The Biggest Non-Decision Ever

It arrived.

Recontracting papers.

Though really, this was a non-decision. I came here knowing it was only going to be for a year. Though I told myself "I'll be open to whatever happens, if I feel like I should stay another year, then I will." But when I actually had the papers in front of me it took all of two and half seconds to think about it, circle my intent and sign my name.

Not at all because I can't wait to get out of here. Leaving is going to be unbearably difficult, I know it already. And honestly the thought of how hard it will be to leave almost tricked me into staying.

But then, like in crazy action movies where the hero is in a stalled helicopter and manages to restart the rotor just before it hits the ground, my brain restarted and saved me from disaster.

"Seriously, it's time to get on with life. Do you honestly think you will do this forever? If you stay another year the likelihood of going back home, not to mention medical school, decreases exponentially. And then what do you do? Do this for the rest of your life? I don't fucking think so. It's a great break and a great experience, but it's not a life."

That's what ultimately got the rotor restarted. And I know I'll leave with the regret of knowing though I spent a year here I barely scratched the surface of what I could have experienced. But honestly, how much would another year deepen my connections here?

And maybe paradoxically that's why I'm leaving; I'm tired of just scratching the surface of everywhere I go. It kind of makes my throat seize just typing this, but I'm tired of living a life of scratching the surface; I want to settle. I want to find a place, find someone permanent, start my career and get the show on the road already.

I can't fucking believe those words just left my mind.

It's certainly true that teaching English in Japan could be my career I guess, but it took me all of three months to realize this job provides only the most superficial of satisfaction and I could never live with myself if I had to do this on a permanent basis.

Admittedly, if I was just biding my time, not sure of what to do next with my life, I would definitely stay. And I don't look down on people who say they get genuine satisfaction from this job (though I am suspicious). But when you compare being a permanent outsider teaching an irrelevant and generally non-applicable subject to beginning a career in medicine, where you are thoroughly in charge of your own life and are so revered (for serious lack of a better word) that perfect strangers willingly consent to your cutting them open, I don't think there's really a decision to make.

And you know what, it took me coming here to realize it. Before I came here I was just going to medical school because, what the hell, what else was I going to do? But now I'm closer to realizing that nothing else will give the kind of challenge and satisfaction I need. I'm still terrified of selling my life in trade for a medical career, but I'll worry about that when I get there, and I think it's safe to say that I'm a strong enough person that I won't allow that to happen.

So to any desperate JET applicants who have just sent in your application and are reading this, here's one more opening.

Maybe I'll be that faceless, mysterious Predecessor who emails you one random day in June.

Pop Culture Tuesdays XVIII

I was about to post something contemplative when I caught myself.

"No. No more of that shit. That'll be like the forth post in a row.", I said to myself.

While this post is far from demanding any serious soul searching, it is one of the more legitimate, interesting Pop Posts, I think.

Today's Pop Post is about the guy behind this:

Takashi Murakami.

The guy is pretty much everything Pop Culture should be. He's brought 'low' culture into high culture and simultaneously brought 'high' culture into low, mass culture. I think the video is pretty solid evidence of the mixing of mass and high cultures. Although, Louis Vuitton really walks a fine line between mass and high culture, maybe that's why the company decided to collaborate with Murakami?

Anyway, his most recent controversy has been putting up some crazy whimsical, totally out of place sculptures in the Palace of Versailles.

I don't know that you can make a clearer commentary on art and culture than that.

Even Murakami himself is part of the Pop Culture movement. I mean, let's be honest, he's really just taking the next logical step of Warhol and/or Lichtenstein. But that's what Pop Art is; keeping that nostalgia for the past while doing something new, right?

Anyway, as promised, no reflection. Unless you want to reflect on the roles of Pop Art and High Art in society, and whether there is really a point in distinguishing the two.

But why think? Just let the prettiness wash over you without thought.

"Ghosts of the OR"--My Greek Epic

Before coming here I had an internship in the operating room of a hospital near my house. During one particularly uneventful open-heart surgery (which despite what Grey’s Anatomy leads you to believe, is all of them), the surgeon asked me how old I was. He already knew I was going to medical school and he said he asked because he wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of those people who had wasted time between college and medical school trying to “find themselves”. I gave a short laugh and confidently replied “Of course not!”

Given his tone there was no way I was about to say, “I’m off to Japan in a few weeks for a year of teaching English to kids who will never use it!!” And it’s a good thing the only visible part of a person’s face in the OR is their eyes, because behind my mask and head-cover was definitely a face of shame.

Yet I look back on this and the only feelings of shame I have now come from the fact that I was so ashamed then. It’s not like I felt this anger on the spot and hid it just to please him. I was genuinely ashamed that I decided to not go straight to medical school, yet clearly, the shame wasn’t great enough to make me believe that it was the wrong decision.

I’ll never think it was the wrong decision. I’m not so shortsighted as everyone around me seemed to be.

The summer before leaving was difficult, to put it into polite blogging terms. Which was inevitable when I’d been living my life for everyone but myself, then suddenly decided that I’ve had enough.

I’m pretty sure everyone within 3 degrees of separation from my parents knew I was going to medical school, so I do feel a little bad when I picture their answer to people who ask them “So, how is he handling medical school?” Their story of humility is seriously biblical and gives me slight tingles of pleasure.

Not that I came here to spite my parents. My parents simply were not a part of the equation when I was deciding. They claimed I was being unbelievably selfish and stupid, which had the obvious implication that the only way for them to realize their ‘investment’ and therefore the only unselfish thing to do was for me to go straight to medical school.

And you know what? It was selfish. And I don’t apologize for it. However, what I am terrified of is it being a stupid decision. Not stupid for any of my parents’ uniformed reasons; in the grand scheme of things a year isn’t going to make a damn of a difference. However, that doesn’t mean it’s OK for this to be a wasted year. I need to get something worthwhile and profound out of it. It must mean something. And I am terrified of it meaning nothing. I fully understand that this ‘meaning’ will change many times as I get older and look back with more detached maturity, but I will consider it a failure if I get on that plane back to the US and cannot think of one profound lesson I’ve learned or relationship I’ve had.

And I’m not about to fail. If for no other reason than I can look all the doubters in the eye when I get back home and tell them in the most intimidating, fear-instilling way, with eyes narrowed, “You were wrong.”. Preferably with some dramatic thunder or some other suitably dramatic device. Maybe a chorus from an ancient Greek play?

Something like that.