Yeah, it’s been a while. And by “while” I mean almost five years. Because of that time gap, this post is going to run a bit long, since there’s a lot to catch up on.
For those of you who didn’t hear, I kind of quit this blog while at school because the university hired me to write weekly blogs for their honors college! It was a fun job and did enough to air the random junk tossing around my mind that this blog kinda fell to the wayside. Not gonna lie, it felt great to be paid for my writing for the first time ever. Minimum wage, sure, but it still registered as a milestone in my head.
If you’re curious, here’s a link to all of my blog posts from UMass Amherst’s Commonwealth Honors College during my undergraduate career. I had fun writing them and I hope more people have fun reading them! https://www.honors.umass.edu/category/blog-column/taxonomy/term/718
So I guess it’s catchup time. Without writing a novel for you to tackle, here’re some highlights from what you missed:
- That leg injury from Freshman year (remember the ten-foot tall snow dick?) turned out to be a benign tumor that someone FINALLY drilled out of me toward the end of my Junior year. Before that, I spent my college career in and out of a medical boot. Fun… If you want to know what that was like, check out the posts from March 15th 2015, June 5th 2015, and July 15th 2015. But it’s done now and I’m trying to build some muscle back into these chicken legs!
- I studied for a summer at Trinity College in Oxford with some other UMass students! That was weird, fascinating, hilarious, and mesmerizing. Easily one of the best summers of my life. Man but I could probably write a novella on that experience by itself…
- After twenty-one years, a handful of torrid relationships, and countless bum dates, I finally managed to get a stable girlfriend! This one thing that I had wanted so badly ever since middle school finally happened and I was only too glad to spend much of the last two years with this weirdo, nerdy, semi-goth girl. Coincidentally, we started dating only a couple weeks after my surgery and Zuzu had to put up with me hobbling around on crutches and a boot. That kind of patience was a good sign.
- I graduated with dual degrees in English (with a specialization in Creative Writing) and Western Laws & Ethics. The latter is a self-made major with the university’s BDIC program in which I synthesized, history, philosophy, psychology, political science, legal studies, classics, and religious studies. The idea was to better understand why various people and cultures think certain behaviors, actions, etc. are okay and others are verboten, how those cultural sensibilities change, and how we’ve codified them into law. Honestly, a lot more about people makes sense now. That being said, I have NO clue how to apply this knowledge to a career. It was just really fun and interesting while I was doing it.
- I applied to (I shit you not) 178 jobs between Christmas 2017 and November 2018. Despite three internships and other jobs on my resumé, couldn’t even get interviews for more than five. Now THAT’S a bad job market.
- Which brings me to my most recent point: I got a job in Japan and just moved into my new apartment.
That being said, I have yet to begin work there, so there’s nothing to talk about regarding the school or students anyhow! Heck, so far all I know is that I have an hour-long commute into Tokyo to teach in some super ritzy part of town. A middle-class white boy American about to teach a whole bunch of rich kids in a foreign country? What could go wrong?
To be honest, the adjustment has felt like someone introduced me to the wrong side of an angry mule. Even in the months before I flew over here, I wondered time and again if this was the right choice. A friend had gotten into the same program and I thought “Hey! This seems interesting and I’ve wanted to go to Japan ever since I was in elementary school! Let’s do it!” Yet, because I applied to the job that same day, I find myself wondering if I filled the application on a lark. I have had plenty of time since then and the interview to doubt myself and reconsider, yet here I am. Even so, I wonder if it was a mistake. I wonder if being accepted for an interview made me feel obligated on some level to see this through, especially since I could not get a job elsewhere.
Before I even left the United States, I had to do one of the hardest things of my life: Say goodbye to my girlfriend. That experience nearly broke my resolve then and there.
I know that sounds sappy and melodramatic, but it’s true. I have never had a romantic partner actually care for me that much or for that long, nor had I held such feelings for someone else. The pain was comparable to whenever I lost a pet, but worsened by the fact that I chose to do this. I chose to leave and place us on opposite sides of the world. And I don’t even know if I’m ever going to see her again. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried; the night before I left, the night before that, and when we shared our last kiss at the airport. Every time I turned in the security line, I looked to see her watching me, savoring every last chance I had to look at her. Then, one turn later, she was gone.
I spoke as little as I could to security or anyone else as I went to my flight. The last thing I wanted was for everyone in the airport to see me break down in tears. It was everything I could do to keep my emotions in check, but even so I had to dry my face again and again. By the time my plane to Detroit took off, I was more or less recomposed. My throat and chest still ached and I found myself staring at the seat in front of me, but I suppose that’s the best I could have hoped for. I even managed to doze off for a few minutes as dawn crept through the windows.
I awakened when the flight attendants came around. An older man asked what I wanted from the food and drink service, joking that I couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore. I asked for orange juice and whatever food he was willing to part with, as a joke in turn. He handed over the orange juice and then gave me two of everything. That in itself was a surprise.
“Do you want some vodka to go with that orange juice?” Maybe he asked it as a joke. I don’t know.
I waved him off. “No thanks. I don’t have any cash. I’ve got this rule that I only use cash to buy alcohol, otherwise it’s just imaginary money.”
He laughed. “We can only use cards now anyhow.” He made an exaggerated grimace and pout. “They don’t trust us with cash anymore.”
“Ah, that figures.” I rolled my eyes, running with the joke.
Then he slipped me a nip of vodka.
“Here,” he said. “Have one anyway. Mix it with the orange juice.”
I was stunned and laughed again. “Thanks. It’s a bit early, but I’ll definitely save it for later. Flying to Japan after this.”
“Oh boy. You’ll need this then,” and he handed me another nip. He asked if I had ever been to Japan before, how long I was staying, and mentioned how many people sitting around me were going to Korea. We kept chatting for a few minutes, just like that. Almost every time he came past after that, he took the time to talk to me.
I don’t know why he was so attentive. I had ensured that my tears were dry and my eyes clear before I got on the plane and I was confident that I had not let anything slip. He had no reason to suspect that I’d had a horrible morning. He was just friendly, generous, personable, and that made all the difference. Those little things helped put me back together. For a while, anyhow.
I still feel bad, as I did not get his name and I really had no cash to tip him with. All I managed was to shake his hand on the way off the plane and thank him again for his kindness.
The next flight, by comparison, was rather different. The flight attendant was a real pill of a woman and one of the other attendants was on the verge of shouting at some Japanese passengers to put their luggage away and sit down, as if talking louder and angrily would help bridge the language gap. You’d think that Delta would have put all of the real nice Americans on that flight to leave a better impression.
Their demeanor kind of put a damper on my mood again. Furthermore, about halfway through the flight, I thought “I can’t even understand the Japanese attendant’s announcements! How the heck am I supposed to survive in Japan?!” I was sleep deprived and hungry, both of which compounded my anxiety, regret, sadness, and everything else. Thing is, sleep would not come either.
I tried time and again, but the moment I fell asleep, I dreamt of Zuzu, just to wake crying in mere minutes. I couldn’t help but think of that Skillet song “Don’t Wake Me.”
Don’t wake me,
‘Cause I don’t wanna leave this dream.
Don’t wake me,
‘Cause I never seem to stay asleep enough
When it’s you I’m dreaming of.
I don’t want to wake up.
It hit just a little too close to home.
I wondered just how much I was giving up; whether I’m surrendering a chance to really be happy. I’m wondering too, though, whether Zuzu and I would have stayed together if I had remained in the States. Already, we had been going in different directions. She was still at school, I had graduated, and I was lucky to see her twice a month. The chances of us staying together after I got a job and after her own graduation? Who knows? Maybe this is a pain that I would have had to endure one way or another eventually. Still, it’s going to be much harder, I think, now that I am essentially alone and in a foreign country.
Soon after that thought, I discovered that I could text on the plane. Chatting with Zuzu made everything a lot more bearable, at least until she needed to sleep. Lacking WiFi at my apartment, it is difficult to stay in touch with her, since I have to walk fifteen minutes to the convenience store to mooch off of their network until my landlord gets their act together and restarts my system on April 5th. Time at the convenience store is limited, though, so I have to use it primarily to answer emails and take care of matters for my job and other pressing issues.
I know, I sound like a complete sob story and that I am just wallowing in misery. I mean, yes, it hurts, and this transition period has been nearly devastating (at least to my bank account), but there has been plenty of good too! The company’s training was fun, I’ve met some great people, and it turns out I live almost next door to some coworkers, though I cannot say as I am especially close with them yet.
I guess next week’s post will be more about the transition to Japan itself, training, and various other things. Again, I also promise that future entries will be shorter.
Until then, though, here’s the Song of the Week, just like old times.
This one goes out to you, Zuzu.
“Don’t Wake Me” by Skillet
