And you and I

In case anyone still reads this, I am, for the time being, going to sign off officially. I have a girlfriend. I know you all know this, but I like rubbing it in your faces as much as possible. This fairly recent fact is to blame for my past\future lack of blogging activity. The purpose of a blog is to update interested parties on every mundane detail of my hum-drum life. Well, there is only one detail now, and, as I said before, it's not exactly something that I care to discuss in a public forum. Plus, I'm sure you would quickly tire of hearing about her. So, I am signing off officially, though I will still allow access to viewing\commentary (which I will never check). So, enjoy this, my little chrysalis of perfection.

Sayonara, as they say.

Dear Blog faithful,

As I have more or less passed unscathed through the first half of my contract (assuming I don't end up finding a reason to extend), I decided now was a pretty good time to give you a brief rundown. Also, most of this stuff was already written anyway in that church letter and annual report I told you about.

First, for anyone who has made the unfortunate mistake of stumbling upon this site, a brief bio: My name is Nicholas Mason. I have brown eyes, brown hair, am 6 feet tall with a firm chin, and winning smile. I’ve grown up all across the South East, but my family has settled for the time being in Orange Park, Florida. I attended Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC, where I received a B.A. in Music and enjoyed jaw-dropping levels of popularity. I knew I would have to attend graduate school, a music degree being not too terribly marketable, but I thought it might be time for a break from schooling and decided to go into banking. A few rejections later, I was onboard Northwest flight 7635 (I just made that up; I have no idea what my flight number was) bound for Tokyo.

Now, for anyone who wasn't able to hear my sob-stories from Tokyo: I remember it like it was over a year and a half ago, which is to say that I don’t remember it well at all. My first memories of Japan are clouded in exhaustion—due in equal parts to jetlag and my encountering of a foreign culture—but I believe overwhelmed is the best way to describe my initial experiences. The opening of Lost in Translation (the part right after the bit of Scarlet Johansson nudity) pretty well sums up my first night here: I was spent, and the bright lights, the number of people, and my complete linguistic inadequacy brought me to the brink of collapse.

My first week or so conducted itself much the same as my first night, and thus my memories thereof are a muddled collage of cute little Japanese Rail (JR) jingles, sometimes impressive, sometimes tawdry electronic displays, and the general befuddlement that comes with being not quite au fait.

Note, the above paragraph can be found, more or less unchanged, in my first or second blog post, I forget which. Look it up, I'm not going to link it for you.

All together, I spent six months in Tokyo studying Japanese, and, if I can be frank, it was pretty awful. My time there was marked with hours of downtime, hours of floundering, hours of commuting, and a few minutes of study. I had only 3 hours of class a day, which, as you can imagine, gave rise to many of those soul-searching “why am I here” sorts of questions. However, Tokyo did provide me with ample time for reading and pouring over a thesaurus for words like “au fait”.

Kumamoto: A few months before language school “graduation” I found out that I would be placed in—thank the Lord—Kumamoto, on the island of Kyushu. I say, “thank the Lord” because my only other option would have been placement in Tokyo, and frankly, I’d had enough of Tokyo. And lot's of things changed: I cut my girly hair, took care of that nasty facial growth, threw away the flower-print shirt, donated my collection of designer man-purses to the local orphanage (orphans got a right to pizazz too), and I also lost a little weight.

The nice thing about working is that it creates a bit of a snowball effect: after that catalyst (employment) is reached, one feels more inclined toward self-improvement, shouldering new responsibilities, and tackling new assignments. Once I adjusted to the rigors of the new work environment, I decided that I needed an activity, a goal to shoot for and to occupy my free time. So I chose two—a full marathon and the 3rd level Japanese proficiency exam (the Sankyu) — and did both in a sort-of slipshod fashion.

I’m attending 大江教会 (pronounced “Oe Kyokai”) out here, which means “Big River Church”. I don’t know why they call it “Big River Church” because, so far as I can tell, there are no big rivers close by. The atmosphere is warm even if the temperature is not, and the people are friendly and caring, if a little demanding. I generally show up a few minutes late, but they don’t say anything because I move all their heavy equipment and furniture for them. They can’t seem to decide where they want their piano, which floats between the sanctuary and fellowship hall, depending on the phase of the moon and the planets currently in retrograde. It’s a good thing I have another J-3 (our unofficial title out here, so called because we are part of a 3 year program in Japan) there to help me because the average member’s age is about 104.

And that rigorous work environment I wrote about above is found at my school, Luther Gakuin, “The Happiest Place on Earth”. True story: Martha Akard (our school’s founder) once lost in a high-stakes game of Texas Hold ‘Em to Walt Disney and had to give up the epithet. True story.

The reason I still use it is because of a few key members of the staff. One, who for privacy’s sake we’ll call Yoshiko, is always kind enough to correct our culture faux pas and slam shut the international office’s door so as not to let any of our air-conditioning or heating into the hallway. Another, whom I affectionately call “The Bane of my Existence”, is not terribly fond of his job as music director, so he graciously passes it on to me. But in all seriousness, it’s the students who make my time here worth it. Why just the other day I had one teach me a few obscene phrases in Japanese, telling me they were commonly used and a great way to keep rowdy students in line. For practice, I had the students start talking really loudly, and then I yelled some of these choice expletive phrases. The windows were open, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be asked to extend my contract.

But, by and large, I am enjoying my time here; the amount of times I’ve had my chest grabbed (very disturbing the first time it happens to you) and the number of marriage proposals is always flattering. And, I find the Japanese people to be generally polite and inviting. Ah, but, the heart of the matter: Why am I here? Good question. How will this help me prepare for my future? I've no idea. I've struggled with both of these questions and more over the past year and a half, and the general conclusion I come to is that my future and my circumstances are direct results of my decision-making, for good or for ill. The future is entirely unknown to us, and all we can be expected to do is make the best choices possible given the information available. And information is expensive. I could have chosen to do any number of things out of college, but I don't think I would trade this experience for the world.

Somewhat sincerely,

Nicholas Mason

It's been 1 month since my last post!

Look, I know it's been awhile. I was away on vacation. And frankly, I've just had a lot on my mind recently--wonderful things mind you, but things I don't feel entirely comfortable discussing in an open forum, as I believe she frequents this blog (God knows why). I'll give you an update sometime pretty soon if there ends up being an 'us'. Ha, that looked like 'anus'.

Moreover, I've had to write a letter to both a church back home--which gives money to an organization that pays my insurance costs and the costs of a largely useless orientation program I attended summer before last--and the head church here in Japan, blowing sunshine up both their asses, sunshine which details how God's work is being done over here or something. I don't know, I don't speak Christianese.

I don't mean to convey the feeling that I'm unhappy and have difficulty speaking highly of my time here, I'm just pretty sure that the letters will either fall short their expectations or sound extremely phoney. It's this agenda that keeps me from blogging regularly, although the formermost much more so than the last two.

Look, I'm not going to make any promises here or anything. In the past I've always said something along the lines of "I will rededicate myself to my former blogging excellence" or something, but I don't feel comfortable making such guarantees. Perhaps it's a start, a launching pad. Perhaps. That much I will say.

Oh, and I manipulated the date. It's not actually my anniversary.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

Love, though seen and experienced differently in different parts of the world, is a concept that pervades all of mankind. When we look across the scape of human culture and history, we find a myriad of translations that weave themselves into a colorful tapestry held together by our common experience of this phenomenon and made beautiful by our variety of views on the subject.

In what different ways do you use the word love? Love of family? Love of wife, husband, boyfriend, or girlfriend? Love of friends? Love of God or even country? The Ancient Greeks had several definitions, definitions we find mirrored in many other cultures and religions. Friendship, or the love of friends, was (and in Modern Greek still is) called Philia, a dispassionate and virtuous love that includes loyalty to friends, family, and community. Storge described the affection felt between parents and children, what in Japanese you might call Amae. Xenia was a form of love that might be defined as hospitality, an extremely important practice in Ancient Greece. It was an almost ritualized exchange in which the host would feed and shelter the guest, and though the guest might very well have been a complete stranger, he or she is only expected to repay with gratitude. In this sense, Xenia holds much in common with the Roman concept of Caritas, or the Buddhist and Hindu principle of Karuna, both of which may be translated as charity.

Eros is passionate love, sensuous and longing; it is love of the body, what in Buddhism and Hinduism is known as Kama. Although important and an integral part of any healthy relationship, it was considered one of the baser forms of love, and when experienced alone is invariably short-lived. Thus, Eros was often considered the doorway to a deeper form of love, much like physical attraction to another is our initiation into a relationship. This other form was known as Agape, which is in fact the Modern Greek word for love, though in Ancient Greek it might best be translated as “love of the soul”. It is a pure and ideal form of love that all desire but few experience. It was this Agape love that Paul glorified as the most important virtue in 1 Corinthians, chapter 13: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails.”

This is the love that God feels for mankind, this agape love. He feels it so strongly that he sacrificed his only son so that we might be reunited with him in the end. And this is what the Christmas season is all about: it’s an expression of God’s love for man through the birth of his son Jesus Christ. Never forget this fact; dwell on it, speak it, celebrate it. This winter, let love cascade over your whole body, let it fill your heart and pulse in your very veins; draw in the whole world in an embrace, for God is the source of all love, and he is reflected in every loving thought we have, in every loving word we speak, and in every loving act we do. Amen.

I know I've been out of touch recently, and to all my friends and family, I apologize. To all others, you have no business being here anyway. It's been an extremely busy couple of weeks, in case you hadn't heard. Three weekends ago I took the 3rd-level Japanese proficiency exam, for which I can't really comment on too much now as I don't receive my score back until February. I set my expectations as low as possible here (as in I had none) so as not to disappoint myself, and as such did a very sparse amount of studying and preparation. Perhaps more to the point, this exam really doesn't matter too much, I had little motivation to prepare well; a passing score on the 3rd level means next to nothing on an application or resume. It's the 2nd level that impresses, and it's the second level I'll be shooting for next year.

Then last weekend was the marathon. 3 months of hard preparation, of running in the freezing cold at night, of not being able to go out on the weekends because of training requirements (not that I had that many offers anyway), and I had a pretty lousy time to show for it. Having no history of long distance running, I didn't know how to pace myself, and consequently went out way too slowly. As I was reaching the halfway point (it was an out-and-back, not a loop), one of my students, a 3rd year high school girl, passed me going the other way, shouted my name out, and waved at me. Please God let her be running the half-marathon, I thought. Just to be safe, I sped up. I rounded the corner and turned it up a couple of notches. But the wind was against me, as were kilometers 35-39 (miles 22-24.5, because kilometers mean nothing to me either), and I couldn't make up lost time. I could hardly move for those 4 kilometers, every minute seemed like a lifetime, and I cursed Andrew's name--my friend and training partner who convinced me to do this. Then I finally reached kilometer marker 39 and felt a burst of energy, knowing that I had only 3 kilo left and seeing the stadium (finish line) looming on the horizon. I started flying. And when I entered the stadium, the stands were full, there were spectators cheering for me, and I rounded the final turn of the track in a full-on sprint.

My time was 4:06, her time was a 3:58 (she was running the full), and I was training for a sub 3:30 marathon, but I was still overwhelmed. When I finished my first 20-miler, I did a little Rocky dance and held my hands up high in celebration. When I finished my first marathon, I wept. I was so damned proud.

And now my work is finished. I wrapped up the final bit of it on Friday evening (I was the last one to leave the office!) doing a translation of a letter for a teacher, and I decided I was going to party like I've never partied before. I was in bed by 10:30.

The days are getting shorter and shorter (Winter Solstice is just around the bend), and the weather colder and colder. How is it that the wind can blow simultaneously in all directions? I'm chilled to the bone, and given its disproportinatel size, you can imagine how cold that must make me. I suppose part of it is because every building here is old and has no insulation, and maybe part of it is because I'm too skinny (?). I think I know now what Africans must feel like, except that they get to live in Africa.

And the Cowboys-'Skins game is on now, and there's nobody worth a damn left on Survivor. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm ready to come home.

And my eldest sister, arguably the most photogenic, isn't even among them (though this comes with the hidden bonus that my diminutive and oddly-proportioned brother-not-in-law is absent as well).

Sometimes I wonder why we continue to follow the rules of decency and etiquette even when we are solitary. Like, why do I feel the need to wrap a towel around myself after bathing? Why do I bother matching my clothes? Why did I used to refuse to urinate in the shower? Why, when it would be so much easier to pick up and eat with my hands, am I sitting here trying to eat this piece of fish with a pair of chopsticks?