I took the 3rd level Japanese proficiency test (日本語力試験三級) back in December. It was first time that I really seriously studied Japanese, the first time in years that I studied any subject intensely. And it was nice to know that I still had some self-motivation left in my weathered brain. And I passed, a small accomplishment. Perhaps I’m just good at taking multiple choice test, the 25% odds aren’t too bad, give yourself some “Life Lines” with a bit of preemptive studying and you got around 65-85% chance of success.

And what does passing Level 3 of a Japanese proficiency test mean? Well from one friend, it means that I can talk as well as his 5 year old daughter. But small battles here and there, small conversational subjects to add to a growing check list, and another level to prepare for. And if I can pass Level 2 in the near future one of my goals for living in Japan will be accomplished and perhaps the next step in my traveling and being an ex-pat will be a possibility. For now I’ll just try to understand the jokes that thrown at me by the old P.E. teacher at Nonodake JHS.

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Kanji: I like it. It fascinates and baffles. And I enjoy studying it. Recreating the shapes is different from handwriting, its more a creative process of joining lines in the proper order in order to make some recognizable pattern, kinda like drawing Doraemon’s face.

And sometimes I think my zeal for wanting to learn kanji is caused by the French. Vietnam’s colonizer, pillager, and ancient script remover. For there was a time when Vietnamese people had their own written language, something akin to Chinese characters, but it was tragically expelled from the writing system. Because you see, if you can tame a nation’s language, manipulate and control it, then you have an easier means to make the people docile. If you make a language more readable it paves the way for administrative control, smooths the lines for subordinating, and brings familiarity to the conqueror and the ensuing traffic of tourist. Most tourist like a semblance of the familiar when they travel, a notion that their own country is somehow linked with this one, either through borrowed food, tradition or language features.

So in my futile attempt to battle the linguistic wars of the past I will attempt to learn another country’s ancient script and regain a part of me lost in a war of languages and tongues.

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Besides, kanji reminds me of the spellcasting systems in old RPG games. Take an elemental magic, fire 火 and then throw some wood on top of it 焚 and then you got a burning fire spell. Want to create a forest, take some trees 木, add some more and then you have a forest 森. You can make water spells and love spells, spells to build or destroy, its all there in your spellbook of kanji. And the good thing is there’s no MP (magic points) to use up. Its like being a magic user on crack. Zoinks.

I look upon my generation with a growing ambivalence. A generation of lost youths, displaced by technology and the controlled world that our parents had given us. A wandering, lustful group of people that dream of the next locale and the next adventure, lost within their hazy minds their true purpose, with dreams of the future lost in the pains of their past.

And I envy the ones that take the leap, that jump into the waters of a new ocean without trepidation, without looking back or without care for their obligations. Sometimes I give sordid looks to the ones that have put their debts in their pockets and in the souls of their unborn children. That somehow those deficits will be repaid by another unwilling donor.

One glorious day all this wandering will come back to haunt us all. As the world and state crumble around us, we will lose the ability to raise ourselves up, and instead flee to the next destination on an itinerary of escape. God help us all :)

Yesterday was a glorious, unusually warm winter day in Japan. The sun shone brightly and my soul matched its warmth. Today, Friday the 13th, the weather is back to cold and dreary and so are my spirits. The pain of everything is sweeping over me again and I can’t seem to shake it this time.

And here, I can’t break down, here I have obligations and duties that need to be finished. Here the sorrow is unforgiving and the anguish is crippling. Just a few more hours and I can spiral away into the darkness by myself.

I’ve been soaring and crashing all week long and I don’t know when it’ll stop but I guess hurricanes have a way of doing that to a person. And even though I’ve readied myself for this storm, I don’t think I’m strong enough to battle it on my own this time.

He kept slipping, sinking to depths I never experienced. It was the first time I knew of such things. And he would disappear, flickering in and out of the night like a drunken imp. Happy and celebratory at times, violent and quick tempered at other instances. The imp’s voice was unrecognizable but there were signs that he was still with me. I tried to pull him back, I spent my energies trying to make the trans-possession leave him . I was the hub that night that kept all the forces of the world connected to him and eventually he slumbered, deep in the bowels of his demons.

And now I’m the one slipping…

I’m not quite back from Singapore and Bali. The pictures aren’t up on Flickr. Luggage stored away, presents given out, but my heart and soul haven’t been unpacked.

I gain a lot from my experiences while traveling and I left behind some trinkets and unnecessary baggage. I received an unexpected present from a new friend, gave an old pair of shoes to a new cousin, bought promised gifts from a lady on the beach, lost a irreplaceable pocket knife, gained unconditional kindness from a people who I knew nothing about before, and lost a great burden that’s been resting on my chest for too long. I gained new insights into old friendships and strengthened bonds on a new lifelong friendship. My old energy flooded back to me and the darkness of the winter seemed to lift.

I left with many great memories and returned with stomach issues. Hey you can’t make eggs without cracking an egg or three.

It always happens to me in the school gym, with every teacher and every student sitting or standing around, while ceremonious rituals occur, students and teachers playing their parts, I start sinking slowly into the abyss. Cold cement walls trap in the cold, and cold cement hearts share no warmth. And I stood this time apart from the frost, a spectator in this lifeless ceremony and I watched the spirit drain out of me again. In front of everyone, surrounded by the young of heart and the heartless is where I felt the loneliest.

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But I’m going to Singapore and Bali tomorrow so Yippee! Sun and beach and tans and hot bodies and good friends. What more could I ask for now? Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone. Be merry and safe this winter and enjoy the little blessings in life, the small tokens of joy that give us sustenance even through the bleakest of times. Amen!