February 28, 2008

• Yes, my love.

  In a series of unfortunate events, I have been doing some major damage to my laptop. I dropped it twice when talking to my parents, which didn't seem to have much of an effect, but the oil that I spilled on my keyboard certainly did. I'm now lacking the use of "Q" "S" and" "D". I tried cleaning the keys but to no avail. Its only the clever use of my stylus buttons and Dvorak key mapping that I'm able to type this coherently at all, but damned if I'm not significantly slowed down by it. Kudos for me for ruining the letters I need for both plural and past tense.

  Those of you who know me know that I have been babbling about traveling to Europe for about a year now. I've been wishing, hoping, dreaming, and even half-heartedly planning. Then a casual email flicked out into the universe just happened to find someone looking for someone who's a whole lot like me. I'm now interviewing at his company, and will be traveling to Paris in just a few weeks to do some consulting and just maybe land a job. I feel amazingly privileged and lucky and excited to have not only found a job like this, but also to have lead a life that makes me feel not only prepared, but deserving of the opportunity.

  But not everything can be perfect. If I had the ability, I'd want to take everything and everyone that I love with me from place to place to place, but that just isn't possible. Two years after taking leave of my friends and family back home, I propose to do the same thing again. I may be home this time for as little as two weeks. I know that I'm disappointing some people, and I know that some relationships that have barely been holding on for two years just might flounder under the strain of two more. The longer I stay away the more things change, especially at this early stage in people's lives, and the more things change the harder it will be for me to fit back in my old friend's lives by the time I do return.

  And then there are the people I've met here that have become so important, mostly my best gal pal, who will be sorely missed. I'm leaving a lovely group of friends, not to mention the lovely group that has already left me; a steady stream of researchers, interns, and adventurers that sat a spell in Tokyo and continued on their way. I hope to see many of them again, out in the "world". Being part of an expat community means that everything is in flux, and meeting people means saying goodbye sooner than you would like. There is no help for this.

  And then I met someone in a crowded, noisy room and I told him that I have been in Toyko for nearly two years and would be leaving in two months. And he just nodded because at that point he didn't care.

  And now he says, "Are you really leaving?"

  And he whispers, "Will you write?"

  And I look around at my room full of things packed and unpacked and I think of all the things I am and am not capable of doing. About my choices and what they mean for the people around me and for my own future. I know I can pick up and leave my natural surroundings, but not without bringing and then accumulating a bunch of junk and memorabilia. I know I can leave the people I love, but not without first convincing myself that one day we can always go back to being just the way we were. And I can stand enveloped in someone's arms and feel better than I ever have before, and still know I can't change my mind, not now.

  And I know I can stand looking out over the lake in Ueno and see how god damn dingy it is and how awful the homeless people look sleeping in the beautiful golden light and know in my heart that it's time to leave. And I can feel the pull of an unknown, distant city, an unknown language and people. A brand new adventure and an exciting new beginning. And I give myself a look and ask myself if I can handle it, and after all I've been through, there's really only one answer.

  That doesn't make it any easier, however, to give up everything you've built in one place and know that your new construction project, like a Tokyo sidewalk, is just gonna get torn up in a few years too. And to know that you're gonna do it again and again because you're addicted and don't know any other way to live. But I still don't have the skin for this business, or the heart either, and when he says, "Will you come see me tonight?" and even though there's a million things for me to do, the only answer I can give slips out before I have time to think about it.

  • 6:26 am
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