Bags are packed and shipped off to Narita. In about two days, I’ll be on a plane back to America. Back for another friend’s wedding, with presents from Japan. And once again I’ll unpack and unload my belongings and myself onto home soil. It’ll be a short rift in my life here in Japan, and a way to reconnect to things that I’ve neglected, left behind. A chance to figure out what’s important and then what’s next for me. See you all soon.
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…
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!
The winter’s creeping up on me. Stalking me in my shadows. And like the dementor’s kiss, its slowly draining the happiness and energy out of me (been reading Harry Potter again). I don’t talk about this much, this seasonal depression that I get, but I’ll tell you a story as a way for people to understand what afflicts me and so you can understand the mind of the crestfallen, sullen.
During the winter semester of my sophomore year in college I fell into the abyss. It felt like there was no warmth in this world, that the joy and pleasures of life ceased to exist. And so I would lay inanimate on our huge sofa and stare distantly past the television set. I wanted to drop out of school, I wanted to go far far away so I could let the darkness consume me, away from the people I cared about and away from the irregular pressures of life.
But instead I battled through the cold and dismal months of winter and decided to take a solo road trip during Spring Break up to Seattle. One man and a car driving up the windy roads of Pacific Coast 1, stopping at friends known and random to sleep, eating at fast food diners, all the while figuring out what the hell I was going to do and what I was really searching for.
When I got there, there was a strange awkward encounter with someone who helped show me a different view of this world. After lunch and goodbyes, I was leaving Seattle after staying only half a day. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the city, I had just found what I needed, a way to relieve some of the pressure that was building up in my system. And I never talked to that person again but I’m sure that there was an understanding between a pupil and his teacher, between a boy that had yet to live his life and a well worn traveler.
I returned home after a few more detours and a speeding ticket on highway 101. And when I got back to the regular world, I was stronger in spirit as if my soul had rushed back into me and the void was closed behind me.
Looking back at that moment in my life, I can see a lot of the mistakes that I made. I allowed myself to slip too deep into the darkness, I was passive against the waves of depression, and I didn’t let anyone else really understand what was going on inside of me. I pushed away the people that could help me and ruined some friendships that meant a lot to me at the time. But the winters after the darkness went unnoticed because I was already consumed with other matters, political organizations and romances, that distracted me from the shadows that loomed over me.
So now I am ready. Ready to face the onslaught of the dreary road ahead of me. I have allies near and far, experience and knowledge of what afflicts me, and the will to do the right thing for myself now.
I’ve recently realized that there’s a disparity in the organization of my life. All the time I spend on my computer, organizing files and streamlining my workflow, has made my computing prowess a force to be reckoned with. But the rest of my life has been left in the dust.
File Systems Organization and Application Launching shortcuts have been a boon to my computing time, but there’s nothing like that outside of the “box”. I spend hours on cleaning, making materials for classes, or just lazing the days away. Goals and dreams have been slowly rotting on the shelf.
I have my “Nerd Task” to-do list but my daily to-do list seems paltry to the queue that includes: “1. Install bootable linux on usb drive. 2. Build NAS server. 3. Evaluate the merits of PSP/iPod Touch etc…”.
Its time for a little refresh. And as the creeping of Fall inches toward Winter, with my spirits and mood waning with the incremental decrease in light, I have to figure out a way out of the “rut” that I’ve built around me. There’s a need for me to set into motion a plan to transform the way I live life again.
But my worst fear is stalking me in the distance, the fear that I’ll grow old here before I really ever grow up.
It was a long tiring weekend. So I went where I usually go in order to relieve aching muscles and tensed nerves in Japan, the local onsen (hot spring spa). There I sat in different pools of water, Goldilock-like in my pursuit of the perfect pool. “No, not this one, it’s too hot. And no, not this one, its freezing cold”. When I settled on the reclining pool with the jets that gently massage your feet, I happened to see something peculiar.
There was a small green frog, precariously dangling on the top of the window. He was outside and it was a two story building. Somehow he had managed to get his right hand caught on the web of a spider. He spun and writhed as he tried to free himself from the web.
Let’s call him Joey, Joey the tree frog. How he got there in the first place, I have no idea. He must have been the son of a noble tree frog king in Africa, a king that was exiled from his land. With the king’s prospects and honor dashed away, he died a broken visage of his former self, spiraling fast into the abyss with dreams of ascending to the throne once more.
In the shadow of the hopes that eluded him, Joey traveled abroad searching for answers for himself, seeking a new life and a new destiny. With aspirations fit for a prince, he managed to climb to the top of the onsen and possibly steal an ensnared fly from the grips of the spider’s web. But his ambitions were too lofty, thought he was the bull frog of the jungle. There, hanging by a thread he desperately fought, wasting away his energy, trying in vain to escape. But his struggle for freedom would also mean the imminent possibility a worst fate. His fall from the top of the window would send him careening down to the hard depths below.
I left the onsen. I don’t know what happened to Joey. My body was soothed, my fingers little dried fruits, and my questions unsolved.
I was a little shaken up this weekend. There was an earthquake but there were a few other things that shook my foundation.
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I came to say goodbye. Maybe for the last time. Wasn’t sure really how it would go. But I ended up saying hello to something new, a new start to an old beginning. A fresh start on something that has been so important to me for a great stretch of my adult life. And maybe now I can start forgiving myself for the things that I’ve done and let go of the weight thats been troubling me for too long. And maybe we can begin to rebuild again.
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It was a Tokyo weekend. It was the first time rolling out with some friends from my area. I usual had my own personal business to handle in Tokyo before so I always went solo. Tokyo was my escape from the regular grind of life, to disconnect myself for awhile but this time it was about connecting with some great friends. Over the weekend, I ran into some old faces as well and after a long weekend of partying and shopping its good to know who your homies are in the end. Thanks for the weekend guys.
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There was an earthquake in North Honshu this weekend on Saturday at 8:45 in the morning. It was located in the prefecture above me, Iwate-ken. The earthquake registered a 7.2 on the richter scale at the epicenter but it was only a 5 in my town. I was safely in Tokyo after taking an overnight bus but my other friends couldn’t get out to the capital because the train lines were all shut down in Miyagi. The text messages started coming in, “are you ok?”, “daijoubu desu ka?. Neighbors, colleagues, and friends contacted me to make sure everything was ok. I rang my neighbor to make sure our apartment was intact. Everything was fine. I got back to my apartment Sunday afternoon and there was little change. Some minor belongings had fallen to the ground but nothing was broken. But my friends up in Kurihara had more of mess to clean up at their apartments and some mudslides to deal with.
There’s suppose to be another large earthquake that’s going to hit the region soon, like in a few days on a different fault line. And everyone is scrambling to get ready for it. Earthquake kits, emergency plans, etc … Earthquakes have always been a apart of my life since living in California. And they’ve always represented the fear of the unexpected, those sudden moments in life where you have to act and react. I guess growing up being from a Third Word country you accept the fact that major disasters can strike at anytime, anywhere and that its a part of life. I never truly believed in absolute security and so I’ve always been preparing myself for disasters mentally and physically. And in the end all I can think to do is just relax and let the small tremors in my own heart settle down first.
I’m old school. I grew up in a time before computers and digital communication dominated the conversation landscape. A time when every teenage fought with his siblings for the right to use the phone, knives brandished and extension cord whips drawn. A time before text messages and chatting made the sound of someone’s voice a luxury.
I use to talk on the phone for hours. Conversations that started after dinner would go on until the sun came around and reminded me that I needed some sleep. (I think my longest conversation was something like 10 hours). Marathon sessions talking about every day events, about dreams and the future, about the hope of a love stronger than words could capture, and about the connections of two individuals disconnected by the distance of geography. Talking was my connection to the soul and I continued these conversations until the digital divide created a fissure in our lives.
Now in Japan, where phone calls are expensive and face to face conversations are precious I’ve relied on chatting and emails to keep me connected to friends at home and those separated by shinkansen tracks. Thank god for Skype or I couldn’t hear the sweet sound of my mother’s voice or the laughter of my friends, instead of the LOL or HAHA’s of instant messaging. Call me, I always want to talk.
It was sort of a strange night and then I saw a message of distress from across the Internet. So I reached out and hopefully averted a tragic event. Its sometimes amazing how souls can touch through bits and electricity and lend helping hands and soothing words. And hopefully a beautiful lost soul can find its feet and the strength to find happiness again. Goodbye and good luck …