Banks, Soft and Regular

So classes started this week.

Yeah, I know. I had the same kind of reaction, like someone slowly sinking their tightly balled fist into the pit of your stomach. Each moment passing, their middle knuckle digs deeper and deeper until you realize, "Shit. This is gonna hurt."

Or not.

We'll see. From what I've heard, the classes here, at least compared to Tufts, are much easier. The main commitment will be my Japanese class, but even that doesn't look like it will be too troublesome. Hopefully by the time I get my feet under me I'll be able to take weekend trips and adventure throughout the land. Leave Friday night on a bus, get off Saturday morning, explore like a polite viking, party hard in the night, crash on some kind stranger's futon (or in a capsule motel), wake up Sunday, wash off the dust, and return back home.

Rinse and repeat until my Japanese is phenomenal or my body gives up. :D

But yeah, my classes include Japanese 3 times/week (around the same level as 21 back at Tufts. We're even using Tobira here), Kanji, Writing, Reading, Education in Japan, Karate, and Japanese Culture something something yada yada.

Hold the phone, buddy. Karate? FUCK YEAH, KARATE. My teacher isn't Mr. Miyagi, but I've got the next best thing: a happy-go-lucky German guy that gets all sorts of serious when he puts on his Gi. It's honestly a 180 flip from his day to day personality. The first time I met him was at the introduction to foreign students and he came off as a very pleasant guy, if not a little bit goofy. But give that bloke a karate gi to wear, an open space to practice in, and a switch flips inside of him.

OSU
OSU
OSU
(tip for the future: bolded and italicized means shit just got real)

Now, you may be wondering, "what the fuck is the relationship between what has been written so far and the title?"

And I'll tell you the god damn answer if you just sit your uppity ass down and learn a little something something. Here on Graham's blog he types whatever the fuck he wants to type. Does that mean it's always interesting? Hell yeah, it does.

Does that mean it's always easy to follow? Shit, of course not. But don't worry, I'll be getting to the title right about........

now.

Yesterday (Wednesday), I went with my tutor and two friends to go open up a bank account, which is necessary for getting a cell phone. My interaction with the bank was actually pretty agreeable, considering that I thought it would be a bureaucratic nightmare since I'm a foreigner who will only be using their services for a year. I guess money is money is money is money. Make that world go round.

The only hiccup was that I'm a dumbass. However, that's a general hiccup in life so I didn't consider it to be the bank's fault. I managed to incorrectly write my information three times, wasting three different forms. However, 4th time is the lucky one, right? My friend, Mikko, who was filling out the forms alongside with me, managed to get it done on his second try. Go fuck yourself, Mikko. The last thing I need is someone somewhat capable making my already hapless self look even more useless.

After filling out forms, we sat down and patiently waited. During this waiting process the other friend that came, Abdullah, kept commentating on how long it was taking, and how his took less time. I mean really, Abdullah? You can go fuck yourself, too. And shit, you only took 3 tries to get the forms right. But, honestly, chiding was necessary. The length was probably a combination of the few people in front of us and my chicken scratch handwriting.
CURSE YOU PRIMARY SCHOOL, YOU AND YOUR INSUFFERABLE WRITING LESSONS THAT MADE ME FOREVER FIGHT THE SYSTEM OF NEAT PENMANSHIP.

However, the real monster of a task was getting a cell phone. Now, you may think, "wouldn't a bank account be more difficult and time consuming to open? Like, that's a pretty serious thing, right?"

AND YOU WOULD BE WRONG. DEAD FUCKING WRONG. LIKE SHOT AND BURIED 6 FEET UNDAH WRONG.

You'd be incorrect. We went to Softbank (ahh, now the pun becomes clear) and sat down, hoping to get the whole thing over with.

Getting a fucking phone took two fucking hours of fucking miserable exchanges between poor fucking Japanese speakers and poor fucking English speakers (I, unfortunately, belonging to both camps). Fuck. I mean, fuck, man. Ultimately, however, Mikko and I decided upon some easy to use, big buttoned flip phones that seemed functional enough. For $20 a month we could call and text people. The only off point was that it was a 2 year contract, and that in order to transfer it (say to someone coming next year), we'd have to pay a $30 charge, as well as keep our Japanese bank account open the entirety of the summer until that person got to Kanazawa. So, we can do that and save some money, or just pay up the entirety of the second year of the contract before we leave Japan. We'll see what happens.

But, lo and behold, the fun continues. Apparently Mikko and I bought old people phones, which now makes the whole step counter on the main screen a lot more understandable.

Whatever, it's done. I don't care if I got an ojii-chan phone; I'm just happy to be done.

PEACE,
BITCHES
(´盆`〟)