The tragic misadventures of an American English teacher in England
I think I’m a bit read out presently. I’ve been trying to read…and my attention span just hasn’t been there. I think it may be due to the fact that I’ve been reading so much lately. Drat.
I guess it’s time to play with music. My aural sense haven’t been satiated in a while.
Today was far too pretty to go to waste so I decided to go out and do something. For one thing, the weather was temperate and not overly disgusting, and well, I have been saying how much I want to go hiking…
Which unfortunatley included navigating the damn railways…
Soofa bitch.
Lucky for me, it was a pretty straight shot to Akameguchi. I even got on a semi-rapid, cushy seats and everything. I usually take to reading on such an excursion, but instead, I decided to listen to Wicked.
There is something incredibly odd to me about going through a part of a mountain via train. Just sayin’.
When I got to the station, I had a LOT of time to kill. I got there maybe fifteen minutes after the last bus left. I really wish my Japanese was better. It was a bit difficult trying to figure out how to get to the start of the trail even with the page out of the Kansai Scene. For the record, the article wasn’t all that detailed.
On the bus, there were these ladies who looked all decked out in hiking gear, so when we got off at the stop, I asked them for directions. The younger of the two answered me in English, much to my relief. She said I could follow them. The entrance to the falls is actually past a bit of a small town commercial area — there are souvenir shops and a hotel thereabouts. I was very grateful for their help.
I paid the three hundred yen to gain entrance to the trail (about three dollars) and skipped the salamander museum. I got there a little after one o’clock, and I knew the last bus back to the Kintetsu Station departed at 4:00 PM.
How can so many wondrous things be in one place? I think I was on sensory overload. SOOO many things ran through my head as I tried to take in the surroundings: “Glory be to God for dappled things” as I walked through the sun-dappled forest…”Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the woods” and “My heart wants to laugh like a brook as it tricks and falls over stones on its way” as I followed along the waters. I wondered about how many people swam in the many pools I passed before the place became such a hiking attraction. I thought about how much I wish you could all have been with me as I picked my way up and down the trail.
Words cannot even capture the language being spoken to me as I traipsed around.
I took lots of pictures, though. They’re up on flickr. They seem repetative, I know…but…there was just SOOO much I didn’t want to miss anything!
Incidentally, if you’re ever up for this excursion, take the Kintetsu Line. Try and get a semi-rapid, but if you don’t, you want to take one going towards Aoyamacho. The buses leave for the start of the trail at the 55’s mostly, and return on the 10’s. Eat a pumpkin thingy from the really nice lady whose stand is right before you get to the entrance. I don’t even really like pumpkin and I thought it was tasty.
And if you miss the last bus, hoofing it back ain’t so bad. Of course, taking a cab may have been a wiser course of action, but I was not so lucky in that venture. Which reminds me, if you do walk back, watch out for monkeys. No, I’m not kidding. At one point, a guy stopped to warn me about the monkeys. They’re really kinda dangerous. I saw a whole mess of ‘em! I was lucky to not be attacked.
Hmmm…now that I think about it, every time I walk somewhere I’m lucky not to get eaten/jumped/etc.
Yesterday, I had a Golf student who requested an alternative lesson. One of the questions he had asked me was what was I reading.
“Well, I’m reading Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of the Five Rings and a book on the history of the alphabet.”
He was intrigued by my second choice of reading. I went on to explain how I love studying such aspects of English and I would be more than happy to give him brief lesson on historical linguistics. I don’t know if he was humoring me or what, but he accepted my proposal.
I hate that I wasn’t able to go too terribly in depth, though. I showed him a sentence in Old English (thanks Melany!), Middle English (opening line of Canterbury Tales), and explained really briefly the differences between Early Modern Englsih and Modern. I made it a point to explain about the etymology of the word “England” and “English” since he was going to be moving there for six months, and of course, gave him the most important date of all (according to Dr. Kim) — the Norman Conquest of 1066. I told him about the influence of Norman French on our language and some other choice pieces of information like some changes in orthography.
In retrospect, I probably should have explained a bit about the Proto-Indo European Language families and stuff, but let’s be honest, 40 minutes just isn’t enough time to talk about historical linguistics.
****
While I’m on the thread of linguistics, I’m finding other philologists hidden in Nova. One of the new girls, Kat, is Welsh (a language in which she is fluent) and we chatted up a bit about linguistics. We played the number exchange game and she hopes that we can meet some time for coffee and gush about language. She happens to be Braden’s newest interest. It’s quite amusing. He gets so embarassed when he’s around us because we’re usually nerding out about something like labio-dental fricatives and glottal stops. (”I mean, look. Here’s one that’s just “m” question mark. What the heck is that?”)
I also did a bad, bad thing. While I was in Umeda today I of course had to go to the bookstore. They had a copy of Yule’s The Study of Language which you better believe I purchased!!
I am such a nerd.
“Have fun with your other friends tonight.”
Phil said this to me today as I was leaving the floor. It was strange. I really didn’t think about it. This would be one of the first Sundays in a long time that I didn’t meet up with the Fight Club gang for dinner.
Today was Natashia’s birthday and she had invited me to celebrate with her and her friends. Part of me dreaded the thought. My experiences with her group of friends usually result in jessi feeling awkward.
But it was actually a blast. I was very sad to have to catch the last train and live “so far away” in comparison versus if I had access to a bicycle or a car. We surprised Natashia by showing up at her door instead of going out for dinner like she thought we were. Some of the people I met tonight were really fun and cool, we spoke geek and quote, and I found more Whedonites.
Natashia amuses me. She thinks I’m smart. If only she knew you lot, or hell, met my beloved heart-sister…she’d come to see I’m actually quite dull. She says I’m very passionate about things…now that, I can understand. Is passion a good thing, or a bad thing?
And she’s been aching for some practice…
It’s been a bit since we met for some sparring. Jacob and I met very briefly the previous Monday, but the Friday gig had been getting so regular that my body was positively aching for some practice.
While it has been established that I’m not one for drilling with the gents, I understand the basic principles and how important it is. What it all comes down to is a matter of pride. I can admit that now. I’m too proud to drill with them. My methods are different. My beliefs are also slightly different.
It’s just the way it is.
I was lookin’ for a bruisin’, this I freely admit. But I’d been reading The Book of the Five Rings and there’s this part of me that is beginning to adopt the mental prowess of swordfighting just as much as the physical. I don’t know if I can articulate this thought, but I feel like even though I haven’t practiced and drilled as much as I should, the mental exercises I’ve been going over in my mind’s eye have been helping.
This requires careful study, practice, and reflection.
Dude.
Jacob is my hero.
He set me up on a date with Eliza Dushku.
Freaking AWESOME.
I just wish I had been there.
The funny thing is, it wasn’t even my gorram dream.
Still pretty cool, though.
Hilarious. (smacks Grant)
I went to Kyoto last night to see a production of The Taming of the Shrew — funny how it takes living in Japan to really motivate me to see a Shakespeare production. Perhaps it’s because it’s not as easily accessible here…
Anyway, on with the show…
The theatre itself was more like a high school’s proscenium theatre. The pre-set was incredibly simple with a soft wash over the stage. The actors were already in places, “talking” softly on-stage.
Now, I admit, I don’t know this show very well, so I was duped. A chap wearing a David Beckham jersey was in the audience talking with people rather loudly. He seemed brash and so not the theatre type. He asked ridiculous questions and seemed to embarass most of the Japanese audience. As the time approached curtain, we were introduced to Sly. I had had a feeling that he was part of the show. I thought it was done rather masterfully.
The tech of the show was severely lacking, incredibly simple sets and costumes but the acting absolutely made up for it. I felt like I was at a madrigal dinner with all the songs that they sang in transition and in the scenes — such amazing harmonies and arrangements. The movement was also well done, although, knowing a little about it, how could the audience not see that it was choreographed. (Some of the punches and the like elicited some gasps from the audience)
I think perhaps the craziest thing to me was the audience itself. I felt so incredibly educated. Aside from the fact that the majority of them were Japanese who probably understood about thirty percent of what was going on, but the English speakers also seemed unfamiliar with theatre AND Shakespeare. (At least, that’s how it seemed to me) From where I was sitting, I could overhear some of the people around me and some of the things they were saying amused me. The guy in front of me was falling asleep me thinks. And the thing that REALLY threw me was the fact that they don’t clap. At first, I thought perhaps I was crazy but I’ve been conditioned to clap after the first half, y’know, right before intermission. Not a single person did. It was way weird. After so long being surrounded by contemporaries and usually knowing half the cast, I becamse accustomed to being the least knowledgable about Shakespeare and theatre. (Again, this is just from where I was sitting, maybe the people who were sitting closer understood what was going on, too.)
I got a close up look at their lighting equipment — they had color changers. Lucky bastards. I had wondered about the lack of gels in the ellipsoidals and then I found out why.
The show was done in comedia dell’arte costuming. It was pretty cool. I liked the masks. I really do wish they had been able to do more with tech, but since it was a travelling company, I could see why they didn’t.
It was definitely worth all the money I spent on it. Damn, I miss theatre.
They feel it.
I know they feel it.
The tingling that is so much a part of their being it’s a wonder it’s managed to stay dormant for this long.
I begin to pace lightly. I’m no longer concerned about how angry or bitter Meredith is. I can’t be. Not right now. They know what we have to do and yet they still take their time.
I do not call up, but rather ascend the stairs. I can hear them speaking softly.
“She wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t important,” Topher observes.
“Whatever,” Meredith replies coldly.
“We need to be together on this. You know that.”
“I know that, but does she?”
I come into view of the door. I make no indication that I have heard their conversation. I tap lightly on the frame, “We have to go.”
Meredith glares at me. Her knife belts are already in place. I do not falter.
She gives this one to me. “Let’s do this,” she growls. Grabbing her duster, she brushes past me.
Me Da heaves a sigh and puts on his own jacket. “We’re ready, Wildcat.”
“Tap in, Silverfox,” I say flatly.
I follow Topher down the stairs. We’ll have to deal with this later. Meredith is already out the door, her attention focused down the street.
“Tapped?”
She simply nods. “They’re moving,” she observes.
“Then let’s go to them. Viczen.”
The area in front of us begins to shimmer and a hazy picture of Boston Common comes into view. I don’t need to say a word as the three of us rush through the Tear.
Boston Common is littered with people. No one notices our sudden appearance, much to my relief. The tingling intensifies. Have you ever had so much energy pent up inside you that you don’t know what to do with yourself? Yeah. Kinda feels like that. It can be a real bitch sometimes.
“My, my, my,” Meredith muses, “aren’t we arrogant.” Her eyes narrow as she scans the crowd.
I can’t help but smile. Yes, it’s true. We took a certain amount of pride and pleasure in what we did despite wanting normalcy; walking contradictions that we are. Mer may have been the most reluctant of all of us, but she’s damn good at what she did…does…and she knows it.
“Five,” she informs us. Her brow furrows, “But something’s not right…they’re out in the open.” She turns to me, “What’s going on?”
As if I have the answer. I shrug, “We won’t find out standing here all night.” My reply does not satisfy Meredith and she frowns.
She says nothing.
I feel it too. Something about these Infected feels…wrong. Not that the ability to feel them was ever right, but this is bordering creepifying. No time to reflect, dumb ass. Get to work!
We fan out. Moving together as fluid as water.
Inconspicuous.
The crowd doesn’t really notice our movements. But we notice theirs. We’re professionals. We observe their body language, the way they interact with the people around them…all the things most people don’t pay attention to.
Infecteds may wear our faces but they’re not the same people they were when they came into this world, that’s for damn sure.
They move about with a blank look to them. To the naked eye, the Infected person just seems all kinds of pensive and reflective. We know better though. They’re mind is gone. It ain’t as bad as a zombie, I don’t think (although, to be fair, I’ve never seen one, so I can’t really say for sure) but there definitely isn’t anyone with an ounce of intelligence clambering about in the brain pan. That all went squish.
“I…I can’t get a read!” Meredith is frustrated. Hell, so am I. Me Da is the only one keeps his cool. He was always good like that.
Something has upped the stakes in this. This ain’t just run of the mill. This is something…
“Wildcat! Your position! Three o’clock.”
How the fuck did I miss that?
“Affirmative.” I walk briskly towards the target – no need to run and draw attention to yourself, dear. When I’m within range of it, I flick my wrist. “Tag, you’re it,” I murmur triumphantly.
The darts aren’t anything you’d really notice. Heck, a lot of things we do and use aren’t things you really notice. That’s the whole point. I wish I could say that it kills the Infected or something impressive like that, but that’s not what they’re meant for. They’re tags.
There are these lousy rules to all sorts of things. Upsetting balances, cosmic forces, fuzzy wuzzies or some such. Basically, they’re just there to make our lives a helluva lot harder.
The bright side of the darts is that they prevent the Infecteds from doing their job. Omni and Viczen are cool like that.
Meredith and Topher had tagged some of their own.
Two to go.
But where, oh wherefore art thou?
“Gotcha.” I zero in on one of the others. It doesn’t take me long to tag it. “Silverfox?”
No sooner than uttering his name, the surroundings begin to shimmer once again. Only this time, the people in Boston Common start to move in slow motion and then stop all together. They fade.
All except our pretty tags.
This isn’t like the incident in the alley.
This is a sweep.
Unfortunately, it’s a sweep without a gorram firearm.
All’s well, though. If we had guns it would only make things smooth. Heaven forbid things ever go smooth. Besides, this way is more fun.
Even though we don’t have the speed of a bullet, we’re still fast. Meredith has a deadly aim with those knives. She’s already taken one out.
Sensing the seriousness of their situation, the others begin to scatter. Now, I bet you’re wondering why the hell they don’t Jump. I know I wonder about it some. It just ain’t that simple for them. Their tickets are one way.
We’ve got the better travel agents.
Lucky us.
Some things just aren’t fair. Take this for example. We have weapons. They don’t. Sucks to be them.
Doesn’t necessarily make this easy picking, though. Like I said, heaven forbid things ever go smooth.
Infecteds are tricky creatures sometimes. They retain some human qualities so if you shoot ‘em they still bleed, slows ‘em down somethin’ awful and bullets are wicked painful. But that doesn’t necessarily kill them. Their strength is heightened, too, but I think you probably already knew that. What with the Chronicles and all.
“Heart or head, little girl,” Cap had advised. “That’s the only way you’re ever gonna put ‘em down.”
The one I’m chasing whirls faster than I expect and lunges at me. But I’m not exactly a rookie. Evading it is easy enough. Its momentum propels it past me and my wazikashi takes care of the rest.
They needed us back again why?
“Wildcat!”
Meredith’s urgent voice stirs me from my short lived triumph. I turn quickly. Soofa bitch! Where the hell did you come from?
Instinctively, I thrust my wazikashi towards the rushing Infected. It there’s anything I’ve learned about this sort of thing it’s that sometimes in the heat of battle you’re likely to do something stupid.
Like run yourself through on an enemy’s weapon.
But then this one does something new and completely different – it hurtles something at me that bears a striking resemblance to a knife.
Thank God for reflexes! I’m kinda bendy which really comes in handy. Don’t try this at home, kids. It can hurt like a bitch sometimes — especially when you execute the motion like a moron and miscalculate timing and the like. You’re likely to end up flat on your back.
Kinda like now.
Well this blows.
Bounce back, kiddo. There’s still an ass kicking to be done. Just don’t try anything flashy this time.
I’m not grounded for long. Can’t afford to be. I guess this one’s bravery was short lived ‘cuz by the time I get up, it’s running. Awww, don’t run. We were just getting started. And you made things all kinds of interestin’.
Damn, this sucker’s fast. Musta been a track star or somethin’. I feel Mer behind me. Don’t know why she’s trailing me, there are at least three others she could take her pick from and she wants mine?
Ow! FUCK! There’s this lancing pain in my shoulder. I hazard a look and see one of Meredith’s knives embedded there. Talk about being stabbed in the back. My pace slackens and I spare Mer a look. Her reaction is one of genuine shock mingled with concern and regret…it doesn’t last long and it quickly morphs into indifference. She shrugs.
“Losing your touch, Darrow?”
“I was about to say the same thing of you,” she retorts. Another knife sails past me and finds a home in the Infected’s back. That oughta slow it down some.
Gritting my teeth, I pull the stinger out and whip it at the already wounded Infected. Strike two! Ha! Mer isn’t the only one who can throw lefty.
It stumbles which gives me the chance to gain on it. It’s on its back looking up at me with…emotion…
There’s emotion reflected in those eyes.
I’m taken aback for a second.
A second too long. It realizes it has an out and attempts to flee.
I just react.
My right shoulder is wounded, but I’m still effective with my weapon. Well sort of. I made more of a Pez dispenser out of the Infected than a headless corpse.
“Sympathy for the devil?”
This time I’m the one glaring at her. She apparently didn’t see it. “Thanks for getting my back, love,” I reply flippantly, “couldn’t have done it without ya.”
“Uh…Wildcat…Darrow…little help here?”
Abandoning hostility for each other we rush back towards Silverfox, attempting to redirect it to something that deserves it.
“What the…?”
I turn to Topher. He falters. “Don’t think, Fox, just do it!”
I know what he must have seen. I saw it, too. Wipe those thoughts from your brain. We can suss it out later.
The buzzing lessens and disappears all together as Meredith finished off the last one. This took longer than it should have. We’ll have to work on that.
“Wildcat…” Topher starts, “there was something…”
“I know.”
“What are you two talking about?” Meredith asks. She goes right to work setting off the discs while Topher fumbles a little with the liquid.
“These were…different somehow. They were unlike any of the others we’ve dealt with.”
Something in Mer’s face flashes and then it’s gone just as quickly. Did she see something, too, and just hide it? She says nothing.
“Your shoulder okay?”
I blink. I didn’t even realize I was holding the wound. “Oh, yeah,” I reply absently. “Got a little careless.” I don’t say whether it was me or Mer who was the careless one. Maybe it was both of us, honestly.
Focus, Wildcat. Just focus.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly. Infecteds have never shown complex emotion before. They’re usually vacant of anything but a killer’s instinct. But the Pez Dispenser was afraid. I saw it in its eyes.
Swallowing hard, I get to work. Clean up on Aisle 12.
Once the corpses are taken care of, we head back to Netherfield. “Silverfox, Viczen, do your stuff.”
Cue pedestrians.
Cue Tear.
Action.
******************************
(shakes head) Seriously. Why do I even bother writing this?
“Bring on the Night” - 7.10, Buffy:the Vampire Slayer
Seriously. Timing sucks. Capturing it is just as hard. Sussing it out logically is pissing me off.
You’d think I’d remember “It’s just a story” but do I ever? Hell no.
Stupid timing.