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Sunday, February 27, 2005

I have decided to dip my big toe into the white space that is BLOGGING. Upon removing my toe, I haven't shaken off the drippings of insanity, or inane b.s. that clutters up that cyberspace without realizing, that by creating my very own BLOG, I too, shall contribute to the sad horse race of retired equines that is internet freedom of expression. My conscious can only be clean by saying that I intend to keep this BLOG up and running only to update friends, family and randoms about life in Ojika, Japan and the ensuing adventures that are worthy enough of mentioning in the next 18 months. Not one day longer! And, seeing as how I am starting this lovely account of all feelings, emotions and egocentric ramblings by being as honest as I possibly can with you, my "readers", I must admit that I'm only holding onto the tiniest scrape of hope that the Pulitzer committee will (a.) discover my BLOG, (b.) drop their literary jowls at the sheer awesomeness of it (shouts of glee will spread like wild fire whilst they convene 'round the old oak table) and (c.) they shall don me with the honor of the Prize. It's only a little scrape of hope I'm holding onto though, so don't worry.

So, with that being said, and feeling that I have fairly warned you of the content of this e-journal and it's entirely haughty nature, I'll get started.

We are cruising through the end of winter, in the wake of Valentine's Day on this Sunday, February 27th and I've been thinking about love.

By this post V-day point, most of us have forgotten the sting of rejection, the disappointment of not being doted on enough, or the sheer exhaustion of loving extra hard and long for one 24 hour period. However, here in Japan, the air is still ripe with anticipation and jittery nerves wreaking of that one nagging question: will my crush love me, or love me not?

The tension is largely due to the fact that in Japan, Valentine's Day isn't one to exchange feelings of love and devotion, but is a day where women (make sure you're reading that correctly... not men) say "I love you" by doling out large sums of chocolate cakes, cookies and treats to their friends, family and co-workers.

Ladies give out something called giri-choco - obligation chocolate - to their girlfriends, co-workers and boys, who are nothing more than friends; not to be confused with boyfriends or, as most Japanese youth say, "lovers".

More important and significant than (often times hand made) giri-choco is "lover's chocolate". It's usually handed out to just one lucky Don Johnson. Eh... I mean, one Don Juan, and can cost anywhere from 30 to 50+ US Dollars. The Japanese chocolate companies weren't messing around when they imported this holiday.

The men that receive a box of extravagant chocolate are to reassure their lover of their devotion by presenting them with lavish gifts of ZaZa Gabore-like jewelry or something of the same ilk one month later. That day being March 14th - "White Day".

I have heard veteran ALTs lament the fact that, although the cost of giri-choco and lover's chocolate can be quite high, the men have it "worse" by being expected to fork over large sums of yen in order to buy some serious bling, bling to celebrate White Day. However, I'd like to take this moment to give a shout-out to the lovely single Japanese ladies and award them the official prize of "The Most Burdened" around this holiday. Let me tell you why.

Some brave souls, in true Sadie Hawkin's stride, give lover's chocolate to a potential partner in crime, not a present one. Lover's chocolate can be an indication to dudes that there's a lovely lady in their life that is interested in them in more of a Susanne Summer's from Three's Company kind of way than a Punky Brooster from the Punky Brooster Show kind of way. And, basically, it's another way for the Japanese to communicate without saying a damn word. The art of ishindenshin - sensing the atmospheres and understanding the meaning of the moment.

The worst part of this ritual, and predominantly why these young women get my sympathy, is because they have to wait one month for any kind of reply. March 14th rolls around and If Don Juan has the desire to start something, he returns his admiration with the obligation diamond tennis bracelet, or something just as expensive. And the men who don't have these desires? Well, they too return a gift, albeit a small one, in order to relive these women from wondering about their romantic fates. But, it doesn't change the fact that there's been one month of biting cuticles and rubbing feet under nighttime blankets while dreaming of their strapping Japanese stud. They must wait in that most anxious form and that's all there is to it.

We are presently in breath-holding status around these parts. Half way between V-day and W-day. Keep that in mind and let's shift our thoughts to love in the US....

I got a call this afternoon from a friend in the States. He's had a rough week and is suffering from a wound caused by cupid's arrow being pulled out of his heart with a nasty little jerk, and then being bludgeoned by it. Just one week prior to this phone call, he told me about this new person in his life... this love... and this happiness for the first time; and I was happy for him. It sounded good.

However, one thing bothered me. He wasn't giving himself into the idea of "Happily Ever After" without trepidation. Being up and down love's dusty road, exhausted from dodging the speeding semi-truck of trickery that we all try to avoid, he remained skeptical about his relationship. I am the never ending optimist - silly romantic - and I thought it was a shame he had to state his happiness in such a rational and pragmatic way. It is LOVE after all. Isn't it in the pure nature of love to turn you sideways silly and kick you around a bit before having you settle into addictive happiness? I'm whisked away by that idea - too much for my own good.

The overall chorus of his description of the budding relationship was, "I'm happy, but we'll see what happens..." As in any overly predictable slasher movie with a screaming Jami Lee Curtis, a mere twelve hours later, the toothless, smoking long-haul truck driver of trickery ran him down with a direct hit. He was informed, apparently, that he was "smothering." It was over, lickty split, just like that.

Break-ups out of blue usually leave you twitching on the ground in shell-shock a little bit longer than relationships that have ended at the culmination of years of bickering and sleeping with each other's friends. The surprise break-up leaves you wondering where things went wrong and why you hadn't been informed of the approaching end. You feel gullible.

As in my friend's case, I heard countless examples of thoughtful things that had been carried out on both of their parts with that giddy, romantic sound in his voice. I heard about how attracted they were to each other and the nights of cuddling while watching Jay Lenno. On more than one occasion, there were personal ice-cream deliveries. This sounded like a relationship I wanted. And it ended -- side-swiped my pal -- left him hunched over and breathing hard while cursing anything to do with love and romance.

Now, let's leave the "love-hard-and-fast" and "kick-you-down" breakups of the state-side images of irrational love and take another look at the mysteries of practical, pragmatic love in Japan....

The Biology teacher at my school this year is a 26 year old, recent graduate. She's had a boyfriend since her days at university and mentions him occasionally. In one particular conversation, where I was teasing her a little bit, I asked her if she loved her boyfriend. Not expecting her answer, it led our conversation down a more serious path. She responded by saying, "That's a difficult question." She went on to explain that she has deep respect for him and thinks he is a "good man." She said that if he asks her to marry him she probably will, but never once said that she loved him, let alone mentioned any personal ice cream deliveries or other niceties. She is just one example.

The Home Economics teacher at the HS has recently started dating one of her former High School classmates. She's just turned thirty years old and has mentioned to me on several occasions how she wants to start a family. When telling me about this new man in her life, the first thing she said was that they had talked about how they each wanted children and how serious he was. She didn't know how to respond when I asked her if she thought he was cute.

Don't get me wrong, I know it's important to discuss things like children and intentions, but I hurt a little bit when someone can talk about settling down without at the same time grin from a memory of the way their partner's hair looked mussed after they've just woken up, or swell with pride at remembering their embarrassing first conversation.

Even though I don't consider myself a traditionalist, I've always thought that when I marry someone I'd better damn well make sure I loved him first. In my mind, those two things go together like hand-rolled sushi and sweet, warm sake. It doesn't seem to in Japan. It seems that the most important thing is to find a man who will provide for a household and who holds good morals. Love isn't even in the equation, as many popular 1950's do-wop singers have swooned.

I've also been nosy enough to demand of my married Japanese friends and acquaintances the story of their courtship and marriage. I'm not sure if sometimes the culture deems it inappropriate for them to share their stories, or if the language barrier just gets in the way, but I never get any of the romantic details that would accompany the same story in the States. I hear, "We met in school. We lost touch. We met again in passing, and now we are married." Possibly, it's just that none of that romantic silliness exists. Maybe marriage is just a very planned event requiring certain variables, like if your potential partner for life is a moral human with attractive enough genetic characteristics. I don't intend to portray this a sad and depressing - sapping all the tantalizing twitterpatted side effects from love. Really, it's not bad; it's just different.

So, as I said, I've been thinking about love and heartbreak and don't know what to do with it. Without trying to, we've all personally and voyeuristically gathered lumps of experience concerning love. This hasn't stopped for me in Japan. I've been thinking a lot about my friend, and the many times we have all been stopped in our tracks with some undeserved abuse. I wonder if there's something to completely cutting out the silliness of love and to marry for long-term payoff and a practical kind of love. Just like Anna Nicole Smith did when she married her eighty-year-old-something, liver-spotted millionaire. Maybe it's better to be practical just like that.

Ah, but some of you clever devils might be saying to yourself, "wait a minute! Hold the phone! What about the subject that started this whole thing off - Valentine's Day? Why would these anti-romance fiends be fooling around with truffles and heart-shaped boxes if they were as calculated and proper as she has perceived them to be? "

Well, I guess the answer is that romance and love in Japan is being shaped. These changes are being imported to Japan in Valentine's Day celebrations and with western movies. My younger friends talk about finding their own version of Prince Charming (he just happens to be a foreign musician who's living in the after-life, but I guess he is charming) and what they won't settle for. So, possibly the old adage is true, even in this by-the-books culture, "Times are changing" and so is love. Japanese youth expect more romance from their partners and hold onto day dreams of weekends away at the onsen, or personal ice cream deliveries.

And, just as other cultures are encroaching on Japan, it's values and ideas have been encroaching on me. I think the Japanese idea of pairing up with good and high- holding values breed is something to be considered. I shall give up my former methods of dating roving, hoodlum, roof patchers from Texas and look for more solid stock. However, don't expect me to give up completely on being swept off of my feet. It's Just like doubles ice skating with a ferret for a partner, it's all about balance.

And THAT is the end of the story.

(Stealing that line from a Widow for One Year by John Irving. The line sounds final, but with so much left to think about that it's never really the end of the story. I luvvvv it.) Thanks for tuning into the first BLOG, and I'll do my best to rein it in in the future.