Yes, I missed my weekly writing deadline, and for this I am truly sorry. But I have an excellent excuse. In fact, I have a heap of excellent excuses, distractions and justifications which I am sure you'll find scintillating. So here goes..
Knock Knock. Who's There? Nano
A few years ago a beloved friend said to me (I am paraphrasing because I can't remember what happened yesterday, much less specifics from 2009) "If you really love to write, you should sign up for Nanowrimo." After a bit of prodding for details and an internet search, I discovered that Nanowrimo is a yearly month-long pit of insanity where people sign up to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. In the month of November. It comes out to around 1500-1600 words per day. (www.nanowrimo.org)
Well, in 2009 I was busy teaching. And again in 2010 I was busy teaching. But now it is 2011, and I find myself with strange pockets of time that I previously did not have. So I joined Nanowrimo.
The idea behind all this mad writing is to learn how to just let the words flow--to let go of sentence structure and spelling and grammar and just let the novel FALL OUT, raw and untamed. After the 50,000 word limit is reached, then the time for editing comes. I am now nearly to the 10,000 word mark, and I am discovering that letting words FALL OUT is a lot harder than it seems. I never realized my real writing process involved endless retracing of my steps, editing as I go. For example, late last night I discovered that the REAL starting point of my novel actually occurred after I had already written almost 7500 words, meaning that most of what I had written will likely need to be tossed aside. But hey, the last 2500 words I wrote are simply fabulous.
I promise you, if I actually hit the 50,000 word mark, I'll let you all know.
Gobble Gobble
Yet another thing that has come up that is distracting me away from blogging is Thanksgiving. When we've lived in Japan in the past, we've hosted a few Thanksgiving get-togethers for various friends and colleagues, whether they be fellow Americans, from various far flung parts of the world, or from right here in Japan.
This year we have somehow managed to invite 12 people over for a pot luck. Lovely. I enjoy entertaining. However, my challenge is...TURKEY. To be more specific, the challenge is the absence of an oven. In previous years the price of the turkey was more prohibitive. This year, the 4000+ yen price tag isn't freaking us out as much as trying to figure out a way to cook the thing.
We currently do not have an oven (however, thanks to our Chicago-bound buddy Sue, this may not be the state of things for long. Updates later). Without an oven, cooking a turkey is a huge challenge. I could deep fry it (a suggestion made by one of my ultra fit, Iron-man competing friends), however I am terrified of setting myself and the whole house on fire. Another friend suggested barbecuing it, but barbecues in Japan are very, very small.
So we settled on grilled chicken. I figured that grilled chicken is rather like turkey. It tastes good with stuffing and mashed potatoes, and is easy to get.
Now if we can only figure out how to fit 16 people into our house.......
Overheard Conversations
This morning I got on the subway for the 15 minute ride to Kyoto Station, on my way to my Japanese class (where, by the way, I serve as comedic relief as I perpetually botch the use of prepositions. At least I make everyone else feel good).
There were ample seats available, so I sat down on a seat, just down from 2 children, a boy and a girl who were perhaps 5 and 7 years old. They were wriggling around on the seat muttering to each other and giggling. I ignored them at first. As they became more energetic and loud, I glanced at a fairly expressionless, very tired looking woman who I could only assume was their mother. She stared straight ahead, the picture of pained endurance.
It didn't take long for the two kids to become animated enough that I could overhear them. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud as I inwardly marveled how kids the world over find the same things hilarious.
(Please note: The following conversation involves the words poop and butt. Just so you know)
Girl: Unchi kochi. ("There's poop here"--which she says while pointing energetically at the seat next to her)
Boy: Unchi kochi ("There's poop here"--pointing with equal fervor)
Girl: Unchi kochi to kochi to kochi ("There's poop here and here and here"--lots of pointing)
Boy: Unchi, unchi, unchi ("Poop, poop, poop"--arms waving wildly around, voice rising)
Girl: Minna unchi. Minna no oshiri unchi ("Everyones poop. Everyones butt poop"--no pointing this time)
Boy: Hai, unchi, unchi, unchi. ("yes, poop, poop, poop" --he kept pointing at the people all around him, including at me).
During this conversation several older Japanese people came to sit next to the boy and girl, only to get up and move away to a new seat fairly rapidly after discovering their close proximity to the animated unchi conversation. Soon enough, the girl and boy crossed the aisle and sat on the seat opposite me, their feet banging loudly on the metal plate near the base of the seats. They repeated the previous conversation nearly word for word, laughing madly every time they said "unchi".
Throughout this enlightening conversation, the mother sat quietly, face calm, every once and a while a sigh escaping her. I totally empathized. I remembered all too well when Patrick and Aya were the same ages as her son and daughter when we came back to Japan, and I recalled conversations they had with each other which weren't much more intellectual than the one I had just overheard. And while I had had the benefit of my children babbling in English (and therefore not clearly understood by everyone around us), it made it no less insane for me as a mom.
Eventually the kids calmed down, just before the mother stood up to lead them off the train. The kids followed her, bouncy and chatting, moving on from their poop conversation to discussing foods they thought were gross.
Like I said, kids are kids, no matter where you go.
Until next time....
No comments:
Post a Comment