Why I'm a terrible photographer

So, as I just wrote to someone on Facebook, I have issues with taking pictures. Being an artistic person, I actually do like to take pictures-- but the catch is that there can't be any people around. So most of my pictures are of random objects in isolated places, or of myself with random objects in isolated places. It does get kind of old, especially since I think the most interesting pictures involve people. But whenever I decide to take a picture of anything anywhere where there are lots of people milling around, my inner monologue goes something like this:

"Okay, I'm going to slip my camera out of its case, and turn it on inside my bag so I can whip it out at a moment's notice. Okay, there's no one in the way so maybe I can take it now... Oh, wait! That guy is looking at me. I'm not a weird tourist taking pictures of this perfectly normal sign, mister, really I'm not. See, I'm just standing here spacing out like a perfectly normal person... Okay good, he looked away. Better get this done quickly. A quick look around again to make sure no one's watching, spot the target, and, bam! Okay, it's done. I hope no one saw that..."

Then of course when I go home to look at the picture more closely, it's all blurry or off-center because I didn't take the time to focus it. They say that with a digital camera, you're supposed to just snap a ton of pictures in succession so you have a better chance of getting some good ones... But I only take one (or maybe two if I'm really brave), and they usually turn out sucky.

Thus, most of my pictures from Thailand are... Well, sucky. And that's only because I forced myself to take a few. I have practically no pictures (that I took myself, anyway) from all this time I've been here in Japan. For some reason I just hate the idea of looking like a tourist or a "weird foreigner" (even though I really am a weird foreigner, even though being a weird foreigner is actually not a crime, and even though it really doesn't matter what random people think, anyway).

I think I need to fix this problem. Because it sucks not having pictures to share with people, and to look back at and remember things later.

Unfortunately, my camera (which I'd hardly used at all anyway) broke halfway through my trip in Thailand, and I'm not about to go out and buy a new one unless I'm sure I'm going to use it. I do have my cell phone though, which takes not-such-good-quality little pictures like this:


(This one is from Thailand, at some ancient temple ruins. It was windy. And there were no people within eye-shot when I took this.)

The great thing about a cell phone (for me anyway) is that it's not as obvious as a camera-- people can't always tell you're taking a picture with it. So maybe if I try taking lots of pictures with my cell phone, it'll help me get used to the idea?

I think I'm going to try it. We'll see how well I'll follow through with this, though.

Passions

I have many passions, but I don't seem to be capable of juggling many of them at once because they come and go in very intense spurts. These "spurts" can be as short as a few days or as long as several years.

For example, as you can see from my last post, a couple of weeks ago I suddenly felt inspired to start drawing. This particular spurt was very sudden and extremely intense. For about a week or so, I could think of nothing else but drawing. Every minute of free time I could find was dedicated to it. I got so into it that I forgot to eat and sleep properly. I couldn't bring myself to do anything else, not even study languages (even though I felt guilty about it). It was so intense that I was actually kind of afraid I'd never feel motivated to study languages or do anything else again. I mean, it was fun, but I found myself feeling relieved when it finally calmed down, all the same.

And calm down it did. Right now, there's an unfinished drawing hiding in a minimized window on my computer screen. It hasn't been touched for several days now, and I have no idea when (or if?) I'll finish it. I don't have the space in my brain to concern myself with it-- because right now, I'm obsessed with learning Chinese.

Yup, the language thing came back. It's funny how this happened, though. I now feel absolutely no desire whatsoever to study Thai, even though I was crazy about it for over a year. As for Chinese, I first started learning it in January of 2005, during my second year of college. I was learning Japanese at the time, and wanted to better understand Chinese characters (because they're used in Japanese too). I was also just itching to try learning another language, and Chinese seemed as good as any. (And ooh, there's a study abroad program in China, and ooh, it's so nice and pretty and shiny! *__*) My roommate at the time was doing the same major as me and taking both Japanese and Chinese classes. I was taking Japanese and French. (Yeah, you'd think that'd be enough, right?) Then in January, I started secretly studying Chinese on my own. Yes, secretly, because for some reason I didn't want my roommate to know I was studying it. I think it's because I was weirdly competitive about it, and felt like I had to know Chinese better than she did before I let her know I was learning it. Pathetic, I know. I was also just overly self-conscious in general and didn't feel comfortable doing pretty much anything in front of pretty much anyone. I don't know how I ever survived in a college dorm room.

Anyway, I studied Chinese on my own until the following autumn, when I spent a semester abroad in Beijing. I learned a lot of Chinese during that time, but as that semester came to an end and it was time to return to the states, I realized I still didn't know Japanese as well as I wanted to and needed to focus on it some more. (OMG, I don't know this word; Oh no, I can't read this book!!!) So I dropped Chinese and went back to cramming Japanese into my brain until just after I graduated later that spring. Then I felt guilty for not "finishing" Chinese and decided to go live in Taiwan for a year to improve it. While in Taiwan, I decided that life sucked and I didn't care about Chinese anymore, so I sat around my apartment watching mostly Japanese TV and reading Japanese books. Then I was just like, "screw this", and moved to Japan.

My personal feelings toward the Chinese language at this point were that I just wasn't fond of it and probably wouldn't ever go back to it, and whoever had anything to say about it could go eat stinky tofu (Real food in Taiwan, by the way. Taiwanese food is amazing in general, but that stuff is horrendous). So I forgot about it completely. I was happy living in Japanese land for a couple of years, and then in the dream world of Thai in my head for a year or so more. Then I went to Thailand and was disappointed, and I was like "Screw this. I should learn Chinese instead."

Then suddenly Chinese was beautiful to me, and I was determined to own it. And now here I am. I've broken out the Chinese translation of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone I bought in Taiwan (Yes, I have that book in Thai too, and in French, and Japanese, and I must have the English one somewhere. And I don't really give a darn if you think I'm crazy), completely untouched for three years. I started trying to work through it three years ago and stopped at the first page. When I picked it up about a week ago, the first page was covered with highlights and penciled-in notes, while the rest of the book was completely untouched. Now the entire first chapter is covered in highlights and I've filled about half a notebook with notes. I can almost read it all now. And this is only part of all the studying I've been doing.

I'm making it sound like most of my "different passions" consist of different languages, but that's not entirely true. It is true that languages in general are one of my greatest and most consuming passions. But there are others, too. The above-mentioned passion for drawing consumed much of my childhood and teenage years. It left suddenly, completely, as soon as I got to college. I'm not sure if it just decided to come back for a week recently, or if it's going to show up every now and then. I kind of hope it's the latter (especially since, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit, I kind of went and spent a lot of money on a certain tool for drawing on the computer...). My other greatest passion is singing and songwriting. In my last two years of high school I thought I was going to become a musician, and I even majored in music in college (only to change to Asian Studies later, of course). I was in choir and sang at church and wrote a ton of songs, though unfortunately I was never able to get most of them out of my head and into a form that could be shared with people because my skills on the piano weren't that great. A few months ago, though, I suddenly felt I needed to play the piano, so I went and bought one of those cheap little electric keyboards with only like, 20 keys. I couldn't do much with it obviously, but I was lost in music for a month or so, trying to play every song that came to me. It was nice. I still play with that keyboard every once in a while.

There are other random things too. For a few months recently I had it in my head that I might want to become a diplomat, so I went and bought a load of books about history and economics and politics and read like crazy. I read the news every day, too-- something I'd never done before. In the end I decided I don't really want to be a diplomat after all, but I did learn quite a bit. Once I went through a phase where I tried to learn how to meditate. I've had a cooking phase, and an exercise phase, and probably some other phases I'm forgetting at the moment.

You see, people?! This is what it's like to be me. I never know what's coming. And I can't stop it. I really can't.

Some people might say I'll never accomplish anything if I keep switching between different interests. Honestly, I used to think so too, but recently I've been seeing things differently. You couldn't say that I've accomplished nothing. I'm pretty good at drawing, and it really comes in useful sometimes. I'm a good singer, and even though I'm not an amazing pianist, I can use music as an outlet and a way to enjoy myself. I can speak Japanese almost to a near-native level, and I know a couple other languages at least well enough to get by. That's not nothing. I don't want to sound boastful, but I kind of need to lift myself up a bit because honestly, I've put myself down way too much in the past. Well screw that.

I'm going to go learn Chinese now.

Drawing

It's been years (seriously) since I last picked up a sketch pad and seriously drew anything, but today I suddenly felt inspired and spent six hours doing this with an online paint program:



And I did it all with a mouse. My pinky is sore... @@;

The girl is a character I've had in my head for a long time. Her name is Kaiyinn and she can communicate with animals. Recently I've envisioned her with a white tiger as a companion, hence the picture.

As a teenager I used to do things like this all the time. Drawing pictures and making up characters, etc. I don't know why I stopped, but one day I just didn't feel like drawing anymore. I wonder if it's come back? I did have a lot of fun doing this!

******************************

Edit: I just drew another one today. Six hours again. Maybe it really has come back? @@;


I don't know, she's... some hot chick. XD I also thought I'd been drawing too many skinny white girls and needed to break away from that a bit. ^^; I'm quite happy with how this turned out!

Thailand-- or "The place I never quite made it to"

When I first left for Thailand, I imagined myself coming back two weeks later completely invigorated, bursting with exciting stories that I would rush to my computer to write out while they were still vivid in my mind. I saw myself falling completely in love with Thailand and its culture and its language all over again, beyond the point of no return, ready to dedicate myself to its mastery like never before. I was sure Thailand would be everything people had always told me it was, everything I had dreamed it would be.

But the reality was very different. By the end of the trip, I felt like I couldn't get out of Thailand fast enough. I rushed home not because I couldn't wait to start blogging, but simply because I couldn't wait to sleep in my own bed. I dreaded the hour when I'd eventually have to sit here at this keyboard. It's not that there's nothing to write about-- there are many things to write about, naturally. But they are very different from what I expected, and I've put off writing about them until now because I didn't want to face them. I've also been sick with a terrible cold and stomach problems (I guess my stomach couldn't quite take the food in Thailand) ever since I got back, but that's more of an excuse than anything.

The trip certainly started out well enough. The six hour flight, on the Japanese airline ANA, was really quite pleasant. The in-flight announcements were broadcast in Japanese, heavily Japanese-accented English, and Thai. I was pleased to find that I could understand more of the Thai than I could of the English (seriously). I was also very happy that the flight attendant didn't speak English to me-- she addressed me in Japanese when she saw I was reading a Japanese book (a guide to Bangkok, which I was happily engrossed in for much of the flight). Towards the end, I pulled the Thai version of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" out of my bag and studied it with a very satisfying gusto for a good two hours, managing not to care one bit what the Japanese guy next to me thought of it. Every once in a while I stopped to gaze out the window and saw some very nice scenery, especially when we flew over Okinawa.

When we finally arrived at the airport, I was getting really excited to finally get a chance to use my Thai. My eyes darted around reading all the Thai signs, my ears alert for any signs of the language being spoken. Almost everyone around me, though, was foreign. My first disappointment on arriving in Thailand was the experience of waiting to go through customs in an endless sea of foreign tourists. There were people from all over, and it was interesting-- around me I heard German, French, Japanese, and some form of Chinese. But as far as I could see in all directions, everyone was waiting behind one of the signs that said "foreign passport". They were all standing there with their backpacks and their cameras and their overdone suntans, like a small army ready to take over the whole country. I knew Thailand was a popular tourist destination, but this was overwhelming. Around me, there was not one single Thai person. I wondered how much of "Thailand" would be left after this wave of quintessential un-Thainess was done crashing through it.

Unfortunately this unpleasant first impression turned out to be a theme that continued to rear its ugly head throughout my time in Thailand. Much of that time was spent, often unsuccessfully, trying to escape it. Trying to dig my way through the thick sludge of tourism that lay on the surface, and to find the "real" Thailand. Once in a while I caught glimpses of it, reached out to grab it, and almost, almost grasped a bit of it and made it my own. But I never quite got there. I didn't have enough time, I didn't have enough resources, and the sludge was just too thick. And I think this is what lies at the heart of my disillusionment.

It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't already invested so much of myself in this country. If I hadn't spent the past year and a half (albeit on and off) studying Thai-- if this language hadn't been my joy and my comfort and my escape for so long-- I could have just shrugged my shoulders and said "It's a nice country, but the overload of tourists kind of ruined it. Oh well. I'll just choose a less hyped-up place for my next vacation." But I couldn't. I had sold a piece of my soul to this place. It was like falling in love with someone only to come to the realization, much too late, that they just don't love you back. It was painful.

For me, traveling is not about taking nice photos. (Incidentally, my camera broke a few days into the trip, and most of the few photos I did manage to take are crap. The above picture was taken with my cell phone.) It's not about "seeing the sights". (Sure, I do enjoy visiting tourist attractions once in a while, as some of them really are impressive. But they are far from the most important part of a trip.) It's not about sampling exotic food (though Thai food is delicious), or relaxing on a pristine beach. (I didn't even go to the beach on this trip actually, though I did want to. But again, it wasn't important.) For me, traveling to another country-- especially a country whose language I've studied-- is about getting to know its culture, experiencing life first-hand through the eyes of its people, and hopefully finding the best parts of it and making them my own. For me, being completely lost in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire on my rented bicycle and getting directions from the lady selling instant coffee on the side of the road, who called her husband over to put air in my tire (yes, that really happened!), was a far more valuable experience than any guided tour on an air-conditioned bus. Such experiences are what I thrive on, but in Thailand they were few and far between. Part of it was due to the pervasiveness of the tourism industry, and part of it was due to my own weakness in not being bold enough to break through. Somewhere inside I'm afraid it's mostly the latter, but maybe you can help me decide.

Part of me wants to keep avoiding it, but I know I have to get this out of my system. I have to share my experience, just the way it was. It wasn't all bad, after all-- there were some very good moments. Maybe if I write them all out, I can get myself to believe that the real Thailand is still in there, somewhere. And that it really would be a place worth getting to.

You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm going to wrench it all out of myself over the next few days. I'm grateful to anyone who cares to come along.

ภาษาไทยเรียนไปทำไม?

I first became interested in going to Thailand when I was living in Taiwan in 2007. Some of my fellow English teachers had traveled to Thailand and came back absolutely glowing, raving on about how wonderful it is. How beautiful it is, how good the food is, how nice the people are. They were so enthusiastic about it that it made me want to go myself. Even after that, I continued to meet people who sang praises of the "land of smiles", as it's called. Apparently there's something about Thailand that draws people to it.

So I decided that I would definitely visit Thailand one day. And about a year and a half ago, just for fun really, I decided to try learning a few basic phrases in Thai. Little did I know that I would fall completely in love with the language and end up studying it seriously. I learned the alphabet, and started trying to read it, and I just kept going. I didn't really know why I was learning Thai. I had no immediate practical use for it. But I just couldn't stop. I guess it was meant to be, because I've kept up my study of Thai to this day (admittedly with a few breaks along the way), and I've reached what I'd call a solid intermediate level. (I've been spending a lot of time watching Disney movies dubbed in Thai, among other things.) =D I'm pretty sure I can have a basic conversation and understand at least the gist of what people say.

Now I'll finally get to try it out for real, because I'm leaving for Thailand on August 2nd and will be staying for two weeks. I plan on exploring Bangkok and volunteering at an elephant park in Chiangmai. (I've always wanted to meet an elephant!) Other than that, I don't have any specific plans. I prefer to go with the flow and figure things out when I get there.

I bet someone is thinking, though, "You're so weird, Jana. Why on earth would you learn Thai?" The only reason you might really need it is if you were going to live in Thailand. (Though you could argue otherwise, considering that some people actually live in a foreign country for years and never learn to speak the language!) Knowing Thai isn't really necessary if you're just going to travel (though obviously it would help). None of the people I know who traveled to Thailand could speak a word of it beyond simple greetings. Thai isn't a major world language or the language of an economically advanced country, so it wouldn't give you much of an advantage career-wise. There aren't many Thais living abroad either, and those who are probably speak the local language. Practically speaking, it just doesn't seem to make sense.

But honestly, I've never been a fan of doing things just because they're practical. "Practical" is a word for people who are comfortable keeping things just the way they are and staying on the path everyone else expects them to take, and who never feel the need to do anything different. But I want different. I need different. Forget practical. Practical makes me bored out of my mind!

Really, the same person who asks why anyone would learn Thai might just as well ask, "Why did you bother to learn Japanese, anyway?" Japanese may seem more "practical" than Thai, but it's not that much different if you think about it. I grew up in a small town in the United States. There were no Japanese people around me, or at least none who weren't completely Americanized. I had no interest in going into business in the automobile or technology industry, or any other field in which Japanese might be particularly useful. I didn't even want to teach English in Japan, really (though I ended up doing so anyway as a means of coming here). I didn't "need" to know Japanese at all. There are a million other paths I could have taken, many of which society would see as more practical choices.

But I wanted to know Japanese. I didn't need a reason. I never asked myself why-- it just made sense. I wanted to know Japanese so badly that I just had to learn it. And so I just did. Then I came to Japan, and I made Japanese a part of my life, a part of my very soul. By doing so, I made it "practical" for myself in every way that matters. And I don't regret it one little bit.

Though to this day, people still ask me why I learned Japanese or why I wanted to come to Japan, and I still have trouble answering that question. People expect me to say that I like anime or Japanese food or karate. I mean, sure, I do like those things. But none of them are the reason why I learned Japanese. There is no reason.

I think people these days are too hung up on finding a reason for everything. They're too hung up on so-called practicality. If you tell them there's no reason, they get lost and confused. But let me tell you something. (shh, it's a secret!) You don't have to do something because you can make money from it. Or because your parents want you to do it. Or because your boyfriend/ girlfriend wants you to. Or because anyone wants you to. Or because it will make you look good. You only have to do something when you want it more than anything, because you know it will make you happy. And if you're happy and fulfilled doing something you love, you'll be contributing to the good of the world in the best way you know how. Don't ask yourself why-- just do it. It will make sense eventually.

Summertime

For the past couple of months I've been participating in something called the "travel forum". It's basically just a bunch of people who like to travel and meet once a month to talk about it. They have panelists who talk about their experiences and share pictures and such, and everyone else listens and can ask questions afterwards. When it's all over, those who want to go out for drinks and conversation.

I've only gone twice so far, but it's been a lot of fun and I've met some really cool, like-minded people. They've also held some other random events and get-togethers, one of which was last night. We basically just all gathered at a restaurant serving different kinds of ethnic food. I saw lots of people I'd met before and some new faces, too.

One of the girls who went was kind enough to lend me her yukata, which is like the lighter summer version of a kimono. I say "lighter" because an actual kimono has more layers and is much more complicated, but even so, a yukata isn't exactly comfortable. There are several pieces to it that are rather difficult to put on correctly (my friend helped me put it on-- most people can't do it themselves), the fabric is scratchy and rubs against your legs in a way that makes it difficult to walk, and it's really too hot for Japan's sweltering summers. Even so, it's considered a trademark of summer and you can always see a few girls (and sometimes guys) wearing them this time of year, with a fan tucked into the back of their obi (the belt-like part around the torso), probably on their way to some sort of festival or firework show.

So it wasn't comfortable (probably largely because I just wasn't used to it), but still, it was fun to try wearing it and I got a lot of compliments from people saying it looked good on me. =D


(Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I chopped all my hair off. I think I like it this way though!)


The guy in the middle had just arrived in Japan and didn't know how to use chopsticks, so we were trying to teach him. He learned pretty quickly though!


Haha... Fail shot! XD


And this one turned out really blurry. =/ Oh well. It was a fun night!

Next month they're going to get together at a firework show, which unfortunately I can't go to-- because I'll be in Thailand at the time. =O I'm taking advantage of the gloriously long summer vacation I get as a school teacher and going to Thailand for two weeks! I'm really excited about this, because I've wanted to visit Thailand for a long time now. That's for the next post, though!

Finally, I'd like to end this post with a couple of "Engrish" signs I discovered around Yokohama this past week.


Sorry the picture isn't very good, but it says "The coffee of an Italian tomato is very delicious. Please relax on the inside of a shop carried out calmly. Don't you take breath, either?"


What on earth is "in Haenza"? (It's actually supposed to be "influenza".) It's like someone just took a guess at how it might be spelled in English, and failed miserably. XD

Anyway, that's all I have for today. Next time, Thailand!

I'm back!

"Adventures of the Directionally Challenged" started on Xanga back in 2005. I started it as a way to share my travels and other exploits with my far-away family and friends. Before long, it also became a place to vent as I struggled with loneliness, low self-esteem, and depression. I continued writing until February 2008, during which time I traveled to Russia to visit a friend, studied in China for three months, finished my college studies in Michigan, was a counselor at a summer camp in my hometown (Centralia, Washington), taught English in Taiwan for a year, and worked as a cashier at a Quiznos restaurant in my hometown for six months. Then, all of a sudden, just as I was about to leave for Japan, the place I had always dreamed of living in, I just stopped writing.

There were a few reasons for this. Part of it was because I thought I had finally gotten to the end of my proverbial road. I was living in Japan, just like I had always wanted. I wasn't "lost" anymore, and thus the title of the blog seemed void. I even had a boyfriend, and everyone at home was happy for me. I should have been happy. Right?

Indeed, there were lots of good things about the two years I spent in Gunma, the so-called "belly button of Japan". After all, I wouldn't have decided to stay for a second year if I were completely miserable.


(See? Smack-dab in the middle.)

I had a job I enjoyed...







And I worked with some really cool people.



I had a nice apartment in a nice, peaceful neighborhood...





I rode my bicycle to work every day, which was wonderful in the spring and fall (but not so much in winter!), I could wander around alone in the middle of the night without worrying for my safety, I had nice schedule with plenty of time off each week to pursue my interests, and I got to use Japanese all the time (I became practically native). Looking back on some of the good memories almost makes me wish I would have stayed.

But there was a darker side to the picture, too. My relationship with the above-mentioned boyfriend was extremely unhealthy. Another part of the reason I stopped blogging was because I was so consumed by that relationship, I hardly had the energy to think about anything else, much less write about it. He wasn't a bad guy, but his good intentions just kind of backfired and ended up making things worse. It's a long story, but basically the relationship had a very negative effect on my self-esteem. Deep down, I knew from the beginning that something wasn't right and it wasn't going to work... But I couldn't walk away because I was too afraid of being lonely. The crazy thing is, though, I was far lonelier while I was in that relationship than I am now as a single person. Loneliness is a strange thing.

As my second year in Gunma was coming to an end, and after I finally mustered the courage to put an end to that relationship, a very strange feeling started to creep up on me. This feeling was so unexpected that I tried to deny it at first, but it seemed that, unbelievably, I was getting tired of Japan. Me, who had known I wanted to live here since I was twelve. Me, who was told by all my Japanese friends that I was more Japanese than they were. Me, who had never felt like I belonged in the states. For years I'd been convinced that I would live here for the rest of my life, but all of a sudden I found myself wanting to leave. The feeling itself was familiar. The best way I can describe it is as extreme restlessness. Like I'll just die of unbearable boredom if I can't get away from this place right this minute. I had felt it before, back in the US. I'd just never expected to feel it here.

Then the wheels started turning a million miles a minute. I thought about taking a year off to travel the world. I thought about going to teach English in another, completely different country, like Russia or Egypt or Korea. I thought about applying to be an au pair in France. Or joining the peace corps.

Then I slowed down, and I got scared. What if I ran out of money? What if I couldn't find a job in another country? What if I ended up getting stuck teaching English for the rest of my life and hated it? What if I ended up feeling terribly homesick for Japan, after all? What if, what if, what if. The idea that "Japan is where I belong" had been so deeply entrenched in me for so long that it was just too scary to throw it out.

So I sucked it up. I went back to America to see my family for a couple of weeks (and I did visit my friend Alyona in Azerbaijan, an interesting trip which I'll have to write about later), and then I came back to Japan. I told myself that maybe if I moved to a big city, it would be exciting enough to scratch my itch for adventure. So I aimed for Tokyo, and ended up in Yokohama, which is almost just as good. (Yokohama is pretty big and lively itself, and is only about 30 minutes away from Tokyo's central districts.) So here I am, living in a share house with six other people and teaching English at a girls' high school.

I have to admit, at first I was kind of miserable. I knew I had made a big mistake coming back. I hated my job, and I wanted to leave Japan more than ever. The fact was, though, that I was stuck, mostly because I simply couldn't afford to leave. I had spent too much money on plane tickets, and shipping things back and forth-- and I still had to make payments on my student loans. I felt hopeless.

Then somehow, things got better. Through a few very fortunate positive influences, I began to realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I truly did fall in love with Japan at twelve years old, I got a lot of good things out of it and now I have many fond memories in this beautiful country that's sure to be a part of me, in some way, for the rest of my life. But maybe I just got what I needed here, whatever it was, and now I'm ready to move on. And that's okay. It sounds simple, but it was a huge revelation for me.

I also learned to see my job in a different light. Teaching English may not be something I'm incredibly passionate about, but it's something I can do reasonably well without too much effort (I've been doing it for three years, after all). The people I work with are pleasant. And when I'm not teaching classes, I actually have lots of free time at work during which I can read books or study languages (what I love to do most in the world). I get lots of vacation time, too-- and I get paid for it! What was I complaining about?

Besides, the thought that this will in all likelihood be my last year in Japan sort of makes me treasure my time here more than I would otherwise. I want to make the most of it, so I can leave without any regrets. (I remember spending a whole depressing year in Taiwan, then spending one amazing week traveling around the country and thinking, "If only I had gotten out and done something instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I might have fallen in love with this place.") I want to do all the things I know I'll wish I would have done if I leave without doing them. And to write them down so I won't forget.

And I'm going to post those things here because I've finally realized and learned to acknowledge, for the first time in my life, that I am an interesting person, I have an interesting life, and I have interesting things to say. And it would really be a waste not to share it.