January 23rd, 2002. The Three Meanings of Roger.

It occurred to me today as I was talking to Frances, that Roger is quite a unique word. Not only is it the name of that tall, slightly awkward kid who lived down the street and collected stamps, but it's also a military acknowledgement. We often hear it on TV and in the movies, used incorrectly, ie "roger, wilco" (which means, "understood, will comply." But you never use to two together in real military radio communication. I don't know why.)

Roger is also a verb, as in "My God man, you look like you could use a good rogerring." when sympathising with someone who looks tired or unhappy. If you can't figure out that last one by context (as I've purposely been vague about it), try asking a British acquaintance of yours as to the meaning of the word.

Well, I finished off the last of the Lord of the Rings books at work the other day. The remarkable thing about this series is that, apart from the story, Tolkien has a whole whack of appendices, describing everything from the lineage of fringe characters to ancient alphabets and the difference in their pronounciations when you move from locale to locale. A friend of mine tells me that he just stole all this stuff from Norse Mythology and mixed it with a bunch of Biblical imagery, but I think it's impressive nonetheless.

I couldn't bring myself to read past the second page about the lineage of some fallen king though. It was too much like 7th grade history class - I could almost hear Mr. Newell droning on about the origins of the Liberal party, while I did my best not to fall out of my chair from boredom.

I've found that I like to brush the teeth in the upper-right hand side of my mouth more than the other teeth. I tend to phase out a little when I brush, and will concentrate the majority of the 3 minutes on that one spot. The action is repeated so often that it gets ingrained in your subconscious and becomes as natural and thoughtless as breathing. Kinda like tying your shoe, or assuming the position when you get pulled over.

So as a result, my upper right molars are sparkling white and the rest are not quite there. I'd be in a good position though, if humans evolved a set of rotating teeth. That way, I could just give my jaw a quarter turn each week and even everything out.

I bought some Harry Connick Jr. cds in a second hand cd shop in Shibuya that night out with M and Hinnie. Before I came to Tokyo, I hadn't bought a cd since I got a burner, which was years and years ago. Anyway, these suck ass for the most part. There's two or three good songs between the three cds, and I have those already on a cd I made before coming here.

I look my age in Japan. Or rather, everyone thinks I look my age. There's a thing I do with my students, the first time I meet them in class. To kill a bit of time, I have them guess my vital information. What country I'm from, what languages I can speak, what my interests are and how old I am. Everyone guesses that I'm Japanese, born in the States and enjoy drinking and basketball. Totally off the mark, but they always nail the age.

Back home, any time I attempt to partake in an activity in which participants must be above the age of majority, I get carded. Example: I go to the liquor store to buy something to bring to a friend's house and without fail, the cashier says to me, "Can I see your ID please, sir?" Which wouldn't be that bad, if it weren't for that condescending you've-gotta-be-kidding-junior-i've-got-email-addresses-older-than-you expression on their face. Here, I am treated like an adult, but it's got its drawbacks. I can't scam student prices for anything.