No Longer Broken Blog

My blog has been broken for the last few days, in that I haven’t been able to connect to add entries. It now appears to be fixed again (whether due to something my webhosting company did, or due to the vagaries of Shub-Internet, I know not), so normal service will be resumed as of today.

Man in the Middle

Well, I read all of John Amaechi’s autobiography this afternoon. See the previous article, “As Others See Us”, for my reaction to the bit about me. Since the book isn’t about me, I’ll try to keep this post about him.

It was very interesting. He worked very hard to achieve something he wanted to do, and now is using the influence and money gained to do something he believes in. It’s something I can wholeheartedly approve of, too. While I wouldn’t do basketball, the ABC Foundation is the sort of thing I’d like to think that I’d do with the money if I had that much. John, of course, actually has it, and actually is doing it, which puts him a long way above my pure talk.

It’s also clear from the book that it is deeply unpleasant to be gay and in the closet, particularly in a homophobic society. I’m glad he’s been able to come out.

Overall, though, it sounds like his life has not been very enjoyable. Starting from the betrayal by his only friend at primary school (it wasn’t like that, honest), he doesn’t seem to have had much luck with friends, and wasn’t even doing a job he particularly liked. It’s hard to shake the impression that it all starts now: now that he can give his time to mentoring young basketball players, and doesn’t have to worry about the press picking up on his sexuality, he can actually get on with living his life.

I guess you would get more out of the book if you knew anything about basketball; I’d heard of some of the people he mentioned, but not all, by a long chalk, even of the ones mentioned without any other reference, as people “everyone knows”.

With the perspective of the whole book, it looks like I really hurt him back when he was 12, enough that it still smarts 25 years later. It would be nice to have the chance to apologise for that. Alas, I can’t think of any way to do it that might sound even vaguely sincere (“Hey, famous millionaire, I’m really sorry I was mean to you at primary school, can we be friends again?” Hmmm…), and 25 years after the fact is, after all, a bit late. I don’t even have any clear memory of what I did anymore, although, as I mentioned, I do remember feeling that I’d got it wrong, somehow. I’d like to apologise, because it hurt him and I think I must have been in the wrong (I can’t even directly remember that). Public expressions of regret don’t count; I would need to apologise directly. And that looks impossible.

On the other hand, it looks like it smarts 25 years later. It doesn’t look like I played a major negative role in his life. I certainly hope not.

Anyway, I can go on playing no role in his life, as, I can hope, the best is yet to come.

As Others See Us

So, John Amaechi’s autobiography has arrived, and I’ve read the first couple of chapters. I am in it, briefly. I will quote (fair use covers it, because it’s really brief).

“In primary school I had but one friend, David, who was similarly nerdy only smaller, slight, and pale. We were united as powerless outcasts, so we spent our time together imagining ourselves as various superheroes, destined for glory and the redemption of revenge.”

Can’t argue with that. I remember the imagining ourselves as superheroes bit very well. I don’t actually remember the incident he relates afterwards, of defending me from people throwing snowballs, but I do remember that sort of thing going on. Given how selective memories of early youth are, I strongly suspect that it did happen pretty much as he describes it. His account of his lurking father neatly explains why I seem to have exactly one memory of him being round at my house, a memory that, I think, must have taken place after his eleventh birthday, because I remember having my ZX81, which I got for Christmas in 1981.

OK, next quote.

“Not long after the snowball incident, Mum threw me a 10th birthday party. Only one kid showed up. As a reward for my loyalty and protective instinct, David had dumped me, apparently not wanting to associate with school whale any longer.

“Because he was a year younger, he had declared that he needed to “move on”, since I would be graduating and he needed to find new friends anyway. I sent him a sorrowful “but we were friends, I trusted you, you lied to me” note. He mailed it back with no comment other than having corrected my spelling mistakes in red ink.”

Ouch. I don’t remember correcting his spelling mistakes in red ink. Unfortunately, it’s entirely plausible that I did. My social skills were a little lacking. Actually, I think he must have conflated several events here, because I’m pretty sure we were friends until he left our primary school, which was nine months after his eleventh birthday. So, here’s what I remember. My details are just as likely to be wrong as his, of course. (Mum, if you remember any of the incidents around here, feel free to email me to let me know what actually happened.)

It is entirely plausible that I missed his tenth birthday party. He might have been dreaming of becoming a psychologist at that point, but I was seeing one. I remember one birthday of mine from around that time going spectacularly wrong, although I think it must have been a bit later. My birthday is very close to his, and slightly before. If we’d had an argument at my party, I could well have still been sulking when his rolled round. I was also asthmatic, and prone to attacks from over-excitement (which meant that I could never be told in advance that my father was coming to visit, and was often ill on my birthday). So I might have missed his party because I was looking forward to it.

However, I distinctly remember us still being friends in the summer of 1982, before he left primary school. I remember this because I remember us getting into trouble for playing kind-of tennis off at one end of the playground and losing a couple of balls over the fence. Also, our primary school only did swimming lessons in the final year at that point, so the “whale” incident can’t have happened until almost a year after his tenth birthday. (The year I was in the top class, they started giving the next class down one term of lessons. I remember being annoyed at losing a term of swimming; I enjoyed it. Hated the moment of actually getting into the water, mind you.)

I do remember writing to him to say “look, we’re never going to become superheroes”, and getting a reply back saying “I think we both knew that really”. (He’s come a lot closer to it than I’ve managed, that’s for sure.) I have a feeling that that letter was an attempt to somehow reconfigure the friendship, and that it happened after he had left primary school (and thus, when he was around 12).

The critical point was that we went to different private schools after leaving primary school, schools about six miles apart. John had wanted me to go to the same school as him, which, if I really was his only friend, makes sense.  In the end, I’d opted for another one.

I also remember feeling a bit guilty about the end of the friendship for years. I remember feeling that I had, somehow, handled things badly and made him angry with me. It looks like I was right about that. I didn’t know how to patch things up, or what to patch them up to, and by the time I had enough social nous that I could probably have managed it, it was five or six years later, which is a bit late.

I am, however, sure that it was nothing to do with him being the “whale”, or being picked on by his peers. I don’t think I ever noticed that he was picked on.

Had we both been mature, confident adults, I have no doubt we would have worked through the problems, and might still be in touch now. But, of course, we weren’t. And now we have twenty five years of completely different life history behind us, so fixing it is unlikely. Plus he’s a millionaire basketball star and I’m… not.

So yes, basically, this is a bit painful, and not because I feel slandered. Rather, it’s because, although I think he must have details wrong (maybe that was the ghost writer, though), the broad sweep fits my memory. We were good friends at primary school. I messed up and spoiled the friendship at the end.

Damn.

John Amaechi

Back when I was in primary school, my best friend was a boy a year older than me, and taller than most of the teachers. After primary school, we went to different secondary schools, and lost touch.

A few years ago I discovered that he had become a basketball player, and was playing for the NBA in the USA. This was one of those “Oh, yes, that makes sense…” moments. I mean, he really was taller than almost all the teachers at age 11; that’s not hyperbole.

Today, I find that he’s the subject of a long article on the Guardian website. John Amaechi has come out as gay. He’s also written an autobiography, which I will have to read. (The link on here is to Amazon US, but Amazon Japan also have it, so I’ll get it from them.) From the bits of information mentioned on various websites, he had a lot of problems I didn’t know about at the time. But then, I was ten. Given the nature of the problems, it’s not surprising I didn’t know about them.

OK, yes, part of the reason for reading the autobiography is to see whether I’m in it. I suspect not, as we were only friends at primary school, and, judging from the material online, most of the important things in his life happened later. Come to that, the most important things in most people’s lives happen after they turn eleven. But hey, I lost touch with my best friend from primary school, and now I get to read his autobiography. I mean, how cool is that?

Amazon Advertising

If you scroll down a bit, you will see that I have added some Amazon advertising to the sidebar. There are a couple of reasons for this.

One is that these are called “Omakase” links, which is a Japanese word. It means that Amazon’s computers decide what to display. Right now, they seem to be deciding to display links to my books, which I approve of. Of course, that might well change over time, and it is also supposed to depend on the content of the particular page, and possibly even on the identity of the visitor. (If you have an Amazon cookie in your browser, Amazon knows it’s you.)

Another is that I’m a professional writer, so I might as well see whether I can generate an income stream from the blog too. I’ve been registered as an Amazon affiliate for ages, so setting it up was very easy. It shouldn’t be too obtrusive, tucked away in the sidebar, and I’ve put it below the links that are definitely and always to my books.

Since it doesn’t cost me anything to have the links (oddly, Amazon have elected not to charge people for putting adverts for Amazon on their websites) there’s a good chance that they’ll stay there. I’ll also be curious to see what turns up in the automatic selections. Amazon’s algorithms for that tend to be pretty good, but occasionally they do produce rather peculiar results.

The Collected Stories of Henry James

I’ve just finished reading the Everyman’s Library edition of Henry James’s stories. They only published a selection, but they still run to two volumes, totalling 2400 pages or so. Henry James was quite productive.

Henry James’s style is interesting. The word “lapidary” comes to mind: hard, precise, glittering, and very carefully crafted. It’s not the easiest prose in the world to read, but I do rather like it. I should just make sure that I don’t try to write like that; it isn’t my style, so it wouldn’t work very well.

Reading the collection finally confirmed for me that The Turn of the Screw really is by Henry James. I read quite a lot of his novels some time ago, and they are so far from being ghost stories that I assumed that The Turn of the Screw was actually by M. R. James, who did write a lot of ghost stories. On reading the collected stories, however, I discover that Henry James actually wrote quite a lot of ghost stories: Owen Wingrave is another example. It is interesting that the stories constantly reminded me of White Wolf’s World of Darkness. There are definite similarities of tone, although the writing styles are very different (and I suspect that WW would not be happy if I tried to write a supplement in the style of Henry James).

The jacket blurb claims that the stories have no match in fiction for variety. This is a blatant falsehood. They are almost invariably about the rich and privileged, where “poverty” is having only one servant. They are commonly about writers or portrait painters (in one notable case, about a writer engaged to a portrait painter). One of the characters frequently dies at the end, particularly in the early stories. I think my fictional writings have more variety than that.

They are, however, very rich, and deeply concerned with the psychology of the characters, which is what most literary critics like. They are good stories, and I enjoyed reading them, although I don’t know that I would necessarily recommend reading both volumes over a couple of months, as I did. They might be better taken in small doses.

One point that struck me on a purely personal level. The family of the main character in one story is called “Chart”. That’s the first time I’ve come across our name in fiction.

The Kawasaki City Representative Assembly for Foreign Residents

Today I went to observe a meeting of the Kawasaki City Representative Assembly for Foreign Residents. I mentioned going to the open meeting in my diary back in December, and after that I felt that I wanted to see what a normal meeting was like. My original plan was to go in January, but that was the day I had to go to the hospital with Yuriko, so it didn’t happen. Today was the next meeting (they’re normally once per month), so I did go along.

There were a few general announcements, but for the most part the assembly split into two sub groups, the Education and Culture, and Daily Life groups.  I sat in on the Education group, as I am suddenly much more interested in the educationaly provision for foreign children in Kawasaki.

The representatives apparently go out on “fieldwork” between the meetings, meaning that they go to various official bodies in the city to see what’s actually done. While I suspect that places get advance warning, and thus can clean up their act a bit, it’s still a good idea. This time, they had been to a number of lessons about foreign cultures and discrimination in middle and high schools, and the general opinion seemed to be that the lessons were good.

There was also a lot of information provided by city civil servants, obviously after requests at the last meeting. This was about the city’s school counselor system, and the systems for multicultural education in other countries. The latter revealed the (not terribly surprising) fact that countries with histories of immigration have more developed systems for dealing with the children of immigrants. Of course, this gives Japan the chance to learn from other people’s experience, which is generally a good plan if you can manage it.

The school counselor system was more interesting. Apparently, the city sends counselors to every middle and high school, for eight hours every week. Any students with problems can see the counselor to talk about them. I gather that this is, at least in part, a response to bullying, and suicides arising therefrom. However, the counseling is not limited by subject matter.

The problem, of course, is that it is limited by language. It seems that foreign students who speak Japanese do use the service, and often talk about problems arising from differences in language and culture. There were questions about what the city could do for children who spoke Japanese less well, but the representative said that they didn’t have the budget for either interpreters, or for bilingual counselors. He pointed out, quite reasonably, that such people are quite rare. I’m not sure how this can be solved; while some of the representatives basically wanted the council to throw money at the problem, that’s not reasonable for most of the languages, as there aren’t enough students to require a bilingual counselor on a regular basis. There might be for Portuguese, Spanish, and Tagalog, but most of the Koreans were born in Japan and thus speak Japanese. It is something that should be looked at, though, and that’s the sort of thing that I think the assembly can do well.

As I mentioned before, the assembly is formally established, but it has no authority. The mayor of Kawasaki has to receive its annual report, but he doesn’t actually have to do anything about it. The impression I get is that the city does, in fact, act on the report, but anything that takes more than negligible resources can take several years of campaigning. In a democracy, campaigning on behalf of people denied the vote is never a strong position, so it isn’t surprising that major changes are slow. After all, politicians are more concerned with the wishes of the people who can vote against them. On the other hand, when the assembly brings simple things to the city’s attention, they do seem to get done, and the city does consider major changes (it’s even, apparently, considering giving us representation to go with our taxation).

The next question is whether I will apply to be on the next assembly. Its term doesn’t start until April 2008, so I have plenty of time to think about it, and go along to some of the other meetings before I decide. I am seriously thinking about it, because I would like to get more involved in the local community. After all, this is where our child will be growing up, at least to start with.

Exercises

Something over twenty years ago, I bought a book of exercises. It includes graded exercises, divided into ten weeks. I am currently on week seven.

I feel that the overall plan may have been a little optimistic.

It is true, I must confess, that I have not managed to keep up daily exercises for the whole of the last twenty years. I have, however, been pretty much keeping them up for the last nine months, more or less since last year’s asthma attack cleared up. And yet, while I am on week seven, I am not even fully doing that.

The problem is the press ups. The exercises require twenty press ups, followed by five hand-clap press ups, where you push yourself up off the floor, clap your hands, and then return to the front-support position.

This morning, for the first time in my life, I managed twenty full press ups in one go. Adding the hand claps is, as yet, utterly beyond me.

I don’t know whether my arms are naturally very weak, but the press ups have always been the most difficult part of the exercise set. If I leave it for too long between exercises (like, a couple of years, which is what happened when I came to Japan) the number I can do falls to zero. For a full press up, the whole body remains tensed with the torso roughly parallel to the ground, the torso touches the ground lightly and the legs not at all, and the arms do not relax at the bottom. For quite a while I couldn’t even keep my legs locked for long enough to do twenty press ups, never mind the complete failure of my arms.

I’ve been on week seven, doing the exercises six days a week, since I got over my New Year illness. At the current rate, I might get up to the 20+5 in another month or so.

I believe I have already mentioned my scepticism about the rate of progress proposed in the book.

Still, I have finally got to the point of feeling the benefits of exercise; the middle age spread has virtually disappeared, climbing four flights of stairs to our flat is no problem at all, and I can carry Yuriko around the flat if necessary. (Fortunately, that is not generally necessary.) I also have a feeling that I need less sleep than I used to; I seem to be coping on 8-9 hours a night, rather than 9-10.

So, on balance, I think that the exercises are effective. They’ve just taken rather longer than the advertisment promised. I’d ask for my money back, but twenty years of inflation mean that’s not worth the bother.

Taxes

Japan has lots of taxes. It isn’t that the tax rates are particularly high, but there are just a lot of categories. Yesterday, I submitted my return for my income taxes. I actually calculated my national income tax bill on the form itself, but the same information will also be used to calculate my local income taxes. Those are billed and paid separately, in three installments over the following year. The same information is used, again, to calculate my national health insurance premiums, but those are also paid separately, in monthly installments. My contributions to the national pension scheme are independent of income, and paid in one lump sum. You can pay monthly, but it’s cheaper if you pay all at once, up front. (Not much cheaper, but 3,000 yen is 3,000 yen.) Property tax, naturally, depends on the value of your property. That’s four installments, although they aren’t actually quarterly. (I split that with Yuriko, and when I asked for her half this time she said “I gave you property tax money in late December”. “Yes dear, that’s because I had to pay it in late December, too.”)

The basic system is very similar to the UK. Most people pay their taxes through the payroll, and don’t have to worry about it. I have to fill in forms, take them to the tax office, and then pay the last year’s taxes, plus estimates for the next year’s. The office assumes that your income will be constant; not always true, and you can ask for exceptions if necessary.

I have to fill in a form saying when I’ve been resident in Japan, so that they can determine which bits of my income are liable for Japanese tax. Last year, everything was, because I was a permanent resident for tax purposes: I had no definite plans to leave. This year, the rules changed, and since I’ve not been here for five years yet I don’t count as a permanent resident, which means that money earned outside Japan is only liable for tax if it comes to Japan. This actually makes no difference to me, but I still had to fill the form in.

Then there are forms to say where your income comes from. There’s a special one for authors, and I filled all my books in on that. This briefly confused the person taking the forms, because all the sections relevant to me were on the back; the front only had my name on.

Finally, there’s the actual return. The return is printed on carbon paper. The others aren’t. You get sent two copies of everything, and have to fill them in in duplicate so that you have your reference copies, stamped by the office to confirm that they’re what you actually submitted.

The biggest difference between the systems  is what you get to deduct from your income. There’s a basic personal allowance, of course, although it’s lower here. You also get to deduct your health insurance and pension payments. The UK equivalent would be if you could deduct your National Insurance payments from your taxable income.

Japan also allows some deduction of charitable and political giving. If you give to approved charities, you get a certificate at the beginning of the year showing how much you gave them in the previous year. You then stick those on your tax form (literally – you glue them onto the back of one of the pages) and fill the numbers in the boxes. The first 5,000 yen is deducted, but after that you can simply substract from your taxable income.

As well as writing the numbers in, you have to write the names and addresses of the charities in a box on the form. I gave to three different registered charities, and I had to write really, really small to fit the information in the box. Are they trying to discourage people from supporting more than one charity?

Filling the forms in was relatively easy; my finances aren’t very complicated, and I keep good records. Then I had to take the forms to the tax office, stand in line, and hand them over. That didn’t actually take too long. Some people drove, and looking at the queue for the car park, they would probably spend longer in that queue than in the submission queue. The walk from the bus stop to the tax office was long enough for me to listen to the Yomiuri podcast, though.

The next stage is simply paying my taxes. That will happen by bank transfer, though, so I don’t have to worry about it. Money will just automatically vanish from my bank account.