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Suicide, escape, or just an accident? Tuesday October 24
Yesterday, I had a brilliant day out with Yuiko. We took her golden retriever, Puffy (hey, I didn't name her!), to the park. We had some food, chilled out, and Yuiko helped me study for the upcoming Japanese proficiency test. It was a nice afternoon, but alas it started to drizzle. All three of us headed home as fast as we could; Puffy jogged next to the bicycle which I was pedalling. Yuiko rode on the cargo rack -- which she claims can usually get you a US$150 fine if you get caught by the police. I think she thinks too much about that kind of stuff. Sure, the police can legally give you that fine, but who does? They'd just say "stop it", at the very worst.
I mean, that's like a cop actually handing out a fine for jaywalking. Like that's ever happened.
After getting to Yuiko's place and putting Puffy back inside, Yuiko drove us to Chiba to visit Kara, who is now working at Ito-Yokado, the supermarket. In true "Japanese company" form, Kara has to work at the actual supermarket for two months before she can begin her real job in the head office of this company. Her real job is going to be regarding imports/exports, but for some reason she has to learn how to work at the service counter of the store, validating parking ticket receipts first.
This is Japan. I have a friend of a friend who works for JR, the national railway company. In the future he wants to be an accountant in the company or something, but to get to that point, you have to work your way up. He had to start as a ticket-checker. Now, his job is to drive the bullet train between Osaka and Tokyo, which I think is cool enough. He actually said it's not as cool as it sounds. The whole thing is computerized, so you just more-or-less just ensure smooth operation.
Yes, I know someone who drives the bullet train. You can stop being jealous now.
Anyway. After the supermarket, whereat Yuiko and I bought sushi to take home for dinner, we returned back and I met Yuiko's mom for the first time. I'm usually pretty good with parents, so smooth sailing there. I brought out the Japanese study book again and asked some questions that Yuiko wasn't able to answer (grammar no one uses except people over 30, but for some reason, I have to know it).
All of the pictures from all of this are posted.
I wanted to leave at 8:00pm so I could get home by 9:15pm, and go to bed. I wake up at 6:00am on Monday morning, so sleep is very important Sunday night. I had such a good time chatting, though, that I lost track of time. It got to be 8:45pm, and so Yuiko drove me to Kanamachi (her station) to go back to Yoyogi-koen (my station, forty minutes away, but on the same train line).
When we got to the station, though, she stopped short of the drop-off area and noted to me:
"Look at the train up there. It's not all the way down the platform, and it's not moving,"
"Huh,"
"And the lights in it are out," she added.
It was at this point that the ambulance and fire truck in front of the station became obvious to us.
"Did the train break down, I wonder?"
"Weird. I'll go check it out," I said, getting out of the van.
When I approached the station, though, I found that is was not that the train had broken down. It had stopped because there was an accident. Returning to the car, I reported this to Yuiko, and told her it seemed like they were going to start up again soon, so I was just going to wait. I went back to the ticket gate, and right as I was doing so, many of the firemen were coming down the escalator.
A sign indicating the delayOne of them had a large tarp, and he was holding it up in a way as if to block the large group of people waiting for the trains to start back up. It occurred to me at this point was he was doing: blocking the view of the other firemen, who were clearly carrying a stretcher to the ambulance. They didn't do a very good job of covering up, but as soon as I knew what they were doing, I looked away. The last thing I needed was a bad image in my head.
Someone had gotten hit by the train.
There was nothing left to do but go home, and the trains were about to start running again, so I bought my ticket and rode the escalator up to the platform. I sent Yuiko an e-mail to let her know that I had made it, and that I'd get home not too delayed.
The top of the escalator came out on the platform right in front of where the train was still stopped, lights out. Workmen were doing various things to make sure they could start the train again safely. "Like a bad accident", part of me wanted to look at the front of the train, and at the tracks. But I didn't; I turned towards the other direction and walked to the second car back, waiting.
After about five minutes, the conductor and the official-looking people finished talking, the conductor got on, the train lit up, and then he blew the horn. It was deep, and slow. The train then lurched forward suddenly, and proceeded slowly about 50 meters to its normal stopping place on the platform.
The doors slid open, and the 100 or so of us that had been waiting got on. 100 people in a train of 12 cars doesn't really take up much space, and everyone sat, about ten to a car. No one really said anything. The train departed, amidst the conductor's repeated annoucements on the PA telling us they were so sorry to make us wait.
I just knew that that person had died, and I must say that riding in the train that had killed the person was a very, very strange feeling. Amplified by the silence of the passengers, no one doing anything. Amplified by the noise of the tracks, and the normal noise of the engine that we usually all tune out without a thought.
After one station, they announced that the train would cease operation at the next station, and we'd all have to move across the platform to another train. Which I was absolutely fine with.
When I finally made it home at 10:45p, it was pouring rain, and I didn't have an umbrella. I hailed a cab.
Waking up this morning, I checked was I was already sure of: a 67-year-old man had fallen in front of the train at 8:39pm last night, and he was run over and killed. I sent a link for the story to Yuiko. I told her it was a good thing I didn't end up leaving her place on time. Death is all around us, that may be for sure. But if I had been twenty minutes earlier, I would have witnessed it. I am grateful that I did not. I don't need that image to haunt me.
Suicide, accident, escape. Who knows. Suicide is common, mostly due to people who have money problems. Due to Japanese law though, if you owe a lot of money and kill yourself, that doesn't save your family. Hopefully that man died alone, if that was it.
My thoughts are with the people who may have been on the platform next to him. I could have been one of them, and I know I don't need the emotional stress of witnessing such an event.
The Jack of All Trades Thursday October 12
I have used the phrase "jack-of-all-trades" since high school to describe myself. When I want to sound a little bit humbler, I would say "amateur of everything, master of nothing". Either way you put it, the fundamental meaning is the same: I have tried out many, many things, and just about when I start to get proficient at them, I switch gears and move on.
I like a challenge, and thus I suppose it is my challenge to find a challenge that can engage me for years on end. Possibly I should call that a "career". Just when I was getting used to Web Development, I switched to sales. I'm still new to it, but it seems like I'm doing well with it, and I enjoy it. A lot to learn.
Luckily, Japanese never gets easier, and the "pinnacle" doesn't really exist, so I can just continue to challenge myself. I can never become native, but I am incensed with the idea that I can someday, without hesitation, say whatever I want. Of course, even if I am able to do that, I won't be able to say whatever I want, because this is Japanese, and well, you're really an unnatural speaker if you speak your mind too openly. As a side note, this statement should not be taken to mean that Japanese people don't say what they mean. They do, just more subtlely than Americans do, and culturally they are more perceptive on certain cues that indicate what things really mean. This in turn facilitates the same function as just saying what you mean directly (assuming everyone is playing the same "game"; thus why foreigners are an interesting addition to the mix in Japan), so I don't think it is fair to say that Japanese people do not say what they mean.
Anyway. Back to the point.
The point is that a Web development position has opened up in my company. We're seeking new people, but the IT Director has told me a few times, "well, we're looking for someone with your skills,". That's quite a complement, and I cannot say that I wasn't tempted. Tempted in the same way I was tempted to stay at Foellinger for another year and just really build my management skills.
In my quest to learn so much about things I don't know about already, I end up just that: a master of nothing, but an amateur of everything. Although, knowing a little bit about everything helps you relate to people, which is good for sales. Maybe I have found a way to tie it all together after all? Maybe I am just my dad, one generation younger?
Thinking before you speak always helps Saturday October 7
Last night, my friend Takashi invited me to a goukon, an interesting Japanese invention where a male friend and a female friend assemble equal numbers of people, and then you get everyone together. It is, in short, a mixer.
Despite having a girlfriend, Takashi requested that I participate to give the evening an "international" flair; one of the girls there was Taiwanese (i.e., non-native Japanese), and I guess that was part of the the gig. It's just a fun way to meet people, and despite the even numbers of men and women, there's no particular reason that one cannot participate despite being involved. Plus, I cleared it ahead of time, so.
The venue was the famed, yet underground, bar in Naka-meguro Emily at IUC used to talk about. This self-proclaimed "ping-pong lounge" is really an apartment, but it appears as if they gutted the walls between rooms, added lighting, and turned it into a gigantic living room (with a ping pong table in the center). To top it all off, since the front looks like an apartment, you have to ring a chime to get in, and they more-or-less "verify" your identity. I am still not sure whether this place is licensed or not, so maybe I shouldn't even be writing about it.
Nonetheless, we had some great food, and I learned some new words.
And then I had a little too much red wine. Now, I'm not saying I got really drunk. That's not it at all. But when I drink red wine, I start to talk. More than I already do. The Taiwanese girl made the mistake of asking me about my thoughts on something, or rather, maybe she didn't, but I wanted to say something, and I found myself making a five minute monologue on why I think the existence of "nation states" in the modern world works against peace.
I don't think the idea is ridiculous at all; I would love to discuss the point, actually, with anyone who wants to take me up on it. The issue was that I was speaking in Japanese, and I was speaking at an event where everyone was having fun, talking about light subjects, and being quite relaxed. I was out of my element.
Sure, I wasn't worked up in a bad way; it's not like I was angry at anything. But after five minutes, I realized there was no good way to resolve my monologue. I, myself, didn't know exactly what I wanted to say. I was just talking. The two other people at the time were kind enough to listen, but it then bothered me for the rest of the night that I had spoken so outwardly without having a resolved point.
Thinking before you speak always helps, especially in a foreign language.
