A Million Vacations

It's Sunday, December 22, 1991, and unlike today in 2012, I am in a good mood. Too much went according to plan - and it wasn't my plan.

I've been in good moods and bad moods while living in Japan.

The only thing that puts me in a bad mood are women. Actually, I don't know if that is correct. It's not a bad mood... it's  a sad mood.

I've just left behind Ashley, who has gone home for the holidays - and she managed to piss me off while doing so.

And while I do get angry, I find that I actually am sad that things aren't working out, and pray to whatever gods there are out there who might be listening to please don't let my life be this way. (2012 Andrew: It is).

But, in 1991, despite women problems, I am ever the optimist, knowing that that glass is half-full. Screw 2012 Andrew and his reversal of fortune. With any luck, I'll be dead by the time it hits 2012.

The 1991 Andrew may be optimistic, but he's also a dick.

I'm a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the Japan Exchange & Teaching (JET) Programme. I arrived in Japan in late July of 1990, and have now been living here in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan for about 17 months now.   

I'm heading to Singapore with my good friend and fellow AET James Jimmy Jive Dalton. I actually call him James.

James is perhaps the funniest, nuttiest person I have ever met. He always has a smile on his face. He's always helpful and kind towards others. He wants to be liked and does his best to ensure that it is happening. He is considerate of other people's feelings. He's a taller, more slender and whiter version of me.
It's how I know he is covering up for a bunch of insecurities a mile deep.

Why would I say something as stupid as that?

Simple. Despite his bravado, physical comedic genius, charm and wit, and decent looks... he's actually quite shy.

He's like I used to be. He obviously likes women... but he's afraid of rejection...
And... because misery loves company... when I am around James... I become a darker version of him. (Darker, not like a Darth Vader-thing. I mean because I have brown skin).

So... the two ass clowns of Tochigi-ken's JET participants are going to Singapore. We already know that we will have a good time, but we won't do anything crazy. Unless, like in Thailand, I find two women that want to screw each other as much as they want to screw me. Since it happened before, it could happen again, right?

Play the video below and read on while it plays in the background!

James and I leave his home-town of Mamada, taking the slow train down to Ueno-eki (Ueno station) in Tokyo and then hop a train to Narita Airport in Chiba-ken (Chiba Prefecture).

We meet mutual AET buddy Tim down there - and we all chat a bit before parting.

Our flight is at 6PM. As we go to sign in, about 10-minutes before take-off, I do not have a seat.

Apparently I got bumped.

But a few moments later, myself and somewhat hefty lady and I bitched and bitched and bitched to the airline... and it worked.

You have to try, eh. You never know what will happen if you don't at least try.  

As it turns out, the two squeaky wheels sat beside each other on the airplane. She was very nice. Her name was pat and she was a writer. Figures. I guess all of us writers have a big mouth and attitudes to match.

She and her friend Karen were going the same route as James and I... but I'm sure they had their own agenda, and I am not one to force myself upon them, unless they really would like us to accompany them - besides... James is asleep and I'm not making a decision without talking to my traveling buddy.

Pat wrote freelance for some vacation magazines. That's so cool. I wish I could do that, but I doubt I have a style any magazine would ever want. She and Karen seem to have traveled everywhere.

The flight is somewhat enjoyable, and I don't suffer any inner ear pain as I did when I first arrived in Japan from Canada or when I traveled from Thailand with my mom back to Japan.

As boring as this all seems to be... I'm going to leave off right here. I'll finish the rest of this tomorrow.

How interesting this is to 2012 Andrew. Here he was presented the concept of being a travel writer back in 1991, and he thought he wasn't good enough to do it. In 2012, not only am a magazine writer in my day job, but I've written comic books, television scripts (someone buy them!) for shows my friend Deb and I have fleshed out, and I've even written a play (wordless) that was performed in Japan, and write this blog, a second one detailing things that I hate, and even a third one that is a survival guide for men (which I'm sure you can see down to the right under "blogs I follow"). And yet... I was either too afraid to try and be a writer, or simply lacked self-confidence in myself.

All pretty strange considering I seem so full of myself when it comes to getting laid. You have to remember... less than 17 months ago, I was a virgin living at home in the basement of my parent's house watching re-runs of Star Trek. I may have some confidence, but confidence can be a fragile thing... easy enough to lose when one feels rejected... which is what I feel right now.

Ashley, Junko... and many more... do I push people away?

And that's probably why James and I are friends. Two ass clowns that enjoy making people laugh and feel good, but have a difficult time actually feeling it themselves.

Screw that. Maybe James and I will have some decent adventures on this trip. You know we will. This is me, afterall.

I'm a weirdness magnet.

At least, even when things screw up or don't go my way, it's never a dull adventure.

Somewhere full of angst,
Andrew Joseph         
In the telephone card up above, that's James Dalton on the left, mutual buddy Colin McKay in the middle, and yours truly Andrew Joseph. James is from Stoney Creek, Ont., Colin from Calgary, Alberta, and I'm from Toronto. Apparently we are pointing to each other as in: I'm with stupid. I'm outnumbered 2-1. Dammit. As well, apparently in the photo, I am growing my hair - it's in a ponytail - but it's still not quite long enough in the front. Aw... those awkward teenaged years when you are 27.
Today's blog title is by iconic Canadian rocker Kim Mitchell. He still rocks on, but also does a day gig as the afternoon DJ on Q107 radio station.  

No Fun

It’s Saturday, December 21, 1991. I’m alone in bed for what feels like the first time in months. It feels good. It feel strange. I don’t like it.

Since I arrived here in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan back in the summer of 1991 nearly 17 months ago, I’ve been lucky with women.

It’s the complete opposite of what things were like for me before back in Toronto, but then again, I’ve kind of re-invented myself over the past few years from a shy, nerdy kid to a shy nerdy kid who is pretending to be an extrovert.

I think I’ve fooled everyone but myself. Or... maybe I have grown since arriving here. Maybe I am more confident. One can actually start to believe one’s own lies until it becomes the new reality. Maybe I am more extroverted – not completely of course.

I still like my secrets.

Now in 2012, I recall my mother telling me back in 1990 before I left for Japan that it’s good to be open with everyone, but it is still important to keep some secrets – secrets that you might share with some people, but not everyone. It seems strange to recall those words of my mother now passed from this mortal coil nearly 18 years ago... especially as I do my own tell-all via this blog. Man, I miss her.

It’s true you know. Boys/men would like to find a woman like their mother. Mine was charming, pretty, smart, and above all funny. I’ve been told I’m a masculine version of that... but I’m not smart enough to believe it.

Back to 1991.

The phone rings at 9:30AM. I’m racing out of bed, for some reason, to answer it. I already know who it is. It’s Ashley.

She’s at the train station and is heading back to Georgia to see her parents. Matthew has already left for Binghampton, NY earlier.

Everyone has gone or is going home for Christmas.

I’m not.

Last year, Matthew & I spent Christmas and New Year’s here in Ohtawara. Not many AETs (assistant English teachers) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme tend to do that, as they use Japan as a stepping stone to go and visit other countries. Last year, Ashley went to Thailand. I was supposed to go, but we had a massive fight. I lost., as usual, and stayed in Japan.

Ashley has called to apologize for her behavior last night, saying she should have let me spend the night considering we were both freezing during the five minute bike ride from the train station to her place – and I had another 30 minute bike ride ahead of me to get back to Ohtawara.

Yeah... she should have let me stay – especially when I asked nicely. It was her birthday, and I guess she didn’t want me around. No big deal. It doesn’t matter that I bought her dinner and drinks when she was out with her friends. We aren’t a couple anymore.

By the way.... have you, as a man, ever watched how women are when it’s time for a bill to be paid? Cheap! Calculators come out to calculate the tip to the freaking yen. I don’t care. I know you aren’t supposed to tip here in Japan, but I do anyway. They can be insulted all they like, but aside from belching, providing a good tip is the best way to show that you appreciated the attention shown you by the serving staff.

Her apology doesn’t make me feel any better, as I have a tendency to never forget a slight, no matter how small. That’s my own tragic flaw in my character. God forgives. I don’t. Unless there’s a chance I could get laid, in which case, I just put the ‘slight’ away until I am done.

Hey. This blog is cheaper than a psychiatrist.

After she wishes me a Merry Christmas et al and says she will see me when she comes back, I pack up my own clothes and toiletries and ride back out to the train station.

I take a slow JR (Japan Rail) train down to Mamada – a small Podunk of a town and meet James Jimmy Jive Dalton.

We go out for some Japanese food – neither of us can cook real Japanese food – and then watch Scrooged on a video tape of his.

We both get the craps and pass out asleep at 11:30PM.

Even in his sleep, James keeps farting.

I can’t stop giggling at how ridiculous it is. Zzzzzzzzzz-braaaaaaap-zzzzzzzzz. The cacophony coming out of both ends of James last for 15 minutes before I turn over, let out something quiet but deadly and hope that I still have a live traveling companion tomorrow morning.

We’re going to Singapore.

Somewhere looking forward to having fun,
Andrew Joseph
Today’s blog title is by The Stooges, led by Iggy Stooge now know as Iggy Pop who reinvented himself as required. The Stooges are, to me, one of the earliest punk rock groups along with the MC5.