In Japan, being "American small" was a relative advantage. I was somehow considered a size large there (somewhat of an ego boost), and most things fit me very well and looked damn good. Hot damn. This was true for pretty much everything except hats.

According to Japanese people, they have huge faces. What this really means is that they have huge heads. Now before you get riled thinking I'm saying something racially unkind, ask a Japanese person about it. Besides, I have pictures to prove it. Anyway, in Japan my head is like the head of a pin. It's miniscule.* It made for a painful time when shopping amongst the many fashionable choices of headgear.

I'd thought I would have escaped the phenomenon when returning to the States. Sadly, it's simply not true; I still have a tiny head. Normal men's hats engulf my head like pacman eating one of those little dots, and of course I can't wear women's hats, which tend to the pink and pastel side of things. I've resorted to children's hats, which are universally crappy in build quality and also hard to find in colors other than "very bright" and "related to cartoons and movie merchandising."

It's a tough life.

*Ironically enough, in Japan the statement "you have such a small face/head" is perceived as a compliment, much as "you have such a big nose" is. They're a part of the ideal beauty as represented by white people. As you can imagine, me with my child-sized head and king-sized nose, I was a frickin' god. Or at least, so the story should have been.

I bought a phone that instead is no better than the one I bought four years ago in Japan.

As far as phones go, it's all right. It makes calls, it receives calls, it gives a company an excuse to totally rip me off. I have to say that after a few days of playing with it, it's nice enough, but only last night did I discover its greatest flaw: It has no strap loop.

A "strap" is a little phone accessory that is wildly popular in Japan. For the first couple of years in Japan I'd held out on buying one because I thought they were pointless and distracting. Then I realized that there was an incredible variety of cool stuff specifically made for dangling from a phone. Fast forward to January 2008 when I last spent time in Japan, and you'd see me buying up every cool one I could find in anticipation of the long dry period ahead in which I'd be forced to live in the States.

Fast forward again, and you'll find me discovering that the phone I'd just bought doesn't have a space (in the form of a little hole/loop in the shell of the phone) for a strap to fit. I was, as you can imagine, devastated. So devastated, in fact, that I have considered exchanging the phone for another model.

It sounds idiotic I know, but sometimes it's the small things that keep you afloat. I really wanted to use those things!

I got a job.

Of course, I'm pretty sure anyone who reads this page already knows this, but whatever.

It's hardly the glamorous or career-path employment I had been hoping for; in fact it's very well embedded in the "well, it's a job..." category. It means for 9 hours of work every day I get a (quite meager) paycheck and a (very meager) sense of having a place in the world. I guess these days with the economy in flames, it can't hurt to have a job, no matter how boring or pointless.

But I digress. What having a job also means to me is that I have a slightly more elevated sense of purpose in life, a condition that hopefully will lead to a more regular set of updates for this poor neglected weblog.

It also doesn't hurt that I'm working at a Japanese organization, which for you, my loyal reader, means continued anecdotes about Japan. I promise they'll be interesting ones.

But I have a not-so-secret weapon.

I have been "lucky" enough to have lived through much, much worse. You see Gyoda, where I lived in Japan for three years, borders Kumagaya, which is widely known as the hottest city in Japan. By virtue of the fact that the two towns are right next to each other, this also makes Gyoda the hottest town in Japan. Don't believe me? Look it up, though you'll probably have to do it in Japanese.

But anyway, it is hot there. While I was there it regularly reached ninety-five during the day, usually with ninety percent humidity. The summer I left, it actually reached one hundred and seven (point six!) degrees, again with that same lovely humidity. Phoenix ain't got nuthin'.

"Oppressive" doesn't begin to describe the air in Gyoda. Walk outside, and you're hit smack in the face with a brick wall of heat and humidity. You haven't sweat until you've spent a summer there, I can tell you. Literally the moment you walk out of the sweetly air-conditioned train, your shirt is soaked. Add to that the fact that you're using a bike to get anywhere, along with the fact that your apartment's air conditioner is broken (and will be for three years), and it's a surefire way to get heatstroke. I'm pretty sure I had it every day there.

So now when I sit in the relatively balmy New England heat, I just remember that I've been through worse. This is nothing!

But somehow when I tell that to people, they don't quite appreciate it...

Lately I have made small inroads into "greening" my parents' lifestyle. Why not also take a stab at their grass-butchering routine? On paper, it's a very good idea; conventional gas mowers are loud, smelly, inefficient beasts, and our particular mower's blades are so dull that it tends to bend grass rather than cut. Oldschool push-style mowers are quiet, emissions-free, and would give me a workout pushing them around. I could even listen to some tunes while I mowed. Just me and the outdoors, and no combustion engine to get in the way. To me, there should really be no question as to which option is better. So it couldn't hurt to dust off one of their two (two!) push mowers just to see what it would be like, right?

It was a backbreaking, sweaty, horribly misguided, and short-lived experiment. At the beginning the thing cut with aplomb, tossing clippings behind it in a satisfying arc. I smiled when it happened, but I hadn't yet realized that I was cutting very thin grass near the driveway . Then I got into the thick of things, and it got hairy very quickly. On anything but the absolute sparsest of weeds, the thing would choke up and become a very heavy plow, digging itself into the lawn where it should have been cutting. By the time I'd "mowed" about two meters worth of lawn space, I had stopped probably five times to see if there was a buildup of grass or a stick that might be obstructing the spinning blades. No such luck; this thing just sucked. Adjusting the cut-height seemed like a good idea, but did nothing noticeably useful. So I gave up, cursing and stumbling as I dragged the hunk of useless metal back to the garage to get the gas mower.

I can see why people tend to deride the old push mower. What a terrible experience! I think that there's probably a reason that these relics were left to gather dust in the garage, beyond the simple answer that gas mowers are slightly easier. Perhaps they are broken or very dull. Perhaps some magical new technological wonderfulness has been poured into the newfangled ones (which look exactly the same) that virtually all of the neighbors use. Certainly, this lawn isn't going to get a carbon-neutral mowing with our current options.

Chalk it up as a work in progress.

The idea behind the event is that each team receives a standard solar car kit about the size of a radio controlled car or a toy car. I've gathered that beyond some basic guidelines and restrictions, teams may then customize to their content. Their cars are raced against each other in the main "speed" category, but there are also other categories like technical ingenuity or creativity. Certainly, there was a wide variety of interesting and cute car designs, as you can see in the photo gallery below.

It was an interesting event to take part in, and encouraging to see kids trying their hardest in a subject which is probably considered quite geeky. I hope that the current "greening" trend continues to gain public interest and support!

Picture gallery here:

I made a recording of frog noises back during rainy season in Gyoda, but never got around to posting it. It's a noise that I find strangely compelling. Perhaps, along with the sound of squealing cicadas and the smell of damp tatami, it serves as a reminder of Japanese days past.

That recording you may find here: Gyoda Frogs

Contrast it with a recording I just made a few days ago in Massachusetts. These frogs are much bigger than their rice field compatriots, making them much easier to see. Don't let recording levels fool you; they actually manage to be quieter than the frogs in Japan.

Enjoy the natural ambiance here: Massachusetts Frogs Recording

Now if only I can get close enough for an adequate recording of the rather-elusive "peeper frogs."

UPDATE: I got a recording of the peepers! Oh joy, right?
Check them out: Massachusetts Peepers Recording

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, am I gay, no, blah blah blah. Right.

The whole tone of the interview, along with the little giggles and reactions from everyone involved, gave it a distinctly abstract feeling. I couldn't imagine that this was a real interview, and maybe it was just some elaborate joke on the gaijin (foreigner). Where were the TV cameras? Thinking back, I can definitely see this kind of thing happening on some comedy/variety show in Japan. However, had it actually been a television show, at least I would've had a moment of fame! No such luck.

The president meandered through another "normal" section of the interview, his segues between questions like "Are you gay?" and "tell me about your design skills" executed with masterful straight-facedness. Then he came to what I still consider "the winner" of the interview.

He asked me (of course in Japanese): "Do you like to do 裸族 in your apartment?"

He'd used a word I'd never heard before. "Excuse me, do I do what?"

"すっぽんぽん."

Ah, this was a word with which I was familiar. Roughly translated, it means "butt naked." Wait. Do I go butt naked in my apartment?! Naturally, I was utterly shocked into answering completely honestly. "Well, uh...I...my town is the hottest town in Japan, so sometimes it does get awfully hot..." Everyone laughed. But what possibly could that sort of question have to do with my ability to properly do my job? You can imagine this wasn't the first time I had second thoughts about exactly what kind of job I might be doing.

The interview itself wrapped up not long afterwards. It was explained to me that in the line of work that they do, it is relatively common to be dealing with gay men and selfish women, as they have dealings with celebrity and artistic types. Go figure. It helped explain part of the interview, but certainly I was still left wondering why it mattered if I liked to get naked in my apartment.

The president brought the interview to a close and brought me around the rather small and very cluttered office. He announced me to the staff who were still working at 10PM (virtually everyone), including the fact that I was currently girlfriendless, looking actively, and love Japanese women. Never mind the fact that it wasn't necessarily true, everyone seemed to take it in stride. He then proceeded to introduce me to all of the single women in the office. First off was a woman who'd studied in the States and therefore knew a bit of English. He told her to introduce herself to me in English. I've changed the name, but this is exactly how she introduced herself:

"Hello, my name is Mayuko. I lived in the States for a few years. I've divorced three times!"

Upon which I promptly replied, "Oh...nice to meet you! Your English is excellent." What else to say, really?

I met two other single women in much the same manner, minus the divorce and English. The last one had such a fake smile during the exchange, it was kind of painful and not a little uncomfortable. The president told us to exchange business cards, so we could "get to know each other" or something. But...I'm not even working at the company, and nor do we even like each other...so why would I want to do this? We obliged of course, no doubt both thinking similar thoughts: "yeah right." He was, after all, her boss and my potential boss.

I remember thinking as we walked back out into the oppressive humidity that there was no way I'd take the job.

Three weeks later, I took the job. Go figure!

Through the good graces of a coworker at my school, I had managed to secure an interview at a small advertising and marketing firm in the heart of cool: 表参道 (Omotesandou) in Tokyo. On a rainy and sweltering evening in June myself and my coworker decked ourselves out in full suits and took the train down to Tokyo.

Let me give you a short background on interviewing in Japan. There, if you are lucky enough to have a connection who gets you an interview, you actually go to the interview with that person. At the interview, your person (a sponsor, really) will give a spiel about you for a little while, and then the interview will turn over to you, where you will give a little prepared speech about yourself and why you want to work at the company. This explains why I, my contact, and his contact all ended up in a very small meeting room with uncomfortable plastic seats.

I came into the interview knowing it was going to be different. I had been told that we would be meeting with both the company president and vice president, something that doesn't happen often in Japan. Usually, you see, you meet with an underling. In any case, as we sat waiting, all three of us in our full suits, I'm sure we all felt a tad jealous of the VP who had just come in looking a little dumpy in his khaki slacks and a polo shirt. The real moment of truth, however, was when the president himself walked in. His white t-shirt had some outrageous print on it, and his jeans (jeans!!) were ripped quite liberally. His hair was spiked. Oh, this was definitely going to be a different sort of interview.

Things progressed smoothly enough. First my coworker's contact gave his little speech about me, then my coworker did the same. I couldn't help but think about how great this was. Here I was at an interview, and it had already lasted a half hour without me saying a word! One could only hope that it would only contin-

"So," the president said, turning his puffy sleep-deprived eyes to me, "do you by chance play rugby or practice boxing?"

Knowing that many companies in Japan sponsor rugby teams, I thought maybe he was asking about my interest in sports. I practice neither, so I volunteered what I do practice: "No, but I do practice Tae Kwon Do..."

"Ah!" He sat back with the look of a mystery solved. "So that's why your nose and teeth are crooked!"

Now, I'm pretty sure a comment like that would end an interview in the States, perhaps with the interviewee walking huffily from the room. I, however, was astounded into silence. My two sponsors laughed a little, so I figured maybe this was some sort of icebreaking strategy. I never thought that icebreaking by way of pointing out physical flaws was particularly effective, but there are innumerable differences between my opinions and Japanese society as a whole.

Believe it or not, the interview continued in much the same fashion. The president did most of the talking and asked me most of the questions, concentrating for short stretches on relevant topics such as my skills, my interests, my love of Japan, my love of the women...what?

Among other things, he asked me if I had a girlfriend (American interview no-no #1). I told him no, we had broken up not long ago. He expressed that after the interview he would introduce me to the single women in the office. He asked me if I liked Japanese women, and being that his manner and questions were so shockingly direct, I couldn't think of anything to do but to answer. It happened time and time again, and every time I was a deer in headlights, unable to do anything but answer honestly. I tell you, giving well-considered, strategic, perfect answers is entirely out of the question in this sort of situation.

After we got out of the way that I loved Japanese women and was desperate for a new girlfriend, (What? Even I wasn't aware of that...) we moved on to more mundane job-talk. Not for long, though, I assure you. There was a short pause before he switched tack again.

"Do you like selfish women?"

Again, being that I had hopelessly lost all ability to answer cunningly, I pondered for a moment my dating history. "Well, it would seem that I do..."

"Are you gay?"

"Um, no..." Didn't I just say I liked women?

"Do you like gays?"

"Well, I have a few gay friends, so yes."

Satisfied, he returned once again to talk of the mundane. A little breather, no doubt, before the next wave of shock and awe. Stay tuned for Part Two, in which we explore the nuances of discussing nudity, as well as the interview's aftermath!

Being rather terrified of heights, I can imagine very few ways to have dinner that are less appealing.

Dinner in the Sky

I've made two tables, unofficially dubbed "river" and "tree" due to the color patterns. They're actually not the easiest things to photograph with a digital camera; there is so much pink and red in the wood that the whole photo tends to get tinted pink or orange. In trying to compensate for that hue, photo-editing software tends to wash out the colors of the photo. The result is such that the darker parts of the wood are a bit pinker in reality, and the lighter parts of the wood are a bit more white. I may be an amateur designer, but I'm no photographer!

I do love the color and grain of the Square-2 design, but I must admit that Square-1 was easier to work on; Black paint covers almost any mistake!

Anyway, legend has it (according to two Japanese people I know, so obviously it must be true what I say) that Tanuki are notoriously crafty. Certainly, Japanese folk tales featuring Tanuki do tend to accentuate the naughty things they do. Western raccoons are fairly naughty in real life, so I can see why Tanuki might be translated the way they are.

But I digress. The real reason I'm posting is to talk about Tanuki balls. I remember the first time I noticed them. I was standing outside a restaurant and noticed a statue of this weird owl/bear looking creature. I asked what it was, and I was told it was a Tanuki. I also asked why he had enormous testicles. Accordingly, I was told that his balls represented his enormous luck, and any restaurant that has a Tanuki statue was rewarded with good luck. So if you're ever in Japan, you'll see a lot of these guys around. You might even see some in the States.

Tanuki balls represent good luck with money (or so I've been told). It's interesting to note that very long hanging earlobes also represent good luck, I believe also with money. As such, you see a lot of Buddha/Hotei statues with very very long earlobes. I suppose we may further assume that hanging body parts in general provide good luck.

In any case, here is the result, dubbed "Square-1" and first in a series. It's the very first of its type and pretty much a prototype, but I gave it as a gift and it is serving quite well in its capacity as a coffee table. Have a look:

Bad as radio is, I spend hours with my finger on the "seek" button trying to find a decent song. I tend to average about one per twenty minutes of constant seeking. It passes the time and isn't as sleep-inducing as the hum of the tires on the road.

In Boston, there is a fairly decent selection of stations from which to choose: rock, hip-hop, classical, pop, and fringe indie stuff. I noticed on my way back to Western MA from Boston yesterday that as I progressed further into the country, the more and more the main choice of music was country. By the time I was still a half an hour from my home, the overall number of stations had dwindled from over twenty to less than ten, of which five were playing solid voice-twangin' boo-hooin' crapass country music.

Really gives you an idea of the kind of place I live in.