Father's Day
Quite to the contrary of my expectations, I did not cry at the dinner table tonight. I was far too pleased that I managed to turn out a real meal with the family's wanna-be EZ-Bake-Oven to really consider that this might be our last real meal together with everyone at the table.

I finally found most of the ingredients to make enchiladas, with one major oversight: black beans. Though pretty much every grocery in Tokyo sells S&W Kidney beans and Chickpeas, even after calling no less than eight Shinjuku department and import stores, we discovered black were nowhere to be found.

I can tell I'm stressed because this almost gave me a breakdown. I didn't want to cook something I hadn't made in over nine months without one of the primary ingredients. Fortunately (and thankfully), since coming to Japan I've learned to stop caring about something once it can't be helped. Shoganai, as the Japanese say. Too damn bad, but the enchiladas were made with kidney beans and half-sized tortillas. Other than that, I was amazed at what came together. Had the chips, the salsa, the wacky spanish salad Host Mom made (delicious, though), the paella and even the corona and lime (I know, ick) to go with the enchiladas. The enchiladas were not only edible, they tasted just like they were supposed to, as did the cake I made for dessert. Yatta. =D

Everyone was cheerful and quite conversational (with one exception, guess who...) and Host Dad most of all. I think he was glad at the chance to have some mexican food, as he's a fan of spicy cuisine and that's not something he gets much of around here.

Even though it was Father's Day, he wasn't really presented with any gifts, outside of a Ralph Lauren handkerchief from Host Sister. But weirdly enough, she gave me one too. Then, for no reason apparent to me, Host Mom presented each of the girls there (including Host Brother's wife) with a small Isetan bag and told us it was "just a little something." Anything from Isetan can't be combined with "just a little something," nor should it. And in my experience, the Japanese only use that line when they absolutely don't mean it. So although the very random act of gifting surprised me, I wasn't surprised find what was inside when I opened the bag.

*cough* I've never owned pearls before.

I'm a terrible gift reciever, as I become horribly embarrased and feel unduly indebted, as you who have been reading for a while may have noticed. Today, as I wasn't the only one being gifted, I didn't feel as on-the-spot and I was actually really happy to recieve something that I would never have gotten for myself but liked all the same-- this is a rare occurence as I really don't care for shopping all that much and there are few things I ever can request as gifts that I'd not rather buy.

For some reason, Host Sister also gave me a five-hundred-yen pocket mirror. Maybe she heard I was doing a project on mirrors for my Tokyo Anthropology class and misunderstood? (Because I honestly hope she isn't trying to tell me a) I need one for good reason or b) I'm unbearably vain.) She also asked me today when I was going back to America. I almost died. Sigh.

Other than the success of dinner, I'm falling apart. My immune system is dying and though I'm not sick, the bacteria count in my body has obviously spawned to unhealthy levels so I'm waffling between feeling like total crap and feeling OK "with side effects." Of course, that could be a product ot the heat but I'm gonna guess it's stress.

The thing is, I really don't have that much to do. I'm taking it one step at a time and everything flows logically into the next. After Wednesday, I really can just pack up and go. But the truth is, even though I'm not feeling pressured on the surface, I'm roiling beneath. I haven't felt this lost and afraid since high school. It's as if everything I felt I'd accomplished on Japan-- all the personal growth and confidence-- is hinged on my return... and the return is something to which I simply cannot apply positive thinking.

I've been well loved and supported here and strangely what has given me the biggest sense of confidence has been the support that's come from my "family" rather than the friends I've made. When I return to America, I lose the family support network entirely and return to a nest of blood relatives who expect me to commiserate in their unhappiness and would rather heap loads of guilt and criticism upon me instead of sharing a smile or a laugh. (Needless to say, I expect to be slaughtered if either of my parents read this, which I sincerely doubt.)

So when I say I don't want to return... it's not that I don't want to return to America, it's that I don't want to return "home." In fact, it's my thought that after some brief hellos, I'm going to make it my perfectly obvious intention that I will be spending as little time in Bellevue as possible. Does this make me evil? No, it makes me sane... and I'm going to try to keep believing that no matter what anyone else tries to convince me.

On the other hand, my time here in Japan feels nearly done. I don't know how much more of the Waseda Kokusaibu I can stand (particularly the 4-days-a-week 2 1/2 hour Japanese class) before I honestly freak out at people. I have a feeling that I can attribute much of my acquired bitchiness to the format of that institution. It resembles High School by FAR too close for my comfort. Being with the same people day-in and day-out only seems to make me dislike my classmates simply for the presence of their particular aura or tone of voice, rather than taking into consideration whether I might have liked them "out of context."

In fact, as much as I've been surprised at how familiar I've become with the vast majority of people in the international programme, I can honestly say I've made mistakes making friends. The more creative, inspired and aware people, I've spurned and ignored for either their overenthusiasm or sullenness, two things which I could handle and enjoy while in Eugene but which stress me out here. I made some bread-n-butter friends, a few of whom turned out not to be banal at all (and whom I love dearly). But others who I liked for their moderate, no-stress personalities now make me want to kill myself with their manic drivel and flaky pseudo-loyalism. I did enjoy being lightened up by stepping onto the "other side," but now I think it's best for me to return to the realm of loner.

One of the best realizations I've made since coming here is that I really don't need to care if someone doesn't like me, especially if it doesn't affect my personal or professional relationship with others. It surprised me what a burden of stress was lifted from my shoulders when I stopped pandering to the people whose attention I desired and quit worrying if the people I didn't like thought equally poorly of me. As I tried to put it gently to one guy in my Japanese class, you can't like everyone you meet. Unfortunately, even that sense of self-assurance is teetering upon my impending return. I'm a mess waffling between the desire to pathetically redeem myself to the people who I'm sure think I'm the Bitch Queen and to just tell EVERYONE, including the people I still like, to fuck off and die. I don't think I've felt this weird about myself around people I know since... eh, high school. Big. Surprise.

I think I'll opt for the nice civil sayonnara and then crawl into a hole somewhere for a week to recooperate. :-X