,+Manga+Museum,+Osaka+(Aquarium)+044.JPG)
Arashiyama
Arashiyama, temple and garden nearby.I have been reflecting on these past few months.
During the Summer when I was in Hakodate, Hokkaido, I think I threw away some of my preexisting emotions for happiness. At the time I didn’t think about the ones I threw away. But for the sake of happiness, I threw away my negative emotions, and focused solely on the positive. I told myself it would be the only way I would be able to survive in a foreign world. Maybe it was a defensive mechanism. Truth is, every one has a bit of positive and negative energy/emotion. The ones who always seem happy are just good at hiding the bad. In NYC I lived in a darker world, one which that I called reality. To me reality was a pessimistic, cold world.
I came to Japan and developed a bright, new perspective on life itself. I challenged everything, especially myself, to experience what is novel to its upmost potential. I wanted to make the most out of my travels. What seemed normal to most Japanese people, and maybe just people in general, I accepted with enthusiasm and glee. Meeting people and living in a different language was a thrilling experience all on its own. The technique/skill of speaking itself felt novel and fresh. I felt like I was reborn with a new tongue.
I farmed for 2.5 weeks, and then travelled on my own for about a week. In that time span I probably grew the most. I gained a sense of independence, a sense of respect, a sense of thankfulness/appreciation. Looking back, even though I was alone for most of that time, and planned my trip day by day, I was the happiest then. I learned to be happy alone; to depend on no one but myself; to stand my ground, but also to let people in; to be intimidating, but inviting. I don’t know how that happened.
I don’t like depending on people. I have always been like this. But I somehow become vulnerable sometimes because of my human social nature. I know how to be alone now and sometimes it’s hard to be with others. But sometimes I feel the need to have friends. I started school and didn’t feel the need to be clingy and make friends. I watched everyone else hastily scramble to find their click and thought it was pathetic, but it somehow it worked for most people: kudos to them. The loners seem very mysterious, and the overly talkative ones seem a little too overbearing. It’s hard to find an in-between kind of person. But somehow, after a month, I sometimes feel lonely and wish I could have made a connection with certain people. Other times, I don’t care. Even so I feel like I don’t quite belong. It’s hard because I get to choose from only a limited group of people. Eh, I like being the odd-ball out.
Anyway, I grew this sense of appreciation and have finally realized how my grandparents, especially grandmother, worked so hard in every way possible to raise me and my sister. I finally understand her love. A lot of people, especially my host family in Kyoto, have told me what a fine job my grandma did in raising me. That makes me feel like less of a failure in life. And I’m sure will give my grandma some pride. This is why I decided, for the sake of my grandma, to travel to different temples around Japan to collect their seals (I am not sure what one would call it but the gist of it is that a priest from the specific temple will write the temple’s name and etc in beautiful calligraphy for a small fee). Now when I first bought the book to collect these seals, I thought it would be nice because even thought I couldn’t read it, my grandma could, and she might like it, and also she will know where I have gone, and maybe it will bring back happy memories of Japan. But, my host family in Kyoto told me that the book has more significance than that. People travel around Japan to collect the different signatures from each temple and when they die they bury it together with their body, in their tomb and the signatures act as holy prayers that send their body to heaven. My host family told me I am doing a great thing for my grandma, and she will be able to go to heaven as a result. Pretty funky ideology is what I thought. I pay each temple about 400-800 yen ($4-$8, but some places more) to get in (admission) to pay another 300 yen ($3) for the priests signature. At some places you don’t have to pay an admission fee. Going to heaven: priceless?! I basically will have paid about $200 for my grandma to get into heaven. Not including the transportation to get to the temples. That’s totally worth it right?
On another note, it’s nice to know that in a different country, in a different language, people can understand me, they can understand who I am. It’s hard to explain, but strangely enough, in my host family’s embrace, I feel accepted and actually loved. They call me their daughter, and joke around and call me their princess. My host mom occasionally gives me back massages and they pay extra close attention to my eating habits, the foods I favor, and my sometimes-subtle attitude (which I guess is not so subtle after all, especially for Japanese people).
I’m in Kyoto now, going to school everyday, and something is definitely lacking. Maybe it’s because I am stripped of my daily adventure, but I can’t wait until fall break at the end of this month when I can spend some quality time alone temple-hopping. I’m kind of glad that everyone else in my program will be going to Tokyo. Because I am going to Shikoku (an island South of Kyoto)! When will I get the chance to go to Shikoku in the future? And why go to the generic places? People did invite me to join them in going to Tokyo, but why would a big city girl like me go to Tokyo, one of the biggest cities in the world? My relatives brought me to Harajuku (in Tokyo) in the summer and I didn’t find it too impressive. All they have it stores galore.
To get back on the subject of happiness: I think the negative emotions that I threw away in the summer have finally caught up with me. I can’t suppress them. I thought I was just a happier person here, but everyone has some negative emotions. No one person is truly just filled with happiness. Maybe it’s because I’m homesick. I finally feel the distance from my friends and family. I feel depressed. I have to admit, I never really felt homesick in the summer, even when I was alone. But at long last, I feel the pain of homesickness. And it makes me physically and mentally sick. I feel debilitated. I’m stressed and it’s the cause of my stomach hurting so much I can hardly walk. I went on a mandatory school trip to Okayama (a few towns away from Kyoto) and felt homesick for Kyoto, but now I feel homesick for NYC. I can’t say exactly what I am homesick for, but I feel this negative ball of energy consume my inner joy, and feel nothing but exhaustion. I have been exhausted for about 2 weeks, and can’t seem to shake it off. No, I do not have the influenza virus, I know that much, but I don’t feel like myself. I just want to cry and sleep. Has the weariness of travels finally caught up to me? Or am I just getting old?
There are dark corners even in Kyoto. No matter where I go there are dark corners.
I don’t necessarily want to go back to the US, or maybe I do, but rather I’d be happier if the US came to Kyoto, Japan. Maybe it’s just that happiness comes from Hokkaido and Kyushu. Maybe that’s where happiness lies--in the countryside. Maybe happiness is in the good air of the countryside. Ah-ha! I got it: Maybe pollution is a depressant!
Now I sound crazy, don’t I? Or maybe just Einstein?
I never thought a long distance relationship would be so difficult. But, I miss my boyfriend so much. During the Summer I was so busy having fun and exploring to notice the suppression of my feelings for him. But now they can no longer be kept inside and I feel them boiling within. What I would give to hold his hand for just a moment. Not seeing him is killing me. I don’t even have a recent picture. He was my source of comfort when the world had me down. I actually feel lonelier in Kyoto surrounded by people now then when I was out in the world travelling alone in the summer. Maybe I am just having a bad day.
I think novelty was what distracted me from the sadness, and the loneliness. I left NYC for many reasons, but one of them was because I didn’t feel happy in NYC. I wanted to find happiness in a different place, and I thought I could find it a far away place, like Japan. I learned something valuable: Happiness is not where you are: you can’t drink happiness from a shrine’s magical water spring, or find it in an onsen. Happiness is not in a new city, new country, or new way of life. Happiness comes from the inside and maybe I can be happy wherever I am if I think of it in this way. Or maybe I’m too young to be truly happy.
During the Summer when I was in Hakodate, Hokkaido, I think I threw away some of my preexisting emotions for happiness. At the time I didn’t think about the ones I threw away. But for the sake of happiness, I threw away my negative emotions, and focused solely on the positive. I told myself it would be the only way I would be able to survive in a foreign world. Maybe it was a defensive mechanism. Truth is, every one has a bit of positive and negative energy/emotion. The ones who always seem happy are just good at hiding the bad. In NYC I lived in a darker world, one which that I called reality. To me reality was a pessimistic, cold world.
I came to Japan and developed a bright, new perspective on life itself. I challenged everything, especially myself, to experience what is novel to its upmost potential. I wanted to make the most out of my travels. What seemed normal to most Japanese people, and maybe just people in general, I accepted with enthusiasm and glee. Meeting people and living in a different language was a thrilling experience all on its own. The technique/skill of speaking itself felt novel and fresh. I felt like I was reborn with a new tongue.
I farmed for 2.5 weeks, and then travelled on my own for about a week. In that time span I probably grew the most. I gained a sense of independence, a sense of respect, a sense of thankfulness/appreciation. Looking back, even though I was alone for most of that time, and planned my trip day by day, I was the happiest then. I learned to be happy alone; to depend on no one but myself; to stand my ground, but also to let people in; to be intimidating, but inviting. I don’t know how that happened.
I don’t like depending on people. I have always been like this. But I somehow become vulnerable sometimes because of my human social nature. I know how to be alone now and sometimes it’s hard to be with others. But sometimes I feel the need to have friends. I started school and didn’t feel the need to be clingy and make friends. I watched everyone else hastily scramble to find their click and thought it was pathetic, but it somehow it worked for most people: kudos to them. The loners seem very mysterious, and the overly talkative ones seem a little too overbearing. It’s hard to find an in-between kind of person. But somehow, after a month, I sometimes feel lonely and wish I could have made a connection with certain people. Other times, I don’t care. Even so I feel like I don’t quite belong. It’s hard because I get to choose from only a limited group of people. Eh, I like being the odd-ball out.
Anyway, I grew this sense of appreciation and have finally realized how my grandparents, especially grandmother, worked so hard in every way possible to raise me and my sister. I finally understand her love. A lot of people, especially my host family in Kyoto, have told me what a fine job my grandma did in raising me. That makes me feel like less of a failure in life. And I’m sure will give my grandma some pride. This is why I decided, for the sake of my grandma, to travel to different temples around Japan to collect their seals (I am not sure what one would call it but the gist of it is that a priest from the specific temple will write the temple’s name and etc in beautiful calligraphy for a small fee). Now when I first bought the book to collect these seals, I thought it would be nice because even thought I couldn’t read it, my grandma could, and she might like it, and also she will know where I have gone, and maybe it will bring back happy memories of Japan. But, my host family in Kyoto told me that the book has more significance than that. People travel around Japan to collect the different signatures from each temple and when they die they bury it together with their body, in their tomb and the signatures act as holy prayers that send their body to heaven. My host family told me I am doing a great thing for my grandma, and she will be able to go to heaven as a result. Pretty funky ideology is what I thought. I pay each temple about 400-800 yen ($4-$8, but some places more) to get in (admission) to pay another 300 yen ($3) for the priests signature. At some places you don’t have to pay an admission fee. Going to heaven: priceless?! I basically will have paid about $200 for my grandma to get into heaven. Not including the transportation to get to the temples. That’s totally worth it right?
On another note, it’s nice to know that in a different country, in a different language, people can understand me, they can understand who I am. It’s hard to explain, but strangely enough, in my host family’s embrace, I feel accepted and actually loved. They call me their daughter, and joke around and call me their princess. My host mom occasionally gives me back massages and they pay extra close attention to my eating habits, the foods I favor, and my sometimes-subtle attitude (which I guess is not so subtle after all, especially for Japanese people).
I’m in Kyoto now, going to school everyday, and something is definitely lacking. Maybe it’s because I am stripped of my daily adventure, but I can’t wait until fall break at the end of this month when I can spend some quality time alone temple-hopping. I’m kind of glad that everyone else in my program will be going to Tokyo. Because I am going to Shikoku (an island South of Kyoto)! When will I get the chance to go to Shikoku in the future? And why go to the generic places? People did invite me to join them in going to Tokyo, but why would a big city girl like me go to Tokyo, one of the biggest cities in the world? My relatives brought me to Harajuku (in Tokyo) in the summer and I didn’t find it too impressive. All they have it stores galore.
To get back on the subject of happiness: I think the negative emotions that I threw away in the summer have finally caught up with me. I can’t suppress them. I thought I was just a happier person here, but everyone has some negative emotions. No one person is truly just filled with happiness. Maybe it’s because I’m homesick. I finally feel the distance from my friends and family. I feel depressed. I have to admit, I never really felt homesick in the summer, even when I was alone. But at long last, I feel the pain of homesickness. And it makes me physically and mentally sick. I feel debilitated. I’m stressed and it’s the cause of my stomach hurting so much I can hardly walk. I went on a mandatory school trip to Okayama (a few towns away from Kyoto) and felt homesick for Kyoto, but now I feel homesick for NYC. I can’t say exactly what I am homesick for, but I feel this negative ball of energy consume my inner joy, and feel nothing but exhaustion. I have been exhausted for about 2 weeks, and can’t seem to shake it off. No, I do not have the influenza virus, I know that much, but I don’t feel like myself. I just want to cry and sleep. Has the weariness of travels finally caught up to me? Or am I just getting old?
There are dark corners even in Kyoto. No matter where I go there are dark corners.
I don’t necessarily want to go back to the US, or maybe I do, but rather I’d be happier if the US came to Kyoto, Japan. Maybe it’s just that happiness comes from Hokkaido and Kyushu. Maybe that’s where happiness lies--in the countryside. Maybe happiness is in the good air of the countryside. Ah-ha! I got it: Maybe pollution is a depressant!
Now I sound crazy, don’t I? Or maybe just Einstein?
I never thought a long distance relationship would be so difficult. But, I miss my boyfriend so much. During the Summer I was so busy having fun and exploring to notice the suppression of my feelings for him. But now they can no longer be kept inside and I feel them boiling within. What I would give to hold his hand for just a moment. Not seeing him is killing me. I don’t even have a recent picture. He was my source of comfort when the world had me down. I actually feel lonelier in Kyoto surrounded by people now then when I was out in the world travelling alone in the summer. Maybe I am just having a bad day.
I think novelty was what distracted me from the sadness, and the loneliness. I left NYC for many reasons, but one of them was because I didn’t feel happy in NYC. I wanted to find happiness in a different place, and I thought I could find it a far away place, like Japan. I learned something valuable: Happiness is not where you are: you can’t drink happiness from a shrine’s magical water spring, or find it in an onsen. Happiness is not in a new city, new country, or new way of life. Happiness comes from the inside and maybe I can be happy wherever I am if I think of it in this way. Or maybe I’m too young to be truly happy.
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