Scribbler's Cafe

Newness

(written Wednesday 9/1)

I am barely present. In this atmosphere of constant newness, my mind is always racing, bracing for the next new challenge – interpreting the washing machine dials, catching the linking train to Osaka, searching out groceries with which I may have a clue what to do with when I get them home. My mind has little time to reflect and contemplate. As there are a multitude of difficult, painful thoughts waiting to be processed, I prefer to distract myself with the idiosyncrasies of Japan. This is a dangerous way to live. It will not last. I am well aware.

Something unexpected – I’ve lost contact with some of my defining characteristics. Surface elements, to be sure, but those that I use to explain myself to others. Back home, I could easily say that I am well-spoken, confident and neatly presented. In Japan, I can barely mange even simple phrases and reply with dumbfounded stares when anyone asks me a question with words larger than what they’d use with a baby. I go to meet the principal in the school, determined to come off as composed and intelligent. Within a minute I have been confused by some custom, I didn’t bow low enough or I didn’t take the business card with both hands, and feel muddled and pitiful. I ask for forgiveness and say that I am still learning and there are smiles and laughter all around – except from me. I loathe to appear a fool. The wife of one of the teachers, Asami - a Japanese woman who went to college in Oregon, invited Koimye and I out to a play class with some of the other women in the neighborhood with young children. I came casual, wearing Teva sandals and no make-up. The other women came in pressed khakis and leather dress shoes, their hair shiny and stiffly styled. Their children were immaculate. Kiomye had a stain on the front of her dress that had miraculously appeared on the short walk down the hallway from our apartment to Asami’s. Her shoes looked dirty and mangled in the line of flawless, brightly colored plastic shoes of the other children.

These are things I can deal with. As time goes by, I will be more comfortable with the language and the customs. But for now, I am knocked a little off center. I long to recover my cool.

posted by Scribbler @ Friday, September 03, 2004