Mercifully I do not have another dream, or as I like to call them "an omen of impending doom".
Maybe that means that today will be a good day.
I get up early, put some eye drops in my crusty conjunctivitis filled eyes (now both of them), put my glasses on that will make me look so hideous that no one will dare look at me, and then, cook myself a breakfast of Kellogg's Corn Flakes and chocolate milk.
I call it cooking because I heated up the chocolate milk in my convection oven/microwave before pouring it over my cereal.
I bag up my two remaining goldfish and take them with me to Wakakusa Chu Gakko (Wakakusa Junior High School) where I present them to the mentally-challenged classroom as a gift. I had purchased a few goldfish previously and given it to the class - and the kids all seem to like the fact that the goldfish I buy aren't the cheap common kind but are the gossamer, expensive kind. They gather around the aquarium and ohh and ahh as the fish swim around happily.
I don't get it. These fish never moved when they were in my aquarium. It's not like I am a rank amateur around goldfish and tropical fish. I've had both for over 20 years. in fact, I had one goldfish live for 14 years, growing from one-inch in length to well over 10-inches, simply by moving her into larger aquariums.
But these damn Japanese goldfish... they always seem depressed when they enter my apartment. Could my place be a nexus of depression? It would explain so much.
I wrote a pair of comic books on my goldfish experience that you are all welcome to read HERE and HERE AGAIN.
I hand out some more baseball cards to Omori-kun, one of the kids in this class who loves baseball. He bows deeply, smiles when he comes up and wipes his snotty nose on his sleeve. Thank god Japan bows rather than shakes hands when giving thanks.
In one of the regular classes, a Peruvian girl whose parents moved to Japan last year comes over and presents me with presents - Japanese language books for me to study. Bloody amazing.
See... this is what the world is supposed to be like. Pay it forward. You do something nice for the world and the world does something nice for you.
Karma.
It's a pity my Karma ran over my dogma months ago.
The headaches I've been getting from wearing my glasses (not as strong as they should be - but I'm either cheap or don't have the money to get new lenses - your choice) have diminished to a dull roar. Of course, perhaps the headaches were from me being hit by a car twice in a month last year. (Shut up! That's not the reason! Yes it is! No it isn't!)
During a break in the teaching (apparently I do do that every once in a while), I pull out an old wallet of mine, grab a pair of scissors and attempt to make an eye patch for myself.
Despite the conjunctovitus, I still have an irritating scratch on my eye. Yeah... the eye doctor mentioned that yesterday... I forgot to include it in the blog.
It's my goal to create a make-shift eye-patch until I can get a real one. Tomura-sensei (the had English teacher here) is going to need some severe convincing if I'm to get him to let me go to the eye doctor and thus skip out of work or better yet get him to drive me there.
I'm not very convincing. Dammit! What's going on?! When I arrived here in Japan 16 months ago, people were falling all over themselves to do stuff for me - even stuff I didn't want them to do!
Now, it's like the Japanese are onto the lazy ass antics of North Americans! Everyone knows the Japanese never take time off when they are sick! Dammitt! They are correct, of course, about North American shiftless behavior - just not this time!
Oh well, I suppose that despite my useless attempt at creating my own eye patch, I could just wait until next Monday when I visit Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko (Kaneda North Junior High School). They have a school nurse.
I was going to ask the nurse here at Wakakusa, but she's been absent all week. Sick, I heard.
After school I ride over to the eye doctor and take a look at their eye patches. Pretty gay, boy. Seriously. The patches they have there are not very fashionable. If I'm going to wear an eyepatch, I'd rather look good than feel good.
Back home, Ashley comes over and helps me create an eye patch and then helps make the attachment out of a purple hairband she bought for me.
She says I look like a thug.
I then try on the eye-patch.
No wait, flip those previous two sentences.
A thug? Moi? Awesome! But a fashionable thug!
We watch some television. I try to drink a glass of Coke and pour it down my shirt. Damn lack of depth perception!
Matthew (who lives a few minutes away from me) comes over with a visiting Jeff Seaman (who is a California guy now living in Oyama-shi, I think) and the four of us go out for dinner. This is the first time all four of us have hung out since we first arrived here in Japan! Matt, Jeff and I were powering drinks down back then, oblivious to the permanently cute girl keeping up with us beside me. That's probably why I was surprised when she and I started making out at a dance club a few hours later.
Ahhh.... the good old days.
The four of us go to Matsuri for dinner and then to the 4C for drinks. Ash and I leave at midnight and head back to my place.
I don't expect any action tonight given how icky I look, and that is reinforced about 30 minutes later.
She and I were sitting around talking and I thought having a good time when all of a sudden she begins to cry.
I wonder what the hell I am saying that would make her cry?!
I guess we speak a different language from one another. It sounds the same but it means different things to men and women.
We soon make-up and go to bed. I have no idea what I am apologizing for, but it works.
Somewhere my dogma is rover and out,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Culture Club. I always hated this group, as I prefer my music a lot edgier, but what the heck, the title is apt.
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