Day 3 Journaling Challenge

Let me pose this scenario to you: You want to have a nice lunch somewhere, like in a nice cafe or a restaurant, or you want to watch this movie that you've been dying to see and have watched the trailer a hundred times due to your unsatiated desire to watch the film. Here's the catch though - you're alone - No boyfriend, friends busy on the only day you're free and your family living a thousand miles away.

How would you feel if you're in that situation? Would you still watch the movie or go dine somewhere by yourself?

9 out of 10 would say "no way! That's so sad! Call me if you want to catch a movie or go eat somewhere!"

Okay. That scenario up there is me. Obviously.

So today, while I was taking a stroll at this big mall in Okinawa, I noticed the liberating joy of being alone.

I look forward to the days and the few quiet minutes in the morning when I could be alone with my thoughts and let my mind wander & imagine things and far-off places that people around me wouldn't dare try to understand.

I look forward to the few minutes before I drift off to sleep to tell myself that I did my best today and that I could do better tomorrow.

I look forward to my day offs when my time is mine and mine alone and that I could get lost driving Rusty around town and discover new places.

I look forward to the minutes or hours spent on the floor of my room, just getting my hands tattooed with ink blots from my pen or graphite stain from my pencil.

I could go on and on but I won't bore you any further.

A lot of people identifies "being alone" to "being lonely". If you are one of them, then I don't think you'd want to read on any further. But if you're still willing to bear with me, then a big high five to you and a virtual hug from the land of Okinawa Soba and purple yam flavored KitKats. (You're so defensive, Daphne)

There are a lot of days when I long for a companion or a partner. Sometimes, I can't help but think that I should have brought one of my sisters or my friends with me here in Okinawa. During the times I'm in pain, I would sorely wish that someone would buy me a painkiller or cook me congee or caress my hair until I fall asleep.

However, I have more instances that I am thankful that I am alone. Like times when I want to walk around the house naked or sing my heart out in the car without the fear of damaging someone's eyes or eardrums. Many times, I am thankful that I am the only one to endure my cooking or my messy room or my random loud farts. Every day, I am grateful that I am building the courage to fight the fear of doing things by myself, loving myself and admitting to myself that sometimes I am beautiful and it's okay to love even the most broken part of me.

Aloneness is not loneliness my friends.

This time of my life is the truest I've ever been to myself. I admit I still like my old Animes, braiding my hair and sleeping with my stuffed animals. There are times that I would try to change them but inevitably, I learned to accept them. This childish Daphne is another part of me that I need to embrace.

Being alone taught me how to accept myself wholeheartedly, through loud farts and bad morning breath.

Being alone taught me that I have untapped strength within me that would get me through anything in life - bad period pains, stubbed toe nails or broken hearts.

Being alone taught me that you are responsible for your own happiness and that happiness lies within you.

Being alone doesn't suck. It's fun! It's just a matter of perspective. Just think about that whole tub of ice cream all to yourself :)

I should get a haircut soon

Day 2 Journaling Challenge

Before I start, here's a disclaimer: this journal entry is not a love story. Sorry to disappoint!

Today, I noticed this feeling of rookieness, thanks to this cute waiter/floor staff guy in this restaurant I went to for lunch. I noticed how frantic and clueless he was, going here and there, making mistakes here and there, and just plainly having a bad day at work.

I remember the days when I first held the wheel of a car and my first test drive on the road - sweaty palms, drumming heart, and pulse at 150 miles per minute.

I remember the time when I first held my very first class as a teacher. I am not the merry-type of person (not to be confused with marry) and I am not especially the one to strike a conversation first. My voice was shaking, my knees were trembling and I plastered this twitchy smile on my face the entire 60 minutes of my first ever English conversation class.

I remember my first day of being alone in a foreign country and my first time being so far away from my family. I second-guessed every decision made. Each day I thought I sucked at adulting and being responsible for myself.  And I hated my inability to do anything on my own. 

But guess what? I survived all of these!

As I was driving home tonight on the dark yet peaceful streets of Okinawa (save for my out-of-tune singing in the car), I looked at my hands clutching the wheel and realized "Wow! I can drive! It kinda felt like a dream, but I can drive!"

Not so long ago, I was overwhelmed and terrified of doing these things. It still feels like a dream but look at me now! It may be far from perfect but I'm doing it!

The stage of rookieness (okay, I'm coining this word) is a phase of total confusion and totally feeling stupid and helplessness and hating every part of you for not getting it right the first time. I totally understand cute guy's expression earlier - the expression of sheer flabbergast in a jungle of hungry Japanese people and a super busy kitchen. But let me tell you, just hang in there and try not to kick anyone's dog!

After you've thought you got the hang of everything and you're pass the stage of rookieness. You know, like when you're playing Snakes and Ladders or Dark Souls 2. You'd think, "wow! I'm almost in the finish line!" Then, you'll land on a snake and it will send you back to square 1 or an enemy boss would totally kick your ass after grinding all day and you'd realize that THIS IS DARK SOULS! WHO AM I KIDDING?!

No matter where we are in life, we'll experience so much rookieness that a week or a month (depending where you are on the board) won't be enough to tell all about it. 

I am still a rookie in life. Sometimes  Most of the time, it makes me want to pull all the hairs on my head and kick my neighbors noisy chihuahuas (Yes, you're not imagining it. There's more than one). Ironically, it gives me comfort too - that everyone else on the planet is a rookie like me who are trying to figure out where they're going and what they're doing.

And as for you cute guy, even though you totally sucked today, tomorrow, who knows, you might not suck so much. Until then, try not to mix up other people's orders. It's a good place to start.

You may be a rookie now, but tomorrow, who knows, maybe you'll be a rookie level 2 and that's not so bad! . If that gives you any comfort.

Proud of my beginner's mark

Day 1 Journaling Challenge

Today I noticed how I keep killing my plants...involuntarily, of course. The first one I had was last year, around the middle of summer, when I moved fresh to my tiny but adorable apartment which sometimes smells weirdly of sewers and a dead rat? I tried to find the source of the only thing I hate about my little space but all my efforts were futile. I've turned everything over inside and out. Nothing. Sometimes, I can't help but think that I have an invisible room mate who would leave a generous fart so something would greet me when I come home.

By the way, the first one died a wrinkly death.

Anyway, again, I tried my hands on a new plant. It was love at first sight. It's a shinobu plant I bought from a 100 yen store. With this little one, I put a lot of heart and hope that I will be able to provide him a well-lead life. Every day, I would wake up and look at him gently swaying from the breeze coming from my window, some of his arms raised in a salute towards the sky. Every day too, I would see that some of his arms fall to his side, wilting and dying on his sad blue can. Now, I can only see a couple still fighting and I, sometimes, in desperate hope, would whisper 'gambare' (do your best/keep fighting) to it.

And yet, I know the truth, but I don't want to stop hoping for his well-lead life. 

Hanzo, my shinbou plant

To you who I almost loved

Do you remember the time when you plucked the first note and how starry-eyed I looked as you played your lullaby? I kept every melody, the way your caramel eyes looked whenever you entered in the trance of your own music, and every lyrics I've been wanting to sing but never did.

Do you remember those mornings when we'll bask in the sun and get lost in each other's broken language? Laughing, dreaming and me, quietly wishing it would never end?

Do you remember when we would dare dream about the future? Yours was as bright as the sunlight against my stark and hopeless dreams of what I could be?

If you don't, I do. Until now it still haunts me; your songs in my playlist became a shadow of you; your stories remained tattooed but narrated in someone else's voice now; the time I've spent with you became a distant memory, a memory I hope never to go back to.

I was ashamed.  I was guilty of dreaming of loving you. I looked like a complete idiot, thinking that I could finally allow myself to love someone again.

It was a bright afternoon, I remember. I rushed down the flight of stairs, my heart pounding against my chest.

"You could do this! You got this" I repeated to myself. "Today is the day I'll tell!"

My palms were sweaty and you kept your eyes fixed on the ground. We walked past one, two and on the third block, you stopped and turned around. You looked nervous and your voice was shaking when you said, "Did you know?"

How could you bring yourself to forget the day when everything suddenly fell apart? Like the ground swallowing you up or someone hammering your knees but you were not allowed to scream or cry in pain?

"Yes" I croaked and swallowed hard as my heart was being torched to ashes.

Yes. I knew.

I knew that you love someone else, but I was just too afraid to say I do. I saw the signs, but I shook it off as a bad dream. I prayed and I hoped that for once,what my gut was telling me was a completely and utter lie.

And yet, I have to hear it from you, because if I didn't, then I would be trapped in this stupid fantasy.

"Do you feel anything for me?" you asked so softly, as if you were being careful not to break me.

Did you know, during that moment, I have to fight with all my might not to cry in front of you? Did you know that I forced myself to smile and say 'no' so I won't have to put you through any pain because of my puny and desperate feelings for you? Did you know that I did all of that because I almost loved you?

I waited until I could no longer see you from the corner of the street. I tried hard to stop myself from running to where no one could see or hear me and cry and scream until I fall asleep. When I finally allowed myself to breathe, bleed and grieve,  I let myself bury every memory of you so I could stop myself from running back and tell you that 'yes, I do feel something for you'.

It was too late, I know, but I didn't regret it. I was consumed with loathing for myself then and I wouldn't want anyone to deal with that.

I hope that you are happy and healthy wherever you are right now. I know that somewhere out there, with your heart on your sleeves, you are chasing after your dreams on your big bicycle.

I could still see you running barefoot in the grass, laughing and jumping, in my mind. I could still hear the echoes of your music, but not your voice for it has completely faded away.  I could still remember your favorites, but I'll avoid them in the aisles of the grocery store.

The bleeding has stopped now and the wound is starting to heal.

I hope that you are too, with whatever pain I caused you, but I hope with all my heart to never see you again.

More Than Six Months After

Was it after I came back to Okinawa? Was it after I turned down numerous invitation to parties and meet ups? Was it when I've decided that I will press the restart button? I can't remember the exact date I stopped writing or rather...forgot how to write.

I could remember so vividly the days I wrote feverishly on my train ride home, my body swaying but my pen and paper steadily and desperately trying to keep up with my thoughts. I could recall exactly the moments when words would haunt me during my walks after work and I, running like a mad man up the steps to my home, possessed by the hunger to give life to those words.

When did I stop? When did I stopped trying? When did I forget? I couldn't recall.

Writing is what I've worked so hard to be known for. Don't get me wrong. I am not a professional writer nor did I get a formal education on it. Days when my eyes would strain from reading, sleepless night because I couldn't put down a book, and words of the authors I so dearly admired were the things that shaped me as a writer (in my dreams!).

Now, you might be wondering why I am blabbing about writing. Well, you see, my mom, whom I spoke a couple of days ago asked me why I stopped writing. My sister did ask me the same thing a month ago too.

Those questions struck me hard.

Like really rock solid, avalanche and tsunami mashing up together, rushing towards me kind of hard.

It's the same as if they're looking for me. Kind of like - Daphne, where are you?

And oh my god! Did that wake me up.

"I'm here! I'm here!" I wanted to yell.

"I just kind of forgot where I was....I guess?" 

I am not yet in my 60's and yet, I am starting to forget. The one thing I have passionately fantasized about, daydreamed all my life, and built my dreams on is slipping from my heart. AND that's one of the worst possible things that could ever happen to me. 

That's kind of sad, don't you think?

It stirred my insides in a different kind of way - something like a seasick and post roller coaster kind of sick.

That's why I am here, jamming on my keyboards desperately, the kind of desperate that maybe, my whole system would wake up and start writing again not like I used to, but more than I used to.

Sincerely and would write again (I hope),

Daphne


**If you've read until the end, I've sent you a million of virtual corgis to keep you warm throughout your million lifetimes. You rock!

Through Foreign Eyes

Leaving the familiar faces and the comfort of the walls you’ve known as long as you can remember is indeed, daunting. It’s not as if you will never go back. It’s just the fear of the unknown – what lies ahead? Will I be able to swim around this new strange land that my eyes have only touched in colorful videos and the glossy pages of my textbooks?

And yet, you gave it a go, a heartfelt “yes” with your eyes brimming with both excitement and fear. Before you knew it, you’re hopping into the plane en route to Japan, saying your tearful “see you soon”, “be sure to call me” and “take care” to your family.

It may seem a long journey – probably difficult, probably scary but definitely worthwhile. Soon, however, you will pack your backs and you will have to say your “be sure to keep in touch” and “take care” to your newfound friends.

This article is intended to offer you a glimpse of what it is like to live as a 留学生(ryuugakusei) or Foreign student (you will be holding on to that title for a while).  Written below are based from my own experience.  

  

Phase 1: The Adjustment

As soon as you take your first step in the concrete lands of Japan, it will feel as if everything is a moving picture. The beauty that suddenly is tangible feels too overwhelming. The phrases that you hear from your audio tapes in your class suddenly fall from the lips of real people. The food that you so longingly wanted to try tasted unlike how you imagined them to be (delicious or disgusting as you may have expected it). You unpack your bags and quietly arrange them in the corners of your room – a home you will call it for a year or so. You will be reluctant to travel around the city for a while. You will draw a map of it in your palms and mark an ‘X’ to the places that you deem safe. You will be greeted by your new professors, your new classmates and your new subjects to take. You will have to speak Japanese every single time and will find comfort in speaking your native tongue when you met a fellow from the same country. You will always feel tired from all the adjusting and will fill this insatiable rush coursing through you at the same time from all this possibilities lain before you.

Phase 2: Lectures, Friends and Routines

You finally have settled down. The scary streets are not so frightening no more. The ‘new’ faces are now your friends and people you can lean on. The moving pictures are now places familiar to you. You can walk on them like they are the streets you’ve grown up at. You are still frightened of the locals but somehow have the courage to strike a conversation with them. You will go to class, receive loads of homework and somehow, still find a way to go to parties organized by your classmates and go drinking and talking with them until dawn. You will fall into this ‘routine’ where you add beautiful moments each time in your life.

Phase 3:  What lies ahead

You felt that your Japanese have improved. You can now write coherent sentences and you can report in front of class whilst your shaking knees and fingers. You have somehow gotten to around Japan, marking your map with an ‘O’ for each places you’ve touched. You have tons of photos and videos of you and your friends, but you also have tons of photos of the beautiful sunsets and sunrises that you knew will forever remained tattooed in your memories. Then, questions of “what will you do after you go home?” start pouring in. You are caught off guard each time you hear one. ‘Where should I go?”, “What should I do after?” crowds your head. You look ahead, you sketch a map and everything gets more confusing. Soon, you will leave this place and the reality will start seeping in. And yet, no matter how lost you feel you might be, deep in your heart, you know that you will find what you are looking for because you managed to survive a year or so in a land so alien before to you which now you can call home.

 I haven’t reached the last phase but I am heading there soon. It is hard to imagine saying goodbye to the scent of the breeze gently making its way to you in the morning. I cannot bear to part with the friends I have shared so many great lessons, failures and success and adventures with. Somehow, someway, I know that because of this experience as 留学生 or foreign student, I know that I can get through whatever comes ahead of me.

Sometimes, being lost and confused is a good place to start, you know? 

Wednesdays

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

My heart leaps.

It's dear Wednesday again.

The leaves shine a little brighter, my heart beats a little faster and my mind turns a little hazier.

I wipe the sweat from my palms. I straighten my skirt. I check if I still have some lipstick on.

It's Wednesday, after all

A moment when I allow myself to be a little selfish than usual - a day when I am allowed to hear your voice and memorize its every rise and fall. Minutes when I can stare back at you unashamed and speak to you with all honesty - except that I can't say how much I like you. Seconds when I hold on to the sound of your laughter and etch your smile in the canvas of my brain.

And after all, it's all I long to do when it's not Wednesday again.

Thursday - I see you in the crowd.
Friday - I hear your favorite song in the radio.
Saturday -  The late sunset is your favorite color.
Sunday - Writing about you in my journal.
Monday - I dreamed of you again.
Tuesday -  I remember your wish.

Then, I saw you on your white shirt walking towards me, one Friday night. My voice quivers from my throat. My world quakes a little every time I hear my name from your lips. I did my best to hide how clumsy I am in front of you.

Your eyes lit up from the lights of the stars I gave you, one Saturday night.  I don't know if you notice how I was shaking all the way through as I bravely stepped in your front door. I don't know if you saw how I leaped above my fears so that you won't be alone on the last eve of your 20's.

But it's not a Wednesday. I am stripped of my entitlement. I am out of my league.

I wanted more. Not just a Wednesday. I want to quietly sip my coffee with you on a Monday. I want to sit by you as we pass the roads overflowing with lights on a Tuesday. I want to hear all about your old adventures on a Thursday. I want to be there for you when you think you have no one to hold you on a Friday. I want to lay down under the stars with you and hear you hum my favorite song on a Saturday. I want to curl in front of the TV and say nothing at all with you on a Sunday too.

But that's not the case.

We live in a separate world when it's not a Wednesday. You made that clear for sure. I closed my eyes when you slammed the door. I shut my ears when I heard the silence. I covered my mouth when you said nothing but my quiet prayers.

After all, it's not a Wednesday.

I am doing my best to digest it. I am convincing my heart to ingest it. I am telling myself to swallow it.

But It's not a Wednesday.

When it is not, you are too far away for me to reach and too dangerous for me to touch. We revert back to strangers, shadows, a distant dream. Our worlds turn black and white, far apart, unrecognizable.

After all, it's not my dear Wednesday.