You bet your ass they do.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, go on to youtube or something similar and look up "waack," spelled exactly that way.
See, I really don't have a style. I guess it might be hip-hop if I had to pick, but even then I feel I dance a little bit weirder than that. However, to be perfectly honest, a competition I went to a while back had people in the hip-hop genre who I would've definitely put in the freestyle, and vice-versa. To each their own, I s'pose.
So, ever the hoarder, when I see a move, step, or banger that I like, I think to myself, "hey, let's go learn that." As a consequence there are a bunch of things running around my head from different styles and genres. The game is making them fit together. I haven't won that game, yet. In my mind's eye they would flow together seamlessly (of course) and look really bad-ass (of course). There would be smooth moves leading up to hard-pauses, and fast steps with big stops to flop onto the floor and crank something out similar to footwork from breakdancing, all to crescendo up into a freeze, popping out of that and languidly body rolling my way out of the battle circle.
See, that would be cool. (Maybe words aren't the right medium for describing this. //shit)
As of recently, the thing that's caught my eye is waacking, which really works the arms. They whip and twirl them around their body, articulating the beat of the music. There aren't so many "big" moves as you may find in other styles, and so a lot of the performance is based on linking smaller moves together in quick succession. In a sense, it's like a lot of blocks of 2 8-counts or 3 8-counts . //possibly talking out of my ass. This is just from what I've seen
And I want to learn it. As a guy, I'm definitely out of the norm, especially since waacking somewhat lends itself to vogue, another dance style predominantly performed by women. But fuck that shit, right? All about breaking gender norms and tearing down those oppressive social constructs. And to be frank, people really don't care so much within the dance community over here as long as you're good at what you're doing. Practice hard, dance well, and even a performance while rocking a bagelhead will receive applause.
// End waack talk //
Anywho, anyway, waywho, yahoo? This past weekend was a lot of me time, which is perfectly fine. Saturday was spent doing 3 loads of laundry including my karate gi, cleaning up the room, making dinner and lunch for Sat/Sun (big meals and storing for later), getting some homework done, and then capping the day off with a battle hosted by the club I'm in, 8-street. Unfortunately, I wasn't yet part of the mailing list for the group so I didn't get a chance to register beforehand, but that has been rectified. Regardless, watching the battle itself was a real treat. Nobody from our circle made it into the final 4, which while not completely surprising, but still somewhat upsetting. However, it was definitely understandable, considering the people that came out from Osaka and the surrounding towns were disgustingly good. The format of the tournament was 2-person teams, with hip-hop, breaking, waacking, locking, and popping all represented. The final itself was between two breaking teams and was hella fun to watch. My interest, though, was in the hip-hop teams and I managed to get a few videos of them.
After the battle finished, audience members and battlers alike broke up into dance circles and took turns performing in the center. Here is where I finally got a chance to let out some steam and break it down for a bit.
Today, Sunday, was spent with some more homework, finishing up Kafka on the Shore by Murakami, and a nice 2 hour long bike ride around the area. The weather was great today and going out for a ride seemed like the right thing to do. In addition, one of the characters in Kafka on the Shore kept listening to Radio Head throughout the book and I realized it's been a long time since I've listened to them. After putting Kid A and Hail to the Thief on my iPod, I sped off into the day, listening to both without a break between.
Well, that's it for now. Peace.
OH, AND THANKSGIVING FOOD IS FUCKIN' DELICIOUS. AND I MADE THE BOMB-ASS BANANA CHOCOLATE CHIP BREAD FOR DESSERT. GET ON MY LEVEL. ACTUALLY, GET ON VERONICA'S LEVEL. SHE MADE THANKSGIVING DINNER FOR 9 PEOPLE. FUCKING AWESOME. 尊敬
CAPS LOCK CRUISE CONTROL
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Nature and Small Children, Good Sources of Amazement
Howdy y'all. How are things these days? How's life?
Kanazawa has fallen into a familiar pattern of grey rainy days that clear up into patches of thick, dark clouds with a clear blue sky or setting sun sitting behind to outline them. Naturally, carrying an umbrella has become a thing. And putting on waterproof boots. And tossing on a couple extra layers to guard against the wind when it blows. And rockin' a beanie - the long stretch of mid-fall to spring where Graham wears the same damned beanie every day has begun, and it is glorious.
However, outside of a few changes to wardrobe and accessories (can you call an umbrella an accessory?), life chugs on in the same happy fashion it has been. It's almost strange. Things should't be going this well. The air holds this tension, as if the whole world is holding its breath waiting for the bubble to pop. I mean, shit, how long can someone hold their breath for? Maybe I'm just not used to lulls this long. Where's a big ol' needle when ya need it?
There are moments, though, where I forget about it. Take, for example, this past weekend where I was able to experience two awesome and completely unrelated things: the colors of the changing season, and a dance battle.
Saturday, the 10th, I ventured off to Kurobe, a place about two hours away by bus from Kanazawa.
A friend of mine, Willy, has some buddies in the Indonesian community in Kanazawa, and as such, was invited to come with them and see the season's colors in Kurobe. In addition, though, he was told he could invite whomever he wanted - voila! I, Silvia, and Veronica found ourselves stuck in the middle of a big group of Indonesian families all going to see the trees and mountains in Kurobe.
And shit. I mean, shit. When I first heard about this excursion I was interested yet not ecstatic. It seemed like a cool chance to visit some other places in Japan and it was relatively hassel free since all I had to do was pony up the bus/train fare. I'm down for that.
But I was shocked. I find myself impressed with nature every now and then, but those moments usually last the span of a couple thoughts or breaths, and then I move on. This trip, however, was an entire fucking day of appreciation.
And this wasn't the kind of half-assed appreciation you find yourself doling out when you go to the museum and see an exhibit you know nothing about. You know the feeling, don't you? You stop at each painting or sculpture, and because you've heard that the average time spent looking at each work is a scant ~10-15 seconds, you force yourself to try and "appreciate" the painting in an effort to really find the value in it, standing there for 20 or more seconds and really digesting the colors, brush strokes, shapes, shadows, lines, etc. And yet, that extra 5 or so seconds doesn't enlighten you. You don't feel absorbed into the work, enthralled with what it says. All it amounts to is something you stared at for another 5 seconds.
Well yeah, fuck that shit. This day was spent devouring the landscape, and not because I felt obligated to, but because it just felt right: "This is some pretty heavy stuff. Me gusta."
Just take a second to enjoy, ok?
(Oh, and to give you an idea of the actual picture taking process, I was on a train which wound through the mountains, passing in and out of tunnels. This made taking pictures somewhat tricky as I had to fight for window space, time it right between passing rails and pillars, as well as standing straight so the pictures came out somewhat not-lopsided. If you add all of these hindrances together, in conjunction with my pisspoor skill as a photographer, you can understand why I am amazed with how these photos came out. I mean, that's the only reason I'm showing these. I think they're purtty and I like them. In all honesty, my pictures do no justice to what I saw, but at least it gives you an idea.)
And yeah, in addition to whole being amazed by nature and shit, I met a few cool cats along the way. Everyone on the trip was really welcoming and it was a good time. A darn good time. Cap the day off with a nice sleepy bus ride back, wine and pasta with Anthony, Silvia, Veronica, and Saori while watching The Princess Bride, and you got yourself a memory to hold on to for a while.
The very next day I spent being amazed by man, not nature. Okay, I apologize for that segue. Shit. That's pretty bad.
Regardless, Sunday I spent the day at a dance battle, spectating, taking pictures and vids, and generally being wowed by what I was watching. The group I'm in, 8-Street, had a few members taking part, and a lot more in the audience rooting them on. The event was held at a smell venue on the fourth floor of a random building - this hole in the wall club. The dance floor was thronged with spectators who would back up to the edges and sit down on the floor, eating up the bouts before them, cheering for friends, and clapping when something ridiculous happened. Which happened a lot.
The event itself was broken up into 3on3 freestyle, Pop, Locking, and Waack. If you're not sure what these mean I advise you go peep some educational clips on youtube and learn yourself something about a little something something. This shit's ridiculous. And everyone at the event was pretty good (or at least by my standards, which may not mean much, to be honest; I'm still at the bottom of the hill and can't see how high up it is or understand how hard it is to get there). Yet, besides the overall skill of the people there, the biggest surprise was the number of kids who entered the battle. And these weren't kids who showed up to get some experience and practice battling in front of a crowd. No. Not even a little bit. These were dancers who were monsters in their own right and came to win. A few made it to the semis in their respective genres (Locking, 3on3), and one even won (Locking).
It's incredibly interesting to look at the differences between kids performing and adults performing under the same genre. The differences in body and mentality definitely showed, with the kids hitting hard and fast movements that they only pulled off because they had that much less to swing around, and the adults showing practice in technique and finesse, with a lot of finer movements and fundamentals nailed down really well. Shit was cray cray.
And all amazing. Going to one of these events is the perfect kick-in-the-ass, motivation building kind of thing. I feel it may be the same in most competitions, regardless of what the activity is. You come and enjoy yourself and see how much wider the pond really is, and how much deeper it really goes. What you thought to be a shallow puddle before actually extends meters below the surface, and if you take the time and energy to dive down there you may find yourself in an underwater cave and shit. Pretty awesome, right? (Not sure where that analogy went. Just deal with it)
But yeah. Here's to another week of life.
Kanazawa has fallen into a familiar pattern of grey rainy days that clear up into patches of thick, dark clouds with a clear blue sky or setting sun sitting behind to outline them. Naturally, carrying an umbrella has become a thing. And putting on waterproof boots. And tossing on a couple extra layers to guard against the wind when it blows. And rockin' a beanie - the long stretch of mid-fall to spring where Graham wears the same damned beanie every day has begun, and it is glorious.
However, outside of a few changes to wardrobe and accessories (can you call an umbrella an accessory?), life chugs on in the same happy fashion it has been. It's almost strange. Things should't be going this well. The air holds this tension, as if the whole world is holding its breath waiting for the bubble to pop. I mean, shit, how long can someone hold their breath for? Maybe I'm just not used to lulls this long. Where's a big ol' needle when ya need it?
There are moments, though, where I forget about it. Take, for example, this past weekend where I was able to experience two awesome and completely unrelated things: the colors of the changing season, and a dance battle.
Saturday, the 10th, I ventured off to Kurobe, a place about two hours away by bus from Kanazawa.
A friend of mine, Willy, has some buddies in the Indonesian community in Kanazawa, and as such, was invited to come with them and see the season's colors in Kurobe. In addition, though, he was told he could invite whomever he wanted - voila! I, Silvia, and Veronica found ourselves stuck in the middle of a big group of Indonesian families all going to see the trees and mountains in Kurobe.
And shit. I mean, shit. When I first heard about this excursion I was interested yet not ecstatic. It seemed like a cool chance to visit some other places in Japan and it was relatively hassel free since all I had to do was pony up the bus/train fare. I'm down for that.
But I was shocked. I find myself impressed with nature every now and then, but those moments usually last the span of a couple thoughts or breaths, and then I move on. This trip, however, was an entire fucking day of appreciation.
And this wasn't the kind of half-assed appreciation you find yourself doling out when you go to the museum and see an exhibit you know nothing about. You know the feeling, don't you? You stop at each painting or sculpture, and because you've heard that the average time spent looking at each work is a scant ~10-15 seconds, you force yourself to try and "appreciate" the painting in an effort to really find the value in it, standing there for 20 or more seconds and really digesting the colors, brush strokes, shapes, shadows, lines, etc. And yet, that extra 5 or so seconds doesn't enlighten you. You don't feel absorbed into the work, enthralled with what it says. All it amounts to is something you stared at for another 5 seconds.
Well yeah, fuck that shit. This day was spent devouring the landscape, and not because I felt obligated to, but because it just felt right: "This is some pretty heavy stuff. Me gusta."
Just take a second to enjoy, ok?
And yeah, in addition to whole being amazed by nature and shit, I met a few cool cats along the way. Everyone on the trip was really welcoming and it was a good time. A darn good time. Cap the day off with a nice sleepy bus ride back, wine and pasta with Anthony, Silvia, Veronica, and Saori while watching The Princess Bride, and you got yourself a memory to hold on to for a while.
The very next day I spent being amazed by man, not nature. Okay, I apologize for that segue. Shit. That's pretty bad.
Regardless, Sunday I spent the day at a dance battle, spectating, taking pictures and vids, and generally being wowed by what I was watching. The group I'm in, 8-Street, had a few members taking part, and a lot more in the audience rooting them on. The event was held at a smell venue on the fourth floor of a random building - this hole in the wall club. The dance floor was thronged with spectators who would back up to the edges and sit down on the floor, eating up the bouts before them, cheering for friends, and clapping when something ridiculous happened. Which happened a lot.
The event itself was broken up into 3on3 freestyle, Pop, Locking, and Waack. If you're not sure what these mean I advise you go peep some educational clips on youtube and learn yourself something about a little something something. This shit's ridiculous. And everyone at the event was pretty good (or at least by my standards, which may not mean much, to be honest; I'm still at the bottom of the hill and can't see how high up it is or understand how hard it is to get there). Yet, besides the overall skill of the people there, the biggest surprise was the number of kids who entered the battle. And these weren't kids who showed up to get some experience and practice battling in front of a crowd. No. Not even a little bit. These were dancers who were monsters in their own right and came to win. A few made it to the semis in their respective genres (Locking, 3on3), and one even won (Locking).
It's incredibly interesting to look at the differences between kids performing and adults performing under the same genre. The differences in body and mentality definitely showed, with the kids hitting hard and fast movements that they only pulled off because they had that much less to swing around, and the adults showing practice in technique and finesse, with a lot of finer movements and fundamentals nailed down really well. Shit was cray cray.
And all amazing. Going to one of these events is the perfect kick-in-the-ass, motivation building kind of thing. I feel it may be the same in most competitions, regardless of what the activity is. You come and enjoy yourself and see how much wider the pond really is, and how much deeper it really goes. What you thought to be a shallow puddle before actually extends meters below the surface, and if you take the time and energy to dive down there you may find yourself in an underwater cave and shit. Pretty awesome, right? (Not sure where that analogy went. Just deal with it)
But yeah. Here's to another week of life.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Booty Popping Culture Shock
So I had my first run-in with culture shock. According to my Japanese Ways of Thinking class, culture shock isn't the feeling another culture's ways of living directly confronting you, yet rather your interpretation of social situations not being current with what it actually is. In other words, it's not that a wall came and hit you, but instead that you didn't see the wall itself and walked right into it. Tricky walls.
Now, of course some people will question the necessity for a wall, or its placement, but they're missing the point. At the current moment there is a wall that they can't walk through. Walk around it. Maybe at some point later in time you may turn into a hulking juggernaut that can tear down that wall, but until then, it's easier from a mental and physical perspective to acknowledge its existence and moving on with your life.
So, you may be asking yourself, "Graham, what happened? Did you make an ass of yourself?" And the answer to that is, "no." I didn't make an ass of myself. All I did was learn a litte something something.
BACKGROUND::
So, I joined the dance circle, 8-Street, to make friends, enjoy myself, and get better at dancing. Within 8-Street there are various styles of dance, and each of these styles has its own group. The largest groups are break dancing and locking, with the smaller groups being hip-hop, house, girls hip-hop, and popping. I had tried breakdancing my freshman year of Tufts and was ready to try something a little bit different. Hip-Hop it is! (Tangentially, joining hip-hop has already expanded my repertoire of "cool shit" when dancing at parties.)
Now, my life philosophy for a long while has been "be honest" and "be happy." Simple things, yet oddly difficult to follow through on. Maybe that means they're really not that simple. //stopping myself before the pontification begins
END BACKGROUND::
Upon coming to Japan, my "be happy" philosophy broke down into a few more specific things: make friends (Japanese AND foreigners), have fun, and get good at something you like (Japanese, dancing, tell bad jokes, etc.). With those slightly more directed thoughts, I joined 8-Street, hoping to make friends, have fun, and get good at dancing. My main idea behind it, though, was to enjoy myself. If I wasn't having fun, what was the point of being there?
And I didn't get it.
Yes, you should enjoy what you're doing; it helps keep you motivated and yearning for more. However, upon stepping into the hip-hop group's dance, I was making a commitment to place the group's overall performance before my immediate concerns. Now, that sounds like a very stereotypical Japanese way of thinking - the group, not the individual - yet it makes sense. I can dance for myself whenever I want. I can have fun whenever I want. Yet the second I say I'll be part of the group, that is my tacit agreement to step it the fuck up and make sure my moves hit at the right time as everyone else's do, that my spot in the formation doesn't break, that my looking good is a consequence of the group looking together.
I can't be an self-centered kid about this. However, this doesn't mean the death of happiness and enjoying myself, it just means approaching it differently; I know the wall is there, now work with it. Get my little moments of stupid humor when I can, take pride and enjoyment from getting the choreography right, pocket that sense of accomplishment when the performance breathes as a single, living thing. (A little much, but it's phenomenal what good group choreography looks like).
And I can only thank this realization to Rin-san, the man heading the house/hip-hop group. He's a fun guy with a goofy smile, yet he holds a fierce seriousness about dancing and putting in the time.
"Get your shit together," is how he explained it to me. (Many more words were used, some much more eloquent, but that was the ultimate message)
And so yeah, Rin-san, I think I got my shit together. Am I nervous about tomorrow's performance? No. Not really. I've put in too much time to be worried. At this point it's letting my body go into auto-pilot and hoping there aren't any pot holes. (I'm pretty sure those ever-so-dutiful butterflies will find their way into my stomach tomorrow, but for now I'm keeping them at bay)
Time spent practicing this week: 20+ hours
Let's see what happens.
Now, of course some people will question the necessity for a wall, or its placement, but they're missing the point. At the current moment there is a wall that they can't walk through. Walk around it. Maybe at some point later in time you may turn into a hulking juggernaut that can tear down that wall, but until then, it's easier from a mental and physical perspective to acknowledge its existence and moving on with your life.
So, you may be asking yourself, "Graham, what happened? Did you make an ass of yourself?" And the answer to that is, "no." I didn't make an ass of myself. All I did was learn a litte something something.
BACKGROUND::
So, I joined the dance circle, 8-Street, to make friends, enjoy myself, and get better at dancing. Within 8-Street there are various styles of dance, and each of these styles has its own group. The largest groups are break dancing and locking, with the smaller groups being hip-hop, house, girls hip-hop, and popping. I had tried breakdancing my freshman year of Tufts and was ready to try something a little bit different. Hip-Hop it is! (Tangentially, joining hip-hop has already expanded my repertoire of "cool shit" when dancing at parties.)
Now, my life philosophy for a long while has been "be honest" and "be happy." Simple things, yet oddly difficult to follow through on. Maybe that means they're really not that simple. //stopping myself before the pontification begins
END BACKGROUND::
Upon coming to Japan, my "be happy" philosophy broke down into a few more specific things: make friends (Japanese AND foreigners), have fun, and get good at something you like (Japanese, dancing, tell bad jokes, etc.). With those slightly more directed thoughts, I joined 8-Street, hoping to make friends, have fun, and get good at dancing. My main idea behind it, though, was to enjoy myself. If I wasn't having fun, what was the point of being there?
And I didn't get it.
Yes, you should enjoy what you're doing; it helps keep you motivated and yearning for more. However, upon stepping into the hip-hop group's dance, I was making a commitment to place the group's overall performance before my immediate concerns. Now, that sounds like a very stereotypical Japanese way of thinking - the group, not the individual - yet it makes sense. I can dance for myself whenever I want. I can have fun whenever I want. Yet the second I say I'll be part of the group, that is my tacit agreement to step it the fuck up and make sure my moves hit at the right time as everyone else's do, that my spot in the formation doesn't break, that my looking good is a consequence of the group looking together.
I can't be an self-centered kid about this. However, this doesn't mean the death of happiness and enjoying myself, it just means approaching it differently; I know the wall is there, now work with it. Get my little moments of stupid humor when I can, take pride and enjoyment from getting the choreography right, pocket that sense of accomplishment when the performance breathes as a single, living thing. (A little much, but it's phenomenal what good group choreography looks like).
And I can only thank this realization to Rin-san, the man heading the house/hip-hop group. He's a fun guy with a goofy smile, yet he holds a fierce seriousness about dancing and putting in the time.
"Get your shit together," is how he explained it to me. (Many more words were used, some much more eloquent, but that was the ultimate message)
And so yeah, Rin-san, I think I got my shit together. Am I nervous about tomorrow's performance? No. Not really. I've put in too much time to be worried. At this point it's letting my body go into auto-pilot and hoping there aren't any pot holes. (I'm pretty sure those ever-so-dutiful butterflies will find their way into my stomach tomorrow, but for now I'm keeping them at bay)
Time spent practicing this week: 20+ hours
Let's see what happens.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)