One of the members of my GISHWHES team, a person whom I had never met and will never meet, baffled me a bit and made me think. His middle name on Facebook was changed to Imsecond, which seemed peculiar as I have been living abroad for the last 6 years and catch up on little news in the way of conservative or religious developments stateside.
Not being one to waste too much brain power on what other people want to insert into the middle of their name, I made the basic albeit vulgar assumption that the name related to order of partners in oral sex, meaning that he preferred to act first and receive second. My mother, also on my GISHWHES team, let me know the real meaning of the term and it didn't make me feel less puzzled.
The idea that Jesus or God is first so I am second actually makes even less sense to me, as many parables within the bible say to put others first, to give the meek or the poor or just your fellow man a position you might otherwise covet. In that vein, a "true" Christian might laugh at the idea of being second, as they would be much further down the line. "I'm last" might be a more accurate statement for one following the word so closely.That might be only how this appears to me, granted.
After GISHWHES ended, I saw no need to unfriend all my group members. Why bother? Then the conservative's posts wound up on my news feed and I was forced to witness some disturbingly inaccurate and offensive material directed at all followers of Islam, some of whom I count among my friends.
I was offended and I quietly removed him. If I honestly thought someone who could share such things would be capable of discussing their repercussions and inaccuracies, I might have spared a moment to message him, but this was not worth the time.
I post this here because this event made me think about reservations and limitations. This concept that the only path that can be satisfying, just, or correct is the one that I personally am following religiously, emotionally, financially, or however is just so very limited. So basic. So lacking in compassion for the very fellow man so many holy books say to help. Yet this seems to be the point of view present time and again when dealing with ultra-conservatives, or ultra-liberals for that matter.
But that is another issue too, and touches more on the political side.
I consider myself a liberal and one of the main reasons liberalism appeals to me is that there seems to be inclusion of differences present in the liberal spectrum that doesn't usually exist within the conservative sphere. I've known a few conservatives who were comfortable with liberal friends only when there was a Republican president. When power changed, they could no longer stomach being around people with such apposing viewpoints, even if we never discussed politics as a group. It could just be me but I haven't run into as many liberals with the same problem.
My main point in all of this blather is only a tiny bit of perspective. I would never dream of limiting the whole of human consciousness and understanding to the tiny bit of life that I find enjoyable or even acceptable. Sometimes I have a hard time wrapping my head around someone else's point of view, admittedly, but when you choose to belittle another person's perspective, especially a main facet of their experience like what they choose to believe in, I can not stand by you. It's not okay. It shows such a lack of understanding and respect, I genuinely hope to never fully understand it. The point of view is far too limited.
A different friend of mine recently included in a status update the idea that a musician I am a fan of would be "the first against the wall when the revolution comes" and about this I was also a bit offended. This artist tends not to be controversial, so the need to post this confuses me. The phrase itself seems to be a running gag from origins unknown (to me anyway), but even so this seems extreme. The artist in question writes silly songs and parodies. Will the revolution really want to destroy that?
This friend was merely placed out of sight for the time being, partially because I have known him longer and partially because his turn of phrase was more confusing to me than offensive. The person I unfriended cannot understand alternatives to his own normalcy, and I most definitely fit into that category. The later guy may just have a different taste in music.
In either case, I lack the time and energy to fully communicate with either individual and instead post my ramblings here. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
GISHWHES, Random Acts, and Mantis Shrimp
Hello out there, internet-land! Sorry for my frequent delays. Here's what's new for me:
GISHWHES, the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt The World Has Ever Seen was AMAZING! I have been considering making a video of my comments and tips for future Gishers since the end of this year's wild rompus back at the beginning of August. This will be done shortly, but probably not today.
I strongly recommend GISHWHES to anyone. Really anyone. If you have a little spark of madness and a little bit of time/money to spare, this is for you. I am still in shock as to how 1 week of craziness transformed how I feel about life so completely. I'll explain more in the video, when that happens.
GISHWHES benefits Random Acts, and charity founded by Misha Collins in support of making the world a better place through Random Acts of kindness. The kindness need to be entirely random. If you have an idea for something really nice you'd like to do or have done in your community, write them a proposal on their website here and if they like it, they may choose to fund it, at which point you would put it into motion and make things happen. Real change in small steps.
Now the question is, where does this funding come from? GISHWHES participants each pay $18.99 to be a part of the scavenger hunt, and this goes straight to running costs for GISHWHES and Random Acts. Random Acts is a charity and does accept donations. They encourage donations. And now here's something even more fun.
Endure for Kindness, E4K, is a fundraiser for Random Acts. Traditionally, a charity might hold a marathon and have each runner work to get sponsors who would pay a certain amount of money per mile to the charity. The last time I did something like this, it was the Math-a-thon in sixth grade, in which people (my parents mostly) pledged a certain amount of money per math problem I got correct and proceeds went to St. Jude's Children's Hospital.
Today I heard about E4K in this silly video and decided to check it out. I'm not a runner and would not have the ability to put my baby aside for a day of running. Nor would I have the time for swimming, jogging, dancing, or many other of the continuous, hours-based marathon exercises. What I do have is a bunch of worn out socks, and an idea.
I know how to make sock monkeys. I can push myself to make as many sock monkeys as possible in the time provided (a 24 hour period of my choosing between October 18th and October 19th) and ask my sponsors to pay per monkey completed. That would mean if I really work hard and make 15 monkeys and one of my friends pledged $1 per monkey, they would then give Random Acts $15.
In appreciation for their contribution, I shall send them one of the completed monkeys. Choices for specific monkey should be on a first come, first serve basis.
In other news, my serial Vampire novel Strange Fangs is back up and running at Jukepop. Check out Chapter 8.
Also,this week I burned my leg. It was a cooking accident, as most of my burns are, caused in no small part by exhaustion. I now have a personal rule concerning the number of pans or pots that I can have in usage for dinner preparation with fewer than 5 hours of sleep.
The last time I burned my leg, it was much worse. It was also caused by exhaustion, and the naive notion that if I didn't provide complete and absolute sustenance for my then boyfriend, he would inevitably leave me. Of course, that never happened. We're married now. He did prove his worth even then by rushing me to the hospital, getting me meds, and being mad at our mutual employers for not actually providing me with insurance so much as a promise of eventual reimbursement perhaps. We worked everything out and I actually didn't even wind up with any scarring, which was great.
This burn is a lot less severe, but I am keeping it lubricated and under wraps nonetheless.
After burning my leg, the previous Halloween costume idea I had been working on (weaving can tabs into a mermaid tale) seemed rather ludicrous, so instead I have opted to change gears and create a Mantis Shrimp costume. They are amazing creatures, praised by both Ze Frank and the Oatmeal, and are pretty freaking colorful.This should be fun.
I have a feeling that I will be able to find a way to use a Mantis Shrimp costume next GISHWHES. Hehehehe.
Onward and upward!
GISHWHES, the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt The World Has Ever Seen was AMAZING! I have been considering making a video of my comments and tips for future Gishers since the end of this year's wild rompus back at the beginning of August. This will be done shortly, but probably not today.
I strongly recommend GISHWHES to anyone. Really anyone. If you have a little spark of madness and a little bit of time/money to spare, this is for you. I am still in shock as to how 1 week of craziness transformed how I feel about life so completely. I'll explain more in the video, when that happens.
GISHWHES benefits Random Acts, and charity founded by Misha Collins in support of making the world a better place through Random Acts of kindness. The kindness need to be entirely random. If you have an idea for something really nice you'd like to do or have done in your community, write them a proposal on their website here and if they like it, they may choose to fund it, at which point you would put it into motion and make things happen. Real change in small steps.
Now the question is, where does this funding come from? GISHWHES participants each pay $18.99 to be a part of the scavenger hunt, and this goes straight to running costs for GISHWHES and Random Acts. Random Acts is a charity and does accept donations. They encourage donations. And now here's something even more fun.
Endure for Kindness, E4K, is a fundraiser for Random Acts. Traditionally, a charity might hold a marathon and have each runner work to get sponsors who would pay a certain amount of money per mile to the charity. The last time I did something like this, it was the Math-a-thon in sixth grade, in which people (my parents mostly) pledged a certain amount of money per math problem I got correct and proceeds went to St. Jude's Children's Hospital.
Today I heard about E4K in this silly video and decided to check it out. I'm not a runner and would not have the ability to put my baby aside for a day of running. Nor would I have the time for swimming, jogging, dancing, or many other of the continuous, hours-based marathon exercises. What I do have is a bunch of worn out socks, and an idea.
I know how to make sock monkeys. I can push myself to make as many sock monkeys as possible in the time provided (a 24 hour period of my choosing between October 18th and October 19th) and ask my sponsors to pay per monkey completed. That would mean if I really work hard and make 15 monkeys and one of my friends pledged $1 per monkey, they would then give Random Acts $15.
In appreciation for their contribution, I shall send them one of the completed monkeys. Choices for specific monkey should be on a first come, first serve basis.
In other news, my serial Vampire novel Strange Fangs is back up and running at Jukepop. Check out Chapter 8.
Also,this week I burned my leg. It was a cooking accident, as most of my burns are, caused in no small part by exhaustion. I now have a personal rule concerning the number of pans or pots that I can have in usage for dinner preparation with fewer than 5 hours of sleep.
The last time I burned my leg, it was much worse. It was also caused by exhaustion, and the naive notion that if I didn't provide complete and absolute sustenance for my then boyfriend, he would inevitably leave me. Of course, that never happened. We're married now. He did prove his worth even then by rushing me to the hospital, getting me meds, and being mad at our mutual employers for not actually providing me with insurance so much as a promise of eventual reimbursement perhaps. We worked everything out and I actually didn't even wind up with any scarring, which was great.
This burn is a lot less severe, but I am keeping it lubricated and under wraps nonetheless.
After burning my leg, the previous Halloween costume idea I had been working on (weaving can tabs into a mermaid tale) seemed rather ludicrous, so instead I have opted to change gears and create a Mantis Shrimp costume. They are amazing creatures, praised by both Ze Frank and the Oatmeal, and are pretty freaking colorful.This should be fun.
I have a feeling that I will be able to find a way to use a Mantis Shrimp costume next GISHWHES. Hehehehe.
Onward and upward!
Monday, August 11, 2014
On Robin Williams and Depression
When I first saw the words Robin Williams Suicide on facebook, I assumed it was a hoax. I literally did not believe it. Just like when people start saying Jackie Chan has died. It's just a rumor, right?
After confirmation from a major media outlet, I still didn't want to believe it. How clever this would be if it were a stunt pulled for depression awareness and suicide prevention, I thought. But it's not.
The funny man is gone. I can't express the sorrow this brings me. And I know I did not know the man. His work spoke to me as it spoke to so many others. He made me was to be a comedian when I was a kid. He was just so damn funny.
And while I did not know the man, I've seen a shade of his adversary. The little voice-- if you're lucky, only a little voice-- in the back of your head that tells you to stay in bed and cry because after all, you're worthless and no one wants you. Not for a friend, not for a lover, not for a partner. Hell, you wouldn't even make a decent enemy...
Except that it is you, and you are your enemy.
I've battled through a depression or two but without a supporting group of friends, I wouldn't have made my way out.
Here we see a man of financial means who could likely have afforded the best care possible should he have seen it as a necessity. He had several children, a wife, a life worth having. Depression isn't logical. It's not about the haves and have-nots. Not really. You could have all the love and wealth in the world at your feet and none of it means anything.
I think of it like losing sight over time. One day you wake up and half of the colors are gone. You almost notice, but things seem normal enough. The next, the world is black and white. That's different, but what can you do? You go on. The next, your lightest white is what a medium gray looked like before. Something tells you it's darker than usual, but you can't really place what light and color are supposed to look like. This keeps going, your vision tunneling, until all you have is a couple of shades of gray and black. You might be able to see the happiness in other people, but you can't feel any of that. It is out of your spectrum now.
It isn't that our funny man could not have gotten help because he could not have afforded it. It's more likely that the parts of him that should have realized he needed help, that should have inspired him to pick up that phone and make that call, were instead wasting energy beating him up, or pulling him into the muck. It seems safe to assume that the call went unmade, as we are here now in a world without him, his jokes now finite.
That's what the hell of depression looks like to me. If you are suffering or know someone who is, get help. Find a physician or counselor or friend. If you need medication, find a way to get it.
And don't forget the little things. Taking care of yourself is so important and so easy to forget. Don't go overboard and spend all your savings on random crap you don't need, but do take a moment out of the hustle and bustle of your day to appreciate yourself and all the good you do. Just as a reminder. Just to keep you pointed in the right direction.
If you're sinking, call for help. A friend, a neighbor, even a stranger. Call for help. More people have fought this beast than you know. Some have won. Some have lost. No matter what, you're not alone. Don't let it convince you otherwise.
After confirmation from a major media outlet, I still didn't want to believe it. How clever this would be if it were a stunt pulled for depression awareness and suicide prevention, I thought. But it's not.
The funny man is gone. I can't express the sorrow this brings me. And I know I did not know the man. His work spoke to me as it spoke to so many others. He made me was to be a comedian when I was a kid. He was just so damn funny.
And while I did not know the man, I've seen a shade of his adversary. The little voice-- if you're lucky, only a little voice-- in the back of your head that tells you to stay in bed and cry because after all, you're worthless and no one wants you. Not for a friend, not for a lover, not for a partner. Hell, you wouldn't even make a decent enemy...
Except that it is you, and you are your enemy.
I've battled through a depression or two but without a supporting group of friends, I wouldn't have made my way out.
Here we see a man of financial means who could likely have afforded the best care possible should he have seen it as a necessity. He had several children, a wife, a life worth having. Depression isn't logical. It's not about the haves and have-nots. Not really. You could have all the love and wealth in the world at your feet and none of it means anything.
I think of it like losing sight over time. One day you wake up and half of the colors are gone. You almost notice, but things seem normal enough. The next, the world is black and white. That's different, but what can you do? You go on. The next, your lightest white is what a medium gray looked like before. Something tells you it's darker than usual, but you can't really place what light and color are supposed to look like. This keeps going, your vision tunneling, until all you have is a couple of shades of gray and black. You might be able to see the happiness in other people, but you can't feel any of that. It is out of your spectrum now.
It isn't that our funny man could not have gotten help because he could not have afforded it. It's more likely that the parts of him that should have realized he needed help, that should have inspired him to pick up that phone and make that call, were instead wasting energy beating him up, or pulling him into the muck. It seems safe to assume that the call went unmade, as we are here now in a world without him, his jokes now finite.
That's what the hell of depression looks like to me. If you are suffering or know someone who is, get help. Find a physician or counselor or friend. If you need medication, find a way to get it.
And don't forget the little things. Taking care of yourself is so important and so easy to forget. Don't go overboard and spend all your savings on random crap you don't need, but do take a moment out of the hustle and bustle of your day to appreciate yourself and all the good you do. Just as a reminder. Just to keep you pointed in the right direction.
If you're sinking, call for help. A friend, a neighbor, even a stranger. Call for help. More people have fought this beast than you know. Some have won. Some have lost. No matter what, you're not alone. Don't let it convince you otherwise.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Overdue Update--Chapter 6 is Ready and Checkups in Japan
The big positive note today is that after a 2 week hiatus, Chapter 6 of Strange Fangs is up and running at Jukepop Serials.
Otherwise, my husband and I have both come down with a strain of the stomach flu. It hit my husband like a truck, actually. Luckily, our infant daughter is just fine and we're taking precautions to ensure that she stays that way.
I'm just about healed now, but spent the better part of the last two weeks being stressed about Julia's 7 month checkup and then being depressed because of the outcome. These check-ups are not merely medical checkups as we would have in the states, but take into account various socioeconomic facets in order to ensure that you properly fit into what can be considered "Normal."
Which, of course, we don't. Why would we? The mother of the family is not fluent in Japanese, bad at housework, mediocre at cooking, and not going to cook anything for the family that she herself can't or won't eat, meaning mainstays of the Japanese diet like tofu and mushrooms are right out.
The father is "normal" in that he is a full-Japanese over-worked, under-paid sort of guy. The kicker here is that he is a funeral director who may get home from work any time between 6PM and 10PM with no discernible pattern and he does not get even one regularly occurring day off. This means that we can't just have Sunday for example be family day as he won't have every Sunday off, or even many Sundays off. It usually depends more on what's going down at his office and his schedule can change any day.
I want my daughter to have a strong bond with her father. I also don't want my fumbles in the kitchen to result in injury to my child. This means that food is prepared for dinner after my husband comes home, whenever that is. Then we feed the baby, bathe the baby, feed the baby again, and go to sleep. My goal is to have everyone in bed by midnight. This doesn't always happen, but it's my plan.
Of course, this falls way outside normal parameters. The chart they gave us to illustrate our normal feeding schedule doesn't even cover an option like this. At the checkup, we had to wait through 2 separate lectures on the topic of how we, specifically, were failing in this right. In order to properly shame us in true slow-grade-school-student fashion, we were made to wait for all the successfully normal Japanese families to leave so that we could enjoy our second elongated lecture.
Admittedly, I tuned out once they started telling us that the way we were doing it is wrong, partially because I don't have the most fluent grasp of the language. There's a part of me though that was always an overachiever, looking to ace any test I could, but I never can here. I can't even pass their tests here because what they are looking for I can never be. A "normal" Japanese housewife isn't even something I can strive to be. Not me.
I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be. I've known quite a few amazing women who happened to be Japanese housewives and they were all sharp, funny, and sweet people. It just isn't for me. I don't enjoy housework and honestly cannot clean as well as they would want. I can't abide putting that much energy into the presentation of dinner. I'd rather spend it writing. I can't even get my daughter to nap somewhere other than my lap long enough for me to regularly update this blog or write in general, which are things I genuinely enjoy doing.
My husband and friends admit that my system isn't crazy. Neither me nor Julia have any pressing business before 9AM on any given day. There is no one who needs to get ready for school or any such stuff yet. While I agree that over time this tradition will have to change, that we will have to have her in bed earlier to help her internal clocks adjust and ensure she has enough rest for the day, right now it's just not necessary, regardless of what other babies are doing.
I'm aiming to change this, of course. One day, we'll be waking up bright and early so that we might have a family breakfast with Daddy before we run off to school or wherever. On those days, we will have an earlier bedtime and an earlier wake-up time.
But not yet.
Otherwise, my husband and I have both come down with a strain of the stomach flu. It hit my husband like a truck, actually. Luckily, our infant daughter is just fine and we're taking precautions to ensure that she stays that way.
I'm just about healed now, but spent the better part of the last two weeks being stressed about Julia's 7 month checkup and then being depressed because of the outcome. These check-ups are not merely medical checkups as we would have in the states, but take into account various socioeconomic facets in order to ensure that you properly fit into what can be considered "Normal."
Which, of course, we don't. Why would we? The mother of the family is not fluent in Japanese, bad at housework, mediocre at cooking, and not going to cook anything for the family that she herself can't or won't eat, meaning mainstays of the Japanese diet like tofu and mushrooms are right out.
The father is "normal" in that he is a full-Japanese over-worked, under-paid sort of guy. The kicker here is that he is a funeral director who may get home from work any time between 6PM and 10PM with no discernible pattern and he does not get even one regularly occurring day off. This means that we can't just have Sunday for example be family day as he won't have every Sunday off, or even many Sundays off. It usually depends more on what's going down at his office and his schedule can change any day.
I want my daughter to have a strong bond with her father. I also don't want my fumbles in the kitchen to result in injury to my child. This means that food is prepared for dinner after my husband comes home, whenever that is. Then we feed the baby, bathe the baby, feed the baby again, and go to sleep. My goal is to have everyone in bed by midnight. This doesn't always happen, but it's my plan.
Of course, this falls way outside normal parameters. The chart they gave us to illustrate our normal feeding schedule doesn't even cover an option like this. At the checkup, we had to wait through 2 separate lectures on the topic of how we, specifically, were failing in this right. In order to properly shame us in true slow-grade-school-student fashion, we were made to wait for all the successfully normal Japanese families to leave so that we could enjoy our second elongated lecture.
Admittedly, I tuned out once they started telling us that the way we were doing it is wrong, partially because I don't have the most fluent grasp of the language. There's a part of me though that was always an overachiever, looking to ace any test I could, but I never can here. I can't even pass their tests here because what they are looking for I can never be. A "normal" Japanese housewife isn't even something I can strive to be. Not me.
I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be. I've known quite a few amazing women who happened to be Japanese housewives and they were all sharp, funny, and sweet people. It just isn't for me. I don't enjoy housework and honestly cannot clean as well as they would want. I can't abide putting that much energy into the presentation of dinner. I'd rather spend it writing. I can't even get my daughter to nap somewhere other than my lap long enough for me to regularly update this blog or write in general, which are things I genuinely enjoy doing.
My husband and friends admit that my system isn't crazy. Neither me nor Julia have any pressing business before 9AM on any given day. There is no one who needs to get ready for school or any such stuff yet. While I agree that over time this tradition will have to change, that we will have to have her in bed earlier to help her internal clocks adjust and ensure she has enough rest for the day, right now it's just not necessary, regardless of what other babies are doing.
I'm aiming to change this, of course. One day, we'll be waking up bright and early so that we might have a family breakfast with Daddy before we run off to school or wherever. On those days, we will have an earlier bedtime and an earlier wake-up time.
But not yet.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
3 years since the quake; Chapter 5 is up.
We'll start with good news. Chapter 5 of Strange Fangs is now up and running at JukePop. Go over there, read it, and if you like it, Vote it to let me know.
On to something more somber:
Yesterday marked the 3 year anniversary of the earthquake and tsunami that so devastated the area where I live. This year, when the siren went off to remind us that it was 2:46PM, the same time as the Magnitude 9 quake, I was walking with a former student after a day of pizza and conversation. We stopped and took a moment to think on how much life had changed for us. For me, it was a whole different world.
In March of 2011, I was soon to be engaged, soon to be living away from my in-laws, soon to be wedding planning. I was teaching semi-full-time in Sendai. I had never really explored Shiogama. I talked to one of my friends once a week and my mother too. I would play WoW on the weekends with my brother. Life was simpler in a lot of ways.
Now, we've had the wedding and been married for a couple of years. We spent 2013 going through a tricky pregnancy that led to the most gorgeous and amazing tiny human. She's so smart. I didn't know I could love anything or anyone as much as I love her.
Now I am a housewife/writer and sometimes, occasionally, almost a teacher. To my own surprise, I kinda like it. Part of me wants to rail against this, complain about the inequality and sexism in Japan (it is rampant and awful, don't get me wrong) but for me personally this was actually the right choice. Taking off a few years to take care of my baby is just an idea that works for me. We're lucky to have that option.
Now my brother and I actually talk on the weekend and everyday I have someone to talk to somewhere in the world. I've even managed to make friends within Shiogama! And I have slowly but surely begun to explore.
Three years ago, 30,000 people left this planet in one terrifying event. I wish for peace. Peace for their souls and for those of their families. Peace for the loved ones left behind. Peace for those out here who will never know exactly what happened to the ones they love but only that they can never see them again. I wish them all peace healing and love.
But now my baby is crying, and I must return to the present.
Peace and love to you all.
On to something more somber:
Yesterday marked the 3 year anniversary of the earthquake and tsunami that so devastated the area where I live. This year, when the siren went off to remind us that it was 2:46PM, the same time as the Magnitude 9 quake, I was walking with a former student after a day of pizza and conversation. We stopped and took a moment to think on how much life had changed for us. For me, it was a whole different world.
In March of 2011, I was soon to be engaged, soon to be living away from my in-laws, soon to be wedding planning. I was teaching semi-full-time in Sendai. I had never really explored Shiogama. I talked to one of my friends once a week and my mother too. I would play WoW on the weekends with my brother. Life was simpler in a lot of ways.
Now, we've had the wedding and been married for a couple of years. We spent 2013 going through a tricky pregnancy that led to the most gorgeous and amazing tiny human. She's so smart. I didn't know I could love anything or anyone as much as I love her.
Now I am a housewife/writer and sometimes, occasionally, almost a teacher. To my own surprise, I kinda like it. Part of me wants to rail against this, complain about the inequality and sexism in Japan (it is rampant and awful, don't get me wrong) but for me personally this was actually the right choice. Taking off a few years to take care of my baby is just an idea that works for me. We're lucky to have that option.
Now my brother and I actually talk on the weekend and everyday I have someone to talk to somewhere in the world. I've even managed to make friends within Shiogama! And I have slowly but surely begun to explore.
Three years ago, 30,000 people left this planet in one terrifying event. I wish for peace. Peace for their souls and for those of their families. Peace for the loved ones left behind. Peace for those out here who will never know exactly what happened to the ones they love but only that they can never see them again. I wish them all peace healing and love.
But now my baby is crying, and I must return to the present.
Peace and love to you all.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Writing and Breastfeeding.
Strange Fangs Chapter three had been up on the website for a few days and I've been stumbling madly over chapter 4. I know a lot of the story that has to take place, but piecing it together with all the things that have been written and tweaking the whole event into a single-serving chapter worth reading is more challenging than anticipated, especially when sleep deprived.
New Rule: I go to bed at midnight. I really don't care when anyone else sleeps, but I have to go to bed by midnight. My husband is like a little kid who wants to stay up all night if he can. I'm just not capable of that. Nope.
Also, some thoughts on breastfeeding: it's basically no one's business.
To clarify, I do breastfeed, but it wasn't an easy thing for us to do. The week after Julia was born, I spent excruciating hours of every day having the nurses try to show me new positions in the hopes that a change there might mean less pain for me. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. My hypothesis is that because Julia was born 3 weeks early, my body wasn't ready to work that way just yet. Her mouth was tiny, which one nurse noted as a probably cause of discomfort, but I think more than that it was just that my body hadn't toughened up. In any case, the effect was enough pain that my brain wasn't capable of doing its job.
There is a reason why we must love the babies. From a evolutionary perspective, we just must. It is only reasonable to kill anything that causes you that much pain and insanity...unless you love it.
Anyway, the fact that I breastfeed, that we have come to a point where I can breastfeed directly most of the time, is remarkable and amazing to me, but also none of your business.
And there's something worth noting. Julia and I spent a week in Texas, and in just one week of barely going into public, I was asked a few times about if I was breastfeeding or not. The fact that these people don't know me or my baby is part of the annoyance, just as I would be annoyed at Japanese people who would ask about the race of my child before her name or age. I try not to be offended when they ask but it's hard. That's a personal question. What if I couldn't breastfeed? What if it was physically impossible for me to do so? What if my issues with tenderness came when breast pumps were not affordable? Does this random stranger really want to hear my sob story? Do I really want to have to tell them?
It seems obvious that these strangers are only asking so that they can tell me how much babies need breast milk or how awful it is to use formula. It wouldn't bother me so much if they were just chatty folks aiming to share a story, but no stories are ever shared with me. They ask. I tell them I am. They bugger off, satisfied that the potential yuppie they were going to hassle over the benefits of breast milk is already a convert.
It still is none of their business, however. My baby is being fed. She is not malnourished. Our choices as to what and how to feed her have not led to any obvious problems or failures on our part. This question is BS.
And so, to them I say read this. In a recent study, the difference between breast and bottle feeding was found to be minimal, based on families in which one sibling was breast fed while another was not. The differences other studies find have more to do with other socioeconomic factors. Mothers who can't stay home or afford a breast pump generally don't have a lot of options.
We're lucky. So lucky.
Feel blessed, folks. Feel good. We all get another day on this marvelous space-rock we call home.
New Rule: I go to bed at midnight. I really don't care when anyone else sleeps, but I have to go to bed by midnight. My husband is like a little kid who wants to stay up all night if he can. I'm just not capable of that. Nope.
Also, some thoughts on breastfeeding: it's basically no one's business.
To clarify, I do breastfeed, but it wasn't an easy thing for us to do. The week after Julia was born, I spent excruciating hours of every day having the nurses try to show me new positions in the hopes that a change there might mean less pain for me. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. My hypothesis is that because Julia was born 3 weeks early, my body wasn't ready to work that way just yet. Her mouth was tiny, which one nurse noted as a probably cause of discomfort, but I think more than that it was just that my body hadn't toughened up. In any case, the effect was enough pain that my brain wasn't capable of doing its job.
There is a reason why we must love the babies. From a evolutionary perspective, we just must. It is only reasonable to kill anything that causes you that much pain and insanity...unless you love it.
Anyway, the fact that I breastfeed, that we have come to a point where I can breastfeed directly most of the time, is remarkable and amazing to me, but also none of your business.
And there's something worth noting. Julia and I spent a week in Texas, and in just one week of barely going into public, I was asked a few times about if I was breastfeeding or not. The fact that these people don't know me or my baby is part of the annoyance, just as I would be annoyed at Japanese people who would ask about the race of my child before her name or age. I try not to be offended when they ask but it's hard. That's a personal question. What if I couldn't breastfeed? What if it was physically impossible for me to do so? What if my issues with tenderness came when breast pumps were not affordable? Does this random stranger really want to hear my sob story? Do I really want to have to tell them?
It seems obvious that these strangers are only asking so that they can tell me how much babies need breast milk or how awful it is to use formula. It wouldn't bother me so much if they were just chatty folks aiming to share a story, but no stories are ever shared with me. They ask. I tell them I am. They bugger off, satisfied that the potential yuppie they were going to hassle over the benefits of breast milk is already a convert.
It still is none of their business, however. My baby is being fed. She is not malnourished. Our choices as to what and how to feed her have not led to any obvious problems or failures on our part. This question is BS.
And so, to them I say read this. In a recent study, the difference between breast and bottle feeding was found to be minimal, based on families in which one sibling was breast fed while another was not. The differences other studies find have more to do with other socioeconomic factors. Mothers who can't stay home or afford a breast pump generally don't have a lot of options.
We're lucky. So lucky.
Feel blessed, folks. Feel good. We all get another day on this marvelous space-rock we call home.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Strange Fangs is Up and Running, Chapters 1 and 2
Today I received word from JukePop that my serial vampire novel, Strange Fangs, is up at the website.
You can find it here:
http://www.jukepop.com/home/read/2058
To read what's on the site, you need to complete registration. It's free and gives you the chance to read lots of new fiction by new authors. You can leave comments and support your favorites both with +votes and monetarily if you so choose.
As it is, my story will be up for the next month. On April first, the NaNoWriMo contest that Strange Fangs is a part of ends. With that ending, the writers of the top 3 stories (judged by number of votes alone) get cash prizes.
Being that most writers on the site participating in this thing have had their stories up since January and the top three voting scores are in the triple digits, I am unlikely to win this specific contest. Hopefully, after the contest, JukePop will continue to publish my work and it will gain enough popularity to really mean something.
We'll see.
We're still a bit shaken up about the crazy stuff going on in my mom's neck of the woods. We're all saying our prayers and hoping for the best.
It's all I can think of to do.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Fire and Numbness, Non-fatal
Right now, I have this strange empty feeling, combined with odd tingling down my neck. It isn't unfamiliar, but I haven't felt it in a while. This is the same feeling I used to get as a kid when my parents would fight, but there's something new here. A slight state of shock. My parents fights never came out of nowhere-- it was always building up like summer humidity before a Texas thunderstorm. Afterward, everything would be cool and dry, the tension released. But this isn't like that at all.
Because this came out of nowhere. A day better than the one before. A day in which I talked to the people I was scheduled to talk to, washed the dishes, folded the laundry, and had a little free time. A day in which I already knew what I was going to make for dinner.
And it's not the end of the world. No one died. There's just a threat. Some sad excuse for human waste has violated my mother's property, broken into the yard of a home I was living at only a few weeks ago, and literally set fire to the deck where we shared my wedding rehearsal.
This happened late in the evening. Luckily none of the animals were injured and a neighbor came to wake my mother who, with the assistance of her beau, tended to the matter and had the fire nearly out before the firefighters arrived. It was contained to the deck and there was no damage to the house. There will be an arson investigation and I hope to any and every higher power listening that they catch this disgrace and justice can be served. Mind you, justice in my mind has me waiting in the backyard of my mother's home with a shotgun at 2AM, begging the sad sack to emerge.
That said, my brand of justice is also an impossibility. I cannot afford another airline ticket, especially any time soon. I cannot put my family through the strain of watching me fly off with the baby again so soon. Likewise, I don't feel right about staying put and doing nothing when it feels like the home where I spent the most sustained years of childhood is under attack.
So I am at a loss. I can't stay and I can't go. The only path I can take at the moment is feeding my baby and making dinner. After that, Monty Python. Maybe by then the problem solving parts of my mind will have shown their usefulness.
Because this came out of nowhere. A day better than the one before. A day in which I talked to the people I was scheduled to talk to, washed the dishes, folded the laundry, and had a little free time. A day in which I already knew what I was going to make for dinner.
And it's not the end of the world. No one died. There's just a threat. Some sad excuse for human waste has violated my mother's property, broken into the yard of a home I was living at only a few weeks ago, and literally set fire to the deck where we shared my wedding rehearsal.
This happened late in the evening. Luckily none of the animals were injured and a neighbor came to wake my mother who, with the assistance of her beau, tended to the matter and had the fire nearly out before the firefighters arrived. It was contained to the deck and there was no damage to the house. There will be an arson investigation and I hope to any and every higher power listening that they catch this disgrace and justice can be served. Mind you, justice in my mind has me waiting in the backyard of my mother's home with a shotgun at 2AM, begging the sad sack to emerge.
That said, my brand of justice is also an impossibility. I cannot afford another airline ticket, especially any time soon. I cannot put my family through the strain of watching me fly off with the baby again so soon. Likewise, I don't feel right about staying put and doing nothing when it feels like the home where I spent the most sustained years of childhood is under attack.
So I am at a loss. I can't stay and I can't go. The only path I can take at the moment is feeding my baby and making dinner. After that, Monty Python. Maybe by then the problem solving parts of my mind will have shown their usefulness.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Progress on Strange Fangs and a List of Awesome Things I Did in Texas
Yesterday, I finished editing the first chapter of my vampire novel, here named Strange Fangs, and resubmitted the cover, which was redone by my good friend Nate Sherwin, so it looks a lot closer to professional than it did. Now we wait on Jukepop Serials to OK it for publication. Then we'll see where this goes.
Also, further notes on my Texas trip follow.
Also, further notes on my Texas trip follow.
- I spent one day on the campus of my alma mater, TCU, seeing my favorite professors and chatting at them despite awful jet-lag.
- The next day, there was a party that I was abhorrently late to, but hopefully my friends will forgive me.
- The day after that was a massive trip to the Fort Worth Zoo, which was spectacular despite the weather. I should have planned better for time so that my father and my friend's four year old son would not have been soexhausted by the time we could finally leave. That night, I had the privileged of seeing Fort Worth's Stage West Theater's production of Avenue Q which was amazing and hysterical.
- The day after that was Sunday, which held the Super Bowl and a huge ice storm, so my parents and I grabbed supplies from a nearby grocery store and stayed inside all evening, enjoying barbecue and a warm fire. We were not so much enjoying the game, as it was a blow out and not at the hands of the Dallas Cowboys. I guess any game that started off with a safety within the first few plays can't end in too much of a surprise.
- Then came Monday, which held a trip to the stockyards for one of my dearest friends, Courtney Goode, and me. We wound up having amazing beer and ground sirloin nachos at the White Elephant. When I bought a t-shirt afterward, the awesome barman became the first person to sell me a t-shirt while suggesting a larger size and not offending me. Since the only other place that has happened is Tokyo, I suppose this isn't too surprising, but for me it was wonderful.
- Tuesday was our family outing to the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, where we wound up with free tickets to the rodeo, which we enjoyed immensely.
- Wednesday ended with me having a large family dinner with the Ceron family, which was terribly enjoyable.
Thursday, I left Texas on a severely delayed plane, and the rest was explained in a previous post.
Now, some of these things were perfectly planned and some were not. As I travel, I tend to dwell on the plans in play to make sure that I don't waste all of my time at my destination. That said, with this trip in particular, I found that having some time off with nothing in particular planned really benefited me. Saturday, for instance, I had lunch at Jason's Deli with three of my very best friends. This was planned all of maybe an hour before it occurred, but it was necessary and awesome all the same.
So it is of key importance, I have found, to allow some down time during any vacation or indeed ever to simply be and breathe in your surroundings. The most interesting adventures we have are often those we did not count on having.
Now, I need to engage in present distribution and the general reorganization of things.
Thanks so much for reading.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
The Kindness of Strangers and What to Call my Vampire Novel....?
Before I write a recap of my fantastic trip back to the states, I want to take a minute to share something I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't been there.
This starts with missed flight, which was caused by a several-hour delay stateside waiting for maintenance checks and de-icing. When I finally got out of customs in Japan, I had a total of less than half an hour to get my insanely heavy luggage onto the connecting bus, to the next terminal, off of the bus, and to the gate. I stopped and an information kiosk to try to find a better way but the language barrier was too much for the poor girl at the desk, who wasted 5 minutes of my precious time to tell me to just go take the bus I already knew I needed to take. Even after seeing the lack of time, she didn't think to call the gate and I felt so defeated by her lack of understanding that I was reluctant to demand it in any language. So I went out to meet the bus and a young man behind me offered to help with my luggage, which of course I appreciated.
For this return trip, I had two checked bags, each weighing more than 40 pounds. I'm not used to carrying anything that heavy and have to make this journey with a baby strapped to my chest while also carrying a computer bag, diaper bag, and extra souvenir bag. The last three were stack-able and roll-able so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but moving that much heavy luggage was definitely a struggle.
So I get to the ANA desk area just as the lights dim. It's been five minutes since my flight to Sendai took off. Luckily my husband already knows of my predicament and is already driving to a bullet-train stop roughly halfway between Sendai and Tokyo. I decide to go ahead and get a Skyliner train tocket to Ueno station in Tokyo, from which I can easily board the bullet train. I consider briefly whether or not I should ship my bags but realize after I've bought my ticket that there is no time. If I am to make that train, I don't have an extra 15 minutes to fill out paperwork and pay to ship this stuff. I decide to take the elevator down to the basement level so that I can do what I can to get my heavy crap onto the train, only to find that the elevator doesn't go down that far, probably to stop people like me from trying to bring luggage carts onto the train. Once I figure this out, I run to the escalator where a woman insists I return to the elevator and take it down to the train departure level. As I insist that this is not possible, two foreign men appear and offer to help me move my bags on to the train. The one of them with English skills explains that I should really have sent my luggage back, which I could have done if I hadn't bought my tickets for the train so early. I no longer had time to do so, so the men helped me move my bags onto the train and left.
Then at Ueno a woman in her forties or so helped wheel my bag while I wore my duffle bag as an extremely heavy backpack on the walk from Keisei Ueno station to the other Ueno Station where I could buy a ticket for the bullet train and get on it.
While on the train, two younger ladies helped me stow my luggage and a conductor-type guy found me a seat.
About an hour later, I was departing the train and another woman helped me wheel the same bag down to there my husband was waiting.
Just two hours later, we were finally home, where we spent the next day sleeping and coming to the slow realization that I somehow came down the with flu.
Now we're all better and I am finally cracking open the mystery that is Jukepop Serials. The first chapter of the vampire novel should be online within a week. My problem now is that I need to find a better title than "The Vampire Novel" and finish editing the first chapter to something really readable. Also, some other details through the narrative need to change, just for the sake of becoming manageable.
This starts with missed flight, which was caused by a several-hour delay stateside waiting for maintenance checks and de-icing. When I finally got out of customs in Japan, I had a total of less than half an hour to get my insanely heavy luggage onto the connecting bus, to the next terminal, off of the bus, and to the gate. I stopped and an information kiosk to try to find a better way but the language barrier was too much for the poor girl at the desk, who wasted 5 minutes of my precious time to tell me to just go take the bus I already knew I needed to take. Even after seeing the lack of time, she didn't think to call the gate and I felt so defeated by her lack of understanding that I was reluctant to demand it in any language. So I went out to meet the bus and a young man behind me offered to help with my luggage, which of course I appreciated.
For this return trip, I had two checked bags, each weighing more than 40 pounds. I'm not used to carrying anything that heavy and have to make this journey with a baby strapped to my chest while also carrying a computer bag, diaper bag, and extra souvenir bag. The last three were stack-able and roll-able so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but moving that much heavy luggage was definitely a struggle.
So I get to the ANA desk area just as the lights dim. It's been five minutes since my flight to Sendai took off. Luckily my husband already knows of my predicament and is already driving to a bullet-train stop roughly halfway between Sendai and Tokyo. I decide to go ahead and get a Skyliner train tocket to Ueno station in Tokyo, from which I can easily board the bullet train. I consider briefly whether or not I should ship my bags but realize after I've bought my ticket that there is no time. If I am to make that train, I don't have an extra 15 minutes to fill out paperwork and pay to ship this stuff. I decide to take the elevator down to the basement level so that I can do what I can to get my heavy crap onto the train, only to find that the elevator doesn't go down that far, probably to stop people like me from trying to bring luggage carts onto the train. Once I figure this out, I run to the escalator where a woman insists I return to the elevator and take it down to the train departure level. As I insist that this is not possible, two foreign men appear and offer to help me move my bags on to the train. The one of them with English skills explains that I should really have sent my luggage back, which I could have done if I hadn't bought my tickets for the train so early. I no longer had time to do so, so the men helped me move my bags onto the train and left.
Then at Ueno a woman in her forties or so helped wheel my bag while I wore my duffle bag as an extremely heavy backpack on the walk from Keisei Ueno station to the other Ueno Station where I could buy a ticket for the bullet train and get on it.
While on the train, two younger ladies helped me stow my luggage and a conductor-type guy found me a seat.
About an hour later, I was departing the train and another woman helped me wheel the same bag down to there my husband was waiting.
Just two hours later, we were finally home, where we spent the next day sleeping and coming to the slow realization that I somehow came down the with flu.
Now we're all better and I am finally cracking open the mystery that is Jukepop Serials. The first chapter of the vampire novel should be online within a week. My problem now is that I need to find a better title than "The Vampire Novel" and finish editing the first chapter to something really readable. Also, some other details through the narrative need to change, just for the sake of becoming manageable.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Mindless Facebook Unfriendedness Issues; Sleepless in Clutterland
Admittedly, I don't really get people.
On my report cards in elementary school, they always included a little yes or no check list of 6 things your kid may or may not be doing well, such as using time wisely and being clean and tidy. Without fail, every six-weeks of the school year, I would have all As in the grade column, all Es (for Excellent) in the citizenship column, and a big fat N for "Works well with others" which always bothered me. I never really got the point of having that mark on the page, of letting my parents know how badly I fail at making friends. It seemed to me like putting salt on the wound. It was bad enough that the other kids knew I was weird and didn't want to play with me. Having proof on paper didn't help matters.
I did eventually make friends, a few at a time. Many of the ones I made in high school are still considered friends more than a decade later. But my college associates still perplex me some.
Have you ever noticed it's a friend's birthday on Facebook and, remembering that that friend has a twin sister with shockingly the same birthday, clicked on the links to post on the walls only to find that one of the two has cast you out? Well that's what I just went through. Then I searched for the girl, because it's five in the morning and my brain will not clean more for a minute. She is nowhere to be found. So either she died suddenly and no one bothered to tell me or she has decided to block me, who knows why.
Maybe it was all my whining when I was hospitalized and on bed rest during the pregnancy. Maybe it was the pregnancy in and of itself, and the choices I made around it like giving up my job to stay at home. Maybe she's a nutball. Maybe it was incidental. Maybe I shouldn't care. Correct that--I definitely shouldn't care.
This isn't the first non-crucial acquaintance I've lost on Facebook for reasons that are still unclear to me. Since I don't live in the same city as this person, there is no way for me to easily contact or find her. If she doesn't want me to know her, maybe it's best I just don't know her.
But things like this always give me pause. I think it's because it seems so juvenile-- really a lot of social media does to me-- and pointless. We're friends. No we're not. Friends again. Not. Maybe. Nope. I don;t have time for this. I'm nearly 30 and I've got a baby to raise.
And a house to clean. I really hate cleaning. Tomorrow the in-laws come over to set up the ungodly expensive doll selection they bought for Julia for Hina matsuri (girl's day or doll's festival), which will be set up directly in front of our large closet, meaning I cannot access that closet at all for the next month. Whipee.
I only found out when they were coming earlier today, when my husband came home with tons of news. So I've spent the night cleaning and dealing with the baby and organizing the spare room. And being exhausted. I don't think I should pull all nighters anymore.
That said, there's still more to be done.
Adios, compadres.
On my report cards in elementary school, they always included a little yes or no check list of 6 things your kid may or may not be doing well, such as using time wisely and being clean and tidy. Without fail, every six-weeks of the school year, I would have all As in the grade column, all Es (for Excellent) in the citizenship column, and a big fat N for "Works well with others" which always bothered me. I never really got the point of having that mark on the page, of letting my parents know how badly I fail at making friends. It seemed to me like putting salt on the wound. It was bad enough that the other kids knew I was weird and didn't want to play with me. Having proof on paper didn't help matters.
I did eventually make friends, a few at a time. Many of the ones I made in high school are still considered friends more than a decade later. But my college associates still perplex me some.
Have you ever noticed it's a friend's birthday on Facebook and, remembering that that friend has a twin sister with shockingly the same birthday, clicked on the links to post on the walls only to find that one of the two has cast you out? Well that's what I just went through. Then I searched for the girl, because it's five in the morning and my brain will not clean more for a minute. She is nowhere to be found. So either she died suddenly and no one bothered to tell me or she has decided to block me, who knows why.
Maybe it was all my whining when I was hospitalized and on bed rest during the pregnancy. Maybe it was the pregnancy in and of itself, and the choices I made around it like giving up my job to stay at home. Maybe she's a nutball. Maybe it was incidental. Maybe I shouldn't care. Correct that--I definitely shouldn't care.
This isn't the first non-crucial acquaintance I've lost on Facebook for reasons that are still unclear to me. Since I don't live in the same city as this person, there is no way for me to easily contact or find her. If she doesn't want me to know her, maybe it's best I just don't know her.
But things like this always give me pause. I think it's because it seems so juvenile-- really a lot of social media does to me-- and pointless. We're friends. No we're not. Friends again. Not. Maybe. Nope. I don;t have time for this. I'm nearly 30 and I've got a baby to raise.
And a house to clean. I really hate cleaning. Tomorrow the in-laws come over to set up the ungodly expensive doll selection they bought for Julia for Hina matsuri (girl's day or doll's festival), which will be set up directly in front of our large closet, meaning I cannot access that closet at all for the next month. Whipee.
I only found out when they were coming earlier today, when my husband came home with tons of news. So I've spent the night cleaning and dealing with the baby and organizing the spare room. And being exhausted. I don't think I should pull all nighters anymore.
That said, there's still more to be done.
Adios, compadres.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Dontosai and Changes in Perception
Last Tuesday was Dontosai, which in essence for me is a huge bonfire near the Shiogama Shrine. Every year people buy charms from the friendly neighborhood shinto shrine. Each charm has a specific function. For instance, the good driving charm is usually in the form of a sticker and can be found on the cars of those who buy one. There are charms for health, wealth, general good luck, exams, work, love, and as I found out recently pregnancy. A pink pouch on a white string is supposed to ward off evil while a small ceramic dog places overlooking your bed should ensure a fast, painless delivery. I shrug at these as I wound up on bed rest for 3 months of the 8 month pregnancy and the delivery was very painfully, but also wonderfully short. On the up side, she was and is healthy, so it could have been significantly worse.
Anyway, on to Dontosai. During the first week of January, every good shintoist visits a shrine and buys the new charms for the new year. Then, a few weeks later, these people gather the charms from the previous year (in a nice big paper bag if they're smart) and head off to the bonfire. I have come to the conclusion that the act of burning the charms is a way of giving the luck back to the gods and saying thanks for whatever luck they provided that year. My husband seemed to agree, so this is the notion I'm sticking with.
Of course I am up for this thing. I'm not really religious in any direction, but a fire in the winter up here is almost always welcome. Also, it is said that one warmed by the fires of Dontosai can't get ill for the following year. The funny thing is that following Dontosai last year, both my husband and I caught a virus, but that is neither here nor there. There's a big fire or two and chocolate covered bananas to be bought. We had to go.
So my husband and I walked up a monsterous number of stairs. Since he has a better sense of balance and less weight, he wore the baby carrier and walked with me stumbling breathlessly beside him. I really do need to get into better shape.
When we finally got there we saw the fire in what I know now is it's usual place. As I stared into it, the bonfire casts bits of these old charms--embers and scraps of flaming paper; thin ashen chunks with the last lick of flaming orange lining slowly receding-- up into the air. For some reason, I drifted back to a phase of thought I'd last visited as a teen on the shores of Galveston Island, theorising that humans are like waves in that some crest too early and are devoured by others while others crest perfectly at their apex and still some never crest at all.
These flaming bits of ash spoke to me too, fifteen years later. Maybe that's what we are-- bits of drifting flame helplessly drifting with the winds of change and landing where we will. But some don't even get off the pile. Some burn and smolder there, finding their brightest and darkest moments in the same spot. Others drift so far so fast that they burn out unseen and far from home. Still others come up into a glorious arch, tasting the realm of birds before plummeting back to the fire.
Admittedly, if we were all flaming bits of paper flying through the air, it would be terrifying and crowded. Also very dangerous to any non-flaming-paper-bits.
All of this brings us to a recent revelation-- I like living in Japan.
That's not to say I didn't enjoy it before. After five and a half years, you'd think I would have adjusted more. I moved here with purpose, which then was to master the language and have some adventures before I was saddled with a spouse, children, and mortgage. Instead I met a fascinating man and had some different adventures than expected, including What Happens When Your Company Goes Under in Japanese and Living with Your Potential Future In-Laws. And maybe it's this most recent adventure, Bed Rest Pregnancy in Japanese, that has pulled me more solidly into this country.
It could also be that I have recently started making friends I don't work with, and since I stopped teaching I don't actually work with anyone but Julia. Most likely the cause is my new found lack of employment. I've been given a chance to take a breath and make a real life out here for me and my little family. I'm not trying to cram as many Japanese experiences as I can into a short time with the idea that I'll be leaving soon. I also no longer find it necessary to hide in my apartment (also known as my Texas Bubble) quite as much as I used to. When I go to the grocery store now, I have actually started looking for produce and products I can use instead of what I readily recognize.
It's amazing how much of the world you lose when you keep the blinders of familiarity firmly in place.
Finally, at long last, I think I like it here.
Anyway, on to Dontosai. During the first week of January, every good shintoist visits a shrine and buys the new charms for the new year. Then, a few weeks later, these people gather the charms from the previous year (in a nice big paper bag if they're smart) and head off to the bonfire. I have come to the conclusion that the act of burning the charms is a way of giving the luck back to the gods and saying thanks for whatever luck they provided that year. My husband seemed to agree, so this is the notion I'm sticking with.
Of course I am up for this thing. I'm not really religious in any direction, but a fire in the winter up here is almost always welcome. Also, it is said that one warmed by the fires of Dontosai can't get ill for the following year. The funny thing is that following Dontosai last year, both my husband and I caught a virus, but that is neither here nor there. There's a big fire or two and chocolate covered bananas to be bought. We had to go.
So my husband and I walked up a monsterous number of stairs. Since he has a better sense of balance and less weight, he wore the baby carrier and walked with me stumbling breathlessly beside him. I really do need to get into better shape.
When we finally got there we saw the fire in what I know now is it's usual place. As I stared into it, the bonfire casts bits of these old charms--embers and scraps of flaming paper; thin ashen chunks with the last lick of flaming orange lining slowly receding-- up into the air. For some reason, I drifted back to a phase of thought I'd last visited as a teen on the shores of Galveston Island, theorising that humans are like waves in that some crest too early and are devoured by others while others crest perfectly at their apex and still some never crest at all.
These flaming bits of ash spoke to me too, fifteen years later. Maybe that's what we are-- bits of drifting flame helplessly drifting with the winds of change and landing where we will. But some don't even get off the pile. Some burn and smolder there, finding their brightest and darkest moments in the same spot. Others drift so far so fast that they burn out unseen and far from home. Still others come up into a glorious arch, tasting the realm of birds before plummeting back to the fire.
Admittedly, if we were all flaming bits of paper flying through the air, it would be terrifying and crowded. Also very dangerous to any non-flaming-paper-bits.
All of this brings us to a recent revelation-- I like living in Japan.
That's not to say I didn't enjoy it before. After five and a half years, you'd think I would have adjusted more. I moved here with purpose, which then was to master the language and have some adventures before I was saddled with a spouse, children, and mortgage. Instead I met a fascinating man and had some different adventures than expected, including What Happens When Your Company Goes Under in Japanese and Living with Your Potential Future In-Laws. And maybe it's this most recent adventure, Bed Rest Pregnancy in Japanese, that has pulled me more solidly into this country.
It could also be that I have recently started making friends I don't work with, and since I stopped teaching I don't actually work with anyone but Julia. Most likely the cause is my new found lack of employment. I've been given a chance to take a breath and make a real life out here for me and my little family. I'm not trying to cram as many Japanese experiences as I can into a short time with the idea that I'll be leaving soon. I also no longer find it necessary to hide in my apartment (also known as my Texas Bubble) quite as much as I used to. When I go to the grocery store now, I have actually started looking for produce and products I can use instead of what I readily recognize.
It's amazing how much of the world you lose when you keep the blinders of familiarity firmly in place.
Finally, at long last, I think I like it here.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Co-sleeping and Staying-at-home
I've been meaning to write a post of consequence and at some point that might happen, but for now I will fill the world of cyberspace with some of my favorite simplicities of my current way of life.
My favorite time of day is the short stretch of hours between my husband leaving for work and my needing to wake up because shortly after he leaves, the baby wakes up hungry. I take her into my bed, feed her, and then, snuggling together for warmth, we both pass out. It is wonderful.
When it comes to co-sleeping, I am fairly middle of the road about it. I don't think it works for everyone, but it apparently works for some. It is my belief that a light sleeper who doesn't mind not moving for hours on end can co-sleep with their infant as they choose. For people like my husband, loud-snoring toss-n-turners who can fall almost immediately into a deep sleep, this might not be the best idea. I've seen him sleep through the baby screaming less than a foot from him. Co-sleeping might be dangerous for him.
I think it also depends a lot on the age, personality, and sleeping habits of the baby. Mine can get to sleep on her own sometimes but would rather eat until she passed out. She's not the deepest sleeper but has little trouble letting me sleep in in the mornings. We can co-sleep occasionally for short intervals without me going crazy with worry, so that's what we do.
As with much of parenting, a lot of it seems to come down to whatever works for you.
In other news, we're gearing up for our trip to the states at the end of the month. I'm trying to make enough plans that I won't feel cheated when it's over and we're back in Japan for years on end.
Also, today I got a call from an associate of a friend of mine, offering me a teaching opportunity. Despite my dedication toward being a stay-at-home mom for the moment, the details of the class didn't seem awful. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss teaching and going to Sendai on a regular basis. It would be equally untrue to say that I didn't enjoy my time with my baby or to say that I wanted that to end soon. In my opinion, if I can stay-at-home and write while taking care of my baby until she's ready for kindergarten, I will have won.
It seems like that might take more determination than I was counting on. Considering the current economic climate for much of the world, I would feel like a jerk for not taking work that was offered to me. By the same measure, I already have a multifaceted, challenging job, albeit one I don't get a paycheck for. But this isn't the first person to ask when I'm coming back to teaching (not if) or if I would like to work with them when I do.
The offers are always flattering, even though the people offering usually haven't watched me teach, but if I'm not ready for it, then that is the bottom line.
In any case, no decisions on this account will be settled until I'm back from the states. I just won't have the energy until then.
Time to run about and try to finish cleaning this messy house. I am better at being a mom than being a housewife. I'm actually fairly awful at housewifery.
Take care, cyberspace!
My favorite time of day is the short stretch of hours between my husband leaving for work and my needing to wake up because shortly after he leaves, the baby wakes up hungry. I take her into my bed, feed her, and then, snuggling together for warmth, we both pass out. It is wonderful.
When it comes to co-sleeping, I am fairly middle of the road about it. I don't think it works for everyone, but it apparently works for some. It is my belief that a light sleeper who doesn't mind not moving for hours on end can co-sleep with their infant as they choose. For people like my husband, loud-snoring toss-n-turners who can fall almost immediately into a deep sleep, this might not be the best idea. I've seen him sleep through the baby screaming less than a foot from him. Co-sleeping might be dangerous for him.
I think it also depends a lot on the age, personality, and sleeping habits of the baby. Mine can get to sleep on her own sometimes but would rather eat until she passed out. She's not the deepest sleeper but has little trouble letting me sleep in in the mornings. We can co-sleep occasionally for short intervals without me going crazy with worry, so that's what we do.
As with much of parenting, a lot of it seems to come down to whatever works for you.
In other news, we're gearing up for our trip to the states at the end of the month. I'm trying to make enough plans that I won't feel cheated when it's over and we're back in Japan for years on end.
Also, today I got a call from an associate of a friend of mine, offering me a teaching opportunity. Despite my dedication toward being a stay-at-home mom for the moment, the details of the class didn't seem awful. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss teaching and going to Sendai on a regular basis. It would be equally untrue to say that I didn't enjoy my time with my baby or to say that I wanted that to end soon. In my opinion, if I can stay-at-home and write while taking care of my baby until she's ready for kindergarten, I will have won.
It seems like that might take more determination than I was counting on. Considering the current economic climate for much of the world, I would feel like a jerk for not taking work that was offered to me. By the same measure, I already have a multifaceted, challenging job, albeit one I don't get a paycheck for. But this isn't the first person to ask when I'm coming back to teaching (not if) or if I would like to work with them when I do.
The offers are always flattering, even though the people offering usually haven't watched me teach, but if I'm not ready for it, then that is the bottom line.
In any case, no decisions on this account will be settled until I'm back from the states. I just won't have the energy until then.
Time to run about and try to finish cleaning this messy house. I am better at being a mom than being a housewife. I'm actually fairly awful at housewifery.
Take care, cyberspace!
Monday, January 6, 2014
Things We Saw at the Doctor's Office: Shaken-a-baby; No fly zone
Yesterday was Julia's first vaccination, and she behaved perfectly. She didn't cry or whine or scream at all aside from being fussy because she was hungry on our way out.
What was more interesting than our tiny, well behaved baby was the behavior of the other kids and parents in the room. Two women sat next to us with their babies strapped to their chests, and when their babies got fussy while waiting for the shot, the mother in each case grabbed their baby, lifted it out of the carrier and gave it one hard shake followed by jiggling. I'm all up for jiggling babies, but the hard shaking bugs me.
Part of the "joys" of having a baby in Japan is having to sit through hours of parenting class at the hospital where the overall message is don't eat western food, you must breastfeed, and don't shake your baby. I'm guessing they weren't paying attention to the end of that.
I try to keep in mind that parenting by comparison is a fool's game. I shouldn't be watching and judging everyone else, even as they do the same to me. The real goal is to be able to see other parents interacting with their kids without any thought other than, "That seems to work for them."
But what do you do when you see something that disturbs you? Since it all happened really quickly, and honestly my Japanese isn't really good enough to do anything like this tactfully, I just tried to look away and keep my distance.
It's not my job to save all the babies. It is my job to keep the one I made as safe and healthy as I can. This brings us to another problem with Japanese cultural norms.
It seems here that even after 2013, pregnant women and mothers are expected to forfeit every part of their pre-motherhood life that didn't involve eating copious fish and rice while breastfeeding constantly and parenting. When I was pregnant and had planned a vacation in the states we were advised not to. This was when it was believed that we had a perfectly normal, average pregnancy. Luckily due to the timing of my three week vacation, they moved up our transvaginal ultrasound and found that my cervix was half the length it was supposed to be. This meant that not only did I have to cancel my trip, I also had to quit my part-time job and surrender to bed rest indefinitely. The following week, we began our cycle of hospitalization and release that would last the rest of the pregnancy.
But in America, if you have a normal, average pregnancy with no complications, we wouldn't expect you to stay grounded indefinitely. And if you chose to take your normal, average 5 month old baby on an overseas vacation, the topic itself would not be as much a big deal as vaccinations and taking care to ensure the baby chews and pops her ears on take off and landing. Here even the topic makes the doctor give you a look of judgment before telling you that traveling with an infant is never advisable, as if I suggested feeding her poison.
It is my assumption, untested as this assumption may be, that the problem here is an archaic mindset. I want to say it's on the part of the doctors, but it's a cultural norm here. An expectation. Once you're a mother, that's basically all you are; the only thing you can be.
To me, daughter of a working mom who herself was a daughter of a working mom, this idea is as foreign as they come. Keeping in mind that my husband doesn't make tons of money, in a few years there won't be much of a choice. I will have to work, whether it's selling my writing or teaching again. We don't make enough to be a single-income household, the way most households were here through the end of the bubble economy.
But it's not just the lack of working options. You're not supposed to fly. People don't get babysitters. You don't have a life. You should be cleaning and taking care of the baby and that is all. No private time. No hobbies. No interests outside of being as perfect a mother/housekeeper/homemaker as you can muster.
I guess, given those assumptions and a lack of alternatives provided here, I can understand why the other women were so frustrated with their crying babies.
But that's still no reason to shake a baby.
What was more interesting than our tiny, well behaved baby was the behavior of the other kids and parents in the room. Two women sat next to us with their babies strapped to their chests, and when their babies got fussy while waiting for the shot, the mother in each case grabbed their baby, lifted it out of the carrier and gave it one hard shake followed by jiggling. I'm all up for jiggling babies, but the hard shaking bugs me.
Part of the "joys" of having a baby in Japan is having to sit through hours of parenting class at the hospital where the overall message is don't eat western food, you must breastfeed, and don't shake your baby. I'm guessing they weren't paying attention to the end of that.
I try to keep in mind that parenting by comparison is a fool's game. I shouldn't be watching and judging everyone else, even as they do the same to me. The real goal is to be able to see other parents interacting with their kids without any thought other than, "That seems to work for them."
But what do you do when you see something that disturbs you? Since it all happened really quickly, and honestly my Japanese isn't really good enough to do anything like this tactfully, I just tried to look away and keep my distance.
It's not my job to save all the babies. It is my job to keep the one I made as safe and healthy as I can. This brings us to another problem with Japanese cultural norms.
It seems here that even after 2013, pregnant women and mothers are expected to forfeit every part of their pre-motherhood life that didn't involve eating copious fish and rice while breastfeeding constantly and parenting. When I was pregnant and had planned a vacation in the states we were advised not to. This was when it was believed that we had a perfectly normal, average pregnancy. Luckily due to the timing of my three week vacation, they moved up our transvaginal ultrasound and found that my cervix was half the length it was supposed to be. This meant that not only did I have to cancel my trip, I also had to quit my part-time job and surrender to bed rest indefinitely. The following week, we began our cycle of hospitalization and release that would last the rest of the pregnancy.
But in America, if you have a normal, average pregnancy with no complications, we wouldn't expect you to stay grounded indefinitely. And if you chose to take your normal, average 5 month old baby on an overseas vacation, the topic itself would not be as much a big deal as vaccinations and taking care to ensure the baby chews and pops her ears on take off and landing. Here even the topic makes the doctor give you a look of judgment before telling you that traveling with an infant is never advisable, as if I suggested feeding her poison.
It is my assumption, untested as this assumption may be, that the problem here is an archaic mindset. I want to say it's on the part of the doctors, but it's a cultural norm here. An expectation. Once you're a mother, that's basically all you are; the only thing you can be.
To me, daughter of a working mom who herself was a daughter of a working mom, this idea is as foreign as they come. Keeping in mind that my husband doesn't make tons of money, in a few years there won't be much of a choice. I will have to work, whether it's selling my writing or teaching again. We don't make enough to be a single-income household, the way most households were here through the end of the bubble economy.
But it's not just the lack of working options. You're not supposed to fly. People don't get babysitters. You don't have a life. You should be cleaning and taking care of the baby and that is all. No private time. No hobbies. No interests outside of being as perfect a mother/housekeeper/homemaker as you can muster.
I guess, given those assumptions and a lack of alternatives provided here, I can understand why the other women were so frustrated with their crying babies.
But that's still no reason to shake a baby.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)