A blog about adventures, academia, adoption and other things starting with the letter 'A'. I'm a geek, a metal head, a shiba inu wrangler and a vegetarian, and I write about all of the above. You have been warned!
A few years ago I was having dinner with some Tokyoites who were here braving the inaka. One young woman commented that there wasn't much enhanced reality around here. I had no idea what she was talking about, so she showed me her phone. As she held it up a moved the camera around, little text bubbles popped up. People who had previously inhabited the same space had left messages~ "order the chicken, it's great!" and "my boyfriend of five years just dumped me then left me with the bill for our meal." They were like messages from ghosts almost, echoes of moments past. In Tokyo, she explained, there would be so many notes the screen would be completely filled with them, and photographs too.
Niconico, a video sharing community, allows a similar "virtual shared experience" by showing users' comments scrolling across the screen. According to Know Your Meme:
Nico Nico Douga was the first website introduce a way to embed tags and comments directly into the videos, allowing comments on 2channel and the YouTube clip to be displayed simultaneously. The feature enabled video posts on Nico Nico Douga with a sense of a shared watching experience.
In the more popular videos, so many comments have been posted that the original video is entirely obscured, and one has to turn off the comments in order to see it. I recently had a look at the English language option, incidentally, and predictably but disappointingly the first English comment that popped up on the video I watched was "gaaaaaaay". Way to go, Anglophones :/
Anyway, the reason I am writing about this today is that there was a Niconico convention last weekend, attended by over 100,000 people and viewed via live stream by seventy-five times than number. As one would expect of Niconico, the convention was all about blending the real and the virtual. Attendees carried long strips of paper with phrases such as lol (笑）to hold up in a 3D version of scrolling comments, and stood in front of green-screens to see themselves on a screen interacting with virtual characters like Hatsune Miku (who owes much of her original development and ongoing popularity to the creative community of Niconico).
The sumo match pictured above was a highlight of the conference. As the match was fought, a large screen behind the ring projected an enhanced version with special effects added live, including a display of HP and the Street Fighter/ Dragon Ball Z style light effects you can see in the image. The event was called, interestingly, "real sumo". Realer than real.
Many thanks to Helen of Inn by the Sea for giving me a kick back into blogging with the "five days challenge". The idea is to post five photos, one per day for five days, and to write a story or poem to go with each photo. For each day that we post we are supposed to invite one person to participate.
I'm inviting Mrs Epic of Epic Domestic to join in. Mrs Epic, if you would like to participate, post a photo every day for five days and write a story to go along with each photo. Your story can be fiction or non-fiction. It can be a short paragraph, a page, or a poem. Each post, please select one person to carry on the challenge. It's just for fun, there's no pressure to join in ;)
One of my undergraduate students, during a class discussion in which I had talked about the fringe nature of anime fandom when I was a student, opened his statement with "I don't know what things were like back then, but..."
Back then.
Back in your day.
Days of yore.
I'm 30 years old guys. 30. I know it seems old when you're 20, but does it really deserve a "back then"? f(^_^;
Some time last year I was at the university discussing my upcoming employment. Since I wasn't actually employed at the time, I didn't have a library access card, but a friend snuck me in with a sneaky swipe of his. Unreasonably afraid of being discovered, I climbed the tiny back stairs instead of going through the main entrance. The staircase was so small I doubt my man's shoulders could have squeezed into the narrow space. The staircase opened into an area I'm used to calling the stacks... books so rarely requested that they are stored out of the way in a less accessible part of the library. The room was dark, with motion sensor lights flicking on slowly row by row as I tip-toed, enjoying the silence after an intense few months of stay-at-home parenting a child who needs constant noise to feel safe. The still air was filled with that special musty smell of old books. I may have cried, a little. There are a few places guaranteed to make me feel at ease: mountains, rivers and libraries. Nowhere really compares to a proper university library, though.
When I was ten, my father started his PhD and he, my younger sister and I lived on and off in an ex-ambulance parked near the university library. Dad fitted out the ambulance with bunk beds, and we showered at the university swimming pool. We had movie nights in the AV section of the library, where the selection of films was geared towards screen studies, meaning that although we weren't allowed to watch Sesame Street, we saw Thelma & Louise
and Thelma & Louise. In the day time we lived in the library while dad was studying. We took dolls and built multi-story doll-houses on empty book shelves. We found the children's literature section and read all of it. The library was massive and one day we explored too far and got lost. After walking for what felt like hours Verity started crying and refused to go any further. I piggy-backed her, desperately trying to remember the Dewey Decimal codes near our starting point. Eventually we found a water fountain in a study hall and ran to it like desert explorers finding an oasis. I finally remembered the title of a book I'd seem near dad's desk, entered it into the catalog and despite no experience using a computer, we figured out the location. When we got back, triumphant at the trials and tribulations we had over come, dad hadn't even noticed we'd been gone. Universities in general, and libraries in particular, have been under my skin ever since.
Of all the emails I've had as a result of this blog, my favorite is from Vincent the librarian, who emailed me with a book recommendation. Because that is the magical power of librarians, guardians of the promised land. They reach out and tell you what you were looking for even before you know it yourself. Or, as he said: "I'm a librarian. It's what I do. Then walk off into the sunset." Thank you Vincent! One day I'll get around to writing about the book, Yokohama Yankee: My Family's Five Generations as Outsiders in Japan by Leslie Helm. It's a great read.
This post contains Amazon affiliate links. That
means if you click and then buy the item I get a small commission. It
does not mean that I am being paid to promote a particular product or
opinion. I will only include affiliate links that are directly related
to the subject of a post. If you want to know why I have begun including
affiliate links you can read about it here.
This meme has been so all over the place I couldn't figure out who to credit it to... if you know, please share!
I've lost 13% of my body weight in the past four months. I've been wanting to look after my health better for a while, and I decided to stop putting it off. The weight-loss was a consequence of a healthier lifestyle, not the goal. Yesterday Tiger forgot something important, so I brought it to school for him and on the way bumped into Ms Smiles (who sadly isn't his teacher this year). "You've lost so much weight" she commented, "are you OK? Is it stress?"
This makes me happier than a number on a scale
Even though I sat down to write about this conversation I am struggling to find words to express how happy her comment made me. She didn't give a casual "looking good" or congratulate me on the "achievement". She knows how hard things have been, and she wanted to check I was fine. There is nothing inherently better about being thinner, and skinny does not equal happy.
Lovely man + puppy is, however, a reliable formula for happiness
The lightest I have ever weighed as an adult was the unhappiest year of my life. I was too stressed to feel hungry. I survived on coffee and lived almost entirely online. My life away from the computer was unbearably painful, and eating meant shopping and cooking and disconnecting my dial-up. When the man and I first moved in together we both put on huge amounts of weight. We had both been unhappy for a long time, and together created a happy domesticated existence that involved a lot of nights in with cheesy pasta-bakes and Stargate SG1. It wasn't great for our health, but man did that weight gain signify a change for the better in my overall quality of life! So although this time, losing weight has been a positive thing, I was so happy to hear someone make a comment that did not assume thinner = better.
Here is a random video of Hayate as a puppy trying to get his reflection to play with him. I was going to try and make it sound profound, but really, it's just another puppy video.
Reason #2 for the long time between photos is that my older sister came to visit so we have been busy hanging out with monkeys, ninja and playing in the snow.
Love Japan's sunny winters
We were chased by this ninja, but Tiger defeated him
A very long time ago, I was an exchange student in Nagoya. The night before a test, my neighbor had a big party, and through the paper-thin walls there wasn't much I didn't hear. I went over and asked them to keep it down. Then again. Then again with some yelling. The next morning I headed out to take my test and found my front door vandalized, the key-card slot jammed full of coins and generally a mess that I couldn't even close properly. After the test I went to student admin to report the damage and I used the word いじめ, bullying. "Don't be silly", the staff member said, "you're a nice person. It can't be bullying."
Because bullying only happens to people who have done something to deserve it.
I understood immediately what she meant, because around the same time I had watched a TV show featuring a young man who had been bullied as a child for being fat. He had grown up to be a personal trainer and he was dedicating his life to combating bullying... by running free fitness programs to help overweight kids lose weight.
On setsubun Tiger was home sick, so we watched the pre-school kids' shows. One featured an oni (ogre) who was lonely but couldn't make friends because everyone was scared of him. The solution the show offered? Put a hat on to cover his horns, swap his club for a bunch of flowers and change his name to onii-san (big brother) not oni-san. "But", said the oni, "without horns I'm not an oni at all, and if I change my name I wont feel like myself." The response? "You want to make friends, don't you?"
The theme of Ursula Le Guin's Tehanu: The Last Book of Earthsea I found most intriguing is the victim-blaming. Therru is horribly disfigured after being gang-raped and thrown into a fire. The book notes that when people see her scarred face the first thing they ask is "what did she do?" and not "what was done to her?" Not surprisingly, this observation is absent from the Studio Ghibli film ゲド戦記, despite Therru being a prominent character (she is also considerably less disfigured in the film than in the novel).
When I told my co-workers about our intention to adopt, and began telling them how high the numbers of kids in orphanages are, one teacher chimed in with "and some of them are probably good kids, too." During our interviews we were asked if we would agree to parent a child born out of wedlock, the child of someone with a criminal record, or a child resulting from rape. I assume those are the not-good kids. They should have chosen better parents.
Not a great picture, I snapped it in a hurry on the way up and cameras were banned inside. Still, you get the idea.
Man-person and I really needed a night off, and a friend very kindly baby-sat for us. It's the first time since Tiger came that we've been able to be alone together and we wanted to do something that might remind us of who we used to be before life revolved around Doraemon and Kamen Rider. So we headed out to Beppu to check outPhantomBar & Decadent Territory (AKA the heavy metal bar). The first thing we saw when we opened the door was a collection of severed limb Halloween decorations, followed very quickly by a sea of dresses. We'd managed to turn up during what they called a gothic event, but was actually more EGL (predominantly brolitas and wa-lolis). Hence the no camera thing.
We squeezed into a corner, made a bunch of new friends who very kindly cheered for our bad singing when the karaoke started, and generally felt more relaxed and welcome than I have for a very long time. That's the beautiful thing about subcultures; they transcend dominent-cultural differences. All we had to do was stand still long enough for the owner to check out the names on our tour-shirts and we were embraced with open arms. The bar-keep made the man-person agree to a duet but sadly our last train home was stupidly early and we had to run just before it came on. We'll definitely be back, next time we can wrangle baby-sitting, and next time I'll have some good pictures I promise! In the mean time, here is the song they didn't manage to sing.
PS There was an AKB48 poster in the toilet. That really made the place, to be honest.
Yes, that is a Battlestar Galactic uniform and yes, the seams aren't pressed. I only finished sewing it the morning of the wedding >.<
We've been married for five years today, but we've been living together for nine years and friends for seventeen, so it seems a little pointless to fixate on numbers. We spent our anniversary last year driving to another prefecture to get a psychological evaluation as part of our adoption application. We're spending this one begging someone (anyone!) to baby-sit so we can have some time off. Life moves faster than one thinks.
We rarely say "I love you". I like that. The words become overused and lose meaning~ "Can you buy milk Iloveyou?" I get that to some people constant repartition is comforting, but it isn't for me. I want it to mean something, to be said only when dripping with emotion and significance. When you know what your relationship means, you don't need everything to be said.
My husband bought new shampoo recently and I commented that I liked the smell.
"That's why I bought it," he said, "it reminded me of how your hair smelled when we lived on Churchill Avenue." We lived in that house in 2004. The shampoo I loved at the time went off the market that year and hasn't been seen since. He remembered the scent, although he never used it. Who needs "I love you"?
We were ruthless in cutting all mention of love from our wedding vows. I don't make promises I can't keep, and you can't promise to feel an emotion. I promise honesty, kindness, respect, and that I will be here 'til death do us part. If someone promised to love me forever, I'd back slowly from the room without making sudden movements. You can't make promises about how you'll feel, and if you think you can you are either delusional or lying.* I'll take the random email in the middle of a rough week that says "by the way, you are a great mum", the Sunday morning pancakes and the shampoo.
I'm not entirely without romance. At our wedding we had Dylan Thomas' "And Death Shall Have No Dominion" as a reading, and Toccata and Fugue in d minor on an antique organ played by a friend in return for a bottle of whiskey. That's pretty romantic for two one-time goths, right?
This is a random youtube video, not from our actual wedding...
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
Dylan Thomas
*After writing this I realised that it sounds pretty offensive to people not limited to but including Whitney Houston. I'm just talking about my own preferences and feelings guys, I promise I am not judging you for yours. Honestly :)
I had a pretty rough week last week. I'm sure I'll write an emo post about how terrible the world is shortly. But then, I was surprised by a lovely comment from an internet hero of mine, Brittney. Brittney blogs at http://pagesonadoption.wordpress.com about life with four children adopted "older" and from foster care. She doesn't shy away from writing about the hard times, and I love her for her honesty and her great humour and generosity of spirit. So obviously I was delighted to see that she has "passed on" a Liebster Award to me. The Liebster is kind of like a chain letter, designed for small blogs to connect to one another. It's a really sweet idea, and I am insanely happy that Brittney thought of me.
Now, the thing about the award is that you pass it on... and I read a really eclectic mix of blogs on widely divergent topics. My list is going to be a little random, but I hope you all enjoy linking up as much as I have. With no further ado and in no particular order, here are the bloggers I'm passing the "Liebster baton" to. Let's send the love to myriad corners of the world, and embrace it as it returns.
Here are the Liebster Rules:
1. List 11 facts about yourself.
2. Answer the 11 questions given to you.
3. Create 11 new questions for the bloggers you nominate for the award.
4. Choose 11 bloggers with 200 or less followers to nominate <-- I have no idea how many followers you all have, so I just went with blogs with lower numbers of comments. I hope no one if offended ;)
5. Go to each bloggers page and let them know about the award.
6. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
How many drafts do you have waiting to be edited, finished, or posted? 13 on my computer, a few more in notebooks >.<
Would you rather ride the subway with Mahatma Gandhi or pull weeds with Kristin Wiig? Gandhi all the way. I'm fascinated by contradictory people. He did so much for equality and justice, yet espoused such harmful beliefs about women and sexuality. It would be an interesting conversation. Also, I don't like weeding.
What is your ideal birthday? Camping, preferably near a beach or good swimming river.
What do you do wish you would stop talking about and start doing? That's a long list... probably eating more nutritiously is the most urgent thing.
What children’s book describes the meaning of life best in your eyes? The Lost Thing by Shaun Tan
What’s your stance on gun control? Haha. Just kidding. Is your house decorated the way you want it? No, it really really isn't. When we first moved here we couldn't really afford curtains. I just bought the least offensive ones I could find in the discount bin, so none of them match. We have three different designs in one room! But now that we have curtains, it seems frivolous to buy more curtains just so that they match...
Clear the air about misconceptions you think people have about you. People think that I am a bossy perfectionist who spends a lot of time being angry about how stupid much of humanity is. In fact, I am a bossy perfectionist who spends a lot of time being angry about how stupid much of humanity is AND I really like long walks.
Will you link this to a video of you singing happy birthday to my
daughter? Her birthday is in one month. Bonus points for doing a
birthday jig. I don't think the world deserves to have my singing inflicted on it... but give me a bit of time and I will try to film a jig for her ;)
If a hawk landed on your house, would you look up the symbolism of hawks? No, I would double-check the whereabouts of my smaller dog. She looks a lot like a piglet. I'm pretty sure hawks think she looks delicious.
Who is your favorite fictional character? Why? Can I have fifty? No? Two? OK then, but I am limiting it to books because otherwise I couldn't choose ;) Hermione Granger, because. Ender from Ender's Game, because [SPOILERS] he is the only human who can destroy the aliens we are at war with, but also the only human who sees the aliens as beings with value.
What is the most important thing you read online this week? Links please!
Which country that you have never visited do you most want to go to?
What is the worst movie you have ever seen?
What song do you listen to when you are most in need of a pick-me-up?
What children’s book describes the meaning of life best in your eyes? Ahh, you noticed that wasn't a new question, huh? Glad that you are paying attention. I still want to ask it anyway, because I think it is a fantastic question!
Can you name a movie adaptation that was better than the book?
What obscure piece of trivia are you most impressed with yourself for knowing?
What if your favourite vegetarian recipe? Again, links or post in full please ;)
What was your very first pet's name?
What is your "guilty pleasure" TV show?
Tell me about a book that changed how you see the world.
11 Facts about Me:
I left this for last because I'm not really terribly interesting, but hey.
When I was a child I lived in an ex-ambulance with my dad and my little sister for around a year. We drove all around Australia so dad could interview home educating families for his PhD. I never let my sister ride in the front seat. Ever.
Despite this horrible treatment, my little sister got me the autograph of Eric from Subway to Sally.
I wrote a thesis on Gundam, and was awarded first class honours for it.
If it were up to me, I would have a minimum of six children.
When I was younger and thought the I would be giving birth to my children, I planned to have a daughter named Ælfwynn. I know, I know, she is from a royal line famous for repelling the Vikings and my heritage is more Norse than Saxon. Whatever. It's a pretty name.
I am 99% sure that our children are actually going to turn out to come to us named Tiger and Cocoa (those are the readings, not the meanings: They are actually spelled 大翔 and 心愛 respectively).
I first met my husband when I was 12, and we got married when I was 24, so I had known him for exactly half my life.
I hand made a Battlestar Galactica uniform for my husband to wear for our wedding.
The first novel I ever read, aged around five, was The Queen of the Pharisees' Children by Barbara Willard. It's about the forced removal and separation of a group of siblings from their 'gypsy' (Ramani) parents after they are arrested for vagrancy. It affected me profoundly.
You can't tell, but the wheel of the Jeep is spinning...
Our first experience with a love hotel came about as a
result of a poorly planned trip during peak season. After an excruciatingly
long time on public transport and very little sleep in the proceeding few days
we found ourselves wandering through the outer fringes of Nagoya desperately
looking for a neon sign advertising “Crayon Coloured Dreams” or “Coconut Palms”
or some other similarly love-hotel-esque name (this was before I got a smart
phone). We eventually found a dank looking place beside the train line that was
probably supposed to look like a fantasy style castle or European chalet.
Expecting something vaguely medieval themed we ventured inside. The reception
was fully automated, with a selection panel with pictures of rooms to choose
from. Instead of medieval the theme seemed to be bridal. Mannequins wearing
white wedding dresses filled the lobby and hallways, entombed in glass cases. Their
hands were primly folded in lace gloves but, perhaps in order to prevent any
idea of “accusing eyes” for those visiting the hotel with someone other than
their spouse, all the mannequins were headless. In the dimly lit and hushed
space without really knowing what we were supposed to do or how anything
worked, the atmosphere was intensely creepy. We pressed one of the pictures on
the panel and a series of green lights lit up down a corridor. We followed,
pretending to be characters from Ender’s Game, and came to our designated room.
The room itself had no mannequins, thankfully.
Image from this blog, attributed without links or details to AFP/Getty Images/Daylife/Diez Minutos/Daily Mail/Reuters
The trouble was, we had just selected a room, not said how
much time we wanted. We weren’t sure what to do. After a shower we thought we
might go down to the lobby and try the interphone, but when we tried to leave
our room the door was locked from the outside. Then we freaked out. Was it
locked because our time was up and we were supposed to be out? Would someone
else come it, push the same button and unlock the door, walking in on us in the
night? We spent a less than restful night jumping out of our skins at every
loud noise. Being so close to the train tracks there were plenty of loud noises,
of course, so we didn’t get much sleep. We found out later that the doors
always lock until you indicate your intention to leave. I assume they have a
failsafe for emergencies, but it was scary (especially with the headless brides
outside). We couldn’t figure out how to pay using the automated system the next
morning, and eventually got a rather flustered and grumpy man to accept cash
through a small barred window in the lobby. After all the stories we had heard
about Japan’s wacky, amazing love hotels with their waterslides and Hello Kitty
décor it was a big let-down. We had no plans to repeat the rather traumatising
experience.
It’s my mother’s fault we ended up going to the bondage hotel.
Really. Almost a year after the horrible Nagoya experience, we visited Kyoto
with my parents during Obon. We rented a very nice and affordable little apartment/room,
with space for the four of us to sleep Japanese style on the tatami. Having not
shared a room with my parents for quite some time, I had not realised how big a
problem this was going to be. My mother, through no fault of her own, has the
most incredible snore. It isn’t just that it is loud; it is also irregular.
Sometimes she won’t make a sound for four or five minutes, then suddenly a snore
so deep it rattles the windows explodes out. It’s extraordinary. After a couple
of hours I whispered to my husband “want to get out of here?” and we snuck
outside. The thing that makes a Japanese summer so unbearable is the humidity,
and unfortunately that doesn’t diminish at night. We thought we might try an
internet café or a love hotel, but we were in what seemed to be a business district
with nothing of the sort to be found. We thought we would try a park bench, but
they were all occupied (we hadn’t seen many homeless people by day, but you seea very different scene at night). We spent as long as we could in the blessed
air-conditioning of convenience stores, and eventually went back to the room
around 5 am. My parents told us to get some sleep and went out for breakfast on
their own, so we got an hour or two in, but the sleeping arraignments clearly
weren’t going to work. We asked at a couple of hotels but everywhere was full
up. It was the day of the okuribi festival, and town was packed. There was
nothing. It had to be a love hotel. After the festival finished I called a
friend who went to university in Kyoto and asked her what neighbourhood to head
to. We made some mistakes with buses and directions and didn’t end up finding a
hotel until close to 1 am.
Sleep-deprived husband failing to appreciate Kyoto
What a difference from the anonymous, seedy, creepy place in
Nagoya! This love hotel was tucked behind a temple. An old lady in a pink headscarf
was mopping the lobby floor, chatting and laughing with a couple in their
fifties who were choosing a room from the display. The three of them turned to
us with a cheery “Ha-ro!” when we entered. Feeling almost as freaked out by the
neighbourhood association atmosphere as we had been by the headless brides, we
hastened to select a room. The prices were steep. We didn’t even look at the
pictures; we just chose the only one we had enough money for. We understood why
it was so expensive when we got to the room (suite). It was huge, with gorgeous
décor reminiscent of Sakuran. We were feeling pretty good under we headed into
the bedroom section and noticed the flogging frame… and the wrist and ankle
cuffs on the bed. Thanks Mum!
Anyway, having become reasonably proficient in the ways of
the RabuHo, we felt we were ready for Jurassic Park.
No copyright infringement, see? It's Jzauuruss, and that's a crocodile not a t-rex. Totally unrelated to any movie.
It was supposed to be a birthday treat, and the website promised a bottle of wine and ice-cream as complementary birthday gifts. In
preparation we watched Jurassic Park the night before (I’d never seen it).
Feeling inspired by the film, I even pulled together a Laura Dern inspired
outfit for our trip. The first question was, cage room or mummy room?
Image from http://www.skyclub.co.jp/jzauruss/index.html
Closely
followed by, why is there a mummy room?!
Image from http://www.skyclub.co.jp/jzauruss/index.html
We settled on cage room (since the velociraptors
were obviously the best thing about the movie) and headed out to Beppu. The
exterior was promising. Maybe even amazing.
When we neared the doors lights began flashing. The door
opened with that sci-fi hIIISSSssss.
The lobby was dark except for a red hazard
light. We were in a narrow space between caging, with a crashed jeep and foliage
visible through the wire. There were ominous rustling noises and I was afraid
something was going to jump out, haunted-house style.
Image from http://www.skyclub.co.jp/jzauruss/index.html
I’m very very bad with
haunted houses. We edged over to the selection panel and… there was a sign
taped to it stating that special prices were in place for golden week. Special,
3x the usual price prices. We couldn’t afford it. So we had to turn around and
head home again. Damn having a birthday in the middle of consecutive public
holidays!
But we’ll be back Jurassic Park. We’ll be back. Probably at night, when you look even cooler.
Image from http://www.skyclub.co.jp/jzauruss/index.html
If you are interested in reading more about love hotels, there are some books available on the topic. I haven't read either of these so I am not personally endorsing them, but they look interesting.
These are Amazon affiliate links. That means if you click them
then buy the book I get a small commission. It does not mean that I am
being paid to promote a particular product or opinion. I will only
include affiliate links that are directly related to the subject of a
post. If you want to know why I have begun including affiliate links you can read about it here.
The expression “it takes a village to raise a child” is popular Japan, and its relevance clearly evident at the graduation
ceremonies for elementary and junior high schools. Friday’s JHS graduation
ceremony was attended not only by teachers and family members, but by a whole
host of people who contributed to raising the kids we are sending out into the
world. The principals from the elementary schools they attended came to
congratulate them. Representatives from the local community halls and youth
centres came. The elderly people who volunteer to stand out in the freezing
cold every morning to attempt to protect the children from cars as they walk to
school attended. A representative from the local police box was there. Vice
Principals from the high schools a majority of our students go to were there.
Some of last year’s graduates came in their high school uniforms to
congratulate their kohai. Messages sent from those unable to attend in person
lined the walls, including the Superintendent of the Board of Education and
sports clubs from other schools that our clubs had engaged in rivalry with over
the past three years.
The evening before the ceremony the second graders decorated
the third grade classrooms with paper flowers, bunting, ribbons and thank-you
messages. Each graduating class was led into the hall at the start of the
ceremony by a second grade representative. The second graders made a speech
thanking the third graders and promising to protect the traditions they were
inheriting as the new school seniors, then first and second graders sang a song
for the third graders. The third graders in turn thanked the second graders, as
well as everyone else, and sang their own song. This symbolic handing over of
the school I something I love. Although the kohai-sempai system certainly
contributes to bullying issues, the strength of the relationships formed
between senior and junior students is phenomenal and beautiful when it works
they way it is supposed to.
I get asked a lot at this time of year what graduation
ceremonies are like in Australia. It might differ from state to state, but Tasmania just doesn’t have them. According to my friends who went to school, the last day of classes is the last day of
school, then you leave. That’s it. You get your high school certificate in the
post. Even my first university graduation was anti-climactic. Richard Flanagan gave a great speech, but the rest was pretty rubbish. We walked across the
stage, got our diplomas, flipped the tassels on our caps to the other side then
had lamingtons and very very cheap champagne in the uni café. I didn’t know
anyone who was graduating in the same ceremony well, and once the lamingtons
ran out I went home and baked a lasagne for myself. A few hours later my mum
called and said “We probably should have taken you out for dinner or something,
shouldn’t we? Want us to drive back into town and take you somewhere?” I’d
already eaten, so I said no, and just spent the evening playing Warcraft III by
myself. I’m pretty happy being alone most of the time, honestly, but sometimes
it would be nice to have a village.
and 
Posts
