, there are very few accidents.

But biking really close to cars isn't all. The sidewalks, when they exist, are littered with obstacles you must navigate. Every fifty feet or so they typically put a set of posts. There is enough space in between them that you can pass through while on a bicycle, but there isn't a lot of room for error. This becomes complicated when you encounter the inevitable (and frequent) pedestrian or fellow biker. The Japanese seem to have developed a sixth sense for dealing with such things (I've seen whole flocks of bicyclists pass through a crowd of people on food, on the sidewalk, without slowing down or hitting anyone) but needless to say, I have not.

I have not yet had an accident. However, the sheer number of obstacles combined with the regularity in which I bike past them seems to suggest that it would be a statistical impossibility for me to make it through the semester without at least one. I just hope it is of the inanimate, non-moving variety.

...is that in a few weeks, I will be able to head to Tokyo and take in the Tokyo Game Show. Yes, this is the E3 of Japan. And I will get to go. Boo. Yah.

It will be pricey to head to Tokyo, of course, but I was absolutely certain I would go there some time during my stay here, and there seems no better time to go than for the TGS. Rumors have it that the Nintendo Revolution will be unveiled there. And, even if not, chances are that I'll get to play tons of games that are yet to be released, many (if not most) on the X-box 360 or the Playstation 3.

Ah, the nerdliness. It sustains me.

One of my friends here at Kansai is, apparently, doing his homestay with a family who has close ties to the Yakuza. Yeah. That kinda creeps me out, a bit. Apparently they took him to a Yakuza-run fair, and introduced him to several of their Yakuza friends. Despite unbeatable prices on choice electronics (he said you can buy a Nintendo DS for at least a hundred dollars less than you can elsewhere- one guess why), the whole thing made him feel uneasy. Justifiably so, I would say. Furthermore, he has yet to meet his host father. The explanation given for this is that his host father, who is a karate instructor, is on Mount Fuji teaching karate to his students. Is this just a euphemism for "out killing enemies of the Yakuza"? Only time will tell.

In an unrelated note, the complexities caused by the language barrier here can be quite maddening. Plus, discourse with the natives? Halting and uninteresting at best. Being able to say such rudimentary things as "I don't like sports" and "What kind of music do you listen to?" makes for conversations chock full of small talk. Really, really lame small talk. But, interestingly, I found out that apparently my speaking partner's favorite activity to do during summer vacation is get drunk with her friends. Not exactly unique, but funny none the less. She's 18, which makes it a bit strange, too. I mean, 18 year old Americans never get drunk, right? Oh yeah- sarcasm? The lack of it in Japanese causes me daily pain.

Apparently, the Japanese (at least those of the female variety) like to use emoticons. A lot. And they seem much more creative with them than we are. Here's an email I recieved recently:

こちらこそどうもありがとう☆私は関西はあんまり知らないから、うまく案内できなくてごめんねm(_ _)mエルリーは日本語勉強しはじめて6週間のわりにはとてもうまくてびっくりしたよ！
早口言葉→「となりのきゃくは、よくかきくうきゃくだ」「なまむぎなまごめなまたまご」新しいやつ→「ぼうずがびょうぶにじょうずにぼうずのえを書いた」
カラオケいいね(^_^)vでも私も歌はうまくうたえないよ(-.-;)

(emphasis added to the emoticons. And the star, which I guess is part of their punctuation or something.)

I have similar emails from different girls that share these trends, but this is a representative sample. What does it say? ひーみーつ！

The point is, in a language proportedly without much punctuation, they've managed to make clever ascii art part of their normal communications. I am unsure how I feel about this puzzling factoid.

After an extremely long (yet not nearly as boring as it could have been) welcoming address this morning, we were given a complementary banquet. And I should tell you- the Japanese don't fuck around when it comes to giving you good food. I took pictures, but they don't do it justice. Extremely, extremely good. Tempura, sushi, glazed ham, fruit, and more. All of it excellent. I haven't had a bad meal here yet. (Some sub-par snacks, but I'll get to that in a bit.)

After the banquet I was finally able to change out of my semi-formal attire (dress shirt, slacks and tie. I am sooo glad I opted against wearing the sports jacket. 90 degree weather plus 60% humidity are not sports jacket weather for this Minnesotan.), which proved to be a very wise choice. I finally got to meet my speaking partner, Yasuko Miyazaki, about a half hour before the "Kyoto Tour" that was scheduled for the evening. Our meeting was.. awkward. I know very little Japanese, and she knows very little English. Our conversation mostly consisted of me trying to think of things I know how to say in Japanese, failing, and muttering "sumimasen" (I'm sorry) a lot. So.. that wasn't so great.

The Kyoto tour, however, was, save for one notable exception, absolutely fantastic. A new friend of mine (by the name of Matt) and I got paired with two Japanese girls (Erika and Masami) to go on the tour with. They were exceptionally nice to us, and very forgiving of our poor Japanese. They, thankfully, spoke much better English than we did Japanese. There was still the occasional communication problem (exacerbated by the fact I didn't bring either my Japanese dictionaries with me), but otherwise, the night went very smoothly.

I feel it worth mentioning that, about a half hour into the tour, the four of us were on a train heading to Kyoto while exchanging tongue twisters in our respective languages. I regret that I was unable to memorize the Japanese tongue twister they gave us (Matt knows it, I'll bug him to write it down for me later). We, however, taught them "She sells sea shells down by the sea shore," "How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood," "Six sick sheep," and "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers." They seemed greatly amused by these, and had me write down each of them so that they could practice. They did surprisingly well, especially with the sea shells one.

Once we got to Kyoto, we were going to head to a temple that the girls described as "very scary," where, I understand, we could see the blood stain where a samurai got killed many years ago. Unfortunately, we were not able to actually go into the temple. The events surrounding this occurance are strange, and confusing to me. From what the girls were able to translate for us, it seems that because we did not know Japanese, we would not be able to understand the great history of the temple, and could therefore not be allowed in. We suspect that this might mean that, since we don't know Japanese, we might not be able to follow whatever rules there might be inside the temple, but we don't know. It was, as I mentioned, strange.

So, instead, we went to this quaint little japanese desert restaurant and had a desert whose name I do not remember. Once again, Matt wrote it down, and I shall have to bug him for it later. Essentially, it was italian ice. But in a really big bowl. It was quite good. I had strawberry, but I sort of regret that. Matt and Masami both had green tea (or, more precisely, "powdered green tea") flavored, and Erika got what she described as simply "sugar." Strawberry was fine, but I got to try a taste of the green tea flavor and it was great. One incident of note was that our deserts came with tiny origami cranes, which led me to explain that my last name was, in fact, Crane. Furthermore, a kind elderly Japanese gentlemen struck up a conversation with the girls and, to some extent with us. He actually asked them what the english word was for crane, and they told him. I then remarked, in Japanese, that my name was Crane. He seemed delighted by this fact, and gave me his origami crane in appreciation. As he left, he said something in Japanese that sounded very friendly but which I did not understand. Masami informed me that he said "Goodbye, Mister Crane." That was very cool.

After the desert, we headed to another temple: Kiyomizu Temple (the first link is probably more helpful). It was awesome. I took many pictures which I shall endeavor to post tomorrow, and trying to describe them will not do them justice. Kyoto is fucking beautiful.

As we were leaving Kiyomizu Temple, we witnessed something really awesome that ended up leading to something really unfortunate. Some other Kansai Gaidai students (english speakers) were on the path ahead of us, and seemed to be very excited about something. As we drew nearer, the source of this excitement became clear: a praying mantis was climbing up one of the students. Dude. A praying. Mantis. Naturally, we whipped out our cameras and, I am happy to report, took many, many pictures. I hope that most of them are very sharp, but it was hard to keep the camera steady. This would have just been really, really cool save for what happened next. Matt got in really close to take a picture, and the mantis jumped at him. In his surprise, Matt lost control of his camera and it skittered across the ground. The mantis? Now on a nearby girl's skirt and quickly working its way to her, uh, cleavage. There are some incidental shots of that as I continued to take pictures of the mantis. Ahem. Purely accidental, I assure you.

Matt's camera, however, did not survive the fall gracefully. There was severe external damage (the dial on top to select the camera's mode didn't work at all it was so badly mangled) and the camera, while it would turn on, would only display an error message. So, that really, really sucks. Hopefully, since he just bought his camera a few weeks ago, it is under warranty or something and he can get it replaced without buying a new one. Otherwise..

The trip back to Kansai was fun. We began exchanging information about our respective languages. The girls informed me that using "hai" for yes was far too formal, and that I should instead say "un." Well, I knew this, but I had grown so accustomed to saying "hai" in class that it was hard to say otherwise. There were many instances where I would say "Hai. Er. Un." Which caused them to giggle quite a bit (though this was really quite a frequent occurance, whenever we would try to speak in Japanese. Though the girls were quick to complement our ability to speak their language (I got a satisfying "eeeeh?!" when I told them I had only been studying for ten weeks), I get the feeling that something about how we were talking wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was the constant long forms, which it seems I naturally speak in when not conciously trying to use short forms. I dunno. This parenthetical has become far too long.).

For our part, we tryed to clarify some confusing bits of English for the girls. They inquired about the phrase "Get out of here" which they had been taught to say in class. We explained how, when using a certain intonation, "get out of here" is a command to leave. However, using a different intonation, "get out of here" could be used as an expression of surprise and disbelief, such as "Really?" I also confirmed that saying "Does that make sense?" (which I had been using all day, I should mention) in fact means the same thing as "Do you understand?". We then brought up several issues with English slang that doubtless served to confuse them greatly. For instance, how some people call Coke/Pepsi/Sprite/etc "Pop" (the correct way, I asserted) whereas others referred to it as "Soda" (Matt insisted that this was the proper term) and some, sadly misinformed people (read: the South) called all flavors "Coke." Yeah. I don't know what the hell we were thinking.

Of course, we then tried to explain sarcasm. Lord. They were quite perplexed by how "Thanks a lot" said with one intonation could express a genuine thank you, but said another way could in fact mean the exact opposite. And that tied back into the whole "Get out of here" thing. Of course, I think the crowning achievement of the evening was explaining the "thumbs up" to them. I had been doing this all night, you see, and they found it quite funny. We explained how "thumbs up" meant "ok," or "that's good." They, apparently, were under the impression that the standard hand gesture for this was the somewhat archaic "thumb touching forefinger" signal. We told them that, while that was accurate, it wasn't something you routinely see people do anymore. Of course, this got me thinking that I should explain more about the thumbs up, and I tried to impart to them how it was sometimes used as a reference to Happy Days. What the hell was I on?

Still, they were very nice about everything, and made the trip very enjoyable. It was loads of fun to actually try to communicate in Japanese (and nice to be able to fall back to English when things get complicated), and have native speakers handle difficult things such as chartering cab rides.

We exchanged email addresses, and bid them adieu. Later on, Matt and I promised each other we'd try to take the girls out for karaoke (Sweet Christ what am I thinking?) as a thank you. That will be.. interesting, if it happens.

Japan? Awesome.