Originally posted 2009-10-18 at https://inpixels09.wordpress.com/2009/10/18/my-journey-towards-emoticons/

my journey towards emoticons-

PA120480

the first message i ever received on my japanese phone said this:

“hey jay (^_^)/

do you know where my school is? can you come to my school at 5 oclock? [picture of a clock]

see you then! [picture of an apple, then a train]”

It was my first day in school. I replied back:

“yeah ill txt”

when I saw my host sister later that afternoon, she seemed a little bit irritated. with her phone held open in her bent back wrist, she told me that in japan, people don’t quite text that way. she told me that if you send somebody a message, it should be pretty and have enough text such that it doesnt seem like just a quick comment scrawled on a cafeteria napkin.

I find these filled with faces made from punctuation and these bright, little pictures after and between lines of text. if i hold my phone back, it sometimes looks like a bowl of lucky charms.

she said to me that she knew what i had meant to say, but i should make more of an effort while here. i sent her back a message a few hours later, with a picture of a hand with an up-turned thumb, saying no problem. but i couldnt do the face. i just couldnt.

If i am on a train in japan, i will see a cellphone. in fact, it is my conviction that i will see quite a few cellphones. japanese trains are silent, much like the gaps we find in conversations hereabouts. and people spend time riding on trains- As my cousin living in tokyo once explained to me, japanese trains leave no room for trifling things such as books, or newspapers, and so people will huddle up against their cellphone and read their comics there, on the lcd screen. they will watch tv, there, on their lcd screen. or, as i figured out the other day, they will read their novels there, on their lcd screen. Ive seen it before where through the silence of the train, two friends texted back and forth what they had to say.

so I find myself talking about cellphones quite a bit these days, with people i know and people i have met. its an easy thing to talk about, since its right there, everyone has one and everyone knows about it. Its a glaringly obvious example of the differences between american and japanese culture, as well- japanese are high tech, american ones are pretty average. japanese cellphone cameras take in more pixels than people living in belgium, and I can usually get a pretty blurry image of my friend flipping me the bird, while snickering, while chewing cheetoes. japanese phones are small, aesthetic, and american ones are…

Ive gotten tired of telling japanese how much more high tech and aesthetic they are than the U.S.. But hey, in America, we grow beards, not flowers.

when we talk about cellphones and the possibilities snuggled within, we talk about shape and function. I’ll put my hands together and slide one along the plane of the other to explain how it all folds out, overseas.

I sent the appropriate amount of text, most times, but in an effort to preserve what shrunken dignity I had, I kept my punctuation linear.

Two weeks ago, all of japan had ‘aerobics day,’ a day where, as i understand it, people of all ages make an extra effort to work out and get outside. (this is similar to the daily aerobics routine played on the radio at 6:30, since world war II, in an effort to boost morale. I know the routine, pretty goofy, and can usually get my mother to smile by breaking ou the hip swing and humming the tune) My mother decided to take my little brother and me, along with two of her co-workers, to Hakuba, one of japan’s most famous ski areas and a pride of the locals. it was a beautiful morning with the only clouds framing the top of the mountians, and chilly enough to feel the kickback of the air as I breathed it in.

We crowded into a gondola with around 70 other tourists and started our climb up the mountainside. (the tickets of which were more expensive than a bus to tokyo!) shun dozed off on the shoulder of one of my mom’s friends, both of whom were looking out on the scenery. My mother was looking across at me.

I talked with her on the way to the summit, a some 3 kilometer hike on a elevated wooden path, high enough up that i never had to get my feet wet. we had to breathe faster than regular, because the air was getting thinner. She approached me pretty slowly with what she wanted to say-

there are two words i find myself using too much these days;

honne – one’s true intentions

tatemae – what you say, show or do

I consider myself pretty damn clean if, even if i pollute some holy structure or drop some crazy profanity in front of a priest, my intentions are clean and i apologize, or i sincerely pursue making things right again. that is, i value a person’s true intentions, a person’s honne. Japan aint so. the presentation is of the highest importance. things are clean, things are organized and always bitterly smooth for those watching. Without knowing, I looked my teacher in the eye for the first four weeks of school when talking to him. I adressing him like any one who has anything to teach me, but was taken down pretty hard by my family when I let them know. My mother and sister pretty regularly complain about my handwriting, on documents that are for my own reference. When i told them that what is written is what i valued, they were unphased.

I ask people if they had a good time every time i see them, everytime they have done something that might have been fun. when i asked my oldest sister if she had had a good time while she had been in tokyo, she withdrew from me and wouldnt tell me what was wrong, wouldnt speak to me. She had been at a concert, while there, and her father hadn’t known it was the concert she was going to. the dad still didnt know, and i hadnt given anything away, but it had seemed i was asking about her time at that concert, to her. and so, for a week, she didnt talk to me. they usually wont come out and tell you, if you do something wrong. direction is indicated by tone, not so much words, and so if my mother doesnt want me to go out, she might tell me its too cold or likely to rain. its like were all keeping it from someone who doesnt quite speak our language, sometimes.

My mother was worried about me, getting this. I told her i made every effort, but that didnt seem enough. she explained for a good portion of the last leg the emphasis with which the little things are watched, and how that was what i might put my effort into. one thing she suggested i might do was insert the little faces into my messages.

when we got to the summit, it was a massive face of snow-covered rock that dwarfed the pine trees growing below. I spent an hour, just looking at it and eating rice balls, then we turned back and headed down the mountain.

PA120476

I spoke with some older kids in the weight room the other day, after weigh-lifting club was finished, late at night. they were some of the most ripped kids on the playground. after a session of “how we disrespect nerds, and swimmers, in america,” on the blackboard, i got a rundown of the faces japanese kids use when they write. id write some down, but i think google beat me to it.

So i smile at people when i text, now. i guess my words dont seem as stiff, when i take the care to do things like this, or when i convey myself outside of the vocab that i, well, am supposed to be studying. I told my sister this morning that i was going to get a haircut, in the next town over, a much larger, more exciting town with restaurants and arcades. when she asked me why i wouldnt just go to the one nearest to us, i paused. i said it was too busy today, resisted the urge to wink, and rode my bike to the station.

-J