nagasaki blues

The last time I took some time out to write about how things were going, it was in the margins of a notebook on a northbound train for Tokyo to meet my family in Narita, a bit of a wasteland only worth knowing the name of because it’s home to Japan’s largest international airport.

My father and sister stayed for about five days, and between traveling with them and going to pick them up I spent something like 35 hours on trains. In this time, I accomplished the following feats:

1) Destroying “New Mario Brothers” for the Nintendo DS in a scant three hours.
2) Beginning and finishing Zadie Smith’s White Teeth, which I suggest you do as well.
3) Sampling some of Kyoto’s finest boxed lunches.
4) Sleeping.

Regardless, my notes look something like this:

I must confess to a mystic fascination with public transportation and trains in particular. There’s something vaguely magical about falling asleep near home and waking up somewhere you’ve never been before. It’s like drinking to excess, only without the hangover and far more expensive. I am a-okay with that.

I had plenty of time to think on the train, and I thought a great deal about work. Plenty of people I talk to regularly seem to forget that I actually have a job that requires most of my time, seeing as all the interesting stories are about doing exciting things in exciting places. Fact of the matter is, at the end of the day, I’m just another sub-par teacher trying to keep a day ahead of everything. It’s not all glorious Japanese hilarity. I wake up every morning and put on a coat and tie and get down to gettin’ busy. With this job comes the inevitable frustrations and complications that virtually all jobs have, but with this one there’s a fundamental difference: if I slack off, if I blow off responsibilities and try to wing everything, it’s not me that gets hurt. Not at all, actually, since I’m under contract. But it’s no good for the kids, and I’ve grown rather attached to them. This startling development has caused me some stress.

I have yet to receive a noise complaint from any of my neighbors, for instance. This happened something like once a week back home. Have I lost the ability to rock? It’s a distinct possibility, one that should shake you all to the bone. I was planning on shredding my way to the forefront as rock’s new savior, but if I’m too busy grading English tests then someone else may have to step up, and I’ll be damned if the world needs another U2 album right now. God help us all. (Or Satan. Whichever is in charge of rocking.)

It’s hardly just that, though. My hair is turning grey. My patience is eroding. I have watched the frustrations of this environment eat at it slowly, then more quickly, until all it takes is one miscommunication too many to put me in a murderous mood. It took me a long time to build up the kind of tolerance for unpleasantries that I came here with.

It cost me more than you think to cultivate the kind of emotional distance from everyday life that allowed me to look cosmic misfortune (or personal screw-ups) in the eye and say: “Oh well. Might as well move on.”

But, somewhere around Yokohama, a realization hit me. In a moment of zen-like clarity I realized whose life I have wanted all along: the good-natured and aging Japanese alcoholic.

You heard me. Think about it.

This is a man whose entire drive from the moment he wakes up until the moment he goes to sleep is to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, at all times. He is functional, mind you; he typically holds a respectable job and shows up. However, he sleeps at his desk when he’s tired, vomits in the streets, and blatantly ignores things that irritate him. He’s long since learned that sweating the small stuff is a waste of time and energy, and the only things that aren’t small stuff are baseball, fishing, and the people he loves.

I’m not saying that sleeping on the job and collapsing in gutters on weeknights are appropriate behaviors to copy, but I am suggesting that a certain kind of apathy is a pivotal tool in preserving mental health.

So here’s to thinking less. Since I wrote those lines, I’ve taken three weeks off of school to travel southeast Asia (more to come on that later),  joined a new band, bought a new television (and a new couch from which to enjoy it), and resolved to take more naps.

So far, so good.

And here’s my New Years Resolution: to write more. Much more. Expect frequent updates from here out.