THE PEARL Soka University of America Student News Magazine
Spring 2010
The Big
Spring Edition
The Great Big Spring Issue 2010
Content
004 Open Mic
Students speak up at Student Forum
007
Soka Education Conference Soka Education and Social Justice
008 Study Abroad:
Nanjing, China
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Study Abroad: Kansai, Japan
010
Apollo’s Ground: Janice Lee [2011]
012 Study Abroad: Madrid, Spain
013 War!
Photo by Janice Lee
gotanopinion?
write a letter to the editor! email pearl@soka.edu
disclaimer: Anonymous letters will not be printed unless otherwise approved by The Pearl senior staff. The Pearl reserves the right to reject letters and/ or columns and edit for clarity, brevity and accuracy. Letters represent only the views of their authors. Nothing on the Op/Ed pages necessarily represents a position of the The Pearl or Soka University of America.
A Short Fiction series
014 Breakfast Music 015 Brazilian Wax cover: Janice Lee
letterfromtheeditor Dear Friends, Greetings from Shanghai and welcome to The Great Big Spring Issue! You’ve probably been wondering where The Pearl (affectionately known as “P”) has been for the last four months. I myself couldn’t locate P for some time, and hoped that our dear magazine was merely bed-ridden, suffering from a bout of the flu (common symptoms include short-staffed-ness, grave technical difficulties and pervasive doldrums). To my great surprise, I was wrong! For the past four months, our brave campus magazine has been on Study Abroad, for he too wanted a taste of the world outside SUA and some soul-food with which to refuel and recharge his batteries. Surely a student body of world-travelers can understand such a longing? P’s journey began in Shanghai, where he had sneakily followed me, hoping to catch a glance at what on earth his editor could want to spend a semester doing instead of caring for him. Here, P began to read all about local Shanghai news in the famous Englishlanguage newspaper, Shanghai Daily. After weeks of inaccurate weather reports, surveys on how many residents wear pajamas out on the street, and which flower gardens showcase which kinds of flowers, P grew bored of fluffy news. He began to wonder, “Even in a society where the news is censored, can’t writers be a little more creative, stirring or informative?” That said, P flew to Nanjing, Madrid and Kansai to visit some 2011’ers who were also studying abroad. Here, he was deeply moved by their eye-opening experiences and decided he must immediately return to SUA and share their stories. On the way home, he flew via London’s Heathrow Airport, where he’d heard about a most interesting project in which writer Alain de Botton became the airport’s first “writer in residence,” and spent a week at a desk in a terminal, writing A Week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary. “What an idea!” exclaimed P. “This is the creativity I wish I had seen in China! Limited resources and access to information are the perfect reason to publish such original articles!” Just last week, P arrived back home to the Ikeda Library, where writers were patiently waiting for him with stories of this spring’s SESRP Conference, student opinions voiced at SSU’s open mic sessions, and fresh columns by staff writers. Like a true SUA student, P quickly checked Facebook and SSU Pubs before getting down to work and his vigor immediately returned after seeing photos of the incoming class of 2014 at Experience Soka and reading about the newly elected SSU Representatives for next year. Thus, his journey culminated into The Great Big Spring Issue, complete with voices from around the world. Next issue, The Pearl is dedicated to our graduating seniors of 2010, and the conversations surrounding their futures as well as those of the underclassmen stepping up to take leadership. Until then, P is back in action, wiser from studying abroad, newly-versed in the language of ingenuity, and ardently battling the last of technical difficulties and the flu. Happy Reading!
letters
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Open Mic!
Student Voices at Student Forum
Photo by Justin Kunimoto
campus
Aaron Freedman [2012]
On Thursday, March 11, 2010, students of Soka University of America (SUA) gathered in the dining hall to participate in a special “Open Mic” session organized by the Soka Student Union Executive Council (SSU EC). SSU EC President Peter Karuppiah (‘10) opened event. “We’re going to be discussing some very important concerns, issues and ideas that can be related to every student and that everyone should be aware of. The purpose of Open Mic is to provide an open and free space for students to share their ideas or concerns. So, in response to students, we have decided to hold this Open Mic with the topic of ‘Culture of SUA.’” Presenters introduced four topics of discussion. After each presentation, any student was able to take the microphone and express their opinions. First, Leonard “Lenny” Bogdonoff (‘11) and Shivangi “Shivi” Chaudhry (‘12) presented information about possible changes in the residential halls for
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next school year, especially a possible theme to unite residents. This began a discussion about aspects of residential life such as segregation of classes, student experiences in residential halls, and student code of conduct (Since the Open Mic, various Residential Life meetings concerning room selection and next year’s housing plan have been postponed due to reevaluation). Next, William “Billy” Spivey (‘12) presented his thoughts about the student body’s overuse of plates, cups, and silverware. This began a discussion about ways in which the student body can lessen its environmental impact. The participants spent most of the Open Mic discussing the third topic. SSU EC Treasurer, Nandini Choudhury (‘12) presented Minami Hattori’s (‘13) topic which asked for students opinions about the relationship between students who are members of the Soka-Gakkai International (SGI, a lay Buddhist organization) and students who are not. Minami’s topic was presented in
conjunction with statements from Sofie Sherman-Burton (‘12) and Gregory “Scott” Williams (‘11) conveying their experiences and opinions as students who are not SGI members. Afterward, more than one dozen students took the opportunity to express their opinions, often more than once, creating an energetic discussion. The final topic, presented by SSU EC Attorney General, Sarah “Kusho” Kakusho (‘10) on behalf of a student who wished to remain anonymous, expressed an opinion concerning the relationship between students who speak Japanese and those that do not. This student wondered if students who can speak Japanese should do so in public places on campus. Much like the previous topic, this topic also encouraged over one dozen students to take the microphone. In an effort to encourage the continuing discussion of the issues the student body brought up during the Open Mic, The Pearl has asked students to send in their opinions.
Photo by Justin Kunimoto
on this campus that everyone is happy all the time. This puts pressure on students to pretend as if they are happy when they are not. Talking about religion has also developed a culture of shame. This isolates students who may not share similar beliefs with other students. In an attempt to counteract these cultures of shame, I have a sticker on my door that says “Safe Space.” It invites anyone who is gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, etc. to come and speak to me without fear of being judged. Ironically, this issue does not have a culture of shame at SUA, thanks to the hard work of Activist Collective to raise awareness about this issue. My invitation also applies people who would like to talk about other cultures of shame.” –Theresa Benkman(‘10)
make that person any less valuable. With this in mind, on bad days it seems that our self-doubt gets the best of us. It may seem as if in order to be “ourselves” we must be the ideal person every day. However, this is impossible; no one is perfect. We are all human and we all have our good and our bad days. I believe it to be unique and wonderful that SUA students strive toward worthy ideals, but sometimes this can make us overly critical of ourselves. Rather than grieving over mistakes or failures, I hope we will be able to learn from them. After all, it is only through learning that we can become ourselves.” –Anri Tanabe(‘11)
Photo by Justin Kunimoto
campus
“I feel that the SUA student body has created what I call “cultures of shame” around certain topics. Cultures of shame prevent people from talking openly about the topics they have been created around. While these cultures of shame may affect the whole student body, people are only willing to talk about them as secrets. Cultures of shame can isolate students and may make them feel that they do not belong at SUA. As students, we are under a lot of pressure to do our best, but we cannot when we feel alone. I want students to start thinking about what issues have been hidden or ignored, and to help prevent other students from feeling isolated. For example, here are two cultures of shame that I have noticed. There is an illusion
“SUA encourages its students to embrace their differences and express their individuality. Theoretically, SUA was constructed to help students do this. However, being oneself can also be even more intimidating within a small campus community. Both news and gossip can spread rapidly, and people cannot hide from interacting with the same people every day. For example, a student may find it difficult to go to the dining hall because he or she is upset or does not want to interact with other students. What does it mean to “be oneself”? Should not entering the cafeteria on a bad day be just as “oneself” as entering the cafeteria on a good day? Simply because someone may not be the ideal person does not
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Open Mic! “During the student forum, the discussion on substance use caught my attention. The students who contributed to this topic brought to surface aspects such as legality, student health, and selfeducation. These students, though using their own lives as topics of discussion, allowed us to understand better a misunderstood issue. I believe that how we treat our bodies is a personal choice. At the same time, I also believe that we must consider the ramifications of our actions on those around us. Others may disagree, but more importantly, finding a balance between what we can do and what we
need to do is the quest of a Soka student. The student handbook warns that certain behaviors are violations of residential and school policies. However, social gatherings involving alcohol and, sometimes, other substances are a reality on campus. Obviously, ideals and reality are not the same and we cannot be ignorant of the differences. As a student body that wishes to resolve conflict through dialogue, we should be actively aware of one another’s actions. By passively accepting another’s actions, we ostensibly support them even though we may actually disagree. I believe freedom of choice comes
with the price of being concerned for and taking care of our peers. The students at Soka often talk about solving conflict through dialogue and the student forum is a great example of the student body putting this into practice. Further, opportunities to address conflicts through dialoguing, especially in order to move away from ignorance, will lead to our growth.” –Lenny Bogdonoff (‘11)
campus
Photo by Justin Kunimoto
If you would like to read in more detail the presentations and opinions expressed during this Open Mic, the full transcript is available on the SSU Publications website www.ssupubs.com. It may be found under the “Executive Council” page in the section labeled “sECret Notes.”
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Photo by Kimura San
SUA’s Sixth Annual Soka Education Conference Aaron Freedman [2012]
enthusiasm stimulated an electric atmosphere throughout the conference. Alumni participation also contributed to the success of this year’s conference. Presenter Kajal Gulati (‘06) applied Soka Education to micro financing in India while presenters Rekha Gokhale and Lisa McMillan (‘07) showed how SUA graduates can apply their education to a new generation of Soka students at Microcosmos Kindergarten in Japan. The impact of alumni participation reaches beyond the bounds of the conference, as well. Alumni who share their experiences after graduation help articulate the results and expectations of SUA students. The conference was also a convenient occasion for current students to connect with alumni. While the conference achieved record attendance during the keynote, attendance during other presentations varied. However, value creation begins with the individual and the responsibility falls upon those who did attend to spread what they learned from the conference to others. During the concluding discussion, one guest pointed out that the conference has proven that its foundation is secure and would benefit from increased community participation. This year’s
Soka Education Conference shines as an indication of SUA’s progress in creating a sustainable and reciprocating university environment. “The annual Soka Education Conference is managed by the Soka Education Student Research Project (SESRP). We may be contacted at sesrp@soka.edu The purpose of the SESRP is: to inspire individuals to embody and perpetuate the spirit of Soka Education; to create a community united in protecting the values of Soka Education; and to encourage thorough and rigorous research into the meaning, possibilities, and development of Soka Education. The objectives of the SESRP are: to establish Soka Education as an acknowledged field of research; to develop a centralized source and venue for information and discussion on Soka Education, to build and maintain relationships with other institutions to promote Soka Education.” -SESRP
campus
What is Soka education? The sixth annual Soka Education Conference (SEC), held February 13 and 14th, provided a forum for students, faculty, alumni, and the community to collectively reach more profound understandings of Soka Education. The theme for the conference was “Education for Social Justice: Theory and Practice” and featured Dr. Jim Garrison, professor of philosophy of education at Virginia Tech University in Blacksburg, Virginia, as keynote speaker. Making steady progress toward establishing the SEC as a stalwart of Soka Education research, eight current SUA students and alumni presented strong essays investigating both theoretical foundations and practical applications of Soka education. Participation peaked during Dr. Garrison’s keynote when more than 250 participants crowded into Pauling Hall, room 216. In his keynote address, “Soka Education for Social Justice,” Dr. Garrison incorporated his thorough understanding of John Dewey’s philosophy and his equally thorough understanding of SUA Founder Daisaku Ikeda’s philosophy in an effective analysis of the importance of both individuality and community in the pursuit of social justice. In addition to his essay, Dr. Garrison’s energy and
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A Farewell Montage Study Abroad: Nanjing
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Andrew D`Ambruoso [2011] The city of Nanjing has a rich academic history: In premodern China, the Imperial examination was one of the most academically rigorous and taxing feats to undertake. Every year, tens of thousands of people would flock to the old capital (Nanjing) to take the exam. Of the most intelligent and highest-scoring 800 scholars in history who took this examination, over 50% were from the Nanjing region. …Or so proclaimed our noticeably patriotic and slightly vapid tour guide, who happened to be a Nanjing local. Because she was our tour guide and most likely had the People’s Liberation Army 24-hour hotline on speed dial, I decided against vocally challenging the veracity of her sources of information. I spent nine days in Taiwan before arriving in the mainland (i.e. I was in a completely different country before arriving in China). Stepping out of the plane and into the terminal at Nanjing Lukou Airport, I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. In a span of five minutes walking from the plane to the customs line, I witnessed a man light and smoke a cigarette directly under a “No Smoking” sign, a child almost kick in the bathroom stall door on my friend while she was using it, and two 60+ year-old Chinese women almost beat the crap out of each other over who came first in line. Contrary to my expectations, Nanjing is a legitimate city complete with buildings made of materials other than wood, people (7.4 million of them), running water, and vehicles that run on internal combustion engines. By my estimations, if current driving habits persist,
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approximately 97% of the population has a 1 in 3 chance of committing vehicular manslaughter within the next six months. Nanjing University is wonderfully convenient. We live and have class in the same building (hooray!) This means that when class begins at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m., I can simply roll out of bed and down to the second floor to endure class for four hours. A typical morning exchange between an entirely-too-peppy teacher and me (at 8 a.m.; translated for your convenience): Teacher: (loudly, quickly, and smiling from ear to ear) Andrew, please read this passage more quickly and pay more attention to your tones, can you do that? Me: (not loudly, not quickly, and most definitely not smiling) Not right now, I can’t. Teacher: Why not? Me: Because it’s eight o’clock in the morning, I haven’t had enough caffeine, and no human should be awake at this hour. As of now, I’ve provided you, my precious, indispensable reader, with a sort of montage of my studyabroad experience. But now I want to conclude on a much more serious, intimate note, and make your heart go all pitter-patter: I profoundly love and respect you, my friends across the Pacific. I will forever cherish the memories we share, memories that I could not rid myself of, even if I wanted to. But I ask you to bid farewell to the Andrew you once knew, because he’s not coming back. He will shed his skin, discover his true self, and return as someone you will not recognize. I guarantee it.
Photo by Andrew D’Ambruoso
“The American Cousin” Study Abroad: Kansai
Photo by Krystal Roush I am one of those students who study Japanese: I was born in Okinawa, Japan, and I lived there for 8 years. My mother is Okinawan.
Krystal Roush [2011] to one of my SUA senpai (upperclassman), he called me a liar. A liar? His comment disturbed me. It disturbed me because deep inside my soul, I knew that, in some ways, he was right. At the surface-level, I love Japan. The train system is incredible, the people are kind, and I can’t even begin to describe the glory that is the 100 yen shops. But every day, I am reminded of how American I am, how foreign I am, how not Japanese I am. I am always a little on edge at meals with my host family because I don’t want to be corrected repeatedly on improper chopstick usage. I get flustered at the store because I don’t know all the synonyms for “plastic bag.” I feel insecure when people look at me because I’m not sure whether it’s a regular person or a gaijin (foreigner) that they’re seeing. But what I fear most is what my Okinawan family thinks about me. Am I just “the American cousin,” or do I mean something more to them? I want to be something more, but how can I show them that I’m something more if they can’t understand me?
Through cell phone messages written in my embarrassing Japanese, I have been making arrangements with my Okinawan cousin to attend her graduation ceremony at Soka University. Several nights ago, my aunt called me to confirm those plans, and she told me something that has completely restored my sense of purpose here: “I’ve been nagging your cousin to practice her English so that you guys can have an easier time communicating, but she told me that she didn’t have to because your Japanese is good enough.” Until that moment, I have had doubts about studying Japanese. Was I really improving my proficiency? How dedicated was I to reconnect with my Japanese family? Maybe it was just a cop-out decision. The small satisfaction I received from my aunt’s comment, however, dissolved my doubts and renewed my determination to study Japanese, a determination which will sustain me throughout the rest of this study abroad.
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On paper, my decision to study Japanese does appear to be a cop-out, a strategy for an easy grade, and I don’t blame other students for assuming that about me. I had many reasons for choosing Japanese, but the most significant was that I wanted to be able to speak with my family. Yes, on paper, it would appear that I already speak Japanese. But in fact, I speak the worst kind of childish-Japanese and English mix. Coupled with the fact that my Okinawan family, including my mother, speaks little English, I have only ever been able to communicate shallow feelings to them. I want them to know the depth of my thoughts, and the only way to achieve that is to speak their language. So here I am now, studying Japanese in Kansai, Japan. The first month I was here, I experienced no significant culture shock. Having had previous experiences with the Japanese lifestyle, I easily assimilated to my new routine. Every time someone from the U.S. asked how I was doing, I told him or her that I was comfortable and happy. But when I told this same thing
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Apollo “I’m always inspired by images around me whether it’s the sight of my friends laughing or simply just an image in my head triggered by a fashionable stranger on the street or a scene from a movie.
os Ground I believe that photography compliments the spontaneous side of my personality and that only the shutter can keep up with my flow of creativity.�
Sometimes I feel like Einstein trying to come up with the most difficult question of all: How many kCals of energy does it take for me to get out of this inertia? February 5th, the one month anniversary of my arrival in Madrid, came and went on the New York Subway System calendar hanging in the otherwise Spanish kitchen on ‘planta 5 a la derrecha’. There are at least thirty boutique bars and “tapas” on my street alone, and the nights outside stoop 42 Calle Cava Baja welcome my new boots and checkered pea coat , along with the mix of sophisticated couples in their early 20s and their even more sophisticated married friends. Young social butterflies of Madrid strut their Corte Ingles heels on the same roads paved by the Crusaders in 1095 while I wonder how by living in the same town as the one where George Washington convened with his fellow revolutionaries in 1796, I fee like my New York kitchen has been installed in the middle of a history textbook. The world has expanded, history has extended itself, and with increasing knowledge of a vaster universe it can be difficult to stay grounded on sound foundation. Love (or something close) is showcased on cobblestones and metros through
shameless flirtations bordering on illegality. Any defenseless onlooker might mourn the death of singles, or at least find herself helpless to the foray of ghosts from romance past. However, while others search for match. com-commercial-worthy lovers, I can’t seem to escape the frantic search for, well, myself. This realization came as a surprise to me late one night when I dropped my keys. Out of breath after the one hundred-twenty stair climb (that’s right, there is no elevator), I bent down to grab my very silver and medieval looking key when in the space between my right knee and the wooden floor, it hit me that what I really needed to start looking for are parts of myself I thought were locked in place. You see, the axis of my heart has racked up quite a few mileage points, traveling from clothing-frenzy shopping sprees to boys to extracurricular activities. You can probably deduce that the wreckage of financial, emotional, and academic disasters made this particular accomplishment (that is, placing the center of my heart in the middle of my very own soul, instead of letting it float in limbo between me and... well who knows what) one for my personal books. What I’ve learned so far is that what I thought was a mountain may have only been a very steep hill.
My choice of self-prescribed antidote is to re-kindle my own Jane Austen tale of healthy confidence-building romance with the infinite self I faintly know is somewhere struggling to take flight. It’s like that Erin McCarley song, ‘Love save the empty’. Only my version may go something like, ‘Love help organize the haphazard foreigner”. So in this land of far, far away, besides the smaller everything, my nightly ritual of trying to beat the icy cold water in the shower, fighting to believe again despite the disgusting amount of homelessness in Madrid, and oh yeah, the fact that I don’t fully know Spanish yet, I guess my real discovery will come with some self-reflection and a little hard work. Maybe I came all the way across an ocean to meet the soul I was born with all along. Sometimes the battle has already begun and we just need to catch up. In reality, “ready or not” is for real. My advice from the abyss of this SUA study abroad requirement? Once we see the fragment of light in a night that waits for dawn, which is, that hope does exist and not every moment of a battle has to be seeped in Twilight-worthy torture, it’s worth taking the time to smile even if for just a fleeting instant.
Thoughts from the land of far, far away Study Abroad: Madrid
columns
Maya Ono [2011]
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Photo by Nico Hirayama Photo by Maya Ono
Taken from Encyclopedia Britannica
Fictional series of Short Stories on the complex subject of war.
Jean Marcus [2011]
Home was his spirit, my soul. But since last night’s series of eerie events, he had no clue where home was anymore. To know whether those events were correlated or not would take Herculean logic and quite frankly, would not interfere with his’s current state of mind. He was crushed. He entered his office, as usual, to find nothing there. Not a desk, pencil or any wall paper. As a matter of fact, he had trouble trying to find the building; it was completely changed from the previous day. He could only use an address to find it because the physical structure was nothing like what he’d seen in past experiences. It used to be a neat 4 story building in the downtown area. It had a nice paint job on the exterior, exalting elegant lines in a pale blue color. Now it was a plain hotel joint, like the ones they destroyed couple years ago, right on the corner. He entered the building against his own good knowledge. Back in his room, which he knew was his room as it had his name in the door, he faced a place where nothing could hold still. As he entered he felt the air vibrating around him and all the molecules of his body responded accordingly; his temperature rose at a spectacular speed. He could feel all his skin being “unglued” from his muscles and his face being deformed because of the heat. Aside from these vibrations, the room’s white color remained intact. He started having trouble seeing as the liquid in his eyeballs evaporated. He listened to the opening of the door right before his timpani burst into a high hiss. A fuzzy silhouette approached him and he fainted.
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All Victoria knew was war. In her world there were no defined or undefined articles because all that existed was war. Her language, culture and hopes all revolved around war. The word for future, past, time and space was war. It was a world without anything but war. She stood guard in the North Quadrant of the downtown region as the enemy from south had the night before. Bastards. Just when she thought she would have six hours of rest for first time in her life, they resolved do a stupid suicidal attack on the capital. The capital! She was assigned to that specific building because of her expertise: she never retreats. And this specific building contained
the most absurd mystery of all human kind: the office room of Eduardo Fleming. Whoever entered that room became a sack of skin and bones. It was not the mystery that made it important though; its functionality played a far more important part in a world at war. It was a legitimated death, a death orchestrated by war directly. Whoever owned Eduardo’s room (known as the Devil’s den to the enemy), had war authorization to kill anyone. They were not pulling the trigger; war just was. The dawn arrived with scarce sounds of heavy artillery several miles away. It was hard to know which side they were on because it did not matter. “If our boys do their job,” Victoria thought “I won’t have to do mine here. But I am ready if I have to.” She went by the window, with some care because of snipers, and looked toward the direction of the heavy sounds far South. She then looked at the sky. It was twenty years ago she last looked at it. It was a graciously blue sky, with very few grey clouds. Her mind could not understand why, but her entire body felt immense pain just in looking up. As she dwelled on her own injuries she failed to notice a fairly normal guy, in fact he was way to clean to be noticed, going toward the room. By the time she realized he was already turning the door knob. “You idiot! Get the hell out of there! You are not supposed to enter there!” But the man seemed to have failed to respond. Fuck. She ran as fast as she could while the idiot continued to venture inside the room. Half way there the door closed. She did not have much time. She reached the door, opened it carefully so as not to venture in the room herself, and saw the transformation beginning. It was enough. She pulled him from the room in seconds because his death was already sentenced, threw him away from the door and closed it shut. His bodily conditions seemed to be acquiring normal appearance. He was a man once more. He opened his eyes wide and in shock remained lying on the floor. She ran towards him, with her pistol pointing at his face: “Who the hell are you?” He pointed at the door, his arm and entire body shaking. “I, I am..Eduardo Fle..Fleming.”
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Madeline Brownfield [2010]
Photo by Nicole Hirayama
columns
I’m a senior. I write a senior column. I look ready to write, but I don’t know what to write for it. I worry that I shouldn’t write something while I’m in a state of confusion or turmoil and then publish it for SUA students to see. If I write while I’m not feeling so groovy, I am giving you my heart dissolved in messy tears. And to me, that is the most petrifying prospect. I tend to semi-consciously wrap my written ideas in words that might sound clever or look like bright colors of flowers on a painting, designs on tiles on a kitchen floor distracting you from the look on my face that might betray me. If I write about a problem, I still keep my tone buoyant; I make the resolution speedy and jovial. Of course, I do mean what I say and my positivity is not a lie. At moments like these, when I’m steeling myself to write, when I can feel fear physically pulsating in my throat and fingers, I wonder whether I have an obligation to expose that fear, or an obligation not to. I’m a senior, and this is my senior column. But I’ve been wearing it like someone else’s slippers, borrowed for walking through someone else’s house. Can I risk saying what makes me feel foolish and exposed? In my senior year, I used to walk around the campus before dusk, and on a clear day would watch the sky’s color change, watch the exclamatory tufts of flowering plants grow sharper and more detailed as the view
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Breakfast Music
above the horizon gestured in all directions at once to a beauty that had no time to clarify or make itself subtle. I took at least one of these walks with the aim of coming up with an idea for my column in the school news magazine. Fragmented possible themes flitted through my mind. But even as I was falling in love at each moment with the beauty of the scenery, I dismissed my desire to share it as a trite joke. My underclassmen and classmates define me as a senior; sometimes they define what we should discuss by those standards. Most conversations with students I don’t yet know very well now begin with a polite and direct, unavoidable inquiry into the status and specifics of my senior capstone thesis project. This question has become an opportunity to gauge my level of kindness and respect towards other human beings and my capacity to understand where they’re coming from (a place of curiosity and not a lack of consideration for my fragile sanity regarding that subject). I have to say that for the most part I have come out quite well. The question of what I will do after I graduate from this institution produces a much smaller jump in my blood pressure. I have recently found comfort in honestly responding, “I have no idea,” amended then by my plan to drink coffee with my sister and engage actively in the process of “figuring stuff out,” for which my degree in Liberal Arts and particularly my concentration in Humanities will have given me ample preparation and resources.
I have quiet moments in the mornings after I wake up when I think about this future. Alone in my room, sluggish feet and haphazard arms try to rouse themselves for responsibilities of the day. In these moments I think without meaning to of home, of smiles without studies, of breakfast music. But, I don’t want to use my precious home as an escape or a fantasy, because as the place and people that grew me and that continue to frame me even when I’m not physically there, they don’t deserve idle romanticism. So I try to try to think of the things here that make me want to get up in the morning. Besides the beautiful hues of the sky and oatmeal, those things are mostly people. Can you tell that I just blotted my heart with a tissue, that I put a poultice on its gouges? Maybe my narrative didn’t match up with itself, but for once I’m going to let that fly. This time the music I’m giving you is in several movements, snippets of songs I sing in the stairwell, and they might not connect according to a typical plotline, or rhetoric that we automatically follow, thinking that it’s what will inspire the listener at this school. This time I am honest, this time I want you to know that I am staring you in the face and reaching my hand out to lift your chin up, to look not at the designs on the tiles I made, but to let you look at my smile and my question.
Brazilian Wax Jean Marcus [2011]
Football
(not that weird American game) Football, which for you, Americans, for some bizarre reason, is called soccer*, is one of the greatest sources of joy and pain for us, Brazilians. Winning the desired FIFA World Cup Trophy does not attest to ability or Excellency in football, but a symbol of hope that the simple things in life are far more important than politics and the economy. In fact, every year our National team wins, the government is almost redeemed from all atrocities it might have committed. If people were to be charged a fee for winning the world cup, everyone would pay gladly, myself included. For all these reasons, I don’t like to watch football in America, be it on TV or at SUA’s fields. It is not that Americans don’t know how to play, which they don’t, but they consider football just a sports game. And that’s exactly what it is not! Football is a bodily, spiritual and collective art of the people. The world cup in Brazil is a trigger for an entirely new, provisory mindset of hope and a belief that everything can be possible. Currently, Brazilians have no faith in our National team whatsoever. We are still concerned with the small championships in the Brazilian States and between clubs. The World Cup is still a faraway reality. Our National team coach is also very inexperienced and not bold enough, and our star players prefer to get their millions in Europe. All those ideas will change, or vanish, in approximately three months. “Brazil has a chance of winning this year, despite all the problems.” This is what will be said on the streets, and in the ghettos and condominiums of my country. Telê Santana, one of the most acclaimed coaches of Brazil, was perhaps the one who knew better than anyone else the meaning of the football spirit. His way of thinking that the field is a place to explore
and perform the art of football, is now is known in the entire world, thanks to Adidas’ use of the slogan, “joga bonito,” in an advertising campaign few years ago. Although he was not the first one to play beautifully, as many have watched and heard games of Garrincha or Pelé, Telê was the first coach to adopt this motto for an entire team. Gladly, the first team he coached was my Fluminense in 1969. While the belief that the game was a place to transcend life and to perform art made Telê lose the quarter final to Italy, who won that year’s world cup, his team is, still now, considered the best team the world ever has watched. Some say that if they won they would have clouded away the shine of the 1970 team, but that was never Telê’s objective. He wanted to see his “kids” playing beautifully. I am not saying that winning, though, is a lesser or less honorable, objective. Winning is an exercise of the ego; a morale boost for the winners, and that’s not football’s objective. The objective of football is to enhance the spirit through the performance of a beautiful art; whether we are winners or losers. So, please, Coach Cano, if you read these words, embrace Telê’s spirit. Your players are artists, with the ball and soul, of the supreme art of football. Please let them enjoy the power of the field, when they touch the grass for the first time asking for a/the blessing to perform the best game of their lives. Please let them be free to enjoy their expressions of hope, strength; a joy that only “joga bonito” can offer. Please, Coach Cano, embrace my hope. A Soka player should be the bastion of the spirit of football. My soul urges for this kind of football, which I miss immensely. Let me watch the ball run freely on the field once more.
Photo by Charlie Kehrin
columns
* 1889, socca, later socker (1891), soccer (1895), originally university slang from a shortened form of Assoc., abbreviation of association in Football Association
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mission statement The Pearl strives to emulate slain Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl’s efforts to bring out the human side of every story. Following his courageous model, The Pearl opens channels of communication in an endeavor to articulately and respectfully express differing opinions. The contributors to The Pearl report on issues of concern for the campus, the local community and the globe, aiming to unify the campus toward the realization of the mission of Soka University of America.
pearl@soka.edu
Jihii Jolly finally found P!
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credits Jihii Jolly (Editor-in-Chief, Layout); Jean Marcus Silva (Public Relations Liaison, Layout, Spiritual Guide); Janice Lee , Nico Hirayama (Photography); Aaron Freedman, Madeline Browfield (Editing Team); Nicole Fleming, Desiree Foster (Contributing Staff); Chelsea Nakabayashi, Sara Nuss-Galles, Geoff Westropp (Advisors); Michael Strand (Alumni Armando (photoAdvisor); by Janice Lee) Dubon, Saeed Fakhriravari, Sam Morales, Derrick Springer, Geoff Westropp (Technical Support)