Just a few
months ago, I was considering the possibility of staying on the JET Programme
for the full 5 years. I now think it’s strange I could have ever felt like
staying 5 years, but if I remember correctly, that seed was first planted
during a night out with a few people, one of whom used to be a JET years ago and
whose words of wisdom were basically: stay on JET for as long as you can, it’s
wonderful, I have never been paid as well in the (xx) amount of years since
leaving the program.
So I
thought: maybe I should. Maybe I should stay here for the full 5 years, pay off
as much of my student loan mountain as I can, etc. My student loan mountain is
incredibly huge, and in all reality, not even half of it would be paid off by
the time I left JET after 5 years, but at least close to half of it would be
paid off. And that felt like the responsible thing to do, maybe the right thing
to do.
I try not
to think about my student loan mountain very often, but whenever I do, I don’t
(reference to this). Not really – whenever I do, it
does make me feel pretty stressed out. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like
to not have it always there, looming behind me, or what it would be like to not
have to pay rent like some of the other JETs, and how it would allow me to send
more money back home, but then I remember the very specific things and
experiences for which I am grateful, and those stirring anxieties find a way to
quiet back down.
Anyway, I
thought that staying 5 years would be my responsibility in a way. And in the
meantime, I would gain even more experience, I would do even more traveling – I
would be able to go to the 2016 Setouchi Art Triennale, I would be able to go
on that Southeast Asian motorbike tour, etc. All those things that I could not
really do as easily if I were to leave Japan.
(All those things involved a motorbike, it seems.)
Then, at
some point, I realized (as obvious as it is) that I don’t have to stay in
Sendai, I don’t have to continue being a “Coordinator for International
Relations.” In fact, there had been a growing desire in me to experience a
different side of Japan than the one I know working at the office. (As a side
note here, I will add that, for as much as some people’s souls have been
destroyed by the bureaucratic setting in Japan, or just Japan in general, I
have so far managed to avoid being crushed in a similar way. The kencho, or Prefectural Office, is
actually a fascinating organism in a way – a sort of Wonderland in which
everyone gets rotated every few years and thus learns many different lines of
work. But I think I survive because I stay an outsider.) I started looking into
other job opportunities – freelance translation, interpreting, eikaiwa, etc. I
thought: should I eventually do something diplomatic? Should I work for an
art-related organization? Many things I found were strictly full-time; if they
weren’t, they wouldn’t make enough money to support me and quell the raging student
loan mountain.
Shortly
after all this, maybe the next month, I had a period of time in which my life
flashed before me and I thought I could end up being “Forever Miyagi” – one of
those among our JET community who join lives with a local Japanese specimen and
choose to remain here. That time came when, at the beginning of March, I got a
Japanese “boyfriend,” right after I decisively sank to the bottom about all
things relationship-related in this country that commoditized human interaction
and didn’t seem to approach relationships in the same way I was shaped to
approach them. Acquiring a Japanese boyfriend was definitely not on the agenda
or even the possibility list, but when it happened, I thought, “Hmmm this must
be the guy that fortune teller in Shinjuku told me about at 5 a.m. the morning
of the CIR Conference last year after I got off the night bus, better make it
work,” and so I tried to make it work and marched on bravely into this new
territory of my life.
It was
great for a couple of weeks, and then it just wasn’t. At the same time I met
this magical fellow who was like a rare unicorn to me among Japanese “men,” I
also bought a blue guitar that I named Lulu. In fact, it was the act of
deciding to buy that guitar that, through a series of linked events, led to
that chance meeting. A few months later, Lulu has proved to be a much better
companion and is still with me.
After being
Forever Miyagi didn’t work out for me, I realized that the emotional stress of
dealing with this person had re-oriented me to enter into overdrive within my
own life, to straighten myself out – if he somehow couldn’t make more time for
me than just once or twice a month because he was “busy with work,” well, I
thought I should make myself super busy, too. And I also took some time to
remember all those great things I can do with my life while I don’t have people
(or pet) obligations to worry about.
However,
despite those “great things” and despite my constant gratitude at leading a
relatively safe and comfortable life, sometimes it doesn’t feel like
anything is really worth doing. Sometimes, everything just seems really
pointless. And in a way, if you detach yourself enough from everything, I
really think it is.
I think
that is why I sometimes just feel this incredible need to get away from society
– whether in real life or on the Internet. It becomes too overwhelming, and too
many things seem unnecessary. Something that occurred during the course of my
failure to be Forever Miyagi is my further withdrawal from social networking. The
magical Japanese unicorn did not have Facebook (or maybe just didn’t want to
disclose it), and getting to know someone without a “profile” to refer to was a
little bit scary, but also refreshing.
I used to
post photos of concerts or art exhibitions I went to, but I’ve stopped. It feels
like a bother, it feels like too much, and I would rather not have it be
another thing on the to-do list that ends up tangling my mind. I used to kind
of like editing photos that were meaningful to me and posting them in their
square format glory on Instagram, which then linked to Facebook. But who am I
really posting things for? On the one hand, I liked having a directory of images,
something to document those meaningful moments and experiences. But when it
became a chore, I stopped.
The only
thing I still feel 100% alright with posting online is the art I occasionally
do.
No, I am
not happy with where I am with my art currently. No, I am not spending as much
time on it as I should be. But I am incredibly thankful I have it. I am
thankful that it is an instinct for me to create even when I feel very
depressed. And no, I will not be a professional guitarist or singer, but it
gives me great joy to look up the tabs to songs I like and try to figure them
out without having any prior musical experience. Every day when I leave my
apartment and when I come back, I give my scooter Birdie a kiss or a little pat
(while looking around to make sure no one sees me doing so) and look forward to
the next adventure we have – I say, “Don’t worry, Birdie, we’re going somewhere
this weekend.” (I finally bought my scooter, a Suzuki Birdie 50cc, in April.)
With this
attitude, being the person I am realizing I am, I am not sure where I will end
up. I cannot write timely e-mails, I cannot be dishonest, I cannot pretend to
like what I do not like, I cannot force myself to care about things I do not
care about. I can see the value in and be fascinated by pretty much anything,
but when it comes to what I would like to spend my life doing in terms of work,
a job, a career – I know I have to move on from what I am currently doing. I am
also really tired of the cliché of “being a bridge” between two countries. I
cannot, and do not want to, “be a bridge” between countries.
I don’t
want to think about the commercial application of art, about “my role” in the
world or “the role of the artist” in general, about what has been done already and
what I can do differently, about “the audience,” “the necessity” of whatever I
do, etc. Those are all things that I like studying and exploring, but when it
comes to applying them to myself, I want to throw it all away and just follow
my intuition for a while.
In
making art, I would like to associate with people who are equally as honest, people who are not jealous, people
who do not manipulate for their own gain. I am not a competitive person, and I
don’t think I am an ambitious person. I don’t like comparing myself to others
(though sometimes it happens). I don’t care to climb up “to the top” of
whatever perceivable climbable social thing there is. (I do enjoy mountain
climbing, however.)
I have also
decided to stop creating tentative plans for my future. They used to provide
stability and reassurance and rationalization that whatever I am currently
doing is okay, but after going through many potential scenarios for how I would
like the next few years to play out, I am done. So for now, I still think it
could be a cool experience to move to Osaka and find a tattooing apprenticeship
there (as of several months ago, I actually could not even picture myself
moving to Osaka), and I still think I would like to launch my own line of screen-printed
tights – so I will work to make those things happen. As far as the other
factors in my life are concerned – “whatever happens, happens” and I will do
what feels right at the time.
Creating
art is one of the most basic instincts I consciously have, the only thing that has
genuinely stayed with me for years and years. I don’t want to coordinate, plan,
manage, or promote. I just want to create.
No comments:
Post a Comment