Category Archives: Random

Nock Co Sassafras and Lookout–One Yearish Review

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I got a stack of pen cases about a year ago and two quickly became my every day carry cases. The others have sat unused–mostly.

The pen cases are from Nock Co, a small company in Atlanta, Georgia. I ordered their entire line–at the time anyway–of seven cases.

Several Nock Co pen cases. the Lookout is open at the back.

Several Nock Co pen cases. the Lookout is open at the back. The dark blue next to it is the Sassafras.

Although they are all well made, the Sassafras and the Lookout were the ones I liked the best. (Note: all Nock Co cases are named after mountains in Georgia.)

I started with the three pen Lookout but, me being me, quickly found that three pens were not enough. I started using the five slot Sassafras to carry a flashlight, pens, pencils and erasers. It opens like a book and has a pair of flaps to protect the pens from each other and keep them from falling out in a bag. Eventually I started carrying a different flashlight to make room for more pens. I even, and this will horrify some pen addicts, let the pens touch.

The Lookout with a meager three pens.

The Lookout with a meager three pens.

My full Sassafras load out.

My current Sassafras load out. See how some of the pens touch.

The Sassafras with one flap lowered.

The Sassafras with one flap lowered.

Of the two, the Sassfras has been used the most. I carry it to work and when I head down to Tokyo. I’ve been impressed by how durable it is. There’s a little fraying and I can already tell which corner will give up the ghost first but it looks in better shape than the much more durable Maxpedition Mini I used to use. Also, the Midnight Blue exterior doesn’t get as grungy as the khaki Mini did. (The Nock Co label, though, has begun to look a little off color.)

I was also impressed at how well it keeps the pens in place. I was worried that as it got jostled around the pens would fall out but that hasn’t been a problem at all.

The Lookout, because of the way it’s sewn, feels sturdier and feels as if it will keep the pens safer. It’s Steel exterior (Steel is a fancy word for dark gray) still looks good. My biggest complaint with the Lookout is that it can only hold three pens. It’s something designed to fit in your pocket not be flexible to all your pen needs. I use it mostly for pen overflow or as everyday carry on days I know I won’t need many pens.

The only problems I’ve had with the cases is the problem I have with all nylon products: they are not leather and will not age as well as leather. The dark color helps but I can see the nylon starting to wear and get slightly fuzzy. I looks like gray dust on the surface of the nylon. It’s also begun to feel a bit more floppy than it was before.

The Sassafrass could use a zipper to close it all the way, but I fear that would add the dangly bits I didn’t like with the Maxpedition Mini. (Note: Nock Co has been teasing zippered folios for what seems like several years now, putting the zippered folios in the realm of vapor wear.)

I still look at the other cases and try to think of uses for them. I may swap the Lookout for a Hightower that holds three pens and a small notebook. The zippered roll case Brasstown has become my pen overflow, temporary storage case, but I leave it at home and don’t carry it around.

I encourage everyone to check out the Nock Co cases. Even if you only have few pens you’ll be able to carry them in style.

The Sassafras carrying three pens and two pocket knives.

The Sassafras carrying three pens and two pocket knives.

Name Stamps Last Longer Than Memories

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I’ve mentioned before how I spent a year or so studying Japanese calligraphy and then stopped. Before I stopped, though, I acquired a few skills along with several brushes, paper, weights, felt pads, ink sticks and grind stones.

Most of that gear has either been thrown away, sold or, in the case of the brushes and the ink sticks, passed on to our girls. The only things I’ve kept are a couple seals.

In Asia, for lots of complicated reasons, the preferred method of sealing contracts and official forms is with a literal seal. The seals, known as “chops” in Chinese speaking countries, are called “Hanko” (判子) in Japan. (That’s “Han” as in “Han shot first” and “ko” as in “coke”.)

Every family, mine included, as an official seal for official documents as do most companies. (Actually, I suspect they all do.) The official seals are made by craftsmen and the hanko is officially recorded. As I understand it, every hanko is different, even those made for people with the same last names. Those are usually round and the coolest kids, depending on your point of view, have hanko made from ivory.

Mine are made from soap stone and are the more artistic versions. They were used to sign my calligraphy works (which are buried somewhere and unavailable for reproduction). Because I was in a “this is awesome” philosophical mood, I opted for kanji and then spent time working out a proper pretentious artist’s name.

The two hanko, my cleaning brushes and the cinnabar paste next to the final results.

The two hanko and paraphernalia next to the results on Tomoe River paper (top) and Japanese washi (bottom).

The larger version reads  旅人道延, or Tabibito Doen (the latter word is two syllables and pronounced very close to Dwayne). The high concept, which made sense at the time, was that since I was travelling, I’d use the kanji for traveler (旅人) and the letters for road/path (道) and stretches (延). Thus, the traveler’s road stretches (with an implied “into the future”.) This hanko was used on larger works (the paper was about a meter long).

The small version is only the letter “do” (pronounced “doe”) and was used on smaller works.

I don’t remember how much they cost, but I also acquired a couple cleaning brushes and a tub of cinnabar/vermilion paste which is a remarkable concoction of castor oil and vermilion powder and other ingredients that has stayed usable for over 18 years.

The cinnabar (or vermillion) paste with the ox bone smoothing spatula.

The cinnabar (or vermillion) paste with the ox bone smoothing spatula. Sharp eyes will notice a third stamp.

I was surprised, after a couple do-overs, that the placement of the seals was as important as the calligraphy itself. A perfect work could be ruined by a badly placed stamp or a smudged one.

I use them now to mark the backs of my notebooks. I could make the small one my official stamp, but that would involve paperwork.

I also acquired, as a gift, a hanko hand made by a student. It has his name Nakashima (Naka) 中 and Shima (しま) with the Naka around the outside as a frame. I mostly keep it because he carved it to look like the man in Munch’s “The Scream”.

My three hanko and how they look on paper.

My three hanko and how they look on paper.

I’m tempted to have it recarved and turned into my official stamp, but it’s the only reason I remember the student’s name. Instead I’ll keep in on my desk as a way to express my mood.

 

(Note: If you’re interested in carving your own hanko, you can buy a kit here.)

(Note 2: hanko are also referred to as “inkan” (印鑑). I’ve not been able to tell if there’s a difference as they seem to be used interchangeably.)

Absence Makes the Heart Go Paranoid

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She Who Must Be Obeyed, being a mother, talks a pretty mean game: she doesn’t care about our oldest; she doesn’t care what our oldest does; she doesn’t care if our oldest eats or not; our oldest absolutely 100% does not need a phone.

Then our oldest goes to Tokyo for a concert and, She Who Must Be Obeyed being a mother, changes attitude.

Yesterday I wrote about how I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing today. Then, finally, today I learned what I’d be doing today. Our oldest’s friend didn’t cancel which meant my job amounted to going down to the Ex Theater Roppongi at about eight o’clock and escorting the two girls home.

However, this meant the two girls would be going to heart of the largest city in the world by themselves. I was like “That’s cool. As long as I don’t have to actually attend the concert.”

She Who Must Be Obeyed, however, suddenly was concerned about everything and even gave our oldest her phone in case of emergencies. I entered Standard Daddy Crisis Mode which translates roughly to “Don’t worry about it.” However, that was met with things like: “What if there’s an earthquake? There have been three this week.” “What if they get lost?” “What if they join a cult?” (Note: that last one was mentioned sometime today but I’m still not sure of the context.)

It was suggested that I escort them down (I suggested otherwise). It was suggested I follow and spy on them (Once again, I suggested otherwise). SWMBO then noticed the tickets required those under 18 to have adult permission (I suggested that an hour after the girls left was too late to worry about such things. I also suggested she call the theater and check on that).

Eventually I made it down to Roppongi and did some window shopping. (Shopping in Roppongi sucks and what doesn’t suck is expensive. It’s an entertainment district on a shopping district.) It was a pleasant evening and I ended up sitting on a bench and doing some writing and some people watching.

At eight I joined several parents who were also waiting for kids. At first I was concerned as several men about my age walked out but they seemed to have some sort of official status. Then droves of girls walked out and met the group of serious looking parents.

In the end everyone got home safely and, as near as I can tell, no one joined a cult.

Finding Out What You Know is Not What’s Known

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There are unkown knowns, known unknowns, unknown unkowns and the information dad gets. In many cases when you’re a dad the unknowns become known long after you thought you knew what was going on.

In my case, I still don’t know what’s going on. Many of the knowns are unknown and the knowns don’t make any sense.

I thought that tomorrow I would be escorting a pair of teenaged girls to the concert of some animated tv program theme song singer. My job, as I understood it, was to be on guard if the audience turned out to be a bunch of geeky men about my age. I was eventually informed that, no, the man was actually popular with teenage girls and other young women which meant I’d be leading two teenage girls to a concert where I was most likely going to be either barred from entering (Sir, someone your age clearly has no legal reason to be here so we’re walking you out) or arrested for trying to enter (Sir, someone your age clearly has no legal reason to be here so we’re walking you out.)

At best a lot of people would be playing “Daughter or Date?”.

Now, if I understand it correctly, my job is to go down to Roppongi, one of the main party areas of Tokyo and fetch the two teenage girls at the end of the concert ( 8-9 p.m.) and escort them home. This job, for the record, still doesn’t seem to keep me out of legal trouble.

Cop–What are you doing standing here foreign guy?
Me–Waiting for the concert to let out so I can pick up a couple junior high school girls.
Cop–Why don’t you take seat right over there?

That said, I still might be going to the concert. If our oldest’s friend cancels, I’ll be responsible for taking our oldest to the concert and bringing her home safely.

My job, though, is still unknown. The only thing I know is, I’m not a big fan of concerts.

 

Mothers and Fathers and Embarrassing Greetings

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To rephrase a famous line from Dazed and Confused: “That’s what I like about these mothers, man. I get older; they stay the same age.”

Today was parent’s day at the school where I work which means 1) I wore a tie and 2) parents were free to wander in and out of classes at their whim and 3) many students suddenly denied three times that they even knew their parents. (When that happened several years ago, the mother, who spoke excellent English, promised, in so many words, that her son would be punished.)

One of the things I’ve noticed over my years as a teacher (approaching 26 years, in various forms) is that because my students are always the same ages, their parents are usually about the same ages. Seventh grade parents are in their early to mid-30s and 10th grade parents are in their mid-30’s . The problem is, every year they seem to look a bit younger than they are.

It’s the same reaction you have when you see high school kids and junior high kids and 1) realize how young they are and 2) remember how old you used to feel when you were their age. (You, of course, were a lot smarter than these kids. These kids are morons.)

Complicating matters, the mothers tend to dress up and do their hair and make-up perfectly as a part of parent’s day is putting on a show for other parents. This also makes them look younger than they are.

I only had a few visitors, one of whom may have been a homeroom teacher, because the biggest turnout happens on Saturday.

Occasionally fathers show up on a weekday, but that can be a mixed blessing. Today a father committed the ultimate sin. He came into class and after a minute of resistance, walked over and spoke to his son. The other students reacted with uncomfortable laughs and I felt sorry for them both. The father stayed for most of the lesson, even during the part where students wrote conversations. But then, after a while he seemed to get bored and left for a while.

It was during this absence that his son pounced, so to speak. One of my rules is that if you perform your memorized conversation on the day of the assignment you get bonus points. As soon at the coast was clear and the father gone, the son volunteered to do the conversation (his partner wasn’t as happy but did a good job).

I understand why the son did this, but kind of wish his father had been there. It would have made him happy and made him think more positive thoughts about me (the parents are allowed to officially evaluate us). Instead I announced those who already had bonus points to let him know he’d missed something by stepping out.

On the other hand, by embarrassing his son like that, he probably deserved to be punished a little.

Next year I’ll do it all again, but the mothers will be even younger.

 

Out of Habits and Back in Again

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I don’t know if it’s stress or the weather, but lately I’ve been falling out of habits.

I’m not falling back into  bad habits (although I do catch myself chewing my eponychium every now and then) I’m just suddenly not doing old ones. I’m also suddenly unable to start new ones.

For example, for over a year now I’ve been writing 10 ideas a day as part of daily practice to keep myself writing and, on occasion, come up with some good ideas. However, this week, and maybe because it’s June, I suddenly find myself three days behind my entries. What’s odd is this hasn’t been a result of procrastination–Look at notebook; I need to write my 10 ideas; I don’t feel like it right now; don’t write 10 ideas. Instead I haven’t been thinking about them at all. I only think about them when I see the notebook in the morning.

Similarly, this past week my daily log became a diary, which is exactly what I wanted to avoid when I started the project. Rather than make entries during the day I suddenly find myself making all the entries in the evening in one made rush. In fact, I’ll do that after I finish this post. I haven’t been checking the weather during the day and, by not making entries as I go, I find I use the same non-useful language for my entries. (Okay classes; Lazy evening; Etc.)

It’s the mindlessness of it that I find fascinating. Something I’ve done for several months suddenly doesn’t enter my thoughts. This blog remains a habit, although it’s crept back into the personal and focuses less on my hobbies, but I haven’t been able to move my writing time to a more reasonable hour.

It’s almost as if my psyche and my physical system both suddenly decided to reject the new habits by completely ignoring them.

This means tomorrow’s challenge is 30 ideas. If I think of it.

 

Babies Make People Insane

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There was a brief fit of madness at the school where I work today. Mostly from the women, but a couple of the men got involved, too.

Luckily, I knew what was about to happen and got to watch the madness unfold, albeit after briefly suffering because of it.

This only happened because I found a discarded or dropped memory stick in one of my classrooms and delivered it to the student office to be added to the surprisingly large pile of lost goods. (The pile is large enough that it reminds me of the large warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is secretly being stored.)

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get immediate service as one of the teachers had just brought his child to school. This teacher is currently taking paternity leave after swapping with his wife. (He wisely waited until after 2:00 a.m. feedings and the toxic Velcro poop phase were finished.) However, clearly being bored, he brought the young one to school. The staff at the student office both looked at me once, determined I was not carrying a child and quickly shifted their attention to the young one and adored him with squeaks and koos that reinforced my notion that babies make people insane.

(Note: the insanity is much different for the casual viewer than the actual parent. More on that later.)

After pretending to play along by making faces at the child, I was treated as a member of the tribe and finally able to deliver the lost goods. I went back to the office an mentioned to a couple people that the room was about to explode. (More specifically, I mentioned that the teacher was visiting and “with child” so to speak.)

Soon the child arrived and there was squeaking and kooing and the crowd gathered and even women who already have children were saying how awesome it would be to have one.

This, is the first form of insanity: mother’s, upon seeing someone else’s baby, immediately remember the cuteness and how adorable the clothes were but forget the 2:00 a.m. feedings, the toxic Velcro poop and, more importantly, the Terrible Twos.

Even She Who Must Obeyed goes through this. When she enters this phase, I play a recording of our youngest letting out a blood-curdling scream that sounds like it belongs in a scene from a horror movie where the baby suddenly stands up in her crib, lets out a blood-curdling scream and then eats her entire family who are so stunned by what’s happening they either freeze or run down into the basement.

If you think I’m joking, here’s the actual recording:

 

The men also found the baby cute and a few played with it.  This is the second form of insanity: playing with a child and thus exposing it’s undeveloped immune system to the germs of dozens of strangers.

In the end order was restored.

 

NOTE: Edited for clarity on June 2, 2015.

This Zone is Dead for Now

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If I liked baseball, I might actually have something to watch other than English detectives.

The end of football season (the violent chess US version) and the end of the college basketball season marks the start of a dead zone for me. Until the start of football season (and by that I mean the real season, not the useless pre-season) there is no sport worth tracking down and nothing worth keeping track of.  Instead of sports I’ve started watching A Touch of Frost, which is annoying in its own way (but that’s another post).

I’m not a big fan of professional basketball as I don’t like the way they limit the defenses and encourage endless scoring. This makes it just a series of wind sprints ending with baskets or a rebound. Also, pro-basketball doesn’t have that March Madness energy. Not fun at all.

Also, as I’ve mentioned before, to me baseball is little more than a bunch of people standing in a field watching a couple guys play catch. This is especially true in Japan where it is the only sport on television right now. The major networks in Japan all share broadcast rights meaning baseball is on TV every night and often preempts the few things I might still watch on TV.

There are exceptions to this: Any time there’s a major figure skating competition it will be shown on Japanese TV as will any major marathon in Japan or marathon relay. There are also a few interesting things shown on TV: major golf tournaments like the Masters’  and the US Open (these are mostly fun to watch to see the leaders choke on the last day). We also get to see international volleyball competitions, international soccer matches and any tennis event where Kei Nishikori is doing well.

Unfortunately, those aren’t as common as I’d like. Eventually, though, football and college basketball seasons start again.

Until then, I’ll keep watching A Touch of Frost and try to forget the lead character is named Jack Frost and is played by Del Boy from Only Fools and Horses.

Shaken and a Bit Stirred

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We got a two earthquakes this evening in rapid succession. The first was kind of humorous. The second started scaring us.

I’ve written before about how we used to get enough earthquakes that we got complacent, at least until the 2011 Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami, which made us get a lot more serious about our emergency plans and preps.

However, after several months, the aftershocks stopped and my sense is that we’ve had fewer earthquakes. We occasionally get a good shaker, but they don’t impress anymore. In fact, there was one last week when I walking to the station. I didn’t notice it and wondered why all the trains were running several minutes late. I didn’t learn about the quake until I got home.

Tonight, though, we had a small one that my oldest and I noticed. We felt a little shaking and noticed the pull strings on the ceiling lights swaying. She Who Must Be Obeyed and our youngest quickly turned on the news. This is a normal reaction. If I even notice the earthquake, I act as if it’s perfectly normal that everything is wiggling and SWMBO gets very serious.

A few minutes later, we got a bigger one. This one caused the ceiling lights themselves to rock. It went on long enough that SWMBO and our youngest got in the doorway and even I got serious and started eyeballing our emergency kits. After a minute or so it stopped but we are suddenly much more cautious.

Lately, even Kansas and Oklahoma have been going through a cycle of quakes. Although it’s fashionable to blame Fracking, the truth is much more ominous: earthquakes are more common in the Midwest than people like to admit (note, the data in the link ends around 1972).

The bright side is, at least you don’t have to deal with volcanoes. Well, at least not right now.

 

A Wedding with Bureaucracy but no Counselling

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Because of a wedding ceremony, my late grandmother left her church.

I’ve mentioned before how fifteen years ago She Who Must Be Obeyed and I had bureaucratic issues on the day we chose for our official wedding day. That was then followed by two more wedding ceremonies. The first ceremony, the one in the USA, had its own bureaucratic problems.

The original plan for the US wedding was reasonably simple. We’d play dress up and rather than a ceremony there’d be a reception, cake, presents, and sparkling wine of some sort. However, one relative or another insisted we be married in a church even though we were already married.

This seemed like a simple idea, and even I thought it was a good idea, but the Lutheran church involved wasn’t as impressed. They insisted we go through wedding counseling with representatives from the church. This counseling could be done in Japan with a local representative but SWMBO and I would be required to go through individual counseling not couple’s counseling. After my mom explained this my reaction was, and I believe this was a direct quote, “No fucking way.”

After washing my mouth out with soap at my mother’s insistence (as a requirement for continuing the conversation/remaining her son) I explained that all they were trying to do was convert SWMBO. I’ve been subjected to a religious “intervention” before (it’s part of the reason I’m more a supporter of religion than churches–more on that in another post.) and I wasn’t going to let that happen to SWMBO especially as we were already married.

After much negotiation on the US side of the issue, my grandmother threw her hands up and said “fuck this” (knowing her, she probably actually said that) and stopped going to that church.

Instead we went to a Methodist church where the pastor did everything she could (not a typo) to make sure we and She Who Must Be Obeyed’s family were taken care of.

No counseling was required, although there are days I think it might have been a good idea…

NOTE: Correction 5/27/2015. Originally stated we went to a Lutheran church when, in fact, it was a Methodist church.