Category Archives: Random

On Marking and the Happy Dance

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Some day I actually will dance the Happy Dance of Joy in the hallway, but that will probably be my last day at the school where I work and will probably involve lots of references to Johnny Paycheck, (although, technically, given my work situation, most of that will have happened before with some of it to come after).

(Note: the Happy Dance of Joy looks a lot like a fast version of what these ladies are doing.)

Today we gave back junior high school exams and that means I won’t have to see my worst class until September when autumn starts. Adding insult to insult, my last class today was my worst class which meant I had to hang around until the afternoon to deal with them.

Fortunately, someone had threatened them in exactly the right way and they were surprisingly calm even though there wasn’t much for them to do. Although I was glad to be done with them, I wasn’t in the mood to dance. (Note: I am almost never in the mood to dance even when alcohol is involved.)

Passbacks involve getting the students sat down; writing some scores on the board; handing out answer sheets; handing out exams; correcting any mistakes; and handing out the speech contest print.

Today, for the first time in a while, I had a number of students bring up tests with marking and math mistakes. (Long story involving Japanese instructions and changed minds and bad powers of observation.) I corrected a few mistakes which led to a rush of people trying to lobby that something was a mistake. Complicating the issue is that this test is the only test where I actually mark the long writing. In the future I will just read it and give points. Today, though, I try to show how I mark by, well, actually marking.

This leads to students counting my marks and trying to match them to their scores whilst I try to explain that’s not how it works. A perfect long writing that’s off-topic gets almost no points. A long writing that’s long on coherence and mistakes will get a high score.

Once that was over I felt like doing the happy dance. However, if that’s going to happen it will happen at the end of the year when I never have to see the bad class again.

I probably still won’t dance because I’ll probably end up with some of the same students next year.

Some Days Are Brutal; Some Days Just Hurt

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A couple posts ago I passed 500 posts on this blog and recently they’ve been hurting.

Part of it is that I’ve been doing this long enough it’s become both a habit and a compulsion. This means I feel compelled to write even if I have nothing to say. Unfortunately, because of the habit part, it remains something I do right before I go to bed which is not always the best time for me to be doing it. Despite my notes and lists of possible topics, I still find myself staring at the screen at 10:30 at night trying to think of a topic. At times I’ll just start writing and see what happens.

This resulted in posts like Spelling in Translation (in my defense, I’d thought of the idea earlier in the day) and The Bad Timing of Wishes. The latter was an especially desperate topic which will, of course, result in a follow up post once the work is done.

A few times I’ve decided to do a topic only to suddenly shirk at the extra work involved as bed time approached. This is especially true of any posts involving pictures, which have to be posed, taken, retaken, uploaded, edited, fretted over, reedited, uploaded to the website and then surrounded with text to justify them. This sudden rush of laziness happened twice with yesterday’s post about the T-Kawai folder which was put off for “a couple days” and then “for a couple more days” whilst I thought about taking more pictures of it.

I also feel I’ve been shirking on the posts about Japan and life in Japan. I consider posts about work to be cheating as work tends to go through the same cycles and all I can do is put “it doesn’t suck as much as last year” or “it totally sucks more than last year” spins on them.

It also might hurt any “plausible deniability” I might need in the future.

On occasion my plan to move the writing to earlier in the evening has been a success, but then I slide back into my old habit of “Crap. I need to write a post but, Crap, I don’t have a topic.”

Heck, I’d even planned to do a 500th post post and then forgot what post I was on. I also had some doubts about doing one as I also consider the self-referential posts to be cheating.

That’s how bad things get around here in my head. I’ll tell you more about that on post 1,000, or maybe post 548 when I reach the 1.5 year anniversary of this blog. Or maybe I won’t. I won’t decide until the last minute.

 

The T-Kawai Lockback Prototype–It’s a Mystery

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Early last year I bought a knife. I don’t know much about it except that I’d like to know more about it.

I got the knife at the second knife show I attended. It’s a lockback folder made by T-Kawai. It has orange G10 handles and a 3.75 inch (9.5 centimeter) hollow ground drop point blade made from CRMO-7 steel. The overall length when opened is  8.67 inches (22 centimeters) but it is light for its size. It weighs only 3.42 ounces (97 grams) which means I have pens that weigh more than this knife.

The T Kawai partially opened.

The T-Kawai partially opened. You can see the damage/scratch at the top of the ricasso.

The CRMO-7 has high chrome content and polishes up nice. As I understand it, it was intended for use in razor blades but has become popular among fishermen and kitchen knife makers in Japan. When I tested the knife, I cut boxes until I ran out of cardboard in the house and it held its edge well and didn’t show any damage other than a few scratches. (For the steel geeks out there, it is usually compared to ATS-34 steel.)

Because it’s light, though, it feels kind of flimsy at first. Also, Japanese lockback folders don’t have that satisfying solid snap that most Western lockbacks have. That also makes it feel flimsy. That said, after my testing, I didn’t notice anything starting to come loose.  The blade didn’t shake open despite my best efforts to make it come open.

The long handle is well sculpted and I didn’t feel any obvious hot spots as I cut wood and other random items with it.  The handle may be a bit long for the blade (fully open it looks vaguely like an airplane fuselage)  but even people with large hands would have little trouble holding it comfortably. For its size, it’s comfortable to carry in the pocket.

A close up of the blade.

A close up of the blade to show the polish T-Kawai put on it. You can see the damage on the top right.

The big mystery is the knife maker, T-Kawai. When I bought the knife it was on sale for 90 dollars because it is a damaged prototype of a design he never brought into production. (Note: his regular knives sell between 180-300 US dollars.) There are scratches on top of the ricasso and the blade is off center. Even as I was buying it he dropped another ten dollars off the price.

I like the knife enough that I’m considering getting another. Even if I don’t, I’m interested in learning more about the knife maker. The problem is he didn’t have a business card at the time and he hasn’t attended any more knife shows. He was friendly, but he seemed disinterested by the entire knife show. He was scheduled to attend the last knife show I went to, but his table remained empty.

I don’t even know if I met the actual knife maker or just a salesman. Either way I’d like to tell him that even his damaged prototypes are terrific knives.

The Bad Timing of Wishes

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In our apartment we are suddenly getting what we wished for. Unfortunately it’s happening now, not later.

Our rental contract gets renewed this year which means we are expected to sign some papers and hand over some money. However, before we did that, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I decided to request either lower rent or a bunch of fixes.

The management company opted for the fixes, and then did us one better, albeit at a bad time.

First, we requested new tatami mats and new wall paper in our bedroom. Because our apartment is on the first floor we get a lot of humidity which isn’t helped by every room having large sliding glass doors that act as water condensers. Our tatami mats near the sliding doors have gotten moldy and and the wallpaper next to the doors has become loose and moldy. All that will be fixed.

Second, because of the same problem, the linoleum in the Variety Room got moisture under it and it came loose. Over time the wheels on my desk chair began to tear holes in the loose linoleum and I now have it covered with a couple sheets of plastic. The management company agreed to replace that, but I suspect they are going to do it in an ugly patch rather than fix the problem.

Finally, the screens on all the sliding doors have torn and developed large “bug doors” that make it easier for insects to get in and out of the apartment. We were going to take care of that ourselves, but the management company suddenly confiscated all our screen doors and they are being repaired.

Unfortunately this means that during the coolest early July we’ve had since I’ve been in Japan we can’t open our windows and enjoy the cooler air without hosting several hundred insects. Also, the management company are in a hurry to get all this done at the same time I’m in a hurry to finish exams.

We asked for it, now we’re getting it. We just wish they’d waited a bit.

Hurry Up and Wait And Wait Then Wait

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There was a train delay today that caused me to encounter into a train delay. I was also being clumsy so the delay was probably for the best.

At the start of July we finally got June weather–rain–but it’s been unusually cool this year. However, any time there’s rain, even though Japan has an annual Season in Which it Rains and a proper Rainy Season, there’s always a risk of train delays as certain train lines always seem to have delays as if there’s never been any rain on the tracks before.

This, of course, had to happen the first day of exams. However, on the way to work the only problems were mine. I was pouting at the rain and listening to music and didn’t notice the train signal and was surprised when barricade started to lower. Then I walked into the station with my umbrella still deployed and had to undeploy it before I got on the escalator.

Luckily, there were no problems with the exam itself, although I remain nervous during the listening test. There weren’t even any questions which is unusual as at least one person tries to trick an answer out of us (more on that in another post).

Then, after the tests were picked up and sorted, I found out that one of my students had arrived late because of a train delay and was taking the test in another room. I’d have to wait 20 minutes to get the test.

After the test arrived I headed home and as soon as I got to the station and saw the crowd of people outside the gate I knew there was a problem.

Someone had apparently committed suicide on the tracks about the time I left the school. If I’d left right after I got the main batch of exams I could have probably got home with not problem. Instead of hanging out by the gate I went to buy some pretzels. (Someone is dead and you are buying pretzels? Yes. That’s cold, dude, that’s cold.)

An hour and a half later the police had investigated and cleared the scene and the train finally started running. I had pretzels but didn’t eat them. I mostly napped. Which is also kind of cold.

You Don’t Mess With a Man’s Cookies

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(Note: I’ve got the nagging feeling I’ve written about this before but that may be because I’ve told the story before. I’ve searched former posts for it and haven’t found it but the nagging feeling persists. Sorry, then, if this is a repeat. If it is, I prefer to think of it as a revision.)

One night, when I was in Albania, I went to war with a mouse.

I don’t remember why I was in the hotel, but because it was my home away from home I must have been in the capital getting my monthly stipend. I also don’t remember why I had a box of cookies but they were either from a care package or I was returning to Albania after my three weeks in Washington D.C.

As I was going to bed I remember seeing a mouse scurry away. I didn’t think much of it because I chased him away. Then, in the middle of the night when I was either half asleep or half awake I heard something tapping on cardboard. I realized the mouse was after my cookies.

I turned on the light and picked up my bag. I swatted at the mouse but it did one of the best jumps I’ve ever seen. It leaped out of the bag, one hopped on the floor and flew into my pillow.

Because I was half-asleep or half-awake and was protecting my cookies. I picked up the pillow and tried to bludgeon the mouse to death inside my pillow.

I then got the brilliant idea of flushing it down the toilet. Part of my brain also felt I could contain it in the bathroom. I carried my pillow to the bathroom and tried to simultaneously bludgeon the mouse and dump it in the toilet. It his the toilet, hopped out and disappeared into the wall.

I moved the cookies lower and zipped the bag closed. Once I was convinced my cookies were secure, I went back to sleep using my bludgeoned pillow.

Some time in the middle of the night when I was either half asleep or half awake, I felt the mouse run across me as a kind of final “I’m still here, human” gesture. For some reason that didn’t bather me and I fell asleep.

In the end, because the cookies were saved, I considered that war a draw. I only hope I’ve outlived the mouse. If I haven’t, at least I got to eat the cookies.

 

Spelling in Translation

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Today’s post will have lots of bad words, but don’t worry, I’ll spell them so that young children can’t understand them.

The Japanese language suffers from two fatal weaknesses.

The first weakness is that the people don’t have middle names. This means as a child you rely on force of expression rather than the presence of your middle name to know you are in trouble. There’s a huge difference between “DWAYNE LIVELY! GET IN HERE!” and “Dwayne Edward Lively, get in here!” The latter doesn’t even need to be shouted.

The second weakness, especially if you’re a parent, is that because Japanese is a phonetic language you can’t spell words to hide them from your kids. Growing up in the USA all of us remember our parents spelling words to hide them from us. “That Kathy is a B I T C H.”  or “I think that Kathy is  P R E G N A N T” (often they try to use code to hide the actual words “I think that Kathy is PG.”) Or “I think that little S L U T Kathy is having S E X with that little S H I T Bobby.”

The problem is we eventually learn to spell and when we talk with our friends, we interpret the sentences as “My M O M thinks Kathy is a fucking bitch.” (Note, when you’re in junior high, “fucking” is attached to many phrases.) Or “My O L thinks Kathy got knocked up.” or “My O L thinks Kathy and that asshole Bobby are fucking.”

(Note: Kathy is a fictional character with a name chosen at random. Any similarity to an actual Kathy is unintentional and purely coincidental. Bobby really is an asshole, though.)

In Japanese, parents can’t spell the words because each letter in the alphabet represents an actual syllable in the word. For example if they spell “yariman” (slut) or “kuso ama” (unpleasant bitch) they have to actually say “Ya Ri Ma N” and “Ku So A Ma” which helps the child pronounce the words correctly rather than disguise their meanings.

I believe this is why Japan doesn’t have a lot of bad words and most of the profanity is implied through tone.

This of course, is why I want to teach Japanese parents English. I went them to be able to say “Y A R I M A N” and “K U S O A M A” rather than teaching those words to their kids.

Karas Kustoms Brass Bolt–Heavy, Man. Heavy.

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When all is said and done, writing with a pen and weightlifting ought not have too much in common.

A while ago, probably thanks to Massdrop, I bought a pen that looks awesome but is too heavy to use comfortably.

The pen is the brass version of the Karas Kustoms Bolt. The Brass Bolt (as I like to call it) looks a lot like an old school syringe. It is made of machined brass and holds a Pilot G2 refill–in this case a black .38. Like all Karas Kustoms pens it is well designed and perfectly machined. The worst I can say about the looks is that I can see the line where the two sections join.

This is a pen, not a syringe.

This is the Karas Kustoms Brass Bolt not a syringe. You can see the joining line in the middle. 

Rather than simply pressing the nock on the pen to deploy the tip, you have to press and twist. This, in theory, prevents the pen from deploying in your pocket or your bag and thus making a mess. Unfortunately, it also adds an inch or so (2-3 centimeters) to the length of the pen and throws off its balance.

I’ve written several sets of morning pages and my daily 10 ideas and each time I’ve found the pen awkward to use. The brass makes it 2.85 ounces (81 grams) which means it weighs more than my both my Tactile Turn Mover and Shaker pens combined (they are 2.4 ounces or 69 grams.) It also weighs almost as much as my Karas Kustoms Ink fountain pen and roller ball with the caps posted (3.6 ounces or 102 grams).

(Note: I never use them posted.)

The Ink Roller ball (top); the Bolt (middle) and the Ink fountain pen (bottom). All the weight is in the middle.

The Ink Roller ball (top); the Brass Bolt (middle) and the Ink fountain pen (bottom). All the weight is in the middle.

Because the Brass Bolt is so long and heavy I find I have to choke back on the pen. If you look at the picture above, I have to grip the Bolt next to the threads on the other two pens in order to get it to balance right. I also find that extended writing makes my hand and wrist sore. It’s also a thick pen, which changes my grip.

Once again, all the weight is in the middle.

Once again, all the weight is in the middle.

Also, although the bolt mechanism is an interesting conversation piece, it seems to solve a problem that isn’t that much of a problem. In all the years I’ve used and carried ball point pens–which, yes, I still often do–I never once had one deploy in my pocket. In fact, the only mess that ever came from a ballpoint pen is when I accidentally stuck one back in my jeans pocket without un-nocking it. (It left an interesting star pattern on my jeans and my leg.)

Although it’s a beautiful pen, and I wish I liked it more, the brass Bolt is not long for my collection. If I’m not comfortable using it, I won’t keep it. I’ve heard that the aluminum versions are much lighter and much more comfortable to use. I may try one of them some day and do a little more writing and a lot less weight lifting.

 

 

 

Tales of the Phantom Knife

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I sent a knife to the USA for warranty repair (because that’s the only place it could be done) and now the knife seems to have disappeared.

This wouldn’t be a problem except that the company, despite having an email contact form and a promise to replay to emails in four days, never actually answers any emails.

A little research on knife forums has convinced me that I’ll have to call them. This, however, bothers me for two reasons: 1) I hate dealing with such things on the phone and 2) the only times I can call are the middle of the night.

Combine those two things and the results are incoherent sleepy babbling (as opposed to just regular incoherent babbling) and lots of hastily assembled notes that have to be carefully organized and referred to on the fly and not always in the order they’ve been organized.

Then there’s the problem of hearing things correctly:

Them: What’s that tracking number again?
Me: LE22VB3359JP
Them: What?
Me: LE22VB3359JST
Them: What?
Me: Just answer your f@#king email.
Them: What?
Me: Lima Echo two fiver Victor Bravo Tree Tree fiver niner Juliet Sierra Tango
Them: Well why didn’t you say so?
Me: Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo You.

That latter sentence is another problem. Because I don’t like making such calls, I find I have very little patience during them. If I don’t get an immediate positive response I usually end up having an angry response. This is especially true when the knife arrived three months ago and I didn’t even get an acknowledgement that it had arrived. All I have is information from the tracking number saying it had been delivered.

Eventually I pick a Monday, get up early and try the phone call. Until then I need to practice meditation, deliberate breathing and counting to 10 before I speak.

Granted, none of that will make me less angry, but it might keep me from swearing, at least for a little while.

 

The Sacrificial Lamb Faces the Sacrifice

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Today I got to watch a person who was showing physical signs of stress try to wave the company’s flag for a few hours.

I’ve written before how the company I work for likes to send observer’s at the worst possible times. Today our observer arrived and we were shocked by a couple things.

First, it was only one guy. Usually we get two visitors, one foreigner with no real authority and one Japanese with slightly more authority. I do not know if that means the school where I work only gave permission for one visitor or if this was a case of symbolism over usefulness. (i.e. I’m here to show the flag and pretend I’m here to critique these people who’ve been teaching almost as long as I’ve been alive.)

 

Second, the observer looked stressed and even had physical symptoms of stress. We do not know if this is because of the less than friendly greeting I gave them this time last year or if there are other things going on behind the scenes (or both). Either way, we usually treat the foreign observers well because they don’t have much more authority than we do so I don’t think it had anything to do with us.

Third, the observer only stayed a few hours. Mind you, this is not a problem as nothing cramps your style more than having “the man” hovering over you at all hours, but usually, to make the trip worth his time, the observer stays longer than a couple hours. The goal is to get a feel for working conditions. (Which got worse as some “genius” at the school decided to lock the air conditioners at a surprisingly warm level. This may have driven the observer away, too.)

Then again, I like to think the observer was scheduled to be there all day but decided to take the afternoon off.

I hope that’s what he was doing.