blue and brown books

It is Thursday, 3.27.2008 and it is warm and sunny in Hamamatsu.

Dad was gone again this morning, we planned his short trip to Niigata on the other side of Japan today. He really wanted to see the Sea of Japan side, and given that Niigata is the largest city on that coast, it was easy enough to plan for an early morning trip. He had a good time at the aquarium and the harbour and even considered going to Russia on a ferry before realizing he’s have visa issues.

My day was much like yesterday, except I did a lot more writing.

Jeannine and I talked for quite some time, and she told me about going out with a bunch of friends from High School / Elementary School. We both grew up in a town called Gimli in the province of Manitoba, about an hour north of Winnipeg. I was there until I was 13, and then came back when I was 16. Gimli is rural, sortof. It’s like suburban, but with farming, fishing and tourism as its main industry. It’s where every bottle of Crown Royal is made.

Jeannine operates as the MLA (Member of the Legislative Assembly)’s representative of the constituency in which Gimli is in, since the MLA is usually tied up with a Minister’s portfolio, Jeannine does all of those tasks that a regular MLA would do. She’s so awesome and smart and is totally good at her job. Anyway, she spends a lot of time in this town that we grew up in.

In the winter there is not much to do but play videogames and guitar in the nearest warm basement, or, in all of the ‘cool kids’ cases, snowmobiling. I remember this being a thing I was jealous of. Sixteen year old boys talking about doing all kinds of tricks, or outrageous stunts, almost (or in some cases ACTUALLY) killing themselves on the nearest tree or rolling their sled actually made me feel uncool. Thinking back on it, these kids would actually make snowmobile engine revving sounds and say things like “Got ‘er right sideways” or “Had it pinned right to the tits”. I’m typically not one to judge, but what the fuck was I thinking?

Jeannine visited with a few of these fine folks this past evening and it made me really think about how different people are. I’m constantly reminded by her that I give people far too much credit, or that I over think my own social awkwardness. The only difference between myself and these odd people is that I’m aware that I’m awkward, and they aren’t.

Isn’t it interesting how our values change (or don’t change?) and that what we once thought of as so important is something we’re actually extraordinarily embarrassed about? I love thinking about that uncomfortableness.