How Stella Got Her Groove Back

Hello, everyone. I'm leaving Facebook.

If you know me, you're likely well aware of this fact, but I'd like to take this personal forum, the only one where I feel comfortable feeling entitled to have a voice, the only one where I know people care about what I'm saying because they care about me (or they don't, or they're curious, or whatever) to sort through my feelings about it.

I think it's fair to say that Facebook has become a ubiqutous part of our lives. I know that no one will argue with me if I say that it's dramatically changed the way people keep in touch and communicate with each other. You're able to exchange information with people across the globe, people you may not have seen for years but have added you as a friend because they're curious about what you're up to these days.

Facebook exists on the basis that people are interested in other people. I feel like this is more true than ever before. This is old news here, but mass media has become increasingly focused on what other people are doing. Celebrity gossip, the rise of reality television, blogging, Facebook; our media culture has turned us into voyeurs. We're conditioned to care about other people because it tells us who we are. We're invited to identify with (or not identify with) these people in a carthartic release that makes us feel good about being ourselves. It validates us. This is why I LOVE reading my Facebook news feed.

It's one of the most entertaining moments of my day. I get home from work and I open Facebook to see what the world is doing. The problem is that, in truth, I'm only seeing what people want me to think that they're doing. Facebook has you create a profile for yourself that's visible to whomever you wish based on your privacy settings. You condense and define your personal into "Activities, Music, Books" etc. How do you want the world to see you? Well, you'd better get your profile right because Facebook is only becoming more important by the day.

When I meet someone new, I don't get their phone number or address or e-mail address; I ask them if they have Facebook. I friend them and then I look at their profile. Forgive me father, for I HAVE JUDGED PEOPLE AND THINGS AS ARBITRARY AS WHAT BOOKS THEY SAY THEY LIKE ON THEIR FACEBOOK PROFILE. Even if it wasn't a conscious decision, I know in my heart that I have come to THINK that I understand something about a person based on an internet persona that they have created to show themselves in a good light. No one says that they're a compulsive liar or that they like to bite their toenails on Facebook. You start to think that you know people without really knowing people.

The real reason I feel this why is because of the news feed. There are some people (I won't name names, but I'm sure most of you know) like my former roomate who I have not really spoken to in over a year. I just didn't feel that I needed to. I was getting updates about his life from his Facebook status updates.

I feel like I know people without ever really knowing them.

Facebook tells that I have 400 some-odd friends. Why aren't I happier?

I think that recently I've identified a fatal flaw in my perception of the world. If something is fun, I don't often consider whether it's good. This is the reason people become slaves to World of Warcraft--because the game is really, really fun. I've never played it, but I'm guessing it's a veritable cornucopia of enjoyment based on the way people pour their lives into it. My Facebook account is really fun. I have spent hours and hours reading about what other people are doing and loving every minute of it.

But it's rather empty.

There's a different sort of happiness. I can feel it right after I've had a really good conversation (of which I've had many lately; thanks, Joe) or after I've done something I've never done before or after I write something that's really for no one but myself. There's happiness and then there's Happiness.

As much as our potential for communication has expanded through social networking, hasn't it been irrevociably cheapened? Take the 'like' button on Facebook. You don't even have to come up with an original comment to show your approval. This is the face of modern convenience. I love it when people complain about there not being a 'dislike' button on Facebook. Think about the precious seconds we all could be saving!

Does Real Human Connection happen on Facebook? I believe that sometimes it does. Sometimes I see a worthwhile discussion. Most of the time, I see that someone's going to see the 7:20 showing of Marmaduke.

It's just so ego-centric. In this voyeuristic media culture, we feel just as entitled to be watched as we are to do the watching. Even now, writing this feels a little dirty to me because I'm posting my thoughts in a public place where I expect people to care. Like I said at the beginning though, I do sort of assume that you care because the people who read this care about me. Or you don't. Or you're curious about me. You can watch me from your seat of anonymity and maybe glimpse something.

Goodbye, Facebook.

One Everything

Busy, busy, busy.

I mean that in both a literal and Bokononist sense. Now that I've finally entered winter break (which, despite having no class means that yes, I have to sit at my desk for 8 hours at a time), I have time and inclination and free will which I dare not waste and so without further ado I present a series of adventures from November 2010 to December of that same year (i.e. now).

Hey guys, I went to a Japanese wedding!

Knowing full well about Japan's love of ceremony for ceremony's sake, I still found myself unprepared for the sheer breadth and magnitude of a Japanese wedding. They're super weddings, I tell you!

The chapel was a room inside a hotel inside Kyoto Station, about 3 and a half hours away from Satte. You might think it strange for there to be a chapel inside a hotel, but rest assured, it's never used for Sunday service. Strictly weddings.

Ironically, the ceremony itself was quite short, maybe 30 minutes or so. My now married friends Ben and Akie are American and Japanese respectively, so they said their vows, and exchanged their rings, and signed their names in both English and Japanese, all to the tune of a few Disney classics sung by two choir girls who looked dressed to show up at your doorstep on Christmas Eve. A lot of people cried. I felt a little embarrassed because the ushers sat me right next to the stage in the closest possible seat. I was seated closer than any of his family members although my pew was perpendicular to the stage, so I didn't have the best view. "You're highly visible. Don't vomit."

After the ceremony, we went outside and the newlyweds rang a bell while we all took pictures and threw petals at them. I was especially proud of myself for pushing the petals into a ball which exploded in a blossom storm when it connected with Ben's face. Ca-ching. Don't worry, he liked it.

Next came the reception. This was the real meat of the event. A 3-4 hour multimedia presentation with costume changes and a 10 course, all-you-can-drink meal. They sat me at a table with all my friends from JPN club back at UF and we "shot the shit" as they say for the duration of it. Fun, fun, fun.

Any real wedding might end there. Not a super wedding. Next, we went to another all-you-can event they had reserved at a bar and which was (unknown to me at the time) Ben's early birthday party. I'd really like to tell you more about it, but I don't remember much about it.

Which means I REALLY don't remember much about the karaoke session after that. I do remember walking the streets of Kyoto with Marc, munching on fresh peanuts and singing Tina Turner while we tried to find the Japanese-style inn we were staying at. Nutbush City Limits, indeed.

I woke up to find that I had a bag full of party favors. SUPER party favors. Some furikake to put on my rice. Candies. A nice ornamental bag. A catalog.

A catalog? Yes, the bride and groom have bought you a gift from a catalog and all you have to do is pick one from an entirely too large selection.

I haven't decided yet, but I think I'm going with the coffee maker.

A few weeks later, I was back in Kyoto.

Well, Shiga really, but it's close enough. This time I was going for an Japanese/English interpretation training seminar. Being roughly 4 days of very intense training it was, of course, very... hard. Incredibly exhausting mentally. With my meager language skills I just managed to slide through by the skin of my teeth.

Skin of my teeth... I just Googled that and it turns out it originated in the Book of Job. Huh.

Maybe it wasn't THAT bad, and at any rate trials like this tend to reveal something about your real character, something that even you might not know or understand about yourself. In my case, it reminded me that I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

WHAT AM I DOING?

I've put all my eggs in one basket and I'm not sure that I've even chosen the right basket. Moreover, I promised myself that I wouldn't throw this basket away like all the other baskets I've tried over the years: (in chronological order) drawing, baseball, jazz dance, writing, trumpet, French, film, painting, acting. The thing I liked about studying a foreign language is that your progress is quantifiable, practical, and involves interpersonal communication which I've always enjoyed at least in a superficial sense, even if I can't get a grip on the illusive Real Human Connection.

So I've dilligently worked for 5 and a half years on it. More time than I've ever earnestly spent on any other pursuit. Yet, there's the simple fact that I'm not THAT good at it. Fundamentally, I've never been a clear thinker. I have a lot of trouble relating what I mean in English, let alone a foreign tongue. I fail to see how anyone can be a successful interpreter without being exceptionally articulate and and level-headed enough to think clearly under a metric ton of pressure.

I've always prefered reading to speaking. My eternal hard-on for written Japanese is difficult for me to put into words. It's complex and beautiful and fascinating and a large factor in what's motivated me to keep at it for the past 5 years. Trying to express Japanese text in English is both challenging and rewarding.

I could do this for a living.

Could I do this for a living?

This whole seminar just forced me to re-evaluate: how good is good? How good do you have to be? Naturally, there will always be someone who is better than you at something. That's common fact. But how close to the top do you need to be to find work? You only have this one skill. What separates you from your peers? How can anyone forge a sense of identity in the sprawling, bloated 21st century that makes everyone feel entitled to a voice, heard and recognized?

Remember when you were 23?

I've got this complex from the time I took an IQ test in first or second grade. I needed a 140 to get into the Gifted program. I got a 130. Frustratingly close, but not close enough.

I'm not giving up on Japanese. I promised myself that I wouldn't long ago. I just need to consider what the hell I'm going to do after JET. Narrowing my options down, my dream jobs are:

1. translation/product localization team member

2. Jurassic Park groundskeeper

3. restaurant/bakery/cafe owner

4. unicorn

5. art critic

6. Ke$ha

Anyway, I'm waaaaaaaay off topic now. What else happened in December?

I went to a David Byrne art exhibition. One installation was an electic guitar hooked up to an amp and looped through 40 or so foot pedals. Byrne himself at some point played a few chords on the guitar and sent the sound looping through the system eternally. Visitors are asked to walk over the pedals, changing the sound with every step. It was awesome. Turn on all the reverb pedals and things get CRAAAAAAZY.

On Christmas, I actually got to eat turkey! (Thank you, Grant!!)

I finally read Cat's Cradle (if you couldn't guess from the beginning of this post) and I'm reading a bunch of Chuck Klosterman essays entitled "Eating the Dinosaur". It's rocking my world. (Thank you, Marisa!!)

This year was the best year for music for me EVER, so I expect my next post will be my pop culture top 5 lists for the year.

Toy Story 3 made me cry even though I didn't think it was that good. TRON: Legacy made me laugh even though I don't think it was supposed to.

My apartment is freezing cold and lonely, so I try and spend as little time there as possible. Hence, you haven't seen me around Skype lately. Expect me back when the weather warms up.

And on that note, toodles.

The Dog Days Are Over

Hey, guys. I'm back. At least, I hope to be.

Of course I've done a lot of stuff in the past six months since I've posted. At the same time though, I feel like I've been a little dead inside. Or maybe just in stasis. Like, a spiritual hibernation.

Yesterday was a pretty amazing day.

SIEN is an international... er, club? Association? In all honesty, I have no idea what the acronym stands for, but basically, they're a group of Japanese and foreigners who like to get together and hang out every once in a while. Go on trips, do events; that sort of thing. My last post, about hanami in Shinjuku-gyoen, was one of their events. Yesterday was a national holiday in Japan, Culture Day, and with little to do, I decided to go to a SIEN event that was provocatively titled "Mystic Walk".

What the hell does that even mean?

Knowing next to nothing, I met up with the group around 11AM at Shinagawa Station in Tokyo. The walk was a hike to 4 different "mystic spots" in Tokyo. The locations were kept secret from everybody save for the president of SIEN, Ryoji. He was one of two people there who I remembered from the event back in April. For the most part, I knew nobody.

My Wednesday holiday and here I am in Shinagawa at 11AM going somewhere with a bunch of someones.

Just before we set off, Ryoji told us that the whole trip will be about a 40km walk with multiple breaks. Fair enough. Plenty of time to get to know people. I met, Aleksandra the Tokyo University graduate from Bulgaria, Tomoko the girl who tried to teach me a song which she herself did not know the lyrics to, Amy the fashionable preschool teacher who latched on to me immediately, Ootake-san the photographer who took a trip to India all by himself this past summer, etc.

They're good people.

The first stop was Sengakuji, the temple where the gravestones of the 47 samurai stand. Here's the short version of this story (one of the most well-known events in Japanese history): daimyo Asano Naganori was completing his two-year stay in the capital as was required of all daimyo during the Edo period, when some guy (who happened to be a court official named Kira Yoshinaka) got all up in his grill. He drew his sword on the guy, but failed to kill him. What's more, for taking arms against a court official, he had to commit seppuku. Oops.

47 of his retainers were not so happy about this. They planned and schemed for two years trying to find an opportune time to kill Kira. They found it, succeed, and OH WAIT WE COMMITTED MURDER. In order to save face, they all had to kill themselves too. People in the Edo period LOVED this story. Nothing says "loyalty and honor" like ritual suicide.

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The second "mystic spot" was a whole lot less mystic, but no less wonderful.

The Yamanote line is the most popular train line in Tokyo. It makes a big loop around the center of the city hitting just about anywhere that's anywhere. Shinjuku, Harajuku, Shibuya, Shinagawa, Tokyo, Akihabara, Ueno, Ikebukuro--all on the Yamanote.

The longest break between two stations on the Yamanote is between Tamachi and Shinagawa. They're actually building another station right now to make that no-man's land a little more accessible. For now however, you're forced to walk, and what's worse is that there's only one passage under the tracks in that LOOOOONG distance. The second spot was that passage.

The passage looks like it's old as time immemorial and is almost completely underground. It also turns out that its drainage systems are not so great. There's a warning at the entrance that warns commuters that during heavy rain, the tunnel is often completely underwater. Here's the real kicker though: the ceiling is probably only about 5'4" high. Even I had to duck! And people ride their bikes through this thing! There are probably people who commute by way of that tunnel every day of their lives!

Finding the light at the end of the tunnel, we stopped to have lunch at an artificial park constructed on top of a water treatment plant. I sat in the shade and the autumn wind chilled my face. I pulled my winter coat up tight.

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The third spot was the Rainbow Bridge, a giant suspension bridge that connects Hamamatsucho with the arificial island of Odaiba. As we arrived at the foot of the bridge, Ryoji brought up an interesting point: "I'm sure all of you have seen the Rainbow Bridge many times, but how many of you have ever walked across it?" I didn't even know that you could.

The walk is great. There are plenty of observation decks and you can get a really good view of the whole city. The wind blew the smell of the bay way up into the back of my nostrils. The sun was quickly descending. I laughed.

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Coming off the end of the bridge, Ryoji asked us all if we knew why Odaiba is called Odaiba (お台場). Ironically, Aleksandra had just finished explaining the story to me about 15 minutes before. Here's how it works (get ready for some Japanese):

A daiba (台場) is the location where a houdai (砲台) is placed. A houdai is the gun battery which holds a taihou (大砲). Taihou is the word for cannon.

When Perry first arrived in Yokohama with his black ships, the government in Tokyo didn't have a clue what to do were he to approach the capital. One plan was that if Perry were to try to bring his fleet into the Tokyo Bay area, they blast him with cannon fire. They built 6 different cannon stations in the bay and waited patiently. He never came.

The name stuck though. We concluded the "mystic walk" with a trip out to one of these islands, now a cape. Down at the end the gun batteries still stand, weathered and cannon-less. We laid down the tarp for one final picnic. The sun was setting down behind the buildings and the clouds. It illuminated the water so brilliantly it hurt to look at. But it hurt so good. I looked around at these people who I'd gotten to know surprisingly well over the course of an afternoon. I was cold, but happy. I was happy.

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The whole trip reminded me of how I had been before. When I'd first arrived. When everything was still new and exciting. How every yes lead to a spectacular adventure. All the hope that I'd lost in the past few months slowly trickled back into my psyche.

There's still so much for me to do, to learn, to grow. The past six months have tested me. Showed me things about myself which I didn't think I was capable of. Sometimes terrible things.

But sometimes it's darkest right before the clouds break open enough to let the sun's brilliance dance on the bay water.

Cherry Blossom Easter

I like that the Japanese word for Easter is 'fukkatsusai' 復活祭, literally "revival festival". It really fits with spring, a time when the world is coming back to life. Coming back into bloom.

And, boy! Does Japan bloom! At the tail end of winter, the plum blossoms burst white followed by the deep magenta of the peach trees. The coup de grace, of course, are the cherry blossoms. Iconic, the cherry trees start to bud at the onset of spring weather, explode into a light pink for about a week, then begin to let their petals drift down to the earth like snow. It's said that the Japanese fascination with cherry blossoms stems from their ephemeral nature mirroring the Buddhist theme of impermanence or yadda yadda yadda, whatever, they're beautiful. I don't care who you are, they will move you.

Two weeks ago, I did 'hanami' for the first time. In short, it amounts to you gathering up your best mates, sitting under the cherry trees, and getting sloshed at hours when, really, no one should be drinking. We went to Gongendo Park (which I think I've mentioned before), Satte's #1 tourist attraction. The park is situated at a bend in the Gongendo River. In times long past, the people of Satte built a levy to protect themselves from the often overflowing river. On the top of the levy they planted numerous cherry trees for stability and unintentionally created the main source of revenue for the city their tiny hamlet would become. The park is distinctive for its juxtaposition of the pink cherry blossoms above the fields of yellow rape seed along the riverbank. It's a beauty to behold, and you can see it in the video below. You'll also see me and my friends acting like we'd recently been lobotomized.

On the following Sunday, I agreed to go to an Easter parade put on by Mr. Oogushi's church. I've probably never mentioned this before, but Mr. Oogushi and his family are devoutly Christian. They go to church every Sunday, attend Christian retreats in Canada, the works.

As the parade approached me, marching down the streets of Kasukabe, I was suddenly swept up in it. Urged along down an alley toward the church. As we turned the final corner, I was surprised to see the street lined with food stands and games. It looked just like a Japanese festival! They even had goldfish scooping, which I got to try (another first for me). This really was a 'revival festival'! After having the best pizza I'd had since coming to Japan, I got to speak with some of the foreigners affiliated with the church. A guy from Philly, a guy from California. In the middle of the conversation, I realized something amazing for me: these people weren't trying to convert me!

I could really dig this Japanese-style Christianity. So far, it seemed to me to be a religion based upon the virtues of good food and catching goldfish with a tiny, paper scooper.

A little while later, we got to the main event: a performance of the resurrection story. Not an unusual Easter festivity. But it was in Japanese, and in that respect, it was certainly an unusual experience for me. The footage is below.

Last weekend, I did hanami again with a group of people I'd never met from SIEN. Don't ask me what that stands for. I can't tell you. But I can tell you that they were all very nice Japanese people who wanted to practice English and share a few good drinks.

The event was at Shinjuku-gyoen, right down the street from KCP, the place where I did my study abroad program. Shinjuku-gyoen is a giant park in the middle of Tokyo, tiny in comparison to Central Park, but sizable none the less. To get straight to the point, it was gorgeous. At one point I came upon a tree where the petals were just raining down, spinning in the wind. In Japanese, they call this 'hanafubuki' (lit. 'a snow storm of petals'). I was awed. It's also in the video below, so without further ado, enjoy! Watch in HD to feel LIKE YOU'RE REALLY THERE.

The Meddlesome Gods #2 - A Contemporary Tale of Bravery

I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a while, just never got around to posting it. So with that, feast your eyes! And any feedback is appreciated.

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A Contemporary Tale of Bravery

K worked at a company in a good position. He had no children, but he had a beautiful wife, and to some extent, he got by with more than he needed. Nothing much changed for him-- he was just an ordinary, middle-aged man.

If you had to cite a change in his life, stopping over in the neighborhood park after leaving the house would be about it. Making a round through the park every morning before his commute became a part of K's daily routine. It somewhat made up for his habit of not getting enough exercise, and besides, it refreshed him.

On that day, however, the park didn't look what you could call "refreshing" and he was on his guard. As K strolled along, a young man sitting on a bench stood up and started to speak to him.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. K?"

"Sure, but who are you? And what do you want?"

"You're not going to like this."

"What the hell are you talking about? Just spit it out."

"It's hard for me to say this, but I'll just tell you flat out. I'm going to kill you."

"What? Are you crazy?"

The young man restrained the shouting K. He briefly pulled out a handgun, and then immediately returned it to his pocket. Then, with it still in his pocket, he pressed it against K's body. "Please, don't raise your voice. This is a new type of silent handgun. If I pull this trigger, the bullet will force the life right out of your body."

This was no joke.

"Are you going to kill me here and now?"

"If you try to escape, then yes. However, I would prefer to wait a little longer."

"What do you mean?"

"If possible, I would like you to return to your home and die there."

"What are you saying?! My wife is home!"

"I have been entrusted with killing you in front of your wife's eyes."

"Who the hell would think up something that cruel?! And without even a reason..."

"Since you're going to die anyway, I might as well tell you. Due to your company halting distribution of its products, a certain company went bankrupt. The manager committed suicide by jumping in front of a train right before his wife's eyes. In other words, it was said that you, the manager, killed him. At that, his widow took an oath of revenge. Taking it upon herself, she saved the money, and so that you should be killed under the same circumstances, she hired me. It's a real contemporary tale of bravery, isn't it? It's seldom that you see a lady so admirable. I even took the job on cheap."

"Well, wait a sec. Something like that may have happened, but that was done under company policy; it's not my responsibility. That's no reason to kill someone! Please, save me!"

"I can't do that. It is my job to follow the policies of a client. Putting it that way is no reason for me NOT to kill you. I can't save you."

"If she has some kind of complaint against me, she could come to me personally."

"However, killing you is not something which should be borne on the hands of of a lady. And so, I was hired as her agent."

"What a bullshit story."

"Complaining to me won't get you anywhere. I'm only an agent, you see? Now, how shall we proceed? Would you prefer to die here, or shall we go to your home?"

K thought for a long while. If he died here, it would be the end no matter what. He didn't want to surprise his wife and get her entangled in this either, but he had to buy himself a little bit of time. In that, he might be able to find a method of escape.

"Let's head towards the house."

"Well then, shall we go together? Please don't think about trying to escape en route or anything of that sort."

Without speaking as much as a word to the young man, K looked for a chance to escape. However, the assassin could see through that as well, and didn't drop his guard even for a moment. K's escape became an impossibility. Again, he tried to talk him out of it, but it was futile. The assassin would say no more.

Returning via the nearly shadowless road through the park, K turned towards his house. With every step, his despair further deepened. Then at last, they arrived in front of his foyer. Putting on his sunglasses, the assassin ordered thus, "Don't ring the doorbell. You have a key, correct? Open the door with that. If you don't comply, then right here..."

Having no other choice, K took out his key and opened the door.

"Now, where's your wife's room?"

K motioned towards his wife's room with the end of his chin. Thinking himself about to be killed, his words wouldn't come. In the end, it was hopeless. His only hope was that, before his death, he would just be able to meet his beloved wife one more time. Although, at the same time, he would have to die.

The assassin, his attention never leaving K, pulled open the door to the room.

When he did so, an unexpected scene, one which K had never considered, unfolded before them. There was a young man in the room who K had never even met. This man, wearing only his underwear, thought to grab the ashtray next to him, aim at the assassin, and let loose a powerful throw. Then, he threw on his clothes in a fluster and jumped out the window.

The assassin, his attention focused solely on K, had no time to sidestep. The ashtray hit him in the face, and his sunglasses shattered. He fell down on the bed, hands covering both eyes.

K, who had been dumbstruck by these unforeseen events, finally returned to his senses. With the nearby power cord, he bound the assassin up. After that, he asked his wife, standing indecorously in the corner of the room, "What was with that man who jumped out the window just now?"

"Uh, that is, he's a salesman."

"Why was there a salesman in here?"

At K's weighty question, she fell to her knees and answered.

"I'm horrible. While you were away, the salesman came into the house, and I was unfaithful. I'm sorry. I'll do anything to make amends! Please try and forgive me!"

Naturally, K forgave this crying, apologizing woman. He bowed down even lower than her.

"Thank you. I don't know what to say. Thanks for cheating on me while I'm away."

Love's Uneven Remainder

I've been here roughly 7 months now.

I feel like I've had a lifetime of experiences and yet, somehow it feels like I've only just arrived.

Around the end of January, my friend Akiko and I had a combined birthday party with all our friends. The first order of business that day was ice skating. You may not know this, but I can't roller skate or roller blade despite my best attempts to succeed. I thought my prospects for ice skating were pretty grim. But hey, I had to at least give it a shot, right? I got out on that ice and sort of barely puttered around for the first hour and a half, but by the end of the afternoon, I had become fairly proficient at drifting around the rink. Look, Ma! No hands!

Then we went to a burger place I'd never been to called Oatman's, a little ways off from the rink. Delicious food, delicious conversation--and in a very surprising move, my friends paid for me! Up to this point in the day, I already felt like I'd met the challenge of skating head on and succeeded with a modicum of success, so having my meal paid for pretty much sent me into a coma of content. Amid the laughs and the tempest of good will, I could really feel something there. The feeling that I knew these people. I'd grown to know them. There was real human connection there. Something that I feel college robbed me of at some point. I'm learning what people are really for again.

After that, we moved the party to karaoke, had a blast, and then all went home. Well, most went home. I stayed out all night in Tokyo, but that's a story for another day.

The next weekend, I went with some of those same friends on a trip to Hokkaido. The results can be seen in the previous post below. I think the images really speak for themselves. There were a few things left out: an unplanned trip to a greenhouse, tons of snow falling, seeing my friend Marc again, making a snow angel, etc.

Then, the following weekend, I went skiing with Akiko in Nasu, Tochigi prefecture. This was a first as well, and a deal more frightening than learning to ice skate. With skiing, you put your planks down on the snow, and you're off. Whoosh! Did I fall a lot? Oh, hell yes. I was quite sore the next day. B-U-T! Once again, I did it. By the end, I was whooshing along with the best of them... on the beginner slope. Still, I felt like a million yen (or 10,000 dollars which is a respectable sum no matter how you look at it).

Akiko's friend Yuki drove us, and on the way back, as we slowly proceeded down the mountain with our chain-covered tires, we slid across the road, stopping just short of hitting a wall and falling into a ravine. I felt strangely calm at the time. I screamed instinctively, sure, but I couldn't really comprehend that I was seconds away from a serious accident. We were all shaken, but unharmed.

The next day was Valentine's Day. A very special day deserving of a very special experience. Plus, my ass hurt like it had never hurt before, so I suggested to my friend James that we go to a hot spring over in his town, Washinomiya. About 7 dollars for 3 hours of sulfur-suffused bliss.

Yesterday, I went with Marisa to see an exhibit at the National Museum on Dogu, mysterious clay figures from the Jomon period (14,000 BC to 400 BC). It's not generally understood what the purpose of dogu were, but there are several theories. Wiki it if you're interested.

After that, I bought new shoes, we had sakura flavored steamers at Starbucks, met Devin for dinner, and and and you get the idea.

Here's the bottom line: I'm having the best time I've ever had. Overall, I'm happier than I've ever been. Life seems vaster, more full of potential, and people just seem more important than ever before for me. To meet, to change, to grow. There's so much to do and life is just about perfect.

Just about.

There's a serious problem, a missing piece of the puzzle that prevents me from being complete here. I think you probably understand, dear reader. It's the puzzle that no one's ever solved.

l-o-n-g-i-n-g

Snow Fest

Yeah, this happened to me. I can't believe it either.