Monthly Archives: August 2015

Shiny and Hip but Neither Warm nor Cool

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Man lives in the sunlit world of what he believes to be reality.
But…there is, unseen by most, an underworld, a place that is just as real,
but not as brightly lit… a darkside.
The darkside is always there, waiting for us to enter – waiting to enter us.Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight. —Tales from the Darkside opening and closing voice overs

Any writer will tell you that it is possible to improve something and still manage to ruin it. I’m afraid one of my favorite stores just did exactly that.

After the Ginza Blade Show, because I was in Ginza, I decided to stop by Itoya and check out its brand new building. I was disappointed that they went with a glass front building. That style is trendy in Ginza now and I thought it looked too much like several of the large clothing stores nearby.

The red paper clip in front of G Ito-Ya, the main store.

The red paperclip in front of G Ito-Ya, the main store. Very modern and very boring. The paperclip is cool.

That was a mild disappointment, but it was inside that really ruined it for me. The old Itoya was badly organized and to find something you had to explore the narrow passages between the stacks of different goods. It was dark and kind of creepy, kind of like an old bookstore where you’re always afraid the top shelf is going to give way causing you to die in a cascading failure of books.

(Note: Yeah, I understand the safety aspects of the design especially in an earthquake prone country. I just don’t care.)

The new Itoya is minimalist and brightly lit. On some of the floors I thought they weren’t finished moving things until I realized there was a method to minimalist madness. It’s an art gallery for a few select goods that are carefully displayed around the edges and at little islands in the center. The old store was the warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is being hidden.

The best thing about the store, in all fairness, was the notebook level. They’ve installed a kind of “bar” where you can mix up your own notebook and have it made by the clerk working the counter. (I believe they’ve copied this from another store.) They also have a table where you can sit and mark up dozens of sample notebooks and test the paper with your own pens. At some of the displays they’ve placed other samples you are free to mark up.

I took the opportunity to test the fountain pen friendliness of several notebook brands (more on that in a future post).

Behind the main store, across the alley, is K. Itoya which still houses the fountain pens and ink. I went there for a few minutes to look around. It, too, is laid out more like a museum than a store.

I bought a notebook but otherwise didn’t stay very long. I’ll go back another day when I’m in a better mood and feel like exploring all twelve floors a little more.

Note: I did not realize wine would be served later in the day. If I had I might have liked it more. 

A shaky panorama of the entire front. Impressive, but too brightly lit.

A shaky panorama of the entire front. Impressive, but too brightly lit.

Sharp But Not That Sharp

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I headed down to Tokyo for the annual Ginza Blade Show and this may be the first time I was underwhelmed. Mind you, it didn’t stop me from being tempted by a couple items.

Luckily, although the humidity approached liquid, today wasn’t mercilessly hot which meant I still had some energy by the time I reached the venue. I got there right before opening time and, because I’ve been to enough shows that I may now officially be a mascot, I was able to walk in as if I belonged there. This gave me a chance to survey the room before it started filling up.

The usual suspects were there and although I was tempted to buy a knife from one of them, that was part of the problem. All the same faces with all the same knives and all the same prices.

The most interesting knife had a handle made from old computer mother boards and acrylic but the rest weren’t that interesting.

This knife is really cool and only six-hundred dollars.

This knife is really cool and only $600. The handle shape makes it easy to grip, but I’ll bet it’s slippery when wet.

That said, there were a few interesting new trends.

First, a lot of the tables seemed to have discovered carbon fiber. Two of my favorite knife makers had knives with carbon fiber handles that looked great and were surprisingly light. I had a nice–albeit short–chat with Toshiyuki Miyamae who survived the Atlanta Blade Show this year.

(Note to the uninitiated: The Atlanta Blade Show or “Blade” is roughly the equivalent of Mecca to a knife knut, er, nut. Everyone must go once.)

Miyamae had a double bladed slip joint folder with heat anodized titanium bolsters and hand carved liners that probably cost well over two-thousand dollars. I’m still surprised he let me touch it. (He also let me take a picture of it that didn’t turn out very well. Sigh.)

The second new trend was accessories and knives made from interesting materials. There were sheath makers and a leather worker who also made leather bags and leather covered guitars.

The final new trend was women. This show had a lot more women than usual as it appears a lot of men brought their wives. I do not think this was an attempt to convince the women to buy and enjoy knives. Rather, I think it was an attempt to connect human faces to the knives. “Honey, if I don’t buy this expensive knife, that nice friendly man who just gave you some butterscotch will starve to death and die.” (Something like that.)

I’ll have to ask about that before the next show in October. If it worked, I might have to plan a day trip for She Who Must Be Obeyed.

This is early in the show, right as it started to get busy.

This is early in the show, before the women arrived and it started to get busy.

 

Resting at Peace by Surprise

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I actually got to enjoy a lazy day today and don’t feel guilty about it all.

I woke up with a slight headache that I suspect was a result of the “guerrilla” storm we got last night. (We didn’t get the official rainfall, but on radar it looked like a bomb going off over our town.) The sudden change in air pressure sometimes messes with my head.

I slept in once I realized I had the headache and then took my time going through my morning routine. She Who Must Be Obeyed went to work and our Oldest got to hang the laundry as part of her “part time job agreement” with the International Bank of Dad to earn some money she wanted for today. After that she got a haircut and went to club. (Long story.) Our youngest practiced piano and did her summer homework.

I spent the day doing very little and liking it. I played some games until I realized the headache wasn’t going to help me win then watched other people play games as part of a marathon gaming session to help raise money for Operation Supply Drop.

I managed to do a little work, but not much. Then I made dirty rice for me and our youngest . After that things got awesome.

 

Our oldest returned from club and then went to a local festival with some of her friends. She Who Must Be Obeyed returned home from work and then took our youngest to the festival. (For the record: she was not spying on our oldest.)

SWMBO invited me along but I declined and just like that, without any warning whatsoever, I was alone.

I fully enjoyed the time alone. Mind you, I didn’t do anything productive. I didn’t do any writing or any work. All I did was eat some pretzels and enjoy the time alone.

Tomorrow I’ll be off on an outing and will be around lots of people. Lots of knives will be present, too.

I Can See Clearly Now, More Or Less

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At long last I got a chance to the go to the eyeglasses store and get a proper pair of reading glasses. I’ll go back tomorrow and see if I can get the lenses modified.

Given my eye doctor’s darkened lair, I was surprised to have the initial tests done in a brightly lit mall in a store with modern equipment. (I do, however, miss the doll hanging by its neck from the ceiling.)

The sticking point was in trying to explain the actual distance needed for the reading glasses. I keep my home computer monitor about one arm’s length and a hand away my eyes. Unfortunately, my brain read that as a lot closer when I explained the distance to the lady putting the optical trial frame on my eyes. (For the record, I would totally wear a pair of glasses that looked like the trial frame. I’d wear them to school.)

She Who Must Be Obeyed went along to approve the final design and to help with any difficult Japanese. Oddly, we agreed on the design and then took the glasses home (after side trips to do some shopping).

Once I got the glasses home, though, I realized that although they are great for reading, I have to move the monitor close to use them with my computer. They also never tested my right eye with as much fervor as they tested my left. Because of this, I find the glasses work best with my left eye but not as well with my right.

I’m not too worried as I chose the shop because it has an adjustment policy that lets me go back twice in six months to get new lenses. I also may ask them for bifocals, which will cost more but which will solve a lot of problems (i.e. carrying two pairs of glasses).

Even in their current form, the glasses are excellent for reading. They may inspire me to read more, at least until I can get back to the shop.

 

 

You are Shaken but I am not Stirred

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There was an earthquake today. Everyone in the house felt it except me. In my defense, I was on my to the, um, the “reading room”.

Without getting into too many details, I got up from my desk to “go to the reading room” and She Who Must Be Obeyed started saying “Earthquake? Is that an earthquake?”

All I could say was “Hey, I’m not that heavy” and,after I realized she was serious, “I don’t feel it.” I studied our usual indicators: hanging laundry, the pull cords on our ceiling lights and any drinks sitting around. Normally, in a quake these things start moving by themselves. Unfortunately, there were no drinks out and, because of the time of year, we have fans and the air conditioner on which messes up the cords and the laundry.

It took the official alert on television to confirm that, yes, there was an earthquake. (For the record: I never doubted her; I just didn’t feel it.)

This, oddly, is a normal occurrence during an earthquake. Although SWMBO is much more experienced with, and sensitive to earthquakes than I am, we are about 50-50 in feeling them when the other doesn’t.

I find that I don’t feel them if I’m moving around. Several weeks ago a big earthquake hit as I was walking to the train station from work. It shut down the trains while the safety people checked the tracks. Later, I heard about it on the news and everyone asked me if I’d felt it. I said I only saw its consequences; I didn’t feel it.

I also tend not to wake up during earthquakes that hit when I’m sleeping. On several occasions I’ve woken up after them, with a vague sense that something happened, but usually when I was quizzed about the previous night’s earthquake I could only say “I didn’t feel it.” or “I slept right through it”. One colleague pointed out that my wife and children could have been suffering and dying and I wouldn’t have known and I was like “why would I want to be awake for that?”

That said, I should probably start using the alert system that sends an alarm to your phone and gives you a few seconds to get to a safer position. However, knowing me, if it hit at night, I’d probably just hit “SNOOZE” and go back to sleep.

The International Bank of Dad is Run by a Jerk

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My oldest is not happy with the International Bank of Dad. This is because, to her mind, the IBD president is rather unreasonably insisting she spend her own money.

She doesn’t realize things are about to get worse.

Because yesterday was brass band performance day, today was a day off. Our oldest therefore decided to meet up with her friend and go to karaoke at a place one station away from ours.

She first, however, tried to a get a no-strings attached grant from the IBD. The grant was refused and the shockingly handsome president of the IBD instead extracted money from her account and told her she could spend that.  He also, rather kindly, exchanged the loose coins for an actual note. This earned a huff and an eye roll but little argument.

(He also carefully explained the difference between “being home by 6:00” and “calling at 6:00 to say you’ll be home soon” and the consequences involved with the latter.)

Our oldest arrived home with fifteen minutes to spare and immediately began demanding money for tomorrow’s outing. Tomorrow she’ll be serving as an assistant at another battle of the bands. This involves moving chairs and serving as an usher. It also means she’ll need money to get to the performance hall.

Once again, she tried to get a no-strings attached grant.

The dashing president of the IBD told her she shouldn’t have spent her money today if she knew she’d need it tomorrow and tried to explain the concept of “planning ahead” but then remembered he was talking to teenager who’s concept of money seemed to involve , well, teenager logic.

The charming, yet humble president of the IBD then told her he’d advance her allowance to cover the expenses. This was met with a reply that reached an “Occupy Dad Street” level of outrage and obnoxiousness. Our oldest didn’t understand why she had to spend her own money on something that was volunteer. (In her defense, the distinguished president of the IBD didn’t understand why he had to spend his money on something that was volunteer either.)

In the end, the issue was left unresolved. There will, however, be a deal made. The IBD will front the money in exchange for two-and-half hours of labor (laundry, dishes, cleaning the kitchen, etc.) This is how long our oldest would have to work to earn the money the hauntingly good-looking president of the IBD plans to lend her.

She won’t be happy, but the alternative is doing the laundry, dishes and kitchen cleaning for free as a punishment.

 

Faultless and Moved to Tears

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Nothing brings tears to a parents eyes faster than hearing your daughter nail her piccolo solo at a contest. That’s what happened today and I suddenly had a speck of dust in my eye. So did she who must be obeyed. (More on that later.)

The rest of the day was me avoiding fault and being ignored and being given the wrong information.

Last night we hashed out our plans for the day. This usually involves me making suggestions and She Who Must Be Obeyed ignoring them. Last night, though, we seemed to be in sync and we agreed on having a big breakfast followed by snacks at the performance hall. We’d leave at ten-thirty or eleven and that would give us plenty of time to get the site. Instead of lunch,k we’d just snack because we’d have eaten a big breakfast.

The main sticking point was that, technically, I’m at work and there are things the company I work for won’t let me do before lunch (for example: send in the day’s work and fill in the useless form that accompanies the day’s work.)

Then, this morning, She Who Must Be Obeyed prepared lunch for our oldest which meant I couldn’t use the kitchen to make a large breakfast. I guessed that meant she planned on making the large breakfast. While I waited, I located the site and pointed out that the site didn’t have any places to eat nearby. I then started working on the day’s work and was informed we’d be leaving at nine-thirty, an hour before we’d planned. The “big breakfast” turned out to be a couple of onigiri (rice balls) which is the Japanese equivalent of two slices of plain bread with no butter. I snarfed them down and saved my work in a draft email so I could email it at the appropriate time.

We then got going, eventually, after laundry was finished (long story), and went to a different station than we usually go to. (From there we had to walk to a different station. Long story.) It was then my responsibility to get us to the station, which I did once I found a map.

When we got to the site, She Who Must Be Obeyed wanted to get a seat three hours before we needed one. I said I’d rather have breakfast, which we did (pizza and pasta because it was lunch time). That was followed by the traditional “finding of the seats”. This involves me picking a location that will allow us to see our oldest and then being left behind whilst She Who Must Be Obeyed picks a different location. This time there was a twist though as, once the second location was selected and I expressed my approval (keep in mind, I’m 6’2″ in a country build for people who are 5’4″ and there are very few seats that fit me so I’m fairly picky) SWMBO went to find different seats.

The new seats were box seats and were reasonably comfortable for me, but I knew right away we wouldn’t be able to see our oldest. (I was right and picked the best seat.)

Then the music started and after a few rounds it was our oldest’s moment. She nailed her solo bringing tears to both parents’ eyes. (We have a CD of it, and I’ll try to make a copy some day.). After that, I ran away so that I could “do work”.

In the end, our oldest’s band finished second–last year they finished third–which means they won’t be moving on to the grand finals and a television appearance. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

The Day Before the Not My Fault

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The best thing about tomorrow is that if anything goes wrong, it’s not my fault. Mind you, this doesn’t mean I won’t be blamed for it, but it still won’t be my fault.

Well, there’s one thing that might be my fault but it has nothing to do with the thing that won’t be my fault.

Tomorrow junior high bands from all over the area will arrive for a giant battle of the bands. Our oldest’s band qualified for the championship and has been practicing more than usual. We occasionally see our oldest and try to remember her name. She will be playing the piccolo which is exactly why we bought her a new flute. (More or less.)

Tomorrow, each band will dress up in their school uniforms and will have several minutes to perform their song (or maybe it’s songs, I don’t actually know, but it doesn’t matter because if anything goes wrong it won’t be my fault).

We are trying to decide if we want to stay for the awards ceremony. I’m happy to stay, even though it means another couple hours listening to other bands. I did point out, though, that we won’t actually be able to get near our oldest after the ceremony in the event she needs comfort or lots of high fives.

I have, of course, been trying to get our oldest to heckle the other bands by booing them or shouting “you suck!” or “booooorrrrrriiiiiinnnng”. If she won’t heckle, I recommended she flash a laser pointer in the eyes of the other flute players.

I fear she won’t do any of this, which is not my fault. I tried.

The most interesting part is that we won’t be able to film during the contest. I’m not sure why this is, but it might actually be televised, in which case I’ll do my best to avoid any cameras. Because we can’t film anything, there will be no camera disasters to blame on me.

The only thing that might be my fault is that technically I am working tomorrow and the company I work for won’t let me submit my work early. If I forget to send it, well, that will be my fault.

Nothing else will be my fault, though.

Boring Myself Silly With My Own Work

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This post is 18 posts too early–I’d planned to do it at the thirty month anniversary–but this blog dominated a good portion of my day.

My head hurts because of this.

I spent part of the day sorting the posts on this blog. It took longer than I thought and I only got through about twenty percent of them. (The whole time I was asking myself “why didn’t you do this as you went along?) (Answer: because.)

The sorting involved going back through all 529 posts, starting with the earliest, and assigning each a category or two. This seems simple, but it’s a time consuming process that often involves rereading a portion of the post. In a couple cases, I assigned a category based on the title and the lede. Then, just in case, I reread the post only to discover it was in the wrong category.

I also kept having to add categories, including a category (random) that is more a cop out than an actual category. (I might as well have stayed with “unassigned” the default category.)

The goal is to sort out the Japan related posts so that I can start cross-posting them at my once and future old website and to assemble the best ones as a book to give away when I relaunch the old website.

I’ve also taken the opportunity to edit a couple typos and clarify a few bits.

Along the way I’ve discovered a couple moments where I sort of, almost repeated sections (I think of those “call backs” and not as mistakes or self-plagiarism) and I also found a few passages that I didn’t remember writing. Luckily I enjoyed them.

 

One of the problems with looking back at your old work is there are only a few possible reactions:

1) Man, I really sucked at this but I’m getting better.
2) Man, I used to be good at this but now I suck.
3) Man, I really suck at this.
4) Remind me again: why am I doing this?

Mostly I’ve noticed the way the tone has changed. I’ve had recurring jokes that I eventually dropped (something like that) and jokes that changed (“something like that” started as in-line text and then became parenthetical). There were also themes that seemed to dominate the blog for a while and then disappeared.

I still have a stack of possible topics that I’ve been putting off and a list of photos I plan to take “some day” in order to add them to reviews. First I need to sort the posts. After that, the goal is to modernize the other site.

The problem then becomes do I do two posts each day or recruit guest bloggers for the other site?

Knowing me, I’ll fret about that so long I won’t actually update the old site. Problem solved, except for the worry.

 

The Best Laid Plains Get a Lay Over

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Every now and then I know what I should do, but something inside my head tries to stop me from doing it. Unfortunately, this usually applies to smart things and not to stupid things.

The stupidest thing, though, is usually the planning.

I spent the day kind of, sort of planning a bunch of things I’ve been meaning to do, especially now that I have lots of time and no real excuses, and I found myself encountering an odd resistance. One of the things I’ve been meaning to do is to set up my portable studio and take a lot of pictures of stuff I want to sell.

This one got pushed aside by a couple projects I’ve been putting off for longer.

First, this site needs some organizing and labeling, but as I pass 527 posts, the thought of going back through seems overwhelming as is the the thought of changing the permalinks for all the posts, which will require more work to make sure the links from other sites, including Facebook, aren’t broken.

That project then got pushed aside by the need to update my older website (which hasn’t been touched in a few years) and bring into the modern mobile age and thus leave behind the era of impressions in mud and smoke-signals.

For this one I tapped the vein of ideas I’ve already had for it and that created a rush of something that actually felt like panic. I couldn’t even decide, for a minute, which notebook to use. Normally, in these situations I click on a game and try to forget, but this time I tried to focus on what was causing the panic. Or, more specifically, the feeling itself, which reminded me a lot of how I feel whilst watching daredevils/fools casually prance around high places. (Warning not safe for, well, just not safe.)

I did manage to sketch out a few ideas and do a little research, but it’s mostly the kind of running in place I’ve done before. Lots of energy, but I still end up exactly where I started.

In the end, I realize I’m just planning to make plans and not actually accomplishing anything.

I might as well have just played the game.