A return

It's been over a year since I touched fingers to keys on this blog. So long I almost forgot how to access it. What has changed since then?

Gained weight, lost a dear friend (moved away from this crazy land, not death), lost two Uncles (The Reaper this time), gained money and tax problems. Two or three relationships came and went, the time between stretching far beyond the time within, combined. Club nights and near bar fights, alcohol fuels destruction. Came close to a nervous breakdown but decided it was not worth the trouble.

Spent money, earned money, worried about my job. On balance the spending was worth more.
Drama here, drama there. Lately more friends have turned to me for repairs as I turned in tears to others for some outlet for my fears and problems.

Went snowboarding.

But what have I learned? Not much, I feel as though I've lost a lot of good things about my life and yet have gained a few in other areas. On balance...undecided.

Things that once seemed a daily confusion or excitement have changed to ease and boredom. I know nothing more about my life than I did when I first stepped off the plane. Yet, I want to feel optimistic, I strive to be of a positive mind. My friend tells me this every time we speak, at some point or another, and yet, it is not easy. Nothing in this life is.

Except teaching English.

I do not wish to sound like I have no hope, far from it. I know that all of my "problems" are insignificant and could be fixed by a simple movement, just enough to engage the inertia of my life towards a more positive direction and things will be fine from there. I'm just waiting for the right push, whatever form it may take.

My last thought of the night (or the year as the case may be) is of cats.

It snowed the other day. A thick curtain of white powder flowing from the sky only to vanish on a ground too warm to maintain any decent dusting. During this cold onslaught I could still hear the stray cats (my neighborhood is lousy with them) mating in some out of sight spot. I'm no expert but judging from the sounds and some crude knowledge that I "read somewhere" I know this must be an incredibly painful experience for both cats.

Yet they have continued in the same way for thousands of years. This makes me think of the human animal. While true, the cat's pain is a physical one I believe the only reason the species has not died off is because they've not developed higher emotional reactions and social processes.

Back to the humans. I would argue that in many (and I'm willing to admit my viewpoint is limited and slanted towards the bitter end of the spectrum) but not all cases of human mating, it is also intensely painful to the parties involved. Though we have evolved past most physical pain involvement (unless that is your personal taste) we have shifted this burden to our emotions. It may take longer for the pain to sink in but typically, except in the case of absolute eternal true love (should one believe in that sort of thing), the result of human mating is pain on some level. Sadness, regret, anger, fear, and many others are all common side effects. The question I ask is,

"Why do we care?"

The cats in the alley underneath my balcony don't care, rain, sleet, or snow. It is simply a biological imperative. For us it is not that simple. I'm sure if there were no downsides to the act the human race wouldn't get anything done, ever. Perhaps it is a good thing we care so much. I think, however, that these concerns; even if we do not want to admit to them, for good or for ill take up too much of our time. And should you disagree, look deeper into your troubles and see how fast sex comes up.

I am out of cigarettes and solid ideas so I will have to leave this thought for another time.

It's hard to come in here and try to write something meaningful. I suppose that is where the first mistake is. I often ask myself if I'm enjoying life here. Most of the time the answer is yes, rarely it's no. Yet when I went home for Christmas I found that almost nothing had changed. Some friends had moved away, others had moved back, but no one seemed to be moving forward. In part that was welcome, a comfortable familiarity that I had missed here in Japan. But as the days stretched on I missed Japan more and more. There was a reason I wanted to escape after-all.

I know no one is reading this but it is cathartic.

When I saw the "skyline" of my old college town I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. I had once thought it to be impressive. That was before I saw the lights of Tokyo stretch to the horizon. Is this the kind of arrogance New Yorkers feel when they venture South? I recently told a co-worker that I wouldn't trade where I grew up for anything and I might want to raise a family there someday. When he asked me if I missed home my answer was an immediate "No."
I enjoy my roots for what they provided me, the person the made me into. But I enjoy them where they are, under the surface. It's time to focus on what's above ground now. I'm not saying that I'll never return, but I hope it isn't soon. It's too boring back there.

On a train...

I was on the Odakyu line making my way to Shibuya when a couple got onto my car. The man looked like a typical Japanese business man, dressed in a casual suit, dark olive colored jacket, no tie, company ID still hanging from his neck on a blue lanyard. It was a Sunday night, he must have had some work to catch up on before his evening out.

The woman was in her mid-thirties, wore a modest black suit-dress with wide shoulders, long sleeves. She had clearly been in a terrible accident some time in the last few years. Icy-white scars traced the touch of fire across her face, stole the symmetry of her nose and cheeks. Her upper lip was gone, the residual grid work of skin grafts across the more vital areas of her neck. Her right hand as she held one of the straps looked crushed and abnormally square, her left covered in scar tissue as well. A car accident was my thought.

But she had beautiful eyes. When she looked down to smooth a wrinkle in her dress or to glance at her cell phone I could tell she had been pretty, perhaps even stunning. I watched through the reflection on the train door and thought I could see the sadness and pain in her eyes still. But it may have been a trick of the light. The man she was with stared intently at a train map for several minutes. Yet he looked like someone who was avoiding something, I'm sure he's seen that map countless times in his life.

But then it happened. He made a passing comment about the map or perhaps one of the ads next to it and tacked on a small laugh at the end. She leaned over to hear, smiled and gave a reply. Then she rested her chin in the crook of his elbow and rubbed her cheek briefly against his sleeve. They looked at each other and smiled again. Then it was over, she went back to her phone, he went back to the map.

I got off the train at the next stop. They continued on together.

In Passing...

I saw a girl crying on the side of the road tonight as I was walking home from the grocery store. Fall has arrived so the air was rather cold and it had rained only hours before yet she sat, or rather hunched, against a concrete wall, cell phone in one hand, lit cigarette in the other. She pulled at her smoke as though the thought of the slow death they bring was a comfort. I didn't linger. I don't particularly enjoy joining in on other people's pain, but like most moments such as these I can't help but wonder what the story behind it was.

The easiest answer would be a fight with a lover. Or a sudden break-up. She was young and this is a common pitfall of youth. Perhaps a discovery,or admittance, of infidelity, a frequent occurrence to be sure.

Or it could have been something more tragic. Perhaps the sudden, or expected yet still painful death of a loved one. Mother, Father, Grandparent, Brother, Sister, pet goldfish. Maybe her favorite band broke up today. It is impossible to guess what can move another person to tears while sitting on cold, wet concrete next to a takoyaki stand, but there she was. But the next thought that crossed my mind was will she still be "here" tomorrow. My train was delayed the other day because of an "accident". Before absolutely any train in this city arrives a kindly automated voice warns passengers just how dangerous it is to be close to the tracks. So, "accident" has become code for something much more intentional.

I'm sure that whatever left her in tears on the side of the road was nothing more than a small bump in the road that hit her at a particularly fragile moment, yet who can tell the proverbial "last straw" from a moment's glance in passing?

These are the things I think about while drinking.

Something

I'm not going to admit to anything quite yet