At War (with the Morning)

The best thing about not having a job is not having a job. The worst thing about not having one is not having one...

Some days ago, I got dressed up in an uncomfortable suit and had an interview with a company, pretending like my pants weren’t one size too small and strangling my groin. The interview went well, fortunately, and they offered me a position, which was exactly like the position I had lost before but with a few more perks. I told them that I would have to think about it and would give them a decision by the morning of the following day. In my mind, as soon as they said it was available to me, I didn’t want it because I was tired of doing the same old thing. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t make a decision, so before I went to bed, I just sent them an email saying I would take it, and as soon as I had done that, regretted it right away...

The next day I walked from my home to Shinjuku to meet Jon and Cameron for lunch. It was a beautiful day out, so I took quite a lot of pictures on my way… Eventually I grew hungry because all I had was my daily tea and two slices, which led to me to think about the money I didn’t have and the money I was probably never destined to get much of in the future…. A romantic idea slipped into my head, which I think slips into everyone’s head at one time another. What if I gave up trying to find work for one year, and just did art (with an occasional freelance gig here and there)…? And then since I imagined myself to be this cool starving artist, I also came up with an even more romantic idea about not having sex or a girlfriend for one year because being unemployed in Japan is kind of like being a leper- no Japanese girl would want to date you, and even if for some miracle I could get a girlfriend, having one would just cost money... I gave up on these ideas just as fast as I thought of them.

On the afternoon of April 1st, while I was skateboarding to buy Yuki’s present, I suddenly had an epiphany… I think it was an epiphany because the sun was shining on me just right when I had this realization. Even though I had been stressing about a job, it didn’t matter because there would always be something to stress about, so fuck work because these past couple of weeks, I was doing what I wanted to be doing and in a way was actually happy.

Later that evening while Ian was cooking a romantic dinner for Yuki’s birthday, I mentioned to him that a magazine had contacted me the day before, and that they were interested in collaborating with me for their blog– the details were not yet clear, but if that were to happen, they said they could pay, which was exciting to hear. Soon after, Yuki called and said she had to go out drinking with her coworkers, which is one of those mandatory things that Japanese people have to do, so Ian and I ended up eating the romantic birthday dinner by ourselves.

Yuki's Present, a used copy of "Sentimental Journey" by Nobuyoshi Araki

Before I went to bed, I got a follow-up email from another magazine, a German one, who had asked me before about publishing some excerpts from my 7 Days diary. In their previous email, they had apologized that they could only pay a little – how much that was... they would get back to me about that. Anyways from past experience, I never expect much from magazines financially, but that night, in their email, they said they could give me 400 Euro, which, after I checked, was about 550 US dollars, which, in my mind, was a lot of money for doing nothing. I ran over to Ian, excited, jumping up and down, saying I had enough money for next month’s rent. Soon after, I began drunkenly dreaming that, maybe, I could be freelance by just doing Talking Barnacles…

The next morning, I woke up on the ground – actually it was tatami – as well as to an email from the New York Times. After re-reading their letter five times, I brought down my computer to the kitchen in my pajamas, proofread the article I had written the night before about wet sleeves, prepared my tea and two slices, and then suddenly, while buttering my toast, sang So Long Marianne by Leonard Cohen out loud.

Pat,

Sorry, I have been out of touch. Work was really busy for the last few days of the week and I didn’t have time to do research for you or write back. And then we had family day on Friday and that is always nuts. I ended up going to Stockton yesterday to hang out with the parents and it was very weird and uncomfortable. We couldn't talk about you. Dad tried to ask me what your plan was and I lied and said you were still in Fukuoka and that I hadn't heard from you. And Mom told him that we should not talk about you because we wanted to have a good visit. It really made me sad that we had to tiptoe around the subject of you in Japan. While I know you don't want to be lectured by Dad about your future, Mom and Dad still love you and part of the annoying lectures they give come out of concern for your well-being. I spent the night at their house and woke up and checked my email and got your email checking up with me, and then I read your blog entry and I got really sad- sad that you were made to feel that way by our parents and sad that you and dad will never be able to see things the same way. I felt torn by your entry and how weird I felt the night before when we couldn't talk about you. I guess it was the part where you said it was like a waiting game between the two of you. And I felt like you were wrong this time because mom was trying in her messed up way to give you space by not calling. She's trying her best to be open for a Chinese mom and she's trying to heed my suggestions to let you make decisions for yourself and that you can take care of yourself.


But I also just felt weird and sad because I realized the day before that all we do is lie to our parents and that it comes from our parents. Mom lies all the time to Dad because he doesn’t approve of anything she does, and she lied to him because he hated Eric (*my sister's ex-fiancee) and Zap(*Eric's daughter from another marriage), and she lied to him because she doesn’t want him and you to fight all the time. And I lie to Dad about a lot of the same things and I lie to Mom in a lesser degree because there are things she doesn't understand either, even when she tries too. And you lied to our parents about your photography because they wouldn't understand.


Mom's whole philosophy, which I realize comes from her dad, is that you only tell people what they need to know in order to keep things copacetic. She lives her life this way and I've learned to do it too. It works to keep the peace, but it tears you up inside. I don't want to speak for how you may feel, but I was torn in half all the time when I was with Eric, and after I broke up with him, I was torn even more every day because I had to lie about Zap for the past five years (*my sister continued to help take care of Zap secretly as if she were her own child, but our parents eventually found out) . It got to a point where I forgot what I'd lied about so it was hard to have any conversations for fear of saying something revealing.

All this being said, I am REALLY proud of you for writing your email to Dad. Regardless of how he responds to it, you told it to him straight. You were honest with him about where you are at, and what is going on with you. I think Mom and Dad- especially Dad- will never really understand us or why we do things, but I think any chance that we can be honest is a big accomplishment. If he doesn't respond in a way that you want, please don’t be discouraged, he is from a different time and has a different idea of what is good and bad and we shouldn’t judge him or let his words judge what we do.



Every time I hang out at home I feel sad about Dad, in some ways he's mellowed out in old age and smiles more and is cute and loveable, but at the same time, he seems more set against modern things he doesn’t understand and shuts himself off. I have even less to talk about with Dad than I used to. He just sits in his office and watches Chinese TV and comes up for dinner. He and Mom bicker all the time about everything, at least when I'm there. And I wonder if this is what they do all the time. Dad hides in his room and Mom just watches TV and is sad or empty or depressed… or goes and spends a bunch of money compulsively 'cuz there is nothing at home.


Anyway, I don’t know what I'm trying to say. It was just kind of a sad weekend and I've had a lot of feelings swirling around in me because of it. But then I got this email from you and it made me feel happy to know you talked to Mom and told her where you were living and what was going on with you. And I'm also really happy to hear that the blog is leading to opportunities. REALLY BIG amazing sounding opportunities. I am really proud of you.


Its getting late and I’m pretty emo myself right now, but I love you and I’ll talk to you soon.


Jenn

In the Shadows

Hayato's Return

On April 6^th, I woke up to the sound of my neighbor Hayato’s rubber ball bouncing outside. I opened my second-story window and we chatted a bit. He was killing time, waiting for his friend to arrive; then they were off to the batting cages to enjoy their last day of Spring Break.

The following day they entered the 3^rd grade.

It Was One Of Those Days...

For a few days, everything was clicking together and making sense because my life had never been clearer. I was even taking so many photos everyday that there were too many to post on T.B. During that time, I honestly felt like I had been enlightened with a light shining down on me after such an internal struggle.

But of course, after feeling so unnaturally high, I had to inevitably crash down… and then two days ago, I did. It wasn’t due to anything in particular. There had been some good news and some bad news from the magazines I had been talking to, but that was to be expected. Or maybe it was just the accumulation of everything, making me realize that my dream, which now seemed like it was becoming a reality, wouldn’t turn out how I had hoped: I found out that I didn’t qualify for unemployment; the annual bonus I assumed I would be getting from my old job wasn’t coming; and while I was walking up the stairs to my room, I suddenly realized it had been four days since I had written a two-paged email to my dad about my decision and I still hadn’t heard back from him, which made me sad, and wonder why he had to be so angry all the time; and then I crashed- literally- for no good reason when I was skating to Shinjuku and almost broke my camera, which was slung over my shoulder. I stood up with some scrapes and pains and gravel wedged in me, and then checked my camera for damages. It was one of those days...

On April 7^th, which was the following day, my photographer friend asked me to go with him to this big competition that he was a finalist in. There were around fifty other people in the audience, and we were all surrounding this big desk in the center of the room, which was for the judges, who were famous/established photographers. We sat there and waited… and waited... I decided to kill time by reading "The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell Volume 1". And with a red pen, at the end of one of Orwell’s letters where he was writing about his first experience as an amateur tramp, I underlined the sentence:

"I am very proud of this adventure, but I would not repeat it.”

Finally the judges entered the room and walked down the aisle like kings. I noticed that they were all rather old… and wrinkly. One of them, I was able to guess who he was from the moment I saw him- even before he sat down at his seat in front of his name card- because he was pompous and badly styled. He had poofy, permed hair and was wearing all black, a grey scarf and dark sunglasses even though we were in the basement two floors underground. It was plain to see that he just had to be the most famous photographer in the bunch.

Mr. Poofy Perm

One at a time, the six finalists began their presentations… and then the judges would talk to them about their work. My Japanese was not good enough to understand the details, but, even so, I kept watching the whole thing, and it disgusted me. The first finalist, was behind the podium, and he kept apologizing to the judges in the Japanese way whenever they made a comment, and he had the biggest frown on his face the whole time as if he was a kid being punished by his parents… It was awful and so painful to watch, and I kept thinking, “Who are these guys to judge what is good and what is not? And why do they have the right to make this grown man revert into a baby just to satisfy their egos, especially the guy with the shades on with the permed, poofy hair because someone with that bad of a fashion sense, shouldn’t be allowed to judge anything.” While the presentations dragged on, even though it was rude, I got out my book again and began reading in subtle protest.

After three hours, it was finally over and I was starved. Fortunately, my friend won and I was happy for him. Afterwards, I saw some acquaintances of mine hanging out in the hallway and went over to say hello. There was this girl with them who I didn’t know. She was really nice, and stole me a beer from the judge’s table. I was so hungry/thirsty, that I drank it quickly. After we finished our beers, they said they were going out to eat… I wanted to join, but I felt like I should be home working on T.B. as well as be saving money, so I took a rain check. While walking to the station, I noticed I was already drunk from that one can of beer because I hadn’t eaten anything for 10 hours. On the train, I thought about this other girl who I recently started writing to. We seemed to have a good connection, so I decided to take a chance, and in one email, openly flirted. And, of course, she never wrote back. In a way, I wasn’t serious about her, but still, being rejected is always embarrassing. And as I sat there in the train, I began feeling lonely….

It was eleven by the time I made it to my station. At the supermarket, I bought a frozen pizza for 278 yen, which made me feel like I was worth 278 yen. When I got home, Yuki and Ian were in the kitchen. The table was full of beautiful vegetables and cheeses (I use the word “beautiful” because all I have been eating these past few weeks was instant food). They said they were making tacos and ratatouille from scratch, and that I could have some. While Yuki’s hands were covered in bacon grease, I asked for a hug because I needed one.

Dinner was amazing especially the tacos. Good Mexican food is rare in Japan, so I asked Ian to make them again for my birthday. Suddenly while I was fixing my second round, Ian and Yuki looked at me, and said, “Do you feel that?” “Feel what?” I asked. Suddenly I noticed everything was moving, and that it was another quake, and it was the biggest one since March 11^th. After about ten seconds, it still didn’t stop, so we ran outside (Ian took his tacos with him). When the earthquake finally settled, we noticed that we were the only ones outside, and a homeless man, who was walking by, laughed at us. When we got back into the kitchen, Willy, our cat, was sitting on my chair like nothing had happened.

Afterwards, Ian and Yuki put on the last episode of Lost, which we had been waiting for a month to watch because the quake on March 11^th had interrupted everything. Since I was still feeling low and wasn’t in the mood to watch, I told them goodnight and went to bed instead. After I got under my covers, I opened my computer and noticed I had one email from my sister. There was only one sentence and it was all in caps. It said:

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT????”

“Strange,” I thought. “How did she know that I was so depressed, and why, all of the sudden, was she so in-tuned with me right now?” It was as if we were twins and she could sense how I was feeling, but this was the only time it had ever happened*. Anyways I didn’t write back, but masturbated instead.

*After I woke up, I realized that she was talking about that earthquake from the night before.

C+J

Cameron, John, and I have been meeting up every Wednesday afternoon since I had been laid off. Out of the three of us, Cameron is probably the only one, whom we could call a “writer” since he is a freelance journalist and he occasionally writes for CNN (actually it’s CNNGo). Even so, we still like to call our meetings “The Writer’s Club” to sound dignified even though we don’t really talk about writing much (it’s just our excuse to see each other during our busy schedules).

During the last meeting at Shinjuku Gyouen(Shinjuku Park), John posed the most serious question of the day, which I will now present to you. It was: “If you were in a room and forced to watch someone you love kill all the penguins in the world in the room next to you through a one-way mirror, and the only way to stop this massacre is to kill yourself by guillotine, what would u do?”

Shinjuku Gyouen

What would you do?

Day 34: Thursday, April 14th, 2011

No clean underwear this morning, and...

I turned 30 today.

The other day I went to a Hanami(cherry blossom viewing) with this girl. We’ve known each other for a couple of years, but never really hung out alone together except for the time when we both had just broken up with our ex’s. That time, we went to a museum together, which felt almost like a trial date… I was attracted to her, but there was something there that I couldn’t put my finger on about her… Even though she was really sweet and friendly, there was this darkness inside, which I could only guess that had something to do with her father, who passed away when she was young. Because it was difficult to get close to her, and I was always too shy to try anything with her then, nothing ever happened and then we continued with our own separate lives as friends.

For some reason, she asked me to go to a Hanami party last Sunday, which was being thrown by our mutual friend. Of all the Hanami invitations I had gotten, the only reason why I accepted hers was the chance to see her again because it had been too long.

I was late, and she met me at the station to take me to where everyone was camped out. I only knew two other people in the group of ten besides her, and sat in between them instead of next to her, so unfortunately I couldn’t speak to her for the first hour.

Afterwards we were supposed to go to this demonstration in Koenji against nuclear power plants in Japan, but we forgot the time, and then when we finally realized it, the demo was over. Actually I didn’t care much about the protest or have an opinion for that matter; I just agreed to go so we could hang out longer.

Since we were staying, I decided to go down by the river to take photos, and I asked her if she would like to join, which she did. We crossed the road, and then walked down the path leading to the water, talking and catching up on each others' lives. She told me the reason why she had cut her long hair was because it was a subtle protest against nuclear power. Anyways the weather was perfect, and the wind blew her short hair up, and I couldn’t have been happier.

When the picnic was over, we rode the train back together. It was hard to find something to talk about then, which I feel was often the case with us whenever we were alone, and then, when we arrived at our transfer point, parted ways.

"External Pressures 2" (Photo: Kid At First Day of School Ceremony)

Most of my previous conflicts that arose this past month are now almost resolved: the quakes and radiation are still present, but exist in the background of our lives- they might be irksome, but we have generally gotten used to them; losing my job and worrying about what to do with my life has somewhat been answered with the decision of going freelance since opportunities have arisen with the popularity of this project/blog; and my parents have all finally given me their support... so what else is there to write about now? I pondered that question while riding my skateboard the other day, half relieved yet half worried, but in the back of my mind, I knew my problems were not over… there was more to come because when you speak that freely for so long in the public sphere, the wave of repercussions will come for you.

It started out small… people around me would do or say something stupid, and then joke, “Don’t blog about this!”, but then eventually their continual jokes weren’t jokes anymore, and it spread to other things, and I could see the stress building up on their faces, which left me stressed as well… And then one day, I might meet someone, and want to write about that special someone, but if I write about that special someone, someone else would get hurt… And then the problem gets more and more complicated and turns into something like a black hole, and then I am forced to skip around these holes that are growing in number, which in the end, defeats the purpose of this project/blog because all I want to do is write about my life the way it really happens and without any restrictions.

So last week, I decided to face the wave, and write about everything that everyone has been telling me not to write about… I knew I was going to get even more shit for it, but what I wanted and was hoping to show them was that their worries and fears were trivial compared to the bigger picture that I wanted to discuss… and… I thought I had done it- done it with words, reason, and, most importantly, with sincerity. I knew it would sting when they first realized what I had done, which was go against their wishes, but by the end, I thought I could convert them to see everything how I saw it… like the picture/story about my roommate Ian and his double chin (click here to read)...



...I knew how Ian would react when he first saw it on my site, which was basically him calling me a dick and an asshole, but I reassured him to just keep reading, and then when he was finally done, Ian got up with a big smile and gave me a hug… so I thought I could do this on a grander scale, and I thought I had done it… so before I posted it, I decided to do the right thing and show it to all the people involved to get their permission, but surprisingly- actually not surprising at all- none of them could even get past the sting… Their minds just turned into anger and then into mush… but before the mush, one person even became violent, which made me sad… so I guess you can’t reason with people’s insecurities and that even though I wanted to believe that I could help people with what I am doing, I ended up hurting others in return… and these others are the ones closest to me.

Below is the last part of External Pressures 1 (my unpublished post), which now seems silly to me now:

“What I have learned from doing this project so far, basically saying what should not be said out loud, can sometimes lead to changes for the good… My mom called me today to wish me a happy birthday. When she was done, she said she was going to pass it to my dad, which then I immediately began to sweat and feel nervous because I knew he had read everything that I had written about him online recently… I didn’t know what to expect… I wanted to tell her that it’s okay- that she didn’t have to pass the phone over to my dad- but it was too late and he took the phone, and he answered in a cheerful voice, which I wasn’t expecting at all. He then apologized for making me feel bad for so long, which wasn’t his intention- he was just worried- and the whole time this was going on, I felt tremendously relieved and could barely keep myself from choking up, so I just grunted in response whenever one was needed. And while he was explaining his side, I kept thinking about the time when we were at my grandpa’s funeral in Taiwan, and how he told me that my grandpa had never said that he loved him his entire life, but even so, my dad knew that his father had loved him... But, I am sure that it still must have been hard and carried a toll on my dad’s heart throughout his life, and if he just heard it once, it would have meant the world to him.

So I decided that I am going to talk and keep talking some more, but only about shit that needs to be said. Anyways, I am sorry, xxx, and I am sorry yyy, for sharing too much again like I always do, but, this is me and I can’t help it, and no matter what, I still love you.”



Sadly, no one got that far.

Crows Know

Day 31: Monday, April 11th, 2011

On the one month anniversary of the quake, I skated over to Shinjuku to drop off some film at the lab. For some reason, I was exhausted that afternoon, so I decided to head over the nearest park, which was actually on a rooftop of 0101 department store. When I entered the building, it was sunny out, but by the time I rode the escalator seven flights up, walked past Starbucks, and then climbed the remaining stairs to the roof, it was dark and cloudy outside. I plopped down on a wicker love seat and zipped up my jacket because the wind began to blow and then dozed off. When I woke up, it was charcoal grey outside, and crows were cawing and flying madly in the distance, which reminded me of their crazy behavior directly after the big quake on March 11th. Maybe they knew something was up? I pondered that for a few seconds more then fell back to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, I headed down seven flights on the escalator and by the time I got out, it was pouring. The weather seemed to be playing a joke on me all day. I covered my head with my skateboard to protect my hair from acid rain and entered the subway station nearby.

Later that night, Japan was hit again by three large earthquakes...

... or was it four?

Man Illegally Parked in Shinjuku