I went to Umeda today to sign up with YahooBB.
Soon I’ll be able to have a reliable connection.
Woot!
Now…to write!!
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Archive for March 13th, 2006
First, for those of you who don’t understand the dog food part of the title, please allow me to explain…
When Mark’s mom first came to the States, they had a certain amount of money to see them to a certain point. They went to the grocery store and saw canned food on sale. It wasn’t until later that they realized it was dog food. A most unfortunate side effect of being FOB.
Today, I got it in my head that I had to call home. The true story is that I needed to talk to Grant for reasons that shall remain “under hat” for the time being. I knew that my Brastel Card had maybe one minute left, so I thought, “I’ll just go down to Lawson’s and put more money on the card.”
The minor hitch to this plan was that I couldn’t find my phone card. “No matter,” said I. “I’ll just buy a new one.”
Clad in jeans and my drum major hoodie, I made the trip down to Lawson’s. I had enough money to purchase a card and my wallet. I didn’t think I needed my phone, so I left it upstairs. In an unfortunate turn of events, it turned out I did need Toshi (yes, I named my Japanese mobile Toshi).
I shrugged off the inconvenience and went back up to retrieve Toshi. The second trip down, the attendant helped me work the phone card machine, much like an ATM, and I aquired what I thought was a phone card.
Cheered at the thought of talking to a familiar voice, I attempted to use the number I was given. It cost me 3000 Yen, which tranlates to about $30. No big deal, right?
Wrong. Dead fucking wrong. In the process of obtaining this useless piece of paper, I had to enter my phone number thus registering the pre-paidness to my phone, press a few buttons, and pay. Instead of a card, the machine prints out a receipt which is to be given to the attendant. After she scans it, a piece of paper will print up which gives further instructions.
In the midst of attempting to follow the instructions, I came across a HUGE glitch. And no, it wasn’t because it was written in Japanese. The one benefit to this gorram thing was that it had English instructions.
Okay. Dial 1400. Done. Press “start key”. What’s a “start key”. Hmmm…maybe it’s just the “call” button.
Nothing.
*stares from phone to instructions and back again*
I’ll try this again. 1-4-0-0. Call.
Still nothing.
*furrows brow*
Oh hey, what’s this? Maybe it’s this number.
Okay. That’s big fat negative. Hmmm..the instructions say to dial this number AFTER getting to the menu. Well, I can’t get to the menu ‘cuz I don’t know what the start key is…but I’ll try any—okay, nope. That didn’t work. How about this?
Dammit. I’ll try this number again.
SOOFA BITCH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS A START KEY?!
Calm. Calm. No big deal. Okay. There’s a customer service number. I’ll try that.
Thus, I dialed the number and was connected to a Vodafone Help Desk. Thank goodness there was an English option. I talked to some nice chap and he told me that I needed to call the Osaka number. No big deal.
I had to confirm some information and then the nice lady on the phone explained to me that the gorram piece of shit number that I purchased was intended for one of those pay as you go phones, not for an actual registered phone like Toshi.
“So basically, I can’t use this number, right?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s not your fault. Thank you for your help.”
You have got to be FUCKING kidding me!!
I didn’t take my frustration out on the nice lady who was just trying to help me. Oh no. I had another person to direct my ire.
After twenty minutes of what I thought would be a quick and easy task, I went back down to Lawson’s. I tore apart my gorram room looking for my gorram Brastel card so this time I was prepared.
I swear the attendant must think I’m a fucking moron. I show her the Brastel card and say, “I need money on this card.” My voice is casual despite my brimming frustration and anger, not at her, mostly at myself…and Grant. Yes. This is all me Da’s fault.
Stupid Grant.
She helped me with the rutting PCM again and yet another receipt was printed for me. This one setting me back 2000 Yen. So pissed was I that I broke down and bought a pack of cigarettes.
Oh for FUCK’S SAKE…
Parliment Light 100’s.
Calm. Calm. It’s okay. It happens. These things happen. Goddammit Grant when I get a hold of you…!
ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE GRANT!!! FUCK!!!
Voice mail. Of-fucking-course.
Paraphrased from the actual message I left me Da: Grant! Where the *bleep* are you? Of *bleep* course you’re *bleep* not answering your *bleep* phone! *BLEEP*!!! Do you have any *bleep* idea how much trouble I’ve *bleep* just to *bleep* call you?! You *bleep*!! No, wait. That’s not true. I like your mom. I’m just *bleep* pissed. *BLEEP*!!! I even *bleep* bought cigarettes!! And of *bleep* course they’re *bleep* 100’s!! *BLEEP*!! I blame you. Sorry. Sorry. I know I’m just taking it out on you. I’m sorry. You’re swell. You’re one of my best friends. Which is why I feel that I can *bleep* call you.
After I left the message, I looked down at the call time. I swore at Grant’s voice mail for a good two minutes or so. Thank God me Da is so easy-going. Either that or he’s totally just Friends Off-ed me.
I realized, after I hung up and having been near tears at not being able to use the first “phone card” I bought, the real reason I was upset was because I missed having people who know me.
Laughing sardonically at the fact that I know I have over an hour and half on my Brastel, I called Mark’s cell.
I was thankfully connected.
I talked to him, to Scott, whose birthday I’ve only just missed, to Mike, to Chris, and eventually, yes, even me Da. “Um, I’m sorry about the voice mail,” I said a little sheepishly. My frustration and such was a little diminished, but the word “fuck” was still sprinkled throughout my sentences as I talked to various people. I even called Allison after I talked to the people at the Halfway House.
Who’d have thought an ocean apart really can make a difference?
Saturday after work, we had all planned to eat Nabe at AsianDays — that’s hot pot for those of you who may have forgotten. It was originally just going to be Darya, Evelina, and myself, but Braden, Tiara, and Valeria ended up joining us as well. Angela was supposed to come, too, but the wait was a bit longer than she and Darya anticipated so they took their leave of our company. I felt a little bad about it because I wondered vaguely if they left because the group ended up being much bigger than we had first talked about. (I was assured later that it was simply because Darya and Angela had had a rather big lunch and they wer both still quite full.)
It was a smashing evening. We joke that Braden is a either a pimp or he’s gay because he is always hanging around us. He’s a pretty easy-going fellow so he just rolls with it. Darya is convinced that there is potential between us and I roll my eyes and laugh it off every time. We’re all friends because we all had orientation together, nothing else. Besides…
***
Last night I had yet another fun and exciting evening with Barbara and her friends (thus written with only a hint of my usual sarcasm). Talk about an awkward evening. And for the record, it was a combination of true awkwardness with only a little bit of Jessi-awkward. It was a conglomeration of languages ranging from broken/fluent English, to fluent Italian, to broken/fluent Japanese, and some French thrown in for good measure.
Let me see how I can explain this…Sylvia, Barbara, and the other Italians (three other teachers and Aki, who speaks fluent Italian) obviously represented Italian; Natasha, Todd, Chris, Carmel, and myself were the English speakers; Laura and another French teacher spoke the beautiful language, and Aki’s two friend Maki and Machiko were our Japanese representatives. It was amazing to hear the French teacher, whose name eludes me, speak both French and Japanese (with little trouble), as well as Aki speak in flawless Italian.
I stuck to Natasha, Carmel, and Laura most of the night since we were sitting on one side of the couch. Maki and Machiko were also sitting close to us so we were having the most interesting conversations in broken English/Japanese/French.
It was an amazing dinner. There was three or four bottles of wine to go around, as well as bakery bought strawberry cheesecake, chocolate covered strawberries, mochi, and French chocolates.
Despite having spent time with these people on three separate occasions, I still don’t feel comfortable around them. For reasons beyond my understanding, I can’t shake my intoverted-self when I’m in their presence. Perhaps it’s the language thing since my dry remarks seem a bit lost on them. But I can’t help feeling a bit artificial. Barbara is just a generous person so it is her personality that prompts her to extend invitations to me. Evelina keeps asking me why I bother if I drag my heels so much when leaving to meet them, and I’ve asked myself the same quesiton countless times. My only thought is that it’s because I would like to try — I know it shouldn’t be a matter of trying…it either clicks or it doesn’t. But they keep inviting me places, so in my mind the polite thing to do is to accept.
However, if after more social occasions and I’m still uncomfortable around them, I will more than likely stop accepting.
When returned to my own apato for the night, I felt a little overwhelmed. All I could keep thinking was, “They’re not them.”
It made me miss our circle so much.
Maybe that’s why I called…
