Reasons for living

On August 20th of 2007, I wrote the following in my journal:

A funny thing happened in the past couple weeks in that I've stopped worrying so much about my adjustment to Japan. That's not to say I've necessarily found my footing or escaped the anxiety of communicating in a completely new language, but I'm quickly building things - concrete, substantial things (namely, friendships) - that can make for a great life, not just a great day or week. As much as I don't like to admit it, this is my new life. Maybe just for now, but a new life nonetheless.

I began this blog less than a month before the above entry was written to try to, in a way, wrap my arms around my experience here and dole out in small pieces bits of information I saw fit for public consumption. While I've always in some way written about myself (albeit with a motherly protection for personal relationships), it's been a glossier and altogether more streamlined version of me. Truth be told, I expect that's unlikely to change any time soon. But when a friend recently asked me my reasons for staying in Japan next year, I felt that an honest and sincere answer was not only the polite option but also the necessary one. Below is more or less what I told him (or, you know, her...)

When I came to Japan, I felt that I was looking for something. What that "thing" was I'm still somewhat unsure of, but I suspect it had less to do with happiness than it did challenge and adventure. Through the course of 18 months, and weaving through journal entries like the one above, I think I more or less found whatever it was I was looking for. And what I've found now is that I enjoy life at the end of the tunnel (or at least somewhere in the middle) more than I thought I might. I thought I was being cryptic last January when I posted a U2 single cover on here, but it's probably more likely that I was just being an asshole. Being lost is sexy, yes, but being happy and comfortable ain't so bad either. I've started shopping for a better TV and new furniture for my apartment, and I in no way feel guilty about that. We middle-class white kids like to listen to indie rock and turn our backs on conventionality and run away from what we should have been happy with all along, but we should also be able to appreciate those moments in which everything seems right. For every Christopher McCandless out there there's someone like me who finds he's content right where he is - and when compared to freezing to death in the Alaskan wilderness, that's not such a tough fate to swallow.

So in a word, I'm happy. Fulfilled might even be a better word. I may not be making facebook albums or twittering about how amazing my life is (i have the best friendz evr!!!), but I don't think life works that way anyhow. What appears on this page may never match the nakedness of what gets put down in my journal, but complex emotions weren't meant to be organized in triangle points under a drop-down archive menu. Just know that I'm happy, and that's why I'm staying. Maybe just for now, but happy nonetheless.