the longest semester of my life

Since I recently developed a nasty cold, my family finally broke down and gave me a real blanket. Now I sleep better at night, though that may also be due to the heavy dosages of Tylenol PM with which I self-medicate.

The weather today reminds me of home. The sky is bright and blue and the wind is blowing and the sun is shining. It reminds me of my Bridlemile days, when my mom used to take me out of school for piano competitions or whatnot, and then we'd just spend the day pal-ing around together, getting frosties at Wendy's and shopping at Washington Square. My dreams are so transparent these days.

Since I've got the floor...

There are a lot of things about Japan that I didn't expect. There are a lot of things about Japan that I did expect. I don't like to feel cheated, but I don't like to have low expectations. Sometimes there's no way around either of these things.

For instance, I expected to make friends in Japan, and this has happened. What I didn't expect was that none of them would be Japanese. To be sure, my life here is full of people, and interesting people at that. There's the Pomona people I didn't know as well before, but who now form my strongest support system. There's the SCJ kids who stuck around for the duration, and now suffer alongside me in good ol' J4. There's the JETs who somehow mistook the celebritydom of grade schools for a reason to study Japanese at ICU (oh how wrong they were). There's the artists and the writers making their way in Tokyo, livening up my evenings. There's the hapas and the APAs who I can talk to about all my favorite issues of identity, and who enlighten me as to their varied backgrounds.

But who are these people really? They're Americans. From Cali and Boston and Pennsylvania and New York and Washington, and yes, sometimes even Venezuela. They're not Japanese. Where have all the kindred Japanese spirits gone? Maybe it has something to do with the whole in-group out-group thing, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I don't live in the Japanese dorms, maybe it has just has something to do with the type of people I'm attracted to. Who really knows. But certainly, having zero conversations with real Japanese college students was something I never expected.

As Emily says, I could always go out and MAKE Japanese friends, but that's not all there is to it. I don't befriend people for their national origins, and if it hasn't happened now, nearly 13 weeks into this whole shebang, the reason for that is interesting enough. I would say it has something to do with my gender, but it also has something to do with the way that I approach people as friends.

In other news, I'd just like to say that if you play the organ, you should enter this competition in Tokyo. The grand prize was nearly FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! Sheesh man. Who knew there was so much money in organs.

I'm tired of thinking about Japan. When does this become just living, instead of living in Japan? I guess it never does. Someday we should all stop lying about this.

Random musings

host family
Originally uploaded by sillyhapa.

Here's my host mom and dad, if you wanted a visual representation for all the crazy stories I tell about them. Most recently, though, I was having a huge craving for sashimi (how Japanese have I become?), and I stumbled downstairs to the shout of "SHOKUJI RORI" (like the robot I have become) and found what else, but a pile of fresh sliced maguro, mayonnaise-filled macaroni salad, fried chicken, steamed spinach, nashi, and miso soup. Ahh, my host father had assembled a fine dinner. It's okay that we don't talk; yesterday he satisfied my foodless soul.

Etienne Pierron, our resident Frenchy, has been providing many a linguistic challenge. I feel fantastically fluent as a translator, given that my mother speaks in simple Japanese and he speaks in simple English. Oh the semantic simplicities of 2nd languages. Or, as I like to say, it's really the blind leading the blind leading the blind. Brilliant. But, sadly, he lost his organ competition, and he won't be here for much longer, so things will be back to normal at the Kuzuma household. Did I mention that my host mother tried to extort money from him? She is so hilarious. And by hilarious I mean gruesome.

I have to write an essay about how I've changed since I was a child, and although I could delve deeply into the way that my perceptions of most everything in life have been altered by this experience -- as CrisHarris might ask, is life made of watershed experiences, or do we hack at it bit by bit? -- but more likely I will talk about how I used to not like mustard, and now I do. I also used to not like onions, but now I like them in big chunks (do you think I can mention that if they're in small chunks I still find them frightening?).

sorry, dad...

tongue
Originally uploaded by sillyhapa.

Only 3 more months...

room
Originally uploaded by sillyhapa.

My new homestay family in Tokyo is somewhat of a nightmare. This is my bedroom (at least I have one to myself) -- Yes, that's a desk pushed right up against my bed; yes, there are no sheets or blankets on the bed; and yes, you can see the interior of my neighbor's bedroom straight through my lacy transparent curtains. There is no room for my luggage, no closet space, no drawers, and worst of all, no air conditioning.

My host mother, who is from Taiwan, commandeers my life in a combination of poor Japanese and even worse English, telling me when to shower, when to brush my teeth, what to eat, and everything else she can think of. She also expresses loud disapproval of my facial piercing. I am not allowed to receive incoming calls, I cannot use the family computer, and who knows what my 60,000 yen a month rent goes toward, because they are loath to even lend me a spare towel.

Besides my yammering host mother, I have a sulking, sullen high school-age host sister, and a dim-witted toothless host father. When they speak to each other, their speech is so slurry I can't tell if they're speaking Japanese or Chinese, or perhaps a language they have concocted together that consists only of consonants and wheezy barking.

I fear I will never want to leave the hallowed halls of my college campus, or that I will instead develop a tenacious craving for the pachinko parlors. At least they have loaned me a jitensha, by which I will escape every night.

Sometimes you have pink eye and an ear infection and there's a typhoon outside and you have become a deaf-mute and think that everyone is speaking to you in tongues and still you have to catch an airplane and find a motel by yourself and you think that things can't get any worse. But of course they always can, and that's the beauty of the thing. You just never know.

wherein all of the pieces of my life miraculously fit together...

I was doing a little research online (who knows what variety), and I stumbled upon a webpage called the Japan Media Review. Lo and behold, I had stumbled upon the answer to my life's quest for meaning -- an online journal dedicated to examining the practice of journalism in Japan! I mean really, what else does a girl with a double major in Media Studies and Asian Studies who is currently located in Tokyo really expect to do with her life?

Okay, just kidding, I never really intended to combine my majors into one tangible project, and the site is less than revolutionary. Still, the coincidence was more than enough to pique my interest. But wait. It gets better.

I discovered that the project was run through the Annenberg School of Communication at USC (my journalism alma mater of sorts, I like to think), and the Editor in Chief was none other than my former journalism teacher! Before I could shout "God bless Tommmy Trojan!" with glee, I fired off an email to Professor Pryor, informing him of my location in Japan, the culmination of my studies in this field, and my interest in helping propagate the project.

He wrote back almost immediately, reminiscing fondly about our days covering the 2000 Democratic National Convention together (ok, he probably doesn't really remember me, but he still refers to me as a "veteran reporter from that summer"), and mentioned that he had forwarded my email on to the students who now run the site.

Yeah, the story had a great build-up huh? But that's the end of it. No one ever responded after that, and Pryor is no longer the editor of the site. Too bad. Oh well.

In other news, I deeply regret ever posting my cartoon characters onto cafepress.com (the merchandise section of my website), because people often misinterpret it as an actual business. My Japanese relatives went a little crazy when they saw it, and told all their friends I was the shachyo of a "Lori brand" clothing company, and then made me draw pictures of them. This is bad news, I think it needs to stop.

Sometimes I feel my entire life has been a fraud. Was I ever really a journalist? An artist? A writer? A photographer? We already know I'm not really Japanese. Oh well, we will see how far I can slide along. In my postmodern view of myself, these representations of reality can withstand more than this. I think I'll just let them be.


[edit: The editor of JMR has since gotten back to me, and I am now writing for the site...that is, if I could think of the right story to write...]