“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s on your mind?” That phrase is seen by millions of people who use Facebook. Some take is literally, using their wall posts as a kind of diary. Others use this to make posts that generate a lot of attention towards them.

Personally, I don’t really like to use the social network service, but when I do, I usually try to be funny. I rarely post anything myself. That’s because I find that the times that I feel like posting, what I would post would be inappropriate for a public wall post. Most people don’t really want to know what’s on my mind. Only what is going on in my life, if anything.

So I guess that’s why I’m making this blog post right now. I know when I started this blog I thought that I would try to be funny, and tell funny stories as I lived my daily life. I guess now… my feelings have changed. I guess I just want this to be a place where I can post what’s on my mind, funny or not.

So what is on my mind right now? Well, I’m about to leave Sapporo, Japan, in a few days. And, although I didn’t make a lot of friends, and I really didn’t have a grand adventure, I’ve become quite attached. As the date of my departure grows closer, my heart grows heavier. The knowledge that I will be leaving this city, this amazing county, weighs down on me. I say that I’ll be back, that I’ll return some day, but what if. There are so many uncertainties, and I can’t help but worry about what’s to come. I also worry about if I can keep the relationships that I’ve made. I know I’m bad with long distance relationships of any kind, so I worry about this. Well, I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Adventures in Japan #2: Welcome Party

So, if I haven’t mentioned it before, the reason I am currently in Japan is for a required internship for my school program. And don’t get me wrong, this is what I was looking forward to the most for school. Who wouldn’t want to go to Japan? Even if it was for work, I didn’t care. I was going to Japan!

So before leaving, one of my friends who had gone to the same company that I was going to, told me a little bit of what to expect. One thing that he mentioned to me was the welcome party that would be held for me and one other fellow intern a couple things in. For most people this would sound amazing! But for me, it wasn’t that simple.

I was excited and nervous all at the same time. Being excited made sense, but nervous? You may think that I was just shy, but that would wrong. The reason was, I knew I would be expected to drink… booze. And in Canada, I never drink. I mean, it’s not liked I’ve NEVER drank any alcohol EVER, but I don’t normally do it willingly. I think the extent of my drinking before that was the odd wedding, or the few peer pressured times with friends. My lack of interest in alcohol is due to the way I’ve reacted to it in the past; instant migraine. Migraines suck.

That said, going to a place where drinking is the social norm worried me. Teachers and students assured me that I would not be forced to drink at the party, but I knew it would be rude not to. I knew I had to drink, I was not a girl (it is more acceptable not to drink if you are a woman, or so I’m told), so I was expected to be able to drink.

So the day of the party came a week and a half in. The location was the Sapporo beer garden. By that time I felt a little more at ease about the whole think, but I was not looking forward to drinking at all. But of course, it was unavoidable. As soon as I sat down, a large glass of beer was placed in front of me. I hate beer. As soon as the welcome speech was over, everyone cheered, drank, and started eating.

The party was all you could eat and drink, and the food was genghis khan (kind of like yakiniku with lamb). I think I would have had a better time if I actually ATE anything. I was told to eat and then visit all the tables to drink with them, but I kind of missed the eating part. Every time I would see a piece of almost cooked meat, I would move it closer to me so I could grab it when it was done. But someone would snipe it when I was in the middle of a conversation. EVERY TIME. I think I had 4 pieces of meat.

Anyway, someone at my table noticed that I didn’t seem to like my beer, so he asked what kind of drinks I enjoyed. “Sweet drinks,” I replied in terrible Japanese. So he called someone over and ordered something sweet. What came was a dark pink drink, and they called it something that sounded like “Cassie’s orange”. It looked super girly, but that never stopped me from enjoying a Shirley Temple, so I took a sip. I actually liked it! It was really good at washing the taste of beer out of my mouth for sure. So, with pink drink in hand, I went to go mingle with the rest of the people.

That was the easy part. I went from table to table, introducing myself, talking about whatever. There was one table I really enjoyed, that talked about things that were NSFW. But all in all I was having a good time. So good in fact that I was already on the fifth glass of that pink concoction.

By that time, I had returned to the “fun” table, and was ready for a good time. Unfortunately for me, my stomach did not agree with me. I had never been drunk before, but I’m sure that at that time, I was. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was past that. Shortly after sitting down, I began to feel queasy. I was up almost as fast as I had sat down; destination, bathroom.

I was okay for about five minutes, and then… Well, you can probably guess the rest. At least I didn’t waste any meat. I staggered out of the bathroom, and everyone asked if I was okay. A girl was kind enough to get me regular orange juice, but that little incident kind of put a damper on the rest of the night. That was until… KARAOKE!!! Awwwww yeaaaaaah!!!

So what have I learned? I learned a couple of things. I learned my limit, I learned what it is to be drunk, and I’ve learned not to drink that much again. Unless of course puking rainbows is my desired result.

Looking The Same

“All Asians look the same.” Many people know this phrase, and it’s usually taken as a light hearted joke among friends. Among those who are unfamiliar with the different Asian nationalities and cultures, I’m sure it can be very difficult to tell where someone is from. But, generally, for those who are familiar with that area of the world and its people, you can tell where someone is generally from. People from China look different from those who are from Korea. The same goes for many if not all of the Asian countries. Each country has something that gives the people something special, and generally people from a country can identify others of the same nationality. Unfortunately this does not seem to apply to me.

Now, I’m a Filipino, and I can definitely tell when someone is a Filipino, but almost nobody can tell by looking at me. Even other Filipinos! This strikes me as odd because I always thought I did. It can be funny sometimes to walk up to some Filipinos and pull out the Tagalog out of nowhere and see their reaction, but it gets old after a while. Pretty much all Filipinos mistake me for being Chinese, which is odd because a lot of Chinese people seem to disagree.

These mix-ups didn’t really bother me in Canada; it was something that I was more curious about than anything. But during my travels, it has been quite problematic.

Probably one of the most irritating things I’ve encountered is on the planes I took to Japan. My first flight was through Korean Air, mostly because it was cheaper than the other alternatives. “This is nice,” I thought, “Just me and another Filipino in a row for three, window seat, good movies, and decent food.” But then it began. Because my fellow Filipino was on the end of the row, he would get asked what he wanted first, and then I would come next. He was asked in English, which was normal, but then when she asked me it was suddenly Korean. And this happened every time. I’m sure that there are a lot of people on the planes to remember everyone, but every time? And apparently I looked nothing like a Filipino because the one beside me got English EVERY TIME. And the fun doesn’t stop there.

After making it through the terribly long flight to Seoul, I had to run to my connecting flight. This time I was seated next to an old Japanese couple, which was fine. This flight also had many Filipinos (we’re everywhere!). I thought that this flight would be better. I look nothing like a Japanese person. None of the Japanese people I’ve met in Canada have ever said anything of the sort.

Apparently I was wrong. The same problem thing happened on this flight. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was sitting next to Japanese people, but I looked nothing like them. The worst part was, when I got the immigration form on the plane, they gave me the Japanese one! I even asked for it in English!!!

Actually, I lied; the worst part was getting off the plane and lining up to the immigration desk along with all the Filipinos and then noticing them all having the English ones. AND they all thought I was Japanese after I asked them about how to get the English one.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve been asked on a number of occasions if I am Japanese, or of some grandfather was Japanese. I’ve also gotten shocked face reactions from people when I go to talk and they realize that I’m a foreigner. I’m sure I could use this to my advantage if my skill in Japanese improved enough. All I’d have to worry about is how to explain why my name is “Patorikku”.

Adventures in Japan #1: The Train Creep

So, as I said before, I’ve been meaning to vlog but can’t find the time. And although it is true that some of the things that I tried talking about quickly expired, stories never go bad. So I’ve decided to share them here! How exciting! So let’s begin on this wonderful journey.

It happened one morning on my way to work. I had only been in Japan for about a week so I was still trying to get into the swing of things. This particular morning I was feeling more lazy than usual and so I was running a little late. Although I’m a Filipino, and being late is nothing new, I don’t enjoy it, so I was trying to make the train in time. I briskly walked through the train station and went through the ticket gate with no problems. It was then that I heard the train arrive at the platform below me.

I had gotten into the habit of going down the stairs that are slightly farther ahead than the first set; only because it meant that I did not have to change direction (it takes so much effort!). But today I was in a hurry, there was no time for energy conservation, so I bolted down the first set of stairs and jumped into the nearest door that I saw. I managed to slip in just as the doors were closing. SAFE!!!

Feeling happy with myself I looked for a spot nearest to the door on the side that I exit from (I had learned that trying to fight your way through to the door at your stop from the middle of the train car was not very fun). I was in luck; there was one right next to the door. I walked up and casually grabbed the handle, and prepared to enjoy the ride.

On the opposite side of me stood a school girl who looked like she was doing some last minute studying for an exam (I deduced this from all the other students reviewing the same set of notes). What was strange was that when I snagged my spot, she uncomfortably shifted away from me. This made me ponder for a moment, but I soon dismissed it as a young girl being shy. That was, until a few stops later.

After several stops I noticed that the car that I was in was not as packed as it usually was. By this time I was usually sandwiched between two serious looking business men trying to get to work like me. But there was no one. No one near me anyway. I wondered if there was some kind of holiday, or if a bunch of people had the day off. Then I noticed the car over. It was full of the serious looking business men I had become accustomed to. That’s when the thought hit me. I didn’t want to believe it, but it kept nagging at me, telling me what I had done. Desperately I looked around, looked for something that would disprove this embarrassing truth. Instead I found the opposite. A big pink sticker on the window in front of me confirmed my fears. And it wasn’t just on the window; it was on the wall, doors, and outside of the car. How did I not see!?

“RUSH HOUR: WOMAN ONLY CAR”

It’s not like the women only car was something new to me. I had experienced it in the Philippines before. Also, shortly before leaving for Japan, a friend showed me a post from an American doing the same thing. I even told him, “Hahaha, I would never do something like that. It’s so easy to see what cars are for women!” How ironic.

How did this happen? Well it turns out that the first doors down the first set of stairs are the end of the women only car. I didn’t have to worry taking the other stairs because the women’s car ended before getting that far down the platform (that’s what I get for changing directions).

Immediately, a feeling of uneasiness came over me. I could feel the women’s stares, like judgmental daggers sticking out of my back, “pervert”. Plus, I couldn’t play the “stupid gaijin card” either. I’ve been told on many occasions that I don’t look like any specific kind of Asian, and more than a few Japanese people who had met me had asked if I was even part Japanese. To all those women on the train, I was a perverted Japanese business man.

So how did I cope with this situation? Not well. The American simply jumped off at the next station, but I did not have that option due to my time constraint. While most would simply slip into the next car and go on with their day, this did not occur to me. Instead, I slipped as close to the door as I could, made myself as small as I could, and looked out the window until my stop. To make things better, the door had a big pink sticker on the window as well, reminding me of my fooling mistake.

Arriving at my stop I jumped off that train like a horse out of the gates. It’s safe to say that I’ve never done that again. Strangely enough, I started using the first set of stairs from that day on, but now I make sure there are no big pink stickers. 

Can’t Say No To A Good Deal

For the past week the Steam Summer Sale has been in full swing. It has been a week full of great deals on many games that I’ve always wanted, but never had the money to buy. Games that are normally twenty to thirty dollars go for pocket change, and because of that my game library has almost doubled in size (mostly with those wonderful indie games that are so cheap). But although some would like the sale to go on for much longer, I feel somewhat relieved that it is coming to a close. Why? The deals.

              Wait, what? The deals? How could that possibly be a reason for wanting something to end? Especially after saying I was enjoying them so much. It is in that fact that I am glad this sale is ending. I find it very difficult to say no to a good deal, especially ones like “75% OFF”.

Growing up in a home where you’re told that you should wait for something to go on sale to buy it, and then when it does go on sale being told to wait till it goes even lower, kind of makes an impact on how you see sales (I mean, what Asian DOESN’T like a good deal?). Now, when I see a sale, I feel the urge to buy it, even if I don’t need it. And, if I miss out on one, I feel as if I had missed out on something great. And when you add the fact that Steam actually tells me how much I’m saving, how can I say no? “You get this game for $2.99 and save $12.47” Most people will see that and say that I would still be spending three dollars, I see that as throwing away thirteen.

But so what? How is that a problem? Surely you would think that once I am out of disposable that I would stop such shenanigans. Unfortunately that is not the case. My urge to “save” is potentially costing, more than saving, me money. All the two to three dollar games start to add up, and when there are new deals EVERY DAY… It has gotten to the point that I am rationing food so that I don’t have to buy more until next pay day so that I can safely buy something on sale. So as you can see, this sale is getting quite troublesome.

And don’t get me wrong, if food was 75% off I’d be buying that up like crazy. But food is not 75% off, so I will have to endure. I just hope I don’t run out of food.

I’m Not Crazy, I Swear!!!

              Everyone talks to themselves. It’s something that people do when they thing, something like self-reflection. But some people associate talking to themselves with being crazy, which I totally disagree with. I mean, sure, there are people that ARE CRAZY who happen to talk to themselves, but that doesn’t mean all people are.

              A friend once told me that the difference between the two was that normal people usually, if not always, do it in their head. This seems like a fairly reasonable explanation to me, except for one thing. I’m pretty sure I don’t fall into the first category, and I know for a fact that I’m not crazy.

Sure, there was this one time, when I was walking home from the bus stop and I was talking to myself out loud, when I noticed some people in the distance look at me funny (or maybe they were just looking in my general direction). And I said to myself out loud:

"I wonder if I think I’m crazy, talking to myself like this?

Huh, maybe, but I know I’m not crazy. Right?

Yeah, I’m not crazy. And so what if they think I’m crazy. I know I’m not crazy so I shouldn’t have to worry about such things.

Good point. I’m not crazy.

Yup, not crazy."

              At this point I was at my door and went inside, content that I was not crazy. And clearly, you can see that I am oozing with sanity. Not crazy. (´･ω･`)

Trying Something New

I have been living in Japan for just over two months now. Before that, I lived in the Great White North (a.k.a. Canada). Right before I left my life long home, I decided that I was going to start vlogging, and do it on a regular basis. I even made my first and only video. It was a mini review on the movie that had just come out “The Avengers,” followed by a story of what had happened to my friend directly after the movie. At the time I thought that it was AMAZING! I thought, “This is going to be huge! I’ll get SO many hits!” I even put “The Avengers” in the title in an attempt to get hits on key word searches. Alas, the video was only seen by a small handful and, honestly looking at it now, it was very... meh. I did get some helpful feedback from some friends who watched it, and wished me luck on the next video. The plan was to start making videos once I finished settling in. Let’s just say that that didn’t really work out. I did record a couple attempts, but I either didn’t have time to edit, or by the time I finished, the relevance of the video was gone. And so, there have been no new videos.

Which is what leads up to today, where I am two months in with no videos to speak of. Then, while sitting on my desk, I thought of something while writing a game recommendation on steam. “Why don’t I just try regular blogging?” So here I am, typing this up, and trying something new. Now I just have to see how long I can keep this up.