Interests:I'm Isabelle! Sadly, I may no longer tease my friends from afar, because they are now close enough to beat me up. Not that they could...perhaps, but I still prefer to give them half my sandwich as a bribe. It's safer. Expertise:Making myself understood through bad English; Making my friends confused by forgetting to add important words (like "card" at the end of "library"...); Having fun Occupation:I knit silk scarves with my fe
No one ever mentioned college was going to be so interesting. They said it would be difficult, that the teaching style would throw me off, that the material would seem out of my league. Some described hours of grueling research and typing papers and drunken parties on exam nights. Two years ago (has it already been that long?) college sounded like the type of giant egotistical indulgence of wealth and power that didn't suit my more academic nature. Now however, I find myself more excited than ever to be learning new things. This last week has been especially excellent. Ervand Abrahamian came to do a series of lectures on Iran and the links of oil to power. Normally such a lecture wouldn't interest me, even though I am currently taking a course on Modern Iran. No, what made this series of lectures very special was the fact that I had just written a criticism on Abrahamian's book, "A History of Modern Iran." I found the chapters, especially one on lead up to the Revolution of 1979, too crowded with data and figures and statistics. For someone who has no knowledge of Iran's history at all, it was not a good book to begin with because the little details, such as the percentage of oil revenue over the years, were useless without any basic information on the Iranian public. So while the book rambled on about numbers, I found myself wondering where the everyday people of Iran fit into the revolution, not the politicians or foreign governments. Abrahamian's lecture was nothing like his book. He was witty, clever, and understandable. He made the issue of oil not only interesting but also clear in how it fit into Iran's history. In short, his lecture was everything his book should have been. I'm sorry to say that I was only able to attend one of the four lectures.
I also had the chance to attend the first public viewing of the film "Women Without Men." I don't wish to spoil it for the paltry few that may happen upon this blog, but I will say that even in its rough, not quite finished form, the movie is already gorgeous. I haven't read the book, and the co-writer made it quite clear during the Q&A that the book was only 30% of the inspiration and influence of this film, but I'm sure many who go to see "Women Without Men" with the book in mind still won't be dissapointed. The movie does at times become too cluttered with themes and conflicts (there's the political and personal character conflicts, along with the mystical realism and 4 character storylines to confuse things), but in the end the issues Iranian women face were clear.
So all in all a good week. And now I'm bored of typing.
Today, Uniqua was kidnapped by my fellow co-workers. Michael Berns, Uniqua’s “father figure,” is absolutely distraught over the loss of his desktop companion. The ransom note reads as follows:
Uniqua is now being held hostage.
To get her back, you, Berns, must log onto Facebook and complete the list of 25 things. She will be returned once you have completed this list and tagged all of your Reslife coworkers in this note.
After expressing my concern for her welfare, Berns declared that he would exact revenge on these kidnappers by refusing to take part in their sick listing games. When I informed him that the letter seemed serious and that it was possible the kidnappers would ruin some of Uniqua’s paper fingers, Berns said (and I quote):
“I refuse to negotiate with office terrorists. That is a risk I am willing to take, and Uniqua will understand. But, more importantly, it won’t come to that, because I’ll find her! I will search every nook and cranny of this office for her! I will not stoop to the level of Frontyardigan diplomacy! I will avert disaster by saving a Backyardigan to save the world! This is war. Units 1, 21, and 18A, hunt down the ones responsible for this – The “Deadly Evil Alliance of Nefarious Networking Associates”(d.e.a.n.n.a.) & “Countless Arbitrary Mentions of Independent Research Advocates”(c.a.m.i.r.a.). Curses, my door still hasn’t been fixed.”
That was the moment I realized Berns was possibly unhinged (due, of course, to the loss of his dear dear friend). However, immediately after this amazing speech (which brought myself and AdilPalin to near-tears) the real Adil walked in, and I was saved from a potentially painful and horrid death by “theatrical, overdone ranting on the benefits of adopting a piñata.” And instead faced a new death by Adil-Puns.
I got stuck doing that horrid list of 25 thanks to some persistent co-workers. And, since the list took me so friggin' long to do (most of what I DON'T share with people I don't share for a reason) I thought it was a terrible waste of effort to post it in only one place. So here, suffer with me:
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1.I used to be very very paranoid. Now I’m only very paranoid.
2.Thanks to this paranoia, I used to hide cash in various places around my room. Apparently, some of the hiding was so good that when my mother cleaned my room when I left for Japan, she found nearly $300.
3.Due to an incident with a painting when I was at a young and impressionable age, I have the habit of turning over or covering up anything with an image of a face on it: Books, CDs, photos, etc.
4.I used to play the flute.
5.I used to spend my recesses alone, but happy.
6.I still read new books from Dianna Wynn Jones, as well as the occasional Garth Nix novel…
7.I used to believe that when everyone reached the age of 16 or 18, something magical and wonderful happened to them. I’ve since learned that the magic is when you finally end your teenage years.
8.I don’t like my foods touching each other on my plate unless I make it so.
9.I’m skilled in cards. That’s because I used to play speed games (like Pounce) and practice magic tricks all the time.
10.I used to collect all sorts of stuffed toys and objects for my “Barbie” dolls. And yes, I had tons of fun playing with them.
11.I once received a letter of admiration from the Mayor of my hometown when I was little for a photo I (unknowingly) took for a contest.
12.I think swings are just as fun as ever.
13.In high school I swam the 500 meter for the team. My coach would get frustrated because of my lack of competitiveness.
14.I also used to attend a gymnastics course and camps. It was also my favorite activity of PE (along with rope climbing and swinging).
15.I used to carry multiple books to school – one for the ride to school, one for recess, one for the ride home, one for if I finished all the others, and an extra for if I didn’t like any of the books I brought.
16.I love tunafish and rootbeer.
17.I’m French and Japanese, but I despise the taste and smell of alcohol. My parents are disappointed.
18.I’m an amateur-art fiend. I love to cruise art sites to drool over the pretty pictures.
19.I’m a Doctor Who/Torchwood/Joss Whedon/Sci-Fi addict. I will watch anything on the sci-fi channel, regardless of quality.
20.However, I refuse to enjoy Star Wars. Sanctuary is a less painful watch…
21.I adore the work of Brian Fuller. Someone needs to give him a big kiss and a medal.
22.My favorite book EVER is Good Omens. Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett need to co-author more often. Much more often.
23.I wish to see and do so many things. I want to travel the world and soak in the different cultures and people.
24.That said, I think the idea of taking a cruise or doing a travel tour is a direct insult to the idea of exploring another country. I think people who believe the only way to travel is with other people just like them should just stay home. Why waste the money?
25.I love camping, hiking, and the rush of seeing the view from the top of a mountain I’ve just conquered (both literally and figuratively speaking).
NOTE: This is a very long, drawn out explanation of what's happened. Fell free to skip bits and pieces...
So, for the past month, an exchange student has been living with us. AFS needed a place for one of their students, a boy from Japan, who was supposedly having problems with his host family and school. They believed that where 3 other families had failed we would succeed in giving Tomo a loving, caring home.
We are either a really crappy family, with some serious denial issues, or Tomo just doesn't know what it means to live abroad.
Granted, I'm bias. This is my family we're speaking of, so I already feel that the sun revolves around them. But considering how our previous exchange student (Mizuho ^_^) made an effort to come back and visit after her stay with us, I can't imagine that we're all that bad. My family's not traditional, in the sense that we do a lot together. Meals, the occasional tennis match, sunday breakfast, shopping, philosophical debates... My parents put into practice the philosophy that a positive living relationship requires effective communication. And it works for us. Aside from the occasional squabble, we get along great, and Mizuho, when she was living here, seemed to enjoy our wacky ways.
We knew from the start that Tomo wouldn't be like her. Mizuho is the odd duck of Japanese society; confident, outgoing, adventurous, curious, passionate about learning. Tomo was more shy, quiet, and withdrawn. Also, he couldn't speak English very well, but we figured that with time and a little practice, he'd soon be on his way to understanding even my brother's sarcastic comments. I personally was excited to have someone to practice my Japanese with, and figured it would be a good way for him to practice his English.
There were some significant changes to our living arrangements, which may or may not have contributed to the later problems. First, my brother and I are no longer in High School, and so our daily schedules are far more varied than they were before. Also, by being in college, I wasn't able to see how Tomo was adjusting to NHS, though I figured he was safe in the capable hands of Sensei. Secondly, we put the spare computer in Tomo's room, because we'd had to move some things around when making space for him. Before, we 'kids' had had to share time on that one computer, and it had been out in the hallway, not in a private bedroom. Third, at first there was no limit to the amount of computer use. When I was in High School, my brother, Mizuho, and I could only stay on until 10pm, after which we would have to ask permission if we had a school assignment. Fourth, we let a few things slide here and there when he first moved in, mostly with the idea that he was merely adjusting.
Our biggest mistake was perhaps assuming that he was honest with us.
See, things started to go downhill when my mom brought up the fact that Tomo's late night activities were keeping her awake. The straw that broke the proverbial camel was when he apparantly went into the kitchen in the middle of the night and spent a good amount of time eating ice cream. The kitchen is next to my parents' bedroom, and as my mom is a light sleeper, she spent that same amount of time listening to the clincking of his spoon, wishing he'd go back to bed. The next day, she sat him down and explained to him that loud disturbances after 11pm were not appreciated, because of our early schedules. She also brought up the fact that he never seemed to speak with anyone in the family, choosing instead to hide in his room and grace us with his presense only at meals. So that day, 2 new rules were put into place: There would be no noise after 11 (so reading, listening to music through headphones, etc was perfectly fine) and Tomo would have to attempt to actively participate in daily conversations with the rest of the family.
After a few misteps, a little more careful explaining, and a lot of hair tugging, the 'No Noise' rule was finally being respected. There were no more 11:30 showers, snacks, etc. Even my brother and I complied, making sure to remember to keep to quiet activities. But Tomo still wasn't talking. He rarely participated in meal conversations, except to answer 'yes' or 'no', and never seemed to come out of his room. Even on weekends, we wouldn't see him until 4pm. Unable to comprehend his need for so much sleep, my parents once more looked for an answer.
He was spending all of his time on his computer in the middle of the night. Remembering how it had been when my brother and I were in High School, my parents decided to set a limit on the computer, giving us until 11pm to be on the internet. Though this hindered my brother and I (especially when it came to our last minute assignments), we dealt with it, respecting that this was how it would be. Tomo didn't really comment, and seemed to accept it as well.
But he still wasn't leaving his rooms in the mornings. Finally, we had another meal discussion, where my parents emphasized that they didn't feel Tomo was doing much to improve his English by staying upstairs. After a seemingly successful conversation, during which Tomo ensured us that he would come down more often and seek out myself or my brother to converse with, we all felt that perhaps things would begin to get easier. But, naturally, they didn't. While fixing the computer, my mother found that Tomo was spending all of his time upstairs in his room on Japanese sites, reading and watching only Japanese. Since both my parents (and admittedly myself) belive that practice is the only way to learn a language, they informed him that if he didn't make more of an effort to converse with the family, the computer would have to go. Tomo said 'okay', and went on doing his thing.
This, by the way, occured at the same time as the 'Great Heater Debacle'. Since energy is expensive (which is a little silly considering that energy is quite plentiful), my parents have a policy that know heater can be above the setting number of 3. This rule has been in place since the first fuse was blown in our house, due to an overload of energy. Tomo was warned several times to turn down his heater. When he wouldn't comply, regardless of the explanations, the heater was taken from his room. Our energy bill for October had been double the amount of the year before. The computer, which seemed to be keeping Tomo in his room, went with it.
Tomo was obviously pissed. He spent his time with us being sullen and quiet, acting in the manner of a normal, sulky teenager. Then, on Friday, he didn't return home.
He was supposed to be going to NY on Saturday morning, and had been forwarned many times the week before to make arrangements to get to the train station. Friday, we learned that a woman was willing to let him sleep over the night before so she could drive him to where he needed to be. Only problem was, Tomo hadn't returned home after school, like we had all assumed he would. Though the day before he had stated that he would be heading out with friends, he hadn't informed anyone that this would occur immediately after school. I hadn't known this (I don't pay enough attention sometimes) and was a little surprised when I learned of this predicament. A phone call found Tomo safe, but the conversation soon led to frustration. My mother was furious to find out that he hadn't made plans for the next morning, though he'd apparantly read the email she had sent about talking to him about spending the night. When asked why he hadn't yet called the woman, he informed her he didn't know the number. When asked why he hadn't called the house, his excuse was the same: he didn't know the number. As an exchange student, he should have known better than to wander around, without our number or address, and without informing someone of his whereabouts. Needless to say, this exchange did not improve matters.
It also didn't help that Saturday evening, instead of calling my mother to tell her they'd all returned from NY, he took a ride back to our house. Meanwhile, my mother (always my mom...) had gone out to fetch him, wondering why he hadn't called. When he returned, my father had had enough, and told him off for it.
As this is important to what caused such a quick dislike for this boy, allow me to explain the scene:
My father is in his pyjamas, at the foot of the stairs, behind my mother. Tomo is looking down at them from halfway up. My dad tells him his excuse is bullshit, and everyone (except I) go to bed unhappy.
Later, Tomo told the AFS people that my father tried to beat him up. He also made up plenty of excuses about what happened that night, how my parents reacted, etc etc. According to him, my father attempted to beat him, but my mother held him back, as my father said, "Get out of here, I can hit him."
...For those who know my father very very very well, he may seem to cut an imposing figure, but he would never hit someone. In fact, I can only recall 2 incidences in which my father ever physically harmed myself and my brother (this is not including the numerous times I had my hand slapped for little things or our times at martial arts). The most recent happening was when I was about 16, and my brother and father were boxing. Things got too rough, and a few of the blows dealt held real intent, before it quickly ended. Needless to say, for the rest of the evening we made my dad feel awful over it, though at the time he sulked. And other memory is from when I was about 5 years old, and recieved a light spanking (along with my brother) for fighting too much with my sibling. Needless to say, that didn't discourage our misbehavior, but we were certainly more quiet about it.
In fact, what Tomo has neglected to realize is that, of us all, I am the most prone to fits of physical violence. As my brother would certainly tell, when extremely frustrated with another person, it takes a lot to restrain myself from smacking, hitting, punching, pinching, or biting them. My brother is a close second, willing to deal a blow only after provocation. So if Tomo had wanted his story to hold, he should have stated that it was I who attempted to punch him.
Also noteworthy, rarely would my mother act so meek and submissive to my father.
And yes, I finally admit it: Any physical violence involving me will most certainly have been provoked by me.
So, after learning Tomo's willing to lie in order to appear a victim, one can only wonder what else he's lied about. Was his first family really so unkind, or were they just unwilling to put up with his crap? Was Henry Wise really so scary, or was he just lazy and unwilling to attend school?
Regardless of his reasons, this blatant disrespect hurts like a mouthfull of cavities. It feels like he didn't make an effort to learn about us, to find out about our family, or even to learn about what it's like to live in the US. He acts as if his time spent with us was a waste, that he shouldn't have been expected to share chores, talk with us, or even comply to the rules of the house.
And worst yet, I can't say I'm sorry to see him go. I don't believe he even knows my name, an insult all on its own, and I don't feel like I know him either. He never bothered to share, even when prompted. I can't help but wonder why he bothered participating in this exchange program.
Whatever sort of American Dream he's looking for, I doubt he'll find it.
Hope, my brother, my brother's friend, and myself all went up on Friday to explore our first ever Otakon. The drive up was made delightful by our game of "Spot the Obvious Otakus" as well as Game-Day Traffic... We managed to find a garage, and then made our way to the lines. My brother and his friend joined the "We-Haven't-Bought-A-Ticket-Yet" line, and Hope and I went to the end of the "We-Were-Smart-And-Bought-Our-Tickets-In-Advance-For-A-Cheaper-Price" group. Hope and I made it into the convention center in about an hour, while my brother and his friend were stuck outside for nearly 2 1/2. I have proof.
However, they did eventually get in, which is really all that matters.
Otakon was amazing, and I've already vowed to go again next year. The panels were a lot of fun (especially the Q&A with the convention guests. It was supposed to be only four of them, but instead they all showed up. I never thought watching a group of voice actors fight for a microphone could be so entertaining...) and Artist Alley was amazing. I have never seen so many pieces of beautiful work. The cosplayers were also excellent, though I don't envy many of them. The best costumes seemed hot and uncomfortable. In fact, I figure cosplayers could be the love child between a ballerina and a model; suffering a little pain just to look good.
The best part, though, was learning that Otakus are some of the nicest people to have as an audience. During what I saw of the masquerade, not even the worst performance was booed off stage. In fact, the audience tended to encourage these performers, with clapping or the waving of cellphones and DSs. I was pleasantly surprised.
Which goes to show how bad my High School was when it came to appreciating another's hard work...
Otakon get's a definite cheer in my book, and I'll most certainly be returning again next year.
