It's getting cold out, and in honor of the changing climate I sort of accidentally ate four bowls of soup (all different): Red potato and cheddar, broccoli cheese, miso, and split pea.

I also spent the one free evening of my week sitting on my couch wrapped in a dinosaur blanket.

I bought a phone card yesterday, too, and tried to call Japan.

None of my friends answered!

I think coffee might be starting to discolor my teeth.

It's been one month and one day.

I'm feeling a lot better in a lot of ways, and that's a good thing. It's 9 a.m., I can hardly keep my eyes open at my desk--the exhaustion of 18 hour days spent between school and work has inevitably began to catch up with me--but when I think about her, I don't feel as empty as I used to.

My mind is on a lot of other stuff. Namely, the future.

I think I'm probably going back to Japan for a long time. But when I think about it I don't see myself going back because I really want to--not because it really makes me happy--but because I'm being pulled there, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's inescapable. It's what happens to be in my future, because it's what I got caught up in as an undergrad. It could have been anything, but it happened to be Japanese.

Thinking about Japan, when I'm in America, brings about this really honest, unfortunate discussion with myself.

Japan is full of asshole white guys from America, all trying to be cool, all trying to live the Tokyo life, all trying to be more Japanese than you. They speak better Japanese than you, they've lived there longer than you, and they are cold, callous people who think they've cracked the code and broken the locks that keep foreigners so separate. They offer advice the same way they offer their glances in the street: only in the most condescending fashion.

They know-it-all, and they are you, 10 years from now.

Whether I like it or not, if I live in Japan for any substantial amount of time, that's probably the guy I'll become.

They are jealous people.

I am jealous.

I get jealous when I least expect it.

I saw a picture in John's blog that brought up feelings in me I hadn't felt in a while: a dull, "your getting to have that experience and I'm not and I hate it" sort of jealousy that just kind of sits in my chest not really going up or down or away, but just festering and throbbing painfully.

It was two pictures that I saw, actually.

One of Midori and another of Kyohei, just hanging out at the old dorm, drinking with the new exchange students, singing karaoke, just existing in that shared international space next to the Odakyu line. Two people who I had extremely close bonds with, who are now building the same type of bonds over the same activities with a whole new set of people.

It's amazing that simply looking at a picture of them having fun with other, newer people can make my experience feel cheap.

Just seeing their faces makes me feel forgotten.

How wonderful and terrible it is that simple images frozen in time can affect us so profoundly!

Seeing Midori's huge eyes and long black pigtails, still the same but oh just a little bit different makes a part of me die inside, wishing I could be there in that place so that she can become tangible.

Looking at Takayuki--my best friend in Japan who was just in Lincoln living with me for a month--lead a karaoke sing-a-long with the new exchange students makes me feel more left behind than ever.

But aren't I living my life too? Aren't I having fun in Lincoln and leading my own (metaphorical, of course) karaoke sing-a-longs?

Yes, I am.

Perhaps, every now and then, those old friends of mine pick up a photograph of our good times and our spent memories and then let their minds wander to me.

It's a comforting thought, knowing that they too, can feel forgotten.

But they aren't.

And then I ask myself, is that why I'm going back, because of the emotions these images and memories wrest from me?

Is it because I'm jealous of all those foreigners, having the "Japan experience" while I sit in America, trying not to die from my 18 hour days?

It might be.

But then, I don't want the Japan experience.

I want my friends, and I want to laugh and cry and drink gallons of Asahi beer while eating shitty edamame and talking about nothing and everything. I want to do it all again, only to come home and feel these feelings all again.

What kind of cycle is this, and what's the best way to deal with it?

I don't know.

...

For a less despairing take on things, see John's blog, which looks back through a more positive lens.

Today I found some disposable camera shots I had taken during my last few days in Japan. So I scanned them, and put them online.

In today's other news, the high score on last week's meteorology test was a 90, and guess who among the 150 students in the class got it? That's right. Me! Take that other students!

So my birthday weekend didn't go all that badly. Lots of drinks, no puking, and I even bumped into someone I didn't think I'd get a chance to see.

Added a few new things: for those of you who can read Japanese, Hisayo now has a blog (linked to on the right as "Sweet Sweet Days"); also a link to my flickr photostream. I'll try and update it relatively frequently. Right now it's just pictures of my roomate puking, so if you're not into that I'd advise against clicking the link.

When I read about people's experiences in Japan it makes my heart throb, and I want it to stop.

My aspirations lie somewhere between going back to working at that bar in Japan while studying, and going to get drunk at a bar tonight.

When I think about what I've been through, and what my problems are, and I put it in perspective, I realize none of it really matters. My troubles are a speck of dust on a distant moon, churning slowly out in the vacuum of space. Insignificant, tiny, fleeting. But I guess reading about slavery all semester sort of has that effect--that is, it serves to reduce your ego just a bit.

Today is the day when I remember who loves me.

I feel fresh, and although I'm a little bit yawn-y this morning, I'm doing well.

It's the equinox, the first day of autumn, and my birthday. A day that used to be for receiving presents, eating cake and singing songs--a day that used to be all about me--has gradually become a day for the people who care about me; just as their birthdays have turned into days for me to enjoy, days to celebrate them on.

One year ago today I was eating sushi in Shinjuku with Franc.

My mouth is watering--just a little bit--right now.

I'm not really sure if I'm going to make it back to Japan in December.

I'm not really sure what I'm planning on for my future.

Lately, it feels like I've been living for the moment, spending the weekdays in a sleepless trance--work, class, gym, repeat--and the weekends clutching a drink, or a toilet, or both. Living for the moment, but all the while reminding myself about some perfectly polished plan for getting back to Japan, and then on to South America.

I'm not sure if I'm lying to myself...

I'm not even sure what's happening to me, but it's good and it's bad and it's kind of exciting to think about what next September 23rd is going to bring.

Life can change a lot in a year, and that's promising.

Maybe tonight someone will hold me in their arms and tell me everything is ok.

So my golden birthday is tomorrow: 23-years-old on the 23rd of the month.

Probably just going out to eat and then downtown, but who knows. I'm pretty sure I'll be drinking too much. Got a lot of stuff I need to forget.

If you want to wish me a happy birthday/buy me a drink/just hangout, don't hesitate to call, 402-440-6711.

I must be the tiredest boy alive.

Aside from working two jobs and taking 16 credit hours, I'm trying to manage all the shit floating around inside my brain, and it's just not going so well.

At least I'm still making it to work every morning.

But after I get there, I'm sort of just sitting, staring into the void... for hours.

I suppose I'd be a lot happier if I was studying what I wanted to be studying, taking the classes that mattered to me, instead of pounding out these ridiculous science courses simply to fill a requirement. Shouldn't a 5th year senior be taking the subjects that matter to him?

Apparently this meteorology class is going to come in handy sometime down the road... right.

But I'm missing the point, aren't I?

I should be studying more Japanese, rather than just drifting through this class with zero effort.

I should be starting that Spanish class soon, to get a foundation.

Because I've been planning the next 5 years of my life out in my head, and to be honest, meteorology and the science of nutrition don't have much of a place in it. Frankly neither does African American literature.

I just want to study languages.

Forever.

Something about writing it down means that it will come true.

...

An acquaintance of mine made it out to Japan, and is keeping a blog, which is really weird for me because--suprise, surprise--all the same Japanese people are still hanging out at the old dorm, still taking kids out to the bars, and still staying up late drinking in secret.

It's weird to see their names written down by someone who isn't me, or those who lived with me.

It's weird to think that someone is going through an experience similar to what I had, involving many of the same people.

It's also weird that I'm not there.

The greatest thing in the world is when you don't have to study, let alone even think about Monday's coming test, and yet you are able show up and ace the thing in less than five minutes.

The icing on the cake? The class just happens to be the advanced level Japanese conversation class at your university.

Word.

Sheena mentioned it the other day.

The fact that it's been just a little more than a year to the day that we all set out for Japan, totally unprepared for the effect it would have on our lives. We all had bought our plane tickets and paid our money for the course, and had some vague idea of what Japan actually was, but none of us truly knew what was in store.

I spent the first hour of my day looking through old photos, photos I took a year ago, today.

It's amazing how just looking at an image can bring back an entire feeling, a feeling completely exclusive to yourself. Something you can't really share with words or simply by showing someone the photo and saying: "yeah, this was my room in the Kenshukan."

That was your room in the Kenshukan?

Yes! That was MY room! With Pedro and Brent and three little beds and a broken sink and a window to the street and oh, how many nights did I tip-toe in at 4:30 a.m. after a lengthly chat with Hisayo or Don or Andrew or anyone; and how many times did try to enter only to find a locked door--someone was making out in there (or worse)!

That was MY room!

And my room is a memory for me... a photo "fading at the edges," yes, I suppose its true.

When I look at pictures taken in September of last year, my birth month, it brings back the weather. It brings back the trains rushing by and the sound of people much more ambitious than I, hard at work in the kitchen cooking breakfast. It brings back the big hill and the little commons area where we all took our breaks, unless of course it was raining.

... and you just want to relive those moments, no matter how mundane they may seem to everyone else.

How long can a feeling really replay over in your mind before it starts to dull? Perhaps a long time, because nearly everything for me still feels electric as hell. From that day when I saw my first Shinkansen rush by and Heather nearly jump off the platform, to some silly sculpture garden on the way to Hakone where Yuta fondled a naked statue.

Everything was so, so great.

And it always leaves me with that question, you know, where do I go from here?

Because I can always go back, but it will never be the same.

...

For now I'll just live through my photos.

I've been spending a lot of time looking at photos, lately.

I stumbled on this one of Sara and I. I remember we propped a camera up ontop of a little ladder in my room to take a picture for her mom, but it ended up out of focus. I still like the picture. It reminds me of a time in my life that I can never, ever have back.

I still have a picture up of Sara and I in my cubicle, too.

I'm not really sure why I haven't taken it down yet, to be honest.

It's a picture of us hugging at the airport, on the day I went back to Japan.

At least I'm being honest with myself now.

I'm not denying how I feel anymore.

It's pretty horrible.

Sort of makes you want to die.

I just wish I knew what changed between Spring break and June.

Last night when I finally laid down to bed, I noticed something.

That pink pillow she gave me so long ago.

It was still there, on my bed.

I clutched it and fell asleep.

I can't deal with this.

Do you ever wish you were living someone else's life?

Like when I'm leaving work just a little before 1 a.m.--the asphalt is practically coated with the sticky, autumnal moisture, the frat boys are hanging out on their porch with their sorority girls... people who aren't me are walking by--and I just can't stop thinking about how much I'd like to be one of them.

I'm just unlocking my bike, just riding home, just me. Just every night.

Nights like these were meant to be enjoyed with someone you can touch. Someone you can grip. Someone who will grip you back and stare into the sky with you and sweat with you that hot darkness.

They weren't meant to be alone.

I should have joined a frat when I was a freshman.

I can't shake the feeling that my entire life has been one big "I should have done this."

I can't stop thinking that I'm having the wrong college experience.

I hate knowing that people are out enjoying this perfect evening, and I'm... here.

When I was a kid I used to watch movies and hate the kissing scenes. Why the hell were those included anyway?

But then the other day I saw one.

It was one of those ridiculous, never-going-to-happen-in-real-life type of things: two people connect after their plane crashes on an island in the South pacific...

Pretty fantastic stuff.

But I was watching this, and it made me sort of happy.

It sort of made me forget everything for a minute, and I was that guy in the jungle, with that perfect girl. Our plane had crashed but there we were, in the moment, and everything was perfect.

And I mean, that's what movies are for, I know. To escape and to feel good, and all that.

I just feel really dumb that they affect me this way now.

I guess there's a lot wrong with me.

So this blog has been around for a bit more than a year, and in honor of that (and the fact that I'm running out of non-depressing things to write) I've decided to ask myself a few questions. Inspired by a thread over at Metafilter, I've borrowed/come up with some questions that one is supposed to ask himself once a year.

Hopefully next year when I'm doing this list I can look back and say that I've made some kind of progress in my life. And by the way, this is the first time I've ever done a list of any sort on here, so don't expect to see one again until next year.

What did you regret this year?
Spending half of my time in Japan being ashamed of who I am. All the lies. All the bullshit. All the hate. Not spending enough time with the teachers.

What did you celebrate?
Birthdays and weddings and children and the Japanese national soccer team. School and work and completion of the language program at Senshu University. Us.

Who was the most interesting new person you met?
Sara Shirk and Takayuki Hasegawa.

Who do you wish you spent more time with?
Sara, Yuki, Hisayo and the teachers at Senshu Matsudo Junior High School.

What new quality or trait did you develop (or improve upon)?
Speaking Japanese, and learning how to drink like a real college student.

What was the best use of your time? What do you wish you'd spent less time on?
Studying, studying, studying. By far the best use of my time. I wish I had spent less time sleeping.

How did your views on major issues (politics? morals? religion?) change or shift?
I'm a lot more apathetic now. That revolutionary fire that used to burn deep down in my heart is sort of gone. I just... don't... care anymore. My political views are like a deflating balloon. My morals are the same as ever.

When you review your journals in another year, how would you like to feel about what you've learned, how you've invested your time, the kind of person you've been?
That I've moved from dwelling on things and making excuses to taking responsibility and moving on. That I've spent my time learning, but not neglecting fun. That I've been the kind of person who can't hate himself. That I've been infectious, adventurous, and above all, able to bite my tongue when necessary.

Am I treating myself how I deserve to be treated?
Half-no and Half-yes. It's a long road to the top, but I'm getting there, slowly but surely.

What three things would I like to be able to write in my entry for next year that I am not in a place to do this year?
1: I can speak Spanish. 2: I'm not embarrassed to be myself. 3: I spread more love than hate.

List five things you're sure of.
My mom loves me. There are still some good people left in the world. Japan will wait for me. Self-limitations are bullshit. What we had in December was real.

What foods have your forced yourself to eat?
Natto

Who have you apologized to? Why?
To Sara, because I didn't know what to say. To Yuki, for making her cry, again and again. To Yumi, for everything. To my sister, for everything from elementary school up to the present. To my friends, for ruining things.

What excuses are you making?
Blaming Japan for things that were my fault. Blaming my hair for the way people treat me.

What would you like to steal?
Someone's heart.

What risks have you taken?
Leaving the girl I loved.

What did you chicken out of doing?
Eating meat.

What gifts have you given?
Definitely not enough.

What have you done without taking credit?
I'm not sure. (Wrong answer, I know)

Did anything make you cry this year? What was it?
Leaving Sara. Losing Sara.

What made you angry?
That there are people who are better at Japanese than me. That I can't control my emotions. That I can't yet be the person I really want to be.

What are you scared of?
Becoming unable to escape this place.

What things, activities, etc. do you most enjoy?
Speaking a foreign language. Airplanes. Soup. Hot, dark nights. Sharing a bed. Sleeping on the floor. Waking up to the sun. Riding my bike. Being drunk. Neon. Exercise. Crowded trains. Udon & Okonomiyaki. Yoyogi Park. Walking around Tokyo. Grocery stores. Sleep. Sweat. Wrapping my dreads in a towel after a hot shower. The Dirty South.

Are you happy?
Generally speaking, yes.

Do you like yourself? Do you think you would like someone else who was you?
I like myself, but I am completely incompatible as a friend with someone exactly like myself (I think...)

What is important?
Yourself. Your mom. Smiles.

By the way, if anyone decides to do this list for themselves, leave a little link in the comments, or something.

I had a dream this morning.

I was watching myself fall, against a rusty orange backdrop.

I was watching myself fall, and I was feeling the wind rush, and I was feeling the feeling that the man feels when he jumps off the Golden Gate Bridge.

I was watching myself fall, and I remember thinking how small I looked.

I told myself I wouldn't get sick and now look at me. Ugh.

Not yet.

So I told myself I was over this.

Yeah, right.

For some reason watching the football game on Saturday made me feel like crawling out of my skin and dying. I'm not really sure why.

Maybe it's because I was really hungover.

Maybe it's because I knew she was down there, in front of all those people, doing something she had talked about since before I left for Japan. I mean, she was actually there! In Memorial Stadium! Back during tryouts, I think everybody believed in her but herself.

But she was there!

And I guess the part that hurt the worst was knowing she was there, and now knowing that I'm not a part of her life anymore.

Help me get cheap plane tickets to Japan for Dec 16th - Jan 8th. The best I can do right now is $1395...

Dark houses and open windows with chrome green houseplants to keep me company...

Sinking so deep into my bed, and just letting my muscles give way to the evening as that dark air creeps in through a cracked window... music humming and a ceiling fan whirring and things being only a few degrees short of perfection.

Perfectly tired and prefectly busy; a prefect student with his bike leaning oh-just-so-perfectly in the garage--car conveniently tucked away from the firing line of those rising gas prices...

The cool night said to me that soon it will be Autumn and soon you will be 23, and soon things will take another turn and you'll be off hitting that old road again on whatever adventure chooses to find you.

Almost perfect, but still missing... that one person to share it with.

Because all the wonderfully warm evenings with their cool breezes and dim streetlights are nothing but wasted if not shared with another; though for now, looking inward for satisfaction will have to suffice.

Sometimes when I'm sinking downard in that whirlpool just before the brain drifts off--that moment when one can completely and fully enjoy the comfort of a bed, when there is no hope for return to consciousness--I think about her, and what it was like.

The night envelopes me and then I'm gone.

On the observation deck of Tokyo Tower, staring out at ten billion little stars twinkling on the wrong side of the sky; so beautiful and so unbelievable, and so perfect because not only was the night one of those mysteriously warm Spring evenings that just shouts: "Tonight is that one-in-a-million," but because she was somehow, impossibly, standing there, next to me.

It was ... breathtaking.

I'm still standing there. On that observation deck 150 meters above Tokyo, still looking out the window from which the world stares back, heart still beating that blood through my temples; still standing there, still holding the person I loved.

What a fucking feeling it was, in that dark, dark room... there were only two of us.

And I'm still standing there.

Standing at the airport, hands in pockets--planes fueling on the runway--and her, turning slowly and making her way--amid all that confusion and rush and mass of human beings the stuffy, compressed airport atmosphere--to an intercontinental jet, walking out of my life forever.

It was the last time I saw her.

I'm still standing there, on that observation deck... by myself. Looking into the void. Only a ghost remains, and somehow that stupid cliche tourist attraction, the Tokyo Tower has become the focal point of all my emotions relating to her.

Maybe it was the tears or maybe it was just the night. Maybe it was nothing at all.

...

Usually when I write something for you guys to read, I'm listening to music and typing away, and I know that it's impossible for me to really accomplish what I want: which is make you FEEL the FEELING I felt. I feel it, when I type. It's cathartic and beautiful and everything I want it to be. It's for me.

I can't really channel my feelings to anyone.

In words it was pretty much impossible to even begin to describe the swell of emotion in the pit of my stomach that Tokyo gave me, and the knot in my gut, driven by my heart, that the memory of my friends brings back... of those picnics and those long walks and talks and everything.

But as impossible as that was, I truly, honestly, can't hope to explain-even to myself--what it was like to be with her, and then what it was like to return home... to something wholly changed.

No one will ever know how much I cared, and how awful it was landing in Omaha on June 25th, and seeing the change I saw.

And I'm not mad.

And I'm not sad.

I've dealt with it, and I've been dealing with it.

...

I'm just still sort of standing there, watching her walk off.