When I was studying abroad, I found myself writing on a blog all the time. Retrospectively, I think this had more to do with my preferred method of immortalizing the memory, a way to fully explain and express the experiences that were shaping me at the time. A blog let me capture the memories as best as words can describe them, and to contemplate those memories and what they meant to me. These days, with easy access to photography via my cellphone, I find myself prone to capturing moments with a quick snapshot and a caption, or not capturing them at all. My urge to write about Japan has been saved for entries in a paper journal that I began when I arrived in the Philippines at the start of this year. So other than a long trail of Instagram photos, there’s been no real catalog of my experience here, save what people interpret through images I’ve shared.
And here I am, passing the six month mark, with no blog entries to show for it.
That’s simply the way things went. I have no readers to please or motives to fulfill. This was always meant to be a small blip of internet real estate preserved for an outpouring of thoughts or observations. No expectations. Out of curiosity I happened to navigate back to this lonesome blog. Seeing the personal significance of Six Months in Japan, it seemed like a good time to say hello, if only to my future self.
Future Self: I’d like to know what you’ll think about all of this in retrospection. You never anticipated coming to Japan. You only vaguely understood what you were signing up for when you joined with ABC Plus. You’ve slowly developed a wobbly knack for teaching. Your greatest struggle has been the hardships put upon the heart in maintaining a long distance relationship with Nikki. Future Self: I can only pray and wish and hope that all your current love for and wants and desires to be with Nikki for the rest of your lives are still palpable and within reach. If you survive Japan, you can survive anything. Next stop: Mexico.
But what about Japan? As much as I strive to be present, there is an ever-present resilience to immersing myself in this country. I enjoy many aspects of this country. The faults I see are obscure cultural habits of a culture I have no right to judge, and thus rarely concern myself with. This is a place of comfort, safety, and convenience, but no country is perfect. I’d rather live here than in the USA, though I know that “here” is no quite home. I’m meant for somewhere else, somewhere with Nikki. Somewhere consistently warm and relaxed.
Anyway. Six Months. I’m halfway there.