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."
Saturday, December 24, 2011
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.
Monday, November 28, 2011
English and Schedule Changes
I'm getting bad at updating this blog again.
December is going to be a busy month for me. I'll be going on a bus trip with a group of students from Ritsumeikan to learn about earthquake and disaster safety on the 3rd and 4th, and the Monday after I have a small test and exam in the same week. I think I have two more tests in the month of December. It's going to be difficult, but now I have to learn how to manage my time.
Although I enjoy speaking in English to my foreign exchange student friends, I really need to start speaking in more Japanese. I feel that I can communicate pretty well with my Japanese friends, and we don't have nearly as many complete miscommunication gaps as we used to in the beginning. However, I want to have the natural canter and accent when I speak. That's not going to happen if I keep speaking English outside of class.
I really need to make a schedule and stick to it. I've had too much fun in English. I need to have fun in Japanese.
However, with that said, even though I'm using English quite a bit while I'm here, I'm forgetting my native language. I can't think of how to explain the definition of words, even if I used them frequently at home. When talking about Japan or Japanese culture to my family and friends at home, I cannot speak with the normal canter or emphasis. I'm forgetting where to put articles and how to phrase things naturally. It's so weird, but I really like it. Sometimes I wish I could forget more of my English if it meant I would be that much better at Japanese. But it doesn't work like that. I'm just in a stage of integrating my Japanese into my thought process that I wasn't before.
I'm going to try and get my flickr account up and running today so I can share pictures with my friends and family who aren't on facebook. However, please continue checking here to see my progress with myself as I find a way to adapt to my new environment. I love the Japanese lifestyle, I've just got some catching up to do with the language.
Have a good day.
December is going to be a busy month for me. I'll be going on a bus trip with a group of students from Ritsumeikan to learn about earthquake and disaster safety on the 3rd and 4th, and the Monday after I have a small test and exam in the same week. I think I have two more tests in the month of December. It's going to be difficult, but now I have to learn how to manage my time.
Although I enjoy speaking in English to my foreign exchange student friends, I really need to start speaking in more Japanese. I feel that I can communicate pretty well with my Japanese friends, and we don't have nearly as many complete miscommunication gaps as we used to in the beginning. However, I want to have the natural canter and accent when I speak. That's not going to happen if I keep speaking English outside of class.
I really need to make a schedule and stick to it. I've had too much fun in English. I need to have fun in Japanese.
However, with that said, even though I'm using English quite a bit while I'm here, I'm forgetting my native language. I can't think of how to explain the definition of words, even if I used them frequently at home. When talking about Japan or Japanese culture to my family and friends at home, I cannot speak with the normal canter or emphasis. I'm forgetting where to put articles and how to phrase things naturally. It's so weird, but I really like it. Sometimes I wish I could forget more of my English if it meant I would be that much better at Japanese. But it doesn't work like that. I'm just in a stage of integrating my Japanese into my thought process that I wasn't before.
I'm going to try and get my flickr account up and running today so I can share pictures with my friends and family who aren't on facebook. However, please continue checking here to see my progress with myself as I find a way to adapt to my new environment. I love the Japanese lifestyle, I've just got some catching up to do with the language.
Have a good day.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Battle of Self
The reason why I have difficulty relaxing hit me hard chest today, and I became highly disappointed with myself. it seems that when I gain an interest in something, I talk about following up with it, but never stick to my word. I then beat myself up over not doing something I wanted to do.
I haven't been to Aikido since the first time I went. I told myself that it was fine because I had tests and schoolwork, and the Aikido circle didn't practice for about two weeks because of a change in schedule, but then I've missed the last two practices. I haven't contacted the girl that offered to take me, and I haven't even considered going. I'm so angry at myself. I tell myself that I'll join next semester when I know what classes are like and have more time to offer, but in my head, I always doubt myself.
My friend Laura told me there is a saying in German that mentions, "Just tightening your butt-cheeks, sitting down, and doing the work." Why can't I ever do that?
This blog has turned into more of an emo-kid's diary than an actual travel blog, but I guess this is part of the experience.
I know that inside of me, there is this anger, determination, and desire to move and be thrown. I need that kind of physical discipline, and I desperately need to handle these emotions that consume me. I'm tired of being the pawn and puppet for something that I'm supposed to control. I know Aikido will help me learn to center myself, and when watching, and participating in even the basic steps, I found myself calming down.
Part of me hates to admit though that I wanted to be the only foreigner in the club, and now that another student has joined, I'm upset and acting childish. If I really wanted to go, I would have gone all along. I would have sucked it up and just walked in the dojo and asked to learn. I thought I had gotten over my fear of failure, and apparently it still exists.
I'm going to stop complaining and do my homework before I write some more stupid self-pity.
When will I learn that I don't have to be perfect at everything?
I haven't been to Aikido since the first time I went. I told myself that it was fine because I had tests and schoolwork, and the Aikido circle didn't practice for about two weeks because of a change in schedule, but then I've missed the last two practices. I haven't contacted the girl that offered to take me, and I haven't even considered going. I'm so angry at myself. I tell myself that I'll join next semester when I know what classes are like and have more time to offer, but in my head, I always doubt myself.
My friend Laura told me there is a saying in German that mentions, "Just tightening your butt-cheeks, sitting down, and doing the work." Why can't I ever do that?
This blog has turned into more of an emo-kid's diary than an actual travel blog, but I guess this is part of the experience.
I know that inside of me, there is this anger, determination, and desire to move and be thrown. I need that kind of physical discipline, and I desperately need to handle these emotions that consume me. I'm tired of being the pawn and puppet for something that I'm supposed to control. I know Aikido will help me learn to center myself, and when watching, and participating in even the basic steps, I found myself calming down.
Part of me hates to admit though that I wanted to be the only foreigner in the club, and now that another student has joined, I'm upset and acting childish. If I really wanted to go, I would have gone all along. I would have sucked it up and just walked in the dojo and asked to learn. I thought I had gotten over my fear of failure, and apparently it still exists.
I'm going to stop complaining and do my homework before I write some more stupid self-pity.
When will I learn that I don't have to be perfect at everything?
Friday, November 18, 2011
Thoughts on Culture and Identity
I forgot how relaxing silence can be. Well, a noise that's almost silent, but muted in the background. With the hum of my heater and the monotonous ticking of my clock behind me, I feel at ease in my apartment for the first time in awhile. It's not that I don't feel safe, it's just that I've been so tense with my school work and hostile towards myself for procrastinating. I'm very grateful that my internet has been nice to me for a little over an hour now, and I am taking this time to update.
For those of you that aren't on my facebook or skype account, I have been having difficulty maintaining an internet connection of any sort at my apartment. I'm still not sure what the problem is, as my internet was working perfectly two or three days ago. I'm telling myself that when it goes out, i must become a serious student again and continue my studies, or just simply do something better with my time, like exercise, read, or cook something decent for dinner. It's irritating, though, when the internet continues to shut on and off every five minutes while trying to write an essay in Japanese, and you're relying on an internet dictionary because your denshi jisho (Japanese electric dictionary) is outdated.
I've been having trouble finding my motivation lately, and I'm not sure where this laziness is coming from. Part of me wants to blame it on my new ability of relaxation and lack of stress, but I think a lot of it is just laziness at its best. My teacher told me a few days ago that she was starting to realize who was serious about the class and who wasn't, and she looked at me for the latter. I was a bit hurt and angry, but then I realized she was right: I hadn't been giving my best--yet I wasn't being a complete bumpkin, either--and I needed to push myself. today the same teacher smiled at me and said, "You really are pretty serious about studying, aren't you?" It made me smile, and it felt even better that it was all in Japanese.
I realized I'm in the right place today. I miss my family and friends, but I'm not homesick. I'm not depressed that I don't have some of the luxuries that I did back in Texas. But I'm not sad. I'm not mourning a life that I'll return to when I go home. Part of me is actually dreading the return, even though I know I won't be home for another ten months. Here there seems to be less ignorance, less assumptions. I feel as though the people know more about me than I know about myself, as well as more about the history and culture of the United States. I try my best not to make too many cultural mistakes, and my Japanese friends tell me when I'm about to make a big one, yet I take pride every time I hear a Japanese person tell me, "You're a lot like a Japanese person, you know?" To me, that is one of the best compliments I can receive. When I hear it in Japanese, I feel even better. To me, this simple statement translates into, "You respect my culture and understand what it's about."
On the more somber side of the coin, I feel a vein start to throb at the base of my jaw when I read some of the comments on my facebook, emails form friends and family, as well as the random chat message on skype from a friend back home. I can't think of a friendly or polite way to write what I want to say, but the basic concept of my thought is that ignorance is much too prevalent. I want to write back snotty messages and act like a five-year-old when I read assumptions that if I act as I would back home, it would be alright in a country where culture is different. Although Japan uses kanji in the majority of its publications, newspapers, textbooks, etc., that is not the only writing system used in this country. I cannot simply ask my landlord to store furniture in a building that is small. It's insulting.Things are done differently here. I am comfortable with a majority of the culture differences because I feel that I am prepared for them. I wish that I could cut out a chunk of the culture and display it perfectly in some virtual-reality world so that all of you could see, taste, hear, and feel it in the atmosphere, but that's impossible. Please trust my judgement.
I mention all of these things because I am writing an essay for one of my classes in English. The topic of the essay concerns our experiences in the class as well as our thoughts on culture and identity. Even though I feel like I'm home here, I can't say I understand either of these things clearly. I don't know who I am, but I really like who I am becoming.
For those of you that aren't on my facebook or skype account, I have been having difficulty maintaining an internet connection of any sort at my apartment. I'm still not sure what the problem is, as my internet was working perfectly two or three days ago. I'm telling myself that when it goes out, i must become a serious student again and continue my studies, or just simply do something better with my time, like exercise, read, or cook something decent for dinner. It's irritating, though, when the internet continues to shut on and off every five minutes while trying to write an essay in Japanese, and you're relying on an internet dictionary because your denshi jisho (Japanese electric dictionary) is outdated.
I've been having trouble finding my motivation lately, and I'm not sure where this laziness is coming from. Part of me wants to blame it on my new ability of relaxation and lack of stress, but I think a lot of it is just laziness at its best. My teacher told me a few days ago that she was starting to realize who was serious about the class and who wasn't, and she looked at me for the latter. I was a bit hurt and angry, but then I realized she was right: I hadn't been giving my best--yet I wasn't being a complete bumpkin, either--and I needed to push myself. today the same teacher smiled at me and said, "You really are pretty serious about studying, aren't you?" It made me smile, and it felt even better that it was all in Japanese.
I realized I'm in the right place today. I miss my family and friends, but I'm not homesick. I'm not depressed that I don't have some of the luxuries that I did back in Texas. But I'm not sad. I'm not mourning a life that I'll return to when I go home. Part of me is actually dreading the return, even though I know I won't be home for another ten months. Here there seems to be less ignorance, less assumptions. I feel as though the people know more about me than I know about myself, as well as more about the history and culture of the United States. I try my best not to make too many cultural mistakes, and my Japanese friends tell me when I'm about to make a big one, yet I take pride every time I hear a Japanese person tell me, "You're a lot like a Japanese person, you know?" To me, that is one of the best compliments I can receive. When I hear it in Japanese, I feel even better. To me, this simple statement translates into, "You respect my culture and understand what it's about."
On the more somber side of the coin, I feel a vein start to throb at the base of my jaw when I read some of the comments on my facebook, emails form friends and family, as well as the random chat message on skype from a friend back home. I can't think of a friendly or polite way to write what I want to say, but the basic concept of my thought is that ignorance is much too prevalent. I want to write back snotty messages and act like a five-year-old when I read assumptions that if I act as I would back home, it would be alright in a country where culture is different. Although Japan uses kanji in the majority of its publications, newspapers, textbooks, etc., that is not the only writing system used in this country. I cannot simply ask my landlord to store furniture in a building that is small. It's insulting.Things are done differently here. I am comfortable with a majority of the culture differences because I feel that I am prepared for them. I wish that I could cut out a chunk of the culture and display it perfectly in some virtual-reality world so that all of you could see, taste, hear, and feel it in the atmosphere, but that's impossible. Please trust my judgement.
I mention all of these things because I am writing an essay for one of my classes in English. The topic of the essay concerns our experiences in the class as well as our thoughts on culture and identity. Even though I feel like I'm home here, I can't say I understand either of these things clearly. I don't know who I am, but I really like who I am becoming.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Immortality
It's hard to believe that I was in middle school seven years ago. It seems like it was just recently that I tripped myself in Barnes and Noble to get a second look at a character of my imagination looking back at me. For the first thirty minutes of manga-browsing, my best friend, Kasey, and I thought I was just crazy. But then I picked up a book that would eventually become a topic of consideration for my thesis: Immortal Rain or メテオ・メトセラ by Kaori Ozaki (written first name, last name).
I vaguely stated before that I was initially intrigued by one of the characters I noticed on the cover of a book. In 2004, sometime during my third year of middle school, I created a character named Kasami for one of my written role-play stories with my best friend, Colleen, but he ended up becoming one of the main, and favorite characters of a role-play written with Kasey. To describe him now, it seems as if I'm just copying Rain, the main character from Immortal Rain, but I had never seen the manga when I thought of Kasami's image. I imagined a man that was tall and slender, with long blonde hair, an amber eyes.
I originally bought the book because I thought Kaori Ozaki had been reading my role-play stories through some elaborate form of Japanese computer hacking, and stealing my characters for her story. Upon reading it, however, I was confronted with a story girly enough to win over my inner hopeless romantic, but with enough action and psychological stimulation that I found myself wanting more. I was rather shocked that I didn't like the story because Rain reminded me of Kasami. I liked it because the emotions, the scenery, even with some of its surreal plot, was very real; it still is. I think Ozaki captures the human thought process very well, and while comics are often thought of as books for children, I beg to differ.
The third volume of Immortal Rain is particularly interesting to me. At the time when I read this manga, I was still coming to terms with many aspect of myself, and becoming lost as to who I was as a person, and exactly whom or what I believed in. I don't want to give away any spoilers, so I will vaguely say that this volume brings up many interesting talks of religion, life, and the purpose of the human being. I was intrigued and horrified by some of the imagery, descriptions, and overall climactic feeling of this volume. When I bought the Japanese volume upon my first visit to Japan, I found the story even more morbidly interesting. Now that I can read a bit more of the story and understand it in its original language, it hits home even more. Yet, if you want to read this volume just to know what I"m talking about, I suggest you read the first three volumes. on average, manga take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to read. if you try to read volume three on its own, a lot of the story and purpose will be missing. (However, even taken out of context, the images are disturbing. Another reason why children shouldn't read the book.)
But after being drawn in seven years ago, I finally finished the series. If I weren't in a public bus at the time I was reading it, I would have cried, smiled, and laughed. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed at the last two volumes of the series. It felt as though Ozaki was trying too hard to make the story happen and end rather than allowing it to take its own course. But after a rush to the last few scenes, the ending fell into place. Thinking about it makes me feel as if my heart is cramping, trying to stifle the tears that are growing heavy at the base of my throat.
I'm glad that it ended as it did, and I will continue reading over it until I can analyze the story in full.
I'm even happier that I read the last of the story in Japanese, in Japan, on my way home from Shamisen class in Gion.
I vaguely stated before that I was initially intrigued by one of the characters I noticed on the cover of a book. In 2004, sometime during my third year of middle school, I created a character named Kasami for one of my written role-play stories with my best friend, Colleen, but he ended up becoming one of the main, and favorite characters of a role-play written with Kasey. To describe him now, it seems as if I'm just copying Rain, the main character from Immortal Rain, but I had never seen the manga when I thought of Kasami's image. I imagined a man that was tall and slender, with long blonde hair, an amber eyes.
I originally bought the book because I thought Kaori Ozaki had been reading my role-play stories through some elaborate form of Japanese computer hacking, and stealing my characters for her story. Upon reading it, however, I was confronted with a story girly enough to win over my inner hopeless romantic, but with enough action and psychological stimulation that I found myself wanting more. I was rather shocked that I didn't like the story because Rain reminded me of Kasami. I liked it because the emotions, the scenery, even with some of its surreal plot, was very real; it still is. I think Ozaki captures the human thought process very well, and while comics are often thought of as books for children, I beg to differ.
The third volume of Immortal Rain is particularly interesting to me. At the time when I read this manga, I was still coming to terms with many aspect of myself, and becoming lost as to who I was as a person, and exactly whom or what I believed in. I don't want to give away any spoilers, so I will vaguely say that this volume brings up many interesting talks of religion, life, and the purpose of the human being. I was intrigued and horrified by some of the imagery, descriptions, and overall climactic feeling of this volume. When I bought the Japanese volume upon my first visit to Japan, I found the story even more morbidly interesting. Now that I can read a bit more of the story and understand it in its original language, it hits home even more. Yet, if you want to read this volume just to know what I"m talking about, I suggest you read the first three volumes. on average, manga take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to read. if you try to read volume three on its own, a lot of the story and purpose will be missing. (However, even taken out of context, the images are disturbing. Another reason why children shouldn't read the book.)
But after being drawn in seven years ago, I finally finished the series. If I weren't in a public bus at the time I was reading it, I would have cried, smiled, and laughed. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed at the last two volumes of the series. It felt as though Ozaki was trying too hard to make the story happen and end rather than allowing it to take its own course. But after a rush to the last few scenes, the ending fell into place. Thinking about it makes me feel as if my heart is cramping, trying to stifle the tears that are growing heavy at the base of my throat.
I'm glad that it ended as it did, and I will continue reading over it until I can analyze the story in full.
I'm even happier that I read the last of the story in Japanese, in Japan, on my way home from Shamisen class in Gion.
Monday, November 7, 2011
1984
I think I've always been interested in learning, but I've never realized how I hinder myself until now.
While I don't necessarily think it's bad hindering, I've come to realize that while I absorb a majority of the information I hear, read, practice, etc., I do not necessarily accept or agree with all of it as fact. I've often wondered why I am a Literature major. It was not my first choice, but one of necessity and frustration with the bureaucracy of my home university. It's unfair for me to say that the relationship I have with my major is one of hate; there's some love (somewhere) in there, too.
But back to what I started writing about: Hinderances.
When I was in highschool, I was asked to read 1984 by George Orwell, and that novel scared the living shit out of me. Ever since then, I cannot bring myself to just accept information indifferently. I do my own research and question what I learn. With that said, I get frustrated when readings expect the audience to just accept what it has been told.
When I try to read academic texts for homework, I can't help but stop at biased sounding words. I hate when a scholar makes a statement and does not back it up with statistical information--although that's pretty biased as well--or some sort of primary research. Hypocritically, I will not give an example of this because I'm absolutely terrified of being accused of plagarism. (But that's a rant for another day when I have something to drink and some food to snack on in the middle of a typhoon.) Yet, I can say that words like, "many," "a few," and "some" do not necessarily carry the weight of an actual numerical value or measurement. If you say 75 out of 10 people like carrots over onions, then I will understand many, or 5 out of 110 a few, etc. While these vague expressions of value are easy for the reader to comprehend, I view it as lazy research, and it completely turns me off form an interesting essay. It bothers me that professional writers and researchers would use these terms when resources and research are available as back up.
About seven times out of ten, I find myself arguing with my homework. I grumble, I mark nasty things in paper, and grit my teeth the rest of the way through the reading. I can't say this never happened at home, but perhaps it's because the classes I'm taking are about culture. Bias is a difficult thing to take out of a paper, but I was taught that a good paper lacks bias. (Unless, of course, the author is aiming to persuade the audience with a biased essay--which my homework is not--then that's okay.)
Of course, I argue with myself as well. The homework that makes me so irritated is homework for the Intercultural Communication and Psychology course as well as the class for Japanese Culture. Both are taught in English with a mixture of exchange students and Japanese students. Both classes focus on discussion and controversial topics where Western and Eastern culture may collide.
Is it possible to take bias out of such classrooms?
My initial answer to this question is, "No, of course not," but there is part of me that wants to say, "Why can't we say, 'Yes?'"
While I don't necessarily think it's bad hindering, I've come to realize that while I absorb a majority of the information I hear, read, practice, etc., I do not necessarily accept or agree with all of it as fact. I've often wondered why I am a Literature major. It was not my first choice, but one of necessity and frustration with the bureaucracy of my home university. It's unfair for me to say that the relationship I have with my major is one of hate; there's some love (somewhere) in there, too.
But back to what I started writing about: Hinderances.
When I was in highschool, I was asked to read 1984 by George Orwell, and that novel scared the living shit out of me. Ever since then, I cannot bring myself to just accept information indifferently. I do my own research and question what I learn. With that said, I get frustrated when readings expect the audience to just accept what it has been told.
When I try to read academic texts for homework, I can't help but stop at biased sounding words. I hate when a scholar makes a statement and does not back it up with statistical information--although that's pretty biased as well--or some sort of primary research. Hypocritically, I will not give an example of this because I'm absolutely terrified of being accused of plagarism. (But that's a rant for another day when I have something to drink and some food to snack on in the middle of a typhoon.) Yet, I can say that words like, "many," "a few," and "some" do not necessarily carry the weight of an actual numerical value or measurement. If you say 75 out of 10 people like carrots over onions, then I will understand many, or 5 out of 110 a few, etc. While these vague expressions of value are easy for the reader to comprehend, I view it as lazy research, and it completely turns me off form an interesting essay. It bothers me that professional writers and researchers would use these terms when resources and research are available as back up.
About seven times out of ten, I find myself arguing with my homework. I grumble, I mark nasty things in paper, and grit my teeth the rest of the way through the reading. I can't say this never happened at home, but perhaps it's because the classes I'm taking are about culture. Bias is a difficult thing to take out of a paper, but I was taught that a good paper lacks bias. (Unless, of course, the author is aiming to persuade the audience with a biased essay--which my homework is not--then that's okay.)
Of course, I argue with myself as well. The homework that makes me so irritated is homework for the Intercultural Communication and Psychology course as well as the class for Japanese Culture. Both are taught in English with a mixture of exchange students and Japanese students. Both classes focus on discussion and controversial topics where Western and Eastern culture may collide.
Is it possible to take bias out of such classrooms?
My initial answer to this question is, "No, of course not," but there is part of me that wants to say, "Why can't we say, 'Yes?'"
Headaches
I've found myself craving low-volume music in a muted room, comfortable temperatures, and homework. About ten minutes ago, this seemed plausible: A dog in my hallway finally stopped whining after his master came home, my green tea latte cooled off to a drinkable temperature, and it was cool enough to study and stay awake. Then came the headache.
I guess that's what I get for napping on the floor earlier.
Part of me wants to make up some crazy psycho-physiological explanation as to why I get a headache every time I intend to do homework. Perhaps I get a headache only because I think I have one, or I try to find a way out of homework subconsciously, so a headache arises as a solution to my problem. It could be the weather, or it could be how I sleep at night. Whatever it is is annoying, and I want ti to stop.
Tomorrow is the first day that I will walk to school from my apartment. Depending on how that excursion goes, i will decide what will be my best mode of transportation from this point forward. I will either be walking to school on days when I get out early or the weather is good, I will bike to school every day and be a master-rider by the time I return home, or I will buy a bus pass and have unlimited access to basically all of Kyoto.
I guess it's time to do at least a little homework before I go to bed. Time to follow up on what I want to do! Serious student, here I come!
I guess that's what I get for napping on the floor earlier.
Part of me wants to make up some crazy psycho-physiological explanation as to why I get a headache every time I intend to do homework. Perhaps I get a headache only because I think I have one, or I try to find a way out of homework subconsciously, so a headache arises as a solution to my problem. It could be the weather, or it could be how I sleep at night. Whatever it is is annoying, and I want ti to stop.
Tomorrow is the first day that I will walk to school from my apartment. Depending on how that excursion goes, i will decide what will be my best mode of transportation from this point forward. I will either be walking to school on days when I get out early or the weather is good, I will bike to school every day and be a master-rider by the time I return home, or I will buy a bus pass and have unlimited access to basically all of Kyoto.
I guess it's time to do at least a little homework before I go to bed. Time to follow up on what I want to do! Serious student, here I come!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Good Food and Rainy Days
I think rain is one of the worst things for exchange students. At a school like Ritsumeikan, you don't get many days off for random holidays. Even national holidays are spent in the classroom. While it doesn't bother me too much, I feel like all of the other exchange students are bothered by this much more. Being at school usually gives me something to do, and although I enjoy sitting around, surfing the web, and spending my time relaxing, I'd much rather be at school learning something I can use.
I've found that rainy days can be quite productive. Japanese storms are much softer than the storms back home in Texas, so instead of hiding in fear of thunder, lightening, and tornadoes, I usually take a stroll outside when it rains. Today, I was fortunate enough to go with a group from school, Colorful, to make Japanese food. The day started off cloudy, but as soon as all of the exchange students and Japanese students saw each other, it seemed as if all of us were on a summer break in the middle of Autumn. It was so much fun just to relax with everyone. We shopped for groceries together, prepared the food together, and made enough that we could all take some home.
(These pictures were taken by my friend, Laura.)
I was also relieved to finally use my Japanese again. While it's not a bad thing, I haven't been sticking to my rule about speaking in Japanese to my Japanese friends everyday. Today was motivation for me to use my second language more often, and to study a bit more seriously than I was these past two weeks. Of course, while my inner-procrastinator is telling me that this will start from tomorrow after a good night of rest, I would really like to take my studying more seriously from this point forward.
I forget how much fun I have when speaking Japanese At home, I'm hot-tempered when it comes to criticism, and I hate failure. here, failure is fun and exciting. I want to learn new things, so I smile when I'm criticized, and I find myself being unafraid to ask, "I'm sorry, could you say that again?" or, "Could you please teach me how to . . . " I want to start having food parties just so i can spend time with my friends. It's amazing how food and language can bring people of different backgrounds together.
It's even more amazing that twenty hungry college students couldn't finish all of the food that was made.
However, I'm also discovering that there is a side of me striving to be physically active. I've never really understood why people want to jog at four in the morning, run on a treadmill, or why my boyfriend was so upset when he wasn't able to find a gym. I am waling more in one day in Japan than I would have in about two days in the States. (Sad, but true.) It feels like the more I walk, the more active I want to become. I can't wait until the next Aikido Practice--although I'm very nervous--and I want to buy a bicycle so I won't have to rely on public transportation, but more so for the exercise. But even more so, I really want to run.
The only time that I can remember wanting to run was in high school. I think this was because I was finding myself, and I didn't know where to find it. Instead of looking inward, I wanted to run to a new place and discover everything that I could. But this feels different. I don't feel like this is wanderlust. I feel like this is a part of me that has been submerged. I feel like years of not playing a music instrument or participating in sports daily have finally caught up with me. I want to run and feel the wind cutting though me. I miss the metallic taste of Autumn and Winter air at six in the morning before basketball practice. I miss the weather outside. I just want to go!
「星に願いを」
And I find myself listening to this more and more. The title "Hoshi ni Negai wo" translates to "A Wish Upon a Star." But the transition into the chorus, "Ikanakucha" translates into:
I have to go.
I've found that rainy days can be quite productive. Japanese storms are much softer than the storms back home in Texas, so instead of hiding in fear of thunder, lightening, and tornadoes, I usually take a stroll outside when it rains. Today, I was fortunate enough to go with a group from school, Colorful, to make Japanese food. The day started off cloudy, but as soon as all of the exchange students and Japanese students saw each other, it seemed as if all of us were on a summer break in the middle of Autumn. It was so much fun just to relax with everyone. We shopped for groceries together, prepared the food together, and made enough that we could all take some home.
I was also relieved to finally use my Japanese again. While it's not a bad thing, I haven't been sticking to my rule about speaking in Japanese to my Japanese friends everyday. Today was motivation for me to use my second language more often, and to study a bit more seriously than I was these past two weeks. Of course, while my inner-procrastinator is telling me that this will start from tomorrow after a good night of rest, I would really like to take my studying more seriously from this point forward.
I forget how much fun I have when speaking Japanese At home, I'm hot-tempered when it comes to criticism, and I hate failure. here, failure is fun and exciting. I want to learn new things, so I smile when I'm criticized, and I find myself being unafraid to ask, "I'm sorry, could you say that again?" or, "Could you please teach me how to . . . " I want to start having food parties just so i can spend time with my friends. It's amazing how food and language can bring people of different backgrounds together.
It's even more amazing that twenty hungry college students couldn't finish all of the food that was made.
However, I'm also discovering that there is a side of me striving to be physically active. I've never really understood why people want to jog at four in the morning, run on a treadmill, or why my boyfriend was so upset when he wasn't able to find a gym. I am waling more in one day in Japan than I would have in about two days in the States. (Sad, but true.) It feels like the more I walk, the more active I want to become. I can't wait until the next Aikido Practice--although I'm very nervous--and I want to buy a bicycle so I won't have to rely on public transportation, but more so for the exercise. But even more so, I really want to run.
The only time that I can remember wanting to run was in high school. I think this was because I was finding myself, and I didn't know where to find it. Instead of looking inward, I wanted to run to a new place and discover everything that I could. But this feels different. I don't feel like this is wanderlust. I feel like this is a part of me that has been submerged. I feel like years of not playing a music instrument or participating in sports daily have finally caught up with me. I want to run and feel the wind cutting though me. I miss the metallic taste of Autumn and Winter air at six in the morning before basketball practice. I miss the weather outside. I just want to go!
「星に願いを」
And I find myself listening to this more and more. The title "Hoshi ni Negai wo" translates to "A Wish Upon a Star." But the transition into the chorus, "Ikanakucha" translates into:
I have to go.
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