The power of the kotatsu

A kotatsu

For several years I've wanted to buy a kotatsu. In case you're not sure what they are, they are tables with an upper table that you can take off in order to drape a thick blanket over the base of the table. You shove the upper table part back, and voila, you have a table with a blanket.

You sit on the floor to enjoy your koatsu, usually on cushions.

I forgot to mention the best part of these lovely tables: They come with a little stove attached to the bottom of the base table, ensuring your lower body (or all of you depending on how swallowed up you become in the kotatsu) is toasty warm.

I finally bought one last year, and I haven't looked back.

Kotatsus are quite possibly the greatest invention for winter that has ever been thought up.

They are also like the black holes of the universe, though. As soon as you turn on that little stove and have a nice clementine or two within arm's reach along with a nice cup of tea, you may never leave the kotatsu. Like a weekend of random club hopping and binge-drinking, your entire weekend could be swallowed up in a heart beat, and you may never realize it.

As it finally feels like it may be winter here (which I find deeply unfortunate), I've set up my kotatsu for the winter, and I'm currently nice and warm as I write this, and quite unwilling to get up and do anything, which may include making dinner.

Somehow these nifty devices make winter a little more bearable, but I have yet to figure out how to willfully turn the kotatsu off, get up, and do something remotely productive. Why bother when you can sit here, instead?

I have a dream of one day buying this one, featuring a Mickey Mouse pattern: http://www.bellemaison.jp/disney/102/pr/3202013C/150580/?SHNCRTTKKRO_KBN=0H

America, why don't you have these yet?

Fast Food Chains in Japan vs. America

A menu for Dominos in Japan

This may come as a shock to...no one...but McDonalds and such can be found nearly everywhere on Earth. The Sphinx in Egypt, what is it looking at? I heard the answer is a KFC. I was personally dumbfounded to find a Starbucks put right outside the entrance to Canterbury Cathedral in England.

Japan, naturally, is no exception. Although Burger King is becoming harder and harder to find, and I've yet to see a Taco Bell, you can find Subway, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Coldstones, Dennys, Starbucks, Baskin Robbins and Dominos here. (I know that many people don't consider Starbucks to be a part of the fast food industry, but I believe it fits the description pretty well.)

To be clear, it is my firm belief that when you are in a foreign country as a tourist, it is your sworn duty to avoid fast food places available in America like the plague. I think it's absolutely ridiculous to go to, say, Italy and spend your entire time there eating at McDonalds.

However, when you are living in a foreign country for a long time, you start to miss eating some of the food from home. I mostly enjoy cooking food from home, but every now and then I like to wander into a fast food place and just see what they have from time to time.

Below is a list of what makes each fast food place different compared to its counterpart in America.



First, as a general rule to remember, portion sizes in Japan are a fraction of what they are in America. Don't walk into any of these places expecting that 100 yen will get you a hamburger the size of your fist.

Second, a little trait that I happen to love, most of Japan's fast food places offer unsweetened versions of tea (green, oolong, black) right alongside their options for Coke or Pepsi. Japan also offers, in some places, a lovely green pop called Melon Soda, which is amazing.

Burger King 
As I said, Burger King is disappearing in Japan. I have no idea why, actually. Therefore, I've only had a couple of opportunities to eat at Burger King here, and neither one left much of an impression on me. The portions were, of course, smaller, but I feel like it was about the same as America.

Taco Bell
I've never seen a Taco Bell in Japan, but I've heard rumors that it exists somewhere. I, personally, do not care about Taco Bell so I've never actively gone looking for it.

Subway
Much to my supreme disappointment, Subway in Japan does not offer the Italian herbs and cheese bread option. You have four bread options: White, wheat, honey wheat and sesame. The menu, in general, is much more bare-boned than what you expect in America's Subways. There are no chips available, either. Still, every now and then it's nice to eat a sandwich.

Pizza Hut
There is only delivery available for Pizza Hut here; no restaurants. However, I loathed the Pizza Huts in America. Their pizzas tasted disgusting. In Japan, much to my delight, Pizza Hut is actually really good. It's expensive (Japan's large is the size of America's medium, and for about double the price), but it's worth having a nice pizza from them every now and then.

McDonalds
The portions are, again, smaller, and the options available on the menu aren't fantastic, but what I love about the McDonalds in Japan is that people actually go into the restaurant and eat there. When was the last time you saw that in America? I only remember people who hadn't mastered the art of eating while driving who were condemned to eating inside. In Japan, though, people go to McDonalds to study, hang out or just relax for a bit. McDonalds has started to realize this, and they are rolling out McDonald's cafes everywhere in a kind of cute attempt to cut into Starbucks' turf.

Coldstones
Japanese people do not like incredibly sweet, rich-tasting desserts. Japanese people were born and raised on fluffy cakes with incredibly light whipped-cream frosting that has only the hint of something sweet to satisfy you with taste. Needless to say, I am not a fan of what Japan has to offer by way of cake. Their ice cream, unfortunately, was beaten into line with their cakes. Coldstones in Japan may look like the ice cream back home, but when you taste it, you will mostly taste ice with a sprinkling of sugar. It's incredibly disappointing.

Dennys
While Americans might think of the word ghetto when they think of Dennys, in Japan, Dennys is just another one of their fast food chains that are disguised as restaurants. They call them "family restaurants." This is when you want to sit down somewhere slightly nice-looking, but you don't want to spend too much money. Dennys in Japan is, therefore, about 2,000 times nicer than the ones in America.
   Other family restaurants in Japan include Big Boy (also not ghetto), Jonathans, Jolly Pasta, Bamiyan and Saizeriya.
    Each family restaurant takes a stab at appearing to specialize in a particular type of food. So Bamiyan, for example, offers attempts at Chinese food while Saizeriya offers attempts at Italian food. From what I can understand of Dennys, they offer attempts at steak. I personally like Jonathans the best because they seem to have given up specializing in anything, and, instead, just offer "Western" food.

Starbucks
To be honest, I was never a fan of Starbucks. I hate coffee, and I hate things that are overpriced. Starbucks and I were doomed to never be friends. Thus, I usually avoid going to Starbucks in Japan. However, when a friend wants to go to Starbucks, then I have no choice but to tag along. The portion-size rule applies, but the prices seem happily immune to the portions, and you'll find yourself paying around $5 for coffee in a cup that looks fit for a child's tea set. Like in America, Starbucks is designed for you to sit there and study or work if you want, but I have heard of people being kicked out of Starbucks for sitting there for too long.

Baskin Robbins
Most Japanese people don't even know they have Baskin Robbins, even though they see it everywhere. Here in Japan, it's known by how many flavors are offered, Thirty-One. So if you go around asking for a Baskin Robbins, you will be met with shrugs and looks of complete bewilderment. Baskin Robbins may not offer such amazing flavors as birthday cake or cookie dough, but I do happen to love Baskin Robbins over Coldstone for trying harder to be faithful to America's version of incredibly rich, sweet ice cream.

Dominos
I loved Dominos in America, and I love it here in Japan, too. It's a take-out place just like in America, and the menu options are, naturally, different (for reasons unknown to everyone, the Japanese prefer corn on their pizzas and think Americans are insane for wanting pepperoni on theirs), but the taste is basically the same. As a tremendous lover of cheese, especially cooked cheese, I am thrilled that Dominos in Japan is pretty faithful to Dominos in America. The prices are, naturally, terrible (for a large that's the size of America's medium, I get to pay around $30), but it's truly nice to have good pizza every now and then.

Goshuin （御朱印）

A goshuin book

Probably like many other visitors to Japan, I love visiting temples and shrines. The architecture is stunning, the peacefulness of the grounds, the occasional siting of a monk or the distant sound of a large bell ringing into the air...all of it creates spectacular pockets of serenity in places in Japan that could, otherwise, simply be busy, overcrowded, and aesthetically boring.

You can find temples and shrines located in random places all over Japan. I've found the red gate entrance to a shrine tucked in shopping alleyways or standing alone in a rice field. They are everywhere.


First, it might be a good idea to mention the difference between a shrine and a temple. I'm by no means an expert, but this is what I have come to understand.

The entrance to a temple

A Temple: They usually have a large gate that appears to look more like a building than an entranceway. Temples are Buddhist holy sites, and you will find monks with their obligatory shaved heads and long robes at these temples. There is usually a statue of Buddhas and bodhishatvas somewhere in the temple grounds as well.

The entrance to a shrine

A Shrine: These are easily spotted because they have (usually) a red, simple, gate called a torii gate, which is two vertical poles supporting two horizontal poles, at the entrance. Shrines are Shinto holy sites, and you will find priests and priestesses wearing white robes with red pants here. Many shrines are dedicated to certain aspects of life, such as helping you pass college entrance exams, give birth safely, or just commute safely to work.




Despite the fact that temples and shrines are religious sites to two completely different religions, Japan doesn't seem concerned about it, and you will often find temples and shrines coexisting next to one another to the point where you need to ask the nearest person working there whether you're still in the shrine or if you're in the temple.



I like both temples and shrines, and every time I visit one, I try to buy a momento of some sort from each place the way people buy little tokens from the great cathedrals in Europe, I suppose.

The problem is that I haven't had a great deal of luck in finding a good momento. I used to collect little embroidery pouches that contain a good luck charm inside (called "omamori"). These charms are Japan's version of the four-leaf clover that you can carry around with you, but they are more specific. One charm can give you good luck in love; another in health or wealth.

I used to love collecting omamori because the name of the shrine or temple was usually embroidered on the back of the pouch.

The problem, however, is that I learned you should return the omamori after a year of having it. I learned that shrines and temple are like libraries, and the omamori are like books. You can only borrow the omamori, but you have to return it after a year or else you're depriving someone else of that "book."



So that took care of that.

Other than omamori, temples and shrines don't really have anything that you can collect, like postcards or keychains or anything like that (some of the major ones do, however). You can get your fortune on a piece of paper, but even those are often left at the temple or shrine, tied to a rope because the receiver didn't like the fortune they got.

For a long while I had to just be satisfied with the pictures I took.



Then, one day at a World Heritage Site temple in Nikko, I spotted an old woman handing a little hard-cover book over to a monk who was manning the sales of omamori there. I watched as the monk took the book, flipped it open to an entirely blank page, took out a calligraphy brush, and began writing kanji on the blank page.

A monk writing kanji

Upon jabbing my (now) husband repeatedly and dragging him closer to the monk writing the kanji, my husband explained to me that the old woman had handed over what is called a "goshuin."

A goshuin, I have learned, is like a passport. When you visit a relatively large temple or shrine, you can get the name of the place written in a blank page of your "passport", followed by the date you were there. They are supposed to be used for more meaningful purposes than just satisfying my shallow need to collect something from places I've been to, but I knew I had to have one.


So, for around 2,000 yen, I bought the hard-cover book at the Nikko temple and had the monk write in mine. The kanji is stunningly beautiful.



I haven't looked back since.

Every time I go anywhere that I think might have a nice temple or shrine, I make sure to take that little hard-cover book with me. I've got entries from temples and shrines ranging from Kamakura to Aomori. My dream is to one day go back to Kyoto and just go crazy collecting them.

The inside of a goshuin book

If you want to do this, here's how:
1.First, you need to learn how to say the word properly. It is pronounced: "Goh-shu-een", with the emphasis on the second syllable.

2. Next, you need the hard-cover book. These are usually available at the major temples and shrines in Japan, so first you need to go to a huge tourist destination shrine or temple and get one for around 2,000 yen. Just ask at any of the gift shops by saying, "Goshuin?" and look hopeful. Sometimes the hard-cover books are on display, so point at it.

3. Next, I highly recommend you make your life easier by trying to memorize what the kanji for "goshuin" looks like, because if the shrine or temple offers it, you will see signs for it near the entrance, or at the places selling the omamori. The kanji is 御朱印. Do whatever you can to memorize this.

4. If you have no aptitude for memorizing kanji, then you'll have to ask the people manning the places selling the omamori and other items. Show them your hard-cover book, and say "goshuin?" with a hopeful look on your face. Hopefully, they will point you to where you can get it done if you aren't in the right place.

5. If you're at the right place, or if you have memorized the kanji and have found the right place, then open the hard-cover book to a blank page and say, "Goshuin kudasai." (kudasai is pronounced: kuu-dah-si, with the emphasis on the first syllable and the last "i" being a hard "i" like in "ice.")

6. Wait as the person there writes in the book. It's not always a monk or a priest, just to warn you. I've had old ladies working at the temple or shrine randomly do it. Also, at some of the busier temples or shrines, you will be given a number while your book is set down in a line of other books, in which case just wait around that general area as best you can (depending on how busy it is) and wait to get your book back. It can take a few minutes for the person there to get to your book.

7. Get your book back and pay the standard fee of 300 yen. Say thank you by saying, "Arigatougozaimasu" (Ah-ree-gah-toh-goh-za-ee-mahs).



And voila, you have yourself a truly fantastic passport collection.

The Foreigners

At the science museum in Odaiba, Tokyo

It's been too long since I've written in here. Sorry about that.

Today, I'd like to write about the types of foreigners who come to live in Japan for a few months or more. I have found that, during my time of being here, they kind of break down neatly into a few categories.

(Note: Of course these types don't categorize absolutely everyone. Some people are also a mash-up of these types.)


The Players: These are foreigners who come to Japan on a sort of mental vacation from their lives back home. They think they can do whatever they want in Japan with little consequence because Japanese people don't outright express their displeasure, allowing these foreigners to trash things, not pay taxes, annoy their neighbors, and generally make the lives of anyone near them miserable. They then skip merrily back to their country as if they've just spent a nice, long vacation in Vegas.
            Their impact: It is because of these types of foreigners that many Japanese people distrust and outright hate foreigners. Japanese people have come to equate foreigners with horrible people thanks to these foreigners. Thanks to these foreigners, the rest of us have to suffer. A lot.



The Explorers: These are foreigners who come to Japan because it happens to be located far away from home, and it's in Asia, the area of the globe that houses so many other exotic locations. These are foreigners who come here to eat the raw squid just to say they did; the foreigners who like to brag about the knife fight they were in while traveling around a nearby Asian country, and the foreigners who disapprove of Japan for being "too tame."
          Their impact: Thanks to these foreigners, some Japanese people have come to believe that not all foreigner people are bad; some will actually eat their food. I happen to love talking to these types of foreigners because they usually have some interesting stories to share.



The Geeks: These are the most prevalent type of foreigners in Japan. These are the foreigners who watched a ton of anime in their home country, fell under the impression that Japan is just like what it is in the anime they watched or comic books they read, and come here full of dreams of a utopia here on Earth. They wander a section of Tokyo called Akihabara in awe. The problem is that they then realize that even in Japan, geeks are part of the fringe society that isn't well thought of, and they feel as alienated as they did back home. They usually go home disappointed and disillusioned.
          Their impact: They can be annoying when they first land in Japan. These are usually the geeks who devoted years of their lives to studying the most useless parts of the Japanese language, and they love to show off their Japanese skills at every moment possible to anyone who is nearby to listen. It has all the feel of your relatives forcing you to sit through home movies.



The Soul-Searchers: These are foreigners who come to live in Japan because they feel lost at home, and they hope that a change of scenery will help them find their way again. They're the ones who tend to fall into Buddhism or Shintoism while they're here.
           Their impact: These are my favorite type of foreigners living in Japan, because they tend to be open-minded and tolerant of the differences in culture. They seem the most reflective of the types, and the most agreeable to hang out with. If you want to go try something crazy, these people will go with you.



The Opportunists: These are the foreigners who see job opportunities in Japan and decide that, with the economy being terrible at home, they could stand a few years abroad to save up some money, then take that money back home with them.
          Their impact: These are the foreigners who really, really didn't think things through when they came here, and they tend to suffer the most for it. It is no small thing to leave everything you know and go live in a place that happens to believe their way of life is correct and yours is not, and money doesn't provide enough of an incentive to stay here and continue suffering the culture shock that crashes down on you like a building collapsing. Right before they go home, these foreigners openly express their hatred of Japan and all things Japanese to any foreigner within earshot, effectively spreading their little rain cloud around to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby.



The Roots-Searchers: These are foreigners who have at least some trace of Japanese heritage in them, and they came to Japan to learn more about that.
          Their impact: I also love hanging out with these people because they tend to be kind, tolerant and open-minded about Japanese culture along with being as shocked as the other foreigners by aspects of the culture. Sometimes they hold a superior attitude to other foreigners, but many times they seem frustrated by either being too accepted by Japanese people or not accepted enough, depending on just how much Japanese blood runs in them and how good their Japanese is.



The Randomists: These are foreigners who came to live in Japan on a whim. Maybe they just happened to study Japanese in college because it was the only class open; maybe they just pointed on a map with their eyes closed, and their finger fell on Japan. They seem unimpressed by just about everything.
            Their impact: They can be fun to be around, but any awe you may find about something will probably fall flat on them. If they didn't care enough to think through living in Japan in great detail, then they won't be bothered to think about much of anything too deeply.

Logic vs. Commute

Commuters wait for their train

I hate commuting with the same passion that workers the world over understand. We are all united in this underlying frustration that is wasting so much energy trying to get to a place we don't even particularly want to go to, especially at such an ungodly hour in the morning. 

The longer I've been commuting in Japan, around Tokyo, the more I've come to long for the commutes that most Americans suffer through. Admittedly, I've never actually commuted to work in America, but the idea sounds more and more appealing as the days roll past.

While Americans are forced to sit in their adjustable, air conditioned cars (complete with comfortable seats, a radio and a music player), Japanese people are crammed into trains. I don't mean that as hyperbole; Japanese people are crammed into trains. Every morning I am slammed into a metal railing that prevents me from falling into the lap of the person who was lucky enough to grab a seat beside me. You know immediately who has been working so hard that they haven't had time to shower. 

When you finally get to the final station, a torrent is unleashed from the train, and I've watched several bewildered tourists and backpackers flung aside in its wake. Everyone is either flat-out running to make the next train or carelessly clawing, jabbing and stepping on your feet to get ahead of the onslaught. 

When I finally reach my destination train station, I have to weave and dart past people, literally fighting for enough space to get up the stairs and to the ticketing counters so I can just leave the station. 

And finally, finally, I'm outside in real air, able to breathe without hitting anyone if I don't stretch my arms out too far. 

Then I reach the bus stop, and the source of my current problem: 

As you can hopefully see from this map I created, the bus stop for the bus I need to ride is located in a corner, meaning that people (the blue dots) line up in a kind of horseshoe to get on the bus. I don't care if I'm within that horseshoe, but when I'm not (see the red dot), then the problem arises. 

Do I follow that horseshoe shape to get on the bus? Or do I do what the diagram above suggests and just wait for all of the people in front of me to get on the bus, and then go directly on the bus from where I'm standing? 

Logic says I should wait. 

The problem is that I can feel the impatience of the commuters behind me, their bodies shifting anxiously, as if the bus will leave without them. 

But my God I hate doing illogical things, and following that horsehoe shape is a complete waste of time. 

So I wait and shoulder the stress of the people behind me, hoping they can realize I'm being logical. 

Sometimes when I'm within the shape of the horseshoe, and I look back at whoever is standing in that red dot position, I see some people waiting there like I do. I like to think I'm starting a trend. 

And then yesterday, I was in the dreaded red dot position, and I waited, pretending to fiddle with my Smartphone in order to give me something to do. 

The person behind me tapped my shoulder. 

I looked at the bespectacled man, bewildered. 

"Are you in line? Mind if I go ahead?" he asked.

"Um, sure," I said. 

So I stood there, and he went past me to follow the horseshoe shape. 

The people behind him followed him. 

I was completely flabbergasted as I stood there, watching them all follow that horseshoe shape.

Sometimes I've watched little kids run up to their parents, tag their parent's leg, and then run off in the opposite direction. Back and forth they go like little boomerangs, wildly excited by the repetitive game. 

I felt like that parent, waiting there while my kids made a pointless detour to get on the bus. 

And then I waited until I spotted the bespectacled man. 

I cut in behind him and got on the bus. I wanted him to at least feel like he'd accomplished something, I guess.  

How can people be so ingrained in the commute pattern that they don't see how illogical some of their actions are? Exactly how robotic are people anyway? 

The Dentist

At the dentist's

Last Monday I felt pain in the lower-left part of my mouth. Like the times before when some part of me has hurt, I ignored it for a couple of days.

By Wednesday, however, the pain was such that I couldn't chew anything on the left side of my mouth. Touching my left lower cheek brought excruciating pain.

Unlike many people in this world, I do not hate going to the dentists. Of course I don't treasure the experience, but I don't find excuses not to go.

So when I felt this pain, and it didn't get any better, I saw my local dentist.

Since most Japanese people don't get out of work until around 8pm, and most doctor's offices close at around 5pm, the waiting room was empty when I walked in at 3pm.

The receptionist took one look at me and seemed to hold her breath while keeping her eyes steady on me as I took my shoes off at the door and slipped into the slippers every doctor's office in Japan forces its patients to wear for reasons beyond my comprehension.

I've started to enjoy waiting out the agony doctor's office receptionists experience when they see me walk in through the door. Every single time I get the stare of, "Oh dear God I last took English in high school and I don't remember anything except 'hello.' What do I do? Does she speak Japanese? She doesn't look like she speaks a word of Japanese. What do I do?"

I like waiting until the last minute to speak to them, because they always drive me crazy after they find out I can speak Japanese.

This receptionist at the dentist's office was pretty loud and straightforward about her relief that I could, in fact, speak enough Japanese to communicate with her.

"I saw you come in through the door and I panicked," she said. "I'm so glad you can speak Japanese. I'm so shocked you can speak Japanese!"

Japan is not a place for any non-Japanese-looking person hoping to blend in with the background. When all I wanted to do was sit down in the waiting room and nurse my aching mouth, I stood there answering the receptionist's questions about my Japanese ability while the nurses flooded in behind the receptionist to take a look at the foreigner.

Finally I got to sit down and battle the form, naturally written all in Japanese. It's one thing to feel like you've got a good handle on written Japanese; it's quite another to fill out a doctor's form.

While I tackled the form, an old man shuffled through the main door. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him wordlessly move my shoes (still at the entrance to the place) so they were pointing toward the door, then he did the same for his own. He exchanged a few brief words with the receptionist and then sat down far away from me.

The receptionist clicked on the TV just in time for a 15 minute program dedicated to radio exercises for the elderly. I watched as they had three perpetually smiling women do basic stretches, one of them in a chair for, as the narrator said, "those of you who can't stand." On and on the stretching and lunges went while a middle-aged woman plugged away a chipper song on a nearby grand piano.

As the station slipped into the news, I handed in my form to the dentist's receptionist and waited. An elderly woman battled with the step up you have to take from the entrance of the place to the actual waiting area, and then she sat down in between the old man and me.

One of the nurses came out and looked at me.

"For how long can you afford to be here today?"

"Um...until four."

I had no idea why she wanted to know that.

"Ok, I'm sorry, but we'll have them go ahead of you and then have you come in."

No explanation of why, but I sat there struggling to comprehend the news while the old man and woman were looked at before me.

Finally it was my turn.

The dentist, an elderly man, took one look at a cap I have on a tooth in my lower left jaw and said, "We need an X-ray."

After the X-ray, I watched the nurse put the little photo of my teeth on a light board near the chair they had me at, and everything looked fine to me. Then the dentist looked at it.

He leaned forward toward the light board, making noises of shock and disapproval.

"Well, I can give you something for the pain," he said, "and I can shave down the capped tooth, but if the pain doesn't stop, I'll have to take out the _____________."

The joys of Japanese. Of course I don't understand the important part. I only knew he wasn't suggesting I have my tooth taken out. That was it.

So while my mind wildly tried to fill in the blank in the world's worst version of ad libs, the dentist went on to explain why whatever it was that needed to be taken out had to be taken out, but why he would only do it as a last resort.

He then went on to shave down my tooth, which was not a fun experience, and then I was free to go. If the pain didn't recede, then I would need to come back.

I slipped into my shoes, pointing toward the door, and promised I'd call if the pain was still there in a few days.

The Battle to Study Rages On

Tokyo Tower

I've got a little over a month left until my next round with the JLPT Level One begins. I think I'm starting to go a little bit crazy studying, too.

Currently, I'm studying 559 words, and that number dramatically increases with each passing week. Add to that the 80+ grammar points I need to know like the back of my hand and the fact that only studying 559 words isn't going to anywhere near cut it, and I would dare say I am doomed yet again.

I should also be listening to more news in Japanese and reading fascinating essays that range from one person's views on traffic control in Japan to the ways in which Japanese people have communicated over the centuries.

I think I'm starting to annoy anyone near me who speaks Japanese.

The minute they say a word I'm studying or utter a grammar point, I will politely trample over their speaking to declare, "Hey, I'm studying that right now!" This is initially met with shock and a slow nod of the head, but as time passes and I continue to interject with this meaningless comment, the nods become more pronounced, as if I'm a kid who's just spotted an airplane flying overhead.

I'm tired of studying. For the past two years I've been studying. I'd like to stop and take a break.

Instead, I'm about to look up what 墓地 means in English and add that to my list of 559 vocabulary words. That, and about 30 other words.