So this last weekend, I along with hundreds, maybe thousands of other foreigners, flocked to various testing centers throughout Japan to take the various levels of the Japan Language Proficiency Test or for short, the JLPT.
There are currently 4 levels to the test: from 1-kyuu to 4-kyuu, going from hardest to easiest. Last year I missed the deadline to apply for 3-kyuu, which was far earlier than I thought it would be, but I guess that just attests to Japanese punctuality. If I were to take it this year, I felt that I would pass it easily and that my time might be better spent studying for 2-kyuu, even if it wasn't likely that I'd pass.
For those of you that are wondering, at 4-kyuu you have to know about 100 kanji and 800 words, 3-kyuu is 300 kanji and 1500 words, 2-kyuu is 1000 kanji and 6,000 words and 1-kyuu...well, that's just impossible. No actually it's not, it's just very difficult even for Japanese people. If you can pass 1-kyuu you should be able to read Japanese newspapers.
Thus, you can see that there's a big jump between 3-kyuu and 2-kyuu. I had friends that I considered very good Japanese speakers that were struggling with 2-kyuu, therefore my lack of faith in my skills. When I would express this to my friends, they would be really surprised because they considered ME a good Japanese speaker. I'd have to point out to them that that was because they were only really seeing me SPEAK Japanese, which is by far my strongest skill next to listening.
I'm comfortable switching to Japanese and even if I don't speak it correctly, that doesn't usually stop me from trying to say it; one capability I had to develop while living in Nagoya. But, I NEVER studied Japanese in school and so my reading and writing skills started at a much lower level than most.
One thing I didn't count on over the last year of studying for the test, was developing a very strong complacence about studying, based on my comfort with my Japanese speaking abilities.
A friend of mine who also took the test asked me how it went. I told her that it went about what I thought it would go: the listening was easy, and the rest of it, especially the reading comprehension was really hard. I don't think I passed. And yet, I'm all right with that. I'm going to try to take it again in July, since they're going to begin offering it twice a year starting 2009. She had more confidence in my Japanese, assumed that I would pass it asked me if I would take 1-kyuu next year. I told her no, I'm not planning on it.
I don't think that I will devote more time studying enough Japanese to warrant taking it at any point in the future. Honestly, I'm really just comfortable being able to speak it and communicate with people. I know that there is a part of Japanese culture that I won't be able to access, without being able to read newspapers and books of a certain level, but I'm okay with that. I feel like I understand and fit into Japanese culture to a degree that I'm happy with. Maybe not enough for other people, but it's enough for me.
Plus, one of my New Year's resolutions is to get back onto studying French. I'm really trying to focus on French in terms of cooking and food, since that is what I'll be dealing with when I go to school. The other stuff, I think I can pick up while I'm there, like I did with Japanese.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Callused, but not Callous
A number of weeks ago, I noticed a callus on the palm of my hand, below my pinky finger. I hadn't been doing a lot of undue exercise or hanging off of bars or cleaning my house, so I wondered what it was from. It was strange since it was only on my right hand, not on my left. Several weeks later, I was riding my bike home from work and I realized what caused it. It was from holding onto my bike's handlebars. The reason it was only on my right was because I hold the right handlebar differently, in order to hover over the front brake lever.
Such a tiny thing, why even bring it up? Because in this tiny piece of hardened skin, is my life in Japan. It is something that has developed over days, weeks, months of riding that bike: to school, to the station, to the supermarket. It only exists because I've spent the last 2 and half years here.
Last night, while I stopped at McDonald's (yes, I know, it's horrible) for a quick snack, the theme song of Rent was playing inside MegaMart. One verse goes, “525, 600 minutes- how do you measure, measure a year?” I thought about that, and thought of my callus.
Time: seconds, minutes, years, these are all abstract concepts. Terms that we apply to describe the passing of time. But isn't my callus more of a testament to the seasons than all the terminology we toss about? It represents a physical change in me, something that at least attests to the greater mental and emotional change wrought in myself after spending so long out of the states, away from home. Long enough that I've created another.
Part of my captivation with this callus is that I'm on the verge of going back to that previous home, yet again. It will be the fourth time I've returned, my third Christmas...in Seattle. I hesitated for a minute there because I wanted to say, my third Christmas abroad, but then I realized, Japan is the 'abroad' and that Seattle, America, is supposed to be my home. Is it any longer? I don't feel like it is. I'm excited to go, to see my family, my friends, but I view it as a place I'm going to for 'vacation', not a place that I live anymore.
Yesterday I chatted with my friend Ray on gmail and recommended a Japanese movie that I thought he might like. Pin showed it to me and joked that the title sounded more appropriate for a porno than an anime, “Byosoku go senchimetoru” or 5 Centimeters per Second. Rather, it refers to the speed at which cherry blossoms are said to fall. It is about one boy and his relationships, particularly his first love, and the distance that separates them.
The stories are rather sad, but what we both liked about them was again, something little. They would cut these shots of Japanese things into the scenes. Normal things, like the handles hanging from the roof of a train car, or slippers at a genkan. My favorite one was this shot of a washing machine. It was just completing a load, but it struck me how familiar it was, from its looks to its whirring noise and the beeps it made. So completely mundane. Yet, if I only lived in Seattle, I probably would have no clue what that shot was of, and then promptly dismissed it from my thoughts. Instead, it helped create a fuller, more real picture of these characters lives. Life in Japan. A life that I share more and more.
Such a tiny thing, why even bring it up? Because in this tiny piece of hardened skin, is my life in Japan. It is something that has developed over days, weeks, months of riding that bike: to school, to the station, to the supermarket. It only exists because I've spent the last 2 and half years here.
Last night, while I stopped at McDonald's (yes, I know, it's horrible) for a quick snack, the theme song of Rent was playing inside MegaMart. One verse goes, “525, 600 minutes- how do you measure, measure a year?” I thought about that, and thought of my callus.
Time: seconds, minutes, years, these are all abstract concepts. Terms that we apply to describe the passing of time. But isn't my callus more of a testament to the seasons than all the terminology we toss about? It represents a physical change in me, something that at least attests to the greater mental and emotional change wrought in myself after spending so long out of the states, away from home. Long enough that I've created another.
Part of my captivation with this callus is that I'm on the verge of going back to that previous home, yet again. It will be the fourth time I've returned, my third Christmas...in Seattle. I hesitated for a minute there because I wanted to say, my third Christmas abroad, but then I realized, Japan is the 'abroad' and that Seattle, America, is supposed to be my home. Is it any longer? I don't feel like it is. I'm excited to go, to see my family, my friends, but I view it as a place I'm going to for 'vacation', not a place that I live anymore.
Yesterday I chatted with my friend Ray on gmail and recommended a Japanese movie that I thought he might like. Pin showed it to me and joked that the title sounded more appropriate for a porno than an anime, “Byosoku go senchimetoru” or 5 Centimeters per Second. Rather, it refers to the speed at which cherry blossoms are said to fall. It is about one boy and his relationships, particularly his first love, and the distance that separates them.
The stories are rather sad, but what we both liked about them was again, something little. They would cut these shots of Japanese things into the scenes. Normal things, like the handles hanging from the roof of a train car, or slippers at a genkan. My favorite one was this shot of a washing machine. It was just completing a load, but it struck me how familiar it was, from its looks to its whirring noise and the beeps it made. So completely mundane. Yet, if I only lived in Seattle, I probably would have no clue what that shot was of, and then promptly dismissed it from my thoughts. Instead, it helped create a fuller, more real picture of these characters lives. Life in Japan. A life that I share more and more.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The good, the bad, and the children...
I've had several conversations with different boyfriends over the years about realism and idealism. These discussions have helped define and refine my own beliefs about people and their natures.
Bryce was a steadfast realist, which caused a lot of tension in our relationship. One thing that drew George to me, and I to him, was our shared idealism. Travis reminds me of Bryce, but he's pointed out a particular difference between them: He is a realist with strong idealist leanings. It's a good compromise. Pin and I are both idealists, but I think for different reasons. Pin has, what I believe, is an idealism rooted in nostalgia. He believes that we are born innocent and good, and that it's life's lessons that harden us, that screw us up. He points to children as models of what we should strive to be.
As Travis and I discussed an article I sent him about a new genetic test that can be used to determine which sport(s) your child might be best suited to, I found what lay at the heart of my idealism. It's my connectedness to other people. I don't think that I'm that different or special. I believe that, if I can come to think a certain way about something, I don't see what's stopping other people from coming to think the same way as well. Granted, things like education do come into play, but that can't eliminate a HUGE percentage of the population, like my realist friends seem to believe. They believe that it's preposterous to expect more from them; that people are actually intelligent.
I feel it's preposterous to think I'm the only one that thinks thus. Wouldn't more people think this way? It's not just limited to the way people think, however. It's the same with wanting to be a good person. Or being 'nice', as many of my friends have described me. They tell me that I'm so nice, and say it with such...surprise, that I find myself amazed at that. Have they really met so few nice people? And why would you choose to be otherwise, if given a choice? That's one thing I can't fathom. Yes, people make mistakes, and we don't always do the 'nice', the 'good' thing all the time. We're not perfect. But I believe that for the most part, people are good, that they WANT to be.
I disagree with Pin. I don't think that we are born good, I think that we can only be truly good when we have knowledge, both of good and bad. We are not innately good. We CHOOSE to be good. Life, and its lessons, do not confuse us. They teach us. We learn, we grow, and I believe, we become better people.
Bryce was a steadfast realist, which caused a lot of tension in our relationship. One thing that drew George to me, and I to him, was our shared idealism. Travis reminds me of Bryce, but he's pointed out a particular difference between them: He is a realist with strong idealist leanings. It's a good compromise. Pin and I are both idealists, but I think for different reasons. Pin has, what I believe, is an idealism rooted in nostalgia. He believes that we are born innocent and good, and that it's life's lessons that harden us, that screw us up. He points to children as models of what we should strive to be.
As Travis and I discussed an article I sent him about a new genetic test that can be used to determine which sport(s) your child might be best suited to, I found what lay at the heart of my idealism. It's my connectedness to other people. I don't think that I'm that different or special. I believe that, if I can come to think a certain way about something, I don't see what's stopping other people from coming to think the same way as well. Granted, things like education do come into play, but that can't eliminate a HUGE percentage of the population, like my realist friends seem to believe. They believe that it's preposterous to expect more from them; that people are actually intelligent.
I feel it's preposterous to think I'm the only one that thinks thus. Wouldn't more people think this way? It's not just limited to the way people think, however. It's the same with wanting to be a good person. Or being 'nice', as many of my friends have described me. They tell me that I'm so nice, and say it with such...surprise, that I find myself amazed at that. Have they really met so few nice people? And why would you choose to be otherwise, if given a choice? That's one thing I can't fathom. Yes, people make mistakes, and we don't always do the 'nice', the 'good' thing all the time. We're not perfect. But I believe that for the most part, people are good, that they WANT to be.
I disagree with Pin. I don't think that we are born good, I think that we can only be truly good when we have knowledge, both of good and bad. We are not innately good. We CHOOSE to be good. Life, and its lessons, do not confuse us. They teach us. We learn, we grow, and I believe, we become better people.
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