Please forgive me!
Dear Japan,

I'm sorry, Baby. All those bad things I said about you, I didn't mean them. Let's not let America tear us apart. That man-whore doesn't deserve me. With you is where I want to be, Japan... you know I like my men effeminate anyway. Nevertheless, I'll take my punishment as you see fit. Can we give it another try?

Your loving subordinate,
Kat

In all seriousness, I mean it when I say I've reconsidered all the bad things I said about this country when I first came here. Though most of them certainly hold true and are STILL a *pain in the ass*, I appreciate them as a "flavor" that adds something to my way of life, rather than a hindrance to my ability to cope in Tokyo.

I think I may be one of the few people, at this moment, for whom this trip has exceeded personal expectations. Certainly classes haven't met any grand hopes... but I'd say that was no real surprise. In the realm of language development and personal growth, however, what I have accomplished has blown me away. I'll talk more about language development later. What I've been fixated on recently, instead, is how *secure* I feel... in my self and in my surroundings... since I had my little "epiphany."

Though I think Michael Moor is a pompus ass, I also think his thesis about American media is true. America has created for its residents a quite prominent "Fear Culture" that reaches even the smallest towns and creates a sense of paranoia from which no one can escape. I can honestly say I've never really felt plagued by anxieties consciously on a day-to-day basis... as a strong person, I convinced myself I was exempt from that. But now that I've lived here for eight months I realize what a difference it can make to be outside of that repugnant Fear Culture and in a place where I can walk down nearly any street in the middle of the night and KNOW that I will be OK. Japan is changing, has changed even since I came here, and will change enough that I think Tokyo's sense of safety may soon be lost.

Nevertheless, this city will always be the place where I "found myself," a home I can come back to whenever I want. People have asked me, time and time again, if I think I could live in Tokyo... as in, set myself up here for permanent residence. My answer has unanimously been "no." Now that I think about it, however, I realize that is the wrong response. I already *do* live in Tokyo, albeit without the responsibility of rent, utilities and full-time work. But even as a host in a Japanese home, I have my own separate set of duties for class and commute that I can well equate to those of a normal, functional life. I see no reason that I couldn't "live" a normal life in Tokyo, even in Shinjuku, and make enough friends, have enough of a social circle, that I wouldn't feel completely comfortable.

On the other hand, I still don't think I could stay here outside the span of a few years. Part of the thrill of being in Tokyo and in Japan in general is that there is never a dull moment, even in the dullest of times. Everything is so different that it is fascinating. Though I don't doubt the small things would lose their thrill after a while (as many have already), I think the energy would just be overkill eventually. There are certainly quiet places in Japan to settle down, most within easy reach of a large metropolitan area... but I fancy that part of settling down is making a nest in a place where one is easily accepted and Japan has yet to open its doors to foreigners in a way that appeals to my sense of homemaking.

What made me realize that I already DO live in Tokyo was Hightech Luddite's suggestion that I should, now that I am "leaving," attempt again a few of the things that I tried when I first came here. I'm certainly eager to do that. In fact, tomorrow I'm going to Kamakura, a place I haven't been since October, with my host family. However, the aforementioned comment also illuminated the fact that those things I did when I first got here are now the things I do every day. As strange and novel as they must have seemed at first (i.e. riding the subway, walking through kabukicho at night, going to the convini), they are now normal and quite comforting. There isn't really *anything* that I can think of, outside of more experience with travel, that I could repeat for new results. It's all just faded into my way of life. An unexpected realization.

I used to worry that I would return to America without having found the "real reason" that I'd come to Japan. Before I left, I could list reasons a mile long for WHY I was going, but I didn't really know what I hoped to accomplish. In truth, even two months ago I thought I'd accomplished nothing here.

I just hope I can maintain this confidence when I get back to Eugene and I don't fade into the realm of being a "nobody" all over again. Living in Tokyo has made me a celebrity in my own right. Much of the attention is unwanted and annoying but even that, in its own way, has made me feel empowered. There is certainly a large portion of "positive attention" and celebrity that comes attached to being tall, white, female and blonde in Tokyo. When I first arrived, I thought I would drown in the sea of people but now, on the simplest level, I don't feel lost even when I'm in a crowd. I'm not nobody.

As a blogger, I'm now one of the ten-to-twenty writers in the Tokyo blogger network. Just last week, five of the more well, known Tokyo Bloggers gathered for Kim and Matt's going away party. Introductions followed a strange but exciting format, "Oh, you're XNAME from XBLOG? I'm..." I like that feeling. I'm well aware that at heart, I'm still a simple college chick from Nowhere, Oregon, but as an International Blogger, I've been elevated up from "trite ramblings" (despite what some may still say) to part of an esteemed circle.

Boy, that sounds egotistical.

What I mean, metaphorically speaking, is that I'm quite afraid of going back to being small. Even more than I'm afraid of going back to being afraid, I don't want to become lost. I know that I've changed a lot and look forward to my return to show me how much I have... I just wonder if I've changed enough to maintain my strength of will.

The things that I hated about Tokyo when I got here: the noise, the lights, are now the things that I love. I can walk through the Kabukicho, a place that at one time raised my hackles with its very noise level, and hear/see nothing "out of the ordinary."

This worries me. If Tokyo has become "ORDINARY," what kind of crappy Culture Shock am I in for when I go back to America? [I mean, God, tonight I saw a man dressed as Pikachu bouncing quite eagerly around the street trying to recruit salarymen for what was probably either a bar, a scam or a hostess club. I had a White Russian in a ladies-only Lesbian bar called Kinswomyn and watched as foreign men tried to enter and were kicked out. I went transvestite watching and easily saw five Shemales in one minute. This all in the span of less than two hours. Normal?]

Frankly, I'm not ready to go back yet. I'm still enjoying my just-begun love affair with Tokyo. While I don't want something negative to happen in the next two months to convince me that I desperately want to go home, I hope that I feel more ready when the time comes. Otherwise I might just be a mess. (I'll be a mess anyway.)

At least I can't say I have nothing to keep me busy when I get home. Here's a potential summer schedule.

June 27- return to US, spend night in Vancouver before driving to Seattle
July 4th weekend- at beachhouse in Rockaway, OR
Later that week- drive to Eugene for language placement and portfolio review
July 10th- Carmina Burana in Seattle
July 11th- friends' wedding
Last two weeks of July- go to Michigan with family to see relatives and old friends
August 1st-27th- (fly from Michigan to) internship in Montana with Montana Magazine
August 28th-Sept 5th- in Glacier for annual trip till Labor Day
Mid-Sept- move everything back down to Eugene, and start work for Spencer (the MAN) once again
Sept 27th- classes begin


Rock on.