It would seem that my iPhone doesn't like to type here. So, this might only be a weekly blog. I'll try to set aside a specific time to do my writing...

Until then, lemme think!

D

It's a little sad that I can't even remember how to properly begin a post anymore. I mean, I've been gone from this particular blog for nearly 4 years! So let me start with an explanation as to why I've been gone for so long...

Computers. Can't blog without a computer, can you? I mean...I've had three different machines since I've been here, and only one, the one I have, but actually am not using to write this, has actually been portable. Problem is...the time when I'd be able to do my best writing is at work, and the schools banned all outside computers about 3 years ago. And, they don't let me use the school computers unless it is specifically related to lesson plans (also changed long ago). So, I was stuck. So, what am I writing this with? The handy, dandy iPhone! It's my only choice, and I'm gonna roll with it.

Now...as for where this blog is gonna go... I have no idea. I am most definitely not the same person I was 4 years ago. So, it would seem I have lost "my" voice. I gotta write a little everyday to get it back. So, walk with me people, those two of you who even remember this thing, as I fight to reclaim my mastery of the English language!

...Or die tryin'...

D

I'll say this and add more later.

I'm back.

That is all for now.

D

And along came July.

I was reeling from my experiences in June, cursing this country for everything that it was. My Japanese was getting better, but it’s not like I actually wanted to use it with too many people. Fortunately, outside of all the crappiness of my schools…I had a good social network to keep me going.

I doubt I’ve mentioned this before, which is odd, but…since March, I gained two more English conversation classes. These classes are a major source of my income…not to mention a major source of my “good times in Japan”. The first class is on Wednesday evenings, and my students are 5, 60+ year old women, whose English most definitely ain’t all that good, but have some awesome spirit in them. One of them even invites me to her house every week before class for a traditional Japanese dinner, and a chance to teach her three granddaughters English. Two of the three happen to attend Hell, and actually help me out when I’m there.

As for these five women, they’re not even really there to learn English! It’s just a social gathering for them, and a chance to exercise their brains, which is an area in which the Japanese have Americans STOMPED. Well…past generations, at least. Also, the more I teach there…the more I’m beginning to notice these girls are just havin’ a good time flirting with the young, tall English teacher, which is creepy and hilarious at the same time. They’re always asking me about girlfriends and what not. It’s a great time, really. And recently, an old teacher came back to visit, and he and I talked about the whole experience of being an English teacher here, and it seems that, yeah…they just like flirting with the teacher…when it’s a male. And lemme tell ya, using whatever Japanese you can gets compliments that can lift you out of any bad day.

My other class has somewhere between 7 and 12 students, two of which are actually from the Wednesday class. The ages range between 35 and 79. I teach it on Thursdays, at the biggest building in my little town. And through the wall from my little class is the one, the only, Tom! The JET of our city. We make a habit of dropping in on each other’s classes from time to time. And lemme clear something up. I don’t hate Tom, guys. Really. I just play stuff up for comedic reasons on this journal (and sometimes in real life). Besides, the dude came in and apologized about taking my schools, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, so we’re cool. He’s still the person I must defeat in Japanese, though. I like the competition.

Speaking of Japanese, I’m also enjoyin’ my class, which James joined back in June, so he, I and the Turkish guy, Ali, are all gettin’ smarter every week. It’s good times. In the last part of July, Ali and I went to a International Student Conference thing with our Japanese teacher, where we got to hang out with lots of people, but apparently ended up as playthings for the local girl scout squad. Why must children always try to swing from my dreadlocks…really?

In the early part of the month, Matt invited Stephanie and I to a festival in the first town he visited in Japan, Koga. We met all his old friends, Stephanie got to look really good in a yukata (it’s a summer kimono), and me? Well, maybe I drank a lil’ too much. …Oops? Actually, I hadn’t eaten that day, so like…two beers sent me to a very happy place. Unfortunately, because I went to the festival, I couldn’t do a favor for my favorite Japanese family…but they didn’t hate me too much. In fact, they invited me out to a beer garden in the later part of the month!

Now, it’s been said before…and I’ll say it again. I really do love this family. And…maybe they like me, I dunno. I arrived and everyone was there. Tokiko (Mom), Shinichi (Dad), Riyo (The Sister), Sui (The Granddaughter) and Miho (The Daughter). Anyway… It seemed the goal was to see just how much I could drink. This seems to be the goal of all Japanese people, actually. But Miho was actually challenging me this time, claiming that I had said that “Americans can drink a lot more than Japanese people.” I assured her I hadn’t, and also warned her, that if I did anything stupid that evening, it was all her fault. She found that funny.

Later, I was asked to lift Little Sui as high as possible, because she wanted to touch the lights that were hanging from a nearby tree. Actually, I was asked twice. Fortunately, I’m quite found of Lil’ Sui, and she seems to enjoy hanging out with me, so it was fun.

Afterward, Miho, Riyo, Riyo’s husband and I…oh, crap and the music teacher that was at the Christmas get together…dunno if that sounds familiar…well, we all went to karaoke. And had a really good time…I think.

Why “I think”? Alright…first let’s talk about another experience at Hell.

Pool day. The sixth graders were having an awesome time at the pool. I sat by watching, and yet again, was reminded of a certain time in my past. The time when I couldn’t swim…which was for a VERY long time. I’d sit by the pool and watch the other kids enjoying the water, and for the life of me couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much. It looked fun. Id looked like pure enjoyment, but the moment I got in the water, it all changed. I mean, I’d been through every kind of swimming lesson you could imagine. The ol’ “toss him in” technique, which TOTALLY didn’t work on me. Then the “Dad’s gonna swim with you on his back” deal…the actual swimming lessons at the YWCA…weekly practice with my dad…it…none of it worked. Shoot, I STILL don’t like swimming. I can do it, sorta, but no, man. Which made for some no-fun situations at parties and stuff as a kid.

And…as I watched these kids, being taught all sorts of swimming techniques in school…I realized just how weird a kid I was. Like…seriously. The things I did, said…they must’ve weirded my parents out to no end. I know my dad had to deal with the fact that I wasn’t the tough lil’ son he wanted…actually I remember being scared of my dad from those days (which, draws up interesting parallels with my own fear of being feared)…nowadays I wince at how that must’ve felt for him. And then all the conditions and inabilities I had, the fact that I was always sick, the things I’d do and blurt out from the frustration of bein’ so dang off key from every living soul I knew…I’m shocked I didn’t explode back then. The lack of confidence in any and everything about myself… Then I remembered the cynical version of myself that emerged from those inadequacies…and how strong it got in hopes of hiding my past. Then I realized how…the moment I got into college, people latched on to that cynic. Thought he was cool. So, that version of me became prominent, for the sake of keeping it hidden from everyone I knew. A false confidence, and a mysterious loner-ish personality…all of those masks…all to hide the truth of just how awkward I am in this world. All to hide my own self-loathing…

I realized that hated darn near everything about myself. All my accomplishments and endeavors…I’ve never been proud of them. They’ve just been a bit of protection from the real me or something. I realized that…I genuinely think something is wrong with me. That every action I’ve ever taken…I look back on it with shame, as if I could’ve done something better. Choices I’ve made, chances I’ve taken…shoot…every single word that comes out of my mouth, I look back on it…analyze it…find everything wrong with it…and pack the shame away.

Because of this…everything I did at that beer garden with that family…I fear that I screwed something up. I fear that they think I’m as big an idiot as I think I am. This happens with all of my friends, but…if you mean something to me, I feel even more awkward around you, and hate my every move even more. This family…they apparently mean more to me that I can comprehend, and so…even now…though I type this almost three weeks after the fact…I hate everything I did that evening. Despite the fact that Sui enjoyed being lifted so high…despite the fact that Shinichi still boasts about me like I’m his son…despite the fact that I had Miho laughing the whole evening…I still think it’s all a lie. That they have to be thinking that I’m…just a big, stupid—

Ugh…I think we’ve found the next level of my growth here. First it was removing my dislike of the people around me…now I gotta learn not to hate myself so much…and stop swearing that there’s something wrong with me. And for that reason…I’m actually posting this…unedited…

And now you’re caught up to August. I’ll give you a few updates about what’s happened up until the present…including the wonderful process of getting a Japanese driver’s license!

D

One of my friends recently chastised me, saying “You always SAY you’ll catch us up on your blog, but then…you just stop!”

So let’s get this done, right here, right now. But I’m only gonna take you to the end of July, so calm down.

First up, June.

June was a month of discomforts… Reminders of who I was, who I didn’t want to be, and who I most definitely didn’t want people to know I’d been. My schools seemed to be getting on my nerves. I could find almost no redeeming factor in any of them. Not that I hated the kids or anything…there was just nothing that really shined for me. At moments like those, I usually assume that the “honeymoon phase” is over, but it’s been over for a while now.

My days at Hell began to wear on me, as the students either didn’t treat me as a human being, or were absolutely terrified of me. The teachers were quite friendly, but man…it wasn’t enough. The kids just were under no control, and it was really getting to me. I’d try to teach, with no help from the teacher, and things would just go wrong. There were even some golden moments that I can’t remember because of how frustrated I felt all the dern time. Like…uh…the number’s lesson! Yeah, I was teaching the third graders about numbers 1 through 10. I would hold up a card, and they’d say the number. But, I held up the number 3, and said,
“What’s this?”
One kid replied, with perfect timing, “It’s a butt!” The whole class roared with laughter. Now…today, even when thinking about it, that kid and his timing makes me laugh…it’s a moment I’ll never forget, but at the time, I was not in the mood for that, man. Sad, too…because for a third grader…that was comic genius.

There were two moments in Hell that stand out for me in that month. The first was when a second grader was sitting next to me during lunch, and she was looking curiously at my skin. Her eyes said everything; she couldn’t believe such a thing could happen. And when it seemed she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she asked me, gently,

“Why is your skin so dark? Did someone hurt you?”

At first I was a little upset at the question—upset that someone would consider my skin color an affliction, but then I saw her face. She actually looked like…if I told her who had done this to me, she would wait until she grew up, track them down, and bring me their head. It made me smile before I explained things to her.

The second moment was not so cute. A first grader was looking at me with interest and fear. And suddenly, he asked what was on his mind.

“Mr. David, are you human?” and he and his friends ran away laughing.

Now…that question cut me deep. Like…really, really, really deep.

Later that week, I got to hang out with my friend Akira and his new girlfriend, Azuka(?). Matt came along too. We ran around Tokyo a bit, had some dinner…had a grand ol’ time. Afterward, Matt and I went to visit our friend, Canadian Dave, where the two of us realized the beauty of our home state, and just how far we’d come since we’d left. It was a great evening. The next day, Matt and I wandered through Shinjuku Park, and went to a small food shop, where I somehow got the e-mail address of a Chinese girl who worked there. Hey, don’t look at me, man…

That outing left me feeling quite refreshed, and ready to take on the world, but another visit to Hell sure blasted that out of me. Why is that school such a downer for me?

Anyway, soon afterward, I went to “Too Close To Home” school, where I had the pleasure of working with the sixth graders. Now, these kids at this school, I like, because their a playful bunch, and not in that “I’m-a kancho you!” kinda way either. They laugh with you, and actually treat you like a human being. Odd…because I’d argue sixth graders are the complete opposite in America.

I was simply doin’ self-introductions that day, and all was going well. One by one, they’d stand up, I’d say hi, ask the kids their name and what they liked, and we’d move on. Then I came to one girl. This girl, in aaaaall the times I’d come to that school, seemed quite alright. She never said much, but she always seemed excited if she saw me in the halls. But today…something was odd. I could see it on her face. I figured she was nervous, so…I did a bit of a goofy walk over to her, which made the class laugh, and I said in a very bright, friendly voice, “Hello!” Next thing I knew…she was backing away, and her face had gone pale. She was trembling. I saw she was freaking out a bit so I stepped WAAAAAY back. But it was too late…tears began streaming down her face. The poor girl was terrified.

Now, I don’t know if you all know this about me, but…I don’t like being feared. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long while, believe it or not. Someone being afraid of me is something that slices through to my soul…triggers a lot of emotion in me. Brings back a lot of bad memories. Combine that with the fact that tears from any female pretty much render me powerless, well…I was distraught, to say the least.

One of the kids jokingly said, “Oooooh, David! Look what you did!” Understandable reaction…I probably would’ve made the same joke.
The teacher asked, “What’s wrong?”
The girl replied, “He’s scary…”

The words seemed to hammer another nail into my heart. But then the kids started laughing at her, saying, “What the crap is wrong with you? It’s DAVID! He’s not scary!” But the poor girl couldn’t contain herself. She just kept trembling as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was at that moment, my pain was replaced by sympathy…and I actually began to defend the poor kid, telling the class to leave her alone…and in that moment, she calmed down. Later on, she stood up again, and finished her self-introduction, tear-free. But that had done it for me…

I went back to the teachers’ room and sat at my desk, and immediately e-mailed Matt about it, trying to scoop off some of the guilt and shame. I just wasn’t ready for that…not that day.

But it wasn’t over. Later, after lunch, I watched the kids on the playground from the safety of the teachers’ room, waving at some of the kids who noticed me. They responded enthusiastically, which made me feel a little better, but I’d still made that girl cry…just by being me. Then I saw him. The little Pakistani boy who went to that school. The little boy who I’d let beat me in arm wrestling so he could have a moment of glory. The little boy whose brother and sister I taught at my junior high school. He was wandering around the playground by himself, looking for someone to play with, but every time he met a group of people, they would disperse, running from him. Some girls screamed “Get away!” Some boys just looked at him with disgust. I felt my heart shudder for a moment, as I was reminded of a part of my past that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Same situation…playgrounds…people running from me…because I was different. Because they thought I was dangerous, or that…something was wrong with me, I don’t know…but it never…apparently that wound never healed. A while ago, I mentioned that Japan had the power to heal old wounds, but it also has the power to rip them wide open. I suddenly found myself furious at every child on that playground. I found myself wanting to hurt someone…someone I couldn’t identify…I wanted to lash out somewhere…anywhere…. …And then I saw the Pakistani boy playing with some of the kids on the rope bridge. My mind calmed down, but my heart was racing. My eyes were burning from the tears that had almost appeared…

“Debitto-sensei?” said one of the teachers.
“I…y…huh?” I replied, turning around to see three teachers sitting at the small conference table.
“Can…we have a meeting for next time?”
“…Sure. Sure. …Yeah…”

For a while after that, I was keenly aware of fearful eyes and recoiling Japanese people as I wandered the countryside. Yes…a lot of old feelings were coming back. The ones that have held me back for decades…and if I didn’t find some way to beat this…I was going to see a repeat of some very bad times.

…Next up…July.

D

Ah, the merry month of May… Whoever came up with that line was a total liar. For me, May was the month of misanthropy…mostly because the absolute stupidity of my schedule was revealed. Remember how I said I meet each class of my junior high school only once a week? Now…imagine what happens when the school board says I’ll be working at elementary schools twice a week from here on out. That’s right. Some students never see me for weeks at a time. Or ever. Take this excerpt from a conversation with Slick Sensei.

“So, David…how many classes do you have today?”
“One.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Won’t be here.”
“Wait…didn’t you miss those classes last week too?”
“Yep.”
“Let me look at your schedule.”
“By all means.”
“…@%#$!”
“Yeah…my thoughts exactly.”

Slick Sensei and I agree…the school board must hate junior high kids, and absolutely love the little demons of elementary schools. On that note, let’s introduce the schools of the years.

1. The School of Busted Walks. Ya’ll remember this place? Yeah. My favorite elementary school. They let me keep it. I’m so happy. But, Mr. Sick Teacher doesn’t work there anymore! That means, I’m completely separated from the Sick Teacher family! Y’all don’t know how much that hurt me, but it did. But I still have two buddies there. Tomoko (a teacher who invited me to dinner with her and her husband) and a new teacher, Ms. Kawashima. She’s my age, and I believe was brought in to replace Mr. Sick Teacher. But the three of us have our desks together, so we pretty much crack jokes all day. The kids are still total sweethearts there, and…this place is still my favorite school.

2. Littlest School. This place is new…waaaaay up north in my town. All the teachers there are old women who don’t really speak Japanese, but absolutely love me for some reason. The children at this school, and all the schools, swear I look like Ronaldihno…or however you spell his name. Soccer player, Brazil. Whatever. I’ve made it my mission everyday I’m there to try to bring the entire place down with my voice. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE” becomes a diaphragm exercise. Actually, I do this at all schools. It’s really strengthened my voice…though now I REALLY have no volume control. Anyway…this place is okay.

3. Too Close to Home. This school is my neighborhood school, and the kids that go there live very close to me. They’ve seen me walking around before. This cannot end well. But, the vice principal at this school is a cool guy. The teachers are great people, and…yeah, it’s all good. But, man…this school has more foreigners than I’m accustomed to. Like a little Pakistani boy, and a Fili—oh. Oh, okay, now THIS messed with me for a while. I was in the teachers’ room, talking to all the teachers and stuff when I saw someone. ‘Hey,’ I thought, ‘a Filipino teacher! A rather attractive Filipino teacher! I wonder if she’s an English teacher?’ Then, as two sixth grade girls ran up to her, and they all went giggling off to class, the horrible truth hit me. ‘She’s…twelve years old…at most. Well, now I’m going to hell.” I swear, man…she does NOT look twelve. That girl is totally out of place here…and yet, my place in hell has been decided. How do I know?

4. Hell. This is the worst school of the bunch. A school of loudmouthed, kancho-crazy, in-strong-need-of-a-backhand children. This is the home of the hecklers…the kids who constantly try to disrupt your flow in class. The kids who never stay in their chairs. The kids who, for some reason, already have rotting teeth. Kids with snot permanently encrusted around their nostrils. Kids who forget that I am, in fact, a human being…and actually ask questions that start to chip away at your tolerance for ignorance. Also the home of the violently retarded children. And you may think I’m trying to be funny with that one, but I’m dead serious. Violently retarded. This school has its good kids, and its horrible ones, but the horrible kids run the place. The teachers don’t even try to discipline the kids here, insisting that it’s cute. And honestly, on my third visit, I almost snapped. The teachers are good people, but man…

The sad part is…schools one and two, my favorite schools, I go to only once a month. School 3? 3 times. And Hell? EVERY WEEK. Now you know why I wasn’t too happy with the world this month.

But things got a bit worse. Now, way back in November, I noticed that the adapter on my laptop was kinda…acting up. It’d work if it was held in the right position, but…sometimes that position would change and stuff. But, as any Williams can, I learned to work around the malfunction, because I had neither the time nor the means to get a new one shipped here. Eventually, the problem left my mind…until the thing died on me in the second week of May, due to a broken wire inside the cord. Or was it April? …Anyway, Matt and I decided to make an excursion to Akihabara, the electronics district, hoping to repair our respective adapters (his had worn through as well).

Matt’s attempt ended in a bust. Either that, or he just didn’t wanna spend that much money on a new adapter from Dell. As for me, well…my (Jen’s) laptop is a bit old in computer terms, so the Dell shop didn’t sell that type of adapter anymore. What this meant was that I was gonna have to go scrounging through all the spare parts shops in Akihabara. And when you realize how many of those there are, you find that this is NO easy task. But I had my trusty Matt with me, so…off we went, asking questions in English and busted Japanese.

Eventually, we were on the trail of my adapter. Various shop owners were pointing us in the same direction, a place called QCD or something like that. They all seemed quite certain that this shop would have my adapter, and man…I was getting excited. Things might actually work out!

This is the time where I need to remind you guys of something I may have mentioned before. I’ve never named this phenomenon, but let’s try right now. Williams…Electronics Incompatilibility….and Return/Repair Disorder. WEIRRD. Perfect. So, this phenomenon is pretty simple. Any and every time the Williams family tries to make a major electronic purchase or repair, something…something goes wrong. Example: Super Nintendo. Somehow was incompatible with an old school Zenith TV. We had to send the brand new game system to some random fix-it-dude, where he installed a chip that would make the thing work properly. Totally ruined Christmas. Our first VCR was purchased AFTER the Nintendo. Literally burned out the moment I turned it on. A new big screen TV and refrigerator? Too big to get them to their respective rooms. New computer? The monitor was cracked. The list goes on. We always figure out a way around it, but these things have NEVER gone smoothly for us. Something always has to be sent back or fixed.

So, as we walked into QCD, I forgot about WEIRRD. I thought everything was gonna be awesome. In fact, it was! I found the adapter! It was a Dell! It was older! It was the wrong voltage! And even though the head of the adaptor looked almost exactly the same…there was a slight difference that could prove to be difficult. A simple chamfering of the corners. That’s all. And it was this slight difference that got Matt thinking.

If you don’t know Matt, he’s the kind of guy who has enough confidence to make everyone think they can do anything. Sometimes, I’ve had to channel his way of thinking when times get tough. In this moment, Matt decided it was time to do the impossible. We were gonna make this adapter work.

Minutes later, I was buying the adapter, and rushing from shop to shop to buy wire cutters, heat seals for exposed wires and electric tape.

“The crap are we doing, man?” I asked Matt, as he strode confidently to the next shop.
“You’re gonna splice those together. You only need the head of the new adapter, and the body of the old one. All you gotta do is clip both of them, pull the insulation and shrouding back a bit, splice them together, seal it up with the heat wraps, tape it up, and call it a day. You got a soldering iron, right?”
“No.”
“No prob. You’ll dry splice it. Then shave the edges of the head down so it’ll fit in your computer.”

See? He talks about it like it’s nothing for someone who’s never done that before. Thing is, I figured he was gonna help me on this one…but I was wrong.

“Dave…I gotta go meet someone else today. So, you gotta do this yourself.”
“Wh—“
“Dude, I thought you knew I was going somewhere!”
“You might’ve said it, but you say a lot!”
“…Well, anyway,” he handed me the clipped and stripped adapter pieces. “You can do this. Just keep that upright and untangled, and do what I told you.”
“Y—“
“You can do this, Dave.”
“I hate you.”
“Later!”

Okay, so it wasn’t QUITE like that, but it was close. So there I was, riding home on the train, trying to figure out how all this had happened. And trying to figure out how Matt manages to do stuff like this to me EVERY time. But, I break almost everything he owns, so…it’s the balance in our relationship.

I got home, and set myself to work, following everything I’d learned from the other David back at FullSail, and merging it with the crash course Matt gave me. Finally, I wrapped it all up in electric tape, plugged it in, and prayed my computer wouldn’t explode…and lo and behold…it worked! All was well, and I had no reason to kill Matt.

But it wasn’t over.

I was sitting at my computer two weeks later, preparing a worksheet for my high school students. …Oh, right! My high school kids!

Okay, so, twice a month on Saturdays, I teach at a high school in Mito. Thing is, these are the super smart kids. They catch on fast, and WANT to learn, which really helps balance the stupidity of the schools I teach during the week. They’re good kids, too. So, I’m very happy to go there, even on a Saturday morning.

So, I was making stuff for them, when my phone rang. I got up, answered, and turned around to see my laptop screen go white. All white. Then, the computer sang a cute little song. Then it went black. Then, I smelled the wonderful smell of burnt electronics. Now, this is not where I’m gonna think about whether or not my ghetto-rigged adapter had anything to do with the burning of my laptop video card. This is where I continue the story.

So, I sighed, knowing my computer was gone, but wasn’t all that worried. You see, in April, my mother actually shipped my tower over from the States, AND even earlier, Matt had given me a free flat panel monitor some dude didn’t need anymore. I’d tried turning on the tower a while back, but it did the something-very-small-and-hard-to-find-is-wrong-with-me beep, so I set it aside for a time when I’d be able to focus on it. I knew the computer had probably just gotten a bit jostled on the way over, so…no big deal. Besides, part of me hoped the laptop would just start working the next day. I mean…maybe it’s just me, but for some reason, my brain thinks electronics have some ability to heal over night. It knows that’s impossible, but…come on. Why not?

Next day proved my irrational thinking to be just that. I went to school, hoping to come home and get my tower working again quickly. But, again, WEIRRD stepped in. I took my computer apart (sorta) and put it back together…nothing. And from there I didn’t really know what else to do. I had neglected to ask my mother to send the user manuals for my motherboard (genius) so I couldn’t tell what the diagnostic readout was telling me. I was stuck. I was going to have to ask someone for help…and there was only one poor soul I could think of…and I really didn’t wanna bother him. But…

So James knows computers pretty well. He’s also willing to help people…usually. This was a wonderful combination that resulted in me bringing my computer to him the next day. So, there we sat, in his apartment, taking the computer apart again, and cleaning off the carpet of dust that had accumulated inside the poor machine in over a year. We laughed about dork jokes and the like for a while as we repaired mistakes from the original assembly, and put the computer back together. We chuckled as we reconnected the wires, and crossed our fingers as we pushed the power button. Then, I cursed as the same frickin’ beep went off.

“Oh, come on!” I said, almost punching the machine.
“Hmm…” said James. “Maybe it’s your power supply. But I can’t be sure unless I know what your motherboard is telling us.”

My motherboard has two little LEDs on it that give you a code for good or bad things. Had I the user manuals, we would’ve figured it out quickly. I had not the user manuals. So, we consulted the internet. Eventually, we found it, but the message didn’t really make sense. I can’t even really remember what it was.

“Okay,” said James. “I’m guessing from this that…it’s either your power supply…or the whole freaking motherboard and processor.”
“…So…I gotta buy a new power supply or motherboard?”
“Looks like it.”
“Power supply.”
“Good choice.”

Off we flew to the electronics store, which, I just wanna point out, has this awesome thing where…you can buy computer PARTS, and not whole computers. That means, if you want to build a machine, you can go to a real store, and not deal with online hassles or go to your “friend who knows a guy who really likes computers, but happens to look and act like a drug dealer/child molestor”.

We got back, disconnected the old supply and reconnected the new. And again, we pushed the button. Again, the beep. Again, I cursed.

“What IS this?!”
“Hmm…,” said James. “I wonder…”

Suddenly, James was removing the heat sink from the motherboard. Underneath, we found the processor, just slightly jostled out of place, meaning some idiot in the delivery system didn’t know what “fruh-jee-lay” means. I slapped my forehead as James put the computer back together, turned it on, and…all was well.

Needless to say, I owed the guy one, and I intended to pay him back, by finding a proper Japanese class for both of us.

Since May 11th, I’d been going to a Japanese class in a city west of here, called Oyama. Good city. Good class, but the teacher was movin’ a bit slow, so, before I brought James in on the action, I need to get this guy up to speed. Besides, the other guy in the class, a Turkish dude named Ali, is better than I am at Japanese. And James, well…he knows more than I do. I’ve just got the advantage of more speaking practice. So, I gotta get the teacher moving. I see a lot of promise in the class, though.

Outside of that, I saw Spiderman 3 with Yuka and James. I dunno what to say about that movie. Some days I’m cool with it. Other days, I wonder if I saw the right movie. I just…I don’t know what the heck that was, man. Really. And I saw Pirates 3 with Kyoko. That was enjoyable, but strange as well. I did find it funny that Kyoko and I were the only ones laughing that the hilarious anti-piracy commercials they have. If I can find those somewhere, I gotta post them.

Anyway…that’s May. Next up! June! The month of reflection, racism, regrets and…r…obots?

D

Whatever the reason may be, I’ve apparently gathered a few fans of my writing…though I think they might have me confused with a certain other black dude in Japan. Anyway, I was recently informed of the fact that those fans are wonderin’ what the heck I’m doin’. Truth be told, not much, besides teaching and studying…but let’s review. We’ll do this in months to get y’all caught up nice and quick.

First off….APRIL!!! (Note to reader…these will be written as if the other months have yet to happen.)

Aaight, so…I started the new year at my new junior high school, which, to be honest, left much to be desired. This isn’t to say that my new school is bad…it’s just that I was pretty happy back at North Junior High. Now, I’m chillin’ in the West school, closer to my apartment, and far less busy than before. You see…this school figures I should meet each class only once a week. That’s twelve classes. Every week. I work for 12 hours. Every week. Do the math, okay? What do I do with the rest of my time? Why, I think of humorous nicknames for everyone on the staff! Roll call time.

There are three English teachers. The Dude. The Short One. The Tall One.

The Dude – This guy’s cool. His English is really good too. In his classes, I’m pretty much just a parrot, but he definitely knows how to control his classroom and keep the kids excited. And trust me…any dude that can control and keep the attention of a bunch of first years…deserves some respect. He talks to me the most, in both English and Japanese…and we exchange knowing glances when the school lunch just ain’t up to par. I think he and I will get along just fine.

The Short One – Okay, this little lady’s hilarious for some reason. I think she’s just a little older than me, but a whole heckuvalot shorter. And, oddly enough, I can’t help but watch her. She’s like…an animator’s case study or something. Seriously, every movement is…well, she’s just so small that watching her move it…I can’t explain it! I don’t think my brain can understand how someone my age can be that small. And she’s one of those folks with an undeniable baby face, and quite possibly the shiniest eyes I’ve ever seen. Because of this, I have another nickname for her—Stitch. And few people can deny Stitch’s cuteness. But see…that nickname ain’t all good. She suffers from JBG syndrome. Japanese Busted Grill Syndrome. This is not a blemish on her personality at all…in fact it makes me sad that Japanese dentists ain’t up to speed to help this girl out. And they tried…I can tell. But it’s like they tried without caring about the finished product…color coordination or anything. If I meet her dentist, I will punch him.

The Tall One – Now this girl apparently is a month or two younger than me, but has some height on her side…meaning she’s like 5’7” probably. But in my mind, she’s 5’11”. She’s cool, and speaks English in a way that doesn’t sound like a Japanese accent or anything… It’s weird. She’s in charge of all the second years, and her classes seem to LOVE me. They cheer when I walk in. And The Tall One seems quite relieved to have me around.

The rest of the staff…only a few get names, as most people there don’t talk to me yet.

Slick Sensei – Oh, I love this dude. He was an English teacher back at South Junior High, but they brought him here to watch out for the new teachers, such as The Short One. Mrs. Sick Teacher told me I’d be working with him, and that he was a VERY respectable teacher, so I was expecting to have to learn some serious polite Japanese, but…nope! This guy’s hilarious. He sits right next to me, and talks to me in English all day, giving me inside info on teachers, classes, students and Japanese life. He knows I’m studying Japanese and has offered to teach me for one hour every Monday. Truth is…he teaches me ALL day. We joke about how I’m being paid to study Japanese, too. And he’s always saying things like, “Okay David…it’s break time. There’s a convenience store on the corner. We’ve got three more hours of the day, and nothing to do. I say….you go to the store, grab some beers, and we go in the courtyard and gulp them down as fast as we can.” “What about the principal?” I ask. “…Fine, get him some beers too!” Like I said…love this dude.

Mrs. Buxley – I call this woman this because of the character from the old Beetle Bailey comics…a secretary to everyone in the office, and how I learned to understand what the word “buxom” meant. Now…this girl’s built differently than the Japanese women, meaning she’s actually got curves, but…I’m honestly unsure as to whether or not she’d be considered fat over here. Somethin’ tells me she is… But, hey, she tries to speak what little English she knows with me, so we’re cool.

Big Man – Aaight…this dude’s got good qualities and bad ones. Good: He’s always laughing and smiling. He’s been kind enough to try to help me with the crazy coffee machine they got here, and he’s given me Dole Popsicles. Bad: …okay, this requires some backstory. One sentence actually. In Japan, dudes can break out and pee anywhere they want, any time, no harassment from cops. This has resulted in a really weird view of peein’ by some Japanese dudes. One that reminds me of the rules of my father… So, sometimes I’ll be in the restroom after drinking my usual 3 liters of water a day. Big Man comes in, checks his hair or something, and leaves, BUT leaves the door WIDE open. People, there are teenage girls walking around in that school…and I don’t care in the urinals have the little dividers between them (which barely protect me, considering my height)…I’m trying NOT to get fired ya know? Everyone else closes the door…not Big Man. Heck, when he’s in there, he leaves the door wide open too! He and gotta reach some accord on this… The other bad thing is that…well, he can’t help this, but…his voice. It’s almost like…the Japanese Louie Anderson. That’s not his fault! I’m just sayin’…I noticed one of the third years at my last school talking like that, all nasally and what not, and I realized I’d heard it elsewhere too. It’s…an acceptable way of speaking in this country. But, man…it cuts me to the CORE. Me and Big Man…we got some issues to work out, but we’ll be okay.

The Big Girls – I call them this because…they’re the heaviest ones on staff, but are sweethearts. They talk to me everyday…all in Japanese of course…and always give me little snacks and treats throughout the day. They’re always laughing and joking. I love these two, and they’re my real test in Japanese…because they really don’t try to speak any English, but ask me things about English…which I have to explain in Japanese. Totally…not…easy.

There are others, but they’ll get names later. For now, just know that my first three weeks were spent only at this school, and…my job really isn’t a job. I just study all day and get compliments from everyone about how fast my Japanese is improving.

…I still miss the kids from my old school, though. Maybe I’ll get to visit them one day…

I’ll tell y’all about May next time.

D

Okay, people…I know it’s been a while, and—okay, I say that all the time. Here’s how we’re gonna play it. It’s a new school year. That means new contract, new school, new plans, new way of wearing my hair…whole lotta newness. That said, we must acknowledge the fact that there are a lot of stories I’m gonna have to skip. I am not going back and fillin’ you in on the last whatever amount of days it’s been because…well, that’s in the past, and you don’t need to worry about it. Plus I’d experienced yet another phase of “the twenties” that I refuse to write about.

Anyway, let’s cover the recent stuff, k? Sister, Megan, came to Japan. I was terrified that something might go wrong, i.e., her meeting my Japanese family and hating them. Lucky for me, that ain’t happen. But what DID happen was what I expected. She hated Tokyo. I mean, I’ll tell y’all right now that Tokyo sucks. A lot. Like…it’s the worst place in Japan, much like I consider NYC to be quite possibly the worst place in America. Some people like big cities. We don’t. Some people think metropolitan areas are where you go to find the culture of a nation. We don’t. Some people have to ability to handle crowded places and loud people without feeling totally drained afterward. We…don’t. You gettin’ the picture here? Tokyo is the big ol’ city where all the foreigners and Japanese people go because they think more people = more culture. Eff…that…noise.

Meanwhile, my sister liked my lil’ “farmtown”, and agrees…there’s an eerie Florida-ishness to this place. And it’s…stealthy. Sneaks up on ya in weird places, smells, and flavors.

I do need to apologize to my sister’s friend, Trudy, who was quite miserable during certain parts of the trip. I intended to warn her about the oncoming truth: the focus was going to be on my sister, because she is MY sister, and the people here really want to know about things connected to me. So, poor Trudy got pushed to the wayside, much to my dismay. I tried to balance things as best as I can, but, ya know…yeah. So, sorry, Trudy. Didn’t get to warn ya ‘bout that one. Tell you what…you no longer owe me a camera for that “swole” comment on my MySpace, k? I think we’re even now.

Anyway, Megan and Trudy got to meet some of my best Japanese friends, including a restaurant owner named Hideki, a cool digital artist named Akira, and my Japanese family, who once again came through with the food. Crab and some really good rice and…man. I wish we could’ve stayed longer, but the poor girls were dying. And I sorta narrowly escaped too long a meeting between my sister and The Daughter. Though, I wasn’t even worried about that. I kinda wish they had gotten to talk longer. Shoot, she barely eve—no, she didn’t even speak any English! Must’ve been tired. But apparently, she was impressed by how much Japanese I’d picked up. Whatever. The funniest part is that The Daughter’s cousin, a dude named Yudai, seemed absolutely entranced by the two women I brought with me. But, ya know…the whole time I was very happy. In that room were some of the people I apparently value the most, which…makes no sense in some cases because I barely know them! But everyone was talking and laughing, and…I dunno, it just made me feel very…warm. Usually, when I try to bring two of my many worlds together, all we get is chaos and awkwardness, or a big ol’ testosterone contest (Matt…Scott), but this time it all gelled. Even Trudy began to feel better it seemed, and The Father was havin’ a good ol’ time trying to pronounce her name. I do hope we get to repeat that dinner sometime. Maybe my mother or father will be there as well next time, if I can trick them into coming here.

In other news, all the old ALTs done gone and left. That means Will, Andrew and Scott, whose real names are Billy, Aaron and Sean are aaaaaaall gone. I’m the last one…which hit me after we dropped Billy off at the airport. But, now, James is here. James is a friend from way back, thoroughly tied into the Nina debacle, and fully equipped with a crazy Mel story of his own! (Blasted monks) James and I are now the Twin Towers of Chikusei City. I’ve got him beat by a centimeter or two, but remember, I’m freakishly tall. One or two centimeters does not diminish James’ towerocity by one bit. I know the kids will love him.

Back in FL, my friend Matt Pena has begun working at FullSail, in my old position! I’m very happy about this. That is an awesome place to work, and there isn’t a day that I’m here that I don’t wish I could still be there, goofing off with the friends I made while I was there. I know they said I always have a job upon my return, but I always feel guilty for leaving in the first place, and worse for every moment I decide to stay longer. C’est la vie.

Let’s talk about the future now. I’m starting at a new school. I’ve no clue what to expect. Could be fun, could be horrible. Whatever. Either way, I’ll roll with it, and come out on top. I’ll also be teaching three eikaiwas, teaching at a high school on Saturday mornings, and doing a language exchange with a friend of mine. I’m studying Japanese with more fervor than ever before. And now that James is here, I have someone who won’t let me make the excuse of, “Well, they don’t speak any Japanese and seem to get along JUST fine.” On top of that, in some weird stroke of luck, James and I went to a meeting with the school board, and ended up with gym memberships. Yeah, you heard that cracking sound, right? That was your sense of logic…snapping in two. This is where I’m supposed to repair it, but…nah. Just let it be known that you’re gonna see a repeat of last year. We are officially in…Week One. I will exercise like a madman until my birthday. That’s six months from now. This exercise will be accompanied by extensive Japanese study, hopefully resulting in something around Level 2 Proficiency in the language. I’d aim for Level 1, but…I like breathing. Level 1 will be reserved for next year. Trust me…Level 2 is enough of a challenge. But I’m doin’ okay. Huge holes remain in my current knowledge, and I need to go back and patch them up, and vocabulary will ALWAYS be my weak point…which tells me what I must do to truly grow. Wish me luck again, folks. And don’t worry, I’m not talking about yet another six months of chicken and spinach…gawd. But I’ll probably end up really REALLY hating tofu after all this is over. Good thing it ain’t got no flavor!

I’m looking at the next year with a lot of excitement. Despite my daunting schedule, I feel no real pressure…ya know, other than the fact that my friends will never see me. They’ll tough it out though, right? Right! Remember friends, Sunday is the day. You wanna hang with me? Sunday. That’s my day of rest and relaxation. Or you can come to the gym with me. Thems your choices. I’m here to grow, and I’ve found my means. Let me do my thing.

D

Nov. 30^th

Here I am, back in the swing of things. Right now, I’m sitting at my desk at the elementary school known as “Kancho Central”, trying my best to stay awake. For a time there, this school lost its title of Kancho Central, but…well, I’ll tell you a story that I neglected to include in my recent barrage of entries.

In Japan, they always keep their children moving, mostly because if they don’t burn off all the energy that they have, they’ll go nuclear and explode. So, they dedicate 20 minutes a day to something called…Run Time. That’s right. These kids run in a circle for 20 minutes. And they get crazy excited about it.

“Oi, Hideki-kun!”

“Aa…Tetsuo! Nani?”

“Hashirou!”

“Honto ni?”

“N!”

“Yokatta!”

TRANSLATION

“Hey, Hideki!”

“What is it, Tetsuo?”

“We’s finta run!”

“For real?”

“Yay-uh!”

“Oh snap!”

Oh, they’ve got P.E., and after school sports, but they STILL have this 20 minutes of running.

So, last week, I was chillin’ in the teacher’s room, when one of the teachers comes up and uses the only sentence form everyone in Japan knows. “Let’s _________.”

“Deibitto-sensei! Let’s running!”

I sputtered, knowing that I’ve been a long time hater of running for recreation. Sports? Cool. Running in circles? Dumbz. “Ahh…uhh…samusugiruyo.” (Uhh…dude, it’s too cold.)

He laughed and walked away. But then the vice-principal shows up with a cup of coffee for me. Now…she must’ve spiked that stuff with stupid-juice and cold-stompers, because suddenly, my brain said, “Forget this noise…I wanna run!”

I don’t remember what happened after that. All I know is that I found myself outside with the kids, in my heavy jacket, shirt and tie, tying up my Timberlands as I knelt on the ground with children hopping in circles around me. As I tied the final knot, I focused ahead of me—a clear path for a good 100 meters. I flung my arms out to my sides, all dramatic-like, and the kids froze.

“3…2…1…” I took off. Slow at first, goofing off and showing off my stride, but then I noticed that the fastest kids considered this a race!

“Ha!” said my brain. “Watch this…” My body was not ready for what my brain was about to do. I swear, I hovered for a moment in mid air. I looked around, and noticed that the kids still thought they were keeping up with me. But then my right foot touched the ground. I barely felt the gravel beneath my feet before I shot ahead like a rocket. I heard gasps as I began weaving in and out of crowds, never breaking stride or losing speed. I’d never moved this fast in my life.

“We can still go faster!” said my brain. And before I knew it, my speed had increased. I honestly couldn’t feel my body anymore. I could only push this for another 10 meters or so, though, because a densely packed crowd of kids was ahead of me. So, I skidded to a stop, generating quite a cloud of dust. I looked behind me and saw the kids just catching up to me, mimicking my sliding stop.

“Hayai!”

Deibitto-sensei wa sugoi!

“Ha!” said my brain. “How ya like me n—AAGH!” Suddenly my lungs caught on fire and started closing up. My legs were screaming. “The heck did you do that for, man?! Now we can barely walk, and we can’t breathe.” But, I faked like I was okay, and kept walking like nothing was wrong.

This is when things got bad.

I think the kids smelled my vulnerability, because after one kid tried for a kancho, and missed, I suddenly saw 10 kids with their hands in kancho formation. Barely able to breathe, I prepared myself for battle by taking a low, wide stance, one arm in front, one in back, making it more difficult for them to get me. One rushed forward from my rear left. I spun around, grabbed his hand and used his momentum to sending him flying past me. Then, two more attacked, from front and back. I turned to the side, and palmed both of their heads with either hand, stopping them short. But before I could do anything about them, three more rushed in, all aiming for a kancho. Fortunately, two of those kids attacked the two I’d just stopped, and got them with rather forceful kanchos. If I’d been on the receiving end of one of those…yikes. Three more decided to join the fight, but I used the third kid from the previous wave of children to block them. And this is when #10 saw his chance. He sneaked around to my blind spot and stabbed inward. Had he not done a battlecry, I never would have caught him. I barely had time to grasp his hands, but the other nine had recovered and began moving in. Without even thinking, I began to spin, with #10 still locked in my grip. Before I knew it, the kid was almost parallel to the ground from my whirling, and the other nine were stepping back. I slowed down, released #10, but made sure to add a twirl to his landing so he went spinning off into the distance. This…was possibly my worst mistake. They now knew that if they got close enough to kanchoing me, it meant they had a chance of being whirled around like #10. And they love being whirled around.

The nine resumed the kancho stance.

“Screw it all, man. RUN!” said my brain.

“Yo, you burned us out last time!” said my legs.

“Fine,” said my brain. “You wanna feel that pain after I send the sensation back to you, go for it.”

“…DANG IT!” screamed my legs, as I suddenly shot off toward the school. Toward safety. The nine followed, and so did about 50 other kids. Some suddenly brandishing kancho hands, some thinking it was a race. There I was, sprinting with urgency toward the school, ignoring the fact that my asthma was KILLING me. I’d made it halfway, and heard the bell ring, which called everyone’s attention to me. Suddenly, nearly every child was racing for the school. In this confusion, there was no way I’d make it safely. I couldn’t. I couldn’t run anymore. I was gonna have to fight again. I was…at the stairs. Without a second thought, I sat down, blocking all potential target areas, and the kids just ran past me, some admitting defeat, others not even caring. I laughed, and barely noticed that a few kids had gathered around me for a picture. I smiled for the camera, and grumbled a bit at the fact that the teachers had just watched this all happen. But…I was safe. I was safe. My lungs would probably never expand to full size again, but I was safe.

Thus, Kancho Central proved it was once again worthy of the name. I’ve had to work here for the last two days. Never have I been so on guard.

In other news, I found out that the full Japanese translation of David Williams is…Saiai no Ketsui no Kabuto. Which means, Beloved Helm of Determination. Japanese people think that name is frickin’ awesome. And…that translation gives me new purpose. I can’t ever give up with a name like that…yeesh.

D

Well…Here’s the obligatory birthday post. Let’s start this off with what happened on this uneventful day. I was sick. I took a train to Mito, while sick. I walked to Trust School, while sick. I then walked to the immigration office, while sick. I stood in line for an hour, while sick. I got my Visa, while sick. Walked back to Trust School, while sick. Startled Atsuko, while sick. Walked to the train station, while sick. Was flirted at by a high school girl (*shudder*), while sick. Rode the train home, while sick. And…walked home in the cold…all while sick. That was my birthday. Seriously.

Now, on to the tradition. In an old journal, I used to cover the past year on every birthday. I’ve decided to start that up again. Be warned. This is REALLY long and full of explanations, apologies, or thanks that I’m too much of a punk to say in person. It contains all of the important events of the year, explained in excruciating detail, and with backstory! So, don’t read it and get pissed off at the length. This is written for me, and anyone who wants to know what lies behind some closed doors with me. Be warned…this post will make me sound girl-obsessed and drunk, but hey…it was a time of follies for me, really.

I never thought I’d grow this much in one year, but as I look back on October 10^th, 2005, it seems like I’ve traveled so very far…emotionally, psychologically, spiritually…geographically… The year started off on a strange note—it was this day that I made two decisions: One was to switch to dreadlocks. The second was to gain 20 lbs of muscle by the end of May 2006. I wanted to use both of these as complete shockers at my good friend Jen’s wedding. Little did I know what would come to me during those processes.

I announced my intentions to Matt Shannon and Melanie Shirk, two individuals with which I am permanently intertwined in both good and bad ways. Matt is my friend of six years. Melanie is the girl who, if you water the story down a bit, nearly drove Matt and me to blows. But the story doesn’t go quite how it sounds, trust me. We all met for dinner in December. This was the first time the three of us had been assembled in over a year. Matt and I had grown past whatever had occurred in the previous year of suck (for the most part), but there was a slight weirdness to it. I was apparently full of a new kind of energy, according to Melanie, because I’d broken through the shackles of “Depresso Dave”, the rather frightening individual who was plagued by failures galore—educational, spiritual, romantic, and financial. I say he’s still lingering a bit.

The dinner went well, and I don’t know if either of them noticed my hesitance to sit next to either of them, or my discomfort when I sat next to Melanie, or the way I shifted my chair away from her to sit, ultimately, at the corner of the table, with Melanie and Matt sitting across from each other. You see, I had reached an understanding with Matt. I was never truly mad at him anyway. Oh, sure, my tongue had slipped several times, but…really, all tied to other stuff. Melanie however, was, at the time, the source of all my misogyny. As far as I knew, she followed a philosophy that more or less spat in the face of every hardship I’d faced in the romantic world, and to think that, even though it was during a time of outright craziness, I’d briefly fancied the girl…made my blood boil to say the least. But, I still enjoyed her spirit. She was and is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Yes, I was Melanie’s friend and enemy at the same time, which was just…hard. Fortunately, I had Matt there. Odd…because this situation was the reverse of the previous year. You’ll notice I’m focusing on this moment in time. That’s because it’s pretty much the resolution of my 23^rd year of existence.

Eventually, we all parted ways, but Matt and I lingered to goof off some more. Seamus and Jamal weren’t quite back in full effect, but…we were at least on laughing terms again.

A little earlier, in November, I’d been introduced to two girls who almost broke through the misogyny caused by Melanie and…another girl. These two new girls were almost the exact opposite of everything I looked for. I mean, come on, first and foremost, they were blondes. I don’t like blondes. The heck is that? But, they had amazing personalities. The tall one…I…kinda…sorta…dated. Not really. Not at all. We went to the beach…I…y…whatever. The other is like, 5’4”, and, well, she’s just flirty, so I knew I’d never end up dating the girl, but she and I were quite the pair when it came to humor and witty banter. But it was always more of a friend thing than anything. Unfortunately, just as I’d begun to hang out with the tall one, I had one of those “23-year-old-male” moments, and disappeared for a few weeks. This was at the end of 2005. People began to wonder what had happened to me, why I was staying to myself, and why, the few times I HAD been seen, I was always wearing hats.

The dreadlock times had begun and the workout plan had hit full fury. I’d found a new workout partner, David, who worked at Full Sail, AND lived in my apartment building, and together, we were workin’ hard toward our goals. Me? I was burning off angst and misogyny. Dave? Well, he’s just a really nice guy who wanted to look good. He’d talk to me about girls, and I’d try my best to respond without sounding too bitter, but…all that ended up happening was I’d say, “Yeah…don’t ask about that,” WAY too often. Dave eventually began to make some well placed jokes about it.

Full Sail had become my home. I’d joke around with Lionel, whose humor, gripes, fears and life experiences were frighteningly close to mine…though he was a lot cornier. He’s married though, so it’s allowed. Couldn’t keep up with my quick wit though. Musta been the age thing. I also talked with Matt (Lovell) and John, with whom I got into several interesting conversations. They…tended to let me speak freely without fearing the age issue, which was a huge help for me. John was my literary and grammatical guide, in a sense, and Matt and I joked about the world we knew. Chad, the guy who’d been hired with me, was someone I didn’t get to work with as often as I wanted to, but, man…he’s great with the stealth wit. Buuuuuut…I’m not gonna describe everyone. I had just settled in, really, and was enjoying driving The Short One (Nikki) insane. They enjoyed making fun of the fact that I was bringing in milk-gallons of water everyday. Lionel would laugh when he saw my dinners for the evenings, and…I was getting results, though only someone who was really watching me would notice.

In Feb., after I’d returned from Boston, Matt calls me saying, “Yo, Dave…I’m looking into moving to Japan. You interested? Contact this dude.” At the time, I was quite happy with my situation, and didn’t follow the Matt Shannon philosophy of “Run! Always run! Never…stop…moving!” Of course, this time, I had no clue WHY he was running, but that didn’t matter, I was happy. Plus, it was Matt. We’re talking about a guy who always talks about new ideas, just to distract you from what he’s really doing. Who thought he’d actually be straightforward this time? Nevertheless, I talked to Lionel about it, briefly.

“I’m tellin’ you, man…it’s the same thing, no matter what. You’ll be teaching kids.”

“Nah…this job’s different, I know.”

“How?” This is where Lionel gets that face and voice where…he doesn’t intend to seem like he’s mocking you, but it just kinda happens. How do I know this? Because I have the same face and voice.

“Wh…I just…I know.”

“Uh-huh.”

And that was that.

Four weeks later, Matt’s going away party was held…thrown. Now, this party had some SUPER weirdness in it. Considering that Matt and I had hung out four times in the last year, it was hard for me to just show up like I was still part of the close circle. Though, maybe I was. On top of that, I saw his parents for the first time in 18 months. These are the folks who would be happy if I randomly swung by their house, and I would gladly do it. Since the great S&J implosion, I know I’d never be able to quite look them in the eye without immediately spewing apologies and explanations between sobs, “I swear, I ain’t really like that girl! I ain’t mean them thangs I said! I was crazy, dang it! CRAAAAAZY!” But, they seemed happy to see me. Mr. Shannon, as usual, bestowed far too many compliments on me, and Mrs. Shannon, well…she’s just always too kind.

“Oh, Dave…look at you.”

“Look at ‘im, Mom! He’s got shoulders now!” said Matt, grinning stupidly.

“No jacket?” said Mr. Shannon, talking about the original Blue Jacket. I call her Blue.

I smiled. “Not today, sir. And I think I’ve figured out a way to keep it away from me for a long time.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and I just smirked toward my friend Charlotte…who we’ll talk about later.

Then there was Kirsten. I’m not gonna go too far into how Kirsten plays into Matt’s life, mostly because I don’t know a dern thing, but…suffice it to say, she’s very important. The last time I’d seen Kirsten, was five years prior, during my freshman year in college. This was a girl who made Matt smirk in ways I’d never seen him smirk before. She was also a girl who managed to make “Wild Wild West” one of the best movies I’d ever seen. I still don’t know how she did that, but that alone locked her into my memory. And then…there’s the one soundbyte from her that is forever locked in my head.

“Oh, no…never David. He’s puuuuuuuuuuuure.”

I forget the context. All I know is that, though she was joking, she did strengthen my will power at the time. Heh…she didn’t even remember, though. Kirsten was different at this party. It was quite odd talking to her, though. She’d changed, and even though I didn’t remember much about her, I could feel that. And at that party, she and I were the ones left out. So…we kinda…kept returning to each other. Hey, at least we had SOME link in the past.

Which brings me to the third weird point—this was the world Matt had built in my absence. This was the “aftermath” of the dissolving of Seamus and Jamal. The humor was foreign, almost brutal. The people walked with a rhythm I couldn’t follow. I mean, my essential replacement was there. Big ol’, 6’7” white dude named Mike. I laughed but was somewhat weirded out the whole evening. Fortunately, I knew that this wasn’t my party, it was Matt’s. So, I joked around with some folks, embarrassed Laurel, sat quietly with Charlotte, gave Mrs. Shannon a bit of an explanation for my actions over the last 2 years, and…relaxed. Suddenly, I heard,

“DAVE.”

I ran into the kitchen and found Mr. Shannon standing over Matt, who was looking rather strangely into the box I’d brought for him. He’d found the first of my gifts to him: Blue.

“Dave, I…”

“Eh…I figured you could take her to Japan with you. I don’t need her anymore.”

“Y..”

“There’s more…”

I’d included my “Jamal Uniform”, which consisted of Blue and a Blue Devils shirt that I wore…almost everyday of our freshman year. Also, I gave him some drawing materials, and a Fodor’s guide to Japan. Part of me felt that those were the right gifts to give my old friend who was leaving everything he knew behind. Still don’t really know why that was the ultimate decision, but…hey.

I was talking to a few people about leaving for Japan later in the year—particularly Kirsten. She and I seemed to be trying to convince each other that it was a good idea. Partly for our own futures, mostly because we…really didn’t want Matt to fly off somewhere and die…figuratively. Even my ex-roommate’s ex-girlfriend, Alex, seemed to think it was a wise decision for me, and thus…the seed was planted.

Later in the evening, Matt had to basically…bolt and catch his plane to Japan. There was one o’ them “eff-it-all” moments where we exchanged a big ol’ man hug, and…I helped him grab a few more belongings and headed outside to his car. I was determined to see the kid until the very end.

Once we’d put the last few boxes into his car, he hugged Alex, and we just kinda stood there, awkwardly.

“Take care of Blue for me, alright?”

“…That’s quite a task, but…alright.”

I just laughed and watched him get in the car and close the door. Then…

“…What am I doing?!”

“Exactly what you need to. Now GO!” And off they drove.

I waved one last time, and looked back at the house where the part was held. Again, I thought about the fact that this was the world that Matt built. And he had the guts to leave it all behind. That was something I’d wanted to do for a while. My own shortcomings and hang ups had written me into a corner, and I needed some way to get away, but, at that moment, instead of wanting to leave, a new idea popped into my head.

“He’s gone, so now…I have to hold things down here. I have to rebuild this whole mess I’ve made for myself. Yeah…”

Totally wasn’t gonna happen.

I e-mailed my parents about the Japan plans, and, to my surprise, they were calm. But I knew my mother was probably freaking out over the whole issue. But, eventually, I went home, and my mother said nothing. My father only asked me one question: “Do you want to do this?” When I replied, “Yes,” he just nodded. VERY different reaction than what I expected. Something wasn’t right. I knew it. Something just wasn’t right. But, I returned to Orlando without finding out just what that something was.

The next few weeks were my slack off times, regarding the workout schedule. I was on a shift that just didn’t cater to my efforts, plus, I’d met my “appearance” goal far earlier than I’d expected. But, in my mind, things were rather turbulent. I was stuck between wanting to go to Japan, and wondering if it was just a silly passing fancy. Oh yeah…run off to Japan. That’s awesome. Like you’d ever do something like that. The harder thing to balance was the fact that Matt was actually putting forth effort to make my voyage to Japan easier, and, if y’all didn’t know, in the past I’d somehow managed to totally ignore one of his attempts at helping me land a computer animation job. To this day, I don’t remember how that happened, and that fact irked me to no end. So, when Matt was making yet another effort to help me out, there was a serious mental conflict.

“Obviously, you gotta go. I mean, you can’t screw up again. But do you want to go?”

“Of course, I do. This country has issues that I’m tired of dealing with.”

“Uh huh.”

“Plus the only way for me to break this rut and cancel out my own control issues is to place myself in a situation where I’m totally out of control.”

“Step out on your own?”

“Yeah.”

“By following Matt?”

“Y…wait.”

“You’ll just be following, when you think about it.”

“But I want to go.”

“Really?”

“YES.”

“You sure you’re not just running away from your issues here? You do realize that it doesn’t matter where you are…they’ll follow you.”

“I know that.”

“On top of that…do you remember what happened last year? And do you know that depression is part of the culture shock cycle? Can you imagine what’s gonna happen to you if you go to Japan? Isn’t your greatest and only fear now…the fear of going back to that state of mind? You might not survive it!”

“...I’ve fought it once, I can do it again.”

“Really?”

“…Yeah…I think.”

I wasn’t in good shape that month, obviously. On top of that, a very important event was coming up. Jen’s wedding. Before I knew it, May had shown up, I’d gladly stopped wearing hats all the time, and finally let my dreadlocks fly free. I was nearing the end of my workout, and was quite happy with the results, but…I wasn’t as happy as I’d expected to be. The Japan issue was weighing heavily on my mind. And around mid May, I go an urgent e-mail from Mr. Shannon, Matt’s father. “Dave, please call. I need to talk to you about something.”

Now…this part of the story is something I write with great hesitation, because it does not just involve my experiences, but is closely tied to Matt’s as well.

Mr. Shannon has a tendency to call me or talk to me from time to time…and hold me in a far higher regard than I’m worth. This was one of his crazier moments, but it seemed to work.

“So, Dave…Matt really thinks you’re coming to Japan.”

“I am. I mean…I want to.”

“Okay…well, God bless you for that, but, really…you’ve been reading Matt’s e-mails. It’s not the easiest experience in the world. And you know you’ll have a VERY different experience than he will…bein’ the black man that you are.”

“I know. But…something tells me I need to go.”

“Why Dave? What’s the difference between bein’ a black man in America, and bein’ a black man in Japan?”

“…That’s exactly what I want to find out.”

“…And God bless you for it…really. Alright then.”

From there the conversation meandered, as conversations with Mr. Shannon always do, but through that conversation, we managed to get onto the topic of my own hardships with race and relationships, and then Matt’s hardships with his trip to Japan and relationships, and it was here that Mr. Shannon and I ran into something that…I wasn’t sure if either of us was really ready to talk about.

“And then there’s Melanie,” he said. “Oh, Matt really liked her. And from what I hear, so did you.”

I balked. “Ehhhhh…not…quite…like you might think….”

“So then…what happened?”

“You…sure you want to know?”

“Dave…just talk.”

“Alright…well…Matt—“

“I know what happened with Matt. I want to know what happened to you.”

“…Okay…well…you know I was going crazy during those days.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Really? Well…okay, so I was going crazy. A lot of issues with family, isolation, religion, education, finances…everything was going bad at once. My cynicism had gotten really, really bad, and I didn’t trust anyone. Earlier, before things went to total garbage, I met Melanie through a mutual friend. My old roommate actually. Wasn’t much to my friendship with her. We just talked from time to time. Then…she disappeared, as did I. When she returned she was different. This was just when things started going really badly for me, but when she came back, a really stupid idea came into my head. I think we both can admit that I’m one of the most closed off, masked people ever.”

“Yeah, ya know, maybe….”

“Well, I made a decision. I wanted to end all the turmoil in my mind, and to do that, I had to do something extreme. I was going to have to trust someone else. I was going to have to open up…and the person that seemed to be able to handle it was…Melanie.”

“…Alright.”

“So, she was basically a personal therapist. It was selfish, I know. And I warned her about what might happen. I said that I might end up hating her, or I might end up really liking her way too much, simply because of the connection that was going to be made, and if that happened, it was time for me to disappear again. Yeah….that was extremely selfish, but she went along with it. Right around this time was when Matt started realizing he liked her. Which…heh, lemme tell you, that resulted in some SERIOUS issues. Because…we were competing for her time, but not for the reasons we thought. If I hung out with Melanie one night, Matt would think I was trying to date her, and I’m sure that screwed with his head, since I was once his best friend. But, if Matt would take her out one night, my brain was so messed up that all I saw was someone intentionally standing in the way of my healing process, and that pissed me off to no end.”

“And Mel was caught in the middle.”

“Whoo…was she ever. And she made the mistake of communicating with both of us about each other. On top of that, Matt and I were both dealing with our own issues. And if you place two people with problems in a confined area…their problems amplify each other. So, our two little storms of angst and woe became this hurricane of…yuck. Which…was perfectly symbolized by the hurricane season that year.”

“Ya know…I knew that, but…I like the way you put it better.”

“Heh, well…truth of the matter was that I never had any real problems with Matt…it was just a bad time. But…we’re talking about Mel. So, later on, round the end of August 2004, the dam broke. I’d been holding back the ‘result’ of my experiment for a very long time, because I knew it was just a psychological thing. I didn’t really like Melanie, it was just the fact that my inner problems were starved for attention and the fact that she actually listened to me that were…pulling me towards her more and more often. If it had been anyone else who was listening, the result would’ve been the same. But one day at the end of August, I forgot that…and totally thought I was falling for Mel. At the time, there was another girl on my mind, but Mel managed to overwrite that…and that was when I knew it had gone too far. But the damage had been done. So, I knew it was time to back off. I needed to be away from all of it. I realized I was totally screwing things up for everyone. So…that’s when I told Matt I was moving out of the house.”

Is this exactly how the conversation went? No, but I guarantee, that’s really frickin’ close. I was kind enough to Mr. Shannon to leave out what happened afterward, where my “feelings” for Mel transformed into total mistrust and misogyny. And, though you might not want to read it, oh…we’re comin’ back to it later. Because eventually, I came to terms with the truth. And that took some effort.

But maybe you’re wondering who this “other girl” is. Maybe. That’s funny, because the day after my conversation with Mr. Shannon, that very girl called me.

“Dah-veeeeeed!” This was, and is, her pet name for me. “I’m inviting all the old Lake Claire RAs to my parents’ house in Leesburg. We’ll go out on the lake it their boat and just relax. You wanna come?”

“…Maybe,” was my response. My guard was up. I would never show any emotion around this girl again. Never.

“Okay, well…Jen’s coming too, because she wants to see all of us before her wedding.”

I sighed. “Alright…if Jen’s there, I’ll be there.” My relationship with Jen is a special one, so I try my absolute best NEVER to miss an opportunity to see her. (Note: Take this time to remember…JEN is the one getting married. J-E-N. Seriously…you’ll need it.)

But, one week before Jen’s wedding, I found myself driving Jen, Bree, and our friend Graham to Leesburg, listening to Gnarls Barkley and Prince, and me trying my best to remind myself to at least seem cheerful. Hardest thing in the world for me.

“Look at you…you’ve grown up,” said Jen.

“What?” I asked.

“You set out on this goal, and now…you’re all muscley and dreaded. I’m proud of you.”

I just smiled.

“And you’re going to JAPAN!!!”

Cough. “Yeah…yeah…”

Eventually, we arrived at the house, and “she” opened the door. I lingered in the back as she hugged those who had just arrived, but eventually, it was my turn.

There she was—Jenny. The girl who had been an essential part of my depression, and was actually the last thing that kept me from falling apart. When she left Orlando for Tampa, that was the end of it. I remember thinking I had a chance with Jenny. In fact, I know I did at one point. But, by the time I realized that, my brain was completely screwed up. I couldn’t even form sentences properly without some completely depressing thing flying out of my mouth. Melanie was actually helping me out with the Jenny situation before things got ugly. I knew that until I could get my brain back to normal, there was no reason for me to even try talking to Jenny, and…Melanie wanted to help. To be honest, I think that was why I tried so hard with Melanie. Jenny really meant a lot to me, and if talking to Melanie was going to fix me? Well, shoot, I was gonna go for the gusto. But when I suddenly began holding Melanie and Jenny on the same level…. I can’t begin to describe the confusion that caused. I remember my final decision in that situation. Again, it was extreme.

“Go for both of them. It’s driving you insane. You know you’re too screwed up to actually make it anywhere with either of them, so maybe if you burn both bridges at once, you can gain some semblance of sanity again. Or…if you’re lucky, you’ll end up with one of them, and suddenly, you’ll feel a thousand times better.”

Oh…oh, that is PROOF that I was not in my right mind. Aaagh. Needless to say, bridges were burned. Sanity returned…but in the initial form of burning, all-consuming misogyny. …Dah well!

The day on the boat was fun. Read that again. The day on the boat…was fun. The boat. Fun. If you didn’t know…I HATE boats. I have (had) a very strong fear of water. But somehow…out on that boat…I was just fine. My only conclusion was that the year of wailing and gnashing of teeth that was 2004 burned all irrational fear out of me (though I used my fear of water as an excuse to get out of a canoe trip earlier), because the water meant nothing to me. Shoot, I almost jumped off the boat for a laugh. Had I not had dreadlocks…it would’ve happened. And…even after consuming a few alcoholic beverages, I felt absolutely nothing for Jenny. I searched my mind relentlessly to make sure I wasn’t just holding something back and found nothing. Part of me was saddened, because I remembered that old feeling I got from being around her. It was something I hadn’t felt since…7 years prior. A very rare condition where my heart is actually willing to feel something besides…yuck. I began to wonder if it would ever happen again. Even the two blondes I’d become interested was…by force. “You can’t stay closed off forever. Maybe someone can jumpstart it.” No. No, they really can’t. I learned that lesson from Melanie, but I’ll probably keep trying again and again, until I can break through my own walls. But we’re talking about years and years of repeatedly being taught that you can’t trust anyone, not friends, not family, no one. ...That’s gonna take a long, long time to just break through.

One week later came Jen’s wedding. This was a very strange moment, since she was the first of my friends to get married. But, most of the old Lake Claire crew showed up, and all seemed quite shocked by my progress. It was really good to see them, honestly. A large part of my depression came from the fact that this group of people, Lake Claire Resident Assistants, were some of the closest friends I’ve ever had—they’re actually included in the world of Seamus and Jamal—but in one month…they all left me on m own at Lake Claire. Poor Matt was left to deal with my haggard soul after that. Anyway, seeing this group together again made me very, very happy, but…it still wasn’t what it used to be. That was sad as well. I’d grown past my dependency on the unity of Lake Claire, and, though liberating, it resulted in lukewarm emotions, which is pretty much an excellent description of my emotional spectrum…when I’m not going insane.

But, Jen got married, and…I went home, now faced with a scary, scary task. Japan. Matt told me that he’d have things squared away for me by the end of June. That was perfect timing to make sure I’d be able to give my boss at Full Sail proper notice, because, honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was screw over this new group of people who reminded me so much of Lake Claire. But…the weeks went by. Even without knowing for sure what was going to happen, I announced at my family reunion that I was leaving for Japan in September. But, the end of June came around, and things were still uncertain. Shoot, I didn’t even have the funds to GET to Japan, and the ticket purchasing window was closing…. And thus, the whole situation changed.

This was the moment where I took control. It was no longer, “Going to Japan to make sure I don’t pass up another opportunity from Matt.” Nor was it, “Everything’s gonna fall apart here! I have to run!” I was leaving because I chose to. Because I wanted to. I had found my resolve…I don’t know where, really. But it…was completely new to me. I was breaking every rule that I’d built up to keep myself safe, and I was completely ignoring every last trait that made me the David Williams most people had come to know. It was…odd. I took a second job, delivering papers for USA Today, to pay for my plane ticket. I began studying Japanese in super overdrive. I was exhausted and determined, frustrated and dauntless. No one knows the struggle I went through every day at 3:30 am, waking up to deliver papers, and coming home to find no responses from Trust School, or Matt.

I grew exponentially in these times…particularly in one area—the Melanie issue. Back in May, I told my friend Pena, “I have to get past all this garbage, man. This misogyny ain’t healthy, and now, there’s only one source of it. Mel. I have to forgive her. I have to find the right answers about what happened between her and me…and then…maybe I’ll be free of all this.” I had even tried to visit her after Jen’s wedding, since she lived so close to where it was held, but that didn’t work. But…during my paper deliveries, I had a LOT of pondering time, and when it came to Melanie, I was reminded of a conversation I had with her over a year earlier, when Matt and I were…not quite so cool. We were sitting on the bumper of my car, outside of a Sonic Burger at 1 in the morning.

“Honestly, kid,” I said. “I look forward to when all this is said and done, and we’re friends again.”

“Really?” asked Mel.

“Yeah. I mean…come on, can you imagine how downright awesomely stupid that’ll be? Friendships always get stronger from fights that don’t destroy ‘em.”

“…What made you start thinking like this?”

“I heard a quote: ‘Never judge a person by who they are currently in your relationship. Try to remember who they’ve been throughout.’ Matt most definitely is not my antagonist. Yeah…it’ll be fun once all this is done.”

Mel giggled. “I’m glad to hear you talk like that.”

And there I was, at 4 in the morning, in the front of my car, realizing what my brain had managed to do over time. Unfortunately, I’d warped the situation to believe that…during Mel’s time as my therapist, she’d been using my anger at Matt to get information out of me, information about him to help her figure out whether or not she wanted to date him. And when I began to get along with Matt again, she’d toss in a few barbs to remind me. Or vent about something he did. I had actually had no chance with her, but…she was using me as a pawn to get to Matt. That’s what I had believed for a very, very long time. But then I remembered how many nights she put up with my overdramatic behind, with moments of SERIOUS awkwardness, and with no mention of Matt. And…how these nights outnumbered the Matt complaints. Mel…had actually just tried to help, and gotten caught in the middle of something terrible. And so, my misogyny disappeared…mostly. Nothing happens over night, people…come on!

But I kept growing in other ways as well. Few could understand how much it took for me to quit my job at Full Sail even though things were most definitely NOT certain (thought I told everyone things were fine). And only my mother could know how hard I was hit when my car window broke and cost me 450 dollars, or when my car battery died, or when…Trust School called me and said the only way they’d hire me was if I left two full weeks before the day Matt and I had planned for.

There are those moments where everything falls apart, right before you ultimately succeed. It’s weird when you reach those moments, because…everything seems muted. Everything you planned for just shatters, and there’s really nothing underneath. That void…is deafening. Some people give up. Some people say it’s fate, and walk away, happy that they tried. Some people say it’s a sign from God that you aren’t supposed to make it to that point. Once…I thought that very thing. Not this time, though. I think…that was one of those “throw caution to the wind” moments when it came to my beliefs. In my mind, I kept imagining myself trying to fly, and…God Himself kept hammering me back down to the earth. But…I told Him, quite honestly…and rather bluntly, that if He was going to stop me…He’d have to rip everything from me. I was going to Japan because I felt that I was supposed to be there, like He wanted me there, and any lame attempt at stopping me was only going to be seen as a test to make me stronger. If He didn’t want me to go…either I was gonna end up dead, or Japan would sink under the waves. And…after that…things went amazingly well. Trust School suddenly had a position that would start in September. Money worked out even better than I could have possibly imagined. Everything…was great.

And then tuberculosis hit. Oh…oh, good lord was I pissed off. I’d made it within one week of my goal, only to test positive for tuberculosis?! NEVER have I rushed to medical appointments with such purpose as I did in those days. And never has every symptom of a disease scared me so very much. Breathing problems, coughing…everything felt like God saying, “Don’t ever talk to me like that again.” All this crap came the day before my going away party.

That is probably the thing I remember the least. My mind was swimming and my chest was killing me. Jenny kept looking at me with worried eyes, because she was the only one who knew that I’d just tested positive. I still needed to move out a lot of my belongings from my apartment. I still needed to go see my grandmother in Tarpon Springs before I left. I still had to get my chest x-rayed. I…barely remember who was there. I remember a lot of rushed conversations, and…stuff. But…eventually, it ended, and everyone left, but…I was still stressed.

I drove to Tarpon Springs the next day, immediately after getting my chest x-rayed, and surprised my grandmother by showing up at her church. It was a heartwarming moment, but, the message that morning…was not one I’d necessarily agree with. Talking about how…if something is meant to be, God will make sure that things go your way. Kinda spits in the face of every journey ever taken, doesn’t it? But just as I’d finished my scoffing, the pastor called me to the front of the church. It was here that he actually, like…anointed me, and the whole church prayed over me to have a safe trip to Japan. This was one extremely confusing moment for me, because the message that morning was totally not something I believed, and yet, I wanted to believe so strongly in the fact that the oil this man put on my forehead, and the words he spoke so sincerely would instantly clear my chest problems, and make that X-ray come out negative. You know, like it did in the good ol’ Biblical days of partin’ seas and washin’ off leprosy. I did take a deep breath right after the prayer was done, to check, but…nope. Still painful. Dah well.

My last week at work was fun, with my boss buying my fried chicken for a going away party…lord. But that chicken was extra delicious because…the day before, I found out that my x-ray came out negative, despite my symptoms! And thus began the great moving out fiasco…

When you’re working two jobs, and running around like a mad man to get passports photocopied, degrees, birth certificates, chest x-rays, parties, farewells and sucker punches out of the way, you don’t have any time to actually move out of your apartment. So, my last two days in Orlando were spent frantically packing everything I could or throwing it away. Thanks Arden Villas for having the worlds smallest dumpster opening…EVER.

Four friends helped me in this task. Whiter Dave, Justin Williams, Laurel, and, the winner of the “David Really Didn’t Tell Her How Much He Appreciated Her Existence” award, Charlotte. Oh yes, this girl deserves her own section in this year in review, because she’s been around for more than I realized. Charlotte was, and is, like one of those characters that shows up randomly in a book. Oh, you can tell they’re gonna be important, but…you don’t know how until the VERY end. That’s Charlotte. She was around during the glorious Lake Claire days, Project L (if you want to know…ask someone else…really), the Fall of David Williams, the implosion of Seamus and Jamal, and lots of other events that I love giving dramatic titles. Charlotte…it’s really tough to describe just how key she’s been, because…she was unfortunately relegated to a role as my “little sister” in a sense, but…not really. I remembered helping her through a few hard times, and then being totally shocked at how similar our paths were. Everything I experienced, she was two steps behind me. When my friendships fell through, a few months later, the same thing happened to her. It…still amazes me, because I know she thought she was the one who learned from me, and that I was the one who helped her through tough times, but the truth was, without her I wouldn’t have learned anything. On top of that, she was there on that last day, helping me move things out, even though she had so very much to do that day. At the time my brain was too shattered to realize what she was doing, but…it hit me for a moment when she cut her finger while helping. All of this…all of this I just didn’t quite understand, not until my plane was leaving West Palm Beach, and I took a deep breath, feeling relief wash over me. I thought back on what I was leaving behind, what I’d left undone, and it made me laugh. I wondered if I’d actually manage to miss anyone, because, my heart’s waaay too closed off to let that happen—but then an image flashed in my mind.

I was standing in front of the entrance to my Arden Villas building, unlocking the door, and Charlotte lifted her hand up.

“Ow…” she said. There was blood oozing from a fresh cut.

I immediately sat bolt upright in my plane seat and tilted my head to look out the window, to the north, toward Orlando. No words came out of my mouth, but my brain said it.

“…I’ll miss Charlotte…”

Now THAT was a weird moment, believe me. Still working that one out, but…it revealed something to me. I tell folks that I never miss people, because…I don’t. It’s either because the walls I’ve built up are so thick, or because physical distance means nothing to me, or both. But I felt horrible for lacking that emotion in that moment. I felt horrible for feeling so isolated when I had so many good people around me that genuinely cared about me and my dreams. I felt horrible for telling them that I always felt alone, and that I felt like no one could understand, or even want to deal with me in my entirety. I felt horrible for always walking away from them, and then saying that they left me. I didn’t know what to think or feel, I couldn’t tell what parts of my emotional issues were nature, nurture, or self-constructed. I thought about how frustrating I must’ve been for everyone in my college days…where I first started making actual friends. And it all flashed back in my mind, until I was left with an image of the first real friend I had made in college, and quite possibly my entire life. That same fool kid who had an unusually happy grin on his face when he found out a black kid was his roommate. And imagine my surprise when I found that kid, six years later, in Tokyo International Airport looking exactly like he did the first day I met him: Polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a goofy look on his face that said, “I won!”

“Yo,” said Matt.

“Sup, man. Where do I go now?”

Twelve months. Twelve thousand miles. And I’m finally right back where I started. Happy birthday…to me.

D