My Japanese Husband (Still) Thinks I'm Crazy Read online

  (the comic book)

  (the comic book)

  By Grace Buchele Mineta

  Foreword by Ryosuke Mineta

  Edited by Rebecca Manuel

  Texan in Tokyo

  Copyright © 2015 Grace Buchele Mineta and Texan in Tokyo

  All rights reserved. This book was self-published by the author Grace Buchele Mineta under Texan in Tokyo Press.

  Portions of this book first appeared in the author's blog, Texan in Tokyo (www.howibecametexan.com)

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, stored in, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the author Grace Buchele Mineta with “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” in the email heading, at the address below.

  www.howibecametexan.com

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN-13: 978-0990773696

  ISBN-10: 0990773698

  To Ryosuke, my best friend

  and partner-in-crime,

  everything I have

  and everything I am,

  is yours.

  Forever

  Foreword

  By Ryosuke Mineta

  I know I'm not the only one who loves touching old books. I love smelling them, running my fingers along the pages, re-reading my favorite sections over and over again, and taking a nap on an open book. Books are awesome.

  But guess what is even more awesome than playing with old books? Playing with the pages of a book my wife created. My favorite part of every day is coming home after work and reading the comics Grace drew that day. For a few months now, this has been the highest point of my day.

  I love these books because I like seeing us in comic book form. I think our everyday life is boring, but y'all still read the comics! (Did you see how I used "y'all?” I'm a real Texan now!)

  But despite how boring I think our everyday life is, the way she sees life is really interesting, and reading her comics makes me happy. I can't stop smiling; and when I smile, she also smiles. I hope the comics in this book will make you smile, too! And then your smile will make someone else important to you smile. Basically, this book is a chain of smiles.

  To Grace, this book is kind of like her baby. But instead of coming from where babies normally come from, this book-baby came from her brain.

  Before I met Grace, I didn't understand why people liked art. But now I do. Grace was able to create something out of nothing.

  Some married couples get "baby fever," but we got "book-baby fever!" Grace just couldn’t not make this book. And while this book and the previous one were hers, in the future you’ll see more work from me. In fact, there are more book-babies on the way. Some of them are "English" book-babies, some are "Japanese" book-babies, and some are a mix of the two, with cute cartoons in both English and Japanese.

  We like making books together. Working together with your spouse is pretty fun. Of all my coworkers, Grace is my favorite.

  And I think we’re pretty good at working together. I usually don't think about life; I just enjoy it. Grace spends too much time thinking about life and not enough time enjoying it. As a result, we balance each other out very well.

  Before I end this Foreword, I want to say "Thank You!" to everyone for buying my wife's book, My Japanese Husband (STILL) Thinks I'm Crazy. This means more to Grace than you realize. When she makes something, she puts her whole heart into it.

  So here you go. This book didn't exist. And now it does, thanks to my wife. To me, that's pretty cool.

  My only request for Grace's next book is that I need to be more ripped. She never draws me with enough muscles!

  New Year's in Japan

  Oshougatsu(お正月) is the Japanese word for New Year's. In my opinion, oshougatsu is the biggest holiday in Japan. It's also a family holiday chock-full of traditions. These are some of my favorite Japanese New Year traditions:

  Osechi (osechi-ryouri-御節料理 ) are multi-layered boxes full of traditional Japanese New Year foods. Each box is filled with colorful dishes that symbolize health and prosperity. In the past, people were not supposed to cook, and shops would be closed during the New Year season. As a result, the wife had to prepare three days' worth of food for the family.

  Enter osechi: a collection of dishes that are dried and/or full of enough sugar or vinegar to preserve the food for several days. Osechi are expensive, difficult to make, and altogether unpopular among the younger generations in Japan. Since stores stay open during New Year's now and the stigma from cooking in the kitchen during New Year's has nearly vanished, more families are choosing to skip osechi completely.

  Kagami-mochi(鏡餅) is seen during New Year's. It is made from mochi (pounded white rice). Two flat, round cakes of mochi are stacked and then topped with a tangerine. The kagami-mochi is placed in the household Shinto alter or tokonoma (alcove). On the second Saturday in January, the mochi is broken and eaten by the family.

  Some families (like Ryosuke's parents) even make the mochi fresh, but these days most families buy the stacked mochi from a supermarket. Why? Because the kagami-mochi served in supermarkets is packed with preservatives, so it doesn't mold like fresh mochi.

  Toshikoshi soba(年越し蕎麦) are buckwheat soba noodles eaten on New Year's Eve, sometimes as late as 11:00pm.

  Fukubukuro(福袋), also known as "lucky mystery bags," are a fun blend of bargain shopping and luck. They're grab bags filled with unknown items that are sold during the New Year season.

  Shops bundle together their unsold merchandise from the year before in these bright red bags and sell them at a heavily discounted price. Shoppers expect to get at least 50% off the list price, if not more. Depending on the store, fukubukuro can cost anywhere between 1,000yen and 250,000yen ($10 - $2,500).

  Buying a fukubukuro is a bit like gambling because you never know what you're going to get. Shops almost always throw in one high-priced item per bag to entice shoppers and sometimes offer products that can only be found in a fukubukuro bag during New Year's. If you want that limited edition hat, they tell you, you'd better buy a couple of our fukubukuro bags.

  Before he met me, Ryosuke was really into buying fukubukuro bags. After a couple New Years' together, he realized that most of the time, he just ended up with stuff he didn't actually like. Now we both only buy fukubukuro from candy shops and cafes (random bags of coffee). You can't mess up coffee beans and candy.

  Bell Ringing occurs at Buddhist temples all over Japan on December 31st. Starting at 11:30pm, temples will allow people to line up and ring the main bell with a gong. The bells are supposed to be rung 108 times to symbolize the 108 human sins in Buddhism, but these days, larger temples won't turn anyone away. They will just let people continue to line up and ring the bell all night long.

  New Year's Postcards(年賀状) are commonly sent during the last week of December. In the past, you sent these cards to your faraway friends and family members to let everyone know you were still alive and well. These days, it's just another tradit
ion you must follow.

  Our first married year in Tokyo, Ryosuke and I sent out about 25 cards to our friends and coworkers. Later that year, I asked his older sister, his brother's wife, and his mother how many cards they send each New Year's season and was shocked to hear they typically send 200 - 500 cards.

  New Year's Postcards typically follow the zodiac theme. They can be purchased at convenience stores, stationery stores, and supermarkets, as well as printed from home. To simplify the process, you can buy a special device to print the home addresses on the backs of the cards. However, it is considered extremely rude to send a completely printed card. You should hand-write a message on each card, even if only to say "Have a great New Year and stay healthy!"

  Otoshidama(お年玉) is an envelope of money given to children on New Year's. Adults give decorated envelopes full of money to children in the family, such as daughters, nephews, and grandchildren. There is no "set" amount of money that should be given in otoshidama envelopes, but Ryosuke and I always give his siblings' children 100yen for each year they've been alive. We're kind of cheap.

  Perfection is Stupid: "Good enough" is good enough for me.

  I don’t do “perfect.” Perfection is overrated (not to mention pretty much impossible).

  Instead, I shoot for “good enough.” Not in all aspects of life, of course – just in the things related to creativity. Or, more specifically, I don’t sit by my computer waiting for inspiration to strike so I can write the most on-point essay in the history of clickbait articles.

  I just write. If it’s “good enough,” I publish. If not, I scrap it and try something else.

  Growing up, my mom used to tell me, “All you can do is the best you can do.” As a child, that was exactly what I needed to hear. My parents never rode me about my grades or told me they thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough. My parents are remarkably chill people.

  But I’m not nine years old anymore.

  So I’ve changed my motto from “all you can do is the best you can do” to “‘good enough’ is good enough for me!”

  I like this motto much better because one of the sad facts in life is that, most of the time, it doesn’t matter how hard you tried.

  “Trying your hardest” isn’t always good enough.

  “Good enough” is the only thing that is good enough.

  I will never be able to achieve perfection in my writing. I constantly make grammatical and structural mistakes. I jump between topics. My posting schedule is erratic at best.

  Nonetheless, my blog is “good enough.” The book I just published was “good enough.” The comics I draw are “good enough.” The content I create is “good enough” – and trust me, if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t publish it.

  At some point you just have to let go… knowing full well you might look back in a couple years and be embarrassed by the finished product. But that’s life. And like I said before, if I were to strive for perfection I would never get anything done.

  Most of my blog posts are written on the fly at a crowded cafe or in between meetings. Most of my comics are written while watching TV or taking a break from “real work.” My first and only comic book was self-published – and the road to self-publishing was full of countless mistakes (I wish I would have emailed that company earlier, I wish I hadn’t included that comic, I wish I had time to re-draw this comic, I don’t like the flow, I should have included page numbers, the list goes on…).

  There’s also a flip side to this, though. If something isn’t “good enough,” don’t you dare publish it (or you will only regret it later). And I’m not talking about, “Oh man, my drawing style is so awkward… I can’t believe I posted this!” or, “Wow, I used to think this post was good!”

  What I mean is, if you’re not proud of it now, if you don’t think it’s “good enough” for someone else to read/look at/use/etc., know when to cut your losses and throw in the towel.

  Most people don’t know that this wasn’t the first time I tried to publish a book. Back in March of 2014, I started writing a book called “How to Survive a Long-Distance Relationship.” I interviewed a little over 10 couples and wrote up about 60,000 words. I tried my hardest.

  In the end, it wasn’t good enough. I put the book aside for a month so I could gather my wits. When I read it again… I was deeply disappointed with the structure, writing, and content. I had tried my hardest on this topic, but it wasn’t “good enough.” So rather than try to salvage it, I let it go.

  Sometimes, as an artist, you have to kill your own creations.

  Tons of my blog posts will never see the light of day. I have about 20 comics I’ve drawn but won’t ever publish because I think they’re boring, stupid, or pointless.

  It doesn’t matter how much of my heart I put into something. If it’s not “good enough,” I won't publish it.

  Perhaps in a couple months, or even a couple years, I will take another stab at that Long-Distance Relationship book. I might still hate it. I might find a way to save it. I still have the manuscript on my backup drive, along with all my other abandoned projects.

  I would rather be relaxed and having fun constantly creating content that I love than stressing and striving for an unattainable “perfect.”

  Spotlight: Skincare (Whitening) Products

  Recently I discovered that the Japanese lotion I was using contained a "whitening" element. Although skin tone varies drastically depending on your racial background (along with time spent in direct sunlight with or without sunscreen), much of the Asian world seems to have an preference for light skin.

  I’ve heard bihaku(美白 which combines the kanji for "beautiful" and "white") used to describe skin that is beautifully pale and blemish-free in Japan. Since learning the term, I’ve seen this marketing term on ads and beauty products in our local pharmacy.

  Growing up in Texas, most of the people I knew spent their summers by the poolside working on that perfect tan. Japan is a little bit different.

  Ryosuke and I used to just buy whatever facial lotion was on sale. After all, it's just lotion, right? Neither of us realized the prevalence of whitening cream in facial lotions until we ended up with something to make us more pale for the third time in a row.

  Now I specifically seek out lotions without a whitening additive. When I asked my husband about it, he said many Japanese people believe "色の白いは七難隠す," which is an old Japanese saying that means, "white skin covers seven flaws," or "even if you have unattractive features, as long as you are pale, you can still be beautiful."

  Spotlight: Tissue Pack Marketing

  Tissue pack marketing is a guerrilla marketing tactic popular in Japan. Part-time workers hand out packs of pocket tissues with a small advertisement on the bottom of the plastic wrapping.

  The premise is simple. The pack of tissues is given to potential customers who place it in their bag or pocket. By the time they have used the entire pack, the potential customers have inadvertently glanced at the advertisement a couple of times. By comparison, the same person might just throw away a regular flyer without reading it since the flyer offers nothing of immediate value.

  An estimated four billion packs of tissues are distributed annually. At between 10yen and 20yen per pack, it is a cheap and effective way to get your message across. In the last month, I’ve been handed packets for fitness clubs, bars, beauty salons, and “massage” parlors (that sell a lot more than just massages).

  I've personally never used a product from or contacted an agency because I saw an ad on a pack of tissues… but I’ve also never (consciously) purchased a product because I was handed a leaflet, saw a commercial on TV, or saw an advertisement on the train. Some people do, though, and that’s why this system works.

  A lot of these distributors are paid between 800yen and 1000yen per hour and are told to target a demographic. For instance, as a white, young female, I often receive the tissue packs for makeup but not for porn shops. Even if we are walking hand-in-hand, my husband will g
et a collection of tissue packs from “massage parlors” or “girls bars” in Shibuya while I end up empty-handed.

  So next time you’re walking around in Japan and the tissue distributor skips over you, don’t get (too) offended. You are probably not in their target demographic. And if it keeps happening and you need some free tissues, you can always go up to the next one and politely ask for a pack. They will usually give it to you.

  Valentine's Day in Japan

  In Japan, Valentine’s Day is all about giving chocolate. However, it comes with a little twist: women give men chocolate, not the other way around. The holiday was imported in the 1950s by a Japanese chocolate company that wanted to profit from this magical holiday that centered around buying and giving away things to the people you love.

  Either by accident or on purpose, some of the first ads for Valentine's Day misrepresented it, claiming it was a holiday where women showed love to the men in their lives by giving them various types of chocolate instead of the other way around.

  Now, 50 years later, Japanese Valentine's Day is still a holiday where women give stuff to men. Chocolate is given not only to boyfriends and lovers, but also to male co-workers and other friends. Some women choose to make the chocolates themselves, while others opt to just buy cartons of pre-packaged, high end chocolates.

  There are two types of chocolate you can give on Valentine's Day in Japan: honmei-choco and giri-choco.

  Honmei-choco(本命チョコ), taken from the words honmei (favorite) and choco (chocolate), are chocolates given to a very special person in your life such as a boyfriend, husband, or close male friend. As you might expect, honmei-choco are either expensive chocolates or home-made chocolates filled with love. Personally, I always make my honmei-choco. There's no way I'm spending 5,000yen ($50) on a box of chocolates. Making honmei-choco can be as simple as melting the chocolate and pouring it into a mold. My themes for the last couple years have been Star Wars, rabbits, and Texas-shaped candy molds.