Some Thoughts

A long time, so I thought I'd share some of my writing that I laid out on the ride home.

Take it with a grain of salt, as I was tired:

I sit here on the train, pondering a place in this crazy world. The guy next to me eats his dinner, oblivious to the surroundings, and the nearby schoolgirls shy away as I look up. Today I met the parents of one of the most successful UIUC graduates ever. They wished me all the luck and success their son had... which made me feel absolutely horrible. Who am I? The question runs through my mind, and I realize that I must be tired from boxing earlier, as I only get philosophical after being sleepy, drinking, or both. There is a certain discovery of self that is essential in discovering new places. I feel myself and my defenses towards change being torn down, inch by inch. It's backing me into a corner. If I can fight my way out, I'll be as I was. If I cannot, I will be irrevocably changed by my experiences. It may be the water, the air, or the people, but I am finding that losing parts of myself may be more difficult and painful than ever imagined. The only problem - I don't even know if I want to fight.

There's an okanomiyaki place right by my apartment. Instead of going bakc home, I've come here - a place with beer, food, and polite company, immersed and therefore ignored by the culture.

There's a persistant theme amongst the gaijin (foreigners) who inhabit Hiroshima. You can tell who has been here for any length of time. They change. The new gaijin are loud, obnoxious, secure in their position of authority, and resistant to the mores of the culture. The old are quiet, introspective, and realize how tightly bound they are to cultural norms and expectations. I can feel the change in me and I am ambivalent about it - which is frightening in itself. I some ways, it is welcome - I am adapting, becoming part of my environment. In other ways, I feel like I'm losing part of myself.

The man next to me lights his American cigarette with his American stainless steel Zippo lighter. Yet another scene of surreality in this country that is full of them. American style boxing is downstairs from Kendo (fighting with bamboo swords). Every businessman wears Ralph Loren Polo suits (at $1.2k a pop, no less). Strange and strange again. English language Magic cards are 30 cents less than those in Japanese. The Asahi beer cans are printed in English first, Japanese second. I am starting to understand Japanese, the alien rhythms and structures becoming clear. However, meaning - even in my own language - eludes me. Time to eat.


As for me right now, Hiroshima has turned into Homework Hell. I'm currently battling my way out. I'll let you know more when I'm free! Oh, and I have a visit to Mazda Headquarters, a baseball game (Carps vs. Giants I think), and a hot date (Yuriko!). I'll let you know how all of them go.

I feel: Going Crazy o_o