Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts

Friday, February 3, 2012

Teenage Jesus Pours Vodka on Cornflakes & Listens to Metallica! He Really Does! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 6








I don't remember the walk to D-41, my new hospital ward, but it couldn't have been very far. When the males nurses brought me from D-40 to D-41, I was carrying my few possessions; my drinking cup, toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and a few changes of underwear and tee-shirts. There wasn't any uniform to wear at the wards, only ones pajamas. Since at home I normally didn't use pajamas and slept in underwear and a tee-shirt all the time, I wore that at the hospital with some short pants. It was quite comfortable actually.


Before the door opened to D-41 I expected to see the same thing I saw at D-40; a bunch of people minding their own business and not really paying attention to the new patients. I wasn't as nervous as before because, as the doctors and nurses had told me, it was readily apparent that there were no dangerous or violent people in these wards at all. Everyone was crazy but they were gentle crazy and wouldn't hurt a fly. The dangerous and violent ones were kept separate.




I stood before the door of D-41 and, when they opened it, I could see at least twenty or so other patients looking straight at me. D-41 was twice the space of  of D-40 and my doctors told me that there were 60 patients there. In the back, of the people standing there looking at us, I thought I saw a very tall young man who didn't look Japanese, but I wasn't sure as I didn't have my glasses (didn't need them I thought). 


I was quite (and pleasantly) surprised to see that he was, indeed, another foreigner. What a joy! Even though I could speak Japanese, sometimes it is pleasant ( and restful to your mind) to be able to speak to others in your native tongue. Being foreigners in a foreign land he too seemed happy to have me, another foreigner, in D-41. He quickly came to greet me and shook my hand. His name was Rusulan and he was a young Russian man.


When I first saw him, I guessed him to be in his late twenties or, perhaps early thirties. But as we began to talk and I got a good up close look at him it became more and more apparent to me that this wasn't a guy who had fallen out of a job or a marriage due to addiction problems, this was only a boy! The more we talked, the more I began to think I was conversing with a person of high school age. Up close, Rusulan didn't look a day over 18-years-old, if that. He never told me his exact age but his story is unforgettable.


Rusulan had sandy blond hair and a rugged chin. He was a handsome young man and looked to be like the kind of guy you'd see in an advertisement for back-packing or camping equipment or even cigarettes. Though his face had some wrinkles, his skin had a youthful vigor to it. This is what confused me as to his age. Almost everyone who was in drug rehab in D-40 and D-41 seemed to be well over 30, though many of the mental patients were very young. Though it seemed as though Rusulan was well liked by all the other patients and staff, he seemed to me to be completely out of place here. 


Rusulan also had a very curious star shaped scar right in the middle of his forehead. After his very first greeting to me Rusulan asked me to sit down and talk so he could explain what was going on at D-41. He seemed perfectly normal (well, at first, they all do) so, after putting my stuff in my room, I sat with him to talk. We sat at a table and I could get a good look at his very glassy eyes. He looked off into the distance and pointed to the star on his forehead and said,


"See that? See that star shaped scar? That proves that I am the 'Chosen One.'" It was a statement that begged no response from me. Rusulan made it without fanfare nor exclamation. 


"Right!" I nodded my head in agreement. Rusulan's eye movement and blinking were very slow and dulled. I figured the doctors must have had him under some pretty heavy sedation. Rusulan nearly slurred his words and his movements made him look like he was slightly drunk. 




By the way, patients in the hospital, depending on their circumstances, of course, are almost always under some sort of sedation. The protocol demands  that the doctors heavily sedate people in order to prevent them from having flashbacks. Flashbacks can cause brain damage. Depending on how heavy and serious and the length of addiction, the patient's who are in extreme risk of flashbacks will be given the strongest sedation for the longest period of time. I have no idea how long Rusulan was in this situation.  


Rusulan continued to talk about the scar on his forehead. "That scar's been there since before I was born. I am the Chosen One," he added. I nodded and got a chance for a closer look at the scar. But upon closer inspection, it didn't look to be a natural scar at all. It was star-shaped for sure, but it looked like it was carved into his head by a knife... I began to suspect that Rusulan had carved it into his own forehead and that might have been just one episode and another reason why he was at Matsuzawa hospital in the first place. I can't be sure, of course, but that star-shaped scar sure looked to me like a self-inflicted wound! 


He continued on the significance of the star, "Metallica has even written a song about me because of this star on my forehead. Have you ever heard of Metallica?" He asked.


"Yes," I replied. "I've worked as a professional in radio and the music business for many years..." I tried to talk but Rusulan cut me off. I wanted to brag that I worked in radio & the music business, but Rusulan would not allow it. Of course not! Why would the second coming of Christ care whether or not this new dumb addition to D-41 had ever worked in the music business or not? Rusulan went on,


"Metallica wrote the song, 'Master of Puppets' about me. Do you know the song?"


"Yes. I answered." I was surprised. Was Rusulan saying that he knows the guys in Metallica? I guess anything is possible. I was confused. I asked, "What? Wait! You know the guys in Metallica?"


"We know of each other." Rusulan said as he gazed off into the distance.


"So, you guys have met in person? They know your family or what?" I was skeptical.


Rusulan announced, "They know me. That's why they wrote the song for me. Do you know the lyrics to 'Master of Puppets'? That's totally about me and who I am." 


"No. Actually, I don't know the lyrics." Funny, but I was embarrassed to have to admit that. It just goes to show how shallow and thin-skinned I am. Here I was trying to brag to "teenage Jesus" that I worked as a professional at a radio station and it frustrated me that he seemed like he didn't care or didn't believe me! Then he asks if I know the lyrics to a famous song but I don't. Doh!.. Some "professional DJ" eh? I felt so worthless.... 




Rusulan began to recite the lyrics of 'Master of Puppets' from memory;


"Come crawling faster, 
Obey your master, 
Your life burns faster, 
Obey your master, 
Master... 
Master of puppets, 
I'm pulling your strings, 
Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams...


"See?" Rusulan triumphantly claimed. That is proof that this was all written about me, you know that?" He pointed all around the room. "See these people? See all these doctors and nurses? They all do my bidding."


"I.... see...." I answered. 


Of course I couldn't understand the reasoning but what's the point of arguing with the guy? He was completely and totally delusional. It seemed obvious to me that this was an idea that he had been creating and believing for many years and he liked it. Talking with me for ten minutes wasn't going to change any of that!


Rusulan went on like this for twenty or thirty minutes. It was difficult to talk to him, it seemed he liked it best for someone to just listen to him so, after trying to get a few words in edgewise, or changing the subject, I gave up. Talking to Rusulan was like talking to a drunk in a bar; he is having is own conversation and wants you to join in but don't change the subject. He's got something important to tell you and he zones in and out so there's not too much point to saying too awfully much. I began to grow weary of this and asked Rusulan if he didn't mind excusing me so I could go and have a short lay down in my room. He said okay and we agreed to meet later.


I figured that poor Rusulan was in the hospital for some sort of psychosis. I would find out later that it was nothing of the sort. Nevertheless it soon became apparent that Rusulan was going to be one of my best friends in D-41 and prove to be one of the most interesting characters in my entire stay at Matsuzawa hospital... Unfortunately. 


Later on, after taking a nap, I saw Rusulan and he was quite eager to continue with our prior conversation. I wasn't particularly. Rusulan was quite pleased that he had thought he found another patient with whom he could converse with about the ins and outs of the wit and wisdom of the heavy metal band Metallica. I gathered from our conversations that he must have sat alone in his room listening to those albums, over and over, hundreds of times, by himself. Even though I knew little of the band, I had heard their songs a few times. Even with that, though, I was still head and shoulders above the competition in a Metallica trivia quiz held in a mental hospital ward filled with mostly 30 ~ 50-year-old Japanese guys whose knowledge of western music was most probably limited to the Beatles and Glenn Miller' Jazz music (as that is what was played on Red Lobster TV commercials at the time in Japan).   


Rusulan kept insisting on discussing how Metallica lyrics were written about the star scar on his forehead and this was proof positive that he was the chosen one. I think these conversations went on for a day and a half when I finally grew tired of them and decided that I should help the guy out. I knew that telling him that he was full of BS or crazy wasn't a good idea as he might get mad at me and stop talking to me... I mean, in a room full of crazy and detached lonely people, even semi-coherent conversation and spending the time with someone is better than none. I knew I had to be coy about telling him his ideas were nuts. I had an idea.


"Rusulan?" I said,


"Yeah?"


"So, this star on your forehead, this proves that you are the Chosen One, right?"


"Right!" He answered.


"Great. So now, follow me on this one, Rusulan, because I have a great idea!!! I don't know why I didn't think of it before!" 


Rusulan got all excited and crouched closer to me. "What is it? What is your great idea? Tell me!" He said.


"Rusulan, I figured a way that we can get out of here today! Right now!" I looked around to act like I was checking if anyone was watching us.


Rusulan was now just about jumping out of his chair with excitement! "How? Tell me how!" He begged.


"Well, the Chosen One is, you know, the son of God, right?"


"Yeah! Right!" He eagerly agreed.


"Well, then, Rusulan, have you ever figured out that, since you are the son of God and all, that you can do stuff like turn yourself invisible and walk through walls and probably go backward and forward in time?"


Right there I expected that he'd slap me on the back and say something like, "Aw c'mon! You're pulling my leg!" But he didn't. He seemed like he was listening intently and considering everything I was saying. He greatly surprised me when he said, 


"Yeah.... Yeah.... You're right!"


"Uh, oh!" I thought. I didn't expect that. Now I had gotten myself into a mess. Now I was feeding his delusions. Oh what a low life sh*t I was! I decided that the best thing to do was to continue with my plan and that was to let him see by himself that he wasn't the Chosen One. I continued,


"So, what you do, Rusulan, is... You close your eyes and just like that that TV show "Bewitched" you wiggle your nose and think of someplace else and we'll be outta here!"


My heart sank when he eagerly agreed, "Yeah!" and then he closed his eyes. A few seconds later he opened his eyes up and I acted like I did too and, Shazam! We were still in D-41.


"It didn't work!" he said.


Right then, suddenly I couldn't tell if he was pulling my leg or not! I suspected that he was. I said, "I knew it! I had my hopes all up that we could get out of here and then this!... Nope! Sorry, Rusulan, you aren't the Chosen One.... And I had my hopes up too!" Rusulan began to stare blankly again out towards the distance. I felt sorry for him.




"Don't worry about it Rusulan. You'll get out of here soon. Why are you in here, anyway?" 


Rusulan knew the game was up and knew that I didn't believe any of that Chosen One or Metallica nonsense anymore. Why did he tell people that? I don't know, poor guy. Maybe he said those things because of insecurities. Like I said, he was very young and I think, by far, the youngest person there. Maybe he was making these sorts of stories because the others in the ward frightened him? That would be an understandable reaction. Like I said there were very many patients who looked pretty scary. Perhaps he felt that this lie was a sort of self-preservation; a defense mechanism to protect himself, the youngest one of all, and (before I arrived) the only foreigner surrounded in a room full of frightening Japanese adults, from being bullied or treated badly?


Perhaps he learned to have these sorts fears from experiences as the only foreigner at Japanese school. I don't know. If my idea that this concoction that Rusulan had dreamed up as his being the Chosen One was a defense mechanism to scare people away, then that, to me, would seem to indicate that Rusulan was actually probably the most savvy and one of the sanest of the bunch in D-41. 


Rusulan stopped playing games with me after that and told me the truth. He also asked why I was there and I told him. Like I said, when you meet people at Matsuzawa hospital, you never know why they are in there so it is difficult to strike up a conversation with someone because you never know what you're going to get. Kind of like talking to strangers on the outside world, really.


Rusulan then told me his story. It was a pretty sad one. He said his mother had forced him into Matsuzawa hospital as a kid and this wasn't his first time there. I believe this fact proves that poor Rusulan was a minor of, perhaps, 17 or 18 years of age! He told me that he stopped going to school when he was 14. I have heard stories about how some Russian people like to drink, but Rusulan's story confirmed that completely.


Mmmm.... Breakfast of champions!


Rusulan told me that he used to eat cornflakes for breakfast and, instead of pouring milk on the flakes, he'd pour vodka and eat that. He said he wouldn't go to school because by the time breakfast was over, he'd be sprawled out on the floor. This went of for a few years before his mother decided to do something about it. No sense in trying to nip a problem in the bud, right?   


Over the first week or so, I never saw Rusulan's mom visit him. I asked him where she was and he told me that she was no longer in Japan. Now, that's alarming! Because, you see, as a minor, he can't get out unless someone signs to be his guarantor and promises to provide him with a place to stay and food, clothes, etc. And just any old-body can't be a guarantor; in this case, they'd have to be relatives or something. Until his mom came back, and Rusulan seemed to not know when that would be, he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't seem to be especially upset about it. But if it were me, and my mom left me there in that place and didn't come to visit, and then left the country, I'd be a tad bit more than upset. 


As I said, Rusulan and I became very good friends. For the first weeks in D-41 he never had any visitors but I always made sure that he was first to get some of the chocolate that my wife would bring to me. 


My wife's frequent visits (and my only connection to sanity) were beginning to become a problem. The doctors had told us that they wanted to cut down the visits because the other patient's rarely had visitors so it was actually bad for me that my wife would visit so often. They also complained that my wife was "too beautiful" and asked that she not "dress up so much." I thought, "Right! Tell that to a Tokyo City Girl before she wants to go outside." 


Photo of my wife from about that time


It seems that the other patients were beginning to grumble and complain and the doctor's feared that I'd start getting bullied or there'd be some sort of jealous retribution. Even Rusulan had confided in me that he deeply wished someone would come and visit and spend time with him. Poor guys. Porr Rusulan. It all reminded me of something I once heard on a Sunday morning religious rock radio program once, "The most insecure people are usually confined to the highest security prisons." It was the never ending story of the hunger of the human spirit. I felt sorry for everyone, especially Rusulan. He was just a teenager. I tried to be his best friend too.


One day, a Saturday morning, Rusulan was in great spirits for he announced to me that had a guest coming. I was quite happy and surprised to hear this news too! It was the first visitor that, to my knowledge, he had the entire time I was there. Of course, he was ecstatic about it too. I asked him who it was but he wouldn't tell me. He wanted to show me. He wanted to make sure that I met his guest and told me to wait near the exit door. I did.


The rules at the hospital were strict about visitations. The doctors had deemed that they thought Rusulan was "safe" to walk the hospital grounds with a visitor and not try to escape. Of course, in a government run mental institution (it's besides the point that drug and AA meetings and patients go there too), it isn't good if people are leaving the grounds without doctor's permission... That could be misconstrued, in some circles, as "an daring escape from a mental institution" which would make for sensational TV and frighten a lot of neighbors but be most akin to an extra homeless person wandering around the streets for the night. (Some patients could leave the hospitals grounds alone; some with an escort or visitor; some could not leave under any circumstances - I will discuss those later). 


It wasn't my visitation time so I could not walk close to the exit door. Just inside  the door, much like a "loading and unloading area" at an airport, there was an area lined off with yellow paint in the ward's own version of a sort of "No admittance" zone. You weren't supposed to stand in there if you weren't going out. There I stood, just outside off the line, as Rusulan was called because his visitor had arrived.


"Just wait there, Mike!" Rusulan eagerly called back to me. He smiled as wide as he possibly could. I felt happy to be his closest friend there and kind of like his family so I could share in his happiness. The door then opened and there stood a beautiful and tall Japanese high school girl. She was so petite and she looked like a goddess out of a Japanese comic book...She was like an "anime beautiful high school girl!" She was very pretty and she smiled. She had long hair and long legs. Rusulan said something to her and she looked at me, smiled broadly and bowed. I bowed back and waved back at her.




She must have really liked Rusulan because since Matsuzawa hospital is an institution for people with mental disorders, and it just so happens that the drug addicts and alcoholics are throw all into the same place, that still doesn't negate the fact that the hospital grounds are still a pretty scary place to walk around in for most people. The patients can be pretty scary looking, even though they are  completely harmless. So it takes a lot of courage, and probably lots of love too, for some high school girl to go on the hospital grounds by herself to go visit her boyfriend. Nevertheless, she was there and Rusulan was on top of the world as he took her hand and they walked away with the door closing behind their back.


"Oh! I envied him!" I thought!


And with that I went back to doing whatever it was to pass the time. Later we ate dinner and, uneventfully, as always, I went to bed exactly at "lights out" at 8 pm. I slept quite well.


As I mentioned before, word travels fast in the hospital and, at "lights on" at 6 am the next morning, I was so surprised to find out that the hospital was totally and completely abuzz with the news! Rusulan was a hero! Rusulan's girlfriend had helped him to engineer a daring escape in broad daylight from the hospital! His girlfriend was a modern day Bonnie and he was a modern day Clyde! Oh that little criminal-minded minx! I would have never guessed in a million years that the sweet high school girl that I saw the day before standing in the doorway was such a schemer! To our great cheer, excitement and wonderment, Rusulan became a hero, swashbuckler and lady killer in one fell swoop! He was an inspiration to every patient in D-41. He was our own James Dean! 


"Wow! That's so cool!" I thought. So did everyone else.


In my bed I laughed and threw my arms in the air in victory, "Go! Rusulan!" I shouted! "Go! Rusulan! Go!" 


(The next segment in this series is here: Nowhere to Run to Nowhere to Hide - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 7)

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Best Teacher in High School I Ever Had Wasn't a School Teacher - She Was an Extremely Beautiful Girl Who Was My Classmate!

With that title, you are probably thinking about some hot high school "sexcapades" or a story of some girl who taught me about sex in high school. No way. I think those things only happen in movies or crappy Bob Seeger songs. For 90% of the people in high school (at least in my time) dates and going to dances were only things we dreamed about or saw in movies. I was one of those people. 


I never had sex until I was 20, or was it 21?


My high school photo 1975

After so many years of elementary, junior, high school and college and university, I can only remember a few teachers who really taught me something. I had one in 4th grade, Ms. Demuth, in Minnesota. She gave me a Snoopy card once that said, "Life is full of rude awakenings." I'll never forget that lesson. I don't remember any elementary teachers who influenced me or inspired me after her. 




In High School, I had Mr. Holts, my science and biology teacher. Mr. Holts taught me that there's a big difference between playing and doing. And then, and, in college, there was Mr. Al Miller. Mr. Miller was best of all because he taught me about television, how to handle myself in front of people and, outside of school, he taught me how to be a real gentleman; how to be kind and respectful to people - to all people.


Mr. Miller impressed me because he would, for example, talk to parking lot attendants and doormen and call them, "friend" or "sir." He treated everyone with respect. Not only did his mannerism and respect for people influence me, it touched me so much that it set the way I try to treat people all my life. Alas! I am a poor student and I can never attain the enlightenment of my sensei. I think few people can be such a sincere gentleman as Mr. Al Miller. If the world was filled with people like Mr. Miller it would be so much a nicer place to live. 


But I digress.


Mr. Al Miller was the best school instructor I've ever had  




Even though I had these teachers in school, the best teachers I had in school weren't actually my official teachers. Nope. The best teachers were girls I liked. There were several of them. They didn't teach me important things because they were my girlfriends or anything. They didn't teach me anything because they were particularly kind to me. They taught me well because they were only kind to me when they wanted something from me. They were kind to me when they wanted something like for me to tell them the answers to questions on tests so that they wouldn't fail. They taught me when they used me.


I'd oblige them because, well, in my high school immaturity and insecurity I figured being used and then dropped like a wet a dirty dish rag was better than not being used (or even spoken to) at all. This might sound bitter, but it's not. Those girls taught me well and I appreciate them for it. The lesson that they taught me was a lesson in life and, had they not taught me, someone else would have. They taught me the real world.


One of the girls who really taught me well was a girl who was in several of my high school classes named Kathy Dobbe (I think that's how it is spelled!) I'll never forget Kathy. Kathy Dobbe doesn't know that, all through high school, I had a crush on her and thought she was the most beautiful girl in school - maybe even in the entire world. I thought Kathy was a goddess. 


Kathy was a great teacher. The peculiar part about Kathy's teachings to me is that I'll bet we never spoke three words in total to each other my entire junior and senior years.


I am reminded of Kathy recently because, on Facebook, a few weeks ago, I saw one of those dumb "Guess who's joined your high school class Facebook community?" notices and saw that Kathy had joined (I don't join things like that - come to think of it, how do they know what high school I went to???). I also wonder why so many people seem to long for high school days. Are things that bad today? Were things that good back then? I don't think so... But, then again, I wasn't a popular kid in school...


Anyway, from the Facebook, notice, I saw what Kathy looks like today. Well, I am assuming it was Kathy.  I've never met her mom, but I gather that she today looks like her mom did back then. Kathy looked pretty good, all things considered. I think she looked quite good especially compared to her peers. 


Not aging fast enough? Drink soda! Hoo boy! Japanese people don't drink sweet drinks anywhere near the level that American people do. Even lots of younger Japanese still prefer tea. 




Damned if people in America don't look very old, overweight and past their years! Kathy didn't really look that way, but when I see people in America my age, they all have gray hair and are fat! I saw another picture of a girl whom I have known for over 35 years last night. She is a year younger than me but in her photo she looks easily ten years older than me. It must be that processed food Standard American Diet (it's called S.A.D.) that those people are eating. I'm glad I eat raw food and live in Japan where people eat healthy food. (Any wonder why Japanese women live, on average, at least six years longer than American women? The men live more than four years?)


But I digress.... Again!!!!


Unbeknownst to her, like I mentioned, Kathy also doesn't know that she taught me self respect. She taught me that because I had a complex all through high school; I thought I was inferior and shorter than all the (pretty) girls in school. Really! This complex messed me up because I figured that pretty girls don't like short guys. The guys all have to be tall, dark and strong; just like in the movies. Kathy taught me that I wasn't shorter. In fact, I was taller than her by a few inches... Actually, until she taught me, I never knew that I was taller than all of them. I simply never realized it.


Now, you're probably imagining that Kathy taught me this important lesson in self-esteem in life at some school function like a dance. Imagine! Kathy Dobbe and me dancing cheek to cheek on the high school gymnasium floor to some slow and romantic song. It's one of the last numbers of the evening. The lights are turned down low. Everyone grabs their date and heads to the dance floor.... We look into each others eyes and we embrace...


The saxophones start to play... "And they called it puppy love...." 




No. No. Stop the music... Stop the music! I'm not that old!


Think of it, Kathy and I, cheek to cheek, in a warm high school kid's love embrace? Can you imagine it? No? Neither can I. I was enthralled with Kathy but that was it. Even if I had asked her for a date, and she said, "Yes," that would probably be the end of it. She'd probably have scared me so much that, had we met for a date, I couldn't talk. Not a word. If I could utter a sound, it would be like a bird chirping or a wheel squeaking. Nope. Couldn't do it. Just like in the movies. And that's the only part of this that is like it is portrayed in the movies: Geeks can't handle beautiful women. Geeks are always like that. 


It's been scientifically proven that high school geeks' vocal chords stop functioning properly when they are around girls who they think are so pretty they aren't real or aren't from the Milky Way galaxy. 


I suppose I should tell you why I had such an inferiority complex. It's a long story so I'll make it brief. Before moving back to California, I had spent the last 8 or 10 years (I can't remember) moving all around the USA and going to a different school almost every year. That meant that when I went to a new school I had to start over and make new friends... This also meant that I didn't have very many friends. This is hard on a kid but a good lesson in life (that is for another blog post on another day). Since I went to schools in the South and Midwest, I was used to their school system and their curriculum.


Well, I don't know about today (but can't imagine that it's so different) the level of education in Midwestern and Southern elementary schools are a few years ahead of California public schooling. That means that what they are teaching in 5th grade in a school in Minnesota, they are teaching in 7th grade in California public school. So when I moved from Minnesota, where I was getting "C's," to California, I was suddenly getting "A's." Classes that I hated and struggled in in Minnesota, like Algebra, were, in California, one big joke. Suddenly, from being a dumb kid in school in Minnesota (or as my very kind older brother would insult me all my life, "The F-minus Kid") I went to being the smartest kid in my class.


Through high school, my older brother got all "A's." He went to school in Minnesota too (you do the math). So, even though my grades in academics weren't as good as his, I was still a geek, got mostly A's and, as such, an outsider. Because, even back then, in a California school getting good grades meant you were a momma's boy or teacher's pet and definitely NOT cool.


So here I went from being a dummy in school with no friends in the Midwest to being a smart kid in school with no friends in California. I thought being smart was good? Not in California public school it isn't. Can you imagine how that would play games with a 15 year old's mind? 


My high school in California, was a regular west coast high school like you'd see in the movies. You know, pretty blond girls and handsome blond guys. Everyone drove a hot rod American car and had perfect teeth. The ocean wasn't a ten minute drive from school so we had tons of surfers, stoners and our high school also had the standard issue football team and basketball team that every all-American high school had.


Everyone at my high school looked like they had just jumped out of some Hollywood movie. This is Janet and Randy, who were Prom King and Queen. 




The boys teams at my high school were lousy (you wouldn't know it by the "big man on campus" attitude those guys showed while at school). Nevertheless, it was a big deal every year when we'd play the cross town high school's own lousy team in our standard issue cross town rivalry. The teams would basically take each year going back and forth beating each other. The cheerleaders would cry because, well, as you know, beating Cross Town is so immensely important, especially since, as any cheerleader will tell you "...This is senior year and our last year at high school. We must win!" Maybe it was all planned that way... Maybe they do that in American society to teach militant tribalism (it's great for military recruitment)....


But I digress.... For the third time...


I was talking about Kathy Dobbe. Besides the very pretty girls, surfers, stoners, hot-rodders, and football and basketball players, my school also had geeks. I think I was King Geek at my school. I was King Geek because my grades were almost all "A's" and I was president of the Science Club for my junior and senior year.






Being a geek in high school sucks because the "cool kids" (pretty girls, surfers, stoners, hot-rodders, and football and basketball players) didn't want to have anything to do with you. The only friends a geek has in high school is other geeks. So, all through high school, I only went on a date twice. The first time was when Shanda Shinkaruk asked me to go to a backwards dance with her (she was pretty too and terrified me also!) and then, my senior year when I got up the nerve to ask one of the smartest and most popular girls in school, Debbie Henry to go to the prom with me. Debbie said, "Yes" and that changed my life too.... But let me stick with Kathy for now. Debbie is another story.


How did Kathy teach me self-respect and give me a better self-image? It's ridiculous, really, when I stop to think about it. Here, all that time, all through 11th and 12th grade I thought all these girls would never go on a date with me because, are you ready?.... I thought they wouldn't go on a date with me because I was shorter than they were.


Seriously. This is what I thought. It was what I believed. The day that Kathy Dobbe destroyed this belief is still strong in my memory...


Only geeks and dorks helped the teachers with things like the projectors and handing out petri dishes. I did that sort of thing a lot. Come to think of it, this might be my first photo of my ever having worked in the cinema industry.


It was biology class. I can't remember why, but Mr. Holts told us to line up to collect some materials. For some reason, it wound up that Kathy Dobbe was standing right in front of me. I had never come that close to her before.  I was an extremely shy boy and would never intentionally stand next to her. I was so shy that, had she come close, normally I would shy away and back off to the other side of the room. But here she was! The girl of my dreams! The girl I had only seen from afar and she was standing only two feet in front of me... This goddess!!!!  


As usual, Kathy paid no attention to me and was talking to one of the other beautiful people, a guy, in the class. When she turned her back to me was when it hit me. I was shocked! I couldn't believe it. I had to get closer and check and recheck again. Were my eyes deceiving me? Not only was I taller than Kathy but I was taller by at least three inches!


You cannot imagine how much that really confused me and threw me for a loss. I was absolutely dumbfounded. It was as if a scientist who dedicated his entire life to a theorem and was completely and totally convinced that this theory was true had just found out that all his beliefs and life's work were completely wrong. Everything he (I) had thought, believed and was convinced to be true was completely wrong and had zero basis in reality. You can imagine how this twisted my mind especially as a geek and president of the Science Club!.... Chuckle.


Soon after, I began talking to many other girls. I began to check my new theory and discovery by use of the Scientific Method: "I am taller than these girls hereby it is OK for me not to be such a loser." I tested it over and over and found it to be true.


I stood next to the beautiful girls in school. I was taller than them. When some of the pretty (but dumb) girls in science class would suddenly take a 180 degree turnabout and go from not even knowing that I exist or actually being mean to me to being so sweet and kind and asking for my help giving them the answers to Biology tests, I started having an attitude. I'd intentionally give them the wrong answers.... Really! I am ashamed to admit that I did that one time but then felt bad about it... After that, if those girls wanted my help, I'd just tell them, "You're always mean to me then you want my help at test time? No. I don't think so." Then these girls would get really mad at me and bad mouth me. I think they got mad because I had always given them answers before so they had come to depend on me and when the answers stopped coming, they thought I was a jerk. They treated me like a jerk 100% of the time from then on.


That's OK. I didn't care. Before that, they treated me like a jerk only 95% of the time excepting at test time. Now they'd treat me like dirt 100% of the time. So what? Their loss, not mine, I figured.


And, after all, I was taller than they were and I got good grades. "Who needs dumb manipulative girls, anyway?" I realized.


Life is full of give and take. Life is also full of manipulative people. I thank god that I was to have this seemingly banal experience of standing in line behind Kathy Dobbe and how that changed my life. It's weird the little seemingly unimportant things that make a huge impact on our lives and way of thinking. From the lesson I learned from Kathy Dobbe, I learned self-respect and self-confidence... Perhaps from that experience I also learned too much, way too much, self-confidence too and exercised that far too often.


But this self-confidence has taught me to be independent and to be creative and to depend on myself. It has helped me to avoid the rat race whereby too many people today fear for their jobs and their future. Of course, I sometimes worry about the future and money too, but, opposed to a company employee who has no control over whether or not they lose their job or get laid off, I create my own work and I create my own income. I have come to, through experience and self-confidence and a good self image, to know that, if I put my mind to it, I can do anything. I believe that thinking that way, and helping your child to do so also, could be one of the best lessons in life that they'll ever learn.




I think the lessons I learned from this one experience are (if you are a student, this is for you. If you are a parent, please consider how you can help your child):


1) What we think and believe is often not true. An open mind is necessary. Some of the things we believe are so opposite of actual truth it is epiphany when we realize it.


2) Often we need others to help us achieve these realizations and epiphanies. 


3) We need to have more self-confidence and to explore.


4) Learning to read and write in school is important, of course, but many of the other important lessons are not taught by teachers. They are taught by other kids, parents and the outside world. We need to prepare our kids better for that.


5) Parents need to tell your kids that they are beautiful. This seems obvious but not enough parents do this. Most parents never do this at all.


6) A kid with great self-esteem and self-confidence can do anything and be whatever they want to be. Make sure your child is that way. 




Thank you Kathy Dobbe and to the Kathy Dobbe's everywhere.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Star Wars and Earth Wars: Robots, Droids, Drones and People


"I'm C3PO human cyborg relationship and this is my counterpart R2-D2" - C3PO to Luke


Robots? I love them.


Droids? Excellent!


Drones? Not so much. I don't really like them. 


Don't confuse robots, droids and drones. They are all very different. I like the kind of droids you'd see in a Star Wars movie like R2D2 or C3PO. It's drones that I don't like... Besides metallic casings, I might be talking about the kind of drones many people might refer to as "suits."


Actually, in this case, it could even be worse than "suits." At least the "suits" are usually people with what is at least referred to as a "higher education." Chuckle. I mean, they paid big money and got themselves into major debt by avoiding reality after high school by going to college. You know what I mean? College and university are great places to screw around and waste time while you figure out what you want to do with your life and postpone the inevitable as long as possible.




In all fairness, and for the sake of complete disclosure, let me state openly that I did go to university and waste, not four, but six years. But let me also say that I was lucky and, upon graduation, I wasn't even one cent in debt. I worked my way through college.... Hell, it was better than studying! I wrote about how John Belushi convinced me to go to university once. Please refer to: John Belushi, Japan and me - or How the Movie Animal House Changed my Life


But I digress....


I'm talking about Robots, Droids and Drones.


Japan is way, way, way ahead of the United States when it comes to this sort of thing. You can go into Tokyo, say Shinjuku, Shibuya or Akihabara - especially Akihabara - and see robots, droids and drones everywhere you look. In Japan, these things are not unusual so people don't bat an eye.


Don't believe me? It's absolutely true, so help me god. Let me explain. First, I suppose we have to clarify our definitions.




Robot: "A device that automatically performs tasks, sometime repetitively." "A mechanism guided by automatic controls." "A fictional machine whose lack for the capacity of human emotions is often emphasized."


Droid (exactly: Android): "A mobile robot with usually a human form." "A Linux based operating system for cell phones and computers."


Drone: "A stingless male bee that has the role of mating with the queen. It does not work by gathering nectar or pollen." "One that lives on the labor of others." "A vessel guided by remote control."


Drones do stupid things like get hacked or shot down. 
Just lifeless shells is all they really are.


Aha! Got that about drones? They are "vessels guided by remote control." Keep that in mind. That's really what this article is about. I will get onto that in a minute, but first let me continue my train of thought...


Now we're ready? Okay! 


Like I said, Japan is way ahead of the United States (and I include Europe in that too) when it comes to this sort of "mechanical thingy" thing. Need evidence? Let's examine!


Early American toaster (left) - Modern Japanese toaster (right)


Robots. Of course, in every one's house there are many robots that perform simple tasks. My favorite home robot is the kitchen toaster. The toaster was invented in the 1870's in England, but much refined by the Japanese in the 1960's. The friendly kitchen toaster is my favorite robot because it is cheap and can provide much more entertainment on a cold winter night than any TV program on the lobotomy box ever could! Toast? Ummmm! Which would you rather have to warm you up with that hot sexy someone under the blankets on the sofa? A hot piece of buttered toast and fresh strawberry jam that can be munched together or 30 minutes of Dog the Bounty Hunter reruns? Not a difficult call to make, is it?


Interestingly, both "Toast" and "Dog" have roughly the same IQ 

In Tokyo, robots are everywhere and they are fashionable and stylish... In the stylish area, we also have much gratitude to give to the French and the Italians who are excellent at making things that look fabulous, but don't work so well and break down quickly.


Some examples of French and Italian things that look nice but don't work are the Maginot Line, Alitalia, and Fiat automobiles.


Fiat getting well over 100 kilometers per liter of gasoline!


If you really think about it, robots are not such a big deal anymore. Like I mentioned about toasters. What home doesn't have a toaster today?


Now, let's look at androids (we'll call them droids). Android phones are everywhere in Tokyo. In fact, recently, I think I've been seeing more of those than iPhones recently. If the definition of a Droid (above) is correct then, we even have one in my home. It's called a "iRobot Roomba." Okay, well I take that back. Actually, I think it is not called a "Roomba." Roomba is the famous one. Those are very expensive. We bought a Korean made model (forget the name) that does the same thing for half the cost. This automatic vacuuming droid is just like R2D2. Really! He does a good job for certain tasks but can be awful stubborn and does dumb things sometimes like falling down the stairs, so you have to be careful with his programming on where you specify are his work areas. I like the fact that he can vacuum the carpeted floor, then go to the tatami floor, then over to the wooden floor and all under the dining tables and chairs without my wife lifting a finger. Pretty cool.


I often wondered what year she'll be "deflowered" in?


It is also awesomely cool in that the fact, get this, the guy himself (sorry about calling it a "he" - my wife insists that the "butler do the vacuuming"), when done, automatically searches and finds his home station and parks himself there after the job is done so his batteries can be recharged... He also beeps and pings like R2D2. Really!


In Tokyo, we also have robots and droids that make ice cream, sushi, and manufacturers cars and work on assembly lines too. Of course.


Yeah, yeah. He vacuums and does everything. But if I ever catch him in bed with my wife, out he goes! Unless, of course, he can introduce me to one of his android friends. 


Wow! Isn't life in the modern world wonderful? Well, yes and no. If you are a robot or droid and have a useful function to fulfill, then you are probably happy until the days that your circuits burn out. If you are a human and you have a good job with a good future, and a nice family, a place to live, then you are probably happy.... But if you are a drone? Oh no! If you are a drone, then you are nothing; you are just a shell, you have no life; you are the lowest of the low; even robots and droids don't respect you. 


And, if you are a human drone?


Human drones? Now, that's the worst thing in the world.


Folks, we have human drones. In fact, if you think about it, they are all around us: These are the people who can't think for themselves. They have be told what to do and what to think. They cannot function without someone showing them the way and telling them exactly what to do. The worst ones are the ones who need to be repeatedly told (programmed) to perform a function before they will do it - even if it is the very same function everyday! They have human drones in America and they have them in Japan. Are they the same? In many ways, yes, but in many ways, no.




To go too deeply into the subject of human drones and the difference between one in Japan and the west, would take volumes of books written by someone with a PhD. who is much more intelligent than me. I can only write about surface issues that I witness with my own eyes. I do not know the deeper issues; the "why's" and "what for." And I don't want to talk about human drones in the USA. Let me off the hook easy by allowing me to only tell you about human drones in Japan.


Human drones are everywhere in this country. Poor folks.... No! I take that back. Maybe they aren't folks to be pitied; maybe they are to be envied. Heck, if they are happy, then I envy them... Thing is that I have never seen a happy drone. 


In Japan, these human drones work at menial labor jobs everywhere you go. You see them at restaurants and working at cash registers. They are the ones doing the lowest of the menial labor tasks. Since Japan doesn't have a problem with an influx of foreign laborers, then, you will see Japanese young people performing these tasks.


I suppose that, if I am to pity these human drones, then I must criticize the Japanese educational system and Japanese society as a whole for teaching too much conformity and not enough creativity... But I am hesitant to do that and criticize Japan for too much conformity. Why? Well, what example am I to hold over Japan to say, "See? This is how it's done!" I think I certainly cannot use the example of the social decline and the resultant level of crime in the west as and yard of measure. I do believe, though, that the Japanese educational system is guilty of not teaching enough critical thought and too much conformity... I can say that because I had children who spent a few years in both Japanese public schooling and in International schools in Japan and high school in America.    


Oh pity the human drones... Well, at least they have a job.


Now, parents of high school kids or young people just out on their first jobs, don't confuse what I am saying here. I am not saying that everyone who cleans tables or stands behind a cash register or works at a convenience store is a drone. Far from it. I'm saying the ones who do not smile, are not energetic, do not think for themselves and must do everything by the manual; the ones who show no life in their faces; no enthusiasm for their work those are drones. They are the ones to be pitied.


There are far too many of them in Japan.


Now, do you understand what I mean by a human drone? They could be the guy working at a bank or a bureaucrat like in the Kurosawa movie, "Ikiru." Or it could be like the people you see when you go shopping or to a cheap restaurant. There they are: lifeless, the walking dead. Those are the people who should be pitied.


Well, now, there I've done it. I think I took what was a fun and full of life article at the start and turned it into a real bummer by the ending. Sorry about that. So with that, let me tell you about a story that I heard from a friend last night about his recent experience with a human drone at a cheap eatery.


In Japan, whenever two or three (more?) adults go into any sort of cheap eatery or restaurant, when the patrons are finished and about to pay the bill, it is customary that the clerk will ask them, "Will you pay the bill together or separately?" In Japan, asking this to customers is a "rule." This rule is a part of what is called, "Manual Dori" or "By the Book" (マニュアル通り).  The reason why Japanese companies (and companies like McDonald's, etc.) have to create these "Manuals" is that they aren't really hiring rocket scientists. No, folks, they are hiring, in many cases, human drones - of course they wouldn't if they could find spry, alert, and gregarious, positive outgoing people - alas...




Anyway, back to my story about my friend's experience with the human drone. My friend is the father of two handsome young boys who are of junior high school age, about 13 and 14 years of age. Together, the three of them went to eat at Yoshinoya Gyudon. Gyudon is known in the west as "Beef bowl." It is a bowl of rice that has beef and vegetables cooked in a sauce that is poured over the rice. Many Japanese men (and some women) on the go love to eat this. I used to also until I just about stopped eating beef.


Upon finishing their food, the father and the two boys walked up to the cash register where they met their human drone for that day.


Now, if you were at the cash register and saw a guy in his late forties, maybe early fifties, with two boys half his size that looked to be junior high school students, deeply immersed in their held held DS computer games, what would you think? Do you think:


A) "Gee! This looks like a dad with his two kids. That'l be $9.00, please. Do you need a receipt?"
B) "I wonder if these three gentlemen are all gainfully employed or are they Yakuza gangsters about to rob the restaurant at gunpoint?"
C) "I wonder when the new DS game software comes out?"
D) Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You don't have a single synapse. You repeat the manual like a drone.


If you said, "D" then you are a winner.


My friend is standing there, with his wallet open. The two kids next to him are playing Super Mario and the clerk says, "Will you pay the bill together or separately?" Doh!


Parents! Don't let your children grow up to be drones. Why? Well, if they are drones, one of these days someone is going to come out with a useful robot, like a toaster and your kid will be out of a job. Don't they deserve better than that? I hope so.


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