How Haters Hate

That Lost is a sci-fi-laden, fantasy-filled, mind-twisting iceberg of a show is beyond the shadow of a doubt.  It’s only natural, I believe, that such a unique show has garnered legions of avid fans.  It is also unfortunately natural that such a unique show has garnered an equal number of haters.

If you don’t watch ABC’s most expensive drama, you might find talk about the convoluted, conspiracy-heavy plot annoying.  I can only assume the annoyance comes from one of two places: 1. Annoyance at lacking the knowledge of the intricacies of a decidedly deep plot (not deep in a literary sense, but just full of stuff) or 2. Annoyance at how excited Lost fans become when the show is the topic du jour.

In the first case, I can understand the frustration.  It’s like when a study group of mine fervently debated Ron Paul’s merits last semester.  I had nothing to contribute, and I wasn’t happy about it.

But in the second case — hating the show or its fans because of how deeply invested they are in the fiction — is unacceptable.  Rather, I should say vocal hatred will not do.  As long as its internal, you’re entitled to shit on whatever you want.

But from where does the urge to express one’s hatred for the show come?  Is one compelled to tell Lost fans how stupid that show is out of a sense of compassion; can I, a fan of Lost, be committing wrong in my life as a fan?  Or does one like to make others angry out of some inversely altruistic motive?

A student wearing a backwards baseball cap in my German class spoke up in this way yesterday, after the season 6 premiere.  My teacher, a few students, and I were discussing the show, theories about future episodes, and so on, when someone with a little experience with Lost mentioned how the show had lost his interest.  This prompted Backwards Hat, who might have been raging inside himself already, to speak out.

Yeah, Lost is the stupidest show ever.

The weight of that statement, I am certain, wasn’t comprehended by Backwards Hat.  In short, he put the show up against every other fictional story in history and said it was the nadir.  I’m sure he knows, right?

My teacher responding, asking him if he had seen all the seasons.  His reply:

I’ve read summaries of all the seasons, and it’s just so stupid.

At this point his case is doubly fucked.  Grasping at straws, he admitted he was hating out of ignorance while pretending to maintain that he had a real argument.  (It might be worse to think he was still convinced he had an actual case against Lost after all this.)

The argument between Backwards Hat and my teacher meandered after that.  I didn’t want to get into it because I’ve learned that it only upsets me to argue with people who don’t understand how to formulate arguments.  It’s the Chewbacca defense — how can I argue against sensationalist nonsense?

I said all this not to say that Lost REELLY IZ TEH BEST SHOW EVARRR YOU SUCK, but to say that it’s not a show that’s easy to hate once you accept that it’s fiction.

Backwards Hat made a point to mention in a derogatory tone, “I mean, it has time travel.”  This means that he wrote off the show because it has become too unrealistic.  Although surely he goes home and plays Halo or watches Transformers 2, right?

In this way, Backwards Hat defeats himself.  There are apparently certain criteria that cause him to write off a plot altogether.  Personally, though I understand time travel is a difficult subject to logically explain, I appreciate writers who step out of the realm of realism and take some chances.  It beats the paths for more writers to try more interesting plot devices.

Watch what you hate.  In this case, I mean that literally.  You might change your mind.

A Small Intersection Full of Memories

School lets out some time in the afternoon.  And about 10 minutes later the crest of the wave of students comes crashing down upon this very intersection (pictured).  Not so much rows of polite pedestrians as two loud and disconnected mobs — one on each side of the street — move slowly (less like a wave, I guess), as Japanese students do, down the hill whose peak is the University and whose trough is the train station.

And I mean it: It’s one long-ass hill.  All the way down.  The only problem with this is going to school in the mornings.  When you’re late.  I’ve never sweated more on commutes to anything than I did to Kansei Gakuin Daigaku, my university in Nishinomiya, Japan.

Why should you care about this picture?  Interest in my anecdotes and in travel pictures aside, this is one of the many faces of Japan.  It is perhaps one you do not see depicted in culture books and insulting American TV shows.  It’s decidedly normal, isn’t it?  But what you can’t possibly understand from this picture is the depth of this moment.

For one, the students flood this intersection, day and night, commuting to and from classes and clubs (more the latter in Japan).  Because of this, traffic control is, some would say, necessary.  So we’re greeted and commanded by old Japanese crossing guards during the busier times to cross or halt.  They’re funny, the anthill’s worth of traffic controllers positioned at seven or so intersections between the Kotoen train station and KGU (a 15-minute walk).  What the Japanese think I’m not sure, but my foreigner friends and I always noted their superfluousness (no disrespect).  My theory was that 1. these old retired men had nothing better to do and maybe even enjoyed their silly job and 2. that this was proof Japan’s economy was working — how else could they have so much money that they throw it away on countless Wal-Mart greeter-esque employees?

For my Japanese poetry class, the teacher asked us one day to leave the classroom, observe the nature outside, and write about it.  A bored friend decided to try and interview a crossing guard (for a different class) and approached the old man.

Excuse me, I’m writing a report.  May I interview you?

No no no!  I’m busy!  Not while I’m working!

There were no cars or scooters or bikes on the lonely road in front of us, and there wouldn’t be for a while.  Maybe he was being too self-important.  Or maybe he really respected his position.

Back to the picture: What’s more, the traffic that these guys control.  Buses barreled down the curvy hill (from behind the photographer), forced to honk to avoid hitting the students who spread out too far and carelessly turned the corner in the street.  Mopeds were everywhere, as were bikes.  See that corner jam-packed with them?

I wish I had the space here to discuss the perplexing orderly chaos that is traffic in Japan.  In short, everyone is equally bad at driving, and somehow that makes it work.  In my 11-month residence there, I saw zero accidents.

I want to tell you about all the restaurants and stores that line this insignificant strip of a few hundred feet of this insignificant little back road in the small town of Nishinomiya; and how many new dishes I tasted here; and how many friends I made at the McDonald’s here; and how I comforted a crying friend on the sidewalk as cars and people passed, none of them interested; and how our groups would always loiter outside the many restaurants on this road trying to decide where to eat after each Coffee Hour and as a result of untimeliness our group split up but always in interesting ways; but I’m out of time.

It ends at that Spanish-looking building in the distance — that’s the train station.  Hankyu Kotoen.

The worst part about commuting uphill was knowing the next train station down, Hankyu Nigawa, was equidistant to the school, devoid of relief in the land, alongside a beautiful river, with green mountains clearly visible in the distance, and no one ever got off here.  Always Kotoen.  I honestly still haven’t discovered the power this place has.  But I’ve scratched the surface at least.

Resolve! The Year Is New!

I have finally soaked in the lists.  I have prepared myself somehow for the new year.  I have heard the predictions.  And here comes my resolutions bringing up the rear.

Ten days in and I have read not only many Best of 2009 lists, but Best of the Decade lists too.  I like them.  The haters on the wall might tell you that naming 2010 the beginning of a new decade is arbitrary, but don’t listen to them — they’re haters.

I’m sure many of us cannot believe the first decade of the new millennium is already passed.  If I may hashtag this next statement, ahem: #10yearsago I was a little bitch who didn’t care about anything but myself and toys and junk food.  I hated middle school so I don’t want to go back there.  Perhaps a little younger… hmm, maybe a bit older… no, that’s no good either.

Is right now the best time of my life?  I can’t say yes, but I can’t answer that positively for any time in my life.  There are moments scattered along my time line that I would gather up and put into one impossible bundle of a year if I could choose my favorite time in my life.  But that’s probably true for you too, so I won’t bore you with details.

_______________________

Now, I usually create concrete resolutions and then break them.  Stuff like
1. Read an extracurricular book a month
2. Learn a jazz standard on piano each week
3. Finish an anime series every month

But I can’t seem to think of good ones at this point in my life.  Rather, I like to think my schedule is productive enough without a clear-cut jot list of to-do items; and if I’m not already doing most of the stuff I resolve to do, I will fail to do it this year.  But here is what I am currently thinking about.  Many ideas are from others.

1. Broaden my gamer pallet.  Play more games that I would not normally consider touching.

2. Read when the mood strikes me.  I get the urge to dive into one of my many owned-but-unread books very very often, but I usually end up stalling until I forget about reading or lose the motivation.  I don’t know why I do this, and it must stop now!!

3. Do my homework.  I don’t like being afraid of tests.

4. Encourage myself to stay on top of current events and their relation to history.  I have already started to do this in natural earnest, which is amazing (I’ve never cared about news or history).  And in keeping with what I said above this list, I’m just gonna try and stay on the horse of… the horse of good things, for as long as I can.

5. Remain chill.  I want to continue to let next to nothing bother me.  My approach of arguing and convincing and learning simply by asking questions and making non-partisan statements has worked like a fucking charm, and I have Japan (and my friends in Japan) to thank for that personality adjustment.  Keep this up!  I accidentally got caught up in stupid arguments over the break and got flustered when I could’ve withdrawn and stayed in chillax mode.  Do not do this!

6. Write music.  Maybe perform it again.  I don’t want to pressure myself to be a musician that I am not; I have guilted myself for too long.  I’ll do what I want with music, so long as I do something.

7. Figure out my near-future plans.  I either need to apply for grad school, a job, or an internship.  Do this posthaste!

8. Be awesome in every way.

Simple “Art” Enhances Daily Grind

I called this my favorite wall in Japan.  My 11 months there led me past many walls, but this one I saw almost every day — twice.  You may not be able to tell, but it’s located on a fairly steep incline leading from the street (along the Hankyu railway) down to a grimy tunnel (that leads you under the JR tracks).  It clearly isn’t very glamorous, the graffiti not especially awe-inspiring.  But that panda in seifuku is beautiful to me.

Not only are its proportions perfect — turning a big fat bear into a stereotypically skinny Japanese schoolgirl — but it’s perfectly simple.  The artist saw no need (or had no time) for excessive texture in the school uniform or the panda’s fur.  The outlines present this drawing as a piece that anyone can fully digest in the time it takes to walk by.  In that way, it’s good graffiti.

More importantly though, this picture sparked a debate between me and a friend of mine named Markus who saw this wall as often as I.  The discussion was “What is art?” Blegh, I know.  But I love the never-ending and subjective nature of the question.  So I encouraged the debate with this picture.

Markus was one to argue conservatively that the scope of what we call “art” should be small.  He even got a few bites on eBay advertising his drawings as “from the up-and-coming artist Markus G,” which led further to him calling BS on the art industry.  So I showed him this picture, which was my cell’s wallpaper, and told him that the panda in seifuku is art to me because it’s a beautiful human creation in a recognized medium (paint on walls).

He was never convinced that I was right about art’s definition.  I like to think art is the deliberate creations that move us one way or the other.  And by “us” I do not mean “me.”  I happen to think some photo art is crap, and I feel even more strongly about some shitty music out there that isn’t art to me.  But if it’s art to someone, then who am I to say it isn’t?  And the simple, unfinished, obviously fanciful and weird panda schoolgirl always intrigued me.  What was the artist’s point?  Why a panda for a head?  Why didn’t he finish it?  Why here?

What’s important to me about this picture is this: it broke my train of thought from the day-to-day (because who ever sees stuff like this in real life?) just enough to make my long walk to the train station every morning and the lonely walk back home every night a little better.  If I saw a Sistine Chapel twice a day I might be overwhelmed.  Which is why I appreciate the simplicity of this wall.

My Life As I Know It

If you wanted a picture of my life since I have returned from Japan — a duration of about 5 months now — this is it.  As literal as I can be, this has been my life.  If it takes a second to admit this picture is boring, and so is my life therefore, I appreciate it.  But my life is one room, one girl, and one hobby.  Let me explain.

Despite the aspirations I flew home with to be a performing artist, an on-staff newspaper journalist, a Japanese TA, and a better person, I have spent 5 months in the room you see up above.  I go to class, go home, play video games, hang out with Sarah, and insist on remaining a hikikomori.

Not there’s anything wrong with that lifestyle per se (provided it’s not too extreme and you have a job or some obligation to contribute to society), but there is obviously a clash between what I am and what I want to be.

The problem is the situational disconnect in my brain: at home I choose to remain and read online articles and utilize my GameFly subscription, while out at a bar or a club meeting (rare occurrences) I reflect on what a waste my home life is making me.  Even if I can accomplish much at home, it doesn’t always feel that way.  But my dilemma is that I cannot decide what I really want to do with my life.

Sarah will become a doctor of pharmacy.  My friend Jason will be a social worker.  My cousin will be a grad student.  Me?  My track is so incredibly wide open that I can’t decide which path to take!  It’s the hilarious problem of being a liberal arts major in the 21st century.  Should I be a Japanese teacher?  An English teacher?  A journalist?  A … normal worker person?  I honestly do not know, and I am honestly graduating college in 6 months.

My problem in fewer words is this: what is the proper balance between my hobbies and my career pursuit?  And furthermore, what career should I try to pursue?!  Surely I need to pick one — soon — and put all my efforts in that.  But I am completely undecided.  At this point, I have career aptitude tests, volunteering, internships, and research to help me decide the answers and get out of my apartment.

How Many Words Does It Take?

Just to let you know — if you happen to drop by — I am revitalizing this blog with a picture/story milieu.  It should work like this: you see a picture, from my time in Japan or here or a picture that I didn’t take, and I’ll quickly explain it and then extrapolate what it makes me think about in general.

My hope is that you will frequent this page as often as I do, and you will learn about me.  But more importantly, I hope I ask some interesting questions to get your internal debates started.

I’ll update soon.

Why Should I Care?

That’s the title of a jazz standard. Good song. It’s probably about love or something.

Coming back to America has been an experience for me. Adjusting to the diet, non-public transportation, lack of daily exercise (unless provoked), and the total absence of Japanese, has been interesting, relaxing, sad, and frustrating.

Quick story. While I was in Japan, I essentially abandoned the history major within me and adopted what me and Greg call an “anti-intelligence tip.” My philosophies had led me to that point as a result of the question of ethics. How should I live? I would ask.  I’d answer Be happy.  Make others happy.  Be honest.  Make efforts to stay that way.

It’s simple enough right?  Too simple?  Maybe.  But that’s where I was in my life’s search for truth and meaning.  Is there intelligence inherent in my ethics?  Of course.  I must answer how I stay happy while positively influencing others.  And honesty cannot help but propagate knowledge and intelligence.  However, being “anti-intelligence” meant that I rejected the excess.  What’s going on in Iraq right now? Well, I’m in Japan; I don’t care; the few people around me that care aren’t hurt by me not caring; I couldn’t do anything about the situation in Iraq from my position; so fuck it: I don’t know.  I didn’t know because I did not care to know.  Is that so wrong?

Well, it may be to Americans.  Isn’t there this general promotion of staying abreast of current intelligence and current events?  Even these college kids who, to me, care nothing about <loaded>deep knowledge</loaded> read the university’s daily newspaper.  My parents’ generation watch CNN in between their daily-grind workdays.  Aside from these normal people are the real intellectuals: scholars, teachers, writers, journalists, politicians, etc. who really value awareness of current events.

Why, though?  I guess I shouldn’t be asking that, being an undergraduate history major.  Why should I care about intelligence and knowledge?? Right, why?  Personally, I haven’t figured it out beyond the scope of my personal pursuit of happyness.  But I am deeper into it by simply being here at UGA and having the academic responsibilities to do my work.

So I just left my African History professor’s office.  We were discussing a test grade and study habits.  For whatever reason he suddenly quizzed me, asking me to name some cities in Afghanistan.  I couldn’t.  Crazy, huh?  I recognized names he mentioned, but he was shocked and, yeah, appalled that I couldn’t answer his question.  Frankly it was embarrassing, but my questions lead me to avoiding such knowledge.

Question: Afghanistan. Okay okay, let’s see.  Osama Bin Laden.  9/11.  War.  Iraq.  Saddam Hussein.  Deaths.  Sad.  Bring ‘em home.  Partisanship.  War economy.  Seriously bring ‘em home.

Where is the capital of Afghanistan in there?  I mean, this is my point here: knowing city names in the Middle East is avoidable.  My answer to the question “Afghanistan” is what I pick up here and there.  And I’ve certainly read several news and wikipedia articles about the Iraq War but what I get out of those are details relevant to me.  I toss the rest (because I have a poor memory).

I was embarrassed, but more upset that I was insulted because I have no interest in certain current events.  Even if, as I might hear someone say, it affects me, why should I care about Afghanistan and the Iraq War? I’m not asking “what is there to care about?” or “why should anyone care for it at all,” but why should I (me) care enough to make efforts to remember things like–

Where’s Basra?

The answer, my teacher assumed, is something everybody just knows.  But everybody doesn’t just know.  Lots of people probably do not even care.  And I cannot find a reason to blame them.

So, why should I care?

Out of da club

So I went clubbing again last night.  It marks my 3rd or 4th time clubbing in Japan, but also in my life.  I admit that I was prejudiced after my first experience at Pure, and I think there’s a lot of fun to be had at clubs, even for the modest.

We headed to Shinsaibashi to hit up LIFE, a club on the smaller side, but it’s completely free to get in (for a decent club, this is rare). Outside there was a sign. Michael Jackson’s Thriller was the background.  The text said “Free Memorial Party.”  I thought it was so cool.  This is how the world reacts to big news.  My dad has told me the story of where he was when he found out John Lennon had been killed.  Yesterday was like that for me.  Incidentally, I first found out about it through Twitter, but I ended up watching his music videos at a club, and later, a quesadilla vendor.

The music wasn’t all MJ, but it was good.  I was having a ball dancing, and was happy to receive 2 free shots.  But things went awry when a few avid clubbers decided LIFE was below their standards — which I still believe to be snobby — and jetted.  Their influence somehow trickled down to me (who probably cared the least about 3 of 15 people leaving) and I had no choice but to stuff myself into a taxi with 5 people and head to Sam & Dave’s in Umeda. I was kind of upset that everyone half-assedly decided to ditch a good free club for a crowded, expensive, shitty-music-playing one. So I saw my friends inside and dipped. I found some attractive places around the streets, then headed back to the club. I never went in. I’m glad. Eventually others showed up and I ended up chilling on the curb with Meiyou, Stephanie, Markus, and Lauryn until 5am. On the way home we tried to find the shrine dedicated to the characters (based on real people) of the Love Suicides at Sonezaki, a play by Chikamatsu.　We couldn’t find it… So we returned home.

The night was fun, and after a bit I stopped sulking in frustration, so it was all good.  Also, I’ve had some recent trouble with alcohol so I only drank those two shots, and ended up having a good night!

Friday Night Heights

Friday night was fun–an example of why I am here and why I enjoy it.

For starters, Fridays this semester are class-free like I mentioned before.  I got up leisurely, chatted with Sarah, and ate…it was probably curry.  That’s all I eat now.

Work happened from 3 to 6.  It’s already a laid-back job (a la Cleveland Coin).  But now it’s even more chill because the English tutoring hours (my hours) have moved from the daycare to my boss’s house!  And all the kids are friends, so I’m merely a co-baby sitter half the time.  This time includes playing with a bunny, roaming around the house, getting awesome tea and snacks, and just chatting with my boss Tamaho about life (this week was “How to raise your children in both English and Japanese”).  The other part is actual tutoring, but it’s generally painless if you give the children a smidge of freedom.

From 6:00 I was on my way to see friends Erik and JD perform at a live house near Osaka.  It took a while to get there (and several different trains) but I spotted several other late comers at the last train station.  We enjoyed some McD’s sitting around a huge fountain, then headed to the hole.

Yeah, it was a hole.  I mean, narrow, nearly unnoticeable looks-like-it-leads-to-the-utility-closet-of-the-city staircase; which leads down into an ever increasing curry smell (there was no curry—-no food at all).  The live house itself is hella hella small, with very few seats.  But none of that mattered when the music was playing.  Tons of people were there (Trevor, Neil, Kana, Junko, Lars, Nela, Jessica, Anna, Carvahlo) and Erik and JD played a psychadelic and highly groovable electronic show with a drumset, a guitar, and a computer.  It was pleasurable as always.

The next band was a three-man rock group that had a bit of an original edge to them—-enough to make me enjoy them.  The lead singer had a surprisingly high and slightly shaky voice like Thom Yorke.

The third group was—-(haha, oh goodness)—-they were wild.  They were called 8 monkeys I believe, but they had 6 members.  The impressive setup led me to believe my shit would be rocked.  It wasn’t.  But I still liked them.  They said, like all bands do, “We’ll be playing for the next 30 minutes, so let’s have fun.”  But they seriously played for the next 30 minutes.  One long piece that flowed in and out of funk, always returning to a dull ambient nebulous foundation.  Who I thought was the lead singer was actually just the talker.  He walked around stage most of the time, and every once in a while he would start screaming stories into the microphone.  His mic was too low, but at one point the music stopped, and the story sounded pretty dull.  I thought it was awesome, though.  In short, I liked them because I’d never seen a band like them.

The fourth group, kacica, rocked my shit.  Hard. I’m listening to their CD as I type.  It’s amazing.  A 4-piece band, they played the four instruments you’d think they’d play, but they all had other shit going on too.  Mesmerizing electronic effects were manipulated with pads and pedals to really change the entire atmosphere of the venue.  Three songs, about 10 minutes long each, were all awesome.  The music was definitely heavy, but the minimalism is what made it mesmerizing.  The bassist would play like 3 notes over and over the whole song, the drums would give a driving beat that didn’t really change except that it got increasingly louder.  The guitarist/effects master would eff with ess until the speakers were absolutely full of fun.

[Update: I found some videos of kacica on youtube.  I plan on burning the CD I bought for all interested when I get back to the states, but for now enjoy a short-length version (along the lines of the album version) of "mosaic."  To be honest the extra 10 minutes of slamming drums really knocked my head off, but this version is great too.]

What minimalism does for me is, it gets me into a secure position with a secured rhythm.  I hear this played over and over, and I can get lost in it.  The final song, “Mosaic,” got so loud and driving that I was lifted out of my chair and onto the floor.   I couldn’t not move my body.  It was really moving.

So I talked to them after the show, told them I loved it, bought their CD and we exchanged “I hope to see you again”s.

We returned to the fountain to drink and talk about music for a couple of hours, then took the many trains home.

Me and Lars went to an absinthe bar at our train station.  It was my first time drinking absinthe.  Junk is strong and that ain’t no joke.  The bartender looked and sounded high, which is awesome because I’ve never seen that in Japan.  The atmosphere of the place was great, which is good because I’ll be returning there next weekend for a show.

And then I finally got some sleep

It was a beautiful night where I discovered new places, new music, new conversation, new thoughts from old acquaintances, and new drinks.  I hope I fill my next month and a half with great experiences like that while I’m here, and then carry on in America as well

School Break Words Brake

Summer has begun for my bros and…ladies back in the US.  That’s really awesome.  But me?  I get next week off because of swine flu.  Seriously, I’m sick of breaks man.  I have a very light schedule and I’m not that stressed.  And I ain’t making up this missed class time at the end of July, I’m going the eff home.

Here it’s called shingata influenza, which means “new type influenza.”  We had a supposed first infection in Japan a couple weeks ago, but it was a false alarm.  Now, in the district of the city I live in, Chuo-ku, Kobe, there have been a number of infections confirmed.  More in Osaka.  I heard about like 3 yesterday, and now it looks like it’s over 30.  Sarah was right: diseases have potential to spread very fast.

But I think Japan is hyping up shingata influenza more than America is.  Am I wrong?  My school is cancelled for a week.  Kobe University is too, along with several other schools and universities in this area.  Have you Americans gotten holidays because of swine flu scare?  Yesterday (when I first heard of 3 cases of shingata flu) I was transferring trains in nishikita station like I do almost every day, and I noticed lots of people working in the station wearing masks.  You know, those white surgeon-looking masks (called masuku here) are super common here.  I don’t think I’ve gone a single day in Japan when I didn’t walk outside and see several people wearing masks.  It’s extremely commonplace here in Japan.  But, as I walked across the station to the other platform, I noticed, “Wait, bread salesman, station attendants, barbers, everyone who works inside the station is wearing a mask!”  I assumed then that it was regulation, not just coincidence.  Either way, fear is pretty palpable here.

And in my experience, holidays in Japan without travel plans quite suck.  It sucks being cooped up in this tiny dorm room with no fun to be had.  Especially because most people usually are travelling on holidays.  I guess everyone will be here this week, so who knows what’ll happen.  Friday I’m going to visit Akiko in her hometown.  I’m getting to stay in her parents house (if I remember, sliding traditional doors and shite) which will be cool.  But until Friday, what I’m gon’ do?

I guess I gotta game it out and study as much as I can.  The general Japanese fear is making think I should stay inside mostly, so I’m left to loneliness.

To change the subject, I’ve been thinking a lot about dialects and slang lately.  Well, for months now.  Studying Japanese has made me appreciate regional differences in a language.  In American English, there exist tons of different variations of the standardized version.  I used to try and distance myself from dialects and stick with standard English.  I don’t mean that I tried to change my accent (that’d be super hard).  I just wanted to speak perfectly grammatically as best I could.  It wasn’t because I wanted to be cooler than normal Georgian speakers (although naturally perfecter language sounds smarter), it’s just that I liked the thought of being perfectly understood on the first run through.

However, I don’t know what about Japanese made me like dialectical speech, but I’ve come to really enjoy the subtle and crazy differences between the speech of people from California and the speech of my extended family.  It’s so cool.  I just like that regions have tailored English to fit them.  Compared to England, American English generally uses fewer words to communicate right?  Then Georgia has “bless his heart” and “it’s high time” and “ya’ll” and so on–phrases that are used a lot in place of different words used elsewhere.  In conclusion, I’m excited about returning to Georgia and embracing the dialect there.