2.2.09 Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport (DFW)
2.3.09 Central Japan International Airport (NGO)
I am forty-five days away from being an ex-pat again. I have been slowly getting everything ready for my trip, including buying a new laptop, suits, shirts, ties, cuff links, shoes, etc. I am preparing to make my formal goodbyes and compile a huge list of contact information. But, honestly, it is hard to explain how I landed myself in this position to begin with.
Like any good story, this too has a beginning.
One day in September, right before Hurricane Gustav, I was sitting on my father's couch job-hunting. I moved to Dallas, TX in an attempt to be closer to Austin so when the opportunity to relocate presented itself, I could easily pack up and head down. Unlike Baton Rouge, Austin is a great hub for artists. As a graduate of theatre from Louisiana State University, I was going to begin my formal career in the theatre there. While searching for a temporary solution I came across an advertisement to work in Japan teaching English.
Normally I would have passed it up, but three factors persuaded me to look into it. First, I really didn't have anything better to do than work in Japan. Seriously. I have been out of school since 2006 and the job market for theatre majors is much smaller than it should be, considering the widely-varied skills we learn from public speaking to carpentry. Second, I wanted to direct the Shakespearean tragedy/bloodbath Titus Andronicus with a Japanese aesthetic and the only way to research Japanese drama that is better than renting movies from the local public library is to actually live in Japan. Finally, I may be addicted to travel and the itch was rising.
As of September 20, I had signed a contract and became an employee with the GEOS company, an eikaiwa (English conversation school) with over 500 locations in Japan. A McDonald's of English conversation if you will.
As of December 5, I learned that I will be living in a city called Hamamatsu, the largest city in the Shizuoka prefecture, in the Chūbu region on the main island of Honshu. Translation, equally two hours from both Tokyo and Kyoto and an hour southeast of Nagoya.
As of December 17, I know I will be flying out on February 2nd to arrive February 3rd at 19:00.
As my associate Nate always reminds me: take it one day at a time. So, I will. And I will document those days here, just to share my world with my family who I will undoubtedly miss. I am glad we have been down this road before when I went to England and I still cannot believe how much love and support I've gotten from such a radical decision. If there is one thing I've learned as an ex-pat, home is a state of mind. And with the supportive people I have in my life, I will always take a piece of home with me everywhere I go.
And just like that, I am blogging again.
19 December, 2008
12 February, 2006
"We are still shuckin' and jivin'."
I started to make a small statement and it took every ounce of my being to not scream, cry, yell, berate, or simply expose 21 years of feeling like... like an octoroon. I couldn't stop shaking, and I was too afraid to make my real point, but saying "we are still shuckin' and jivin'" really hit me. Hard.
Times like these I wished I still wrote for the newspaper. This would have made a great column.
At the dawn of the nineteenth century, a form of popular entertainment in America is the minstrel show. Performers of these productions were white men who wore burnt cork, greasepaint, or shoe polish on their faces and exaggerated the features of the eyes and lips with makeup in order to caricaturize blacks. It was so successful that blacks got in on the show to escape menial jobs of the time. Swallowing any pride, they donned the blackface and began singing and dancing, shuckin' and jivin', at their own expense.
The era of the minstrel show is long past. Jim Crow, the most famous minstrel character, has taken his final curtain call. The smell of burning cork no longer haunts the backstage of the theatre. Today, we live in a "cultured" society and we demand that no differentiating characterizations be portrayed stereotypically on-stage, regardless of purpose or relevancy to contemporary society. Harrumph! We find blackface offensive.
Oh, excuse me, is it African-American face now?
Blacks have become acclimated into American society but an air of minstrelsy still lingers in our modern-day polluted air. A lot of the assumptions and stereotypes that arose from minstrel shows are still a part of our vernacular. It may not be alright for someone to paint their face black in blatant mockery, but you calling someone a big black man in order to describe how imposing he appears is certainly acceptable; we all know through cultural upbringing there is a vast discrepancy between a big black man and a big white man (sarcasm). We still think it inoffensive to mention how well blacks can dance, or attribute athleticism to race.
We no longer put on the makeup, but we are stilling selling the idea of what it is to be black. Instead of burlap, we wear baggy pants that hang far below the waist. Wearing shoe polish has been replaced with gold teeth. The music of Bones and Tambor is now called rap, and Mr. Interlocutor (the only figure of the minstrel show in whiteface) has gotten a job as a record label producer, helping to promulgate this image as far as possible.
We want to tell the world that we think it is unfair for them to mock us with minstrel shows and we would cry offense if one was to be performed today, while we are still on-stage giving everyone else a show of caricatures. We even take these roles to mean ethnic identity and anyone who does not share the similar features (not exaggerated mouths but use of slang and the phrase "you know what I'm saying" incessantly) is not black. And although I continue to say we, it is my very awareness of this show and refusal to be a performer that some individuals- black, white or otherwise- do not consider me "black."
Most of this piece is based on Irish author Dion Boucicault's play, The Octoroon, written in 1859 about a woman who is one-eighth black. While she doesn't look the part or talks in an elevated, more eloquent form than that of the other blacks in the play, she still has black blood running through her veins.
I can relate to her. I don't adhere to the ridiculous cultural norm that seemingly defines "blackness" but I am no less black because of my blood. And I am tired, almost 22 years of tired, of having people question that blood.
I am tired of people telling me or others that I am surprisingly eloquent, as if it isn't possible for a black male to be articulate. I am tired of people assuming I play basketball or that I must be a good dancer without having seen me do either. No, I have never played the drums. Yes, I can swim- fairly well actually. No, just because I want a career in the theatre does not mean I support Tyler Perry and the rest of the "chitlin circuit." The first play I write will have nothing to do with Big Mama. I'm not donning the ideal of "blackness" to entertain you any further.
The days of blackface are over, but we are still shuckin' and jivin'.
You know what I'm saying?
I started to make a small statement and it took every ounce of my being to not scream, cry, yell, berate, or simply expose 21 years of feeling like... like an octoroon. I couldn't stop shaking, and I was too afraid to make my real point, but saying "we are still shuckin' and jivin'" really hit me. Hard.
Times like these I wished I still wrote for the newspaper. This would have made a great column.
At the dawn of the nineteenth century, a form of popular entertainment in America is the minstrel show. Performers of these productions were white men who wore burnt cork, greasepaint, or shoe polish on their faces and exaggerated the features of the eyes and lips with makeup in order to caricaturize blacks. It was so successful that blacks got in on the show to escape menial jobs of the time. Swallowing any pride, they donned the blackface and began singing and dancing, shuckin' and jivin', at their own expense.
The era of the minstrel show is long past. Jim Crow, the most famous minstrel character, has taken his final curtain call. The smell of burning cork no longer haunts the backstage of the theatre. Today, we live in a "cultured" society and we demand that no differentiating characterizations be portrayed stereotypically on-stage, regardless of purpose or relevancy to contemporary society. Harrumph! We find blackface offensive.
Oh, excuse me, is it African-American face now?
Blacks have become acclimated into American society but an air of minstrelsy still lingers in our modern-day polluted air. A lot of the assumptions and stereotypes that arose from minstrel shows are still a part of our vernacular. It may not be alright for someone to paint their face black in blatant mockery, but you calling someone a big black man in order to describe how imposing he appears is certainly acceptable; we all know through cultural upbringing there is a vast discrepancy between a big black man and a big white man (sarcasm). We still think it inoffensive to mention how well blacks can dance, or attribute athleticism to race.
We no longer put on the makeup, but we are stilling selling the idea of what it is to be black. Instead of burlap, we wear baggy pants that hang far below the waist. Wearing shoe polish has been replaced with gold teeth. The music of Bones and Tambor is now called rap, and Mr. Interlocutor (the only figure of the minstrel show in whiteface) has gotten a job as a record label producer, helping to promulgate this image as far as possible.
We want to tell the world that we think it is unfair for them to mock us with minstrel shows and we would cry offense if one was to be performed today, while we are still on-stage giving everyone else a show of caricatures. We even take these roles to mean ethnic identity and anyone who does not share the similar features (not exaggerated mouths but use of slang and the phrase "you know what I'm saying" incessantly) is not black. And although I continue to say we, it is my very awareness of this show and refusal to be a performer that some individuals- black, white or otherwise- do not consider me "black."
Most of this piece is based on Irish author Dion Boucicault's play, The Octoroon, written in 1859 about a woman who is one-eighth black. While she doesn't look the part or talks in an elevated, more eloquent form than that of the other blacks in the play, she still has black blood running through her veins.
I can relate to her. I don't adhere to the ridiculous cultural norm that seemingly defines "blackness" but I am no less black because of my blood. And I am tired, almost 22 years of tired, of having people question that blood.
I am tired of people telling me or others that I am surprisingly eloquent, as if it isn't possible for a black male to be articulate. I am tired of people assuming I play basketball or that I must be a good dancer without having seen me do either. No, I have never played the drums. Yes, I can swim- fairly well actually. No, just because I want a career in the theatre does not mean I support Tyler Perry and the rest of the "chitlin circuit." The first play I write will have nothing to do with Big Mama. I'm not donning the ideal of "blackness" to entertain you any further.
The days of blackface are over, but we are still shuckin' and jivin'.
You know what I'm saying?
21 December, 2005
Busy semester
Hello accurately-predicted grades. (3.68 GPA this semester- five As, two Bs, one really long, tough semester; 3.30 LSU total) Goodbye Nip/Tuck. It was a great third season, followed by a great finale, and now I officially have no reason to watch television. It's a good thing.
I don't think I can do "Antigone" and JD's show ("Tennessee Williams in Quarter Time") simultaneously. "Antigone"'s run ends a week before "Tennessee" begins. And while I'm sure I won't be doing much in JD's show, I don't want to step on either of their toes, when there are other people capable of being in either show... well, being a guard. I like the cast and the process- I've been wanting to act with most of these people and Renegade Shakespeare for a while now, but I want to work with JD and the professional actors even more and he asked me first, though without giving me dates or anything.
I hate to say it, but there are great contacts to be made there, not to mention great talent to observe/study. When the play list was up I really wanted to be in it but when I found out I couldn't I was disheartened. So, when JD asked me anyway to be in it, my heart dropped. I need to talk to Chels tomorrow.
I think it's ironic that the semester I am devoting to writing and directing is the one in which I am cast in three shows (four, Katie Sills, four). I guess bad actors get cast too. Hell, Kevin Costner had a career.
I don't think I can do "Antigone" and JD's show ("Tennessee Williams in Quarter Time") simultaneously. "Antigone"'s run ends a week before "Tennessee" begins. And while I'm sure I won't be doing much in JD's show, I don't want to step on either of their toes, when there are other people capable of being in either show... well, being a guard. I like the cast and the process- I've been wanting to act with most of these people and Renegade Shakespeare for a while now, but I want to work with JD and the professional actors even more and he asked me first, though without giving me dates or anything.
I hate to say it, but there are great contacts to be made there, not to mention great talent to observe/study. When the play list was up I really wanted to be in it but when I found out I couldn't I was disheartened. So, when JD asked me anyway to be in it, my heart dropped. I need to talk to Chels tomorrow.
I think it's ironic that the semester I am devoting to writing and directing is the one in which I am cast in three shows (four, Katie Sills, four). I guess bad actors get cast too. Hell, Kevin Costner had a career.
22 September, 2005
Keep on keeping on
Heavy in rehearsals again.
I need to learn these lines. I cannot act until the script is out of my hands. I cannot get the script out until I learn the lines.
Vicious circles my friends.
Why do I write these?
Why?
I need to learn these lines. I cannot act until the script is out of my hands. I cannot get the script out until I learn the lines.
Vicious circles my friends.
Why do I write these?
Why?
06 September, 2005
Fuck.
The world around me is collapsing, dying, drowning, waiting, sleeping, crying, alone. But I am keep having some of the best days of my life day to day. I don't need to take on anyone else's suffering, but I wish there was a way to lease out some happiness. I just... don't know how to get it jumpstarted.
Please, everyone, just believe and have faith. It's not my style to tell you what to believe in or where to place your faith, but damnit believe in something and someone and you'd know that you did try, especially when you can't be there.
The world around me is collapsing, dying, drowning, waiting, sleeping, crying, alone. But I am keep having some of the best days of my life day to day. I don't need to take on anyone else's suffering, but I wish there was a way to lease out some happiness. I just... don't know how to get it jumpstarted.
Please, everyone, just believe and have faith. It's not my style to tell you what to believe in or where to place your faith, but damnit believe in something and someone and you'd know that you did try, especially when you can't be there.
07 July, 2005
Right to be wrong
Yesterday, I said- plain as day- that I wouldn't be surprised if terrorists attacked today.
When I woke up this morning, I was very much surprised. Terrorists attacked today.
Yesterday the entire city of London was the most excited place in the world; now it's immobolized by bombings along multiple tube stops and even buses were bombed. IRA? ETA? Al Qaeda? Casualities are low when compared to 11 March and 11 September, but that doesn't rank it in any capacity.
I'm in Brighton and our station was closed for some hours due to a lone suitcase in a phone booth. It was just confirmed to not be a bomb, but I still feel so sick to my stomach. While I'm thankful I'm 40 minutes away from London (and freaked because I'm 10 minutes away from Brighton Station), I have so many friends in London for which I am afraid. All I can do is pray for their safety and hope the authorities continue to handle these attacks as effectively as they have been doing.
sigh. I'm going out tonight.xx
When I woke up this morning, I was very much surprised. Terrorists attacked today.
Yesterday the entire city of London was the most excited place in the world; now it's immobolized by bombings along multiple tube stops and even buses were bombed. IRA? ETA? Al Qaeda? Casualities are low when compared to 11 March and 11 September, but that doesn't rank it in any capacity.
I'm in Brighton and our station was closed for some hours due to a lone suitcase in a phone booth. It was just confirmed to not be a bomb, but I still feel so sick to my stomach. While I'm thankful I'm 40 minutes away from London (and freaked because I'm 10 minutes away from Brighton Station), I have so many friends in London for which I am afraid. All I can do is pray for their safety and hope the authorities continue to handle these attacks as effectively as they have been doing.
sigh. I'm going out tonight.xx
23 May, 2005
Right.
Hectic two months since I last left a post. A few people have been wondering how life has been treating the kid. Well, life is going just fine. I am happy to say that someone up above still likes me and that while I am left wanting, it's a much better life than left needing.
And that's as much philosophical wax I'm going to melt tonight.
I got a job a two weeks ago working as the Assistant to the Director of Meadows and Passmore, a clock part manufacturing company in Portslade, Brighton (a 20 minute train ride from Flamer, Brighton where I am living on campus). It is a rather flexible job, I can come and go as I please (as long as I work fifteen hours-personal goal and the max an exchange student can work during term time- and I'm actually benefiting the company while I'm there!) and I make £6.50 an hour. Conversion = approx. $12.50. I just do all the things he is too busy to do, like designing envelopes for "No postage necessary" Royal Mail services, creating an organizational system for his files and clients, and calling a guy about his car.
Yeah. I know.
Classes are over, but I'm waiting for exams. And I've got the travel bug again (or some other gastrointestinal infestation...) so during the summer after making some good money, I'm going to either go to Spain (Ibiza) or back to Paris. Nah... I missed out on Amsterdam once, shouldn't do it again.
Here's what you really wanted... pictures:
Nice family fun for everyone... a Nude Beach
Brighton's Seafront
No caption necessary
The backside of our lady (er... Notre Dame)
The res(idence) halls in Sussex Uni in the snow. I live in the flat ones on the right.
Thanksgiving Dinner
Sober as a judge
Um...
I'm officially coming home around the fifteenth of August. My play ends on the thirteenth and I'm going to come back down to Brighton from Edinburgh, Scotland to collect my things, spend one last night in my favourite city, and I'll peace out on the fifteenth. Once I actually purchase a ticket, I'll fill in all the specifics.
More later. Love as always and the mush mush.xx
Hectic two months since I last left a post. A few people have been wondering how life has been treating the kid. Well, life is going just fine. I am happy to say that someone up above still likes me and that while I am left wanting, it's a much better life than left needing.
And that's as much philosophical wax I'm going to melt tonight.
I got a job a two weeks ago working as the Assistant to the Director of Meadows and Passmore, a clock part manufacturing company in Portslade, Brighton (a 20 minute train ride from Flamer, Brighton where I am living on campus). It is a rather flexible job, I can come and go as I please (as long as I work fifteen hours-personal goal and the max an exchange student can work during term time- and I'm actually benefiting the company while I'm there!) and I make £6.50 an hour. Conversion = approx. $12.50. I just do all the things he is too busy to do, like designing envelopes for "No postage necessary" Royal Mail services, creating an organizational system for his files and clients, and calling a guy about his car.
Yeah. I know.
Classes are over, but I'm waiting for exams. And I've got the travel bug again (or some other gastrointestinal infestation...) so during the summer after making some good money, I'm going to either go to Spain (Ibiza) or back to Paris. Nah... I missed out on Amsterdam once, shouldn't do it again.
Here's what you really wanted... pictures:
Nice family fun for everyone... a Nude Beach
Brighton's Seafront
No caption necessary
The backside of our lady (er... Notre Dame)
The res(idence) halls in Sussex Uni in the snow. I live in the flat ones on the right.
Thanksgiving Dinner
Sober as a judge
Um...
I'm officially coming home around the fifteenth of August. My play ends on the thirteenth and I'm going to come back down to Brighton from Edinburgh, Scotland to collect my things, spend one last night in my favourite city, and I'll peace out on the fifteenth. Once I actually purchase a ticket, I'll fill in all the specifics.
More later. Love as always and the mush mush.xx
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