With our demons settled, what have we left?

I think. I think a great deal. In fact, if ever you were to pose the question "what are you thinking about?" a response of "nothing" would likely be a lie. I can, perhaps, count on my two hands the number of times in my life I can remember finding myself in a moment where there was no thought at the forefront of my mind. Maybe thought isn't the proper word, though...maybe obsession is more befitting.

I have this recurring dream of what my mind would look like if made able to be observed. I see myself sitting and staring at a notebook, half filled with text, and my pencil stopped mid stroke. I have tripped over a work or idea that has sent my mind spinning into a torrent. above my head I can see a dark storm cloud that casts darkness over the entire room, obscuring and making invisible the room around me. This storm cloud begins with small flashes of lightning internally, but the flashes become brighter and more violent, some striking down past my head and singeing the paper to which my pencil was held. Lightning strikes around the room do nothing to lessen the obscurity of the room around, but rather, make it more difficult to see.

My face is without expression, save for the occasional flash of agony, as if surprised by a sudden pain. After many moments, the pencil that laid in stasis begins to move again, and the storm cloud begins to withdraw into itself. Smaller and smaller, it gets, until it has turned to less than half its normal size with few occasional internal lightning flashes appearing. It's as though I had sealed the storm by what I wrote down on the paper.

I have described above one of my demons, as it was in a dream. From time to time I will trip across a thought or idea that will spin and spin, consuming my entire mind as it goes. I will be unable to hear the voices of those around me, and the room itself that I am in may as well not exist. I will anguish over whatever this though be until a mental resolution is found...once I arrive at this resolution, I will write it down. This act of writing out the thought and the resolution is a way of making it all tangible, and thus, more easily handled. Some of these writings I keep because they are useful even after the paining thoughts have faded, and others will be thrown away.

I wonder what I would be without this and my other demons? I wonder if I would be the same person with the same wisdom and outlook. I wonder if I would have the same creativity and critical mind. We all are plagued and weighted with challenges, both tangible and otherwise. I think these things make us who we are, though. Who are the people remembered? The ones who never struggled? No. The ones who persevered over their pain, and those who took their demons into their command and used them to run ahead.

If you took an old man with thousands of stories and look at his history, then took away each conflict and hindrance, every demon, tell me what you would be left with? Someone far less amazing, I think.

I hate "good luck"

Please note the following: I have not proof read this. I am presently very very tired.

I hate "good luck." Please do not misunderstand, though. I'm merely stating an absolute hate for the phrase in order to sound more dramatic... also to lend myself a window for a digression later on...I suppose I can't make that digression now, though, since I've shown my tricks... I digress

Though I say "I hate 'good luck,'" the phrase "good luck" is actually an important social device in the English language. I believe it to be on par with asking someone how their day has, when you don't really, in fact, care how their day has been. "Good luck" can also be used in meaningful ways, I think. Predominantly, however, it's just something to say when you have nothing else.

All of that said, there are situations wherein the phrase "good luck" is a borderline insult (I understand that in intent, it's not, but just hear me out.)

A man is about to be heading into a law school entrance exam, which he has been studying for since 6 months prior. To tell this man "good luck" would be an insult to his preparation and intelligence. Luck won't have a damn thing to do with his passing that test with flying colors. There will be no one to thank but himself.

I am not making any claims that wishing someone good luck is by any means a bad thing. My point is just this: acknowledge someone when they've achieved something by their own labors. That person may not think twice about a simple "good luck," but I guarantee they will notice a complement of their strength and perseverance.

Basically, mix up your automatic phrases. People will notice when you've taken the time something new and break the obligatory script, and you will have made them feel prouder for it.

Half way

I left the Minneapolis International Airport 49 days ago. In 49 days, I'll be going back.

I'd be lying if I said that I haven't had bad moments of missing home and wanting to go home. I'd also be lying if I said I didn't feel on top of the world quite a bit. Unfortunately, there have been a great many instances of the former. So many so that I've been driven to keep a countdown of the days and weeks to my return home.

I Skyped home today, and I spoke with my parents. I quoted my time left to my dad, and he shared with me a piece of advice that has been written into vast library of his words that I have saved in my mind. "You're in Japan right now...in two months you won't be."

It struck me, that sentence. In 50 days, I will be sitting among my wonderful family, eating Christmas dinner, opening Christmas presents, and having some Christmas beers before heading outside to work on my car in a state of inebriated elation.

Until that time, I will be in a country 6,000 miles away in one of the greatest countries in the world, sleeping on a futon, taking classes from a a German, a Brit, an Indian, and a Japanese woman. I will be living off of rice, curry, gyoza, ramen, tonkatsu, and any number of other Japanese foods. I will be spending my time with one German, one Ecuadorian, two Norwegian, and 22 American students. All of whom come from drastically different cultural backgrounds.

Every day I will walk three and a half miles to and from school. This trip will cross the hypocenter of a nuclear bomb, and at least two other memorials to that tragedy. Along the way each day I will pass three pachinko parlors, four hair salons, one walmart, one toys r us, three McDonald's, two ramen shops, five gas stations, one Home Depot-esque thing, more convenience stores than I care to counts, and a matching number of other miscellaneous tiny mom n' pop shops.

I have listed so many things above, but in the timeline that will one day show my years from start to finish, this trip to Japan will be such a small portion of a much grander life. It will register as just a blip. It will be good to smile a little more, take deeper breaths, take shorter steps, and say hi a few more times each day.

They make it easier to breathe

Everyone lies. This is a common mantra popularized, I think, by Doctor House. Now while everyone lies, not everyone should be lied to.

It's work, you see, having to juggle the lies you tell. You forget who was told which lie and when you told them, and eventually a breaking point is reached. At that breaking point, there is a cliched crashing of things to the ground.

I have two people in this world that I tell everything. There's no reason to lie to them. Nothing would be gained.. In fact, I think a great deal would be lost. Trust is an idea that implies there is no need to worry. If I trust you, I won't feel the need to worry about you shooting me or spitting in my orange juice. Well, these two people are my black best friend (not to be confused with a best black friend, implying there are other non-black people that I like more) who has essentially become my brother, and my other best friend who has no readily distinguishing physical characteristics other than she's an attractive woman. Seeing as how I probably should not refer to her as my "attractive woman best friend," I think I'll just call her my best friend.

My brother and my best friend...two people with whom I can stop the juggling. Two people with whom I can laugh freely, and completely share who I am uncensored. I have been through a great deal of pain and back with both of them. I have fought many times with both of them. I've shared conversations with both of them that will be taken to our graves. I've shared laughter with both of them that no one else on planet earth would understand. With both Emma and Abel, there can be silence for hours, and the time still would not have been wasted.

In times when I cannot speak, they make it easier to breathe. In times where I cannot smile, they make it easier to laugh. In times where I cannot catch my breath, they make me laugh harder.

I'd have a tough time without those two. I don't know what I believe about God, but I sure as hell would like to thank him for these two people if he had anything to do with us meeting.

You'll notice that everything is going to be ok

I have a Japanese exam next week. During this Japanese exam, I will be tested on my knowledge of four chapters worth of grammar, vocabulary, and kanji (the pretty letters you see in Japanese text). To give you some perspective, back home in my Japanese class, I was tested on one chapter every three weeks. I am now being tested on four times the content in a quarter the time.

I was daunted by this task. Not for a vast incompetence for the Japanese language, mind you. In fact, upon close examination of each chapter, I've found that I am quite proficient with most every grammatical structure and vocabulary word. Why, then, was in such a state? Because last week, in one of the classes, I had a difficult time with two of the grammar forms. I still have a difficult time because, simply put, it's a lot to remember. However, these are only two forms out of twenty one that we have learned.

I was so hung up and overwhelmed with anxiety because of these two little sections, that I failed to notice that I understood 90% of the material.

Humans are filled with flaws. Humans are also filled with an innate desire to not be so. So, when we trip across a proverbial crack, we want to fix it. This is a fine trait, and an important one at that. A desire to be better is what drives us to altruism, innovation, and any number of other amazing things. In the run to becoming better, though, be ready to put away the magnifying glass, take a step back, and look at everything at once. You'll notice that you don't notice the little problems anymore...you'll notice that everything is going to be ok.

The things we do to pass the hours and oceans between ourselves and home

I've taken an interest, as of late, to making time seem like it's going faster than it is. I'm sure we've all done this and/or have this in practice today.

Perhaps you know what I'm talking about. Imagine, if you will, a man standing at a register. He has just begun his 8 hour shift, but he is in a good mood. You ask him why, and he says "it's only four hours to my break which is only two hours before I have to do inventory which is only an hour and a half before I get to count down the last 30 minutes of this shift."

I have taken to tricking myself into thinking home is closer than it is. In my planner, I have a countdown until my but will be on a train heading towards Fukuoka. The count is 61 days, or roughly 8 and a half weeks. 8 and a half weeks is a long time to wait. So, I've tricked myself. My planner's countdown is marked on the Monday of each new week. Originally I'd counted from 12 down to one....but I got wise. For me, the last three weeks I'm here will sail by, and so, I rewrote the count to start at 9 weeks. Presently, I only have 6 weeks left...6 weeks left until there's only 3 weeks to go, that is.

(I actually used to do the exact same thing when I was a kid to count down to Christmas. I always shaved off the last three days before Christmas Eve, I didn't count Christmas Eve, and I didn't count the day I was on. If you were to compare my countdown to anyone else's, you'd notice mine was 5 days light.)

I've also taken up some other habits to help bring some home to Japan. They include, but are not limited to, playing cribbage, Skyping home every week, exercising to pass the time, working on my book, and enjoying a beer with some laughs.

One may read this and think that I am in pain being abroad. This could not be farther from the truth. In fact, I am quite happy where I am at. This being said, I must admit, Dorothy was right...there truly is no place like home.

What's the point of writing all this? Is it to voice my broken mind that others may lament with me? Maybe it's to fish for people to come to me with sympathy? The answer is neither of these. While misery does love company, I am not so, and I quite simply can not stand pity parties. No, my point is that the mind will go to amazing lengths to feel at home, or at least feel that home is nearby. Mine is 61 days, or in short hand, 6 weeks away. Where's yours at?

Your voice changed

I'd known you when you were near. We'd gotten close, and we'd gotten to know each other well. Perhaps, if we'd stayed that way, so much more would have come of the spark between. But you moved far away, and I farther still. Letters and messages seldom can tell a whole story. Even a phone call falls short. You see, without your voice to tell your stories, and your smile before my eyes, you are not the same. From so far away, you look very different...your voice has changed.

I've found this above monologue to be pervasive throughout many types of interpersonal relationships. We grow fond of those we meet. Eventually we move past acquaintances to friends. Often, we find that these friends can be closer still, and they come to be best friends, or significant others. We learn who these people are, in our lives. We learn their mannerisms and talking habits, to varying degrees for each level of acquaintance. Best friends will be known better than buddies. 

I wonder if I'm unique in this problem...when I am away from a friend, however well I know them, they seem to change with distance and time. When apart, conversing through text (whether letter, Facebook, or cell phones), the little verbal tics and body language that I'm used to is missing. So, as I read, the voice in their texts, that I'm reciting in my mind, does not sound like them. In fact, they seem to be completely different at times. When the gap between us is closed again, however, it's like a breath of fresh air when I hear their voices coming from them. 

I have two best friends in this world, and I have those who are part of my family. After much practice, I have learned their personalities through and through. Whether that be on Skype, Facebook, text, or in a simple letter. Still though, even with such an extensive knowledge of these people, I still cannot emulate their voice without their presence. It quite simply isn't enough...something is missing and hollow. I do not know if it is truly the lack of body language in Skype, or the fact that my flawed human mind cannot replicate the complexity of another person. Maybe it's something even deeper? Something on the level of what some may call "spirituality." 

You, as a reader, may be bothered to find that this blog update has a frustrated purpose. Meaning, there really was no purpose other than to spark thought. If, though, I were to pull something out of what I've written as a moral of the story, I'd just say that friends are best in person.

It's a curious thing, boredom

To contest that I have nothing to do right now would be, put gently, wrong. This being said, if not for my spur of the moment decision to write a blog update, I would more than likely just be laid back on my thin futon (which is actually rated as a "3" thickness out of 6...it surprises me that these futons come thinner than the one I am presently planted on) watching a streaming video of Boondock Saints.

I do this myself, so please do not take this as a personal affront, or any other statement intended to mar any one person's character...I do not care for the constant connection of the word "bored" with the idea "I have nothing to do." Bored is defined by the Google dictionary as meaning "feeling weary because one is unoccupied or lacks interest in one's current activity." It says it right there: "because one is unoccupied." Not "because one is without something to do." Those are completely different ideas, and I sincerely believe that 99% of the time, what they truly mean is the latter part of the definition about a lack of interest.

I do not make this statement without evidence. Picture someone sitting on their one inch thick futon staring at their computer, not engaged in any particular activity, looking apparently "bored." Now, if you will, imagine this person receiving good news in a message on Facebook about having just received an internship or new job. What do you think happens at that point? Does that person continue to lay there, bored? Or do they find a new spirit to complete tasks that would otherwise be left undone for the time being? For example, picking up around their house, finding sudden inspiration to create a piece of art, go and exercise, etc.

You see, boredom has nothing to do with the availability of things to occupy one's time, I don't think. Rather, I believe boredom is simply a reflection of a deeper seated emotion. "I'm bored" may in fact mean "I'm homesick" or "I'm anxious." Take from this what you will. I may be spot on, or I may be completely off base.

All of this said, I do admit there are times in life where there really isn't a damn thing to do. I recommend naps during those times.

I was left to my own devices

I seldom sit still. To be subject to the agony of boredom is the worst of hells for me. I do not believe I have ever known what one would call a quiet mind. I always want to be doing something, whether this be swing dancing, boxing, working on my book, playing my bass guitar, or any number of other amusements.

To my dismay, however, I have found the anticipation of boredom to be a haunt of my mind. The idea that I may soon be without something to occupied by wracks my thoughts and paralyzes them. This fear will often drive me to physically stop all that I am doing, focus my eyes on a single point, and simply think. For my mind to be released from this trans, I must find a resolution to fear.

To find this resolution, I cycle through all of the possibilities, and I put together a mental picture of my solution. There is an irony here. I will for any length of time, gaining no new bit of piece or clarity. In truth, clarity only comes once my mental storm calms. This time spent spinning, however, often encompasses entire days. I will fade in and out of engagement with the world around me, and spend all of my time steeped in that which I was now fearing for my near future.

How many wasted days, I wonder? How many hours upon hours have I been with my mind in an untouchable future instead of the tangible present?

I wonder how unique I am in being vexed by the idea of an uncomfortable future? I wonder if I'm unique in having trouble trusting myself.

My point is simple and can be starkly stated. Quit worrying so much about the future. Do not squander your time simply pondering what the future could be. Invest your time in making your future what you want it to be. And enjoy the people along the way.

My apologies for a haphazardly assembled blog addition. These are simply my thoughts this evening.

I wish you all the best. :)

_Andrew

I was quite lonely

I admit, without shame, that until two days ago I was depressed. I missed home terribly, felt disconnected from this beautiful place that I am in, and quite simply wanted to go home.

Two days ago I hit my lowest point. A trifling sadness and home sickness dove into a full dreading of and contempt for the next eleven weeks of my life. When that low, and so far from home, there is little that is appealing...so I went for a run.

It's two and a half miles from my apartment to the Nagasaki Dejima Wharf. It took right right around 20 minutes to get there. When I finally arrived, my right knee was bloody, and my right shoulder was strained in supporting my right arm. I'd tripped at about a mile from home and collided with an unforgiving flight of stairs in front of a large bus station.

When I finally reached the wharf, the time was around 9:00pm, and the mountains surrounding the harbor had ceased to be hills at all and were nothing more than bodies of light. For a moment I was thoughtless. I had no ideas or plans. I had no regrets or anxieties. It seemed as though my only purpose, for a time, was to experience. Cool saltwater breeze rolled in from the sea of Japan and filled my lungs. Sounds of waves finding the pier met my ears. My eyes were trained on the dance of lights, flickering for the humidity in the air.

I cannot say I got tired of the view. It's difficult for me to believe that anyone could grow tired of such a thing. I did feel the need to go, however, and so I turned my back to the water and began my run home. Nothing was different. Nothing about my situation here had changed. All of the relationships I'd made and neglected to make still sat in the state I'd left them upon leaving my apartment. Still, though, I ran back happily.

There are times where sadness and depression will happen, and these dips are not avoidable. To choose to live in such a state, however, is entirely so. A desire to live in misery is commonplace among those that belong to the human race. I will not play at knowing why this is true, and while I do have an idea why, this is not relevant. What's relevant is the fact that the decision to be happy is just that. A decision. For this reason I do not give much sympathy, and expect little in return. No one should ever charge themselves with someone else's happiness, and no one should ever expect to be made happy by someone else. This is selfishness, laziness, and any happiness derived will be only temporary.

Happiness. It's a choice.

Some pictures of my travels so far