Category: Rant

I used to think my time in Japan was the most isolated I had ever been, but San Francisco turned out to be a little worse, in a way. Since I don’t have a physical workplace, I don’t get to mingle or as much as say hello to anyone regularly outside my house.

I’d started to think about how I used to attend almost anything, and I mean anything, when I lived in Tsukuba. Everyone knows I was invited to a Baptist Bible study group that met every month and I actually enjoyed it (reading and offering my thoughts on a couple of Bible verses was a small price to pay for homemade food and a few hours of interaction). So what was stopping me from doing something similar here?

The situation became untenable when I started to notice my language skills were actually getting impaired by the isolation. So I decided to take action. A long time ago I had checked out Meetups in San Francisco out of curiosity, so I knew there was one devoted to conversation in Japanese. The time had come to stop lurking—there wasn’t much to see, anyway, just the fact that it was still active—and finally attend one of its weekly gatherings. This impulse was spurred by the fact that a friend of ours mentioned that she has an acquaintance only for watching movies. That reminded me: that’s the way things work here. Everything is compartmentalized.

(If I were to describe Meetup, I’d say it’s a platform for people with common interests to find each other through events created by established groups. Very convenient in this modern world.)

Anyway, I’m back from the meeting and I must say I’m genuinely dumbfounded by how easy it felt to socialize. Not even to make friends, just to have a friendly exchange with strangers. It was fun.

A couple of Japanese girls asked me if I’d attend next week before leaving. I certainly think I will.

Whoever invented Venetian blinds was a genius. Depending on the angle, you can bring the light in or keep the sun out. I grew up with fabric curtains, so Venetian blinds are a wonder to me.

Today was the hottest day of the year in San Francisco. Despite the fact that our apartment tends to heat up a lot, I managed to keep it at a reasonably bearable temperature just by keeping the blinds shut. We have an electric fan, but I didn’t use it. It all reminded me of summer in Germany, just living it up with no A/C.

Apparently the rest of the week the heat will not let up, so I’m going to keep those blinds shuttered.

There’s a drawing of a fingerprint on a dialog box, prompting me to take action during a sign-in process. I envy those clear ridges regaling my screen—surely the work of a good designer. However, they can also be found in real life: I recently came across one, during a demonstration of what a legible fingerprint should look like. Nothing like the smudges I sport.

Still reeling from my failed identity check, I learned that there are times when forensics teams find themselves working with a dry cadaver with desiccated fingerprints, which makes it impossible to identify. How do go about this hurdle? Turns out, there is a product for exactly that case scenario. There’s a special lotion with capsaicin that moisturizes fingertips and plumps them up. For more severe cases, the investigator will use another type of fluid and inject it into the fingertips to achieve the same effect. And then, voilà! Fingerprints clear as day.

As I am still a living thing, but with slightly cadaver-like fingers, I wondered how I could avail myself of the magical potion I first described; however, one of the purveyors only sells to government clients and the other one charges special hazmat shipping costs. The only alternative solution provided by an official source: moisturizing often for a certain period ahead of the fingerprinting session.

So here I am, frantically slathering different kinds of cream on my hands in hopes that I will pass the test when I retake it.

Day one of a new endeavor is one of elation. There is so much faith in yourself, a sense of invincibility brought about by the achievement of a single step. Look at you—a person of action!—moving a whole inch forward. You’re unstoppable.

On day two, however, the euphoria wears off and reality sets in: You made a promise to yourself. Now it’s time to deliver.

Suddenly, that single step, that easy inch, stretches like taffy into infinity. A strike of true terror shakes your bones: This is what the rest of your life is meant to look like. And it’s up to no one but you to make it so.

Resign yourself to the fate you chose one fine day when you were feeling particularly optimistic. Carry that optimism with you as you cross the chasm of bad days. Don’t ever look ahead again—you already know how painful and useless that is. Remember, though, to stop for a second every once in a while, look back, and marvel at how far you’ve come.