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I can wait to be old Thursday November 30
Today I was not particularly a great day. It wasn't a bad day, but I have been stuck in a little bit of a rut this week at work; I feel that I am being stretched in nineteen orthogonal directions. This isn't that bad - I am used to dealing with a lot of information from all over the place -- but simply there are only so many hours in the day, and the lack of pure concentration time is affecting my ability to be proactive, as opposed to simply reactive. In my position, that is not desirable.
It's not my intention to talk about work, though. I spend approximately 11 hours a day thinking about work as it were; if I begin to make my blog about work-related affairs, I'll just become a moron whose life is their job, and I'd begin to lose touch with the values, ideas, and dreams that propel me to work in the first place.
I actually jotted down some notes during lunchtime yesterday about this phenomenon: so many people simply spend so much time working that they don't have time to enjoy anything else. Call me anti-establishment, but if you (even partially) remove yourself from the consumption cycle (work > paycheck > spending > no money > more work), it actually becomes quite easy to enjoy, well, everything. Like old people.
In my less-than-perfect mood, I boarded the Ginza line to go home. A seat opened up at Shinbashi, and I took it. At Toranomon, an old man got on. The bench I was sitting on was the priority seating, which is clearly marked and reserved for the elderly, expecting mothers, physically disabled, and so on. Well, for the group-think someone-else-will-do-it mentality prevailed, and no one made any effort to give this easily 80-year-old-plus man a seat. At the next stop (admittedly, I could have stood earlier, but the train does curve a lot), I got up and gave him my seat.
I don't expect a medal; these are the rules. It's written on the window of the train car. I don't care if I've had the worse day of my life; it's far easier for me to stand than an 80-year-old man. I currently enjoy my youth. I try to never take it for granted.
We both rode the train for four more stops to its terminal at Shibuya. I was buried in my headphones, and had more-or-less forgotten about the incident. Everyone began to get out when the doors opened, and I turned to leave, waiting on the passengers in front of me to get out first.
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned back to the seat to see the man, now standing. He smiled, and in a very gentle voice said "thank you". I was a little embarassed, and said "you're welcome" before scurrying off. But I couldn't stop smiling.
It just felt really good to make that man smile. At 80 years old, I looked at him and saw my whole life in front of me. Hopefully, someday, I will be his age. And hopefully, at that age, someone will be kind to me, and I will thank them, and for that moment, we will yet again have faith in our fellow man: these are the moments that keep me going. For as much as we want to believe we are in our own worlds, our work, our families, our cars, and our lifestyles, we are but a large population of self-deceiving and deceived beings who have convinced ourselves that this thing or that thing is really more important than him or her.
Sure, if you can't eat, you may not agree -- but as my man Franklin said, you have to have some moderation.
» Tags Groupthink Moody Elderly Consumption Moderation
The whole world, scheming against me Sunday November 26
This morning I had a meeting scheduled for 11:30am at Kichijoji, which is about 30 minutes from my apartment.
At 11:30am this morning, though, I was just sitting down with a book to study for next week's Japanese language proficiency test. I had completely forgotten about the arrangement; I had failed to set a reminder task in our proprietary work software. This is my fault.
My phone rang at 11:42am, and the candidate was wondering why I wasn't there. I had a short freak-out moment, followed by a score of apologies, followed by a "do you still have time to meet in 30 minutes?" He said he would wait.
I had already showered (as of course, I would have made it to the meeting in plenty of time had I only remembered), and so I threw on something semi-presentable, and ran down to the station, looking up the train schedule on my phone at the time. There was a train at 11:50am and noon, it said. I wasn't going to make the 11:50am, so there was actually no need to rush.
Or was there?
I walked into the bakery at about 11:54am to buy breakfast so I wouldn't go to a meeting for coffee on an empty stomach. I have six minutes, and the station is right there, I thought. Mistake number one. Breakfast in hand, I walk over to the station, buy a ticket, and enter to find that the train doors have just shut. It is 11:58am. There is a conductor standing there, so I asked him why the train came early. He said that it didn't -- it was on schedule; he proceeded to show me the schedule as the train rolled out of the station. The next train would be in ten minutes.
The schedule on my phone was wrong. There was no way for me to know that, but if I hadn't insisted on breakfast, I would have made it. Mind you, at the best case scenario I was already going to be 45 minutes late (and arrive at 12:15pm).
There are actually two stations right next to each other in my neighborhood. One is part of the subway, and the other is part of a private train company. They meet up one station down the way, above ground, and one can transfer. I thought that maybe I could run to the subway quickly and "catch up" to the train I had just missed.
When I ran down towards the platform (which is two stories underground, no small feat), the train doors were just shutting. I wasn't going to make it there, either.
I ran up to Yamate-doori and looked for a cab. I had to transfer at Shimo-kitazawa, which actually, in terms of distance, is not that far from where I was. A quick five-minute cab right should "catch me up". Sure, 6 bucks is 6 bucks, but the guy was waiting!
My cab driver's name was not only "Miss Daisy", but he made a wrong turn and took me to the wrong station, taking an extra 2-3 minutes. Eventually, ten minutes later, we arrive at Shimo-kitazawa. I bolt into the station (underpaying the cabbie because he went the wrong way, but he was apologetic and accepted), run up the stairs, and run down to the platform.
The doors of the express had just shut.
Another express wouldn't come for 20 minutes. If I took the local, I'd get there first; the local takes 20 minutes.
So there I arrived, 12:44pm, when the original appointment was for 11:30am. And by some miracle of it all, the candidate was still waiting. I had called him from the taxi to explain where I was and that I should be there... uhm, in no time.
He had somewhere to be at 1:15pm, so we had a very short meeting. To make matters worse, while in line at the coffeeshop, he said, "I was out all night; I barely made it up to make it on time. I really didn't want to get out of bed this morning."
I was so frustrated at the world for not going "my way" that I went straight out after the meeting and bought a new rug for my room. I've needed a rug for under my computer chair for a long time now.
Thanksgiving morning Thursday November 23
Last year, I was going to do something for Thanksgiving. There was talk of trying to find a turkey somewhere in Tokyo, or even just settling with making mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. Somewhere between getting sick for most of November last year, school, and the darkening afternoons, I just put it off until the day had already passed, and then it naturally became another good idea conceived, but never executed.
This year, what is traditionally Thanksgiving in the United States (namely, the third Thursday of November) happens to fall on an otherwise Japanese holiday, so I am enjoying the day off today. Of course, tomorrow will be work again, so there's no Black Friday or related affair here. After moving, I have a much larger, and more well-equipped kitchen now, but there is still no oven to speak of.
Turkey is, as far as I can tell, out of my sights again this year. I looked online at a couple of restaurants and hotels that cater to homely types like myself: a good dinner runs at least $40 a head. Considering I'd be escorting a certain lady along, I'm searching to discover whether or not a half-hearted attempt at feeling like I am home is worth $100.
I'd much rather be making deviled eggs, green bean casserole, and mashed potatoes here. But that doesn't seem very likely either, so we'll see.
Everyone together in the same boat: all alone Monday November 6
On days that I don't eat lunch as part of my job (i.e., with a candidate, discussing a job or an interview), I try as much as possible to bring a lunch to work with me. We're not allowed to eat lunch at our desk, and there's no microwave (for a reason), so that leaves me to things that can be eaten at room temperature.
Half-cooked egg with spinach and rice, cooked salmon and rice, pasta and spaghetti sauce leftovers, and so on. These are the normal things that dominate. They are easy to make, taste good, and I don't get sick of them.
Last week, though, I found some really nice looking tomatoes at the supermarket in Kanagawa. I don't usually buy tomatoes in Japan; they're expensive, and man, they're just tomatoes. Someday I'll go off on my tangent about Japanese fruits and their absurdity. So I had to buy these tomatoes, which were sitting conveniently next to nice heads of lettuce, also cheap.
Now, when you see lettuce and tomato together, I know you think the same thing I do: where is the bacon?
Today, I test-drove a new lunch idea: the saran-wrapped BLT sandwich. And it was everything I thought it would be: filling, healthy (kind of), and tasty. I liked it so much that I packed another one for tomorrow, and I plan on repeating this process until I run out of tomatoes, lettuce, or bacon. I may consider a cheese, lettuce, and bacon sandwich, as the tomatoes are running low.
I ate my new sandwich idea outside the building across the street; the weather was permitting and cool. A sandwich takes me about five minutes to devour, so this left me with about fifty minutes to kill. Coincidentally, I just received my registration card for the Japanese language proficiency test. I know that I need to study. So I went to the coffeeshop down the road to hit the books.
There are four coffeeshop chains near my work: (1) Renoir, which according to my girlfriend is no more than a yakuza front, (2) Starbucks, which charged me for the water I requested to accompany the scone that I legitimately bought last week, (3) Doutor, which offers the least portion for the most price, and (4) Cafe Veloce, and Italian-themed cafe that has the smoke to prove its authenticity.
I never go to Renoir. Yakuza front or not, the chairs are made for Japanese people. Tiny ones.
I have considered going back to Starbucks to complain to the manager about getting charged (130 yen, so $1) for water last week. Then I realized that would mean stepping foot in there ever again, and reconsidered.
I go to Doutor with coworkers because they like it, but I really think that the portions are small and it's expensive. I'm also cheap.
Cafe Veloce has the world's worst coffee. It is so over-roasted and steeped so dark that it's quite bitter. They go for that whole "Italian" thing, but fail at actually making good coffee. However, it's cheap, and more importantly, you can take a cup of it back to work, add half (literally half) a mug of hot water and have two normal cups of coffee. For the cheapest price in town. That's a deal. And face it, we all know it's not about the coffee. It's about the caffeine. It used to be about the coffee, but no one makes a good macchiato here.
So, I needed a table inside Veloce to study. But it was lunchtime, so every table was occupied, and myself and Random Salary Man were waiting for a table to open up. I was looking around for myself, but there was also a store employee searching out, wiping off, and indicating empty tables to the waiting customers.
Out of about 35 tables, most of them were filled by one person, despite the presence of two seats.
I turned to the employee who was showing people seats. She gave me this "I know you're still waiting after five minutes and I'm sorry so please just be patient and we will have a seat for you soon" look, expecting my displeasure at the wait. Instead I said this to her:
"After I get a seat, if there's someone waiting, I don't mind. Just bring them over and they can sit with me."
She acknowledged what I said, but I knew that no one was going to take me up on that. Tomorrow, I'm going to go in and break the rules. I think I'm just going to approach people until I find someone who doesn't mind me sitting across from them at the same table. It's not a sit-down-and-order type of place, so I should be able to get away with this.
Hopefully, someone will see me, and it will help drive home a point: why is it in a metropolis of thirty plus million people everyone would rather be living in their own separate worlds, shut away from the "noise" around them, as opposed to logically yielding a seat no one is using to someone who needs it. Everyone probably thinks that it'd be OK -- everyone's just too afraid to reach out and just talk to people.
It's one of the things that makes me sad about Tokyo. I see everyone all together, being alone.
