Dear eBay member.
Your account has been chosen accidentally. Since there are a lot of cases of cheating, we'd like you to visit your account.If you are not going to do that, your account will be removed away from our site system.
This is the actual main text of a fake e-Bay spam scam html email I got. It looked right and I suppose if you don't really read very carefully and are a moronic robot you will send them all your eBay user id info so they can then go and log in as you and maybe hijack your eBay account?
At least learn how to write the damn copy if you're going to try to spam me!!!!
Friday, July 25, 2003
Osu!
I always want to write about the two years I spent as a rough and tough Karate chick, but I never seem to know where to start. Being a "Japan person", as my friend Dave puts it, I've always been interested in martial arts and had already gotten a couple of years experience in Aikido and Judo under my white belt before I gingerly stepped into the world of Total Combat Budo. All I had really intended to do was sign up my then 5 year old daughter for kids Karate classes at the new dojo that had opened up near the station in Seta. When the Shihan (head dude) asked me if I wanted to try it too, I said, Sure why not?. I'd always wanted to try Karate but had never thought I could really hack it. I never imagined that working out together with my daughter at the dojo would lead me to bare fisted standing and ground fighting with guys close to half my age. It scared the hell out of me at first, but then I grew to love it. In the beginning I had a hard time even hitting anyone because I didn't want to hurt them. After a while I got the hang of it and found out I was also pretty utarejozu; I was good at taking hits and kept on fighting. I could do 700 squats in a row when the Shihan demanded it. I could push myself to the point where I knew I was just minutes from passing out and would step off the dojo floor just long enough to go outside and take in some fresh air to make the spinning stop before I headed back in for more. And I was able to infiltrate and make a place for myself in a very male, very Japanese situation. It was cool.
I was going through a phase where I had a lot of dangerous, volatile energy in me and the dojo gave me a place to channel that. Sure it fed my aggression too, but it was something I needed to work out with myself. It took me almost two full years from my first timid steps to the point where I had to walk away because I had been pulled so far into the inner workings of the organization that I was in danger of losing my autonomy. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it was dramatic.
I do not miss the bruises and the injuries but I miss the buzz. The high I got from sparring was as good as the one I get from playing music. Sometimes I would go directly from a jam session with my buddy Hokkan to a practice at the dojo and the Shihan could always tell because on those days my timing would be spot on. On a really basic level sparring and playing music are the same; you put a lot of time in practicing your basic moves, breaking things down into their simplest parts and mastering them to prepare for when it's time to get up there and let it all loose and it flows from you without thought or premeditation.
I was going through a phase where I had a lot of dangerous, volatile energy in me and the dojo gave me a place to channel that. Sure it fed my aggression too, but it was something I needed to work out with myself. It took me almost two full years from my first timid steps to the point where I had to walk away because I had been pulled so far into the inner workings of the organization that I was in danger of losing my autonomy. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it was dramatic.
I do not miss the bruises and the injuries but I miss the buzz. The high I got from sparring was as good as the one I get from playing music. Sometimes I would go directly from a jam session with my buddy Hokkan to a practice at the dojo and the Shihan could always tell because on those days my timing would be spot on. On a really basic level sparring and playing music are the same; you put a lot of time in practicing your basic moves, breaking things down into their simplest parts and mastering them to prepare for when it's time to get up there and let it all loose and it flows from you without thought or premeditation.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Point of No Return
Now that I have safely made it back to The Other Side I've become one of those who can say, "I miss having all that cash in my wallet, but I have a better quality of life now." That was always the point my friends who had left Japan and gone back home would raise, even though I'd secretly wonder how they could be enjoying life without the generous salary and vacation time Japanese university jobs supply.
That was always the issue for me. Everyone I know who works for a Japanese university cites how great the pay is, how long the vacations are and most of them are headed for the airport as soon as classes have ended for the semester. During the last year I was in Japan it became increasingly apparent to me that spending 45 weeks a year wishing I was someplace else meant that I was not where I should be anymore, even if I had put enough years into it that most people had me pegged as a lifer.
Going home from Japan after a year or two or three is normal. For people who end up being Japan fanatics, because they are studying martial arts, other arts, language or living out the playboy fantasies they could never indulge on their home turf, five to seven years may pass almost without them realizing it. After seven or eight years have gone by, people start to consider you a lifer. What's even scarier is you start to think of yourself that way too. You start to wonder how you could ever go home again, not just for a visit but for good. Who would hire you? How could you survive working a "normal" job? Could you really interact everyday with all those foreigners? And isn't the government all screwed up too?
One of the oddest phenomena I observed in Japan was how brave and bold young men and women embarking on the adventure of living in Japan transformed into cautious and conservative folk ensnared in the web of Japanese conformity. I know because I was one. It happens in tiny increments. With every trip home, the clothes I bought became drabber in color. I'd put on makeup for a trip around the corner to the supermarket because someone I know might see me and makeup is etiquette in Japan. I came to feel it was my duty to buy souvenir gifts for my family in America every time I went back home. I stopped asking "Why ...?". Japan became comfortable and safe and it had taken so damn long to finally understand the way things worked that once I'd gotten that down it seemed such a waste to admit that it didn't really suit me after all. The scariest words I ever heard were from Edward Seidensticker, my University of Colorado sempai and a God of Japanese Literature Studies who translated the entire Tale of Genji, at a lecture he gave in Hawaii in 1992 or thereabouts, when he said something like, "I'm not sure it's been worth it" in reference to his life's work and five decades in Japan.
Japan is so hard at first. The common sense you bring with you doesn't apply to anything anymore. It takes so much work to get things right; the language, the customs, the "common sense". After years of learning the hard way and plain old hard work, you start to get it. And then you start to become able to work the angles in your favor, once some people realize you know how to play by the rules. It helps to have a family of your own. One that will claim you and soothe you. And make you a respectable member of society by placing upon you a yoke of responsibility.
So you settle in, feeling proud of your adaptability and your accomplishment of finally understanding that which logic defies, yet still is. You learn that the answer to "why" questions is "because that's the way it is." You work so hard to make a place for yourself that you're shocked when you realize that you have become the antithesis of the person who got you there in the first place. What happened to that young adventurer who set off to conquer the world and explore its mysteries? What happened to that young woman who went to Japan with a big backpack, some travelers checks, an open ended ticket home and a Lonely Planet guide book, without a job, a place to stay, a plan or a clue? How did she turn into me, someone who "fit" in Japan but found herself homesick after a dozen years and almost too scared to do anything about it? After all, the splendor of longing is considered to be so noble, any Japanese lit grad knows that.
Well, I dug out what vestiges of Adventure Girl remained and despite the doubts-- my own and those of friends and family who thought it was much too late and risky to leave the security of the little world I had ensconced myself in-- packed it up and moved it out. And what do you know! I haven't fallen into poverty and ruin, not yet anyway. I don't miss standing out in a crowd. My feared tendencies to overconsumption only seem to appear when ice cream is involved and that's just because the $2.25 small is about the size of three Japanese servings of ice cream that would cost $3 each. I don't have as much money as I used to, but it doesn't matter because everything else is good.
"Are you happy now?" my sister asked, "You're back. You have the house, the yard, the car, the puppy, a teaching job lined up. You all set?" Yes, I am. For now.
That was always the issue for me. Everyone I know who works for a Japanese university cites how great the pay is, how long the vacations are and most of them are headed for the airport as soon as classes have ended for the semester. During the last year I was in Japan it became increasingly apparent to me that spending 45 weeks a year wishing I was someplace else meant that I was not where I should be anymore, even if I had put enough years into it that most people had me pegged as a lifer.
Going home from Japan after a year or two or three is normal. For people who end up being Japan fanatics, because they are studying martial arts, other arts, language or living out the playboy fantasies they could never indulge on their home turf, five to seven years may pass almost without them realizing it. After seven or eight years have gone by, people start to consider you a lifer. What's even scarier is you start to think of yourself that way too. You start to wonder how you could ever go home again, not just for a visit but for good. Who would hire you? How could you survive working a "normal" job? Could you really interact everyday with all those foreigners? And isn't the government all screwed up too?
One of the oddest phenomena I observed in Japan was how brave and bold young men and women embarking on the adventure of living in Japan transformed into cautious and conservative folk ensnared in the web of Japanese conformity. I know because I was one. It happens in tiny increments. With every trip home, the clothes I bought became drabber in color. I'd put on makeup for a trip around the corner to the supermarket because someone I know might see me and makeup is etiquette in Japan. I came to feel it was my duty to buy souvenir gifts for my family in America every time I went back home. I stopped asking "Why ...?". Japan became comfortable and safe and it had taken so damn long to finally understand the way things worked that once I'd gotten that down it seemed such a waste to admit that it didn't really suit me after all. The scariest words I ever heard were from Edward Seidensticker, my University of Colorado sempai and a God of Japanese Literature Studies who translated the entire Tale of Genji, at a lecture he gave in Hawaii in 1992 or thereabouts, when he said something like, "I'm not sure it's been worth it" in reference to his life's work and five decades in Japan.
Japan is so hard at first. The common sense you bring with you doesn't apply to anything anymore. It takes so much work to get things right; the language, the customs, the "common sense". After years of learning the hard way and plain old hard work, you start to get it. And then you start to become able to work the angles in your favor, once some people realize you know how to play by the rules. It helps to have a family of your own. One that will claim you and soothe you. And make you a respectable member of society by placing upon you a yoke of responsibility.
So you settle in, feeling proud of your adaptability and your accomplishment of finally understanding that which logic defies, yet still is. You learn that the answer to "why" questions is "because that's the way it is." You work so hard to make a place for yourself that you're shocked when you realize that you have become the antithesis of the person who got you there in the first place. What happened to that young adventurer who set off to conquer the world and explore its mysteries? What happened to that young woman who went to Japan with a big backpack, some travelers checks, an open ended ticket home and a Lonely Planet guide book, without a job, a place to stay, a plan or a clue? How did she turn into me, someone who "fit" in Japan but found herself homesick after a dozen years and almost too scared to do anything about it? After all, the splendor of longing is considered to be so noble, any Japanese lit grad knows that.
Well, I dug out what vestiges of Adventure Girl remained and despite the doubts-- my own and those of friends and family who thought it was much too late and risky to leave the security of the little world I had ensconced myself in-- packed it up and moved it out. And what do you know! I haven't fallen into poverty and ruin, not yet anyway. I don't miss standing out in a crowd. My feared tendencies to overconsumption only seem to appear when ice cream is involved and that's just because the $2.25 small is about the size of three Japanese servings of ice cream that would cost $3 each. I don't have as much money as I used to, but it doesn't matter because everything else is good.
"Are you happy now?" my sister asked, "You're back. You have the house, the yard, the car, the puppy, a teaching job lined up. You all set?" Yes, I am. For now.
Monday, July 21, 2003
Rock On
OK. So the news of the comatose state of my band was a little premature. Stef and I got so fired up by the ShuttleCock show that we called for a spur of the moment Sunday morning rehearsal and Chip answered the call, as he most always does. "Going to church", he calls it. Yeah, the Church of Rock. We sounded good, even though we didn't have the PA for vocals because it hadn't been set back up in the basement after Mat and Tobey's gig on Friday at The Loft at Strafford Farms.
I think Chip and I are going to get in on singing too. All our favorite bands around here have everyone miked for vocals. It adds more to the mix and the show and it might take some of the pressure off of Stef. Now we just need to keep on with it and line up a few gigs. We had a great time playing outdoor gigs a few summers ago. Maybe we can line some up for August.
I think Chip and I are going to get in on singing too. All our favorite bands around here have everyone miked for vocals. It adds more to the mix and the show and it might take some of the pressure off of Stef. Now we just need to keep on with it and line up a few gigs. We had a great time playing outdoor gigs a few summers ago. Maybe we can line some up for August.
Sunday, July 20, 2003
ShuttleCock Rocks!!!
If you are hungry for The Rock, you best get yourself some ShuttleCock. They are one of my favorite local bands and they played in Dover at The Barley Pub last night. Hope they're coming back again.
They have mp3s on their site. I suggest you check it out.
They have mp3s on their site. I suggest you check it out.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Seacoast Blend
Oooh, all this "it's a small world" stuff seems to be too much at times. I may have struck the Seacoast NH-Japan mainline. Got this guy at You Who writing about this guy Eric who studies Kenpo and writes Inspirational Haiku for a Recessed Economy (good stuff there) and who writes about OnMyMind, which is written by Stephen, who is a Seacoast native who now lives in Japan and who found my blog just about the same time I found his.
Eric mentioned that his wife is studying Japanese. See, I knew there were people around who want to learn it, even if the people at the NH College for Lifelong Learning completely ignored my inquiry about the possibility of teaching conversational Japanese courses there. If anyone out there is interested in taking Japanese lessons privately, get in touch. I'd be psyched to teach a small group of students once or twice a week evenings or weekends. I even have credentials and everything.
Eric mentioned that his wife is studying Japanese. See, I knew there were people around who want to learn it, even if the people at the NH College for Lifelong Learning completely ignored my inquiry about the possibility of teaching conversational Japanese courses there. If anyone out there is interested in taking Japanese lessons privately, get in touch. I'd be psyched to teach a small group of students once or twice a week evenings or weekends. I even have credentials and everything.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Anyone remember the China Dragon?
We were having an ice cream at Dover Delite last night and I looked over and saw a sign hanging from the roof of the Asia Chinese Restaurant on Third Ave. It said they were celebrating their 32nd anniversary. I commented to Shiro that I remember my family coming up from Portsmouth to eat at the new Chinese restaurant in Dover. It's actually one of my few memories of Dover from when I was a kid. None of the other people sitting at the picnic benches said, "Yeah. I remember that too." It felt more like they were thinking, "Man, you've been around here that long?"
The old Chinese restaurant meant the China Dragon in Kittery. It was in a huge, old, fancy wooden building right on the water. I think it might be the spot that's across from Bob's Fried Clam Hut now. I liked their tea.
The old Chinese restaurant meant the China Dragon in Kittery. It was in a huge, old, fancy wooden building right on the water. I think it might be the spot that's across from Bob's Fried Clam Hut now. I liked their tea.
Wild
Animals that have been within 15 yards of my front door in the past four hours:
-- A large turtle or tortoise with a shell diameter of about 1 foot. It headed out across my neighbors' lawn and looked like it was on its way down to the river, which is about half a mile from here.)
-- A stampede of about 7 or 8 cows and oxen being chased down the street by the police. I think the stampeding herd included the ox I saw being walked down the street last week.
-- a grey fox that ran across the yard and into the blackberry bushes on the side of the yard.
I'm scared to walk out the door anymore.
-- A large turtle or tortoise with a shell diameter of about 1 foot. It headed out across my neighbors' lawn and looked like it was on its way down to the river, which is about half a mile from here.)
-- A stampede of about 7 or 8 cows and oxen being chased down the street by the police. I think the stampeding herd included the ox I saw being walked down the street last week.
-- a grey fox that ran across the yard and into the blackberry bushes on the side of the yard.
I'm scared to walk out the door anymore.
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