Sayonara

Saying goodbye was something I was made to do.

However, right now, I find myself completely unable to move passed this horrible sinking feeling: Bill and Okada are gone. They both will still only live only a half hour away, but our connection through work is irrecoverably lost. Somehow that is more painful than if they were to move as far as the moon.

I remember that I asked Okada-sensei, "will we still be friends?"

She laughed, but she said nothing.

Diarrhea

I'm sitting at home, watching The Daily Show, as is my habit for dinner, when I get a message on my cellphone from Beth. This surprises me for two reasons: 1. I hate my cellphone, so most people only use it to contact me in times of need. 2. Beth never messages me... ever.

The message is as follows:

I'm sitting across from diarrhea boy on the train.

Chances are, you are just as confused as I am. I rack my brains for a moment, and then remember her husband and my favorite contestant in the Speech Competition we had to judge. His speech went a little something like this:

DIARRHEA (snickers from me and James) is the worlds greatest killer
(snickering subsides as we judges realize that he's serious). We must stop
DIARRHEA! (surpressed snickers)

It is a serious issue, and I feel bad enough already for laughing at him before he even got the second word in his speech, so let's not dwell on that.

I messsage her back, telling her that she ought to talk to him about it. Ten minutes later, my cellphone vibrates, proclaiming a new message:

I would, but it looks like he's trying to hold it in. (poop emoticon and restroom emoticon)

Welcome to the Surreal

Kojima-sensei is bothering me again. He told me that his grandfather was a samurai, I think, but was in Hawaii, so he was not a samurai. Confused? Yeah, me too.

In any case, Fujita to the rescue says, "my grandfather fought in World War II".

Then I realized.... Our two families, only one generation removed, were fighting over the Pacific Ocean.

Thankfully, Kojima shut up long enough for me to ponder this.

Yakedo!

It turns out that if you're going to burn yourself (not that it ought to be a conscious decision), doing it with wax is the best way to go. While it does initially inflict the wound, it also acts as a bandage and protects the wound from open air at the same time.

Of course, I am starting to get worried. I actually can't feel the burn area any more... Not that I want to feel that pain after it took for me hours to fall asleep last night through it.

Graduation Part 1

I hate it when I hate something so deeply that I know it must stand for deeper, psychological problem.

What is it that I hate? I hate graduation. I hate it. I find it uncomfortable, and boring, in addition to the collassal waste of time it is to listen to people spout useless advice that even they did not take.

Japanese graduation is a solemn affair (there are no cheers of congratulations, or wild applause of parents), that takes place in the cold gym in the beginning of Spring. It is symbolic, and all speeches are about the Spring of youth, leaving that horrible snow cloud of mortality hoover implicitly over them.

Today, Tetsuya became more of a man. For twenty minutes, he stood before the students who both loved and adored them, spewed cliched things about Spring that he truly meant, and made an effort to hold back tears long enough for him to finish his speech. I smiled at him everytime he looked in my direction, which now that I reflect upon it, probably flustered him more than it helped.


Generally, when people cry at ceremonies, I think they are doing it because they think it's what they ought to do. However, when it came to my students, I honestly believed it. This is not an American school, where one has classes with in excess of 400 students before High school is over, they are a tightly knit group that have been together since they were 14 or younger.

My graudation message, therefore, meant nothing to them. I spoke about the future at great lengths because I thought that was expected of me, but this is what I really wish I had said.

You have probably woken this morning with a feeling that both saddens and enlivens you. The knowledge that today, your life has finally changed must be in your hearts today. Your lives have changed, but not fundamentally. Look around you. Today, you are still with your fellow classmates. Yesterday, you may have been with a few of them, but not all. The day before, you may have slept in, watched television, and saw no one.

But please, do not misunderstand me. Today is different. It is different than yesterday, but no more so than yesterday was different than the day before that. Life changes, in little, subtle ways. We only think this is a big thing because we discovered that this small thing has changed for all of us at the same time.

This is not the first day of your new life. That was the day you were born. However, everyday is the first day in the long progress that will be your life, and everyday something will change, whether you notice it or not, and you must move
on and accept or deny what comes. Today is just like any other day. Make that decision as you always have.

I know that many of you are sad. You are saying goodbye to dear friends and a
way of life that you had become comfortable with, but know this, if today did
not happen, you would not be continuing the rest of your life. You would be surrendering yourself to death long before it is time.

Rejoice in this change, even if you wish that somethings could stay the same, and leave this hall happily.

I say this because I watched my favorite student walk out of the gym in such quiet desolation that it near broke my heart. I have faith in Shota though. If anyone understands the value of change, it is him.