I've had a heavy feeling in my stomach for awhile now. I feel as though I'm guilty of something even though I know there's not a real reason to feel that way. The more I think about it, the more I come to realize it's because I don't want to go home.
This is going to make me sound like a horrible person, and perhaps I am for even thinking this, but I don't really have a desire to return to the United States. I love my family, friends, boyfriend, coworkers, but I don't want to go back. I feel more at home in a place where I stand out easily in a crowd than I did in a place where I spoke the same accent, dialect, and played my part in the majority quite well. I'm sorry to those of you who are reading this. I'm hurting a lot of feelings and a lot of mixed emotions will probably come from this, but please understand I'm writing this as a way to come to terms with my own thoughts on two countries I love: the United States and Japan.
I know there are things that I can do in the United States that I will never be able to do in Japan. No matter how hard I try, no matter the visa or legal status I obtain, I will never be Japanese. I was not born in this country, and while this may sound quite racist or close-minded, I think that to some extent, I would have to look the part to be Japanese in this society even if I were a white woman born in this country. Even if I speak the language fluently, I will never truly "fit in" in Japanese society. I will never be able to erase the more American aspects of my personality. I will never truly understand what it's like to refrain from saying my opinion, I will never be able to completely work towards the group rather than an individual, and I will never fully be able to submit myself to a lower status than my male counterparts.
With all of these things said, I do not feel any differently about my desire to live in this country. Perhaps I'm one of the lucky exchange students, but Japan is home to me in a way that my hometown in Texas will never be. I know many of my friends cannot wait to return home to lands of cheese, cheap food, driving one's own car, and Mexican food. (I have to admit, the unavailability of Mexican food really takes it out of you sometimes.)
I do not regret living in my hometown or growing up in Texas. I think that it is a great place to raise children, especially if you live in a town in which the balance between open-minded and close-minded people are present. I'm glad that my town was relatively rural, but that I have had experiences (good and bad) with people who are stubborn and those who are willing to try new things. And I'm very thankful that my family, while stuck in their ways on some matters, encouraged me to try something different before making a judgement. Without their support, I don't think I could have ever experienced something so exciting, terrifying, and something utterly enchanting as my life in Japan.
Maybe I'm still young, and I'm not necessarily in love with the place where I grew up. I love the memories of my house in Texas, the moments playing with my cats and dogs outside, swimming in my pool in the summer, and enjoying the times, happy or sad, with my parents and relatives. These are things that I will treasure always.
I know I'm stepping on some feelings and I feel guilty for saying it, even though it's my own opinion, but I am in love with the country, culture, and people of Japan. i feel as though I should be crying over my family and hometown in Texas, but I feel like the land of the rising sun is calling my name.
Maybe my mind will change when the rainy weather clears up, the cockroaches invade my apartment, and I've had my fair share of final exams, but as for now, I am truly dreading the moment when I pull out my dusty suitcase from under my bed.
I can feel the tears well up in my eyes as I think of saying goodbyes, even though I know I will really be saying, "See you later!" and "We'll meet again sometime soon." I have made a great bunch of friends here, from all over the world, and it's really hard to imagine life without them. My departure from this country will be sometime in the near future.
I don't like it.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Dread and Flower Blossoms
I don't even know where to begin with this entry.
I feel like time is going by too quickly, and I'm dreading the last two months of my stay here. I will be leaving sometime around the end of August, and I'm horrified that it's already June.
While it will hurt many of those who are home, I don't want to go back to the States. More than almost anything, I want to stay here. I want to live here and flourish. I know that I can come back in the future, and if things go the way I plan, I can work in a middle school teaching English. My dreams are right under my fingertips. I'm teaching English at an English Conversation group, working at an English camp this summer, and even working with middle school students sometime soon. I've never been so proud of myself, and I don't remember ever being this happy to wake up and go to class.
I really don't want to leave this feeling behind. While I know people believe that happiness is something that is created by one's own will, I really think that happiness is easier for me to grasp outside of the states. I'm so much happier being myself here than I am in Texas. I think this is because I feel as though I found my place here.
It's weird getting used to being the minority, but aside from that, my personality seems very Japanese. My Japanese friends tease me about my eating habits, politeness, and often say something that roughly translates into, "Wow, you're so Japanese!"
I feel as though I'm searching for my identity all over again.
I've found myself staring outside more often than before. I enjoy the gentle breeze, walk without an umbrella in the soft, steady rain, and listen to the sound of buses passing by. I feel like this is the last time I'll get to hear these noises. An onigiri that I've eaten every day never tasted so delicious, and my house never seemed further from the school.
I feel like I belong here.
I feel like time is going by too quickly, and I'm dreading the last two months of my stay here. I will be leaving sometime around the end of August, and I'm horrified that it's already June.
While it will hurt many of those who are home, I don't want to go back to the States. More than almost anything, I want to stay here. I want to live here and flourish. I know that I can come back in the future, and if things go the way I plan, I can work in a middle school teaching English. My dreams are right under my fingertips. I'm teaching English at an English Conversation group, working at an English camp this summer, and even working with middle school students sometime soon. I've never been so proud of myself, and I don't remember ever being this happy to wake up and go to class.
I really don't want to leave this feeling behind. While I know people believe that happiness is something that is created by one's own will, I really think that happiness is easier for me to grasp outside of the states. I'm so much happier being myself here than I am in Texas. I think this is because I feel as though I found my place here.
It's weird getting used to being the minority, but aside from that, my personality seems very Japanese. My Japanese friends tease me about my eating habits, politeness, and often say something that roughly translates into, "Wow, you're so Japanese!"
I feel as though I'm searching for my identity all over again.
I've found myself staring outside more often than before. I enjoy the gentle breeze, walk without an umbrella in the soft, steady rain, and listen to the sound of buses passing by. I feel like this is the last time I'll get to hear these noises. An onigiri that I've eaten every day never tasted so delicious, and my house never seemed further from the school.
I feel like I belong here.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
It's hard to believe that it's already May. The cherry blossoms have bloomed and fallen. My second semester at Ritsumeikan University has begun, and it's weird to think that I'm only in Japan for another three months.
There's so much left to do. I feel like I've wasted a lot of time.
This semester, I'm putting my studies first. I'm extending my Japanese practice outside of the classroom. I try to watch an episode of a Japanese drama every day, write a journal in Japanese, and use Japanese only when speaking to my Japanese friends. I'm taking three culture classes, all of which are in Japanese, and am limiting time I spend with my friends who speak English. (If you're reading this, and you're one of my English speaking friends: This does not mean you're not as important as my studies, but I feel it's a priority to use Japanese while in Japan.)
Similar to my first few months of school, this semester began with me being sick. I've been fighting a stomach bug of some sort for the past two weeks. I'm not sure how I got it, as I haven't eaten anything strange lately, and I am usually pretty cautious around people who are sick. I missed two days of class within the first month of school, and I feel terrible about it. Anyway, I am fighting this illness in the best way that I can: Relaxing and taking it easy when and where possible, and fighting the rest of the way.
My patience has been wearing thin with a lot of people lately. I'm not sure exactly where it comes from, but I am learning to do things my way. I think somewhere inside me, I finally understand that I do not have to be friends with everyone, I do not have to talk to everyone who rubs me the wrong way, and most of all, that it's alright to stand up for myself.
I will say this again: I will not answer questions that can be answered by modern-day internet search engines. In a past entry, I listed tools that can be helpful when reading my statuses on facebook (if you are a friend) or reader. I will use Japanese terms when I feel the English doesn't work correctly, and I will not be explaining them. I don't mind answering questions about culture when I feel that I have enough knowledge, or experience, to answer. I understand it is a pet peeve I will have to deal with, but things like Japanese holidays, sweet names, etc. can all be looked up on google relatively quickly. However, in this day and age, I feel that it is so easy to find information that it's necessary to try finding it yourself before asking someone for direct answers. Everyone may not see it this way, and I understand.
BUT if you post a question that can be answered by a simple google search, I will not respond. (This is mainly to my friends on facebook, and yes, it is a bit passive-aggressive.)
Had to get that out of my system.
Anyway, back to normal journal writing. (These things are so unorganized.)
It's hard to believe that I will be back in Texas sometime in the next few months. I get weird feelings of deja-vu, more like a reverse deja-vu, lately. It's as though I realize that I'm really in Japan. It's strange to me because I've gotten so used to life here. I've gotten used to being a foreigner in a world of people who aren't like me. I've become accustomed to the rules of everyday life, and I feel quite welcome and at home here. It's going to be a huge shock when I get back. I feel like I'll be annoyed with everyone and disappointed with everything. I wish I could stay here until mid September, but there's absolutely no way to do that with my school.
Ideally, I could miss the Fall 2012 semester at my home university, work part-time for a semester before returning to school, and then work from the spring to the fall. However, this is something I will have to figure out soon, so I can prepare myself for either decision.
There's so much left to do. I feel like I've wasted a lot of time.
This semester, I'm putting my studies first. I'm extending my Japanese practice outside of the classroom. I try to watch an episode of a Japanese drama every day, write a journal in Japanese, and use Japanese only when speaking to my Japanese friends. I'm taking three culture classes, all of which are in Japanese, and am limiting time I spend with my friends who speak English. (If you're reading this, and you're one of my English speaking friends: This does not mean you're not as important as my studies, but I feel it's a priority to use Japanese while in Japan.)
Similar to my first few months of school, this semester began with me being sick. I've been fighting a stomach bug of some sort for the past two weeks. I'm not sure how I got it, as I haven't eaten anything strange lately, and I am usually pretty cautious around people who are sick. I missed two days of class within the first month of school, and I feel terrible about it. Anyway, I am fighting this illness in the best way that I can: Relaxing and taking it easy when and where possible, and fighting the rest of the way.
My patience has been wearing thin with a lot of people lately. I'm not sure exactly where it comes from, but I am learning to do things my way. I think somewhere inside me, I finally understand that I do not have to be friends with everyone, I do not have to talk to everyone who rubs me the wrong way, and most of all, that it's alright to stand up for myself.
I will say this again: I will not answer questions that can be answered by modern-day internet search engines. In a past entry, I listed tools that can be helpful when reading my statuses on facebook (if you are a friend) or reader. I will use Japanese terms when I feel the English doesn't work correctly, and I will not be explaining them. I don't mind answering questions about culture when I feel that I have enough knowledge, or experience, to answer. I understand it is a pet peeve I will have to deal with, but things like Japanese holidays, sweet names, etc. can all be looked up on google relatively quickly. However, in this day and age, I feel that it is so easy to find information that it's necessary to try finding it yourself before asking someone for direct answers. Everyone may not see it this way, and I understand.
BUT if you post a question that can be answered by a simple google search, I will not respond. (This is mainly to my friends on facebook, and yes, it is a bit passive-aggressive.)
Had to get that out of my system.
Anyway, back to normal journal writing. (These things are so unorganized.)
It's hard to believe that I will be back in Texas sometime in the next few months. I get weird feelings of deja-vu, more like a reverse deja-vu, lately. It's as though I realize that I'm really in Japan. It's strange to me because I've gotten so used to life here. I've gotten used to being a foreigner in a world of people who aren't like me. I've become accustomed to the rules of everyday life, and I feel quite welcome and at home here. It's going to be a huge shock when I get back. I feel like I'll be annoyed with everyone and disappointed with everything. I wish I could stay here until mid September, but there's absolutely no way to do that with my school.
Ideally, I could miss the Fall 2012 semester at my home university, work part-time for a semester before returning to school, and then work from the spring to the fall. However, this is something I will have to figure out soon, so I can prepare myself for either decision.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Back-and-Forths and Fleeting Time
It's official, I guess: I really can't keep up with a blog, can I? My apologies to those at home.
The past month has been eventful in some ways, and less eventful in others. I went to Tokyo for the first time since September, traveled to Nagoya to run a marathon, and fought a nasty bought of depression. Now it's exactly a week before I go back to school for orientation, which includes a placement exam, and then it's on to the last semester of school in Japan.
I'm sorry I don't write about all of the details about each excursion, but to me, my trip here is more than that. I feel if I tell all of the details about what I see on a day-to-day basis, the magic of the country is lost. Perhaps this just means my writing can't do it justice, and it also is a nicely put way of saying that I'm lazy. In any case, let me get back to writing while I still feel self-motivated.
Spring break wasn't very eventful for me. Looking back at it, I think I wasted a lot of time by not doing anything. I didn't want to do anything, really. Unlike most of the people I know, I don't have any desire to sight-see. Traveling is fun, but hard to do without a plan, and friends who share the same interest. Most of my Japanese friends were traveling, working, or job-searching, so it was more convenient to sit at home and do nothing. Thinking back, I should have put this effort into studying, watching Japanese television dramas, anime, or whatnot. Honestly, I've just been blah for the past while.
I wanted to go back home for a bit during Spring Break to see my boyfriend's art show, visit my family, and just figure out exactly why I'm in Japan all over again. I guess I'm just not strong mentally; the last month has been full of bitter, lonely feelings. And I'm disappointed in myself for wasting so much time, angry that I wasn't physically strong enough to finish a full marathon, and a bit jealous of those around me. Every day I realize that my kanji writing skills aren't where I want them to be, my vocabulary is lacking, and I'm still struggling over things on a day to day basis.
I guess it's just one of the downs of being in a country that you love.
One of my friends told me recently, "It's not always easy doing the things you love. There will be some hard times, some good times, and a lot of things in between."
Maybe I'm just too hard on myself. I have a feeling that some of my friends would be telling me, "You needed this break. You needed to sleep, eat, and just be lazy." or something like, "Macy, you push yourself ALL the time. Just relax." Even still, this inkling doesn't keep me from feeling so weak, or feeling that my pace isn't good enough for just a fast paced society.
I think school will be good for me. It'll put me on a regular schedule, and I'll have less time to wallow in my thoughts. I'm looking forward to using my Japanese on a regular basis, make new friends, and study.
I've always taken myself for granted, I think. In Texas, I came from a small-town school where most of the people I met told me I was smart and gifted. I was told that I learn quickly, adapt to new situations well, and that I'm a bright kid. Getting out in the big world has shown me something different though. I've never felt so stupid, unprepared, and out of place. Even still, I feel that I've become used to a land that is so foreign to the place I came from. This rift exists, but it's as if I'm on neither side. It's as if I am used to the environment without being fluent in the language.
Again, I can hear my boyfriend saying, "Just do it. Just be fluent."
Maybe I should just stop writing, and work hard from tomorrow. I have a week to learn right?
The past month has been eventful in some ways, and less eventful in others. I went to Tokyo for the first time since September, traveled to Nagoya to run a marathon, and fought a nasty bought of depression. Now it's exactly a week before I go back to school for orientation, which includes a placement exam, and then it's on to the last semester of school in Japan.
I'm sorry I don't write about all of the details about each excursion, but to me, my trip here is more than that. I feel if I tell all of the details about what I see on a day-to-day basis, the magic of the country is lost. Perhaps this just means my writing can't do it justice, and it also is a nicely put way of saying that I'm lazy. In any case, let me get back to writing while I still feel self-motivated.
Spring break wasn't very eventful for me. Looking back at it, I think I wasted a lot of time by not doing anything. I didn't want to do anything, really. Unlike most of the people I know, I don't have any desire to sight-see. Traveling is fun, but hard to do without a plan, and friends who share the same interest. Most of my Japanese friends were traveling, working, or job-searching, so it was more convenient to sit at home and do nothing. Thinking back, I should have put this effort into studying, watching Japanese television dramas, anime, or whatnot. Honestly, I've just been blah for the past while.
I wanted to go back home for a bit during Spring Break to see my boyfriend's art show, visit my family, and just figure out exactly why I'm in Japan all over again. I guess I'm just not strong mentally; the last month has been full of bitter, lonely feelings. And I'm disappointed in myself for wasting so much time, angry that I wasn't physically strong enough to finish a full marathon, and a bit jealous of those around me. Every day I realize that my kanji writing skills aren't where I want them to be, my vocabulary is lacking, and I'm still struggling over things on a day to day basis.
I guess it's just one of the downs of being in a country that you love.
One of my friends told me recently, "It's not always easy doing the things you love. There will be some hard times, some good times, and a lot of things in between."
Maybe I'm just too hard on myself. I have a feeling that some of my friends would be telling me, "You needed this break. You needed to sleep, eat, and just be lazy." or something like, "Macy, you push yourself ALL the time. Just relax." Even still, this inkling doesn't keep me from feeling so weak, or feeling that my pace isn't good enough for just a fast paced society.
I think school will be good for me. It'll put me on a regular schedule, and I'll have less time to wallow in my thoughts. I'm looking forward to using my Japanese on a regular basis, make new friends, and study.
I've always taken myself for granted, I think. In Texas, I came from a small-town school where most of the people I met told me I was smart and gifted. I was told that I learn quickly, adapt to new situations well, and that I'm a bright kid. Getting out in the big world has shown me something different though. I've never felt so stupid, unprepared, and out of place. Even still, I feel that I've become used to a land that is so foreign to the place I came from. This rift exists, but it's as if I'm on neither side. It's as if I am used to the environment without being fluent in the language.
Again, I can hear my boyfriend saying, "Just do it. Just be fluent."
Maybe I should just stop writing, and work hard from tomorrow. I have a week to learn right?
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Home and the Meaning of Cross-Cultural Boundaries
I thought I was going to write a little over a week ago, when two of my friends, Sandra and Cornelius, left Kyoto. Each of them were on their respective journey, Sandra on her way home, and the Captain on his way to Tokyo with his girlfriend before returning to Germany. I felt an immediate and sudden emptiness and sadness as soon as we said goodbye to each other on dark sidewalks. Cornelius took a left at a four-way, walking over ma bridge and out of my life until sometime in my future. Sandra walked home with me, but parted ways at a small alley near my house. I know I won't see either of them for a very long time. I plan to meet them in Germany sometime in the future, but that doesn't necessarily fix the problem of wanting to hang out with them now.
I thought I had overcome my homesickness, but how quickly things are changing in Japan and back home has thrown me out of the loop once again. Soon, my boyfriend will be having his Masters of Fine Arts art exhibition, and I won't be there to see it. I try to smile and say that it doesn't bother me, but even though I'm happy to be in Japan and explore, I really wish that I could stand beside him and support him in person. I want to dress up and stand by his side as he walks into the gallery, and just converse with his friends and contemplate what exactly mixtures of blue and pink mean. Is there a feeling connected with purple? A sound? What about a smell?
Baylie Brown, a girl I knew throughout school, but never really conversed with often, is (at this point anyway) in the top 24 on American Idol. I'm very proud of her for getting this far, and even though I never really care about these things, I think it's neat that she's representing my hometown of Krum, Texas. I've been watching her performances on youtube, and I found a video of her touring Krum. I feel a bit embarrassed saying it, but I cried when I saw the four-way stop, my high school, and other small landmarks that only mean something if you come from such a small town.
I love Japan. I'm really happy to stay here, but I guess it really takes being displaced so much to understand exactly what a hometown means to you.
The weather is changing here. It's getting warmer. I think it will be Spring sometime soon. Then the cherry blossoms will bloom.
Even though I'm happy to be in Japan, I'll be really happy to eat Mexican food with my family again when I return home. I think I feel that Japan could be my home. I love the people, the atmosphere, and how things work on a daily basis. But I guess I'm starting to realize that home isn't where you feel comfortable, necessarily, but sometimes it has a lot to do with the people who help you get where you are now.
Anyway, I'm going to stop being whiny and go lie down, take a nap, and cuddle my new plush toys.
If you're interested in supporting my boyfriend and his art show, here's a link that has the information:
http://glasstire.com/events/2012/02/23/clyde-shuhei-igarashi-paralyzed-paradise/
I thought I had overcome my homesickness, but how quickly things are changing in Japan and back home has thrown me out of the loop once again. Soon, my boyfriend will be having his Masters of Fine Arts art exhibition, and I won't be there to see it. I try to smile and say that it doesn't bother me, but even though I'm happy to be in Japan and explore, I really wish that I could stand beside him and support him in person. I want to dress up and stand by his side as he walks into the gallery, and just converse with his friends and contemplate what exactly mixtures of blue and pink mean. Is there a feeling connected with purple? A sound? What about a smell?
Baylie Brown, a girl I knew throughout school, but never really conversed with often, is (at this point anyway) in the top 24 on American Idol. I'm very proud of her for getting this far, and even though I never really care about these things, I think it's neat that she's representing my hometown of Krum, Texas. I've been watching her performances on youtube, and I found a video of her touring Krum. I feel a bit embarrassed saying it, but I cried when I saw the four-way stop, my high school, and other small landmarks that only mean something if you come from such a small town.
I love Japan. I'm really happy to stay here, but I guess it really takes being displaced so much to understand exactly what a hometown means to you.
The weather is changing here. It's getting warmer. I think it will be Spring sometime soon. Then the cherry blossoms will bloom.
Even though I'm happy to be in Japan, I'll be really happy to eat Mexican food with my family again when I return home. I think I feel that Japan could be my home. I love the people, the atmosphere, and how things work on a daily basis. But I guess I'm starting to realize that home isn't where you feel comfortable, necessarily, but sometimes it has a lot to do with the people who help you get where you are now.
Anyway, I'm going to stop being whiny and go lie down, take a nap, and cuddle my new plush toys.
If you're interested in supporting my boyfriend and his art show, here's a link that has the information:
http://glasstire.com/events/2012/02/23/clyde-shuhei-igarashi-paralyzed-paradise/
Friday, February 3, 2012
Changing Perspectives
I'm not exactly sure what this blog has turned into. I say this in a good way. While I'm not updating daily, and I'm not writing every single thing I do each day, I think this blog has captured my study abroad experience better than I could have expected. I feel as though it encapsulates the developments in my character, personality, and my overall growth as a human being. Growth, however, never comes easy.
Lately I've found myself pondering, "What exactly do I want to do with my life once I return home?" I'm homesick, but I dread the thought of going back into my major back home. I don't think I necessarily have what it takes to continue as an English literature major. I've always had a love-hate relationship with writing, but I think it's more a masochistic pleasure than anything else. I know better than to compare myself to authors of classics, but as a writer, I really hate how English is taught, and how students are encouraged to analyze readings to death. I think it's fantastic that teachers try to get students to question information rather than take it in readily, but is it really necessary to analyze all the time. Anyway, time to get back on topic.
I feel like I've been beating myself up lately because I don't know what I want to do with my life. I'm only 20 years old, sure, that's fine. But I'm also only two semesters away from graduation. If I change majors now, it means I've wasted time and money chasing something that is useless. Do I stay with a major in English Literature for the rest of my term in school, or do I drop where I am now and pursue something like Anthropology or Social Linguistics?
I never realized how lonely it could be inside your own head.
I think I'm very fortunate in the fact that I haven't been struck by massive waves of homesickness like many of my friends, but it's times like this when I miss talking to my family, boyfriend, and best friends back home. Then again, I don't want to be known as the girl that only talks to the people back home when there's a problem. I need to learn to listen too.
When I was drawing to relax earlier, I remembered a conversation with my Mom I had when I was little. At that time, I suddenly realized that I wasn't the only person seeing the world. I realized that the way my eyes see the world is individual in itself. Isn't it amazing that so many people are seeing the world in so many different ways at once?
I mention this because I've been hearing so many things from all of my friends and family. Part of me wants to relax, but I know I shouldn't waste my time. I need to stop speaking English. I need to hang out with my Japanese friends. I should be keeping a blog in Japanese, not English. I should be focusing on the correct words to use instead of being vague. It's overwhelming to me.
Did I come here with the goal of becoming fluent?
It's been so long since I've actually thought about why I've come here. I see kids staying in their room and studying their asses off, and I see kids that party and enjoy a social life. Living in between is difficult. I wonder if I'm somewhere in the grey? I think I give myself too much credit if I say that's where I lie. I think I've been off the scale in my own world here.
I've gotten too caught up in the way words sound when people say them and the meaning in the words. But this is why I hate my English major, and why I want to study Linguistics. What I hate is what I love, and my thoughts spiral into this annoying paradox.
And at the beginning of this cycle is the self-evaluation.
What do I like about myself? I'm passionate, creative, and adapt well to new environments. What do I dislike? I'm pessimistic, stubborn, quick-tempered, and unable to finish things through. I have to realize that it's okay to be hard on myself. It's okay to relax. It's alright to enjoy your time in a foreign country and work when it's time for school.
Then the other side of me says, "Go talk to more people in Japanese!"
What I want to study is useless for becoming fluent. The relationships between culture and words is no use if I'm unable to communicate fluently and effectively in the language I'm studying, right?
I'm not even able to do this in English.
Do i listen to everyone pressuring me to become fluent? How do I enjoy myself if I'm studying all the time and trying to be the best in my class? Is that the same thing as being fluent? I'm not sure, but that's what I've always associated. I'm not a language prodigy, and I never have been.
I guess I should learn to laugh at myself and accept the fact that I don't excel at everything.
I'm one of those people that's just average at doing everything. Someone who does nothing well as well as someone who does nothing terribly.
This is the time when I see myself later in life as a freelance writer who smokes and drinks boxed wine.
A small voice in my head smiles and says, "You're the only person who's good at being you." Yeah, that's true.
I have to learn to accept me before I can ever succeed in anything I want to do. So I'm back to the beginning of the board game. Whoever is rolling the dice, please be kind to me. I'm not as strong as you'd think.
Lately I've found myself pondering, "What exactly do I want to do with my life once I return home?" I'm homesick, but I dread the thought of going back into my major back home. I don't think I necessarily have what it takes to continue as an English literature major. I've always had a love-hate relationship with writing, but I think it's more a masochistic pleasure than anything else. I know better than to compare myself to authors of classics, but as a writer, I really hate how English is taught, and how students are encouraged to analyze readings to death. I think it's fantastic that teachers try to get students to question information rather than take it in readily, but is it really necessary to analyze all the time. Anyway, time to get back on topic.
I feel like I've been beating myself up lately because I don't know what I want to do with my life. I'm only 20 years old, sure, that's fine. But I'm also only two semesters away from graduation. If I change majors now, it means I've wasted time and money chasing something that is useless. Do I stay with a major in English Literature for the rest of my term in school, or do I drop where I am now and pursue something like Anthropology or Social Linguistics?
I never realized how lonely it could be inside your own head.
I think I'm very fortunate in the fact that I haven't been struck by massive waves of homesickness like many of my friends, but it's times like this when I miss talking to my family, boyfriend, and best friends back home. Then again, I don't want to be known as the girl that only talks to the people back home when there's a problem. I need to learn to listen too.
When I was drawing to relax earlier, I remembered a conversation with my Mom I had when I was little. At that time, I suddenly realized that I wasn't the only person seeing the world. I realized that the way my eyes see the world is individual in itself. Isn't it amazing that so many people are seeing the world in so many different ways at once?
I mention this because I've been hearing so many things from all of my friends and family. Part of me wants to relax, but I know I shouldn't waste my time. I need to stop speaking English. I need to hang out with my Japanese friends. I should be keeping a blog in Japanese, not English. I should be focusing on the correct words to use instead of being vague. It's overwhelming to me.
Did I come here with the goal of becoming fluent?
It's been so long since I've actually thought about why I've come here. I see kids staying in their room and studying their asses off, and I see kids that party and enjoy a social life. Living in between is difficult. I wonder if I'm somewhere in the grey? I think I give myself too much credit if I say that's where I lie. I think I've been off the scale in my own world here.
I've gotten too caught up in the way words sound when people say them and the meaning in the words. But this is why I hate my English major, and why I want to study Linguistics. What I hate is what I love, and my thoughts spiral into this annoying paradox.
And at the beginning of this cycle is the self-evaluation.
What do I like about myself? I'm passionate, creative, and adapt well to new environments. What do I dislike? I'm pessimistic, stubborn, quick-tempered, and unable to finish things through. I have to realize that it's okay to be hard on myself. It's okay to relax. It's alright to enjoy your time in a foreign country and work when it's time for school.
Then the other side of me says, "Go talk to more people in Japanese!"
What I want to study is useless for becoming fluent. The relationships between culture and words is no use if I'm unable to communicate fluently and effectively in the language I'm studying, right?
I'm not even able to do this in English.
Do i listen to everyone pressuring me to become fluent? How do I enjoy myself if I'm studying all the time and trying to be the best in my class? Is that the same thing as being fluent? I'm not sure, but that's what I've always associated. I'm not a language prodigy, and I never have been.
I guess I should learn to laugh at myself and accept the fact that I don't excel at everything.
I'm one of those people that's just average at doing everything. Someone who does nothing well as well as someone who does nothing terribly.
This is the time when I see myself later in life as a freelance writer who smokes and drinks boxed wine.
A small voice in my head smiles and says, "You're the only person who's good at being you." Yeah, that's true.
I have to learn to accept me before I can ever succeed in anything I want to do. So I'm back to the beginning of the board game. Whoever is rolling the dice, please be kind to me. I'm not as strong as you'd think.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Heartbeats and the Sound of Taiko
I really should change the description of this blog. It's definitely not a daily thing, is it?
A while back I was going to write about the death of one of the exchange students. Around January 20th, one of the SKP exchange students, Alex, passed away. The exact cause of her death is unknown, but it was very sudden. While I was not close friends with her, I enjoyed her presence every time I spoke with her. I laughed with her, and even told her I would show her around Austin when she traveled to Texas. While I want to cry while remembering her, I know that she would laugh and tell me to smile. Instead of crying, I'd like to remember her as the girl I always saw smiling. She laughed life away and enjoyed herself.
We all miss you, Alex. And while it's sad that you're not with us in person, we'll carry your spirit with us as we continue our journey in Japan.
Alex's death made me ponder my own lifestyle in Japan. I feel as though I don't appreciate my time here like I should. What if I were to pass away tomorrow? What if I were to disappear today? Would my life have meaning?
Better yet, what parts of my life would be memorable?
I've decided to do a few things differently for the next semester. I feel as though my life has always been something that I can improve. I am never satisfied with anything I do, and this is especially true with school. I want to learn to accept the things I can't change. And this means accepting myself first, the good and the bad.
I want to do my best in Japanese. But instead of just hating my time here and locking myself in my room to study, I'm going to talk to more Japanese people. I'm going to make time for the friends I have made and learn to do things on my own. I'm not going to rely on the friends I have or wait for them to do something I want to do. If I want to go shopping, I'm going to. I can do it on my own.
For this, I'm going to tell myself that doing things I enjoy is not necessarily something that is selfish. It's not selfish for me to do things on my own or enjoy time by myself. I'm going to explore things I enjoy and not waste my time doing something that i hate or dislike. Sure, the things you dislike make you stronger sometimes, but this doesn't mean you have to torture yourself. You don't have to be the strongest, most beautiful, talented, or even the smartest person in the world. If I'm not me, then who else will be me?
I never realized how important music was to me. Well, I can't limit the importance to music, but sound. I'm terrified of losing my hearing. My left ear is the weaker of my ears, and I'm scared of losing hearing in that ear permanently. I want to enjoy sound while it's still possible. I'm not going to try to act cool anymore. I enjoy the crappy music of Korean boy bands and I love the distraught chords within metal and rock. No one has to agree with what I like or dislike. It's my choice. If you respect my choices, I'll respect yours as well.
We don't have to agree with the same things. We all just need to respect each other.
In order to respect each other, we need to know ourselves.
I struggle with loving myself every day in Japan. I don't say this to fish responses of pity or empathy. I'm writing it because I feel like I need to say it. I don't like myself on a daily basis. I love myself on a temporary basis. I don't know who I am, but I know what parts of me I dislike, and I want to work on those.
A goal for the new year is to devote myself to something. While I want to do Aikido, I don't feel it's right for me to pursue that while I'm in Japan. I want to pursue music while I'm here. I want to dedicate myself to Taiko. I want to experience the physical release of stress and self-hate. I want to find my spirit in the sound of drums as the sun rises.
I miss dedicating myself to something.
A while back I was going to write about the death of one of the exchange students. Around January 20th, one of the SKP exchange students, Alex, passed away. The exact cause of her death is unknown, but it was very sudden. While I was not close friends with her, I enjoyed her presence every time I spoke with her. I laughed with her, and even told her I would show her around Austin when she traveled to Texas. While I want to cry while remembering her, I know that she would laugh and tell me to smile. Instead of crying, I'd like to remember her as the girl I always saw smiling. She laughed life away and enjoyed herself.
We all miss you, Alex. And while it's sad that you're not with us in person, we'll carry your spirit with us as we continue our journey in Japan.
Alex's death made me ponder my own lifestyle in Japan. I feel as though I don't appreciate my time here like I should. What if I were to pass away tomorrow? What if I were to disappear today? Would my life have meaning?
Better yet, what parts of my life would be memorable?
I've decided to do a few things differently for the next semester. I feel as though my life has always been something that I can improve. I am never satisfied with anything I do, and this is especially true with school. I want to learn to accept the things I can't change. And this means accepting myself first, the good and the bad.
I want to do my best in Japanese. But instead of just hating my time here and locking myself in my room to study, I'm going to talk to more Japanese people. I'm going to make time for the friends I have made and learn to do things on my own. I'm not going to rely on the friends I have or wait for them to do something I want to do. If I want to go shopping, I'm going to. I can do it on my own.
For this, I'm going to tell myself that doing things I enjoy is not necessarily something that is selfish. It's not selfish for me to do things on my own or enjoy time by myself. I'm going to explore things I enjoy and not waste my time doing something that i hate or dislike. Sure, the things you dislike make you stronger sometimes, but this doesn't mean you have to torture yourself. You don't have to be the strongest, most beautiful, talented, or even the smartest person in the world. If I'm not me, then who else will be me?
I never realized how important music was to me. Well, I can't limit the importance to music, but sound. I'm terrified of losing my hearing. My left ear is the weaker of my ears, and I'm scared of losing hearing in that ear permanently. I want to enjoy sound while it's still possible. I'm not going to try to act cool anymore. I enjoy the crappy music of Korean boy bands and I love the distraught chords within metal and rock. No one has to agree with what I like or dislike. It's my choice. If you respect my choices, I'll respect yours as well.
We don't have to agree with the same things. We all just need to respect each other.
In order to respect each other, we need to know ourselves.
I struggle with loving myself every day in Japan. I don't say this to fish responses of pity or empathy. I'm writing it because I feel like I need to say it. I don't like myself on a daily basis. I love myself on a temporary basis. I don't know who I am, but I know what parts of me I dislike, and I want to work on those.
A goal for the new year is to devote myself to something. While I want to do Aikido, I don't feel it's right for me to pursue that while I'm in Japan. I want to pursue music while I'm here. I want to dedicate myself to Taiko. I want to experience the physical release of stress and self-hate. I want to find my spirit in the sound of drums as the sun rises.
I miss dedicating myself to something.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Happy Holidays
I'm not sure whether or not any of you celebrate Christmas, but I thought I'd take a moment before clearing off my bed and sleeping to talk about something that happened to me.
It was a busy Christmas Eve. I spent most of the day editing one of my friend's fanfictions she had written about Final Fantasy VI. I hadn't done any editing work before, but my friend insisted on treating me to lunch at a local coffee shop while I helped make her story more like one written in native English. This work wasn't difficult or boring in the least, in fact, I rather enjoy creative writing, but it took a little longer than expected to edit fourteen pages. I won't go into detail about any of that, though. We each said our thank yous and goodbyes, and went our own way.
I also received a Christmas package from my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and grandparents. I received multiple sets of warm clothes--hoodies, jammie pants, tights, socks, and thermal wear--some food from home, a cute snowman blanket, and some movies I wanted to see, but hadn't had time to watch. I am very thankful for these things. It's very cold in Kyoto, and I hadn't had the time or financial means to buy clothes for the upcoming winter weather. I feel that these gifts were perfect for this year, and that I didn't need anything extravagant. It's humbling, and I like it.
However, after going to Laura's house to celebrate Christmas Eve, she and Cornelius walked me back to my apartment. We had all eaten quite a lot, and we wanted fresh air. Laura carried my new snowman blanket as a bundle in one arm and suddenly, a woman--whom we've never met--wearing a Santa hat asked us in Japanese, "Is that a baby?" We kept walking, not knowing she was talking to us, as she had been talking to a man moments before, but she continued, "Is that a baby?" Finally, she ran to us and gently took Laura's hand, "Oh! I thought that was a baby!" The woman sounded relieved. (All of this is in Japanese, by the way.) Laura laughed and said, "No, no! It's a blanket! Just a blanket!" All three of us laughed and the woman smiled. "Oh! I really thought it was a baby! Oh! Silly me!" She took the blanket and rocked it and kissed it. I'm sure all three of us were thinking she was just a drunk, silly woman, but she gave the blanket back to Laura, then did something unexpected. She gave each of us a sincere hug and said, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" We hugged her back and laughed, saying the same greeting to her. She walked us to the intersection and told us to enjoy ourselves. We went our separate ways, and laughed about the experience on the way to my apartment building.
Yet, for some reason, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic at this. I looked at my computer clock, and the time read 12:05 a.m., which would put the meeting with this woman at exactly midnight on Christmas Day. I'm not sure if I'll ever see that woman again, or if I had even seen her before tonight, but I feel like meeting her was not chance. I feel as though I were four years old, sitting with my brother in our dining room looking at the gifts Santa had brought us with wonder, not knowing how fortunate we were. I realized how selfish I had been many Christmases before, never taking the time to try and understand the importance of family and a brief encounter with a friend. To me, this woman was Santa Claus, and our meeting will stick with my thoughts forever.
I think this Christmas, although it has nearly twenty-four more hours to fill, will stick with me because it is not the usual. It's imperfect.
Even if I'm not meeting my own goals in exactly the same way I'd like to, I feel as though I'm learning so much from my stay in Japan. I'm seeing a side of humanity that I never thought existed, or perhaps, it was just a side I had given up on somewhere down the line. If I were to see that woman again, I would look her in the eyes and say thank you with all of my heart. And I hope that someone, somewhere, and someday can repay her the kindness she gave me on this cold night in December in a land very far from home.
I'm sure she would laugh and smile saying, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."
It was a busy Christmas Eve. I spent most of the day editing one of my friend's fanfictions she had written about Final Fantasy VI. I hadn't done any editing work before, but my friend insisted on treating me to lunch at a local coffee shop while I helped make her story more like one written in native English. This work wasn't difficult or boring in the least, in fact, I rather enjoy creative writing, but it took a little longer than expected to edit fourteen pages. I won't go into detail about any of that, though. We each said our thank yous and goodbyes, and went our own way.
I also received a Christmas package from my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and grandparents. I received multiple sets of warm clothes--hoodies, jammie pants, tights, socks, and thermal wear--some food from home, a cute snowman blanket, and some movies I wanted to see, but hadn't had time to watch. I am very thankful for these things. It's very cold in Kyoto, and I hadn't had the time or financial means to buy clothes for the upcoming winter weather. I feel that these gifts were perfect for this year, and that I didn't need anything extravagant. It's humbling, and I like it.
However, after going to Laura's house to celebrate Christmas Eve, she and Cornelius walked me back to my apartment. We had all eaten quite a lot, and we wanted fresh air. Laura carried my new snowman blanket as a bundle in one arm and suddenly, a woman--whom we've never met--wearing a Santa hat asked us in Japanese, "Is that a baby?" We kept walking, not knowing she was talking to us, as she had been talking to a man moments before, but she continued, "Is that a baby?" Finally, she ran to us and gently took Laura's hand, "Oh! I thought that was a baby!" The woman sounded relieved. (All of this is in Japanese, by the way.) Laura laughed and said, "No, no! It's a blanket! Just a blanket!" All three of us laughed and the woman smiled. "Oh! I really thought it was a baby! Oh! Silly me!" She took the blanket and rocked it and kissed it. I'm sure all three of us were thinking she was just a drunk, silly woman, but she gave the blanket back to Laura, then did something unexpected. She gave each of us a sincere hug and said, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" We hugged her back and laughed, saying the same greeting to her. She walked us to the intersection and told us to enjoy ourselves. We went our separate ways, and laughed about the experience on the way to my apartment building.
Yet, for some reason, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic at this. I looked at my computer clock, and the time read 12:05 a.m., which would put the meeting with this woman at exactly midnight on Christmas Day. I'm not sure if I'll ever see that woman again, or if I had even seen her before tonight, but I feel like meeting her was not chance. I feel as though I were four years old, sitting with my brother in our dining room looking at the gifts Santa had brought us with wonder, not knowing how fortunate we were. I realized how selfish I had been many Christmases before, never taking the time to try and understand the importance of family and a brief encounter with a friend. To me, this woman was Santa Claus, and our meeting will stick with my thoughts forever.
I think this Christmas, although it has nearly twenty-four more hours to fill, will stick with me because it is not the usual. It's imperfect.
Even if I'm not meeting my own goals in exactly the same way I'd like to, I feel as though I'm learning so much from my stay in Japan. I'm seeing a side of humanity that I never thought existed, or perhaps, it was just a side I had given up on somewhere down the line. If I were to see that woman again, I would look her in the eyes and say thank you with all of my heart. And I hope that someone, somewhere, and someday can repay her the kindness she gave me on this cold night in December in a land very far from home.
I'm sure she would laugh and smile saying, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Homesickness
I didn't really understand how the other exchange students could say they were "homesick" after coming to Japan. I never really missed "home" because I felt--and still feel--very much at home in Kyoto. But with the Christmas holiday quickly approaching, I find myself having more down days than up. I find myself sinking behind in my studies and struggling to concentrate.All I want for Christmas is to spend time with my family and friends, and I know it's impossible for me to go back to Texas for the holidays. I also know that I would be mad at myself for doing this, if it were possible, anyway. I know it's good for me to remain in Japan even during the break.
But knowledge doesn't change the desire to be home, petting my animals, hugging my parents, cuddling the hell out of my boyfriend, and even playing with my chubby nephew.
I am very lucky to be where I am today, and even luckier to be living my dream of living in Japan. This trip has definitely been humbling. I've very lucky and proud to be living in Kyoto, even more so that I could be fortunate enough to live here for a year.
But for those of you wanting to study abroad, here's my advice to you: Homesickness might not hit you at first, but when it does hit you, be prepared to deal with it for awhile.
But knowledge doesn't change the desire to be home, petting my animals, hugging my parents, cuddling the hell out of my boyfriend, and even playing with my chubby nephew.
I am very lucky to be where I am today, and even luckier to be living my dream of living in Japan. This trip has definitely been humbling. I've very lucky and proud to be living in Kyoto, even more so that I could be fortunate enough to live here for a year.
But for those of you wanting to study abroad, here's my advice to you: Homesickness might not hit you at first, but when it does hit you, be prepared to deal with it for awhile.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Experiences and Realizations: the never-ending continuation.
This is a blog I'd like to dedicate to all of the people I've ever met in my life, as silly as that sounds.
I woke up from a nap after eating way too many crepes my friend, Laura made for me in return for some udon and edible chrysanthemum--I found out, once again, that I was allergic to a plant that usually doesn't bother me--and felt strange. I felt unsettled, out of place, and a little homesick. The dream was strangely familiar. I was home, in Texas in my high school, a hybrid of Japanese and Texan architecture, speaking to my friends and family in Japanese and English. I was welcomed with hugs by my friend, Oscar, a cook I used to work with at a restaurant called Outlaw's back home, and he told me that I was growing up too fast, going to get married soon. I laughed and told him that he'd better make sure my boyfriend married me. My Mom then took my hand and dragged me to talk to a woman I'd only seen at pep rallies in real life. Her blond, flipped-out hair, and former cheerleader smile unnerved me as she asked me if I had already sold my truck, a vehicle I stopped driving almost two years ago. The dream continued like this. My friend Bonnie smiled at me and bobbed around like an excited puppy. Why was I being told "Congratulations for going to Japan?" I opened my eyes and couldn't wrap my head around where I was. I looked to my right, a place I would normally see a black lab/pittbull mix lying beside me. My boyfriend's dog wasn't there, and I wasn't sleeping on the floor on a futon next to a surreal-post-modernist painting. I wasn't home. This was the second time I've had this feeling in Japan. The first occurring only after I woke up in a hotel after flying.
I'm not sure what this dream meant, but I'm asking all of my friends and family to be careful, safe, healthy, well-fed, and warm during the holiday season. I won't be home, something that feels a little lonely, and a weight in my stomach is telling me that something may happen. I'm not sure if it's good, but the suspense is right under my skin.
However, while this dream was rather perplexing--still is, even after writing about it--I've had a few realizations over the past week or two that I haven't written. Each experience is tiny, and I feel that when I write the whole, I lose the emotion that happened in one particular instance. These moments can't be expressed in mundane detail, like the number of steps it takes to climb up Kotohiragu Shrine in Kagawa Prefecture, or the details of my trip to Awaji-shima, school speeches, and being cast in a college film. All of these are interesting, and I'll touch on each of them briefly--I was writing a mundane entry about the Awaji-shima trip that I felt did no justice--but I want to discuss only the important details. (I'm terrible about repeating myself, aren't I?)
I hope that I will never forget sitting with my two good friends on a bench, staring at the river on a cold night with biting wind, drinking a can of fruity alcohol, laughing at childhood stories, complaining about school, and letting ourselves unwind. It was about nine o'clock, and we had just finished a fantastic eight-course meal at a Chinese restaurant in our hotel, the Tokushima Grandvrio Hotel. The trip until that point had been action-packed, and busy, but I'll save that for a different blog entry. Cornelius, Laura and I had been awake since early morning, and we couldn't wait for our two hours of exploration away from the other students and planned outings. We decided the best thing to do would be to stop at a convenience store, purchase some cheap alcohol, and just relax by the bank of a river passing through town.
Honestly, this was the first time that I had really spent time with Cornelius. We had hung around a few times before, but I had always taken it for granted, and I never gave the time to truly appreciate his company. However, away from the group, this pristine, reserved, intelligent guy let his shoulders drop from his rather straight posture. He laughed as my Texan accent slipped, and even shared stories from his childhood. We all took turns talking about laughing with food in our mouth, drinks spraying from nostrils, and even laughing to the point of vomiting. These aren't heavy topics, and they're easy to relate to, no matter whom you talk with. Yet, looking at the sky, shivering under my wool jacket while the can of alcohol stuck to my hand, I smiled to myself as the realization came over me: I've made some very good friends in Japan.
As all three of us walked to the hotel, relaxed enough from the alcohol to talk freely, but not slovenly, we joked that we would work together. Cornelius, the law student, would have to put up with the shenanigans of two very hyper coworkers. He would be our supervisor. Laura would bring people as a negotiation ambassador with her French charm and keep them there with her German matter-of-factness. Our friend, Sindre, would keep us well-fed, but forget to do some of the more important work that comes with being a secretary. Our boss, Chris, would keep the work atmosphere relaxed, allow us to work freely, but would hardly take work on himself. As for me with my hostess-loving personality, I would act as an Ambassador, meeting clients at the airport and restaurants, but would double as a security guard with a hot temper and wicked umbrella-sword skills. These jokes were light and amusing, but all three of us knew that this probably wouldn't happen. It was a dream. Our smiles were betrayed by the sadness in our eyes. Cornelius kept a small smile on his face, but all three of us knew that he would be returning to Law School after January, and it would be a very long time, perhaps an eternity for me, before we ever saw him again. And likewise, the uncertainty of seeing Laura again after August 2012 hit me hard in the stomach. The hour we spent on the bench would seem like a snowflake in a warm pond. Spring would come too quickly, the snowflake would melt away and remain with the rest of the water; part of a blur too small to be remembered.
Oh, but I hope that I remember it always.
This is one of the heaviest realizations I've had in awhile, but it eases me to write about it. Even as I type, the moment is bittersweet in my memory. I find myself already forgetting the topics of our conversation and feel myself digging deeper and deeper to try to bring the details to light.
I feel a bit strange going on from this point, especially in such an abrupt transition, but I would like to talk about another realization I had, as well as an experience in brief that I feel changed my life forever.
First, the realization. As I sat down, preparing myself to write this blog, I tried to let go of some of the bitterness I have for some of the people studying language around me. I realized I can't advance unless I let this unnecessary jealousy, contempt, and self-pity leave my body. This is silly, but it's quite common among students that study languages. It becomes a competition to some of us, especially to people like me that consider all of life a competition. Some of my largest faults--and strengths--are my passion for learning, determination to learn, and hardness I put on myself. I have always been the type to push myself to learn something, and I get very frustrated and angry when I can't learn something new. Typically, this happened in math class, where the logic made sense to me, but not the numbers. This frustration comes typically from the fact that I learn pretty quickly, generally. And it makes me angry that people who I feel are on the same level, speaking, writing, and reading wise, are placed in a class higher than me in Japanese. But today, I realized I'm already better in Japanese than I thought. When I came here, I couldn't speak confidently, and if I saw someone was confused, I would switch to English. Now, even though I can't speak with perfect grammar, correct vocabulary, or even in practical sentence-structure, I can get my point across to my friends, teachers, and even strangers. People still look at me as if they can't understand me sometimes, but I can make myself understood. It's refreshing to know that I can survive in a country while receiving help from friends, but doing a majority of the work on my own. In the end, I was the one making this difference the world. I can't let it overtake my time. I'm going to learn Japanese and be happy with myself. Screw the other people.
But at the same time, I never realized how many people could utilize the English language. I had a rather scary moment, when a dear friend of mine told me they wanted to kill themself over skype yesterday. Sadly, this had become a sort of routine. My friend would tell me, I would spend about an hour talking them down, they would calm down, and then it would repeat the next time I spoke to them. It seemed sort of boy cried wolf, but yesterday was different. It was them telling me they wanted to die, me trying a different reverse-psychology technique, my friend calming down, working back up, then silence on the other end of skype. I tried to wait. Perhaps it was a faulty internet connection. Perhaps my internet had died. Maybe they just wanted to scare me. Then I panicked. I talked to my friend, who at first told me that I was being a bit mean for not being more sympathetic, but then we both felt as if my friend wanted attention. However, we both thought it would be a good idea to take it seriously, so I messaged everyone I could think of, writing in basic English for my friends in Europe to try and contact my best friend of about seven years. Luckily, she was alright, but I had never been so thankful that European countries speak English. I can't say thank you enough to these people I had never met, and could only thank them for taking the time to read my message and check on my friend.
Time for another awkward transition; this blog entry is getting too heavy. Although, technically, this is along the same context, just reverse.
This weekend, a friend of mine contacted me on facebook asking me if I would be willing to participate in her friend's college film. Apparently, the girl needed a foreigner that could speak English, and she needed some other foreigners for background actors and actresses. This was a case in which someone was very happy that I could speak English,a s well as understand acting directions in Japanese. I was asked to give my voice to even male characters, which had always been a weird sort of dream for me. I've always wanted to voice act, but my shyness has kept me from it. My voice is a bit deep for a girl, so I figured that if I failed in my ventures to become an English teacher in Japan someday, I could always ask to play the part of gaijin, or background person in Japanese anime. It wasn't anime, but a real film. I had to speak in English, which was a bit harder for me, but I enjoyed it. It was cool seeing my friends on screen, and it was incredibly difficult to sync time with a person speaking in non-native English. I will receive a copy of the DVD when the editing is complete, but I won't say much about the story until then. I don't want to spoil anything.
Thanks for reading a rather long blog entry. But I hope it makes up for not writing very often!
Until next time, whenever that may be.
Please don't take the holidays for granted and enjoy spending time with your friends and family.
I woke up from a nap after eating way too many crepes my friend, Laura made for me in return for some udon and edible chrysanthemum--I found out, once again, that I was allergic to a plant that usually doesn't bother me--and felt strange. I felt unsettled, out of place, and a little homesick. The dream was strangely familiar. I was home, in Texas in my high school, a hybrid of Japanese and Texan architecture, speaking to my friends and family in Japanese and English. I was welcomed with hugs by my friend, Oscar, a cook I used to work with at a restaurant called Outlaw's back home, and he told me that I was growing up too fast, going to get married soon. I laughed and told him that he'd better make sure my boyfriend married me. My Mom then took my hand and dragged me to talk to a woman I'd only seen at pep rallies in real life. Her blond, flipped-out hair, and former cheerleader smile unnerved me as she asked me if I had already sold my truck, a vehicle I stopped driving almost two years ago. The dream continued like this. My friend Bonnie smiled at me and bobbed around like an excited puppy. Why was I being told "Congratulations for going to Japan?" I opened my eyes and couldn't wrap my head around where I was. I looked to my right, a place I would normally see a black lab/pittbull mix lying beside me. My boyfriend's dog wasn't there, and I wasn't sleeping on the floor on a futon next to a surreal-post-modernist painting. I wasn't home. This was the second time I've had this feeling in Japan. The first occurring only after I woke up in a hotel after flying.
I'm not sure what this dream meant, but I'm asking all of my friends and family to be careful, safe, healthy, well-fed, and warm during the holiday season. I won't be home, something that feels a little lonely, and a weight in my stomach is telling me that something may happen. I'm not sure if it's good, but the suspense is right under my skin.
However, while this dream was rather perplexing--still is, even after writing about it--I've had a few realizations over the past week or two that I haven't written. Each experience is tiny, and I feel that when I write the whole, I lose the emotion that happened in one particular instance. These moments can't be expressed in mundane detail, like the number of steps it takes to climb up Kotohiragu Shrine in Kagawa Prefecture, or the details of my trip to Awaji-shima, school speeches, and being cast in a college film. All of these are interesting, and I'll touch on each of them briefly--I was writing a mundane entry about the Awaji-shima trip that I felt did no justice--but I want to discuss only the important details. (I'm terrible about repeating myself, aren't I?)
I hope that I will never forget sitting with my two good friends on a bench, staring at the river on a cold night with biting wind, drinking a can of fruity alcohol, laughing at childhood stories, complaining about school, and letting ourselves unwind. It was about nine o'clock, and we had just finished a fantastic eight-course meal at a Chinese restaurant in our hotel, the Tokushima Grandvrio Hotel. The trip until that point had been action-packed, and busy, but I'll save that for a different blog entry. Cornelius, Laura and I had been awake since early morning, and we couldn't wait for our two hours of exploration away from the other students and planned outings. We decided the best thing to do would be to stop at a convenience store, purchase some cheap alcohol, and just relax by the bank of a river passing through town.
Honestly, this was the first time that I had really spent time with Cornelius. We had hung around a few times before, but I had always taken it for granted, and I never gave the time to truly appreciate his company. However, away from the group, this pristine, reserved, intelligent guy let his shoulders drop from his rather straight posture. He laughed as my Texan accent slipped, and even shared stories from his childhood. We all took turns talking about laughing with food in our mouth, drinks spraying from nostrils, and even laughing to the point of vomiting. These aren't heavy topics, and they're easy to relate to, no matter whom you talk with. Yet, looking at the sky, shivering under my wool jacket while the can of alcohol stuck to my hand, I smiled to myself as the realization came over me: I've made some very good friends in Japan.
As all three of us walked to the hotel, relaxed enough from the alcohol to talk freely, but not slovenly, we joked that we would work together. Cornelius, the law student, would have to put up with the shenanigans of two very hyper coworkers. He would be our supervisor. Laura would bring people as a negotiation ambassador with her French charm and keep them there with her German matter-of-factness. Our friend, Sindre, would keep us well-fed, but forget to do some of the more important work that comes with being a secretary. Our boss, Chris, would keep the work atmosphere relaxed, allow us to work freely, but would hardly take work on himself. As for me with my hostess-loving personality, I would act as an Ambassador, meeting clients at the airport and restaurants, but would double as a security guard with a hot temper and wicked umbrella-sword skills. These jokes were light and amusing, but all three of us knew that this probably wouldn't happen. It was a dream. Our smiles were betrayed by the sadness in our eyes. Cornelius kept a small smile on his face, but all three of us knew that he would be returning to Law School after January, and it would be a very long time, perhaps an eternity for me, before we ever saw him again. And likewise, the uncertainty of seeing Laura again after August 2012 hit me hard in the stomach. The hour we spent on the bench would seem like a snowflake in a warm pond. Spring would come too quickly, the snowflake would melt away and remain with the rest of the water; part of a blur too small to be remembered.
Oh, but I hope that I remember it always.
This is one of the heaviest realizations I've had in awhile, but it eases me to write about it. Even as I type, the moment is bittersweet in my memory. I find myself already forgetting the topics of our conversation and feel myself digging deeper and deeper to try to bring the details to light.
I feel a bit strange going on from this point, especially in such an abrupt transition, but I would like to talk about another realization I had, as well as an experience in brief that I feel changed my life forever.
First, the realization. As I sat down, preparing myself to write this blog, I tried to let go of some of the bitterness I have for some of the people studying language around me. I realized I can't advance unless I let this unnecessary jealousy, contempt, and self-pity leave my body. This is silly, but it's quite common among students that study languages. It becomes a competition to some of us, especially to people like me that consider all of life a competition. Some of my largest faults--and strengths--are my passion for learning, determination to learn, and hardness I put on myself. I have always been the type to push myself to learn something, and I get very frustrated and angry when I can't learn something new. Typically, this happened in math class, where the logic made sense to me, but not the numbers. This frustration comes typically from the fact that I learn pretty quickly, generally. And it makes me angry that people who I feel are on the same level, speaking, writing, and reading wise, are placed in a class higher than me in Japanese. But today, I realized I'm already better in Japanese than I thought. When I came here, I couldn't speak confidently, and if I saw someone was confused, I would switch to English. Now, even though I can't speak with perfect grammar, correct vocabulary, or even in practical sentence-structure, I can get my point across to my friends, teachers, and even strangers. People still look at me as if they can't understand me sometimes, but I can make myself understood. It's refreshing to know that I can survive in a country while receiving help from friends, but doing a majority of the work on my own. In the end, I was the one making this difference the world. I can't let it overtake my time. I'm going to learn Japanese and be happy with myself. Screw the other people.
But at the same time, I never realized how many people could utilize the English language. I had a rather scary moment, when a dear friend of mine told me they wanted to kill themself over skype yesterday. Sadly, this had become a sort of routine. My friend would tell me, I would spend about an hour talking them down, they would calm down, and then it would repeat the next time I spoke to them. It seemed sort of boy cried wolf, but yesterday was different. It was them telling me they wanted to die, me trying a different reverse-psychology technique, my friend calming down, working back up, then silence on the other end of skype. I tried to wait. Perhaps it was a faulty internet connection. Perhaps my internet had died. Maybe they just wanted to scare me. Then I panicked. I talked to my friend, who at first told me that I was being a bit mean for not being more sympathetic, but then we both felt as if my friend wanted attention. However, we both thought it would be a good idea to take it seriously, so I messaged everyone I could think of, writing in basic English for my friends in Europe to try and contact my best friend of about seven years. Luckily, she was alright, but I had never been so thankful that European countries speak English. I can't say thank you enough to these people I had never met, and could only thank them for taking the time to read my message and check on my friend.
Time for another awkward transition; this blog entry is getting too heavy. Although, technically, this is along the same context, just reverse.
This weekend, a friend of mine contacted me on facebook asking me if I would be willing to participate in her friend's college film. Apparently, the girl needed a foreigner that could speak English, and she needed some other foreigners for background actors and actresses. This was a case in which someone was very happy that I could speak English,a s well as understand acting directions in Japanese. I was asked to give my voice to even male characters, which had always been a weird sort of dream for me. I've always wanted to voice act, but my shyness has kept me from it. My voice is a bit deep for a girl, so I figured that if I failed in my ventures to become an English teacher in Japan someday, I could always ask to play the part of gaijin, or background person in Japanese anime. It wasn't anime, but a real film. I had to speak in English, which was a bit harder for me, but I enjoyed it. It was cool seeing my friends on screen, and it was incredibly difficult to sync time with a person speaking in non-native English. I will receive a copy of the DVD when the editing is complete, but I won't say much about the story until then. I don't want to spoil anything.
Thanks for reading a rather long blog entry. But I hope it makes up for not writing very often!
Until next time, whenever that may be.
Please don't take the holidays for granted and enjoy spending time with your friends and family.
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