Its been too long. Part of the point of this journey is to reflect and write MORE. Not less. 

I haven't been able to stop playing facebook. 

For days.

Its not productive, although it is pretty fun and a little satisfying. 

So much has happened. I will try to start with the present and work my way back....

Tonight after work I followed Andrew, my co-worker who is actually from Cincinnatti, to the market. He showed me his second favorite place last week and tonight we had time to make it to his supermarket of choice, Mom. Andrew loves to cook and I am working up the courage to ask him do a time share of sorts or rather food share....If I give you an allowance each week will you cook for me? We live in the same building so its not completely rude, is it?? 

I am just not in the mood to cook these days. . . ever since Hamlet street really. I haven't had the bug. Don't get me wrong, always in the mood to eat, always. Just not in the mood to prepare. Never in the mood to prepare, anything really. I blame this on waiting tables for too long. 

Drinking Kirin whiskey. Smokey and peaty....drinking alone, I blame this on bar tending for too long. Or maybe I should point the finger at my family. When I met a German boy the other day and told him my family was mostly Irish and Italian he rolled his eyes with grief as if to say, 'Sheesh, what a combo.' I've had this reaction before and I can't say I mind it. B likes to say, "That's what I get for trusting an Irish-Italian girl...actually its not the Mick I don't trust, its the Dago." He's proud Irish so we like to fight. I'm just proud. I just like to fight.   Same goes for him, I guess, both. 

Back to the supermarket fiasco.... so Andrew shows me to these places and then I tell him to just leave me. I like to browse and look at everything, take my time, I can't read any labels here so I have to go on context clues based on labels and isle placement and whatnot. Andrew from Cincinnati who is actually from Dayton knows exactly what he wants, where to find it and wants to get it and go. I don't like to keep people waiting so I say just go, Ill find my way. So far here, my sense of direction has been infallible. I feel infallible. Well, tonight I failed. I got completely lost. Totally turned around and mixed up. I blew it.  I was a real mixed up pup. I tried and I tried but eventually after about an hour I knew I was so tangled within the streets of Shizuoka I had to ask for help. I just got a phone over the weekend and I could have called Andrew but I really didn't want to, besides, I don't really have much faith in his directions to tell you the truth....I mean he's the one who tried to tell me how to get home in the first place. So after I knew I was fucked, I pulled my little mountain bike into the first (not really it was about the fifth) Lawson's I saw. Lawson's is like UDF or something comparable and they are all over Japan. My Japanese is shameful and so I beg pathetic in English can someone tell me how to get home. Like a little kid, I have my address written down on a piece of paper and have to point at it like a child, "Where?" "Help please? I'm lost." I must say this is a travel first experience for me. Exciting. People in Japan are too nice. They are all like falling to help. I really do feel guilty about my Japanese. I feel like a hoggy American. Maybe I am. Some of the really old people look at me like I am walking Napalm. Its weird. I am all sunny and sweet and care free and they see in me years of pain and suffering and blame. All I can offer is my smile. I can barely say hello in Japanese. "Sorry for the sins of my people before I was born...." It'd be hard to say this even in English. 

Anyway at the Lawson's there was a guy whose English was decent--ish and he got out this huge map of the city, "Ey Eye Ey...." I do best if you just point me in the general direction don't deal with maps.  Honestly, that's how I get around, just point in the direction. Usually, it works fantastic for me, except tonight. I was far too lost.  They must have known that I was screwed because pretty soon this cute little girl behind the counter made motion to her bike, she was waving her  bike lock key and indicated that she would just show me the way herself. 

I love these people. 

This would never happen in the US it'd just be dangerous and stupid.  So this sweet little girl with the cutest style, sort of motions, 'follow me' and we were off. What an angel. Now I'm having fun again. I only wish I could find my way back to that Lawson's to thank her. She spoke minimal English and along the way we exchanged names, hers was Mari I think. I told her I liked her style, but 'Nike' was the only thing that translated I think. She was cute as hell,  a fresh little outfit with cute leather zip up jacket, the kind that me and Myles love, flossy high top dunks, tight slim fit jeans, a side pony and a sweet round face. She told me I was pretty. I said I thought she was too. I asked her age and she said she was 28. Me too! I said even though I am 27. By the time she got me home I was indebted, I tried to invite her up for a drink...."You like whiskey?" I asked, I had just bought a nice looking bottle at the grocery that she so graciously returned me from. . . "what about beer?"  I think she had to go back to work. Besides the whole sitch was strange. I was just grateful plus maybe a little lonely and looking for cool company even if the language isn't there. I wanted to like shower her with gifts and give her all my American Apparel T-shits or something she might appreciate oor find novel. Brett told me before I left that Japanese people love American Apparel. Brett knows everything, so. I wanted to show her my Nikes. If she had been the same size, she could have had them. What an angel. I enjoyed the ride. 

On Tuesdays I get to leave the school and go off site to teach a lesson at a rural factory called Tomoegawa. I think they produce paper or something paper related there. its actually a really big place and I've come to understand that it employs nearly the whole town.  Its two train stops away and about a twenty minute walk. I love the commute.  I love everything about this lesson. The fact that I get to leave the office for 3 hours to go teach these insanely cute and sweaty country factory boys in the mountains of Japan, that I have to walk across the countryside, that I am all alone with my thoughts....perhaps most of all I love that the Tomoegawa train stop happens to be right on the coast of the Pacific ocean and my lunch break precedes my commute. So for  lunch I take an early train to Mochimune and put my feet in the water on the black sand. I roll my suit pants up as far as they go and try to meditate and pray in the water or to the water. Next week I will bring my lunch and have a picnic, party of one. I love the water and I cant really decide if anything makes me happier.  Water beast here. I love this commute. Everyone at school keeps telling me to wait for the rainy season which is right around the corner to see of I still like the commute. We'll see. As long as I get my rain gear game on I think I ll be fine. Each time is a mini adventure. These boys are really cute although their English is low low level. They are not like my typical students at all. I came here to write, be near water, see Kabuki and stretch my legs and by legs I mean mind. So, so far, so good. My actual legs are aching and my elbow is killing me. My heart misses my family and friends but I don't feel bad (yet) for being here.  I love home, I just didn't love where I was at home. I think anyone who knows me understands this. 

Moving on, yesterday was the one year anniversary of the day we lost Mu. My friends and I. Being away was hard, then again the day was hard regardless. Maybe being away was easier, I don't really know. My loved ones....T's loved ones managed to be together. I watched that man die and I felt so alone yet then again I felt so empowered, like he passed me some of his energy. Or I absorbed it osmosis. If I earned even one shred of Tero's energy then I will be superwoman someday. The man was incredible more than any words I currently have or feel like finding. He was too much and missing him feels like a blessing somehow buried beneath the grief. 

Moving on. 

I am burning out but lets try for a brief recap. In reverse. 

Lost Tero a year ago today. 

Talked to Bran. Not much was said.

Got my first Japanese period, so its starting to feel like I live here. 

Meet a German boy who took me to the cutest bar Ive ever been called Jane Mar which is a combo of the owners' fav actress, Jane Birkin slashed with the word nightmare. Jane Birkin + nightmare = Jane Mare. Here the tender has the best taste in music, better than any bar Ive ever been, so charming and enchanting in there. He keeps a stool open/reserved with a full glass of white wine in the middle of the bar with a framed picture of Vivian Leigh illuminated by a candle. When I asked through my German translator what or rather who that homage was for the bartender who turns out you're supposed to call, 'bar master' said it was for his friend, a woman who committed suicide six years ago and loved Vivian Leigh, so she called herself Vivian. I found one of my friends dead, suicide less than a year ago. Not T, he had cancer and tried with everything he had not to go but someone else, a girl I used to work with... last year was not the best.... So his monument was touching in more ways than one. T's anniversary, that painful memory of suicide, my own love too for Vivian Leigh.  

I will go here again for sure.  Spirit world come to me. 

OK So I'm still a week behind. I will do my best to get caught up. 

Night Vivian.

XOKO