Ali Complains it All

My weekend was eventful, and this weekend looks to be shaping up to be the same.

The first adventure was all because I wanted to be able to walk around my house in my underwear. However, I did not have curtains, and living in the center of town, I felt it prudent to keep my skin concealed. Changing clothes was always a hassle too for I always had to go to the one spot where no one could peer into, which also happened to be in an uncomfortable corner by my china cabinet. So, I decided on Friday to go to Tsubata and get the curtains Joe was trying to get rid of. In the process, I thought I’d visit Travis, a boy I was instantly fond of since the moment I talked to him on the phone.

It was a rather blasé night, which are always my favorite kinds of nights. We went to a yakitori (grilled meat on a stick) place and had a few drinks. Naturally, I didn’t, but that is because I’m always the designated driver, and I absolutely hate the taste of alcohol. Mostly, the four of us talked about what a ladies man Joe is, and argued about whether or not the law should be used to protect French culture in Quebec. Much to the dismay of the proprietor, we stayed for an hour past closing. Being a waitress in a past life, I was very embarrassed to have done so. I always hated people who stayed for too long when I wanted to go home.

I drove Joe and Hide (a Japanese guy who is nice, but comes off little creepy in a “it puts on the lotion on the skin” sort of way) back home, and then made my way back on the silent roads to Togi. At two o’clock, I laid my weary head to rest.

At eight o’clock, I was forced to wake up to go to a charity event in Monzen organized by the infamous Kojima-sensei.

There is no one I hate more than Kojima-sensei. He is always talking to me, and asking if I understand English words, which I always have to shake my head and say no to because his pronunciation is so bad. Then, he announces to the whole office that the stupid American girl doesn’t know her own language. “What a bad vocabulary.” Unable to take it, I finally stood up and told him I can’t understand him because his pronunciation is so bad. Although I was very angry, I realized that I got some perverse pleasure in telling people off in Japanese. When I was finished, he proved to be slightly embarrassed, but undeterred. He still talks to me everyday.

Kojima’s vocabulary is very good, but his grammar is very bad. Therefore, he only can say words, but cannot connect them together in any coherent manner. This, with the fact that I have no earthly idea what he’s trying to say makes it a frustrating and irritating time. Fortunately, everyone in the office is worried about me and they have started to take steps for my protection from the horrific presence of Kojima.

Fujita, my desk mate, asks me random, important-sounding, questions whenever Kojima solicits me to translate impossible hard phrases into Japanese. He also lets me ask him random, important-sounding, questions if he’s passing by. Fujii has lent me his desk, which he often refers to as heaven, on my off periods. He calls it heaven because no one can see it, and he can pretty much do whatever he likes. His desk is the envy of all the teachers, and I desperately want it now as well. Lastly, Bill lets me hang out in his office during morning and afternoon Kojima sneak attacks, when I am not expecting him.

Let it be known that I am not nearly so cruel that I would hate a man for just practicing his English. There are many other reasons. He, for example, is a sexist bastard. With great relish, he tells me that women are the number one worst drivers, and that drunk drivers are second. I would normally take it as a joke, except I know that he doesn’t understand the concept of sarcasm. Also, he insists that it is a kotowaze (ancient Japanese proverb), which means he believes in the acumen of such a phrase.

The problem is that I can never say no. Never. It’s impossible for me. And if it the event is volunteer work in an earthquake stricken area, I certainly can’t say no. He asked me about it all week, and tried to explain what I was going to do, but refused to do in Japanese. So, up until that point, all I knew that I was going to Monzen at 9:00.

I arrived where I am supposed to, by the grace of god more than any real idea of where I was going, and I find there are two old men sitting in the room I am ushered into, with some middle school students fidgeting nervously in their chairs. I try to speak Japanese, but they look at me as if I were sputtering nonsense. I think they understood more than they let on, but I certainly was not talking in tongues, in any case. Finally, they are joined by two old ladies. Mind you, I still had no idea was going on.

Then, the middle school students and their teacher start to sing. It was quite beautiful, although I still did not understand what was happening. After twenty minutes, Kojima brings me up to the front and has me say stupid jokes like “this snake is very heavy.” The joke is because the Japanese cannot pronounce the word heavy, so they pronounce it hebi, which means snake. Then, he sends me away, and starts to perform magic that even a sixth grader could figure out. It was then that I realized that the Elderly appreciation day was on Monday, so we were there to cheer up the elderly who were affected by the earthquake. Instead, however, I think Kojima patronized them as if they children. I was so embarrassed I could hardly look at anyone.

I left early. Although I toyed with the idea of bothering my supervisor at work because I was bored, I went home and proceeded to sleep for a few blissful hours. I was too lazy to cook, so I only ate snack food and coke, which was probably not a good idea since my throat had been hurting for days, and I was likely coming down with something.

Then, I went to Nakajima, not after being accosted by Aki (Ishihara-san’s daughter), which made me late. What made me even more late was that I went the wrong way on 249. Then, I went the right way, but ended up driving around Nakajima for twenty minutes looking for the damn theater. The drama of the previous post started that Saturday night.