I fucked up my back by not sneezing.

It’s a scientific fact that you should never stifle your sneezes. Because brain aneurysms and shit like that.  But I was pouring water into the coffee maker when the sneeze monster invaded my nostrils. But I crushed the sneeze monster rebellion, won the battle, and lost the war. You see, I care more about my coworkers having booger-free coffee than I care about not having a brain aneurysm. If anyone chides me for my selfish Western individualism when I want to take some time off and, y’know, see my parents once every few years, I’ll be sure to bring that up.

But anyway, while I didn’t get a brain aneurysm from suppressing a double sneeze, I did manage to pinch a nerve in my neck. I found this out yesterday when, after a week of sore back and shoulder muscles, I found that getting out of bed was painful and difficult due to the weight of my head sending shooting electric agony down to my left shoulder blade. I was immobilized like that nerdy turtle guy on Rocko’s Modern Life when he gets flipped over on his back.

I’m OK. I’m OK. Oh fishsticks.

So anyway the doctor looked at my X-rays and said I have narrow discs that leave me vulnerable to a pinched nerve. Brought on by the impact of a violent sneeze being redirected from the surrounding air (and my coworkers’ coffee) where it belonged, to my upper spine where it smashed a couple of vertebrae together and knocked the nerve out of place. That’s some jiu jutsu shit.

So… don’t hold your sneezes, kids.


all apologies

I’m a bit late to the party on this one, but the Japanese PM recently apologized for the Second World War. Well, sort of. In a sense. But not really.  The world has been waiting for Japan to apologize like Willy Brandt falling to his knees at the site of the former Warsaw ghetto.

That sort of stunt is not bloody likely to happen here. I’ve come up with my own theories as to why that is, according to situations I’ve been in which… all right, in no way resemble international politics. But it’s my damn blog and not a sociology dissertation, so here I go.

In the West, transgressions and apologies generally require guilt, as in a feeling of remorse. This is probably a by-product of the whole Judeo-Christian original sin thing.  The logic goes like this: you did something bad, therefore you are bad, and you should feel bad. So when you apologize to someone, you should express just how badly you feel about what you did and the extent to which you are willing to wallow in your self-loathing guilt in order to prove that you’re not a horrible person.

In Japan, apologies are a bit different. You often hear “I’m sorry this happened to you,” “I’m sorry you had to miss dinner on account of me,” “It was not the intention to offend anybody with the racially dubious Whiteface routine,” and so on. To Westerners, this sounds like a total cop-out due to the lack of (perceived) remorse or guilt about the wrongdoing. This is because, to the Japanese, empathy is more important than guilt. If someone crossed you and needs to apologize, the Transgressor will be explicit about their understanding of how the wrongdoing affected the Transgressed. When you’re the one who’s done something wrong, others want you to understand how it affected other people, the “group,” the society at large, or whatever. No one expects you to show or even feel guilt, because no one gives a shit how you feel about it, because it isn’t about you.  

Now, that’s the best-case scenario. There other apologies that happen when Person A is mildly inconvenienced. For example, the coffee shop is out of non-dairy creamer and won’t be available for another 7 minutes. In this sort of case, Person B will bow and scrape and grovel as if they’d just run down Person A’s firstborn child or something.

It looks a lot like this:


But then at times when  it most unequivocally is Person B’s fault, and it is a big deal, they’ll act like nothing happened. Which very well might explain the 30 or so years after the Second World War.

well you asked.

People at my work feel the need to loudly announce where they are going during the working day. I find this disconcerting. First off, no one cares that you’re going to the bank or the post office. Second, you startled the hell out of me with your noisy announcement and the subsequent choral response from the rest of the office. Honestly, knock it off. I wanted a job, not indoctrination into a cult.

I prefer to duck in and out as unceremoniously as possible. Even when I’m leaving the office at the contractually stipulated time, I can feel everyone’s judgey little eyes on me and would really just prefer everyone pretend it’s not happening. Hiding an extra pair of shoes outside the other door so I can slip out unnoticed is a point I have not stooped to… yet. I’m not sure why, but it always feels a bit devious when I leave my desk, like I’m playing hooky even though what I’m doing outside is far more productive than what I could ever be doing whilst chained to my desk. Except said hooky doesn’t even feel devious in a “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” subversive cool sort of way.
So maybe one of these days I’ll start announcing where I am going too.  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. I need to drop a deuce and it’s probably going to be nasty, so I’ll just go use the shitter at the electronics store across the way instead. No, no need to thank me for my courtesy. I’m just that goddamned considerate.”
That would probably end the destination-announcing.


For some reason the cultural norm here is for professional women from young adulthood all the way to upper middle age to speak like Chihuahuas when addressing authority. Specifically male authority, of which most authority round here is of the betesticled variety. So far no one has demanded that I do my best impression of Kyary Pyamu Pyamu auditioning for a porno. Thank fuck for that. But just listening to it… ugh. It elicits this Pavlovian eye-twitch response in me.

It would actually be easier to deal with if my colleagues were a lot of heinous über-bitches, but they aren’t. Honestly, they’re lovely people. So that makes the hypothetical conversation even more ridiculous. “Oh no, no, Yuko. It’s not that I dislike you, far from it. It’s just that I want to rip the phone receiver out of your hand and smack you upside the head with it every time you use it. Nothing personal.”