Back Again (for the First Time)
First and foremost, welcome to my website and I hope you're at home and comfy.
No really, I hope you are at home because if you're in a public space I will feel self-conscious. I mean, anyone sitting behind you can see my face and profile and info and that makes me a little uncomfortable. Yikes. Go home.
I'm excited to announce that I'll be maintaining this blog on a regular basis. As it has become my job to promote myself, keeping this site current and active is a part of that. And maintaining a community of friends and other actors will be very important to my career. Just as important as my Japanese lessons and my acting classes.
So much in my life has been rotating and changing and evolving and I am growing more and more everyday. I am learning so much about myself as well as the entertainment industry here in Tokyo and I hope that I will continue along this path as far as it may take me.
Please join me.
Wen
14 August, 2013
02 March, 2012
Mobile Blogging
Finally, I can post without logging on from my computer. The chains have been broken and I'm free.
Although I'm sure this is not new technology. I'm dumb.
Lates.
Off to see...
Now that I've finally gotten that off my chest, I need to start talking about this new amazing opportunity. Up next, I will be performing in The Wizard of Oz, directed by Jonah Hagans. Jonah is such a visionary, in that he sees visions of a play no one else can imagine and trusts his team to make it happen. I like that in a director, someone who dreams big and has to scale it back (although I can see clearly how the more practical people such as the stage managers and producers of the world could be troubled by all this). It's why I admire Julie Taymor, to the chagrin of many peers. It's easy to fail, but at least fail while trying to fly.
In this production, I am playing The Tinman, which is possibly a cosmic joke. A few years back, in order to process a breakup, I wrote a poem casting myself as the metallic friend of Dorothy. It is common knowledge among my friends that sometimes I devalue emotion responses to situations, preferring to see the logical side and find rationale in seemingly irrational things. Thus I can come off as heartless. But I do have a heart, one so big that I need to protect it from the sharp arrows and knives of the world. So I think he is kind of an inspirational figure for me. And it is an honor to try to insert my feelings into a shell such as this.
I don't want to give away too much about the show and the look, as it will be undoubtedly "mindblowing" (since steam will erupt from the top of my head) but I will say that I had never heard of the phrase "steampunk" before this (although as a huge Final Fantasy fan I knew it existed) and I am in awe of what is to come from this show, visually with the talented team of artists working on it, and with some amazing performances from all. If the first read was any indication of how the show will be, prepare yourself for a hilarious and touching journey of four friends searching for their dreams in a land where anything can happen. Blurb.
We're off.
(PS: puns intended unless otherwise noted)
In this production, I am playing The Tinman, which is possibly a cosmic joke. A few years back, in order to process a breakup, I wrote a poem casting myself as the metallic friend of Dorothy. It is common knowledge among my friends that sometimes I devalue emotion responses to situations, preferring to see the logical side and find rationale in seemingly irrational things. Thus I can come off as heartless. But I do have a heart, one so big that I need to protect it from the sharp arrows and knives of the world. So I think he is kind of an inspirational figure for me. And it is an honor to try to insert my feelings into a shell such as this.
I don't want to give away too much about the show and the look, as it will be undoubtedly "mindblowing" (since steam will erupt from the top of my head) but I will say that I had never heard of the phrase "steampunk" before this (although as a huge Final Fantasy fan I knew it existed) and I am in awe of what is to come from this show, visually with the talented team of artists working on it, and with some amazing performances from all. If the first read was any indication of how the show will be, prepare yourself for a hilarious and touching journey of four friends searching for their dreams in a land where anything can happen. Blurb.
We're off.
(PS: puns intended unless otherwise noted)
29 February, 2012
Owari
I don't know why it has taken me two months to gather my thoughts on the subject. Usually one should sit down immediately after an event and chronicle it while the feeling is fresh. I guess for me, life was still moving too fast to catch my breath. During rehearsals and the performances, I was working, looking for a new job and a way to stay in Japan as my visa was expiring, decorating my new apartment with Goshi, preparing for my best friend's visit, moving out of the old apartment systematically- all of this simultaneously. There were too many life events happening and I couldn't sit long enough and focus on just one. However, now that my next show, The Wizard of Oz, is getting underway, I need to put kabuki to paper and prepare for my next challenge.
On the last week of August, 2011, we began our journey into the mystifying world of kabuki under the direction of Jon Reimer. Our first guide into the sacred art was Nakamura Matanosuke, a kabuki actor with the well-renowned Shochiku Company. We began as every journey must- with a single step. Literally, he taught us how to walk as different characters. Every Saturday morning, our group practiced walking as samurai, as merchants, as elegant women, and young maidens. Each week we continued to explore different points of kabuki, including how women of different ages refer to themselves (even down to the specific finger they use to point to themselves). We were eventually given a script from a famous scene called Shiranami Gonin Otoko, a tale about five thieves who are cornered by the police and miraculously escape. We learned to speak in the ka-buuuuu-ki rhythm and how to use our breath to support the strange throaty wails and tonal shifts we were not used to. Every morning I'd wake up with a slightly sore throat until my body became used to the change.
While we were learning the motions with our teacher's help, we were also studying the historical context of the world we were to portray. We spent one rehearsal discussing individual research projects, including the Meiji period of Japan as well as England during Dickens' lifetime. We learned that "A Christmas Carol" was actually released in Japan, however serialized. I discussed ghosts in Japanese literature and art, which was very helpful in understanding my characters and how they would look and behave in the play. It was our first bonding experience and we all gained a mental basis on which to support our acting choices.
Around October, we learned quite surprisingly that our sensei wouldn't be able to continue training us as he had become quite busy with his own performances. However, we were not prepared for the news that he would be replaced by a world renowned kabuki superstar who has traveled to several countries spreading his passion of the art. Our new teacher, Bando Yajuro, is a leading tachiyaku (or actor who specializes in male roles). Each week, he would further our kabuki movement vocabulary and was very active in correcting our form and further explaining the history of kabuki. I personally didn't realize how special this experience was until I actually saw my new sensei on stage.
In preparing for my onnagata (female) role, I studied many video clips featuring the most revered living onnagata actor, Bando Tamasaburo-san. Tamasaburo is art in motion and I would try to channel his grace as I practiced in rehearsal and with the help of Goshi's grandmother and sister, who are both skilled traditional Japanese dancers. When Tamamsaburo had a show open during our rehearsal period, I found it imperative I get a ticket to see him in person. And it was a delight to see my teacher as his partner. They are both members of the Bando family and as Yajuro-sensei is quite tall, he could actually pair with statuesque Tamasaburo-san. For me, to see my teacher on the stage with a legend was a warm reminder that I was privileged every Saturday to have this person coach me in the ways of kabuki. We knew starting the process that we were receiving a rare opportunity that most foreigners (and even Japanese) would never have. But to be trained by two well-respected and highly-regarded working actors who go on-stage right after our tutorials, that is a priceless experience.
Costumes and makeup deserve their own section. To begin, we knew it would be a daunting task to gather all the kimono we would need for the show. We begged, borrowed, bought and begged some more to borrow kimono from families and friends. As a lead, and a tall one, I had two of my costumes custom-made for me by the wonderfully talented Suzy Walker, aka Suzy Retro. She learned how to make kimono and hakama (the baggy pants typically seen worn by swordsmen) for me and Brian Berdanier, the actor playing Sukejiro (Scrooge). We were overjoyed with the amazing work she put into the costumes, but nothing could top my female costume. The magnificent and benevolent Giselle Camancho, who played Mrs. Kurachi (Cratchit) donated a gorgeous red kimono used for weddings. Suzy attatched gold accents to the long 'furisode' sleeves and train and then matched it with a flowing green 'obi' belt to make it the brightest star on the stage. I felt the femininity surge seeing myself in this gorgeous gown once the makeup was applied and the long unruly hair of my black wig topped my bald pate.
The makeup was the bane and blessing of the show. Done by the students of Yamano Beauty College, this was an excellent experience for them to learn a new style. On our first day to meet the students, our teacher Yajuro-sensei was on-hand to show the students how to apply the makeup. As a professional actor, he told us, you must learn to apply your own makeup from the age of 12. He shared his years of experience with a live demonstration before the students were allowed to try it on us. The student who did my makeup was sweet but quite nervous. As she didn't speak English and I don't speak Japanese very well, she worked in silence, constantly seeking approval from the makeup teachers. I mean, constantly. Which made me both nervous in her ability and glad that she was trying to do her best. It took her a very long time just to do one out of three of my makeup designs. As I played fours characters, I had to do quick costume changes, which involved makeup as well. So I needed someone confident and quick. During the show, I had other students rotate and work with me. But the last night, I was assisted by the very girl who first helped me. And I was surprisingly lucky! She had greatly improved, moving very quickly and making efficient lines. I never looked better on stage and I really appreciated her work and thanked her several times. As we were striving to get better through our rehearsals, so was the makeup team. I am very grateful for what they did to make us look good.
Not just makeup, but the costume, lighting, musicians, the props and scenery crews get special thanks for making a beautiful show. The box office crew kept things orderly during each sold-out performance, and the stage crew kept everything moving backstage. And that is not to leave out the director, who trained just as hard and learned just as much- probably more- about this art form and the actors who would come to each rehearsal with such enthusiasm and commitment to this daunting process. I made some amazing friends working on this show and I would be honored to share the stage with these people again. And while there were so many great performers and amazing scenes, I'd be remiss to not single out the star, Brian, as nothing short of brilliant. He carried the show and for me was a reminder of why we call the top-billed actor a lead. His hard work served as inspiration for all of us and I would try hard to follow his lead, as his co-star, to get my lines down quickly and practice as much as I could at home. I think we consciously tried to set a good example to the other actors who were not in rehearsal as much as we were. It was an amazing team and the show was quite the success, selling out a week before the show even opened! To this day I've heard nothing but great reviews and requests to remount in this year.
I was the first to express my doubt that a kabuki version of 'A Christmas Carol' would be any good. It's easy to conceive a cheesy mocking of an important art form in a country mired in tradition and ritual. However, the sheer dedication and passion put into this project presented the audience with a performance that was, at its heart, a true work of love and devotion to the art of kabuki. I can happily exclaim that I am proud of the work we did last December.
I will also be the first to say I would do it again in a heartbeat.
On the last week of August, 2011, we began our journey into the mystifying world of kabuki under the direction of Jon Reimer. Our first guide into the sacred art was Nakamura Matanosuke, a kabuki actor with the well-renowned Shochiku Company. We began as every journey must- with a single step. Literally, he taught us how to walk as different characters. Every Saturday morning, our group practiced walking as samurai, as merchants, as elegant women, and young maidens. Each week we continued to explore different points of kabuki, including how women of different ages refer to themselves (even down to the specific finger they use to point to themselves). We were eventually given a script from a famous scene called Shiranami Gonin Otoko, a tale about five thieves who are cornered by the police and miraculously escape. We learned to speak in the ka-buuuuu-ki rhythm and how to use our breath to support the strange throaty wails and tonal shifts we were not used to. Every morning I'd wake up with a slightly sore throat until my body became used to the change.
While we were learning the motions with our teacher's help, we were also studying the historical context of the world we were to portray. We spent one rehearsal discussing individual research projects, including the Meiji period of Japan as well as England during Dickens' lifetime. We learned that "A Christmas Carol" was actually released in Japan, however serialized. I discussed ghosts in Japanese literature and art, which was very helpful in understanding my characters and how they would look and behave in the play. It was our first bonding experience and we all gained a mental basis on which to support our acting choices.
Around October, we learned quite surprisingly that our sensei wouldn't be able to continue training us as he had become quite busy with his own performances. However, we were not prepared for the news that he would be replaced by a world renowned kabuki superstar who has traveled to several countries spreading his passion of the art. Our new teacher, Bando Yajuro, is a leading tachiyaku (or actor who specializes in male roles). Each week, he would further our kabuki movement vocabulary and was very active in correcting our form and further explaining the history of kabuki. I personally didn't realize how special this experience was until I actually saw my new sensei on stage.
In preparing for my onnagata (female) role, I studied many video clips featuring the most revered living onnagata actor, Bando Tamasaburo-san. Tamasaburo is art in motion and I would try to channel his grace as I practiced in rehearsal and with the help of Goshi's grandmother and sister, who are both skilled traditional Japanese dancers. When Tamamsaburo had a show open during our rehearsal period, I found it imperative I get a ticket to see him in person. And it was a delight to see my teacher as his partner. They are both members of the Bando family and as Yajuro-sensei is quite tall, he could actually pair with statuesque Tamasaburo-san. For me, to see my teacher on the stage with a legend was a warm reminder that I was privileged every Saturday to have this person coach me in the ways of kabuki. We knew starting the process that we were receiving a rare opportunity that most foreigners (and even Japanese) would never have. But to be trained by two well-respected and highly-regarded working actors who go on-stage right after our tutorials, that is a priceless experience.
Costumes and makeup deserve their own section. To begin, we knew it would be a daunting task to gather all the kimono we would need for the show. We begged, borrowed, bought and begged some more to borrow kimono from families and friends. As a lead, and a tall one, I had two of my costumes custom-made for me by the wonderfully talented Suzy Walker, aka Suzy Retro. She learned how to make kimono and hakama (the baggy pants typically seen worn by swordsmen) for me and Brian Berdanier, the actor playing Sukejiro (Scrooge). We were overjoyed with the amazing work she put into the costumes, but nothing could top my female costume. The magnificent and benevolent Giselle Camancho, who played Mrs. Kurachi (Cratchit) donated a gorgeous red kimono used for weddings. Suzy attatched gold accents to the long 'furisode' sleeves and train and then matched it with a flowing green 'obi' belt to make it the brightest star on the stage. I felt the femininity surge seeing myself in this gorgeous gown once the makeup was applied and the long unruly hair of my black wig topped my bald pate.
The makeup was the bane and blessing of the show. Done by the students of Yamano Beauty College, this was an excellent experience for them to learn a new style. On our first day to meet the students, our teacher Yajuro-sensei was on-hand to show the students how to apply the makeup. As a professional actor, he told us, you must learn to apply your own makeup from the age of 12. He shared his years of experience with a live demonstration before the students were allowed to try it on us. The student who did my makeup was sweet but quite nervous. As she didn't speak English and I don't speak Japanese very well, she worked in silence, constantly seeking approval from the makeup teachers. I mean, constantly. Which made me both nervous in her ability and glad that she was trying to do her best. It took her a very long time just to do one out of three of my makeup designs. As I played fours characters, I had to do quick costume changes, which involved makeup as well. So I needed someone confident and quick. During the show, I had other students rotate and work with me. But the last night, I was assisted by the very girl who first helped me. And I was surprisingly lucky! She had greatly improved, moving very quickly and making efficient lines. I never looked better on stage and I really appreciated her work and thanked her several times. As we were striving to get better through our rehearsals, so was the makeup team. I am very grateful for what they did to make us look good.
Not just makeup, but the costume, lighting, musicians, the props and scenery crews get special thanks for making a beautiful show. The box office crew kept things orderly during each sold-out performance, and the stage crew kept everything moving backstage. And that is not to leave out the director, who trained just as hard and learned just as much- probably more- about this art form and the actors who would come to each rehearsal with such enthusiasm and commitment to this daunting process. I made some amazing friends working on this show and I would be honored to share the stage with these people again. And while there were so many great performers and amazing scenes, I'd be remiss to not single out the star, Brian, as nothing short of brilliant. He carried the show and for me was a reminder of why we call the top-billed actor a lead. His hard work served as inspiration for all of us and I would try hard to follow his lead, as his co-star, to get my lines down quickly and practice as much as I could at home. I think we consciously tried to set a good example to the other actors who were not in rehearsal as much as we were. It was an amazing team and the show was quite the success, selling out a week before the show even opened! To this day I've heard nothing but great reviews and requests to remount in this year.
I was the first to express my doubt that a kabuki version of 'A Christmas Carol' would be any good. It's easy to conceive a cheesy mocking of an important art form in a country mired in tradition and ritual. However, the sheer dedication and passion put into this project presented the audience with a performance that was, at its heart, a true work of love and devotion to the art of kabuki. I can happily exclaim that I am proud of the work we did last December.
I will also be the first to say I would do it again in a heartbeat.
27 August, 2011
Hajime
Every story needs a beginning, regardless of how the tale unfolds. And today marks the beginning of our journey to turn a Dickens classic into a Kabuki World Premiere.
Cast back in June, A Kabuki Christmas Carol, written by Gary Perlman and currently being directed by Jon Reimer, had seemed even from the audition to be a mountain of a show. I knew going into the room that this show would challenge within us the very essence of what theatre means. Having been cast as three different roles, I was especially aware of the challenge that lies ahead.
However, meeting our sensei Master Matanosuke and having our first workshop with him was like seeing the mountain from its very base. And it will most definitely be a climb.
Our first lesson involved a reading of our second script, from the famous Kabuki play, Benten Kozo. I won't go into much detail about his vocalization (which is something you just have to experience) but it will take more than a few weekends to match the rich, resonant voice that came from this small frame of a man. It was very impressive and right away we knew we had an incredible talent in front of us. We all gave it our best effort, even those of us who are not fluent in Japanese and struggled to keep up. Maybe that was just me.
After the reading, we did some posturing and walking. We embodied a male townsman, a swordsman, a female, as well as their laughter and cries, and finally we learned a major pose, called a Mie. All of the things we practiced are things I will have the privilege of doing on stage. So I am grateful to have an opportunity to train in this style, a rare opportunity for a foreigner here in Japan.
As we continue the journey, I'll keep posting details and insights. I don't want to talk too much about the process alone.
This is only the beginning.
Cast back in June, A Kabuki Christmas Carol, written by Gary Perlman and currently being directed by Jon Reimer, had seemed even from the audition to be a mountain of a show. I knew going into the room that this show would challenge within us the very essence of what theatre means. Having been cast as three different roles, I was especially aware of the challenge that lies ahead.
However, meeting our sensei Master Matanosuke and having our first workshop with him was like seeing the mountain from its very base. And it will most definitely be a climb.
Our first lesson involved a reading of our second script, from the famous Kabuki play, Benten Kozo. I won't go into much detail about his vocalization (which is something you just have to experience) but it will take more than a few weekends to match the rich, resonant voice that came from this small frame of a man. It was very impressive and right away we knew we had an incredible talent in front of us. We all gave it our best effort, even those of us who are not fluent in Japanese and struggled to keep up. Maybe that was just me.
After the reading, we did some posturing and walking. We embodied a male townsman, a swordsman, a female, as well as their laughter and cries, and finally we learned a major pose, called a Mie. All of the things we practiced are things I will have the privilege of doing on stage. So I am grateful to have an opportunity to train in this style, a rare opportunity for a foreigner here in Japan.
As we continue the journey, I'll keep posting details and insights. I don't want to talk too much about the process alone.
This is only the beginning.
28 September, 2010
Xposted
Vox, my other blog, is closing down. So I've been trying to move some of my writings over before they do on Thursday. So if anyone actually reads this, good luck.
Wendell
Wendell
Everyone Else
And yet
And yet everyone else gets what they want.
I'll see to it
I'll see to it that everyone else gets what they want
I'll see to it, and yet
I cannot see what I want.
What is it that I want?
Maybe these five years back.
Five years is a long time
Five years is a long time to see that everyone else gets what they want and yet
I still cannot see the point
The point
The point where everything feels home
And everyone else feels like home
And yet I am writing from your bed, alone
You made your bed
You made your bed now I lie in it
And yet
And yet being home is the only time where things make sense
Because I can sense through blue eyes
This is the last sleepover because of everyone else
And yet I can see the paths ahead of me and everyone else
The paths are made of dust and clay that forms
Clay that forms from
The clay is made of vermilion dust, two parts dust one part tears
Tears from blue eyes
Not shed over you
Not over you yet (not over you, yet)
A record to chant, a mantra on repeat
These tears are not shed over your skin
I can shed your skin
And yet
And yet the red dust is comprised of human skin
So dust is a reminder of everyone else
And yet everyone else gets what they want, and with green eyes I'll see to it that everyone else...
And yet everyone else gets what they want.
I'll see to it
I'll see to it that everyone else gets what they want
I'll see to it, and yet
I cannot see what I want.
What is it that I want?
Maybe these five years back.
Five years is a long time
Five years is a long time to see that everyone else gets what they want and yet
I still cannot see the point
The point
The point where everything feels home
And everyone else feels like home
And yet I am writing from your bed, alone
You made your bed
You made your bed now I lie in it
And yet
And yet being home is the only time where things make sense
Because I can sense through blue eyes
This is the last sleepover because of everyone else
And yet I can see the paths ahead of me and everyone else
The paths are made of dust and clay that forms
Clay that forms from
The clay is made of vermilion dust, two parts dust one part tears
Tears from blue eyes
Not shed over you
Not over you yet (not over you, yet)
A record to chant, a mantra on repeat
These tears are not shed over your skin
I can shed your skin
And yet
And yet the red dust is comprised of human skin
So dust is a reminder of everyone else
And yet everyone else gets what they want, and with green eyes I'll see to it that everyone else...
Future Tense
One day
Like planets we'll align
One day
Like aliens, we'll tell tales in strange sounds
Resembling the languages we've amassed.
One day
I'll joke in Japanese
You'll soliloquize in Serbian
You both will sojourn in Spanish
We'll feebly fling our French about
You can speak a thousand words through the language of Canon and Nikon
Both of you will silently dream in a Sapphic language on the couch in the middle of the party
You'll read from your book of heart and teach us the language of hope that kept you going
Until you finally found that happy ending you deserved.
We eagerly await the sequel.
And we'll all be a little more fluent in life than we were those summers ago when we spoke Wednesday Dance
When laughter was as abundant as the white hairs, and just as sweet as the girl who left them behind.
Just as sweet as Muscato d'Oro, pork tenderloin, chocolate-chip cookies baked at midnight.
Just as sweet as No-Bake Cheesecake when the oven was not an option.
A love deeper than seven layers of deliciousness
And even if we never raise our voices to the wind (strong as it is in both Chicago and Hamamatsu)
if we never hear those familiar voices again
We've a love that cannot be found in je t'aime or ai shiteru
And my heart'll explode a thousand times when I see you.
One day
Like the stars we are that shine so brightly, we will align.
And we'll realize how the universe wasn't created in a day
but in an everlasting bond that outlasts contractions and goodbyes.
One day we'll shine again together.
Like planets we'll align
One day
Like aliens, we'll tell tales in strange sounds
Resembling the languages we've amassed.
One day
I'll joke in Japanese
You'll soliloquize in Serbian
You both will sojourn in Spanish
We'll feebly fling our French about
You can speak a thousand words through the language of Canon and Nikon
Both of you will silently dream in a Sapphic language on the couch in the middle of the party
You'll read from your book of heart and teach us the language of hope that kept you going
Until you finally found that happy ending you deserved.
We eagerly await the sequel.
And we'll all be a little more fluent in life than we were those summers ago when we spoke Wednesday Dance
When laughter was as abundant as the white hairs, and just as sweet as the girl who left them behind.
Just as sweet as Muscato d'Oro, pork tenderloin, chocolate-chip cookies baked at midnight.
Just as sweet as No-Bake Cheesecake when the oven was not an option.
A love deeper than seven layers of deliciousness
And even if we never raise our voices to the wind (strong as it is in both Chicago and Hamamatsu)
if we never hear those familiar voices again
We've a love that cannot be found in je t'aime or ai shiteru
And my heart'll explode a thousand times when I see you.
One day
Like the stars we are that shine so brightly, we will align.
And we'll realize how the universe wasn't created in a day
but in an everlasting bond that outlasts contractions and goodbyes.
One day we'll shine again together.
Rehashing- a year old letter
Why am I single?
Because I am. I mean, several things can contribute to why I am single in Japan. I'm not yet comfortable of going out alone here. My self-confidence in public is entwined with making sure my company is happy and entertained. Without friends to go out with, I turn into a shy wallflower. And I study Japanese as often as I do to try to ease the tension I feel when I do have to interact with someone and I cannot get around the language barrier. As you know, I have an on-going love affair with words. I flirt with words, I have intercourse with discourse, and I protect my heart with the barbs of bards. So if I cannot express myself, I feel like nothing, like a child. It's therefore been easier to stay at home, prepare lessons, study even harder, and wait until the planets align when my friends do actually get together and we do go out exploring. I assure you I am making my situation sound far more hopeless than it is.
The first time I fell in love, it took our mutual breakup to realize I was letting go of something wonderful, solely out of pride. When we were together, I took her for granted, putting my studies ahead of her far too often. The worst thing is that I could not find the words, in any of the languages we spoke together, to tell her how I felt. I think I was afraid of scaring her off with love, so instead I let her go with apathy. I can see the stupidity in hindsight, but at the time I was so concerned with making a name for myself in the university theatre that I not only neglected her, but my own identity. And I repented for that by not dating for a while (and I made a personal vow to not eat McDonald's which is a strange story in itself, but five years later I've kept the commitment).
The year after I spent trying to find perspective. I worked on my feelings as well as my sexual identity. When I was little, I found it difficult to make male friends. Obviously, this led to accusations that are too grand for a fourth grader in the early nineties to fully understand. When gay was written in large letters in my yearbook, I didn't quite know why, but I knew that it was something to be ashamed about. And my little brother learned early that the one way he could upset me was using the word faggot. I was assigned a sexual identity before I had a chance to review it. And I honestly locked away the notion that there could be any truth to it. I had several crushes on girls, and I remember looking across classrooms at girls who looked back and it never amounted to anything major. But, at a boarding school at the age of 16, I got a chance to explore "the dark side" as I liked to joke. I managed to escape with my virginity intact, but I still felt guilty for the minor transgressions I committed. I would wake up in the middle of the night and pray that I could learn to control this deviance.
My sophomore year, I met her and there could not have been a better way to begin my ascent into adulthood. She laughed when she met the object of my transgression at an awkward dinner and we agreed that she was an upgrade. Because she was my first, I had to wrestle with what love meant, but that fight ended months too late with both of us losing. By then, I had moved to England and told myself I would start confronting past demons. And in my year abroad, away from judgment and repression, I went to my first gay club. I started getting comfortable with the idea that my future may be shared with a woman or man. In an ironic twist of events, I spent the majority of the year lusting after a lesbian friend. I learned about the beauty of marijuana, threesomes, and bathroom blow jobs. I also learned that none of those things solely define who I am as a person, but they make stories like these even livelier.
After that year, I came home, started to see people, started to open up again, and there were a few bad moments with some really shitty people (pardon the expression) and some really good ones with people I will never forget. I can also see the times when my fears stood in the way. My fear of letting go of the mythical love that I finally found and placed so high above everyone else. I know now that love will never die, but it is a myth stuck in time and we are two different people. Maybe one day we might find that these two different people are just as compatible, but for the most part I have moved on from who those people used to be.
I am blessed with incredibly young parents. Through a lot of the mistakes they made while raising me, especially during their divorce and how they would sometimes put me in the middle, I learned a lot about relationships at a young age. Most importantly, I learned that my parents are people too who want and need and have the same desires I do. From my mom, who I credit with being the most humble, the wisest person in my life, I learned that relationships only work when two stable, honest people get together. You have to know yourself and be happy in your own skin before trying to add someone else to the equation. A relationship is not a crutch, nor will it save anyone from insecurity.
I've been convinced by past flings that my emotional maturity is more evolved than expected of many of my fellow twentysomethings, and sometimes that scares people off. I get frustrated when I meet people who don't understand that the best thing you can do for a relationship is to be true to yourself as well as to the other person. If someone tells me that all they want is sex, if I am feeling the same way I will offer just that and not have the illusion of anything more. If someone admits to seeking a relationship, the same process takes place. But being able to communicate is extremely important to me as a person, an artist, and a lover. It is also something I struggle with. Hiding behind words not only stops me from getting hurt, but stops me from leaping headfirst into love.
Which leads me back to the question that gave birth to this rant: Why am I single? Because I am confident enough to not be afraid of being single and not confident enough to overlook my insecurity with needing the perfect words and taking a chance. But I can honestly say that I am happy to be in my own skin and it will be a wonderful bonus, not a necessity, to have someone touch that skin and love the person inside.
Because I am. I mean, several things can contribute to why I am single in Japan. I'm not yet comfortable of going out alone here. My self-confidence in public is entwined with making sure my company is happy and entertained. Without friends to go out with, I turn into a shy wallflower. And I study Japanese as often as I do to try to ease the tension I feel when I do have to interact with someone and I cannot get around the language barrier. As you know, I have an on-going love affair with words. I flirt with words, I have intercourse with discourse, and I protect my heart with the barbs of bards. So if I cannot express myself, I feel like nothing, like a child. It's therefore been easier to stay at home, prepare lessons, study even harder, and wait until the planets align when my friends do actually get together and we do go out exploring. I assure you I am making my situation sound far more hopeless than it is.
The first time I fell in love, it took our mutual breakup to realize I was letting go of something wonderful, solely out of pride. When we were together, I took her for granted, putting my studies ahead of her far too often. The worst thing is that I could not find the words, in any of the languages we spoke together, to tell her how I felt. I think I was afraid of scaring her off with love, so instead I let her go with apathy. I can see the stupidity in hindsight, but at the time I was so concerned with making a name for myself in the university theatre that I not only neglected her, but my own identity. And I repented for that by not dating for a while (and I made a personal vow to not eat McDonald's which is a strange story in itself, but five years later I've kept the commitment).
The year after I spent trying to find perspective. I worked on my feelings as well as my sexual identity. When I was little, I found it difficult to make male friends. Obviously, this led to accusations that are too grand for a fourth grader in the early nineties to fully understand. When gay was written in large letters in my yearbook, I didn't quite know why, but I knew that it was something to be ashamed about. And my little brother learned early that the one way he could upset me was using the word faggot. I was assigned a sexual identity before I had a chance to review it. And I honestly locked away the notion that there could be any truth to it. I had several crushes on girls, and I remember looking across classrooms at girls who looked back and it never amounted to anything major. But, at a boarding school at the age of 16, I got a chance to explore "the dark side" as I liked to joke. I managed to escape with my virginity intact, but I still felt guilty for the minor transgressions I committed. I would wake up in the middle of the night and pray that I could learn to control this deviance.
My sophomore year, I met her and there could not have been a better way to begin my ascent into adulthood. She laughed when she met the object of my transgression at an awkward dinner and we agreed that she was an upgrade. Because she was my first, I had to wrestle with what love meant, but that fight ended months too late with both of us losing. By then, I had moved to England and told myself I would start confronting past demons. And in my year abroad, away from judgment and repression, I went to my first gay club. I started getting comfortable with the idea that my future may be shared with a woman or man. In an ironic twist of events, I spent the majority of the year lusting after a lesbian friend. I learned about the beauty of marijuana, threesomes, and bathroom blow jobs. I also learned that none of those things solely define who I am as a person, but they make stories like these even livelier.
After that year, I came home, started to see people, started to open up again, and there were a few bad moments with some really shitty people (pardon the expression) and some really good ones with people I will never forget. I can also see the times when my fears stood in the way. My fear of letting go of the mythical love that I finally found and placed so high above everyone else. I know now that love will never die, but it is a myth stuck in time and we are two different people. Maybe one day we might find that these two different people are just as compatible, but for the most part I have moved on from who those people used to be.
I am blessed with incredibly young parents. Through a lot of the mistakes they made while raising me, especially during their divorce and how they would sometimes put me in the middle, I learned a lot about relationships at a young age. Most importantly, I learned that my parents are people too who want and need and have the same desires I do. From my mom, who I credit with being the most humble, the wisest person in my life, I learned that relationships only work when two stable, honest people get together. You have to know yourself and be happy in your own skin before trying to add someone else to the equation. A relationship is not a crutch, nor will it save anyone from insecurity.
I've been convinced by past flings that my emotional maturity is more evolved than expected of many of my fellow twentysomethings, and sometimes that scares people off. I get frustrated when I meet people who don't understand that the best thing you can do for a relationship is to be true to yourself as well as to the other person. If someone tells me that all they want is sex, if I am feeling the same way I will offer just that and not have the illusion of anything more. If someone admits to seeking a relationship, the same process takes place. But being able to communicate is extremely important to me as a person, an artist, and a lover. It is also something I struggle with. Hiding behind words not only stops me from getting hurt, but stops me from leaping headfirst into love.
Which leads me back to the question that gave birth to this rant: Why am I single? Because I am confident enough to not be afraid of being single and not confident enough to overlook my insecurity with needing the perfect words and taking a chance. But I can honestly say that I am happy to be in my own skin and it will be a wonderful bonus, not a necessity, to have someone touch that skin and love the person inside.
24 August, 2010
The first time I ever had to turn down a job
Good evening,
I apologize for making you wait for my answer. While I am grateful for the offer, I am afraid I must decline at this time.
Since moving to Fujisawa, I have realized that I moved from an unstable school to one that is far more secure. So I am not as desperate for a new job as I was when we first began the application process. Also, while my current job pays slightly less than the one you are offering, it comes without the high cost of living in Tokyo. Therefore, after weighing my options: I can stay with this company for longer than 3 months without worry, I am making more money (after rent and utilities), working fewer hours in a safe city, and I'll get 10 paid vacation days in October. I think I'd be a fool to leave this behind just to be a few minutes closer to the heart of Tokyo, which I have direct access to from my local station.
I sincerely wish you all the best in your efforts to recruit new teachers. You have been nothing but cordial and professional and I appreciate your thoroughness in this matter. I am indeed sorry that I must turn down your offer. I was earnestly looking forward to the opportunity; however, the incentives just are not there for me to leave my current employer.
All my best,
Wendell T. Harrison
I apologize for making you wait for my answer. While I am grateful for the offer, I am afraid I must decline at this time.
Since moving to Fujisawa, I have realized that I moved from an unstable school to one that is far more secure. So I am not as desperate for a new job as I was when we first began the application process. Also, while my current job pays slightly less than the one you are offering, it comes without the high cost of living in Tokyo. Therefore, after weighing my options: I can stay with this company for longer than 3 months without worry, I am making more money (after rent and utilities), working fewer hours in a safe city, and I'll get 10 paid vacation days in October. I think I'd be a fool to leave this behind just to be a few minutes closer to the heart of Tokyo, which I have direct access to from my local station.
I sincerely wish you all the best in your efforts to recruit new teachers. You have been nothing but cordial and professional and I appreciate your thoroughness in this matter. I am indeed sorry that I must turn down your offer. I was earnestly looking forward to the opportunity; however, the incentives just are not there for me to leave my current employer.
All my best,
Wendell T. Harrison
19 March, 2010
Long overwritten rant about health care
I have no idea if this makes sense, but I am tired of holding on to it. So, here goes:
Part 1: The Bipartisan Slumber Party 2010
Few things on television keep my interest as long as policy debates. To watch the President of the United States and members of Congress openly talk about the issue of health care today actually have a discussion (for the most part) is so much more heartwarming in my opinion than the constant talking points we see every day in the media. It isn’t that the talking points were not present; however, if you actually filter through those, and the useless cable news outlets that all made the same blind observation that there was no progress being made, there were several good points on both sides.
As a true blue Democrat, I have become increasingly frustrated with this entire process of health care reform. At the onset of this debate, I remember wishing that Obama had that same arrogance that Bush did- which is hilarious, because people call Obama arrogant all day long without ever acknowledging the hubris of his predecessor. But, knowing that “arrogant” is codeword for something altogether different, I digress. I wished that he would take the lead and basically tell Congress we will have health reform, it will have the public option, it will be mandated, I am president hear me roar, etc, etc. Yet, he did not. And for his respect toward Congress to see this thing through, he gets called every name under the sun. So I will give him praise for not personally pushing this issue at the beginning. However, at this juncture, I am sure we can all agree it’s time for the only adult in the room to step in and stop the children from fighting.
The summit was great for the American people in several ways. First, it was a good education in health care reform policies. As I took copious notes, I learned how exactly high-risk pools work. And after doing a little additional research, I agree with my blue brethren that high-risk pools only benefit people like me: young, healthy, and single. However, the elderly and the sick in this country already account for the majority of medical care dollars in this country, why should people like me ask them to shell out even more.
When I first heard the GOP state that each step should be done incrementally, and not comprehensively, I listened. But the argument does fall apart when you remember that insurance companies will look out for their profits. If you, for example, get rid of the preexisting condition policy, every single premium will rise without oversight to keep it in check. The Democrat plan, in my opinion, is not strong enough because it lacks the public option. How can you assure the people that the insurance companies won’t raise premiums if the American people are gridlocked into the plans that monopolize certain markets? HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebellius made a wonderful point by stating 95% of people in metropolitan areas have very few insurance options and those options do not compete with each other for low prices.
One solution to this problem, first mentioned at length by Representative Marsha Blackburn of Tennessee, is to open the markets across state lines. However, when President Obama said he liked that idea, she seemed to instantly refute it as a plausible solution. And much of the tone was like this all morning (early morning for me in Japan). As Democrats shared personal stories, Republicans kept chanting their mantra of “start over.” Some people actually made wonderful cohesive points that would really add up to a wonderful composite bipartisan bill. But again, instead of dropping their slogan, the GOP kept invoking the name of the American people saying the American people want Congress to start over. I disagree: the American people just want this issue done with. And the majority of the American people want some form of reform passed, even if it is just Health Savings Accounts, which are a terrible idea for those of us below the middle class line.
Reporters all day have chimed that because there was no forward progress, the Republics “win” the summit as if such a thing were possible. I actually have to disagree with that statement on the basis that this bill will probably be passed through reconciliation. Remember that reconciliation, the budgetary maneuver to combine two already-passed bills, would only need a simple 51 majority in the Senate. Also remember that of the past 22 times the process was used, 16 of those scenarios were by the GOP. No strangers to the reconciliation, they should have used this summit to make sure they had substantive policies in the final bill, and not just gimmicky catch phrases.
Part 2: Religiosity
Here’s something I do not understand: Christians. For all the talk Christians do about their god, and how they personally interpret what their god would say or do in a situation, they sometimes seem to forget the basic tenets of their religion. I am not going into a biblical argument, one where we trade verse back in forth. You tell me gays should be stoned, and I will tell you that people who eat shrimp, get tattoos, and breast implants (Carrie Prejean, I am looking at you) are in the same boat. I will remind you that fathers should kill their sons and rape their daughters and the behest of blazing bushes. Almost everything in the book can be manipulated to fit another person’s personal and political belief. But what cannot be misconstrued is what is said about being “Christian” toward ones neighbors and how the rich cannot make it into heaven. That is not to say I think rich people are soulless or do not deserve their eternal paradise. I am Christian at my core so I do not believe I have the power to judge anyone or say where anyone will end up. I know I do some things that completely go against what is written in the book. But I can honestly say that if we cannot support something that fundamentally gives our neighbors a hand in ensuring a healthier lifestyle, then why would I say no? If I were in America, this would clearly be an issue where I’d be losing money, but I believe my sacrifice is worth the country having a safety net for 30 million more Americans (and all Americans if the public option is actually implemented). But, it is getting harder and harder to see the line between Christian, Conservative, Republican, and just effing crazy.
Part 3: A Few Numbers
On the exact date of June 10, 2010, I lost the marginal amount of health insurance I was allowed under my mother’s employee-based insurance scheme. As an adult of the age 25, I was forced out into the world wholly uninsured, and like my contemporaries I was not overly concerned about it. The thing is, for the youth of our nation, health is something we can worry about when we are older. Those of us working full-time but making about $30,000 a year can’t afford the premiums and deductibles which increase each and every year. And I approach this problem as a single male. Consider a family of four with a single mother working hard to bring in $50,000 a year.
The cost of insurance is simply too high for most part-time workers to pay out-of-pocket. This is not a guess, this is substantiated by the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) that since 1999 premiums have risen 119%. Meanwhile, wages have barely made such an increase. According to the Census Bureau, the average income for families was $75,709 (when inflated to 2006 values). In 2006, that number was $77,315. That’s little more than a 2% increase. Now, a person making $70,000 a year working for a company more than likely has employer-based coverage and may be wondering why they should care about government health care reform. Such a person believes that as long as they are covered, why should they be concerned? Insurance is named as such for a reason: it insures that if there is a life emergency you have a safety net. But what measures are in place to ensure you will not be suddenly dropped by your insurance company for any number of rescission-related reasons?
Part 4: The Birth of Socialist Wendell
In 2007, I realized that when my nephew told me my breath was stinky, it wasn’t a joke. That convinced me to see a professional. After talking with the dentist, he told me about gingivitis as well as advanced tooth decay causing the smell and that the best option would be to remove the tooth- actually, six teeth (including four wisdom teeth). Not knowing any better, I allowed the professional to do his thing and here I am with more room in my mouth and my wallet, still paying Care Credit for the $1,000 procedure, with a 25% APR and an extremely steep $39 late fee penalty. Neither of my two part-time jobs at the time provided me with insurance and my mother’s insurance only covered the check up/ cleaning and a percentage of the periodontal treatment. So I had to get an insurance credit card and two years later, I am still trying to pay off this bill. Needless to say, I was not eager to see another dentist for as long as possible- until the night here in Japan when I woke up practically howling with a toothache. After weeks of a mild toothache, and pieces of my teeth breaking off at awkward moments, I decided that very night I could not take it anymore. Along with a close friend who speaks Japanese, I went to Hamamatsu City Hall and signed up on the spot for National Health Insurance. The date was September 5, 2009, or as I like to call it: “Day 1 of Socialist Wendell.” I have written about the matter before at length, but allow me to summarize Japanese Health Care.
If you do not know anything about health care in Japan, you actually know a significant amount more than Republican Congresswoman Michele Bachmann of Minnesota’s 6th district. Health care in Japan is mandatory. But enrollment in the Japanese National Health program is not compulsory. Like in America, one has the options of either getting private insurance or becoming insured through their employer’s preferred insurance company. My company, for example, provides the bare minimum of traveler’s insurance which is considered “catastrophic coverage” because it kicks in after an accident. And to make matters worse, it works through reimbursement. It does not include preventative options, nor does it cover trips to the dentist, ENT, or OBGYN. To be fair, this is more than I coverage I received from all but one of my employers in America.
However, unlike America, there is another option for those who cannot afford private insurance, out-of-pocket-costs, or whose employers are not so benevolent. This option is manifests itself in two forms:
Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)
Similar to employer insurance, full-time employees can choose this option and have a percentage of their monthly premiums come directly from their paychecks. The company takes the brunt of the bills, and the employee therefore only pays 20% of their medical treatments.
Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)
The government pays 70% of your treatment costs and charges the consumer a premium that is a percentage of your annual income. The employee pays 30% upfront and most students, the unemployed and self-employed enjoy this policy.
I have the latter, National Health. As of March 30, 2010, I will have paid off my first year of insurance (it’s prorated from the date you enter Japan) at a cost of ¥69,600 ($760.53). I have used this insurance to pay for X-rays, a cleaning, 2 root canals and a crown treatment, which cost me about $150 out-of-pocket. Keep in mind this amount is 30%, which is far better than $485 I could have paid all at once. The initial treatment was spread over five visits (initial visit and X-rays, root canal over two trips, insertion of the crown’s anchor, and the crown itself. And while I hated the two week waits in-between treatments, it did allow me to make sure I had the money to pay in five installments, not one lump sum as I did in America. Honestly, I don’t know which I would prefer: getting more done in one visit, or splitting the visits and costs, but I can say that I’d rather pay $700 a year and $120 for a full procedure than $700 for one treatment and no insurance to cover any subsequent treatments from any doctor, not just the dentist.
My final statement to make about all of this is “why not?” A simple analogy I can think of is related to car insurance. Yes we gripe about car insurance, and some of us dodge paying it, but we understand it is necessary for driving. Why is it difficult to think about insurance regarding our health? We pay that money in taxes regarding covering people who do not have insurance, as their emergency room bill is passed on to other Americans. And I completely believe that a society must be judged by the citizens that are the worst off. Looking at the most influential country outside of that land is a sad view, seeing that we have the means to help all Americans, but we would rather let 40,000 people die than make a progressive change. Why not? Because it is simply a shame and a dark mark on us not to do it.
Part 1: The Bipartisan Slumber Party 2010
Few things on television keep my interest as long as policy debates. To watch the President of the United States and members of Congress openly talk about the issue of health care today actually have a discussion (for the most part) is so much more heartwarming in my opinion than the constant talking points we see every day in the media. It isn’t that the talking points were not present; however, if you actually filter through those, and the useless cable news outlets that all made the same blind observation that there was no progress being made, there were several good points on both sides.
As a true blue Democrat, I have become increasingly frustrated with this entire process of health care reform. At the onset of this debate, I remember wishing that Obama had that same arrogance that Bush did- which is hilarious, because people call Obama arrogant all day long without ever acknowledging the hubris of his predecessor. But, knowing that “arrogant” is codeword for something altogether different, I digress. I wished that he would take the lead and basically tell Congress we will have health reform, it will have the public option, it will be mandated, I am president hear me roar, etc, etc. Yet, he did not. And for his respect toward Congress to see this thing through, he gets called every name under the sun. So I will give him praise for not personally pushing this issue at the beginning. However, at this juncture, I am sure we can all agree it’s time for the only adult in the room to step in and stop the children from fighting.
The summit was great for the American people in several ways. First, it was a good education in health care reform policies. As I took copious notes, I learned how exactly high-risk pools work. And after doing a little additional research, I agree with my blue brethren that high-risk pools only benefit people like me: young, healthy, and single. However, the elderly and the sick in this country already account for the majority of medical care dollars in this country, why should people like me ask them to shell out even more.
When I first heard the GOP state that each step should be done incrementally, and not comprehensively, I listened. But the argument does fall apart when you remember that insurance companies will look out for their profits. If you, for example, get rid of the preexisting condition policy, every single premium will rise without oversight to keep it in check. The Democrat plan, in my opinion, is not strong enough because it lacks the public option. How can you assure the people that the insurance companies won’t raise premiums if the American people are gridlocked into the plans that monopolize certain markets? HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebellius made a wonderful point by stating 95% of people in metropolitan areas have very few insurance options and those options do not compete with each other for low prices.
One solution to this problem, first mentioned at length by Representative Marsha Blackburn of Tennessee, is to open the markets across state lines. However, when President Obama said he liked that idea, she seemed to instantly refute it as a plausible solution. And much of the tone was like this all morning (early morning for me in Japan). As Democrats shared personal stories, Republicans kept chanting their mantra of “start over.” Some people actually made wonderful cohesive points that would really add up to a wonderful composite bipartisan bill. But again, instead of dropping their slogan, the GOP kept invoking the name of the American people saying the American people want Congress to start over. I disagree: the American people just want this issue done with. And the majority of the American people want some form of reform passed, even if it is just Health Savings Accounts, which are a terrible idea for those of us below the middle class line.
Reporters all day have chimed that because there was no forward progress, the Republics “win” the summit as if such a thing were possible. I actually have to disagree with that statement on the basis that this bill will probably be passed through reconciliation. Remember that reconciliation, the budgetary maneuver to combine two already-passed bills, would only need a simple 51 majority in the Senate. Also remember that of the past 22 times the process was used, 16 of those scenarios were by the GOP. No strangers to the reconciliation, they should have used this summit to make sure they had substantive policies in the final bill, and not just gimmicky catch phrases.
Part 2: Religiosity
Here’s something I do not understand: Christians. For all the talk Christians do about their god, and how they personally interpret what their god would say or do in a situation, they sometimes seem to forget the basic tenets of their religion. I am not going into a biblical argument, one where we trade verse back in forth. You tell me gays should be stoned, and I will tell you that people who eat shrimp, get tattoos, and breast implants (Carrie Prejean, I am looking at you) are in the same boat. I will remind you that fathers should kill their sons and rape their daughters and the behest of blazing bushes. Almost everything in the book can be manipulated to fit another person’s personal and political belief. But what cannot be misconstrued is what is said about being “Christian” toward ones neighbors and how the rich cannot make it into heaven. That is not to say I think rich people are soulless or do not deserve their eternal paradise. I am Christian at my core so I do not believe I have the power to judge anyone or say where anyone will end up. I know I do some things that completely go against what is written in the book. But I can honestly say that if we cannot support something that fundamentally gives our neighbors a hand in ensuring a healthier lifestyle, then why would I say no? If I were in America, this would clearly be an issue where I’d be losing money, but I believe my sacrifice is worth the country having a safety net for 30 million more Americans (and all Americans if the public option is actually implemented). But, it is getting harder and harder to see the line between Christian, Conservative, Republican, and just effing crazy.
Part 3: A Few Numbers
On the exact date of June 10, 2010, I lost the marginal amount of health insurance I was allowed under my mother’s employee-based insurance scheme. As an adult of the age 25, I was forced out into the world wholly uninsured, and like my contemporaries I was not overly concerned about it. The thing is, for the youth of our nation, health is something we can worry about when we are older. Those of us working full-time but making about $30,000 a year can’t afford the premiums and deductibles which increase each and every year. And I approach this problem as a single male. Consider a family of four with a single mother working hard to bring in $50,000 a year.
The cost of insurance is simply too high for most part-time workers to pay out-of-pocket. This is not a guess, this is substantiated by the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) that since 1999 premiums have risen 119%. Meanwhile, wages have barely made such an increase. According to the Census Bureau, the average income for families was $75,709 (when inflated to 2006 values). In 2006, that number was $77,315. That’s little more than a 2% increase. Now, a person making $70,000 a year working for a company more than likely has employer-based coverage and may be wondering why they should care about government health care reform. Such a person believes that as long as they are covered, why should they be concerned? Insurance is named as such for a reason: it insures that if there is a life emergency you have a safety net. But what measures are in place to ensure you will not be suddenly dropped by your insurance company for any number of rescission-related reasons?
Part 4: The Birth of Socialist Wendell
In 2007, I realized that when my nephew told me my breath was stinky, it wasn’t a joke. That convinced me to see a professional. After talking with the dentist, he told me about gingivitis as well as advanced tooth decay causing the smell and that the best option would be to remove the tooth- actually, six teeth (including four wisdom teeth). Not knowing any better, I allowed the professional to do his thing and here I am with more room in my mouth and my wallet, still paying Care Credit for the $1,000 procedure, with a 25% APR and an extremely steep $39 late fee penalty. Neither of my two part-time jobs at the time provided me with insurance and my mother’s insurance only covered the check up/ cleaning and a percentage of the periodontal treatment. So I had to get an insurance credit card and two years later, I am still trying to pay off this bill. Needless to say, I was not eager to see another dentist for as long as possible- until the night here in Japan when I woke up practically howling with a toothache. After weeks of a mild toothache, and pieces of my teeth breaking off at awkward moments, I decided that very night I could not take it anymore. Along with a close friend who speaks Japanese, I went to Hamamatsu City Hall and signed up on the spot for National Health Insurance. The date was September 5, 2009, or as I like to call it: “Day 1 of Socialist Wendell.” I have written about the matter before at length, but allow me to summarize Japanese Health Care.
If you do not know anything about health care in Japan, you actually know a significant amount more than Republican Congresswoman Michele Bachmann of Minnesota’s 6th district. Health care in Japan is mandatory. But enrollment in the Japanese National Health program is not compulsory. Like in America, one has the options of either getting private insurance or becoming insured through their employer’s preferred insurance company. My company, for example, provides the bare minimum of traveler’s insurance which is considered “catastrophic coverage” because it kicks in after an accident. And to make matters worse, it works through reimbursement. It does not include preventative options, nor does it cover trips to the dentist, ENT, or OBGYN. To be fair, this is more than I coverage I received from all but one of my employers in America.
However, unlike America, there is another option for those who cannot afford private insurance, out-of-pocket-costs, or whose employers are not so benevolent. This option is manifests itself in two forms:
Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)
Similar to employer insurance, full-time employees can choose this option and have a percentage of their monthly premiums come directly from their paychecks. The company takes the brunt of the bills, and the employee therefore only pays 20% of their medical treatments.
Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)
The government pays 70% of your treatment costs and charges the consumer a premium that is a percentage of your annual income. The employee pays 30% upfront and most students, the unemployed and self-employed enjoy this policy.
I have the latter, National Health. As of March 30, 2010, I will have paid off my first year of insurance (it’s prorated from the date you enter Japan) at a cost of ¥69,600 ($760.53). I have used this insurance to pay for X-rays, a cleaning, 2 root canals and a crown treatment, which cost me about $150 out-of-pocket. Keep in mind this amount is 30%, which is far better than $485 I could have paid all at once. The initial treatment was spread over five visits (initial visit and X-rays, root canal over two trips, insertion of the crown’s anchor, and the crown itself. And while I hated the two week waits in-between treatments, it did allow me to make sure I had the money to pay in five installments, not one lump sum as I did in America. Honestly, I don’t know which I would prefer: getting more done in one visit, or splitting the visits and costs, but I can say that I’d rather pay $700 a year and $120 for a full procedure than $700 for one treatment and no insurance to cover any subsequent treatments from any doctor, not just the dentist.
My final statement to make about all of this is “why not?” A simple analogy I can think of is related to car insurance. Yes we gripe about car insurance, and some of us dodge paying it, but we understand it is necessary for driving. Why is it difficult to think about insurance regarding our health? We pay that money in taxes regarding covering people who do not have insurance, as their emergency room bill is passed on to other Americans. And I completely believe that a society must be judged by the citizens that are the worst off. Looking at the most influential country outside of that land is a sad view, seeing that we have the means to help all Americans, but we would rather let 40,000 people die than make a progressive change. Why not? Because it is simply a shame and a dark mark on us not to do it.
02 March, 2010
What is it about the change of winter to spring that's making me feel so fragile? As if everything had hard frozen in the past few months and it's not thawing out, but breaking all around me.
My eyes melted last night. I would like to think I am a well-composed person, but yesterday it seemed as if everything in my head mashed together and presented me with some fundamental thoughts about taking control of my life. Who knew dropping my iPhone into a toilet would bring about the collapse of my confidence? Yesterday I felt like a shell of uselessness. Outside of my teaching, I really am not serving a purpose where I am. To get where I need to get means having to disappoint other people.
I have to make ripples.
Last night, as I polished off the second bottle of room temperature Japanese sake, I watched as a drop held onto the edge of the bottle. It clung on to the bottle, it's safety, what it knows. And it dangled in fear, until I shook it. It fell without ceremony into the cup and became more than itself. It became part of something more. But to do so, it had to make ripples- it had to shake things up.
That's how I feel. I'm hanging on to safety. I'm clinging to the hope that I won't have to make the jump, that someone will shake me into a decision, into the cup.
But that floating has caught up with me. I keep taking on other people's feelings and sacrificing my soul for the sake of complacency. It is not healthy and it's causing me to let everything weigh me down. It's causing me to blame other factors for my unhappiness. It's all it's fault.
When I thought my iPhone was kaput, I wanted to crawl into a cave. A small problem became an exercise in dramatic mourning. I didn't feel like talking or eating. Just complaining. Luckily for me I had someone to put up with my whining, get me out of the house and the eternal thought-loop, and give me a literal shoulder to cry on (not in public of course!).
Living here has it's clear ups and downs. My downs are always related to the same thing- having to rely on others to speak for me. I don't have my family here. I don't have my best friends here to talk through my issues, or to distract me with their awesomeness. And lately when something arises, I am acutely conscious that in a few months I will be practically alone in this area. Funny, eh. I don't want to rely on people but I will have no one to rely on here soon. And this has reduced me to inconsequential proportions.
I am an inconsequential drop. And I need to drop already. The cup's waiting.
I won't be the last drop.
(Composed on and sent from my iPhone :-)
My eyes melted last night. I would like to think I am a well-composed person, but yesterday it seemed as if everything in my head mashed together and presented me with some fundamental thoughts about taking control of my life. Who knew dropping my iPhone into a toilet would bring about the collapse of my confidence? Yesterday I felt like a shell of uselessness. Outside of my teaching, I really am not serving a purpose where I am. To get where I need to get means having to disappoint other people.
I have to make ripples.
Last night, as I polished off the second bottle of room temperature Japanese sake, I watched as a drop held onto the edge of the bottle. It clung on to the bottle, it's safety, what it knows. And it dangled in fear, until I shook it. It fell without ceremony into the cup and became more than itself. It became part of something more. But to do so, it had to make ripples- it had to shake things up.
That's how I feel. I'm hanging on to safety. I'm clinging to the hope that I won't have to make the jump, that someone will shake me into a decision, into the cup.
But that floating has caught up with me. I keep taking on other people's feelings and sacrificing my soul for the sake of complacency. It is not healthy and it's causing me to let everything weigh me down. It's causing me to blame other factors for my unhappiness. It's all it's fault.
When I thought my iPhone was kaput, I wanted to crawl into a cave. A small problem became an exercise in dramatic mourning. I didn't feel like talking or eating. Just complaining. Luckily for me I had someone to put up with my whining, get me out of the house and the eternal thought-loop, and give me a literal shoulder to cry on (not in public of course!).
Living here has it's clear ups and downs. My downs are always related to the same thing- having to rely on others to speak for me. I don't have my family here. I don't have my best friends here to talk through my issues, or to distract me with their awesomeness. And lately when something arises, I am acutely conscious that in a few months I will be practically alone in this area. Funny, eh. I don't want to rely on people but I will have no one to rely on here soon. And this has reduced me to inconsequential proportions.
I am an inconsequential drop. And I need to drop already. The cup's waiting.
I won't be the last drop.
(Composed on and sent from my iPhone :-)
14 December, 2009
A short poem about gross bodily functions
You are so full of... talent that it makes my bowels want to vomit vowels and choke on consonants and, consequently, consonance. Mentally constipated, I constantly gag, trying to spit out the perfect words to say what's deep inside my throat: I love the piss out of you and I can't wait to come home.
13 December, 2009
Year of the Space Cowboy
Yep. Normally this would be about the time to evaluate this entire year and decide at all once if it was a successful one or not. Judging by all I have learned this year, I would say it has been a pretty good year. The fact that I can now say it in Japanese that this year has been a good one (今年はいいですね！) proves it.
When I moved here in February, it was after a year of soul searching. After failing to get the only spot available in the M.A. Directing program at the University of Texas, I wasn't sure where to go next. I was told, very politely, that my biggest downfall was my age (23 at the time) and that they sincerely hope, after I gain a little more worldly experience, that I would try again. I took the worldly experience thing to heart. Here I sit in Hamamatsu planning the next phase:
Tokyo 2010.
A big factor in my decision to come to Japan was to study, or at least observe, Kabuki, No, and Bunraku theatre. After seeing a kabuki version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, directed by preeminent Japanese director Ninagawa Yukio, I knew I made a wise decision. It's been a few months since I've seen a show (the last was Sarah Kane's Blasted, performed by a Japanese company with a French director). That's the territory that comes with dating someone a few hours away. The days become counters for the next encounter. Until the clock stops cold. And you're standing there wondering what the hell to do with these batteries.
So, I've been redirecting that energy back where it belongs: travel and theatre. And there's no better way to celebrate the homecoming of my he(art) than to come home. During my two weeks, I will see the people who have kept me strong through the loneliness that comes with not being able to speak to even your neighbors because of the language barrier. And I will visit my Mecca for my very first pilgrimage. I will visit NYC for NYE.
I am truly amazed at how this year has unfolded. I've seen things I never imagined and I constantly make plans that once seemed impossible. I feel powerful and impotent at the same time.
Maybe it's a Gemini thing.
This weekend, I am staying in-bed to do some much needed reading. The Kite Runner, perhaps. Maybe some Shakespeare. He never fails to equally humble and inspire.
Oyasumi. Today will be a good day for you.
I am living in the future after all.
When I moved here in February, it was after a year of soul searching. After failing to get the only spot available in the M.A. Directing program at the University of Texas, I wasn't sure where to go next. I was told, very politely, that my biggest downfall was my age (23 at the time) and that they sincerely hope, after I gain a little more worldly experience, that I would try again. I took the worldly experience thing to heart. Here I sit in Hamamatsu planning the next phase:
Tokyo 2010.
A big factor in my decision to come to Japan was to study, or at least observe, Kabuki, No, and Bunraku theatre. After seeing a kabuki version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, directed by preeminent Japanese director Ninagawa Yukio, I knew I made a wise decision. It's been a few months since I've seen a show (the last was Sarah Kane's Blasted, performed by a Japanese company with a French director). That's the territory that comes with dating someone a few hours away. The days become counters for the next encounter. Until the clock stops cold. And you're standing there wondering what the hell to do with these batteries.
So, I've been redirecting that energy back where it belongs: travel and theatre. And there's no better way to celebrate the homecoming of my he(art) than to come home. During my two weeks, I will see the people who have kept me strong through the loneliness that comes with not being able to speak to even your neighbors because of the language barrier. And I will visit my Mecca for my very first pilgrimage. I will visit NYC for NYE.
I am truly amazed at how this year has unfolded. I've seen things I never imagined and I constantly make plans that once seemed impossible. I feel powerful and impotent at the same time.
Maybe it's a Gemini thing.
This weekend, I am staying in-bed to do some much needed reading. The Kite Runner, perhaps. Maybe some Shakespeare. He never fails to equally humble and inspire.
Oyasumi. Today will be a good day for you.
I am living in the future after all.
09 December, 2009
Best thing I've heard in an interview on television
Every time Rachel Maddow books a guest who clearly disagrees with her, and vice versa, it always makes for good television. What really fascinates me is how she readily uses her guest's past statements against them. She really does her research, and while I know she has staffers, I have read accounts that she works harder than anyone on her team. Yay perfectionism! That's how she became a Rhodes Scholar.
Anyway, I saw this tonight and I laughed so hard at her candidness I watched it three times in succession.
Rachel Maddow: "The idea that divorce makes you gay for example seems insane to me-"
Richard Cohen: "No no no no-"
Rachel: "You described it as a factor of homosexuality."
Richard: "You're taking it out of context, Rachel."
Rachel: "No. I'm reading from your book, dude."
Hahahahahaha. Dude!
Anyway, I saw this tonight and I laughed so hard at her candidness I watched it three times in succession.
Rachel Maddow: "The idea that divorce makes you gay for example seems insane to me-"
Richard Cohen: "No no no no-"
Rachel: "You described it as a factor of homosexuality."
Richard: "You're taking it out of context, Rachel."
Rachel: "No. I'm reading from your book, dude."
Hahahahahaha. Dude!
01 December, 2009
The Once Wonderful Wizard
The Once Wonderful Wizard
Weary from their westward walking, our wanderers reach the Wizard
The Wonderful Wizard
The one who made the town emerald and the eyes green
The Wonderful Wizard
Who is larger than life
Whose compassion knows no bounds
The Wonderful Wizard
With several tongues
Wearing the story of life on his skin.
Weary from their walk, they wrestle with the Wizard.
The Wonderful Wizard
Who projects himself as strong and all-knowing
Who turns out to be a mere mortal after all.
The wall has fallen and the Wizard looks beyond
Wondering if he should seek his own rainbow.
Our wayward travelers continue west.
Weary from their walk, our wanderers realize
They never really needed the Wizard after all.
They'd walked so far on the saffron road together
Wondering how this would all come to end.
The straw woman wizened on her journey
She now knows she cannot stay in Oz.
The last we heard, she let the wind take her west.
The maple colored leo was searching for the antidote
The one to cure his pussycat ways.
This lion, once thought to be a coward,
Was right to turn tail and flee in the rain.
The metallic automaton was on a journey to find emotion.
The thing to make him fully human.
The Wizard chided him, called him scrap.
Told him to oil his own joints.
The tin woodsman cried back:
I am indeed a
clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk.
And one day I'll take off this tin armour streaked with rust
And follow the gilded road home.
On that day you'll realize that I do have a heart and you
Wizard
have no magic.
And that girl
The infectiously chipper girl,
(And her little dog too)
was disappointed most of all.
But at the end of this journey, the long westward walk
She learned that what she was seeking
Was with her the whole time
She learned though she's not in Kansas
or Kansai
anymore, she is home.
So she stayed. And they smiled,
The girl and her armoured companion.
What about the Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard is searching for blue birds.
And he, like our wayward wanderers, needs to follow this road through.
And we hope to see the Wizard soon.
And we hope the Wizard can tell us his stories.
And we hope the Wizard finds his magic too.
But he will never be the Wonderful Wizard again.
Weary from their westward walking, our wanderers reach the Wizard
The Wonderful Wizard
The one who made the town emerald and the eyes green
The Wonderful Wizard
Who is larger than life
Whose compassion knows no bounds
The Wonderful Wizard
With several tongues
Wearing the story of life on his skin.
Weary from their walk, they wrestle with the Wizard.
The Wonderful Wizard
Who projects himself as strong and all-knowing
Who turns out to be a mere mortal after all.
The wall has fallen and the Wizard looks beyond
Wondering if he should seek his own rainbow.
Our wayward travelers continue west.
Weary from their walk, our wanderers realize
They never really needed the Wizard after all.
They'd walked so far on the saffron road together
Wondering how this would all come to end.
The straw woman wizened on her journey
She now knows she cannot stay in Oz.
The last we heard, she let the wind take her west.
The maple colored leo was searching for the antidote
The one to cure his pussycat ways.
This lion, once thought to be a coward,
Was right to turn tail and flee in the rain.
The metallic automaton was on a journey to find emotion.
The thing to make him fully human.
The Wizard chided him, called him scrap.
Told him to oil his own joints.
The tin woodsman cried back:
I am indeed a
clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk.
And one day I'll take off this tin armour streaked with rust
And follow the gilded road home.
On that day you'll realize that I do have a heart and you
Wizard
have no magic.
And that girl
The infectiously chipper girl,
(And her little dog too)
was disappointed most of all.
But at the end of this journey, the long westward walk
She learned that what she was seeking
Was with her the whole time
She learned though she's not in Kansas
or Kansai
anymore, she is home.
So she stayed. And they smiled,
The girl and her armoured companion.
What about the Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard
The once Wonderful Wizard is searching for blue birds.
And he, like our wayward wanderers, needs to follow this road through.
And we hope to see the Wizard soon.
And we hope the Wizard can tell us his stories.
And we hope the Wizard finds his magic too.
But he will never be the Wonderful Wizard again.
07 November, 2009
あのう、こちらは私の一番手紙です。
私は毎朝10時に起きます。朝ごはんは時々くだものと水です。ジオスではたらきます。あるいて会社行きます。会社は1時から10時までです。10時15分にうちへ帰ります。10時はんに晩ごはんを食べます。それからえいがを見ます。よる3時に寝ます。日曜日と月曜日ははたらきません。日曜日はどこにも行きません。休みます。月曜日は本を読んだりＤＳをしたりします。それから日本語を勉強します。
じゃまたね！javascript:void(0)
じゃまたね！javascript:void(0)
06 October, 2009
ベトナム （Vietnam)
Hisashiburi, blog.
It took an entire week to fully recover from our adventures in Thailand and Vietnam, but I am recharged and ready to recount. I have poured through tons of pictures to refresh my memory and now that I have a can of Asahi Super Dry by my side I am ready write.
Ho Chi Minh City was the first stop during my week-long vacation away from Japan. Along with brave friend Thomas (brave for considering spending an entire week with me and my Geminian mood swings), I settled in for a six hour flight to Saigon International Airport from Tokyo exactly two weeks ago. For some strange reason, perhaps the two warm beers I had on the plane, I was not feeling all that great coming off the plane. I have only dealt with jet-lag once in my life, but I know this feeling was not the same. It wasn’t lethargy, but as if I had an irritable stomach before even attempting to try Vietnamese or Thai food. Perhaps I could blame it on the airplane food.
Nevertheless, after we settled into our hotel, among several other Japanese tourists, we did a little exploring. Our first mission: find some coffee for Thomas. Thomas has an ongoing love affair with Starbucks, but unfortunately he committed a minor infidelity by patronizing Highlands Coffee (not to be confused with the wonderful coffee shop on LSU’s North Gates).
After enjoying quite possibly the smallest cup of coffee known to man, we continued on our pursuit of Vietnamese nightlife. We literally walked in circles, allowing our radius from the hotel to lengthen ever so slightly so as not to get completely lost. And consequently, our walk made it much easier the next day when we actually developed a game plan.
That night, while I soaked in the tub, Thomas found some great places for lunch and dinner. I mentioned that I wanted to go to the Reunification Palace and the Vietnam War Museum. With that basic plan, we went to sleep. The next morning however, the plan started slightly drifting off-course, in a good way. We stumbled upon a really cool post office, which happened to be across from the Notre Dame of HCMC, a decent copy of Paris’ famous tourist destination. We walked up and down one street in particular looking for our lunch spot before realizing it was closed. Not being able to read the Vietnamese sign, we decided to go next door, to a Bún restaurant. Bún is rice vermicelli, which are very thin, white noodles. Lunch was amazing and the café was quite picturesque, drawing inspiration from nature and the greenery that thrives in Southeast Asia.
We took quite a few handsome shots that really incorporated the ambiance before moving on to the Reunification Palace.
There’s not much to say about this building, except it is well-preserved, as if the 70s never ended. After we left, we headed immediately to the Vietnam War Museum (well, after getting more coffee for Thomas). Inside, we were expectedly bombarded with pictures of war atrocities. Of course the coalition against North Vietnamese Communists was terrible. But the museum does not take a unbiased tone, it goes a little too far in sensationalizing the event to draw sympathy from those of us who are limited in our capacity to understand the era. That may sound either complex or emotionless, but my parents were barely alive during the Vietnam War. It is somewhat an alien concept to me and I cannot force myself develop strong feelings about it. I can honestly say if I were alive then I would be a part of the protests, but I can also say that if I were alive then I would not nearly have the broad circle of international friends that I do now. Looking at these pictures started to make me cry at first. There are some quite brutal and graphic images. But, as if someone used a plunger on my head, my capacity to care drained like a leaky pipe. I went from mortified and embarrassed to be from America, to remembering that the Vietnam War was not started by Americans, nor was America the only country involved. I never thought I would get defensive about American involvement in the war, but it was hard to see how the museum did not seem to emphasize that the war was fought by two halves of one country. Then again, Communist countries are known for their propaganda, and why should this museum in this country be any different. And it was not just me and my American arrogance, but Thomas, who is Japanese, started to feel overwhelmed as well. It was a full-out assault with a deadly weapon- ambiguous truth.
And, well, since we only had two days to spend in Vietnam, that- as they say- is that. I did enjoy the trip, and the food was amazing, but to say I never planned on going to Vietnam and had no expectations is an understatement. However, not knowing what to expect and giving the country a chance was a wise decision because I got to witness something so different from Japan and America, something real and yet equally ethereal. Especially when someone is coming at you on a motorcycle and you are rightfully standing on the sidewalk. It was a good trip, and if I go back I hope to meet up with someone who can actually show me things off the tourist grid. That’s the kind of thing I felt missing from our trip.
And that’s Vietnam. Next time I will give you the stats on Bangkok and Phuket. Till then…
Peace out.xx
Oh yeah! Here is the link to all of the pictures we took in both Vietnam and Phuket. Enjoy.
It took an entire week to fully recover from our adventures in Thailand and Vietnam, but I am recharged and ready to recount. I have poured through tons of pictures to refresh my memory and now that I have a can of Asahi Super Dry by my side I am ready write.
Ho Chi Minh City was the first stop during my week-long vacation away from Japan. Along with brave friend Thomas (brave for considering spending an entire week with me and my Geminian mood swings), I settled in for a six hour flight to Saigon International Airport from Tokyo exactly two weeks ago. For some strange reason, perhaps the two warm beers I had on the plane, I was not feeling all that great coming off the plane. I have only dealt with jet-lag once in my life, but I know this feeling was not the same. It wasn’t lethargy, but as if I had an irritable stomach before even attempting to try Vietnamese or Thai food. Perhaps I could blame it on the airplane food.
Nevertheless, after we settled into our hotel, among several other Japanese tourists, we did a little exploring. Our first mission: find some coffee for Thomas. Thomas has an ongoing love affair with Starbucks, but unfortunately he committed a minor infidelity by patronizing Highlands Coffee (not to be confused with the wonderful coffee shop on LSU’s North Gates).
After enjoying quite possibly the smallest cup of coffee known to man, we continued on our pursuit of Vietnamese nightlife. We literally walked in circles, allowing our radius from the hotel to lengthen ever so slightly so as not to get completely lost. And consequently, our walk made it much easier the next day when we actually developed a game plan.
That night, while I soaked in the tub, Thomas found some great places for lunch and dinner. I mentioned that I wanted to go to the Reunification Palace and the Vietnam War Museum. With that basic plan, we went to sleep. The next morning however, the plan started slightly drifting off-course, in a good way. We stumbled upon a really cool post office, which happened to be across from the Notre Dame of HCMC, a decent copy of Paris’ famous tourist destination. We walked up and down one street in particular looking for our lunch spot before realizing it was closed. Not being able to read the Vietnamese sign, we decided to go next door, to a Bún restaurant. Bún is rice vermicelli, which are very thin, white noodles. Lunch was amazing and the café was quite picturesque, drawing inspiration from nature and the greenery that thrives in Southeast Asia.
We took quite a few handsome shots that really incorporated the ambiance before moving on to the Reunification Palace.
There’s not much to say about this building, except it is well-preserved, as if the 70s never ended. After we left, we headed immediately to the Vietnam War Museum (well, after getting more coffee for Thomas). Inside, we were expectedly bombarded with pictures of war atrocities. Of course the coalition against North Vietnamese Communists was terrible. But the museum does not take a unbiased tone, it goes a little too far in sensationalizing the event to draw sympathy from those of us who are limited in our capacity to understand the era. That may sound either complex or emotionless, but my parents were barely alive during the Vietnam War. It is somewhat an alien concept to me and I cannot force myself develop strong feelings about it. I can honestly say if I were alive then I would be a part of the protests, but I can also say that if I were alive then I would not nearly have the broad circle of international friends that I do now. Looking at these pictures started to make me cry at first. There are some quite brutal and graphic images. But, as if someone used a plunger on my head, my capacity to care drained like a leaky pipe. I went from mortified and embarrassed to be from America, to remembering that the Vietnam War was not started by Americans, nor was America the only country involved. I never thought I would get defensive about American involvement in the war, but it was hard to see how the museum did not seem to emphasize that the war was fought by two halves of one country. Then again, Communist countries are known for their propaganda, and why should this museum in this country be any different. And it was not just me and my American arrogance, but Thomas, who is Japanese, started to feel overwhelmed as well. It was a full-out assault with a deadly weapon- ambiguous truth.
And, well, since we only had two days to spend in Vietnam, that- as they say- is that. I did enjoy the trip, and the food was amazing, but to say I never planned on going to Vietnam and had no expectations is an understatement. However, not knowing what to expect and giving the country a chance was a wise decision because I got to witness something so different from Japan and America, something real and yet equally ethereal. Especially when someone is coming at you on a motorcycle and you are rightfully standing on the sidewalk. It was a good trip, and if I go back I hope to meet up with someone who can actually show me things off the tourist grid. That’s the kind of thing I felt missing from our trip.
And that’s Vietnam. Next time I will give you the stats on Bangkok and Phuket. Till then…
Peace out.xx
Oh yeah! Here is the link to all of the pictures we took in both Vietnam and Phuket. Enjoy.
13 September, 2009
Latex can save your life
Yesterday, I told one of my students that I got tested for STIs last week.
He laughed.
Soon realizing that I was not in on the joke he stopped immediately, asking "sexual diseases, ne [right]?" Yes, I intoned, almost challenging him to ask why. We were previously talking about his recent health checkup so contextually I shared my recent visit to a clinic. He commented that I look healthy, which I told him is a major reason why people unwittingly spread diseases- the assumption of being able to spot someone with a sexually transmitted infection. Someone who isn't "clean," as they have unfairly been called. And while I thank him for the compliment, I owe being healthy to being aware that every sexual experience I have is one more possibility for contracting an infection, or the worst disease of all- pregnancy.
Now that I can take advantage of Japan's socialized health care, I immediately began with a battery of tests. After two bus transfers, I made my way back to the public health clinic, Hamamatsu Hokenjo, to get the results of the blood tests I took last week. Silently, I prayed that the needles are more sterile than the building they are housed in. This building has all the charm of Earl K. Long Hospital in Baton Rouge, but none of the inefficiency. Within minutes of arriving, my number was called and I was led into the same room where I previously answered a few questions like:
"Do you have a reason to believe you have recently contracted HIV/AIDS?" (No)
"Have you ever been treated for Syphilis or Chlamydia before?" (No)
"Do you routinely share needles with other people" (Um... well, not since 'Nam)
In Japan, if you take an anonymous blood test it is not customary for the result to be handed to you on paper or given over the phone. You have to come in-person and give your initials. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu" I greeted the nurse and told her immediately that I cannot speak Japanese. She said "Daijoubu [it's okay], I speak little English" before continuing in Japanese. Like the statement "guilty until proven innocent," I apparently understood Japanese until I pulled a strange face. She spoke, and I listened carefully for her intonation. If something sounded serious or if she asked a question that I didn't understand, I raised an eyebrow. She then translated the last word of her sentence, "Blah blah blah... paper." But she was very kind and patient, so I do not intend to make light of her effort to help me understand the results. All I needed to hear anyway was negative.
Finally, after searching for my results, she pointed to negative for all four tests and instantly became my new best friend (well, my new best Japanese friend... not that there's much competition). She continued to talk and I continued to say "Hai" until she made small talk. She asked me the typical question: "When do you come to Japan" (which, as an English teacher, I usually correct but this was not the time) and, in Japanese, asked me if I either eat or like Japanese food. I don't know which one but the answer is yes for both, so I said so. I thanked her and made my way back home to sit in my STI-free skin and thank all those in my life who champion safety.
My student is a good representative of many people I know, in America and abroad: people who believe testing for STIs is relegated for sex workers and homosexuals (and, you know, bisexuals). It is unfortunate that this ignorance spreads, like, well...legs. Everyone who is sexually active should be aware of their status regarding STIs and it should be regarded as routine as an annual physical. I honestly went into the office confident that I would once again receive favorable results (I almost typed positive results, but that would be assuredly antithetical) but leaving always produces a little healthy anxiety.
The best part about waiting a week for your results is reevaluating the sexual transgressions of the past. But getting tested isn't about regrets and the fear of sex. The absolute best part of getting those results is looking forward to the sexual adventures of the future and knowing that you have more time to play the game.
So play on.
He laughed.
Soon realizing that I was not in on the joke he stopped immediately, asking "sexual diseases, ne [right]?" Yes, I intoned, almost challenging him to ask why. We were previously talking about his recent health checkup so contextually I shared my recent visit to a clinic. He commented that I look healthy, which I told him is a major reason why people unwittingly spread diseases- the assumption of being able to spot someone with a sexually transmitted infection. Someone who isn't "clean," as they have unfairly been called. And while I thank him for the compliment, I owe being healthy to being aware that every sexual experience I have is one more possibility for contracting an infection, or the worst disease of all- pregnancy.
Now that I can take advantage of Japan's socialized health care, I immediately began with a battery of tests. After two bus transfers, I made my way back to the public health clinic, Hamamatsu Hokenjo, to get the results of the blood tests I took last week. Silently, I prayed that the needles are more sterile than the building they are housed in. This building has all the charm of Earl K. Long Hospital in Baton Rouge, but none of the inefficiency. Within minutes of arriving, my number was called and I was led into the same room where I previously answered a few questions like:
"Do you have a reason to believe you have recently contracted HIV/AIDS?" (No)
"Have you ever been treated for Syphilis or Chlamydia before?" (No)
"Do you routinely share needles with other people" (Um... well, not since 'Nam)
In Japan, if you take an anonymous blood test it is not customary for the result to be handed to you on paper or given over the phone. You have to come in-person and give your initials. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu" I greeted the nurse and told her immediately that I cannot speak Japanese. She said "Daijoubu [it's okay], I speak little English" before continuing in Japanese. Like the statement "guilty until proven innocent," I apparently understood Japanese until I pulled a strange face. She spoke, and I listened carefully for her intonation. If something sounded serious or if she asked a question that I didn't understand, I raised an eyebrow. She then translated the last word of her sentence, "Blah blah blah... paper." But she was very kind and patient, so I do not intend to make light of her effort to help me understand the results. All I needed to hear anyway was negative.
Finally, after searching for my results, she pointed to negative for all four tests and instantly became my new best friend (well, my new best Japanese friend... not that there's much competition). She continued to talk and I continued to say "Hai" until she made small talk. She asked me the typical question: "When do you come to Japan" (which, as an English teacher, I usually correct but this was not the time) and, in Japanese, asked me if I either eat or like Japanese food. I don't know which one but the answer is yes for both, so I said so. I thanked her and made my way back home to sit in my STI-free skin and thank all those in my life who champion safety.
My student is a good representative of many people I know, in America and abroad: people who believe testing for STIs is relegated for sex workers and homosexuals (and, you know, bisexuals). It is unfortunate that this ignorance spreads, like, well...legs. Everyone who is sexually active should be aware of their status regarding STIs and it should be regarded as routine as an annual physical. I honestly went into the office confident that I would once again receive favorable results (I almost typed positive results, but that would be assuredly antithetical) but leaving always produces a little healthy anxiety.
The best part about waiting a week for your results is reevaluating the sexual transgressions of the past. But getting tested isn't about regrets and the fear of sex. The absolute best part of getting those results is looking forward to the sexual adventures of the future and knowing that you have more time to play the game.
So play on.
03 September, 2009
Podium
In 24 hours, I will officially join what is thought by many to be "socialized health care." I will walk into a Hamamatsu ward office and leave with an insurance card. This card means doctors would only charge me 30% for any health care I need outside of the meager insurance provided by my company (which I was told at the ward office is traveler's insurance). So when I go to the dentist, a much needed trip, I will be responsible for paying 30% of the procedure and any prescriptions. It's the first time since I've been a working American male that I've had my own health insurance, and it is a shame that I could not get a similar option in America.
The landmark study "Care Without Coverage: Too Little, Too Late," has been widely quoted in the midst of the health care debate in America. This 193-page report has been so important because it points out that 30 million (that's one in seven) working-age Americans cannot get insurance from their employer or are too young for Medicare; approximately 10 million children lack insurance altogether. The fact that 18,314 people die in the USA each year should be a sobering one for the country that outspends the rest of the world in health care but provides only a fraction of the population with adequate health care.
For many Americans, the idea of not having health insurance is unfathomable. Some people have been fortunate to not know what it is like to lack coverage. However, this American has never had his own health insurance plan and is now officially too old to be covered under his mother's health insurance. In America, I would be between a rock and a hard place should something happen to me. Even when I was partially covered under my mother's plan, I had to pay a considerable amount for health care. It was generally enough that I usually avoided hospitals and dentists. That avoidance could have prevented my health, particularly my teeth, from declining. I know several people who refuse to call an ambulance because the cost of having one come to pick you up, even in an emergency, is not covered in their insurance, if they are in fact covered at the time of illness. Personally, I had to open a credit card to pay for previous dental work that I am still trying to pay for two years later, because the interest rate is sky high. If I were in America working the exact same job, I would not currently have any options to consider about my health care.
I do not say this lightly: thankfully, I am not in America.
I am in Japan, a country with socialized health care insurance and the world's highest life-expectancy rate. To be clear, about 80% of Japanese hospitals are privately owned, so it is not "socialized medicine," as NPR clarifies in an April article on the health care situation of Japan. Japan has what many Americans are fighting for now, universal health care. Specifically, a Public Option. Simply put, I can opt for National Health Insurance. Japan requires health care for everyone, but I can choose from three different programs:
1) Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)- Your company will provide you with this insurance if you are currently working full-time. Your deductible will come directly out of your paycheck and is a certain percentage of your earnings and will cover up to 70% of your medical bills. (Now the kicker is that full-time means 30 hours a week, I am reportedly working 29.5 and not full-time which makes me ineligible for this option.)
2) Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)- Opting into this plan means the government pays 70% of your treatment, while you pay the other 30%. This is the plan most students, unemployed and self-employed people have. The government sends you a bill every month like an insurance company but the amount you pay is based on residence tax, dependents and property owned.(This is the option I will have to choose)
3) Private Health Care- like America, you can choose your own personal health care option which gives you the coverage that you prefer at the costs you prefer. This option, for those who can afford it, usually means full-coverage, or at least more than 70% (which honestly isn't bad to begin with!)
In fact, the only people really complaining about Japanese health care are physicians. Japanese health care has limits on how much doctors can charge for operations and procedures. This is standardized across the country. While in America one doctor can charge an arm and a leg for an X-ray, the cost of imaging is the same all over Japan, and relatively cheaper.
Japanese people live longer than Americans because of diet as well as preventive care. They see a doctor three times as much as Americans according to T.R. Reid with NPR. And they see any doctor they want. Of course no health care plan is perfect, but the fact that I have choices, "options open to the public" if you will.
See, the thing people seem to be confused about is that the Public Option that the President is seeking is no different at all from the one already in place here in Japan and other intelligent developed countries. England's universal health care program began in 1911, but really expanded into the modern form in 1946 after the blitz of World War II. And England has learned that it's program isn't perfect and is currently seeking ways to reform it to improve hospitals and wait times. But at least it has a system in place to insure everyone has access to care. And no one in Japan has to declare bankruptcy because of unexpected hospital bills. It is a kick in the face that once a doctor saves your life you don't have much to life for when the bills pile up. Having a Public Option means I can choose to have private insurance or choose the government to assist me when I need health care. Knowing the government has a safety net for me makes me feel like an actual human being.
Which makes me afraid to figure out what will I be if I have to go back to the states and lose any coverage.
I'll continue to post about my journey through the scary path that is socialized health care.
Ikuzo.
The landmark study "Care Without Coverage: Too Little, Too Late," has been widely quoted in the midst of the health care debate in America. This 193-page report has been so important because it points out that 30 million (that's one in seven) working-age Americans cannot get insurance from their employer or are too young for Medicare; approximately 10 million children lack insurance altogether. The fact that 18,314 people die in the USA each year should be a sobering one for the country that outspends the rest of the world in health care but provides only a fraction of the population with adequate health care.
For many Americans, the idea of not having health insurance is unfathomable. Some people have been fortunate to not know what it is like to lack coverage. However, this American has never had his own health insurance plan and is now officially too old to be covered under his mother's health insurance. In America, I would be between a rock and a hard place should something happen to me. Even when I was partially covered under my mother's plan, I had to pay a considerable amount for health care. It was generally enough that I usually avoided hospitals and dentists. That avoidance could have prevented my health, particularly my teeth, from declining. I know several people who refuse to call an ambulance because the cost of having one come to pick you up, even in an emergency, is not covered in their insurance, if they are in fact covered at the time of illness. Personally, I had to open a credit card to pay for previous dental work that I am still trying to pay for two years later, because the interest rate is sky high. If I were in America working the exact same job, I would not currently have any options to consider about my health care.
I do not say this lightly: thankfully, I am not in America.
I am in Japan, a country with socialized health care insurance and the world's highest life-expectancy rate. To be clear, about 80% of Japanese hospitals are privately owned, so it is not "socialized medicine," as NPR clarifies in an April article on the health care situation of Japan. Japan has what many Americans are fighting for now, universal health care. Specifically, a Public Option. Simply put, I can opt for National Health Insurance. Japan requires health care for everyone, but I can choose from three different programs:
1) Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)- Your company will provide you with this insurance if you are currently working full-time. Your deductible will come directly out of your paycheck and is a certain percentage of your earnings and will cover up to 70% of your medical bills. (Now the kicker is that full-time means 30 hours a week, I am reportedly working 29.5 and not full-time which makes me ineligible for this option.)
2) Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)- Opting into this plan means the government pays 70% of your treatment, while you pay the other 30%. This is the plan most students, unemployed and self-employed people have. The government sends you a bill every month like an insurance company but the amount you pay is based on residence tax, dependents and property owned.(This is the option I will have to choose)
3) Private Health Care- like America, you can choose your own personal health care option which gives you the coverage that you prefer at the costs you prefer. This option, for those who can afford it, usually means full-coverage, or at least more than 70% (which honestly isn't bad to begin with!)
In fact, the only people really complaining about Japanese health care are physicians. Japanese health care has limits on how much doctors can charge for operations and procedures. This is standardized across the country. While in America one doctor can charge an arm and a leg for an X-ray, the cost of imaging is the same all over Japan, and relatively cheaper.
Japanese people live longer than Americans because of diet as well as preventive care. They see a doctor three times as much as Americans according to T.R. Reid with NPR. And they see any doctor they want. Of course no health care plan is perfect, but the fact that I have choices, "options open to the public" if you will.
See, the thing people seem to be confused about is that the Public Option that the President is seeking is no different at all from the one already in place here in Japan and other intelligent developed countries. England's universal health care program began in 1911, but really expanded into the modern form in 1946 after the blitz of World War II. And England has learned that it's program isn't perfect and is currently seeking ways to reform it to improve hospitals and wait times. But at least it has a system in place to insure everyone has access to care. And no one in Japan has to declare bankruptcy because of unexpected hospital bills. It is a kick in the face that once a doctor saves your life you don't have much to life for when the bills pile up. Having a Public Option means I can choose to have private insurance or choose the government to assist me when I need health care. Knowing the government has a safety net for me makes me feel like an actual human being.
Which makes me afraid to figure out what will I be if I have to go back to the states and lose any coverage.
I'll continue to post about my journey through the scary path that is socialized health care.
Ikuzo.
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