Wednesday, 23 December 2015

You don't even know you

How much is actually real? 
How real are you with yourself?
 As in how true are you to yourself?
How much do you know about yourself?

One of the things I remember from my previous life is a training session we had in which our personalities were tested based on answers to some awful questions. There was a section before the questions which talked about the Johari Window.

The Johari Window suggests our personalities are split into 4 rooms. Room 1 (Arena) is the part of ourselves that we see and others see . Room 2 (Blind spot) is the aspects that others see but we are not aware of. Room 3 (Facade) is our private space, which we know but keep from others.Room 4 (Unknown) is the most mysterious room in that the unconscious or subconscious part of us is seen by neither ourselves nor others. WHAT?

I want to know what is in Room 2(easy enough to find out).  Room 4 is probably really scary, surprising and weird and Room 3, well that is NOYB.

I always think about this though especially when I hide info from some people. It got me thinking that maybe we would be happier if  Room 3 was smaller and we knocked down the wall between Room 1 and 2. I have no idea about Room 4 but I'm sure it governs what is in all the other rooms.

 I did say that we may be happier if we reduced the contents of Room 3  but  I believe I actually mean free.That freedom may only be temporary as those private thoughts could get you locked up.

Are you lost?

OK. I will get to the point.
There is a part of you that you don't know about that others do and apart of you that nobody knows about. 

You only know half about other people

Stay with me.

Half of this half basically a quarter (thank you maths)is unknown to anyone.

Where is it?


Monday, 7 December 2015

Can't commit

I planned to write something every single day. That didn't last a week. Every week and that didn't last a month. I can't be angry at myself because for the most part I am for lack of a better expression a lazy so and so. I don't even punctuate properly. I think it is disgusting behaviour. So what is the point of this post? I guess it is another attempt at getting back to writing in this blog. I enjoy writing, I like it a lot but I don't make enough time to do the things I love. I enjoy making stories up and telling them to my kids (my students). I'm not great at it but I'm getting better and who knows I might write a famous novel or a children's book or a poem. Too many ors? But let's start with putting more effort in the blog.

Saturday, 27 June 2015

slowly but surely

YAYE high fives all around I made it to Kyoto in April this year. It took 6 years since my first job application which I never got, 2 years in Ibaraki-ken the least charming prefecture in the whole of Japan and many many many great nights good experiences made many good friends who were hard to leave. Everytime I tried to say goodbye something would work its way into my eye and make it seem like I was crying (which is ridiculous). I passed my JLPT level 2 and am aiming for level 1. I have started teaching Kizomba here dancing more salsa and bachata which is great. I have danced more in the last 2 months than I did in the entire 2 years I was in Ibaraki.  My new school is great, co worker is great bosses are cool. What else?  Oh I just peered over at our cat "shinobi" I say we as  I am in a we situation. So there is a kitten he is very cute when he wants to be and then a nuisance to my feet at like 5 in the morning.
Slowly but surely things are moving in the right direction.


Saturday, 21 February 2015

Wake up!

After all the hesitation, the doubt, the fear. All the times I felt I shouldn't be here. All the times that I should turn back and seek more familiar shores, where my presence would not be the white elephant (or the black bear). I am one step away from my dream. One more step and then I can wake up and no longer have to dream.

Saturday, 21 June 2014

Shakespeare never had an English GCSE

What is extremely funny to me, well not extremely funny but slightly peculiar is/was my GCSE grade for English literature. I was the boy who read a book a day, there were some times when I would read instead of playing football or read instead of playing kiss chase. My primary school teacher ENCOURAGED me to read Terry Pratchett when I was in year 6 but I preferred a good old Goosebumps. I borrowed tons of books from the library and my library had a lot of cool comics so I got stuck right in, reading was my hobby.

Something happened during secondary school though I am not sure what or why but English Literature provided me with my lowest GCSE grade.  I guess with a subjective subject it is a bit hit and miss. Maybe I didn't understand Shakespeare the way everyone else did Macbeth taught me to stay away from girls in fields and trust my mates, Hamlet was less of a tragedy and more a comedy to me and it is possible that I looked at Of Mice and Men from a different angle than most. Could this be what earned me my dirty little C-cret that I hide behind my  6 A's and 3 B's ? I know a C is an average and even an F gets you a low pass but it's always bothered me. I like to write and am sometimes dissuaded from doing so by this grade. Not anymore though, this post is a middle finger up to that grade and if I ever do write anything of significance ,besides my white paper on Cloud computing a few years ago (NOTE  it was not signifcant) , in my little bio I will put once got a C in English Literature.

Also reminds me of when I wanted to go study Maths at A-level and for some reason I really tanked my mock exams and got a D. I was told that I shouldn't bother applying to study it further and be more realistic with my subject choices.  I was like "OK" studied my ass off got my A, and Maths went on to be my most successful subject at A -Level.

Monday, 28 April 2014

Back for the first time.

So,  a year had passed since leaving London's green and grey shores for the land of sushi, extreme politeness and warm space toilets.I missed my family and friend from the very second I said my teary goodbyes.
I didn't regret my decision to leave the U.K but it was far from easy.

Anyway here I am back for the first arriving at Heathrow after staying awake on a 12 hour flight. My mum greets me and I feel like I just saw her yesterday thanks to Skype. My brother (12 ) got a lot taller and I fear he will be taller than me when puberty really kicks in and my other brother looked ,how do you say, well. HAHAHA.
I got to see my Dad and his new Heisenberg beard and sample his (pepper soup) which I can not handle at all.

Anyway this not a recap but I just wanted to note that in the 10 days I was in London I couldn't see all my friends and family properly and eat enough of my mums food or wrestle or play enough with my brothers or play tennis or call of duty or go to the cinema or dance enough or  anything. There wasn't enough time.

I don't know how it ties in but a lot of the things that were available to me everyday are no longer accessible from my little Japanese town.

Saying that I gave up and lost a lot by moving out here so I'm more determined to make the most of it now.


Monday, 24 February 2014

Last train winner

Sometimes on the last train, Japanese people are not afraid to strike up convo. it happened to me twice yesterday. Anyway while I was with my friends. This guy started to exercise his English but we kind of ignored him as he was a lil tipsy and we didn't have time for him.
I felt sorry after dissing his high 5 . SO I asked him a question just to help him out. What follows is detailed below.

Me : How tall are you?

Tall Japanese guy : 187 cm (Yes we do cm here)

Me : Wow, really tall .(taller than me)

Tall Japanese guy : Yeah,how tall are you ?

Me: 183cm

Tall Japanese guy : Oh. I'm TALLER than you. I'm the winner. I'm the winner.

He continues in this mocking tone which irritates me a little.Plus his friends were giggling and he was trying to show me up.

Me: How many centimetres are you ?(Pointing to an area of my anatomy)

Tall Japanese guy: (Looking confused) says nothing