On Freedom

A few weeks ago, I read this speech by David Foster Wallace, and I felt today (the fourth of July, in the states - it's almost the fifth here) an appropriate time for a repost.

But if you've really learned how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, loud, slow, consumer-hell-type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars -- compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things. Not that that mystical stuff's necessarily true: The only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship... ... And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

everything's gonna be fine fine fine

The most common question I have heard from friends back home since being here (a month already!) is "How's the language barrier?" I've been here a month, and I've adjusted to some things, but I still can't understand 99% of what is said in Japanese, and I still can't (and probably won't ever) read much Kanji. I do know the symbol for "shaved ice" though.

Living in a culture where you don't know the language is an immensely humbling experience. I have to have help with everything I was able to do independently at home - the first time I withdrew money from the ATM, I had to get one of the Japanese people in the office to help me with the buttons because I couldn't read them. Even if I wanted to drive a car here, I probably wouldn't be able to because I cannot read half the road signs. Getting dinner is often a guessing game, and I am beyond grateful for picture menus. Several conversations have devolved into purely miming what I needed, which is slightly embarrassing.

I love the English language, but I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a linguist. I have a decent grasp on German, so it's not like I can't learn other languages...I'm just not very good at it. It takes a lot of work for me to get a grasp on basic sayings in a language and get them to stick in my head - I have to be told multiple times how to say something before I will actually be able to say it.

Today I walked down the hall to class practicing how to say "Good morning" in Japanese. Part of my hesitation in learning a new language is the fear that I'll bumble it and come out sounding like some sort of caveman: "Me go to mosquito Kokura?" Or that I'll say something completely unknown to them.

I've had the reverse happen several times in class already - if a student doesn't know how to pronounce a word in English, he'll do his best to say it, but often it comes out sounding nothing like the actual English word. Frequently this happens with English words that are pronounced in ways vastly different from their spelling. I imagine similar things will happen in Japanese, and it is hard to humble yourself to knowingly go into a situation where you don't know all the answers, where you've got a 99.9% possibility of screwing things up, into a culture where no means no and yes also means no (something strange with the way they structure their questions, a bit like the "do you mind" construction in English).

I have to rethink how I teach some things. In debate class today, I could tell in the middle of the lesson that I'd lost them entirely. I had to backpedal and go to a lesson from two weeks ago in order to catch them back up to speed. This was simply because I had talked too fast in English, and now had to explain myself over again. I have to be extremely patient, and extremely forgiving, and realize certain limitations. As much fun as it might be to discuss the Big Issues with my students, it's a little hard if they still don't know the word "corner" or "wrench."

I get to see a different part of the teaching spectrum, and it's one that is interesting, humbling, and I think will ultimately make me a better teacher. And a better learner - willing to take risks, to make a fool of myself on the bus, and to get lost a couple of times. After all, isn't that what adventure is made of?

jump start.

I've had a busy few days, and have been thinking that I need to blog, but haven't really felt like I have a lot to say lately. So we'll have another list post.

--Today, I saw some of the strangest stuff I've seen since coming to Japan. Upon leaving campus (seriously, stepping down the staircase off campus onto public sidewalk), I was greeted with people handing out fliers and a large furry mascot like thing that appeared to be in the process of being consumed by a giant blowfish (or fugu, as it is called here). It was bright yellow, and the blow fish on its head was a bright blue. I presume it had something to do with the city, but as I can't read the advertisement, I will remain confused.

--I also saw this oddly painted bus that appeared to be a field trip vehicle for little kids. All the kids inside were wearing straw hats and blue uniforms, and the outside of the bus had this animal scene (I think lions) painted on it. Cutest thing ever? Heck yes.

--Of course, all this happened when I *didn't* have my camera.

--I now know how to work both the trains and the buses and can safely get myself to Kokura and back. It only costs about $6 round trip, and I've been told that the movie theater in Kokura has a women's night on Wednesdays, where tickets are only TEN US dollars instead of EIGHTEEN. YAY. I will definitely be seeing Inception when it comes to Japan - evidently they do English movies with Japanese subtitles. AWESOME.

--I am in desperate need of fair trade coffee. Email me (dianna_anderson at baylor dot edu) if you want my address to send me some FT Certified (unfortunately instant) coffee. There are virtually no good coffee shops here, and I don't feel exactly comfortable buying the coffee stuff at the grocery store (though I have been getting it out of desperation). If I had some coffee I could make at home, it would make a huge difference.

--I now own Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in Japanese. Yes.

--I learned how to cook chicken in a couple of different ways recently. That combined with yakisoba noodles makes for a great evening meal.

--I haven't had many more unusual foods, though I did discover that the McDonald's here has a teriyaki burger, which I may have to try.

--I am planning three trips in the future, which I may have already mentioned: South Korea in September, home to Sioux Falls in December (to meet little Vera, my niece!!!), and Australia/NZ in February for my 25th birthday. I've figured out that I can survive on just about 500USD/month for food/entertainment, leaving my budget wide open for paying back student loans, saving up money, and taking awesome trips. I'm kind of stoked about this.

--In the English Education Center on campus (read: English Lounge), we have a mix CD that plays English songs. It changes once a month, and I've finally made my selections on submissions. The students tend to like pop Top 40 stuff, which I abhor, so I think I found a happy medium. The selections? "Here (In Your Arms)" by hellogoodbye, "Dance Tonight" by Sir Paul McCartney, "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon, "I'm Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You" by Black Kids, "Phantom Punch" by Sondre Lerche (he will be making frequent appearances throughout the year), and finally, "Crushcrushcrush" by Paramore.

--Um, what else...I've been watching a lot of Doctor Who in my free time, and highly recommend it. Most of you, my dear readers, are fans of Sci-Fi, and I think you should know this series. I know of some places to stream it online, so if you want, pop me an email or a comment.

I haven't experienced a whole lot of homesickness yet, but I've been having some strange dreams. Oddly enough, one of the things I miss most is my pets - it kind of sucks not having a cute dog cuddling up next to me as I type, or begging for food as I cook. I don't know a whole lot about social code considering other people's pets here, so I've been really careful when I see adorable dogs on the street and only approach them if they approach me. But I saw a cute little doggie that looked a lot like my dear Lizzie this afternoon and it made me really sad. :(

I didn't mean to leave things on a kind of melancholy note. Um. To cheer you up, the trailer for Part 1 of the final Harry Potter movie released today!



YAY!!!!!

in a future age.

When you think of Japan, what do you think of? It's probably a mess of things: anime cartoons with gigantic eyes, robot technology just shorting of a flying car, cherry blossoms, and Godzilla are just a few, am I right? Huge technology, big cities, fast trains, and men in suits.

What you're thinking of is Tokyo, but as friends have commented, thinking of Tokyo when you think of Japan is like thinking of Times Square when you think of the USA. It's such a small, although visible, chunk of the country that seems to serve to give a distorted impression of the country.

What I'd like to introduce you to is the Japan I am getting acquainted with.

This Japan has mountains covered in dark green forests extending up to meet the sky.

This Japan has old temples made of stone and graveyards that have aging flower on the thin tombstones.

This Japan has no wireless internet.

This Japan has the smell of the ocean when you step out of your apartment.

This Japan air-dried laundry, and barbershops with red and white rotating barber poles.

This Japan has no subway beneath the streets.

This Japan has no Apple stores and one Starbuck's.

This Japan has large orange crabs scuttling in the middle of the street.

This Japan bugs the size of your hand.

This Japan is rural, slightly wild, and beautiful. It has jellyfish stuck in the sand on the beach awaiting the tide coming back in. It has gas stoves and no oven. It has old ladies who will stare at your tattoo and get amazed at the bold American.

But it is also beautiful. As I told a friend the other day, while Shimonoseki is huge, it still feels like a small town. I feel like I am living in Oxford again to some extent - I can and have to walk everywhere, up and down sidewalks and hills, past fields and through tunnels. I shop at the dollar stores, and feel the burn in my arms when I walk the twenty minutes from the grocery store to my house with two plastic bags of foodstuffs. I have the confusion of figuring out the bus system and knowing that I will get lost at some point. But I also have the feeling of safety, of security, of this being my home now.

Japan is not nearly as efficient, technological and "advanced" as most people think that it is. Where I live is much more akin to South Dakota than to NYC - it is a conservative area, very resistant to change, and very family oriented. It has taken the rural and made it a part of the city, something I am well at home with. It has maintained traditions, both good and bad, and its people are friendly and forgiving of errors.

And for the next two years, it is my home. It's hard to believe this is my fourth week here already. I've settled into a routine of teaching, grading and cooking my own food. I'm learning how to get around, and I've made a few friends. My alien registration has come through and I'm officially a foreign resident. I'm planning vacations, setting up student loan repayments and bank accounts, and making a life for myself.

Never in a million years did I picture myself here, but now that I am, it's good to be home.

Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you...

I'm an, uh, an...I'm an Internationalist. There, I said it. Whew. That's a relief.

Wait, no, no, it's not what you think. No, it wasn't anything you did. You were great, fine parents, and I love you deeply. This is just...who I am, who I feel God created me to be.

I have to admit, those missions trips I went on in high school and college...all that getting out into the world and sort of, I guess, experimenting...well, it made me see some things differently. It made me see myself differently. I suppose you could say that it's an urge I've been suppressing for a long time, but when it comes down to it...why fight it anymore? I mean, it's what I love. It's who I love. That's what changed me. I realized that love wasn't just restricted to Americans or British or developed countries. I guess my perspective on Love just...shifted...I hope you can accept that. I love who I love, regardless of where they're from or how much money they have in their pocket or their country's relationship to my country. That's my love, and I hope you can see that.

...

One of the many blogs I follow recently posted this lovely series of clips from Christian Conservative Radio in Minnesota. It contains much of the common anti-homosexual talk so common nowadays, the type of talk that is so unloving that, when I hear it, I tend to just shake my head in sadness and walk away. I still listen, so that I can put things into some context and understand what is being said on the other side (and I'm getting better at listening without getting angry), so I was surprised when the thing that jumped out at me was not their praise of Malawi's imprisonment of a gay couple, nor the discussion of how Muslim nations handle homosexuality. Instead, it was the imprecations against a member of Amnesty International's take on the prevalence of anti-gay laws.

Before they even quoted what she had to say, they commented (with a tone of derision and disgust in their voices), that this was someone from Amnesty International, "so you know already that she's an Internationalist."

Not being a regular listener of the show, the comment intrigued me. "Internationalist" - what does that even mean? From the tone in which it was said, and the offhand way this comment was thrown out, I had to assume that it was something discussed on the show before, and something that was conceivably quite negative.

The implications behind "Internationalist" being an insult and an imprecation of character strike me as more disheartening and frightening than all the anti-gay talk that surrounds it. To be an Internationalist (and I am having to make an assumption here, but I think it is reasonably supported by tone and context), seems to mean someone who looks beyond the borders of America and works for people regardless of national origin. Judging from the context, I don't doubt it might also mean someone who doesn't see national boundaries at all - one of those silly "We Are the World" types, who believes that America is no more blessed by God than say, India or Iraq or Japan.

That seems to be dangerous thinking for these particular radio hosts - an implication that America is not God's chosen people, that the American way is not the only way, that the principles of our Constitution may not be the end all be all of values, life, and government, is dangerous to their position. If America is not everything they say it is - if America is not chosen and blessed by God and therefore the paragon of liberty, if other nations are just as important - then their hardline stances on many issues need to be rethought and challenged.

It might mean (God forbid!) that America's government and Constitution are just as flawed and problematic as anyone other nation's and therefore some things may have to actually change in order to become better.

It might mean opening their eyes to the idea that, despite being the nation of liberty and freedom, we have created a situation in which our liberty and freedom are costing others their lives. Our desire to "live as we want without intrusion," to "live as God commands" (in their interpretation, not mine), might be taking a toll on the rest of the world. But surely, if we're the best nation on earth and the only one that matters, then those foolish "Internationalists" have to be wrong...right?

This conflation of God and State worries me. And no, I'm not talking about separation of Church and State - that's another matter entirely. I'm talking about seeing the State as God, which seems to be precisely the error that these particular radio talk show hosts are making. Because America is the Christian nation founded on Biblical principles by Christian men (a claim disputed by many a learned historian), then the State is simply another arm of God. This leads to comments like Glenn Beck's inflammatory comments that the Constitution is divinely inspired, this leads to the blindness that seems to occupy both sides of the homosexual marriage issue, leads to the uplifting and praising of rather arbitrary political boundaries that are a post-Enlightenment development.

It seems to be a refusal to see the bigger picture - that America, though young and powerful, is a teenager on the world stage, and frequently acts as such.

Being an Internationalist, then, seems to be the only way to survive. To realize that people are people no matter where they come from is incredibly important. When we complain about Obama bowing to the leader of another nation, we cut ourselves off from the idea of actually understanding another person. When we say that "we don't negotiate with terrorists" and use it as an excuse not to be diplomatic in situations that call for diplomacy, we fail to actually be God's nation in the world, the kind that loves its neighbor and tries to make the decision that would be best for all.

I've been thinking about this sort of thing a lot since coming to Japan. As much as I try not to be the Ugly American, I do have trouble with some things, and am probably unintentionally rude quite often. But, making an effort to learn and grasp Japanese culture also means that I am making an effort to see the Japanese as people, and not just some foreign group. There are numerous things that are immensely confusing in Japanese culture, at least to the American mindset. But, I wouldn't get very far if I just said, "Well that's not how we do it in America," and left it at that.

That might make me an Internationalist. If that's the case, then so be it. I'm fine with a label that means I'm making an effort to make the world a better place, rather than just sitting back and yelling "HELL NO" out of one side of my mouth and saying praises to God out of the other.

So, American Nation, I hope you understand. I hope you can bring yourself to look at America more critically in the future, and maybe get into the 21st century with the rest of us. It's 2010, baby, why are we even having this discussion?!

"Where do you come from?"

"South Dakota."

"Um, where is that?"

I turn to the large world map behind me, find the United States, and point to the middle, up close to Canada.

"Ohhh! Is that city or country?"

"I live in the city, but it's mostly country."

"OH! You are city girl then!"

"Kind of."

I had this conversation at lunch today in the EEC, or English Education Center, on the University's campus. It is a replica of conversations I've had with my students, fellow professors, and other English-speaking Japanese. Explaining where I come from is hard - "South Dakota by way of Texas" doesn't make a lot of sense to the Japanese students at my school. Frequently, they recognize Texas, but then explaining that I'm not actually from Texas, but somewhere else entirely gets a little complicated.

Not a whole lot of people in the United States could find South Dakota on a map, so it's no surprise that I have to keep spelling out S-I-O-U-X and D-A-K-O-T-A for official forms and stuff.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about where I come from. If "coming from" some place was as simple as "this is where I spent my childhood," then South Dakota is my answer, no question. I spent the first 22 years of my life there. But if "coming from" means "Where were you directly prior to coming to Japan?" then my answer has to change. Reluctant to claim Texas as my own, the "South Dakota by way of Texas" was born.

But what if "coming from" means where I grew up, where I became the person I am? Then Texas, England and South Dakota all have a claim, and to a lesser extent, India, France, and Italy all do as well. Rarely have I visited another country without it becoming a part of me in some way. Having been here only two weeks, I can already tell that Japan is going to have a great effect in my life - I am living alone for the first time, living in a country that does not speak my native tongue, and basically having to relearn everything I know about feeding myself (I mean, cooking, not the actual eating process itself, though chopsticks are a fun addition to the arsenal of utensils). I will do a lot of growing up here - my teaching philosophy will have to change in many respects, and while I hope to keep the essence of who I am, I think my perspective on many issues will broaden out.

Being from South Dakota means a lot of things. I pronounce "wagon" like "wegon," for a start. But I also tend to view things through a much more practical lens. Being the daughter of a man who grew up in the country, in a family of seven, I tend to see things very practically - if an object doesn't have an immediately obvious purpose, I tend to regard it with skepticism. I have cushions on my couch not to look pretty, but to serve a function. I also know how to drive in snow, with a manual transmission, and know what sort of things to do in severe weather. I also have a healthy respect for nature, knowing that a storm can kill you in seconds, and you shouldn't really muck around with it.

Having lived far away from home though, I also see a lot of beauty in "seizing the moment." Living in England developed a lot of my independence and confidence, teaching me not to see my country as the end-all be-all of nations, teaching me how to make and treasure friends, and teaching me to adventure as long as I am able. England gave me a lot of the life philosophy that landed me in Japan.

In Texas, I came face to face with the concept of poverty. Waco, as the 16th poorest city in the nation, held more encounters with the homeless and the poor than I'd had before, even in England, where there were some beggars I saw every single day. The Christian bubble which Baylor is surprised and disconcerted me, and I grew out of previous prejudices and ideas about the poor. I learned to simplify my life, learning to let go of things I didn't need, and learning how to love those around me even more. That is a large part of who I am now.

India brought me face to face with the other side of the world. I saw beauty, grace, love and God there in some of the worst situations. I learned to see the beauty in another person, even if it was not on the surface obvious. I confronted a lot of different questions about my American lifestyle and how I wish to live.

In two years, when I'm finished with my tenure here at Baiko, how then will I answer this question?

Where do I come from?

Where do you come from?

This is where I live now.

Yup.