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.

Pop Culture Tuesdays XVII

After yesterday's post I really should be just posting some random SMAP video or pictures of some visual kei vocalist to counter balance the heaviness with pure Pop Prettiness.

But I'm not going to do that.

Instead, I'm going to be entirely blasphemous in the face of everything Pop stands for, and present elements from Pop Culture which also demand deep reflection.

I'm really sorry, but like the child who attempts to gouge out his parents' eyes trying to escape from a flu shot, you will eventually understand it was no big deal, and actually was for your own good. I'm sure of it.

Anyway, today I'm posting a scene from one of my favorite movies, which just happens to be an anime. Besides, doing a Japanese Pop Culture series and not mentioning this movie is just as bad as not mentioning AKB48.

The first time I watched this scene from Spirited Away I was genuinely dumbfounded. The serene, beautiful melancholy caught me totally offguard. It genuinely gave me chills. The deep, satisfying, someone-kissing-you-on-the-bend-of-your-neck type of chills.

So, here's the scene. I could only find it in Italian...but seriously there's like two lines throughout the whole scene and they're completely irrelevant.

I mean, really. How do you describe this as anything but truly haunting? I could honestly have a day-long conversation just about this scene...but I won't do that to you.

Prettiness (the cheap, shallow kind) next week, I promise.

Cherry Blossoms And All That Shit

I’m breaking a serious rule here, but this post is not going to be directly Japan related.

I suppose in a roundabout way it kind of is, but…ok whatever, onwards!

For whatever reason lately I’ve been totally preoccupied with death, specifically my own.

Now, hold it! I mean in a purely detached, non-emotional, non-suicidal purely academic way!

It started innocently enough; I had my first day at work after vacation and it dawned on me just how disposable I am. The feeling of “Ah, just like I never left” was not comforting at all, but extremely disturbing. I was gone and not a damn thing had changed, and my absence was basically unnoticed and had pretty much zero affect on anything.

Now, I’m not a total idiot, despite what this blog may lead you to believe. I was, and am, fully aware of my position as Disposable Foreign Novelty as part of the Japanese Government’s misguided attempt at grassroots internationalization of its citizens. I fully understand the goals of this program and part of those goals include keeping a revolving door of foreigners going. The program doesn’t want every foreigner to put down stakes in Japan. It’s meant to be temporary; “Come in, internationalize our young’ins, then get the fuck out. But please, tell everyone how much you love Japan (aka spread Japanese Soft Power).”

If you think this is all craziness, remember that while the Japanese government is surely as assbackwards as any, it's not about to piss away money on a mega project like the JET Program without expecting some sort of return. And I promise you, Japanese government bureaucrats don’t give half a shit about pictures of Aussie Ann and her family eating Vegemite, they only care about the returns for Japan (FYI: the program's goals for Japan don't have a goddamn thing to do with teaching English).

This is entirely fine, I have no problem with it. Until I start thinking about just how clearly inconsequential I am. I’m in the most destructive kind of relationship with Japan; the kind where I love Japan way more than it loves me.

I’ll leave here, and how long will it take before I’m completely and absolutely forgotten? How long before it was like I never even spent a year of my life here? 3 months? A year? Yet, I’ll never forget Japan and the time I spent here and the people I met. This relationship is completely destructive I think.

Then I realized, “Holy shit! I have the same relationship with the world!” And this is where things got a little morbid. I mean honestly, the world doesn’t stop spinning for anyone. There will be a time when I don’t exist, and while I clearly can’t fully comprehend such a thought, I understand enough to know that I don’t like it. And I especially don’t like the fact, that ultimately, it won’t matter. This is not the same as saying that my life has no consequence. I’m sure I’m going to have an impact on plenty of people’s lives and even if I’m loved by thousands, what happens when these thousands also disappear? Then I disappear.

My life in relation to the world is like my current relationship with Japan but on a slightly longer scale. Just like I spent time in Japan and it meant everything to me, yet Japan will forget me, the same thing is going to happen with the world. I’ll put in my time here (earth), it will obviously mean everything to me, but I will ultimately be forgotten. And while I’m sure this post is slightly disturbing to some, and is generally considered a taboo topic, it’s only because no one wants to acknowledge the one really, truly, Thing That Cannot Be Avoided.

I guess what I’m really looking for is immortality.

Thank God tomorrow is a Pop Culture Tuesday, full of prettiness and void of any reflection. Pop Culture, come, distract me from anything important!

Anyway, if you know where to find immortality, feel free to leave a comment. With a map.

(P.S. Don’t give me that trivial bullshit about “Who cares how inconsequential you are to, Japan let’s say, as long as you get something worthwhile out of the experience.” Yeah, no shit, but that doesn’t solve the real problem of disappearing like I was never here [in Japan, or earth in general])