Mr. Obvious

There is a man at my school who works in the office. He is a very sweet and nice man. I call him Mr. Obvious. Mr. Obvious cannot speak English, but he knows a small collection of English words, mostly nouns and adjectives. My interaction with Mr. Obvious usually begins first thing in the morning, as I pass the office when going to the teachers' room. Although I know he cannot speak English, I find it strange that Mr. Obvious lacks even the most perfunctory understanding of standard greetings. Our morning interaction usually begins like this:

Me: "Good morning!"
Mr. Obvious: "Ah! John-San!Good morning."

(so far so good...but here's where it gets a little tricky)

Me: "How are you?"
Mr. Obvious: "How are you?"
Me: "Oh, me? I'm good. How are you?"
Mr. Obvious: "How are you?"
Me: " Fine, but how are YOU?!"
Mr. Obvious: "How are you?"

And so on...

Mr. Obvious comes into the teacher's room a lot on various errands, and when he passes my desk, he thankfully takes the time to name the activity in which I am in the middle of, or simply points and lists off the things that are scattered on my desk. Mr. Obvious also hates to waste his time with sentences, let alone questions (other than "How are you?"), as he finds it more efficient to use the shortest vernacular available. For example:

(When I am preparing materials for class)

Mr. Obvious: "Ohhh, English."

(When I am eating lunch)

Mr. Obvious: "Ohhh, food."

(When I am reading)

Mr. Obvious: "Ohhh, book."

(When I am talking with someone else)

Mr. Obvious: "Ohhh, talk."

(Or when I'm studying Japanese)

Mr. Obvious: "Ohhh, Japanese."

Mr. Obvious is always innocently smiling when he does all this, so I cannot say that he is annoying. Yet, he unfailingly makes me feel two things:

1.) What it must have been like to be a caveman, and

2.) an unsatiable desire to have the ability to translate this English phrase into Japanese: "NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!"

My Ju-hachi-ban

I'd like to talk about my Karaoke career since I've been in Japan. The Japanese have a saying: "Kono uta wa watashino ju-hachi-ban desu." This literally translates to, "This song is my number 18," but it means that the song currently being sung is the singer's specialty, that they feel they're pretty damn good at singing it, everybody cheers when the singer announces his/her ju-hachi-ban, and it's all very good and fun, and I've had many a ju-hachi-ban's since I've been in Japan.

I feel that my ju-hachi-ban somehow reflects where I'm at in terms of my cultural understanding/progression and basic condition at any given time here, though I don't think it makes sense to anyone but myself. Toto's "Africa" was a long-standing ju-hachi-ban, mostly during my period of transition to a different lifestyle in a different country. After I acclimatized, I moved on to "Private Eyes" by Hall and Oats, then eventually graduated to "Stray Cat Strut," by the Stay Cats. This was my COOL era. Then I quickly became UNCOOL after a short career spent experimenting with Starship's "We Built This City." To compensate, I went with "Bulls on Parade," by Rage Against the Machine, though I had to cut this career a little short due to the looks of complete disgust I received when I would sing/rap it. After that, I tried A-Ha's "Take on Me" but I can't hit that high note when he sings, "I'll...be...gone...in...a...DAYYYYYYY OR TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" So, during that era, I went with Simple Minds' "Don't you (Forget About Me)," a decent compromise I felt.

Life flows like a river at large, but my ju-hachi-ban is my rock island, my everlasting bank, my rubber raft in tumultuous, unpredictable rapids.

I must admit, however, my recent ju-hachi-ban has me somewhat perplexed. On the one hand, it excites me to sing it. My heart starts beating rapidly when I see the first line of the song--"CHAAA!"--scroll across the screen in pink writing. It's as though my heart's palpatations were kept in mind when the writer first scribbled down the lyrics. But on the other hand, I can't quite ignore the metaphysical implications that are contained in the fact that I can't go to a single karaoke session without singing "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses. At first, I felt like a G N'R junky with a sad, shameful addiction to butt-rock.

And, furthermore, why has this song been my damn ju-hachi-ban for the past YEAR?! It's been proven that the average ju-hachi-ban's life span is two to six months, at which point it's appropriate to move on. But, why oh why oh why can I NOT stop singing this song? Actually, I know why: because it rules! Sure, I sing other songs, but when I really want to impress someone, or make them feel uncomfortable, or just be really obnoxious, I throw in G N' R's song about...well, I'm really not sure what that song is about, but I scream in my Axliest of voices: "YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?! YOU'RE IN THE JUNGLE, BABY! AND YOU'RE GONNA DIIIIEEEEE!"

At first, people used to cheer when I'd announce my Guns N' Roses ju-hachi-ban. They used to chime in when I'd screech "sha-na-na-na-knees knees!" but now they just rest their heads on the wall and avert their eyes to the ceiling to avoid seeing the spectacle I'm making of myself...many a click of the tongue.

At my school's Christmas party last year, the other teachers asked me to sing a Christmas song. I sang "Welcome to the Jungle." Unfortunately, I fear it did not put them in the "Christmas Spirit." Too bad for them. Then, at another session with some friends, one girl actually cut my song off halfway through, can you believe that? I hadn't even reached the part that's like:

"When you're high you never...ever wanna come down. SO DOWN! SOOOO DOWWWWNN!! SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DOOOOWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNN--KKKKKKKKYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAA!!!


She and I are no longer on speaking terms.


Also, from the very start, it has been impossible to sit while singing "Welcome to the Jungle." Actually, it is impossible NOT to stand up on the karaoke booth couches and do the Axl Snake Slither Dance, the one I know you know.

Perhaps it is a reflection of my growing maturity (or whatever), but I have come to accept my relationship with "Welcome to the Jungle," which is to say, I have become comfortable with worshipping it. I no longer sing it with the half-embarrassed, half-joking demeanor I once feigned in order to hide my abiding love for this song. No, now I sing it in complete SERIOUSNESS, and feel that I am able to evoke the same kind of pride in butt-rock that Axl, Slash, Izzy, Dizzy, and Duff displayed during their reign as the greatest rock n' roll band EVER. In the words of Axl himself:

"We are the people who can find/whatever you may need/If you got the money, honey, we've got your disease!"

I have NO idea what this means, but, man, does it sound COOL...

A List for You, Japan...

For "International Understanding day" at Arajuku Elementary School, I fielded some questions from the first graders, ages 6 and 7. Here is a list their questions. They all begin with, "John-Sensei,...":

"How old are you?"

"Where are you from?"

"Do you know how old I am?"

"What do you like?"

"Why are you in Japan?"

"Do you have a lover?"

"Why are your eyes green?"

"Do you have school in America?"

"Do you come from America every day by bicycle or by car?"

"What is your favorite insect?"

"Do you like poop--ha ha ha ha!"

"Did you eat insects when you were small?"

"Do you know how old my mother is?"

"Do you like dung beetles?"

"Did you know my father likes soccer?"

"Do they have orange juice in America?"

"Between a black dung beetle and a gray dung beetle, who do you think would win in a fight?"

"Do you know how old my sister is?"

"Why were you born in America?"

"Why can you speak English?"

"Would you ever eat a black dung beetle?"

"What food do you like?"

"What's your blood type?"

"...how about a gray dung beetle?"

"How many friends do you have?"

"Did you know I can play soccer?"

"Did you know my favorite beetle is the gray dung beetle...?"

(In reply, I offered a joke which, originally, I thought was pretty funny.)

Me: "Yes, I like Beatles, too. But, I'd have to say my most favorite is Paul. HA HA HA!"

Silence.

Then, the teacher: "Well, thank you for coming, Mr. John. We sure did learn a lot about America from you today.")

End of "International Understanding Day."