When I feel it

The big debate.  Do I stay here for 1 year or two?  I've thought for the past week or so, definitely two,  I could kick it here and visit Kyoto and just take it all in.  But when I announced the news to my father via email last night, I couldn't sleep.  I had an anxiety attack instead.  What would I do my second year?  The first year is all planned out.  Thailand for Christmas, India for spring break, see some family in the summer...then...stay and save money?  I could make $4800 of "free" money if I just take my checks and put them in the bank (cough)pay back my credit cards.

But I just couldn't see what I would do the second year.  Stay here, teach and ....live?

I guess the big question (to the "big" debate) is why not?  Immediately there are about 5 faces squishing their way through my brain, almost out of my eyeballs and onto my lap.

Mom, Katie, Kara, Dad and Gabby.

And then, Josie and Alice my cats.  And then my developing furniture company Kiss my Sass.  And my career, whatever that means.

So what would I do if I got home next year?  Traveled, saw the world and moved home?

What would happen if I stayed here another year and then moved home?  The answer I suppose lies in, what's next?  Originally, I thought the answer was in the question...am I one of those people that lives close to home her (relatively) whole life or can I separate and find a home afar?  Plug for Skype - if I didn't have it I would be home right now.  

What's next.  Brett Dennon is in the background and he says, "when you feel it you know".  Talk about timing.  I think I will marinate on that for the day...maybe a bit longer and, when I feel it, I'll know.

I need a beer!

I am grateful for Fridays and beer and that hair grows back.  I am grateful for fried shrimp, sushi and America's Next Top Model.  There is no better day than today.  

I was dreading school this morning on the brink of a panic attack as to why I moved to this country that I know nothing about and who knows nothing about me.  But I realized I was just stressed out because I was going to get my "bangs trimmed" tonight after school and I was nervous because I was going to a place I'd never been to with one of my (favorite) coworkers...who doesn't speak English.  And if you know me, you will know I'm very very very very very particular about my hair.  I was preparing for the worst.

I get to school and the rain comes.  Sheets of rain pouring down, which is great for 2 reasons and shitty for so many others.  It is great because it might just kill that fucking ugly ass GIGANTIC spider that lives outside my front door - waiting to eat me.  Also, the rain reminds me of home.  On the other hand, the rain sucks balls because....it reminds me of home and makes me involuntarily homesick, and I have to ride my fucking bike in it - sans umbrella.  But whatever...this conundrum also amuses me to no end.  After the first period of me sitting at my desk writing Kimmie a letter, the thunder comes.  It sounds so close I'm sure I felt the room shake...more fun.  I am envisioning my solo "teacher's" bicycle outside the side door getting drenched and how soggy my ass will get to have to sit on the puddle that is a bicycle seat.  But I move to 1 of 3 computers in the teachers office to check my email.  My previous blog was a bit over the top so I had to see if there were any comments.  Probably best if there wasn't.  

To my surprise, I find Ms. Amy Phillips on gmail!  We chat for about 30 minutes or so and I felt like it was a real conversation.  We typed at the same time, we LOL'd at the same timed and HAHAHAHAHAH'd at the same time and even talked about Macy's big belly at the same time.  It felt good to be in sync.  Plus, I love her soooooooooooooo much she is my inspiration and reason for living so I was happier than a fly on shit to see her name marked available!  Her Jeffy got home and my teachers were getting restless so I let her go and went to sit solemnly at my desk.  I think it must bother the other teachers that I have nothing to do, when they are back and forth and in and out busy all the time.  So I sat.  I have started a vocabulary list from the book I'm reading: Love in the time of Cholera...good book.  So I was studying my English words.  YAY me...revolt against the culture you live in! 

well...I was also sitting there hoping - all the fruit flies in my apartment would die! (sidenote) and that I wouldn't have to stand in front of the whole classroom today. I much preferred face to face time when I was helping my girls with their speeches.  I packed up and headed to the first of 4 classes today.  It was a fucking miracle...today I was going to sit in the library and have the students read to me 1 at a time ;)  Yay!  there is a god.

So I did that for 2 classes....by then I was starving.  What was for lunch?  Another egg stuffed fish with a face?  Please no!  When I arrived at my desk there was....fried chicken...no shit.  Japanese fried style but fried none the less.  What a great day.

My last 2 classes were sorta....off.  I wasn't as prepared as I should have been for either of them and my last class had the same kid in it who strangled another student and kicked over a girls desk last I saw him.  Today he decided to wail on the poor chubby 12 year old in class until he was crying.  And no, nothing happened to the mean kid.  Nothing ever does.  They "discipline" their students different here.  They just don't.  I got back to the teachers office in time for cleaning.  The students have to clean the school for 15 minutes at the end of the day and today I was ready for them.  I was tired, I didn't help clean, I pointed out where they needed to do more and made them talk to me in English.  I was a bad ass and felt kinda like a teacher.  When they left I high "touched" one of the (unsuspecting) teachers and stated proudly, "I need a beer!"

How strange it felt to feel something so familiar.  I was almost giddy that my entire body was in agreement.  But first I had to get my hair cut.

I raced home and changed into something more comfortable (which wasn't as it turned out because they don't do boobs here and most of my tops do) but whatever.  So I met my coworker Iho Sensei at the station in Adogawa.  We were driving to TOPS.  Iho sensei brought her English dictionary and I brought my pseudo Japanese dictionary.  It looks huge but has large font so no words of use as it turns out.  The first word I tried to look up was cool....because the salon was actually pretty dope.   Did I take pictures? no...I have a fear of looking like a tourist.  But the word cool actually means cold so fuck...fortunately after about 5 minutes of acting, I remembered the word ---  sugoi (sue-go-e)  and she looked it up and sure enough it meant wonderful.  So we jumped out of the van and into TOPS.

They took me to the shampoo station.  A cloth was placed over my face (geniuses) while they massaged and shampooed for about 15 minutes.  Then, more massage at the cutting station itself.  The hair cut was described as - trim it, bangs shaggy (stylist's word - awesome) A-line (curses I'll never get anywhere beyond that fucking A-line - I'm sorry I ever left you Jennifer).  Then she began to cut.  And as usual I hated it.  But she kept cutting.  And cutting.  I knew I shouldn't have got the whole thing cut.  Every time I want to grow it out...I need a trim which turns into a cut.  DAMN IT.  But after the cut there was more shampooing.  What the fuck ever I thought...it couldn't get any worse.  I was just going to enjoy the fact that a man's hands were touching me.  So I was relaxed for just a bit.  More massage and back to the chair for more massage...I could get used to that.  Iho is looking up words and phrases and is being such a great friend chatting about hair and salons in America and such and she is just so cute and wonderful.  My new boyfriend is now blow drying my hair.  And as he is so gently rolling out every section my hair transforms into something almost cute.  Yes.  cute.  He adds a bit of waxy gel to the top and the woman who cut it sprays it.  And, what do you know it's not half bad.  I was even asked to come back and be a hair model! 

      

The transformation into a Japanese person is well on it's way.

Now it's time for a beer!  

Right where I'm suppose to be

I've always felt like a...loner.  Someone should really think up a new name for that.  It sounds so early 80's.  Well, for lack of a better word, I have felt separate from any crowd.  Don't get me wrong, I have lots of great friends who i spend a lot of time with.   Sometimes scheduled time, sometimes spontaneous and it is with friends, but when I'm alone I often feel alone.  Is it this way with everyone in temporary moments of solitude?  To feel unacknowledgable?  

When I was in Portland I spent a great deal of time wondering if anyone was thinking about me.  To my friends, I was constantly busy.  To myself, I was constantly busy.  I barely had time to think in between social events, dating and dance or art, but I liked it that way.  There were less things to worry about when I was busy - like who is going to love me?  The more I was out, the more I felt like I was giving myself the opportunity to meet people, meet him, whoever he was.  But alas,  my endless stream of dating got me wanting to leave the country.  So I did.

But the point of this story is that as I sit here in my apartment in Japan, after having watched When Harry Met Sally and Steel Magnolias (sorry Sarah!) I find myself starting to wonder why I have this same feeling...why am I alone?  Even after canceling plans TONIGHT to watch Heroes with friends or other opportunities to pick up the phone....I still have this feeling.  Does everyone?  

It seems ridiculous to me.  Maybe because I'm PMSing and everything is introspective or I'm not eating enough red meat or I'm missing my family or I am tired of my art projects and cleaning and internets to the point I am left to my thoughts.  (Sarah would say this is self inflicted from tormenting myself with fictional sob stories such as the movies previously listed) What's the use.  At least it wasn't The Notebook this time.

Can I blame my family for this?  My mother practically has my name on match.com as we speak!  And every man I meet is greeted by my sisters with the same enthusiasm and premonition...he's the one!  Bah!  Get out of my head!

Is is possible to just be alone.  I mean clearly because here I am.  In Japan, it's not like I'm hiding....necessarily.  I mean, I'm adventuring and learning about myself still.  I have ambitions and dreams I aspire to accomplish.  And it can be complete with all these things, even without a partner right?  Oy vey.

I do believe in love.  I've had it.  I know that it comes out of no where and when it is there, there's no denying it.  I am not afraid it doesn't exist, I suppose tonight I am just worn out from anticipation.  We'll call this a lull and I'll go eat some strawberry Pocky and be fine tomorrow.   I'll get my bangs cut and visit an art museum and I'll be surrounded by life.  I will be right where I'm suppose to be, doing exactly what this life has to offer and I'll love every second of it.  

And this question will come up again, but not for awhile.  I don't have to make heads or tails of it, because it is just a question, just a thought, like so many rolling around in my head.  If I knew the answer to this, I'd just be blogging about something else.  So for tonight I will revel in my inquisition and love that I am alive to think about it.

It's my birthday and stuff

Sept. 4th

Today I am 26 years old.  It just hit me.  Panic?  More like a ringing in my ears, a slight compressed sensation.  26.  In Japan.  Sure.  Why not?

Western Style, My Ass

Sept. 3rd :

I had an interesting experience today while trying to take a dump in the school bathroom.  It could be comparable to most of my experiences here in this foreign country thus far.

At first I wanted to be alone, so I waited for my moment of privacy.  I noticed the 2 sets of toilet shoes as my first clue that I was the only person in the bathroom.  I slipped a pair on knowing full well that should someone stumble into the bathroom my shoes would be a dead give away it was the American taking a dump.  But I was willing to chance it just in case someone came in and saw 2 toilet shoes but heard someone in the bathroom and thought, "eew, gross - potty shoes American!"  At least taking a crap is somewhat more universally forgivable. Perhaps 'potty shoes' is not so much.

So - I enter the "western" style stall.  My excitement for the familiar is quickly replaced with sadness and disappointment.  There is a toilet with a seat, yes, but the seat is wrapped with a terrycloth seat cover.  A moist terrycloth seat cover.  But a seat none the less so I take it.  I think it was the coffee that induced an urgency to the bathroom - DAMN than amazing caffeine rush in the morning!   

Double edged sword : No coffee - tired and slow through the day but no midday dumping. Delicious can of sweet cold coffee - life is great until 2:00 when public dumping is necessary.

Back to the imagery of me on the terrycloth toilet seat, my own little piece of Dante's Inferno.  I have gotten over the first few foreign obstacles but here is the test.  I begin my usual toilet session and things are moving along.  A ray of hope for a quick return into the office and avoiding public awkwardness.  No sooner am I enjoying this thought, my body betrays me.  I have no control and I don't know whatever gave me that idea.  It's stuck.  A moment of panic.  I can hear the kids in the hall.  What do I do?  Push? Reposition? I hear something!  Pinch? Pause?  At this point I'm playing tug of war with my butt.  

I know I am at no place to fully retreat so i bare down for my last desperate attempt to save myself from another experience of a cultural unknown...and the very familiar sting of humiliation.  I grab for the toilet paper which is housed in its own roll of terrycloth.  Embroidered on the terrycloth the words, four seasons.  I hope they are referring to the changing of the weather because this is sure as shit (pun intended) NOT the Four Seasons hotel I can tell you that.  

As I conclude my experience I leave the stall feeling slightly molested.  The floor is wet, the toilet seat is damp terrycloth and who knows where these toilet shoes have been before me?  I can only hope this experience will make me a stronger person and I will begin to feel anything close to optimism again.  Maybe tomorrow or maybe after I take a shower, when my body is mine again and not this foreign place's.

Co-dependence and Abandonment

September 2nd :

Left here like a helpless baby.  LUNCH? Ahem!? 

Nobody waits for people to eat here, they just begin their meals when they arrive.  And if engaging in a conversation about how the school lunches work it's perfectly acceptable for someone to interrupt without so much as an excuse me and then take the person I was talking to away -- even if I am desperately trying to figure out why I am alone in the staff room and if I'm suppose to help bring the lunches out and when I finally get to eat!

Possibly the funniest moment in my life - after a meager attempt to independently find lunch - with no success, I solemnly walk back into the office.  No one is here.  No one.  The only sound that can be heard is...crickets.  No joke.

Crickets, to mock my co dependence and abandonment.

 

Give it to me one more time

Back log : August 22nd (I guess I was trapped in an English speaking body in Japan)

"O" sensei laughed with his whole body when "S" sensei explained to me she didn't have the Japanese writing instruction book for "young kids".  O sensei chimes in, "young kid?  Young kid?" as it is often customary for Japanese people, trying to understand an English conversation, to do by repeating your last words (or maybe in every communication transaction between 2 foreign speakers).  He looked at me, at which moment I point to myself and said "young kid" to express it is I who needs children's books to help me with the writing order of Japanese letters.  

My simple gesture (and coy facial expression) seemed to trigger an attack of spasms all over his body as he threw his hands in the air and moved in every which way as he laughed.  More fluid then a jelly fish was his ability to move his whole body in opposite directions at once.  This laughter was unlike any I'd ever seen!  The spackling of his voice in the air to match, was child like as if he saw something he had never seen before and his reaction was purely physiological and involuntary.  I wish I could describe the sound of his laughter but I fall short by saying it was a contagious ringing of short burst of noise...worst analogy ever : like a ghost was tickling him.  yes.  A ghost.