Show time!

Tonight is my last night at home.

This is very weird, because I've lived in Indiana for eight years--the longest I've ever lived in one place, by far. How ironic that, just when I stay put for a decent amount of time and build a sense of long-term familiarity, I choose to up and leave--to a place halfway across the planet, no less! Goodbye land of cornfields and Olive Garden, hello land of the rising sun!

Tomorrow Ma 'n Pa are driving me to Chicago for pre-departure orientation, which includes a training/brainwashing session in the afternoon, followed by an early dinner at a sit-down reception. This all goes down at a hotel, so while I'm seeing to my professional obligations in the discomforts of a tie and other biz-cas garb, my parents'll probably loaf in bed with their room service and watch Monk. Lucky.

We fly out Saturday at noon, and after a grueling 14 hour flight, we touch down at Narita International outside of Tokyo! We'll have three days of more training and orientation, along with several workshops. This sounds vaguely reminiscent of the student journalist convention I went to in high school. I skipped all the "workshops" to wander around the National Mall and eat at Chipotle. Hey, which would you choose: PageMaker Basics or barbacoa burrito bowl? The defense rests.

Anyways, Japan! At last!

I can't wait to explore my new environs: Shinjuku, the imperial gardens, gaming at the local geisen, Mos Burger, 100 yen stores, Shinto shrines, Nara and runaway deer, as well as the beach and Mt. Fuji, both of which are a stone's throw away from my future apartment! And don't forget the food: teriyaki, mochi balls, Kobe beef (!!!), raw fish in all its iterations, crackers shaped like koalas, green tea everywhere I go, rice-y beer, and so much more.

Overstimulating game shows, culture shock like whoa, 2000+ years of history, baseball fever, being a minority, Pokemon theme parks, everyone reading comic books, speaking a new language, festivals that put Three Rivers to shame, drinking parties with co-workers... (Which should be fun, as long as I don't pull an H.W. and ralph all over my boss or something. Bad cultural ambassador.)

Sumo wrestling! Getting lost! Hot springs! Japanese women! Tea ceremonies! Being the tallest person in town!

All starting in... 36 hours.


Hole. Lee. Crap.

Things I'll miss about home:

1. Access to a veritable bounty of free foodstuffs. Why, just today, I spent a good hour shoveling trail mix, salami, blue cheese-stuffed olives, Triscuits, pickles, Jolly Rancher gummies, homemade tiramisu and a leftover steak fajita into my consenting maw. Quite a contrast to my eating regimen last year at school... amazing how far you can stretch week-old pizza and breadsticks! (Tip: Be sure to keep your cheese dipping sauce--it conceals the wooden taste of staleness!)

2. American TV. Specifically, m'boys Conan, Letterman, McHale, and the other masters of timely humor. Not to mention The Mole, the sole reality program without contrived showmances or horse penis-eating contests. I'll miss my TV, but I'm barely concerned. Japan is known to broadcast some pretty wacky stuff, so I'm sure my boob tube-watching compulsions (as well as my capacity for the bizarre and brightly-colored!) will be satisfied.

3. My video game collection. Okay, honestly, whenever I think of what my prized possession is, my Super Nintendo is the honest answer. Just goes to show how nerdy I am, I guess (in case there was ANY doubt). I don't care. I love it. It was a cornerstone of my childhood. Unfortunately, I'll only be able to bring my handheld DS to Nippon, so I've been playing a lot of Super Nintendo games the past couple of days to make up for it, including EarthBound, one of my personal faves. It's a game whose plot includes piloting a flying saucer, finding a guy's contact lens in the middle of a desert, disbanding a cult that paints everything blue, and fighting a talking pile of vomit that controls a zombie army. I'm glad I have a game that's as weird as I am.

4. Canine companionship. The driveling duo's absence will certainly leave a void in my animal-loving heart, and it kind of weirds me out that Fenway will have doubled in size by the time I see him next. Too bad he can't stay a puppy forever, because he is gosh-darned adorable. He has such a characteristic walk--he looks around as he plods slowly and deliberately, kind of like Rudolph and other four-legged characters in Rankin/Bass stop-motion Christmas specials. Kawaii! Maybe my dad can dress up like Burl Ives's snowman character and sing "Silver and Gold," or act like our house like is the North Pole. "If I live to be 100, our puppy'll still be pissing on the kitchen tile..."

5. Those people I live with. Aww.

One week.

Time is of the essence at this point, so I need to get on top of my shiz.

There's lots to do, including packing, which sucks, because I've always been pretty bad at it.  I usually just manhandle the contents into the suitcase, and if the item's too big to fit, I crudely fasten the parcel shut with an extension cable and/or nail gun.  It adds an industrial flair that I really enjoy, making the bag a breeze to spot at baggage claim.

It'll be especially difficult to gather things in an efficient and organized manner, considering my room is a sty.  Seriously.  It looks like someone picked up some deer carrion on the freeway, slathered it in peanut butter, hid it under my bed, and then locked a coked-up, blind hyena inside for a couple of days.  That's what my room looks like right now. Clothing, Japanese flash cards, old Nintendo Powers, Garfield compilation books, high school history notes, basketball participation trophies and other childhood flotsam all strewn about every which way.  I should be cleaning or packing, but instead I'm watching The Soup.  Hey, lay off man, I need to get my fix while I still can!

10,800 minutes to go.  Japan beckons.

To Far Away Times

I always think it's weird looking into a mirror, or looking at photos of yourself--it's kind of like meeting someone you've only heard so much about.

That being said, looking at old photos is particularly weird, since the passage of time can be especially disconnecting.  You think: Am I really that kid with the tech vest and bowl cut?  My brother, for example, has certainly come a long way.  We found some photos of him in his kindergarten days, when he inexplicably wore a golden ankh necklace everywhere he went.  With his Bugle Boy Sport tee, Oshkosh athleisures and Egyptian iconography, he was the freshest 5-year-old on Belmont Lane.  He had the rags, kicks and bling.

In addition to the photos, he also found a journal he had to keep for first grade language arts, replete with cute, sounded-out misspellings.  Some choice excerpts: "September 22, 1997.  Day 24.  Today is Wensday.  Lambs have wool."  ("Day 24"?  Was he in prison?)  Or, "January 27, 1998.  If I was on the moon I wuld eat it.  Or eat Acklin Drum."  (Or Aiken Drum, I'd wager.)

It kind of reminds me of when I was in pre-school, and each kid had to submit an original recipe to a class cookbook that would be later distributed to each child's family as part of our "Thanksgiving unit."  Most kids submitted stuff like, "Mash potatoes for 5 minutes, then yummy time," or, "Cook turkey, say prayers, and eat."

My contribution?  "Pass around the snacks--then pour lots of drinks!"

I wish I were joking, but I ain't.  My parents were mortified.  Compared to everyone else, I made Thanksgiving sound like a cheap, bacchanalian sinfest.  Kids say the darndest things!

Auf wedersen, Herr Wagen

Tomorrow I bid farewell to my beloved German-made automobile of six years.  My dad is selling it to some guy who likes to tune up old cars (originally, his bar buddy "Mushroom" was our most promising prospective buyer), so it sounds like it's going to be in good hands.  Being a car nut, I bet he'll appreciate the built-in phone--a clunky, corded beeping thing that's an anachronistic sore thumb on today's hand of text messaging wonder phones and CrackBerries.  I'll miss the car, myself.  She served me well... even if it didn't have a cup holder, it did have a ski bag compartment!  Wacky Europeans.  It's all quid pro quo, though, because I'll be buying a car in Japan to make getting around easier.

Speaking of which, the big day is a week from Saturday, so crunch time is nigh.  And although I should be brushing up on my J-drama stars or practicing my seiza, I'm being more sedentary and unproductive than ever.  Here's my tentative agenda for the coming 11 days:

-- play with the pups/dodge their excrement in our beautiful, grassy backyard,

-- continue the Chrono Trigger DS countdown,

-- goof off on my new MacBook (thanks Mom and Dad!),

-- gorge myself on free, home-cooked meals, and finally,

-- NOT work at Lowe's.  Yes, I'm finally done with my part-time job!  Don't get me wrong--most of the people I worked with were all really nice (one girl gave me cupcakes on my last day!), it was the customers that made the job as fun as being keelhauled.  Just the other day, some guy cussed me out at the return desk, asking me why I haven't been applying tax exemptions to his purchases for the last three years (I worked there for six weeks).  I'd rather swab my ears with an x-acto knife than deal with those cretins again, but working did pad my wallet rather nicely.  Too bad I have to exchange most of it, and at the moment, the dollar is weaker than an oxygen-starved anemic.  It has to be done, though.  Besides, currency exchange just makes you feel so international, y'know?

Well, it's nearing midnight--time to feed the cichlids and watch Red Green.  Peace!

Pet Sounds

I find that playing music at night helps the new puppy fall asleep and stay asleep. Thanks to Comcast digital cable and its array of 24/7 music channels, Fenway is whisked away into dreamland in no time flat. It's kinda like those Lunesta commercials with the creepy butterfly. (Y'know, that radioactive-looking thing that flutters into open windows and hovers over people's heads for a few seconds, rendering them stationary and lifeless. My theory is that it steals their souls, but that's just me.)

I started out leaving "Light Classical" on for Fenway, but lately I've been going with "Soundscapes." Apparently the ambient backdrop of the New Age relaxes spa clientele and 10-week-old flat-coated retrievers. Go fig.

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41-year-old mom Dara Torres is going to Beijing to compete in the 50 and 100 meter freestyle. And this is after coming out of retirement. Amazing.

I'm watching the Olympic trials right now, and this woman is not only qualifying (for her fifth Olympic games, to boot), but she's also breaking American records in these events... while competing against people half her age! Makes me wonder if I'll be doing anything as inspiring or age-defying when I'm 41. I'll probably just be a skinny, lanky buffoon with the athleticism of Woody Allen and the coordination of a drunken giraffe.

...wait, that's me now? Oops... guess I forgot. Oh, well... I'm sure I'll still be able to hold my own in a Tetris Attack tourney, at least! That's a sport, right?

Oh, and I did some research, and it turns out Michael Phelps was indeed born son to Aquaman and a Dall's porpoise. For those of you who were wondering.

Guaranteed to ride up!

The Fourth of July is such an underrated holiday.

It's my third favorite holiday, behind Halloween and Christmas. Its activities are centered around multicolored explosions on a mass scale, for cryin' out loud--how can it not be one of our greatest annual traditions?

Every year I wonder how cool it'd be to go back in time to 1776 Philadelphia, and be in the same room as a sweaty Benjamin Franklin and the rest of the second Continental Congress, watching the Declaration of Independence be signed before my very eyes. It must've been an exciting time to be alive... y'know, minus the fact that 15 was middle-aged, video games didn't exist and women's armpits went unshaven. A trade-off, methinks.

My holiday weekend has kicked off with a mini-marathon of old Saturday Night Live episodes, culminating with the 25th Anniversary DVD. I was wondering, do any other countries have a similarly venerated, decades-enduring, late-night variety show that has produced some of their most well-known and prolific entertainers? If there are, I can't think of any. So, in honor of Lady America's 232nd birthday, I share with you one of her most beloved cultural institutions. Below are some of my all-time favorite commercial parodies from SNL's nearly 35 year long run. Enjoy!

So, God Bless America, e pluribus unum, and all the rest. Happy Birthday, USA. You don't look a day over 200. Must be all the Aveeno. Am I right or am I right?