I accept a last-minute assignment from headquarters that sounds like the kind of thing that will inch me one step closer to fame. Something about Panasonic and software and recording my lovely female American voice. I didn't really need to hear any more.

[MEET MR. KADO AT SHINAGAWA SEASIDE STATION AT 10:30 AM. WEAR BUSINESS CLOTHES AND DON'T BE LATE]

It's 10:40, and Zach and I are standing in the station watching the babies go by. The strollers are out in force, but there's no Mr. Kado to be seen. Finally at around 10:45, a short young guy shows up who appears to have just rolled out of bed and fallen into a business suit.

So much for Japanese punctuality.

We spend the next fifteen minutes following a flustered and squirrely Mr. Kado (nicknamed "JohnJohn") through the Shinagawa business district as he turns his photocopied map around and around in his hands.

There are signs with area maps on every corner. JohnJohn needs to chill out.

...

We arrive in the cavernous lobby of the Panasonic building and are greeted by three receptionists in matching yellow plaid outfits.

I cannot for the life of me figure out how to attach my visitor tag to my suitjacket. Zach helps me just in time so that my awkwardness will not be spotted by the two salarymen who have just walked into the lobby.

Between Mr. Kado and the two strangers, a flurry of bowing and business cards. They take each others' cards with both hands and continue to hold them like treasured objects. The two men turn to me.

"Hi, I'm Christine. Nice to meet you." I take the business cards in both hands like Mr. Kado had done, then instinctually go for the handshake. But my hands are full, so I switch the cards to one hand and weakly shake with the other. And now they're bowing at me and "yoroshiku onegaishimasu" so am I supposed to bow back? Not wanting to offend, I give it a shot, but only manage to spasm above the shoulders.

I'm not the bowing type.

...

We're in the elevator. Total silence. I'm fighting the snort with every fiber of my being.
"Don'tlaughdon'tlaughdon'tlaughJesusChristdon'tyoudarelaughChristine."
From the looks of him, Zach seems to be going through the same mental process.

We make it to the seventh floor, go through a futuristic security door, and are led into a conference room at the end of the hall. On the table is a laptop and a headset. JohnJohn stands there like an idiot, staring into space, while the two men give us instructions in Japanese. We're going to go into separate rooms, each with a computer, and read sports terms into a microphone. Easy enough.

Occasionally in one's life, there are moments when one takes a step back and says to oneself, "What the hell is going on?"
I'm now sitting at a table next to a nerdy Japanese man in a suit, who is taking notes while I say "Red Card...Yellow Card...Push Pass...Indirect Free Kick..." The computer program is showing a video of Paris for some reason, and the second hand of the clock on the wall is wiggling but not going anywhere.

...

We're almost done. I have recited somewhere around 1,100 terms into the computer, most of which I've never heard in my life. In the meantime, our friend JohnJohn has vanished. Zach comes into the room, already finished, and I start to re-record a few words that hadn't come out right.
But I'm soon interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a bizarre song blasting out of every loudspeaker in the building at the stroke of 1:00.

"Oh, they always play that at 1:00. We sing the company song when we get back from lunch every day."

Zach and I just look at each other.

...

I try to make it out of the building without having to bow again. Doesn't work. The two men go through all the formalities all over again, and see us off by standing there in the lobby side-by-side, straight-backed and serious, bowing intermittently. Zach and I walk through the giant double glass door into the sunlight, and immediately lose it.

After we had walked and laughed for about fifty feet, Zach asks "Do you think they're still standing there?"
I turn around to look.

The salarymen are still standing there, in the same exact position. They see me looking at them, and simultaneously bow in response.

Oh, Japan.

So here we are.

I'm feeling better now. I gave myself a few pep talks, took some walks, got some sun, etc. I think one of the problems has been that my job is already getting monotonous. I've never had a real job like this, and it's been years since I've taken a class that lasted more than a few months. It's like I keep expecting change to happen, and I'm getting the opposite. The reality of settling into a routine as a college graduate is a little weird. But the truth is, I'm having a good time. Life is sweet. And I'm finally starting to get off my ass and get proactive about learning Japanese, which can be really rewarding. I realized today that I am now able to say things like: "Someone in this apartment is using too much toilet paper, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this." (Kono apaato no naka ni dare ka toire peepaa o tsukaisugite irun dakara, minuku tsumori.)

Anyway, here's a rant:
Tokyo is one of the most famously crowded cities in the world, but for some reason people do not know how to freakin' walk. It's really ridiculous. There are many types of people who interfere with my ability to get from one place to another. Usually it's your average run-of-the-mill situation where the street is a river of people, and a person or group of people will just arbitrarily stop and look around. Or the girls walking through Tokyo in three-inch stiletto heels, wobbling along at less than half my normal speed. What can be really obnoxious is that bicycles share sidewalk space with pedestrians, yet there's no system in place whatsoever. Say I'm walking on the right side of the sidewalk. A bike comes up behind me ringing its bell, so I switch to walking on the left side. *ring ring* Another bike. Oops, better move to the right side again. *ring ring* Sorry, let me get out of your way. *ring ring* WHAT THE FUCK.
Another WTF has to do with the retarded way that couples NEED TO BE TOUCHING EACH OTHER AT ALL TIMES. I'm in the center of the center of Tokyo at a major clothing store, and I cannot get through the doorway because each couple holding hands forms an impenitrable wall of PDA. Large groups of schoolkids are the same way, completely oblivious to the fact that there are other people trying to get by. Omiya has gigantic sidewalks by Japanese standards, and I still can't get around the armies of uniformed teens.
I also get annoyed when people are walking in the opposite direction at a crowded time, and, seemingly oblivious to my presence, will leave absolutely no space for me to get by. The arrows on the floor of the train station are there for a reason, assholes. So it becomes a war of sorts, wherein I tell myself I absolutely will not suffer the indignity of turning sideways and squeezing by people who refuse to do the same for me. So we bump into each other. And I assume that they spend the rest of the day after that thinking about their "encounter with the rude foreigner."

Alright, that's done.

Anyway, yeah. Teaching English is either really fun or really horrible. It all depends on the students. I cannot teach anyone social skills, nor can I come up with a hundred topics of conversation when you've answered ninety-nine questions with a short sentence and an expectant look at me.
I fail to understand why it is so difficult for people to figure out a reasonable flow of conversation in English, when they're perfectly fine conversationalists in Japanese. A typical example (this occurred today):
Me: "So, Hiroko, what are you going to do today?"
Hiroko: "I'm going to iron some clothes."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Satoshi, let's ask Hiroko another question. Remember: 'What else...'"
Satoshi: "How long are you going to iron?"

I also seem to get a lot of people wandering into English school in a state of near-coma, who plop down and proceed to engage me in a thrilling conversation that goes somewhat like this:
Me: "Nobusato, good to see you again. How are you today?"
Nobusato: "I am tired."
Me: "Tired? Why?"
Nobusato: "I work today."
Me: "What do you do?"
Nobusato: "I am office worker."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Well, what do you like to do in your free time?"
Nobusato: "I sleep."
*awkward pause*
Me: "Well, have you seen any movies recently? Done anything interesting?"
Nobusato: "Nothing special."

Having fifteen to twenty minutes of free-talk time built into each lesson plan, you can imagine how awesome this can be.

And sometimes it's just unpredictable. Like this one from a low-level lesson I taught today:
Me: "Okay, today we're going to learn about buying things in America, using dollars and cents. Has anyone been to America?"
Yoko: "No."
Miyuki: "No."
Yoshikazu: "I hate America."
Me: "Uhhhhh OKAY! Let's turn to page 34."

But I do get a good amount of fun people who are actually interested in learning and have something to say, and that can be great. It's pretty funny when people hang onto every word I say like it's gold. It's really made me aware of how much bullshit I spout in everyday conversation (a lot).

So between classes today, I was making small-talk in simple English by the desk of the sole staff member working at my school (nicknamed "Ellen," I have no idea what her Japanese name is). I told her I thought that my previous student Daisuke was cute and nice, and she looked up at me with an innocent smile and said, "You should attack!"
Stuff like this is becoming commonplace.

So here I am, drinking a Kirin Ichiban of questionable age that I found in the back of the fridge. I don't particularly want to write in my blog, but it's been a while and the guilt is building up. So here we go.

Today was a particularly difficult and homesick day. I started out early in the morning (10ish) by waking up into a state of half-consciousness to hear a male voice speaking formal Japanese IN MY HOUSE. I stayed awake just long enough to think to myself "It is surely the cops, and they are surely coming to get me," and immediately fell back asleep. I would be told later that a random guy came and stood in our doorway, asked Melissa a whole bunch of unintelligible questions, then proceeded to drop to his knees and pray and sing at her in Japanese. Oh, Japan.
After I woke up for real (12:30ish), I proceeded to spend the better part of my pre-work period moping around the apartment feeling sorry for myself that a) omg college is over, and b) I no longer have access to a Putnam Street sandwich on wheat bread.
I then threw on some dress clothes (dirty) and dragged myself to work, where my seven classes in a row were mostly awkward and I wanted nothing more than to leave. Finally, 9:30 came and I had to run to catch my train back home, because the Saikyo line only runs every twenty minutes. Back in Omiya, I looked around for ages for something to eat other than Japanese Crap (difficult to do at 10pm), and had to settle on a pack of passable mini-pizzas from the 24-hour grocery store. And the grocery store was OUT OF BREAD. How does that happen?!
So here I am now, post-mini-pizza-but-still-hungry, drinking this skanky ass old beer because my soda is still warm, with a persistent nagging feeling that I'm not doing such a good job at this whole "growing up" thing.

In short, my shiny new Japan life is not always fun. Most days, I really don't do anything but wake up, go to work, come home, and sit on the computer until I go to bed.

But I've got big plans for this weekend. Tomorrow, I'm visiting TUJ and seeing Joe for the first time in a year and a half. Friday, I'm going to a concert in Shibuya. And Saturday, Adam's coming in from Toyama to spend the night.

Nevermind that I have to work Saturday and Sunday morning. That's gonna be a laugh riot.

I'll keep you posted...maybe.

Oh, and here's a new Christine Scavenger Hunt for you: see if you can find me here and here.