My first week of Japanese class at DeAnza is over. The DeAnza campus was designed by someone with the same sense of style, aesthetics, utility, and ease of use as CalTrans - i.e. the layout is fucking awful, the placement of things doesn't make a goddamned lick of sense, and signs are often actively misleading. The class itself seems fine; my assignment for the weekend is "learn hiragana." (Akasaka tuna! Ham-ya, raw! Ngh!) I've yet to see how mny handwriting will be graded, which fills me with some trepidation - I'm (still) emotionally scarred by the many days I had to spend after school in sixth grade with Ms Volk, trying to get my longhand up to an acceptable level. (As it turns out, my handwriting is noticably better after my ADD drugs have kicked in and haven't worn off for the day; lines are smoother, there's less jerkiness, etc.)
Oddly enough, after having started class, I'm suddenly recognizing Japanese sentences' internal structure when I hear it - e.g. "oh, that's a noun, that's an indirect object marker, I know that word means 'me'...." - which is a little weird, considering we haven't gotten to any grammar or morphology or anything - pretty much just pronounciation, the kana, and the numbers 1-100.
If I seem extra grumpy, it's because my body has decided that it's definitely fall, and that light will be going away. (Not that I see many of y'all anyway; grr, tyranny of distance.) I also need a shoulder massage something terrible.
Overall, things are going pretty well; now, if I could just get my sleep schedule straightened out....