Epitaph: "Hope is for the hopeless, because the rest will be all right."
(Singing birds in the background) Life in Tokyo can be such an amazing and rewarding experience… (Scratched record) Hmmm… No, not really. Life in Tokyo is pretty much like life in New York; it all depends on whom you know and how well you know them. Surviving in this city also depends on the same two factors. If you know enough people to get you into clubs for free, you party, if not, you dance to iTunes at home because you don’t have any money. The biggest question is always, “Can you get me in on the guest list?” Once you’ve found your niche and those you milk there, it’s hard to get out and move on to new and exciting things. Parties become mundane and outings to temples unholy.
After you spend a certain amount of years in Japan the novelty wears off. The “Harajuku girls” no longer excite you (Actually, they never excited me as much as they excited Gwen Stefani). “Hello Kitty” vibrators—have one (a collector’s item). One becomes cynical about the way the city is changing: “I can’t believe they destroyed those cute little houses on Omotesando to build that monstrous block of glass to house stores that no one can afford.” I’m starting to talk like the bitter expats with bees up their asses. And I was once a pretty happy kid.
When people enviously email me to ask about life in Tokyo, I can’t help but laugh. How is life in New York? I want to ask them. ‘Cause right now it looks a lot more appealing than life here. Been here, done this—is my new attitude. The only thing left to do is climb Mt. Fuji. According to my theories the trip should provide me with spiritual guidance. My father believes that there’s something wrong with my head if Mt. Fuji is more important to me than seeing my family. That’s not necessarily true, I'm just trying to give Japan another chance to impress me before it fails completely.
If only all those people who get me into clubs could also get me a job that paid a lot of money and didn’t involve me teaching them English. I’ve taught so much English that I now gesticulate and speak like a retard. While waving my hands I say things like:“I—w-e-n-t—to—a—p-a-r-t-y.—It—w-a-s—f-u-n! —D-o—y-o-u—u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d?” Besides that, I learned to research absolutely useless things and stare at my computer in disbelief--the disbelief being an allergic reaction to my boss and her assignments.
“I can't help but wonder" if the fleeting beauty of cherry blossoms will rid me of my cynicism. Honestly, I’m starting to lose hope.