I love Christmas!

It's Christmas time!!! My 4th graders had their special English program this past Friday, which was really great. Proud of those crazy kids. It's been awhile since I've gotten an internet translated English note, so imagine my joy at reading this note I found on my desk about what I should do to prepare for the program:

"Please prepare the preparation thing for the self introduction as shown in the photograph etc.

I hope if there is a thing that it can know Christmas of the home country (photograph etc.). It is excellent on the introduction of an easy song and the dance.

This staff of the school will record the appearance in the photograph, and permit, please when you exchange it.

Please eat the school lunch with the child. Please inform me if there is something that it is not possible to eat for reasons of on the religion and the body."

So difficult to hold in the laughter whilst reading this to myself in the teachers room. Oh Japan, I'll miss you when I'm gone. Here's my "christmas card" for the year. I took the pic in my English room, and yea I made that fireplace :). Oh and please excuse the sloppy handwriting...

Merry Christmas!!

priceless

Japan has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. Last year there were 32,249 suicides. In 2009, from January to September there have been 24,846. It breaks my heart. These are all people that are dearly loved, but they don't know it.

Why? Why do we forget so easily what we knew so well as children? Then, we knew fun as an essential part of everyday life. Then, we knew how to love freely. Then, we knew we were precious. And then, everyone else knew we were precious too. But somewhere between the disappearance of chubby cheeks and the appearance of cheekbones, we forget. Why is that everyone accepts babies as precious things deserving of love, but not adults?

As children, everyone knows it; but then we grow up and become disillusioned. Please, don't forget! I think of my 700+ kids, from my chubby 4 year olds to my grown up 6th graders and I pray they won't forget or become a statistic. We're all priceless. Everyone.

The Identity Question

Living in Japan this past year and a half has been rather difficult for me. There is much that I love here but I must be honest; it's been some of the roughest times of my life. And it all revolves around the identity question I think. I suppose most people go through this sort of thing in their teenage years. But for me, since I have no roots and I've moved so often, I'm nearly constantly going through an identity crisis it seems. I thought I had worked through it a bit by this point, but then I took a test. The test is called the Intercultural Development Inventory and it measures whether you're in the unresolved, in transition, or resolved states of many different kinds of cultural sensitivities. I'll only mention my most interesting result- my encapsulated marginality score. I scored really low, only about half-way through the unresolved stage. An explanation:

"Issues in Encapsulated Marginality indicate that you are struggling with how to integrate your intercultural abilities with your identity. You may be asking yourself, "Now that I can shift my cultural perspective and behavior whenever I want, who am I anyway?" You are probably feeling some alienation from all cultures you know about, including your own. For instance:

• As a traditional-age or returning-adult student, you may have trouble making decisions about what to study, since everything seems equally interesting and important to one of the many careers that you are considering.
• In business situations, you may find yourself feeling separate from your co-workers and unable to identify with either the corporate culture or any of the national/ethnic cultures of which you may be a part."

That's pretty spot on. I've never really fit into any ethnic/national group and I've always known that I can't. I know full well I'll never quite belong on earth. Although it can be quite frustrating, I love my life and I wouldn't change the past. But I must admit, sometimes, hearing stories from those people who never left their own backyard, who knew everyone in their neighborhood, who were never seduced by the call of the jet engine or the allure of a train speeding around the bend...sometimes, I hear their stories and an unexpected pang of envy creeps in. Oh how blissful it must be not to wonder! What elation there must be upon seeing an untrodden path in the forest and not feeling obligated by the very blood in your veins to discover its destination! How marvelous it must feel to hear about mysterious far-off places and yet be content in a cubicle 9 to 5! Ah, but alas; that is not me. It seems I'll remain a wandering gypsy til my dying day.

Here's to Samantha Brown

Don't get me wrong, I admire Samantha Brown. I used to want her job. But the more I watch her show the more I realize she doesn't really see any of the countries she tours. She has the same vacation every time--high class hotels, wine, lounging on the beach or skiing, expensive meals. It doesn't even matter where she is, it seems. Isn't travel more than fancy meals and high-end hotels? Isn't travel more than sight seeing? She and I just have a different style. For me, travel involves a mix of pleasure and pain. I don't just want to see the pretty exterior, the outer and superficial. I want more of the soul of a place. Give me food out of a van on the side of the road. Give me lodging that's less than $40 a night and close to where people actually live. Give me sights that are more ancient than modern, more history-filled than superficial. Give me time spent exploring without a guidebook, time spent with real people, full of sounds, tastes, colors, smells, sights...life. That's the way I do it, and that's why I leave every time with a broken heart that never fully heals. Here's to Samantha Brown, who is somehow able to enjoy herself and keep her heart intact. But I shall continue to travel like Anthony Bourdain who, like me, understands the heartache of travel and yet keeps going back for more.

professional gypsy looking for work...

Well I'm no longer stuck in Bangkok. Vacation was good, but I think I'm going to do most of it again. Thailand, Cambodia, and Malaysia haven't seen the last of me (or so I pray). Now I'm back in Japan with The Question still looming before me, waiting for an answer I'll have to give in the not-so-distant future. What is a gypsy like me supposed to do with her life? White picket fences scare me. The mere thought of an office/desk job is terrifying. Living in one spot for more than 4 1/2 years is nearly incomprehensible. And I'd almost rather do paperwork and make up my bed mom-style for a year than do more schooling. I don't think I'm supposed to stay here for another year but I have no idea what my next move is supposed to be. But then again, aren't things in my life always foggy? I don't think I'm supposed to stay here but I don't feel like I'm supposed to move back to the states just yet either. With my degree basically in miscellaneous though, I don't even know what I'm qualified to do. I do, however, know what I love: 

• photography
• writing
• traveling
• God
• art (modern, ancient, fashion, music, page layouts...I find it all fascinating) 
• people (people are fascinating too, particularly TCKs, ATCKs, ex-pats...)
• natural healing/natural medicine/nutrition 

Perhaps I should go back to school for photography. Perhaps...perhaps a lot of things. I think my dream job would be to work for a travel magazine or some TCK publication, taking pictures and writing for them. Or, maybe just writing for myself. Or maybe I should go back to school to actually become a teacher and work for DODDs or some international school. I don't know. I'm curious to see what God has in store.

Anybody hiring? I can start in April of next year...

Im stuck in Bangkok for the moment, but there are worse fates.

:)

from the past

July 22, 2007

"...we went through the hermitage and stopped so Jennie could tell the story of Nanny Grey for those who hadn't heard it before. And there, in the forest, the stories are real. There, with the trees singing their quiet songs and the sunlight fighting with the shadow, the legends have life and breath and the footsteps of the wood cutter, the blue lady, and Nanny Grey can be heard faintly, if you only listen..."

I miss it so much.