July Journal

July 4, 2004 Sun. 3AM

I decided early on tonight that I was not going to let the recent news of my illness affect my patriotic glee. After being in a funk all week since the last doctor’s appointment, my inner child finally made her appearance, and not a minute too soon.

Mere and I headed to Suma Beach straight after work and met Simona at the Suma train station. She was already drinking a Chu-hi that she’d purchased at the train station convenience store, and had stuffed several in her purse for later consumption. I was obligated to buy at least a couple of Chu-hi’s and a beer, because I knew the Ghost of July 4th Present would haunt me later if I didn’t celebrate with some good ol’ trusty alcohol.

I daresay this was a July 4th celebration, but probably more of a coincidence that it happened to fall around the time of several Sayonara parties, Catherine’s being one of them.

The party itself was really fun. I didn’t get too drunk… only drank said couple of Chu-hi’s and said beer. (I wanted to appease the Ghost of July 4th Present but not incur the wrath of Ghost of Hangovers Yet To Come.) Still, although sobriety was within yelling distance, I ended up doing a lot of stupid stuff, as usual. How does that happen to me? I just can’t seem to turn the idiot button off. And even one drink makes the prospect of pressing that button all the more attractive. I don’t remember anything very specific (I guess blackouts have their advantages after all) but I know there was a lot of crazy dancing going on in the vicinity of my body, coupled with the occasional America-inspired holler. Once, during one of the more animated displays of my dance recital, I got a little too close to a firecracker and lost some arm hair. (In my defense, though, that guy shouldn’t have lit it anywhere near me.) I think I stopped dancing after that (for safety reasons) but one can never be sure.

Simona, on the other hand, drank exorbitant amounts of alcohol and launched into the I-Love-You-Man’s early on. I last saw her walking down the beach with some guy around 11pm. She still isn’t home yet. Hmm. Seems our sweet little Simona has revealed her wild side… I haven’t seen anyone drink like that since I was in the Air Force! I’m quite impressed with her, and simultaneously shamed that I cannot hold half a beer without having to pee five times.

I met a nice guy tonight who claims to love Lord of the Rings and Star Wars as much as I. (He reminded me of Calvin, whom I miss terribly, but whose friendship was too precious to risk romantic involvement.) And at the end of the night he kissed me on the cheek. I don’t think that’s happened since the third grade. Is it possible for me to attract a nice young man whose intentions are remotely close to honest? It must’ve been my dancing that drew him in.

Aside from the lack of barbecue, it was a proper Independence Day. Lots of fireworks and drunken assholes, as similar to an at-home celebration as could be. I walked home with a slightly buzzed Meredith, sandals full of sand, wet, sweaty jeans full of sand, a gut full of Chu-hi and a spirit full of joy.

Happy Fourth, America, Land I Miss.

July 5, 2004 Mon. 10:40PM

Mere, Sim and I seem to have settled into a comfortable dynamic. We’re all getting along fairly well, despite Mere’s pleas that I wash the dishes more and despite my pleas that she shut the hell up. Sim is trying to be Switzerland in this apartment, as she is the newest member of Notorious #602. It’s kinda funny now… instead of being exasperated with my aversion to cleanliness, Mere just smiles, and now instead of wanting to pinch her head off, I affectionately refer to her as the Dish Nazi. She likes it. I guess we’ve all got so much dirt on each other by now that we dare not piss each other off. (Of course, I say that now… let’s see how I feel after our Scrabble rematch, scheduled for this week.)

Cutie Beach Guy sent me a few text messages today on my cell phone, all involving some kind of Lord of the Rings reference. It appears that his self-proclaimed fanaticism in ostensibly sincere. (Although he did make the accusation that Billy Boyd is gay… not the ideal thing to say if one is to receive my good graces.) He’s supposed to be coming over this week to watch Return of the King, which I currently have on DVD. I’m not sure if this is called a date, but I’m guessing not, since it is well known in social circles that my having a date is surely a sign of the Apocalypse.

July 7, 2004 Wed. 12:10AM

Ah, weekend.

Today is Tanabata, a day remembered for two legendary Japanese teenagers whose love was thwarted. It’s like a Japanese Romeo and Juliet, though many people believe they actually existed and visit us living folk here on Earth every July 7th. From what I can gather, the girl, Orihime, was a seamstress who was bored with her life and wanted some action. One of the gods (which one of the eight million, I don’t know) allowed her to cross the river to meet Hikoboshi, the young stud. Apparently, though, Hikoboshi had some smooth moves, and Orihime refused to come back. Said god got angry, and banished her back to the land of sewing and ennui. From that point on, the lovers were only allowed to meet once a year, even in the afterlife, evidently. The Japanese believe Orihime is Vega and Hikoboshi is Altair, so that when earthlings look up at the night sky we can all see them and their celestial prisons. I had seen little slips of paper tied to trees this week and wondered what that was all about, and now I know: The lovelorn teenagers evidently agreed (or were forced?) to grant a wish to anyone willing to write it down and tie it to a tree, provided it was securely fastened on or by July 7th.

This gave me an idea.

I had a lesson with two of my favorite students, Mitsuki (my age) and Asayo, (about twenty). To practice some grammar structures, they had to write down their wishes, and I agreed to tie them to a tree. "Are you going to read these?" Mitsuki asked shortly after she began her assignment. I knew she was lacking confidence in the area of grammar, and I didn’t want to stress her out. She’s really shy.

"Nobody’s going to see these," I lied. Actually, I would probably be the only one to see them. "Do you believe in the legend?"

She nodded her head.

"Well, then, Orihime and Hikoboshi will be the only ones to see them."

She brightened a little at that prospect and continued her work. A few minutes later, Asayo claimed she was done. "Would you mind telling us what you wished for?"

"I wished for good seats at the Blue concert next month," Asayo said.

"Uh, okay. And Mitsuki? Can you tell us what you wished for?" I said.

She hesitated. "I wished for better job," she said.

After class I collected their slips of paper and took them to the staff room to find some string, with every intention of hanging them on the tree outside my office building. I decided to take a peek, just to see if their grammar was correct. Asayo’s paper said, "I wish to see good seats at Blue concert." Good enough.

Mitsuki’s, however, was not what I expected.

"I wish Susan would get health and no more illness."

Our staff room was a flurry of activity at that moment, so I assume no one noticed the tears in my eyes. I quickly recovered, punched holes in the papers, and threaded them with some string. Then I wrote on my own slip of paper, "I wish Mitsuki would find happiness." It wasn’t the cleverest or most stunning declaration I’ve ever written, but it was what was in my heart at the time. Besides, I highly doubt those Japanese teenagers will be judging me on my literary ability.

I hope Mitsuki believes in that legend. I hope she believes enough for the both of us.

July 8, 2004 Thurs. 10AM

I called home today because it is my dad’s 80th birthday. I thought he might be taking a celebratory nap or perhaps eating a celebratory Mr. Goodbar, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

"Your daddy went skydiving!" my mom said with excited but apprehensive pleasure.

Perhaps I hadn’t heard her correctly. "He did what?"

"Well, actually, they wouldn’t let him do it because he weighed twenty-five pounds over the maximum allowable weight. But he did some of the training and now he’s on a diet, because he wants to lose the weight before you get home so you can do it with him."

I couldn’t believe my ears. "Are you serious?"

"He says if President Bush can do it on his eightieth birthday, he certainly could. He’s eating his birthday fat-free jello right now."

I was stunned. My father, star of his own fictional TV series Extreme Napping, has now become best-supporting actor in the fictional TV series Extreme Old Man Behavior. "What caused this sudden thrill-seeking behavior?"

"Well, he’s either gone plum crazy in his old age, or it might be the Viagra."

Gross. I really hope it’s not the latter.

My "date" is tonight, and Mere and Sim are skipping around here and giggling, like it’s my first date in twenty years. I think they are more excited than I am.

Their personalities are so different. Mere bought some stuff for the apartment, including an obscene array of cleaning supplies, trash bags, toilet paper, a new spice rack, and some really horrid wall plug-ins. Simona and I were marveling at all the needless things Mere bought (which were an obvious attempt to get us to clean) and suddenly Sim remarked, "Hey, I bought some stuff for the apartment, too."

"Oh yeah? What’d you get?" Mere and I asked.

"Some reggae CD’s and a measuring cup."

She was obviously proud of her contribution, and it made me smile. A while later after Mere left, Sim and I were speculating about Mere’s possible frustration with our cleaning apathy. "In case she asks, have you bought anything for the apartment lately?"

"No," I said, "but there’s a whole backpack full of Band-aids and Q-tips I bogarted from the hospital last week."

"Sweet," she said, and gave me a high-five. "Hey, next time you go to the doctor, see if you can lift some decent toilet paper. The stuff Mere bought sucks."

That Simona, I like the way she thinks.

July 22, 2004 Thurs. 10:10PM

With a heavy heart, I have decided to put in my resignation.

I think it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. After deliberating about it for weeks, the constant bad news finally tipped the scales. It was tipping pretty fast after the big blow-out between Meredith and me (which I have decided not to air on a website, although I have the power to, but I decided to be the bigger person) but yesterday’s hospital appointment at Kobe Rousai hospital was the final straw. Dr. Yamamoto called me today with the results of yesterday’s exam, much of which is too technical and confusing to try to repeat, but I heard his last statements loud and clear: "You should reary go home and be with your famiry now, right… okay?"

"You mean I can’t stay in Japan and complete this treatment?" I pleaded.

"No. You need to go home. I am sorry."

It was like a kick in the gut, worse than anything I’ve ever endured in karate. It was punctuated by his sudden clear accent, devoid of its usual comedy, and his lack of right-okay’s. He was serious.

I have at least one more hospital appointment to endure on August 5th, but there is now no question in my mind about where my immediate path lies.

I do not want to leave. This place is my home, my friend. I feel like I have to apologize to Japan for leaving. It’s not Japan’s fault that I got sick or that my roommate and I have come to blows. Japan did nothing but allow me to enjoy its glory, its mountains, history and people. I feel as if I have cheated it somehow… like, by not completing my first contract, I have done Japan wrong. I want to make amends. I just don’t know how.

I guess I can start by first getting well, then returning to this land.

Right. Okay.

July 28, 2004 Wed. 12:30AM

Mom’s 74th birthday. Will probably call home tomorrow because of the time difference. I’m fairly certain that she did not go skydiving on her birthday like dad. (She probably spent the day knitting.)

Had some free time with Asayo today (the one who wished for good seats at the Blue concert…) She is such a happy-go-lucky person, a normal size, not rail-thin like most Japanese women, and has the funniest personality of just about any student I know. It was just us today in the spare room, chatting away. Not long after our chat began, she said, "Susan, what does f--- mean?"

"Uh…" I began, unsure of how to proceed with this discussion. Apparently she heard it in several movies but couldn’t find it in the dictionary. I started to tell her to ask Liam, just so he would have to struggle to explain dirty words (a chore he abhors). But then I thought to myself, I’m a good English teacher, I can explain this with tact and class. No problem.

"Well, there’s the verb form…" (which I explained as clinically as possible) "…and then there are the most common slang forms, like if you drop something on your foot, you might say, ‘Ow! F---!’ And then there’s the substitute for the word very. For example, ‘Liam is so f---ing anal.’ Just an example, of course," I added.

She studied her notes for a moment. "Can you say, ‘It is f---ing hot outside’?"

"Absolutely."

"How about, ‘Ow, f---, I have cramps’?"

"Sure."

She ran wild with examples. I was enjoying this banter, because a) it sure helped me get my mind off my own problems, and b) getting paid to teach cusswords is probably the ideal job. She presented so many examples, all in correct form, that finally she asked what you couldn’t use that word for.

I told her not to use it in church. Other than that, it is used more frequently than I care to admit. "My family is Buddhist. We don’t go to church. Does that mean I can use it all the time and everyone will understand me?" she asked.

"Well, Asayo, technically it’s rude. But around me it’s perfectly okay."

"Oh, that’s f---ing great!" she squealed.

I think I have just created a monster.

A while later, James came out of the spare room laughing and blushing. "Asayo just told me I was f---ing hot," he said.

One thing about Asayo… she learns quickly, in a variety of ways.