Monkeys R Us!

                A few days ago I had the worst day at work. One of my Japanese coworkers is frustrating to work with. She treats me like a child and acts as if I’m a moron. Going over the lesson plan I’ve been using for two days already step by step asking if I know it, not bothering to listen to my answers. I was feeling homesick and after work I had nothing to do but come home. I felt alone and depressed and slightly trapped. I worked on a painting and wrote a little but I couldn’t shake the anxiety I was feeling. It was coming on stronger and stronger. I cried for no reason whatsoever except from the numerous emotions billowing up from inside. That night I talked to a friend online, someone I had met recently but who has had, at least for the moment, an enormous impact on my life.  He told me that we all have a core and mine is a little thinner then others. When the wind blows it makes it blow more than other people’s, which in turn makes people nervous and worry about me. I told him that there were a lot of things happening that made it a bit hard to function, being 5,000 miles away from home, a language barrier and a minute social life. I said that in America I had figured things out. I just needed to figure everything out again here. Change what needs to be changed.  At this point he replied that he too had lived in America and the situation was the same. He said that this situation is just allowing me to see my personality, the way I am, for myself. He said, we can make excuses to describe the way we act and feel in situations like this, but that’s not a solution to anything. I re-read over what I had written before and I could see that everything had sounded like an excuse, he was right. I said I wanted to change and work on myself. Be stronger, fix problems to which he said I I didn’t mean you need to change yourself, you just need to accept who you are. And the thing is he’s right. It made me think about a lot of things in my life.

 I have been working on accepting who I am. I didn’t stay in the closet here. I came out. I fully accept that. I accept that I will probably be on medication for the rest of life to help me stay balanced. I accept that yes my passions constantly change. I always dream. I accept that most of these dreams will not be realized but as long as I have them I can look forward and hope. I have accepted that I will be here at least a year and I need to make the most of it. It may be lonely, but right now, I think I’m OK with that. I believe that my life is a path and I’m going down it blindly but everything has an impact and that it’s full of cause and effect.

               Things are good here. I have been noticing things about myself that are different. I’m calmer, at least inside. I may complain about something verbally but it doesn’t build up and manifest in other ways. I have patience, so much patience. I feel happy, and I try to have a positive outlook on things. Incredibly positive compared to the past. I appreciate small things: a walk in an unfamiliar neighborhood, a stray cat walking up to me in my parking lot late at night, my students who when I come to get them for class run and hold my hand.  Some things still get me down, like the approach my school takes to teaching children (make it fun but don’t stress and focus on the important aspects of learning like a focus on particles or pronunciation), but I know that it’s in my power to change these things. I’ve talked to my boss and discussed things at staff meetings and indeed things have been changing. I had a student one day in class say “Gaikokujin wa ningen jya nai” (foreigners are not human) to my Japanese coworker not jokingly. It made me feel sad to hear a child say something so racist but I think if I do a good job and be a good teacher maybe that child will not say such things again. I can change many things in my life, but I don’t need to change myself, become a different person, in order to do so.  

Tonight was the first time I walked around the neighborhood where I am currently staying. At first I was feeling lonely, the sudden realization finally that I am indeed 5,000 miles away from home. People turn to look at me as I pass them. Entering a 7-11 every customer watches what I do. The only other foreigners I see are the people I will be working with.  I exit and walk back the way I came worrying that I will get lost and not be able to find my way back through the cramped winding streets.  I walk back to the house where I am staying just to make sure I can find it and I walk the opposite direction from where I had come from.  Following the road and looking at everything I start to shake the loneliness overcome with wonder. I walk past a darkened amusement park, a Ferris wheel looming over everything.  I remembered passing by it the day before, amazed that something like that existed here. It’s not that I wouldn’t expect anyplace in Japan to have an amusement park, it’s more the idea that it could exist in a small residential neighborhood.  I went on a childish quest walking this way. I was trying to find a vending machine that sold Lucky Cider, curious of what it tasted like. I had seen it the day before when I went with my coworkers to a nearby park. I couldn’t find the vending machine again but I continued walking down the road. I walked by a corner store that looked like it was a fresh produce store, and a restaurant that had a pool table and a large Gundam statue. I saw my first koban, the police officer standing attentively at the crosswalk. He nods at me and I feel nervous for no reason.  Lights are strung up in front of buildings that look like they might be houses, but the colorful lights are meant to draw customers in to whatever the building is: a basement bar, a restaurant, a hair salon to name a few.  I turn back afraid that if I get lost it will be hopeless finding my way back.

                                                                                ***

My first day observing classes, children are hesitant to approach me. I hear children ask “Atrashii no hito. Doshite?” Why am I hear, who am I this new stranger. Eventually after playing with them for a bit they start to open up. I participate in their activities. Basic English, mumbling basic words, counting numbers, beginning to integrate them into an English speaking society so unlike their own.  Sitting in the house of the head English teacher we watch action films at night. Jake Gyellenhall is in one and I make an offhanded comment about his career going downhill. The teacher remarks that “it’s all been downhill since he played that fucking faggot cowboy.” I flinch inside wanting to say something. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. My coworkers, all guys, have made offhanded gay jokes and comments since I got here. I want to come clean but at the same time, I don’t want to be treated like a leper. I don’t want them to have fear of catching “the gay” and isolate me. Some of them seem genuinely nice. I start to internalize my fear. The second day of observations, I’m asked to lead an activity. I’m ridged, nervous and fumbling. It feels like it goes horribly. I lose confidence in what I’ here to do.

                                                                                ***

 Finally after my second day of observations one of the young Japanese teachers and I have been alone talking for a long time and we talk about how I think Im going to get along. I say I think I will get along just fine, although I mention there may be some problems later on because of myself. I tell her that I’m gay and that I’m afraid that people will shun and treat me like crap. She says she understands, she has had a friend who was a lesbian and people stopped talking to her when they found out. She tells me to just tell them saying that if I don’t and let it go on silently it probably will get much worse, and she’s right. She reminds me that I made a promise to myself at one point to always be true to myself, that I wouldn’t lie to people or put myself in a place where I would be doing the same to me.

                                                                                ***

My first weekend here I am on my own. I still feel jetlagged and I spend most of the day sleeping. Later in the afternoon I leave the house to go try and find the train station that will take me downtown. Walking along busy streets, I watch how people act, noticing that all bikes stay on the sidewalk, those on the street get honked at. People do not step up to the curb at crosswalks; instead they stay almost a foot back waiting for the lights to change. I make a game out of guessing what each business is. I’m starting to remember more kanji from my classes, so it is a bit easier to identify things. I walk by a cemetery in the middle of the city. Thin graves packed tightly together next to a busy street. Some stained black from exhaust. I go into an electronic store. The greeters don’t greet me but actually turn away. Inside no one approaches me to ask if I’m finding everything alright, although I could answer them in Japanese. I look around for a few minutes and then leave. On my way out it starts raining and I am reminded of Portland, walking in the rain without an umbrella or hood. I walk for awhile following the directions I was given to the train station but soon I realize that I am not going in the right direction. I walk underneath a train going by and follow a sidewalk that leads past a rice paddy. I can hear insects buzzing everywhere. The rain starts to come down harder and I make my way back into the tunnel underneath the train. It is then that I truly feel alone. I watch spiders that have built webs in front of lights eat bugs for almost an hour. I can relate to the gnats. I walk back the way I came and make another wrong turn, but I realize it is the road I should have been on. It’s too late though. It’s dark now. The sun here sets so quickly behind the clouds, an orange ball that you can watch for a few minutes sink, sink, sink and then vanish. I give up and make my way back to the house in which I’m staying. I feel like it’s almost time to come clean.

                                                                                ***

I’m alone here in many ways. I can’t call anyone. My cell phone has absolutely no reception. Just a brick sized clock. I can’t get a phone until I get my alien registration card and a bank account, so I can’t give anyone a call to see what they’re up too. I can’t call home, or text friends. I’m really here. This is what I have signed up for.