Culture shock. The U.S. feels abundant and extravagant and people say the stupidest things in this country. I feel uncomfortable in this country and being around these people. Actually it’s no different than how I’ve always felt here.
It happened all so fast that I didn’t have time to prepare myself mentally. On the Thursday I left, it felt like any ordinary Thursday in Osaka. Driving to the airport with Mi-chan felt like we could have been going for lunch.
Suddenly I’m here. Suddenly I’m back in New Jersey. And despite all the stress and pressure of being in Japan, I was prepared to let Japan become reality. Now I have to deal with this all over again. I feel like a gerbil that tried to escape and got caught and ended up back in the cage. I look out of the cage having tasted freedom.
Thoughts of Shiho are ever-present. I have her so deep inside me, under my skin. I still have all the letter-tapes we used to send to each other after she left for Japan and I’m so glad that I still have them. I’ve been listening to them, but something feels cheap. We missed a lot of years and I haven’t listened to these tapes for such a long time. Is something really different now that is making me listen to them? Am I truly listening to them with my heart, or am I listening to them because we ended up kissing in Osaka?
It’s been heating up here with the ‘rents. They’ve been stepping up their assault on forming my future in their image. They got Tom and Bob to be what they want, now they’re training all their sights on me, now that I’m back in range. If it were the other way around and I had a gun, I’d have no problem pulling the trigger. But that’s not my way, just the feeling is.
They’re getting old. Last night, mother, for lack of a better word, started getting all sugary and cutesy and sweet talking about how father, for lack of a better word, was going to be turning 60 soon. Suspicion piqued, I acknowledged that doing something special would be nice. Then she goes into the whole spiel all over again and this time I know that something’s up. I kept my guard up and took the bait to see what would happen. “Getting into law school would be the greatest gift!” No surprise.
I quietly seethed. All they have is their own agenda and they listen to nothing else. Even when I tried explaining in the simplest English possible that if I went back to school, I would go to grad school for Asian american studies, they didn’t hear a word of it. Why bother? What’s the point? They certainly aren’t going to change me, and if they aren’t going to listen to me, then they might as well not even exist. This path of hatred and anger is careening towards absolute indifference.
But the forest that the path goes through is a thick jungle with an insidious psychological undergrowth. I have to hack my way through it and it’s not an easy task. Years of conditioning and being immersed in their world of twisted values where money is king. Emotionally starved and where direct contact and communication is worse than a disease.
The emotional cost is huge. I don’t know why. Just words, but the frustration they invoke is incredible and draining. An idiot statement as simple as “Go to law school and you can stay here and have peace of mind.” I don’t know where to begin with that one. “Stay here”? “Peace of mind”? What are you talking about? Are you an idiot? Explain “peace of mind”. What do you mean “can stay here”? What do you mean “stay here”? And how is “peace of mind” connected to “staying here”?
How do they know what “peace of mind” is to me? How can they have the gall to think that they know what peace of mind is to me? It’s the assumption of knowing that really offends me. They have extended the realm over which they are qualified to know into my world. They don’t know anything about me, and yet they think they are qualified to know me and they think they know me, and I find that more than a little bit offensive.
I have been slow in getting in touch with friends. At Oberlin, I only really wanted to hunt down Frances, Myung, and Madoka. Frances and I have already been in lengthy discussions about our lives and experiences since. Madoka called a few nights ago and she just has a heart that just puts me at ease. Myung has been difficult to nail down. Amina. She hasn’t contacted me for quite a while.
Monday, October 26, 1992
Tuesday, October 20, 1992
Osaka, Japan
So I leave in two days. Words fail me. Shiho and me. . .
It happened so fast and so close to the last minute that it’s hard to say we’ve gotten back together. How can I imagine I deserve her after what we’ve been through, after what I’ve done in our past. I can’t imagine the paths we’ve taken being any different and still be as perfect to have led us where they have.
I think about Shiho and me in our New Jersey years. The first time that I ever saw Shiho was in a high school yearbook when we were in eighth grade and I wasn’t even in Dwight Englewood yet. When I entered Dwight for ninth grade, we eventually met and by Sophomore year we were fast friends. I convinced her to join Jazz/Rock on keyboards and we spent a lot of time together. In Junior year, Mark Holdaway entered the mix and became the advisor for Jazz/Rock and the three of us were really good friends. Then it was all over the next Summer. Two weeks before Shiho left for Japan, we started going out. I don’t remember how it happened. Three years - not really a long time. But it was high school.
I don’t think we’d be together now if we hadn’t gone out for those two weeks. If we had gone out earlier than we had, our relationship may have taken the usual course of relationships and ended in a typical break-up foreclosing any desire to get back together. If we hadn’t gone out at all back then, we probably would have faded from each other’s lives and never gone out. But the exact way it was, it was just enough to guarantee the feelings were always there between us, but prevented anything disastrous to permanently damage a future relationship.
So long ago; it feels like someone said, “Here, this woman is the one, but you’re not ready for her yet, there are still many people and experiences to go through, many things you have to learn before you can know how to love her and know what it means to be loved by her.” Then I took one last look at her before she left so that I wouldn’t forget. I let the memories go to sleep when I went to college; new beginnings. Now something feels so obvious - of course it was her, how could it have been anyone else?
I’m not so perplexed about going back to the States. Shiho is overshadowing everything, including the ‘rents. I am so thankful to her for so much, it puts me in the palm of her hand. The little bit that makes sense is that if she never really went away in my life, it can follow that I didn’t from hers. We didn’t have a proper break-up before. There wasn’t a definitive moment that signaled a break-up, there was no closure, and the cause had nothing to do with anything between us, it was only about me.
The fight with the ‘rents happened on the Sunday that I was supposed to be in Tokyo. I wrote a letter to Shiho on Tuesday and on Thursday she called. She made a comment about coming down to visit me on the weekend, testing the waters - if I didn’t react positively to that, she wouldn’t have come. But I said it would be nice and she arranged for it.
She came down on Sunday without telling her parents. What are we? Still in high school? The total time we had together was less than six hours. We talked somberly but intimately, and then the talk turned to silence because we were sad. The silence emphasized the sadness, there was nothing to say. The sadness led to a hug and the hug didn’t stop. The hug led to a kiss and that’s how it happened.
What were we thinking? Of course, we were going to get back together. Why else would she come all the way down from Tokyo for less than six hours? It makes sense now, but it was no where in my mind that we would get back together and I don’t think it was in her mind, either. It just happened in a very strong moment. I’m glad we did, but I’m still not sure exactly what my feelings towards her are. It’s not a question of loving her, I do, but . . . I don’t know. I don’t think we’re anywhere near the end of this story.
We had been sitting in silence for a few minutes. The movement toward the hug was natural and mutual and we were hugging for a long time. We started pulling away from each other and all it took was a split-second of our faces being so close together, and in another split second we were suddenly kissing.
It happened so fast and so close to the last minute that it’s hard to say we’ve gotten back together. How can I imagine I deserve her after what we’ve been through, after what I’ve done in our past. I can’t imagine the paths we’ve taken being any different and still be as perfect to have led us where they have.
I think about Shiho and me in our New Jersey years. The first time that I ever saw Shiho was in a high school yearbook when we were in eighth grade and I wasn’t even in Dwight Englewood yet. When I entered Dwight for ninth grade, we eventually met and by Sophomore year we were fast friends. I convinced her to join Jazz/Rock on keyboards and we spent a lot of time together. In Junior year, Mark Holdaway entered the mix and became the advisor for Jazz/Rock and the three of us were really good friends. Then it was all over the next Summer. Two weeks before Shiho left for Japan, we started going out. I don’t remember how it happened. Three years - not really a long time. But it was high school.
I don’t think we’d be together now if we hadn’t gone out for those two weeks. If we had gone out earlier than we had, our relationship may have taken the usual course of relationships and ended in a typical break-up foreclosing any desire to get back together. If we hadn’t gone out at all back then, we probably would have faded from each other’s lives and never gone out. But the exact way it was, it was just enough to guarantee the feelings were always there between us, but prevented anything disastrous to permanently damage a future relationship.
So long ago; it feels like someone said, “Here, this woman is the one, but you’re not ready for her yet, there are still many people and experiences to go through, many things you have to learn before you can know how to love her and know what it means to be loved by her.” Then I took one last look at her before she left so that I wouldn’t forget. I let the memories go to sleep when I went to college; new beginnings. Now something feels so obvious - of course it was her, how could it have been anyone else?
I’m not so perplexed about going back to the States. Shiho is overshadowing everything, including the ‘rents. I am so thankful to her for so much, it puts me in the palm of her hand. The little bit that makes sense is that if she never really went away in my life, it can follow that I didn’t from hers. We didn’t have a proper break-up before. There wasn’t a definitive moment that signaled a break-up, there was no closure, and the cause had nothing to do with anything between us, it was only about me.
The fight with the ‘rents happened on the Sunday that I was supposed to be in Tokyo. I wrote a letter to Shiho on Tuesday and on Thursday she called. She made a comment about coming down to visit me on the weekend, testing the waters - if I didn’t react positively to that, she wouldn’t have come. But I said it would be nice and she arranged for it.
She came down on Sunday without telling her parents. What are we? Still in high school? The total time we had together was less than six hours. We talked somberly but intimately, and then the talk turned to silence because we were sad. The silence emphasized the sadness, there was nothing to say. The sadness led to a hug and the hug didn’t stop. The hug led to a kiss and that’s how it happened.
What were we thinking? Of course, we were going to get back together. Why else would she come all the way down from Tokyo for less than six hours? It makes sense now, but it was no where in my mind that we would get back together and I don’t think it was in her mind, either. It just happened in a very strong moment. I’m glad we did, but I’m still not sure exactly what my feelings towards her are. It’s not a question of loving her, I do, but . . . I don’t know. I don’t think we’re anywhere near the end of this story.
We had been sitting in silence for a few minutes. The movement toward the hug was natural and mutual and we were hugging for a long time. We started pulling away from each other and all it took was a split-second of our faces being so close together, and in another split second we were suddenly kissing.
Monday, October 12, 1992
Osaka, Japan
It was a waste to buy a small travel alarm clock to make sure that I got up on Saturday morning to catch the Shinkansen to Tokyo. I forgot to turn the damn thing on. However, my internal alarm clock has always been reliable in waking me up when I need to wake up, and it didn’t let me down this time. Although I wish it had.
I had no problems getting to Shin-Osaka on time and I caught my train. Only three hours to Tokyo by Shinkansen. Talk about urban sprawl, Tokyo is enormous. It was city as far as the eye can see. The train got to Tokyo Station and Shiho was going to meet me on the platform. On Shinkansen platforms, it’s possible to know exactly where a particular car is going to stop, so not only was Shiho going to meet me on the platform, she was supposed to meet me right at the train door, right?
I was eager to see Shiho again, even though we had talked after I returned from Taiwan and cleared the air between us. I felt like I needed to be open and honest with Shiho and so I wanted to discuss “us”. Right before I brought it up, she dropped the bombshell that she had broken up with her boyfriend. So much for that safety. I brought it up anyway and we talked about it and had similar thoughts, but we brushed it all aside and decided that anything between us would be impossible because the timing was all wrong and her parents could never accept me. I was proud of myself, though, no games played with Shiho, everything out in the open.
So I got a little anxious when I got off the Shinkansen and couldn’t find her. There were only two doors for each car and I could see that she wasn’t by the other door, either. Since we thought it was virtually impossible to miss each other, we hadn’t decided on an alternative meeting place. It would have been virtually impossible to miss each other if she was there, why wasn’t she there?
I figured we’d find each other eventually. I should have stayed on the platform but I wasn’t thinking, and went down into the station keeping a sharp eye out for her. Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, I was starting to get concerned. I found the Central Gate and decided to stay there, hoping she would remember my thing about Central Gates from our meetings at Shin-Osaka. I don’t remember exactly how long it took for me to realize something went terribly wrong, but time passed and I couldn’t find her. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before I started wandering. My eyes were wide open and I walked slowly through all the main thoroughfares of Tokyo Station. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before doubt started growing that I wouldn’t find Shiho at all.
I knew she was there, I had no doubt that Shiho was in Tokyo Station. It would have been unrealistically out of character for her to not have shown under any circumstances. No matter what could have happened on her way there, she would eventually have gotten there. I was at a total loss to understand why I couldn’t find her. For hours I wandered and waited. I listened to the intercom for my name because if she couldn’t find me, I was sure she would have me paged. I sang softly to myself. I tried calling her house and I talked to Naomi, her sister. She said that Shiho had gone to meet me.
The hours passed and the value of staying in Tokyo sharply declined. At one point, I felt I had given up hope in being found and I was sitting in the sun just outside one of the entrances to the station. I could still hear the intercom from where I was. I sat disheartened, incredulous, frustrated, when a pigeon feather, pretty much arbitrarily, floated down from the rafters and landed a few feet away from me. I stared at it for a long time and thought about the cover of Richard Bach’s book, Illusions. When no one was looking, I reached over and picked it up.
Late in the afternoon, I made the decision to cash in my bus ticket and take a Shinkansen back to Osaka. That was supposed to be the day for Shiho and me. Without it, Sunday wasn’t much and I had no idea where to go in Tokyo until I could get a hold of Shiho. Dejected, I had to go back to Osaka.
Shiho called me that night after I had returned to Osaka. She had been on the train platform, she was waiting right at the door and she could see both doors from where she stood. I still had my ticket and we confirmed which car I was on and there was no mistake. I hadn’t been on a different car and she hadn’t been waiting by a different car. We were both there at the same time, within one Shinkansen car’s distance away from each other and we didn’t see each other. She too searched for me and wandered Tokyo Station looking for me. She did try paging me. She searched for me until it was time for her to go to Shinjuku station to meet Mark Holdaway. So she left for a while to meet him, and then she came back to Tokyo Station again to look for me.
IS IT AT ALL POSSIBLE that we could have totally missed each other the entire day? Take Grand Central Station in New York. Take two close friends and place them in two different places in Grand Central Station and tell them to find each other. They have all day to find each other. I don’t think it’s possible for them to not be able to find each other. Eventually they would find each other. How could they not? Shiho and I were not only in the same station, but we were both milling around the Shinkansen gates, we knew where to be. All we had to do was see each other, the attraction was certainly there.
After I got off the phone with Shiho, I watched TV and an episode of “Moonlighting” came on. I was never a big fan of “Moonlighting”, but this episode was a “Christmas Carol”-esque episode, complete with guardian angel appearing at a main character’s worst moment, getting smashed in a bar. The angel grants her one wish that would set what had led her to the bar right, but then leads her to the tragic result of having that wish granted. She pleads with the angel to set things back to the way they were at the bar and the character wakes up in the bar, convinced it had been real and not a dream. She then re-approaches the problems that had brought her to the bar and works at them and makes responsible, non-easy-way-out decisions and the ending is a happy one. Guardian angel. What would have happened if I had met Shiho in Tokyo? What was I protected from?
On Sunday the ‘rents called and we got into a huge fight. That was it. All tensions peaked, the world came crashing down, and I decided I had to return to the States and get a job and get away from them at any cost. I refuse to live my life under their monetary rule. Sunday. If I were in Tokyo, I would never have received that call.
But even if I had received that call and if we had gotten into the same fight, I wouldn’t be able to go back to the States if I had paid for the Japanese course at the YMCA. Paying for the course would have been a monetary commitment and the fight would just have been another fight. But I hadn’t paid for the course, even though the first class was held on the Friday before I left.
I was supposed to pay on Thursday, the day of orientation, so I had stopped off at the bank on my way to Umeda, but the foreign exchange didn’t open until 10:00. I had to get to orientation so I couldn’t wait for the foreign exchange to open. But nothing was mentioned about tuition, so I breathed a sigh of relief and I went to the bank in the afternoon. There I found out that I could not exchange more than $1000 per day, not enough to cover tuition. Classes on Friday started at 10:00, so I had the same problem getting the money before class on Friday. So I was able to avoid paying on Friday as well. The plan was to pay tuition on Monday, but there was a fight on Sunday.
Then the final nail in the coffin. I still had to break it to Sakura that I was going back to the States. For most of this time, Sakura had feared my going back to the States and leaving her. She found comfort in me and she valued it. She didn’t want to go solo again and that’s why she stuck her neck out for me so often. But when I told her, she was unfazed. Basically, “Sad to see you go, good luck in all your future endeavors.” I have a feeling that in the week and a half that I hadn’t talked to her, I was replaced on guitar and I had just spared her telling me that I was out.
It’s settled then, I leave Japan on October 22nd. I leave Japan on October 22nd. It ends just like that. What of these four months will last? I felt so weak and disadvantaged here. I got stronger throughout college, I don’t doubt that. My problems made me stronger. But I still have a very weak side that was brought out here. Now I live with the realization that I feel very weak and very strong at the same time most of the time. The extremity motif beginning to define my reality.
I had no problems getting to Shin-Osaka on time and I caught my train. Only three hours to Tokyo by Shinkansen. Talk about urban sprawl, Tokyo is enormous. It was city as far as the eye can see. The train got to Tokyo Station and Shiho was going to meet me on the platform. On Shinkansen platforms, it’s possible to know exactly where a particular car is going to stop, so not only was Shiho going to meet me on the platform, she was supposed to meet me right at the train door, right?
I was eager to see Shiho again, even though we had talked after I returned from Taiwan and cleared the air between us. I felt like I needed to be open and honest with Shiho and so I wanted to discuss “us”. Right before I brought it up, she dropped the bombshell that she had broken up with her boyfriend. So much for that safety. I brought it up anyway and we talked about it and had similar thoughts, but we brushed it all aside and decided that anything between us would be impossible because the timing was all wrong and her parents could never accept me. I was proud of myself, though, no games played with Shiho, everything out in the open.
So I got a little anxious when I got off the Shinkansen and couldn’t find her. There were only two doors for each car and I could see that she wasn’t by the other door, either. Since we thought it was virtually impossible to miss each other, we hadn’t decided on an alternative meeting place. It would have been virtually impossible to miss each other if she was there, why wasn’t she there?
I figured we’d find each other eventually. I should have stayed on the platform but I wasn’t thinking, and went down into the station keeping a sharp eye out for her. Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, I was starting to get concerned. I found the Central Gate and decided to stay there, hoping she would remember my thing about Central Gates from our meetings at Shin-Osaka. I don’t remember exactly how long it took for me to realize something went terribly wrong, but time passed and I couldn’t find her. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before I started wandering. My eyes were wide open and I walked slowly through all the main thoroughfares of Tokyo Station. I don’t remember exactly how long it was before doubt started growing that I wouldn’t find Shiho at all.
I knew she was there, I had no doubt that Shiho was in Tokyo Station. It would have been unrealistically out of character for her to not have shown under any circumstances. No matter what could have happened on her way there, she would eventually have gotten there. I was at a total loss to understand why I couldn’t find her. For hours I wandered and waited. I listened to the intercom for my name because if she couldn’t find me, I was sure she would have me paged. I sang softly to myself. I tried calling her house and I talked to Naomi, her sister. She said that Shiho had gone to meet me.
The hours passed and the value of staying in Tokyo sharply declined. At one point, I felt I had given up hope in being found and I was sitting in the sun just outside one of the entrances to the station. I could still hear the intercom from where I was. I sat disheartened, incredulous, frustrated, when a pigeon feather, pretty much arbitrarily, floated down from the rafters and landed a few feet away from me. I stared at it for a long time and thought about the cover of Richard Bach’s book, Illusions. When no one was looking, I reached over and picked it up.
Late in the afternoon, I made the decision to cash in my bus ticket and take a Shinkansen back to Osaka. That was supposed to be the day for Shiho and me. Without it, Sunday wasn’t much and I had no idea where to go in Tokyo until I could get a hold of Shiho. Dejected, I had to go back to Osaka.
Shiho called me that night after I had returned to Osaka. She had been on the train platform, she was waiting right at the door and she could see both doors from where she stood. I still had my ticket and we confirmed which car I was on and there was no mistake. I hadn’t been on a different car and she hadn’t been waiting by a different car. We were both there at the same time, within one Shinkansen car’s distance away from each other and we didn’t see each other. She too searched for me and wandered Tokyo Station looking for me. She did try paging me. She searched for me until it was time for her to go to Shinjuku station to meet Mark Holdaway. So she left for a while to meet him, and then she came back to Tokyo Station again to look for me.
IS IT AT ALL POSSIBLE that we could have totally missed each other the entire day? Take Grand Central Station in New York. Take two close friends and place them in two different places in Grand Central Station and tell them to find each other. They have all day to find each other. I don’t think it’s possible for them to not be able to find each other. Eventually they would find each other. How could they not? Shiho and I were not only in the same station, but we were both milling around the Shinkansen gates, we knew where to be. All we had to do was see each other, the attraction was certainly there.
After I got off the phone with Shiho, I watched TV and an episode of “Moonlighting” came on. I was never a big fan of “Moonlighting”, but this episode was a “Christmas Carol”-esque episode, complete with guardian angel appearing at a main character’s worst moment, getting smashed in a bar. The angel grants her one wish that would set what had led her to the bar right, but then leads her to the tragic result of having that wish granted. She pleads with the angel to set things back to the way they were at the bar and the character wakes up in the bar, convinced it had been real and not a dream. She then re-approaches the problems that had brought her to the bar and works at them and makes responsible, non-easy-way-out decisions and the ending is a happy one. Guardian angel. What would have happened if I had met Shiho in Tokyo? What was I protected from?
On Sunday the ‘rents called and we got into a huge fight. That was it. All tensions peaked, the world came crashing down, and I decided I had to return to the States and get a job and get away from them at any cost. I refuse to live my life under their monetary rule. Sunday. If I were in Tokyo, I would never have received that call.
But even if I had received that call and if we had gotten into the same fight, I wouldn’t be able to go back to the States if I had paid for the Japanese course at the YMCA. Paying for the course would have been a monetary commitment and the fight would just have been another fight. But I hadn’t paid for the course, even though the first class was held on the Friday before I left.
I was supposed to pay on Thursday, the day of orientation, so I had stopped off at the bank on my way to Umeda, but the foreign exchange didn’t open until 10:00. I had to get to orientation so I couldn’t wait for the foreign exchange to open. But nothing was mentioned about tuition, so I breathed a sigh of relief and I went to the bank in the afternoon. There I found out that I could not exchange more than $1000 per day, not enough to cover tuition. Classes on Friday started at 10:00, so I had the same problem getting the money before class on Friday. So I was able to avoid paying on Friday as well. The plan was to pay tuition on Monday, but there was a fight on Sunday.
Then the final nail in the coffin. I still had to break it to Sakura that I was going back to the States. For most of this time, Sakura had feared my going back to the States and leaving her. She found comfort in me and she valued it. She didn’t want to go solo again and that’s why she stuck her neck out for me so often. But when I told her, she was unfazed. Basically, “Sad to see you go, good luck in all your future endeavors.” I have a feeling that in the week and a half that I hadn’t talked to her, I was replaced on guitar and I had just spared her telling me that I was out.
It’s settled then, I leave Japan on October 22nd. I leave Japan on October 22nd. It ends just like that. What of these four months will last? I felt so weak and disadvantaged here. I got stronger throughout college, I don’t doubt that. My problems made me stronger. But I still have a very weak side that was brought out here. Now I live with the realization that I feel very weak and very strong at the same time most of the time. The extremity motif beginning to define my reality.
Thursday, October 08, 1992
Osaka, Japan
I got back from Taiwan and found one letter in my mailbox from Madoka. What’s up with everyone else? I shouldn’t wonder, I know what’s up with everyone else. Coming back to Japan from Taiwan makes Japan feel like home. Japan’s landscape is so familiar compared to Taiwan. Taiwan was, at best, surreal. I floated in, floated around, and floated right back out. I had no desire to stay, no fond memories, too many ghosts.
I faltered and struggled to communicate in Japanese, since the older generation of Taiwanese speak Japanese. I spent more time with Uncle Taka than ever before. We drove all the way to Tai Zhong just to indulge in the cuisine they are famous for.
Uncle Bun’s wife is in the final stage of cancer. Audrey’s mother, a finer woman this family has not seen. I visited her in the hospital. At first, I don’t think she recognized me. She was undergoing radiation treatment and she was in such pain, all I could do was let her squeeze my hand. She told me not to tell Audrey, and I knew what she meant. She knew Audrey and I are close. “Don’t tell Audrey”. No, I won’t tell her, but I can let her know. I’ll make sure Audrey comes back at the end of the semester.
What is it about her? She names her daughter after Audrey Hepburn, and then I meet Amina, the love of my life, who rings of Audrey Hepburn. Amina is a big Audrey Hepburn fan. When me and my brothers visited Taiwan in 1980, we were total monsters, yet she not only took care of us, but she eventually named one of her sons after my American name. Why? After the show we put on in 1980, I would think she would try to disassociate from my name as much as possible. We were that bad. Bottom line, the woman is a saint. But there must be more.
I dreamed of Amina for the first time in a while in Taiwan. It was a sunny summer day and it looked like we were pool-side outside of some fancy hotel. She had joined me there at a table with one of those big umbrellas. She was silent and in thought. I guess it was just my fantasy, but she knew that I had decided to take up the issue of Shiho and me with the possibility of starting a relationship with Shiho. So Amina was there, silent, to tell me that she really did love me and it only struck her when it became very possible that she would lose me for good. Oh yea, fantasy.
In my sleep, my eyes opened a little. At two o’clock in the morning, someone had turned on the hall light so that if my eyes opened a little, they would open a lot. The dream and Amina faded away as if an angel had turned my face towards the light and pried my eyes open a crack to warn me, “no, don’t”.
I’m having major doubts about my role in the music thing here. Sakura has hooked up with those three semi-pros who are certainly older than us. I get the sense that they’re wondering what I’m even doing there. They are very professional, to them it’s a job, not an expression. They do as they’re told, their input is professional, not personal creativity. It’s kind of cold and not really my bag. They’re really good, but not the kind of good I can get into.
The pressure of living in Japan is what is changing me the most, though. I’m exercising a lot of self-control and I’m being super careful not to let my predisposed problems surface. There is no room for that old diagnosis “adjustment disorder”. What a load of crap anyway. “Adjustment disorder”? I think it was just a descriptive that psychiatrist came up with to match his observations. He sat there listening, thinking, “hmmm, sounds like he’s having trouble adjusting - I’ll call it an ‘adjustment disorder’!” Screw that.
In any case, I’m here for another three months. The plan is to enroll in the Japanese course at the YMCA tomorrow, and then I’m going up to Tokyo this weekend to visit Shiho and meet up with Mark Holdaway. It’s unbelievable that I’m going to see them both at the same time. What is up with that? It still blows my mind. I’m taking the Shinkansen up on Saturday morning, and on Sunday night I’m hopping onto an all-night bus back to Osaka and on Monday, classes start. That’s the plan.
I faltered and struggled to communicate in Japanese, since the older generation of Taiwanese speak Japanese. I spent more time with Uncle Taka than ever before. We drove all the way to Tai Zhong just to indulge in the cuisine they are famous for.
Uncle Bun’s wife is in the final stage of cancer. Audrey’s mother, a finer woman this family has not seen. I visited her in the hospital. At first, I don’t think she recognized me. She was undergoing radiation treatment and she was in such pain, all I could do was let her squeeze my hand. She told me not to tell Audrey, and I knew what she meant. She knew Audrey and I are close. “Don’t tell Audrey”. No, I won’t tell her, but I can let her know. I’ll make sure Audrey comes back at the end of the semester.
What is it about her? She names her daughter after Audrey Hepburn, and then I meet Amina, the love of my life, who rings of Audrey Hepburn. Amina is a big Audrey Hepburn fan. When me and my brothers visited Taiwan in 1980, we were total monsters, yet she not only took care of us, but she eventually named one of her sons after my American name. Why? After the show we put on in 1980, I would think she would try to disassociate from my name as much as possible. We were that bad. Bottom line, the woman is a saint. But there must be more.
I dreamed of Amina for the first time in a while in Taiwan. It was a sunny summer day and it looked like we were pool-side outside of some fancy hotel. She had joined me there at a table with one of those big umbrellas. She was silent and in thought. I guess it was just my fantasy, but she knew that I had decided to take up the issue of Shiho and me with the possibility of starting a relationship with Shiho. So Amina was there, silent, to tell me that she really did love me and it only struck her when it became very possible that she would lose me for good. Oh yea, fantasy.
In my sleep, my eyes opened a little. At two o’clock in the morning, someone had turned on the hall light so that if my eyes opened a little, they would open a lot. The dream and Amina faded away as if an angel had turned my face towards the light and pried my eyes open a crack to warn me, “no, don’t”.
I’m having major doubts about my role in the music thing here. Sakura has hooked up with those three semi-pros who are certainly older than us. I get the sense that they’re wondering what I’m even doing there. They are very professional, to them it’s a job, not an expression. They do as they’re told, their input is professional, not personal creativity. It’s kind of cold and not really my bag. They’re really good, but not the kind of good I can get into.
The pressure of living in Japan is what is changing me the most, though. I’m exercising a lot of self-control and I’m being super careful not to let my predisposed problems surface. There is no room for that old diagnosis “adjustment disorder”. What a load of crap anyway. “Adjustment disorder”? I think it was just a descriptive that psychiatrist came up with to match his observations. He sat there listening, thinking, “hmmm, sounds like he’s having trouble adjusting - I’ll call it an ‘adjustment disorder’!” Screw that.
In any case, I’m here for another three months. The plan is to enroll in the Japanese course at the YMCA tomorrow, and then I’m going up to Tokyo this weekend to visit Shiho and meet up with Mark Holdaway. It’s unbelievable that I’m going to see them both at the same time. What is up with that? It still blows my mind. I’m taking the Shinkansen up on Saturday morning, and on Sunday night I’m hopping onto an all-night bus back to Osaka and on Monday, classes start. That’s the plan.
Thursday, October 01, 1992
Osaka, Japan
Approaching another autumn. My thoughts stretch back to a year ago, back to Oberlin. I remember the warmth of that semester when I think about Lisa's birthday, almost exactly a year ago, when Christine and I got her a puppy. I remember how we picked her up at a local farm and how small and cute she was. She got sick in the car and she was so weak and disoriented. After we got back to Oberlin, I took care of the puppy outside of Third World House, but everyone passing by helped out. The weather was so warm. Frances was living in the dorm, I had met Luyen and we were having fun in our acquaintance, Hiromi and I had our intimate coffee. My room was so comfortable. It was my best academic semester at Oberlin as well.
Then there was the cold of November. I remember kicking out my window when Luyen was messing things up between Hiromi and me. I remember looking out that broken window into the early evening sky, melancholy and darkening. Lights of windows glowing sad at the shortened days. The air cold and still, the sounds sparking memories from far away. Hiromi and Luyen are the coldest memories, drinking too much, and lying out in the snow covered golf course near the cemetery late at night hoping to freeze, already freezing.
I can take any single memory from that semester and be really disgusted at it in one moment, and in another be really nostalgic about it. The occurrences of the events are fact, but they have such extreme feelings attached to them that how I remember them are dependent upon how I feel now. So what of my memories is real?, surely not my feelings about them. And what of my feelings about my now?
I’m leaving for Taiwan in two days, and then classes start soon after I get back. The weekend after I get back I’m going to Tokyo to visit Shiho and Mark Holdaway. It all starts to come together. I won’t actively do anything about Shiho. She still is seeing someone and that’s good enough of a reason to lay off and watch what happens. I’ll wait and see what vibes I get when I visit her. I can’t wait to see her again.
Then there was the cold of November. I remember kicking out my window when Luyen was messing things up between Hiromi and me. I remember looking out that broken window into the early evening sky, melancholy and darkening. Lights of windows glowing sad at the shortened days. The air cold and still, the sounds sparking memories from far away. Hiromi and Luyen are the coldest memories, drinking too much, and lying out in the snow covered golf course near the cemetery late at night hoping to freeze, already freezing.
I can take any single memory from that semester and be really disgusted at it in one moment, and in another be really nostalgic about it. The occurrences of the events are fact, but they have such extreme feelings attached to them that how I remember them are dependent upon how I feel now. So what of my memories is real?, surely not my feelings about them. And what of my feelings about my now?
I’m leaving for Taiwan in two days, and then classes start soon after I get back. The weekend after I get back I’m going to Tokyo to visit Shiho and Mark Holdaway. It all starts to come together. I won’t actively do anything about Shiho. She still is seeing someone and that’s good enough of a reason to lay off and watch what happens. I’ll wait and see what vibes I get when I visit her. I can’t wait to see her again.
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