slieurghjskasdf!!

Had another Japanese class today, and it's fun. It's a way to relax and chill. I laugh, the students laugh, and the instructor laughs. When I took Japanese in college, the classes, sometimes, for me, served as a coffee-break-like chill session. A stress-free period, where I could crack a few jokes at certain times and make the instructor and the students laugh. Even here, I feel that. Whenever the students were totally stumped on how to say a word in Japanese or were completely clueless, the instructor would point at me and ask me to blurt out the answer. For me it's all about reviewing and reinforcing what I already know. I learn some new words from time to time, and it's a good way for me to brush up on the language.

I feel like I already said the same exact phrase last time. Anyway,

As usual, my classmate and I had lunch together, at the same convenience store. This time the conversation ranged from Pokemon to Japanese culture. 

"You know Pokemon is racist?"

"Hunh?" I took a bite of my yakisoba. 

"The Pokemon, Jynx. How its body is shaped and its dark skin tone," he said, unwrapping a Chinese-style onigiri he brought from home. "And how it goes inside the Pokeball, which represents slavery."

I blankly stared at him for a few seconds, chewing. "How do people think of that stuff? It's a freaking Pokemon for god sakes."

He laughed. "I know, why!" 

But the more I thought about it, the pokemon did seem to show a hint of racism towards african americans. Below is a picture. 

This chemistry major in fact knew a lot of gaming facts. He told me there was a certain tune called the Lavender Town Tune from the game that made gamers around the age of 7-12, commit suicide. The tune had a certain frequency that made children lose their minds, reportedly. 

Anyway enough of that. 

He was fortunate enough to be accepted to a program where young professionals have the opportunity to travel to Japan to teach English to students. Only a selected few are accepted, and the admission rate is very competitive. He was one of the few to be chosen. Altogether the application process takes about a year. This year he will be teaching in Kagoshima, the southern area of Japan. This is definitely something I've wanted to do. But of course, it requires a bachelor's. It's something to consider over the years. 

He asked me for some advice.

"So how do you approach Japanese people?" he asked me. 

"What do you mean? We are humans too you know."

"Like I heard they were shy and... really serious."

I took a swig of my tea. "I can see that, and it is true, for the most part I guess. It's a cultural thing, based on my knowledge. Being polite is really important over there, especially when talking to elders. That's when these overwhelming honorific verbs come into play. But leaving that all aside, if you tell them that you know English, you will lure them in."

"Really? What about girls?"he asked.

"Sure. Because they want to know English. They think it's so cool, kind of like how Americans get intrigued by certain kanji or Chinese characters. You'd find a lot of pseudo English written everywhere in Japan. And, in America, a lot of people with tattoos of Chinese characters missing a stroke or two." 

He nodded, intently thinking about something.

When class ended I didn't know if I had time to meet B, who was, at the time, going to Coney with her friends. But she had time, so I immediately got on board the subway and headed downtown. 

"Where are you?" I was at the meetup spot already waiting for her.

"We're almost there," she said. "Ughh my stomach."

"I can meet you wherever you are."

"No it's okay."

Cars passed, and I stared at the passersby and their shoes and outfits for no reason at all. I was on the phone the entire time with her while waiting, and I realized that I sounded absolutely exhausted. 

About fifteen minutes later, we met, at long last. Her friends were tagging along with her, seeming nervous as ever around me. They kept their Cantonese flow going with each other, leaving me lost in translation. There's a nagging urge to know what they're saying, even if it's nothing important. I'd have to ask B in order to know what's going on. Otherwise, I would be totally lost and would have to guess my way through every situation. It's always best to speak a language that everyone can understand, so everyone involved knows what's going on and is comfortable. You'd kind of feel left out if something like jlkajsdhfauskdjhfaskdjfha came out of nowhere. 

"asjdhfalkjsdhfaeifjkadsf," he laughed. 

"ajskhdfakjsdhfaiuwefhjksjdfhaskdjfha."

"kljasdkj," she said. "fjskeiekdjgh!??"

"kajsdklahsdjlhw!!!!"

They all laughed. So I followed suit. 

But of course I respect all languages and everybody's comfort zones. But it's just something that always gets me. After all we live in a fabulous world filled with a diversity of dialects. 

They eventually called Coney quits because they got tired, especially B. I escorted her home, unable to find the right time to leave. I hugged and kissed her as I took one step inside the entrance of her building. It was the closest I got to her home. 

When I went home, I pondered what to get for dinner. B was tired so I understood how she wanted to rest at home. There's that sense of incompleteness when I didn't have dinner with B. It was like using a pencil without an eraser attached to the top. Dinner with B was so pleasing that without it, the day kind of felt off. But I'm all in smiles because I know that I will see her very very soon. Because baby, it's you. Sha la la la la la la