back at square one

If I were to squish all my feelings into a word,

I don’t think I would be able to find a word; let alone create a word to describe what I’m feeling right now because it’s all rather abstract and confusing, and stupid.

If you could thumb through a thesaurus, any kind of thesaurus; and look up words such as ‘disorientated’, or ‘confused’, or let’s try, ‘unworthy’, or ‘grateful’. These words all combined would then form into one ridiculous word, that would then be justifiable to describe what I’m feeling.

When you are moving houses, you would find empty boxes.

Empty carton boxes that would keep all the physical things that are part of your life.

So whilst you are squishing your life into a few watermelon boxes, you do it carefully.

You roll your clothes into shapes that resemble sushi rolls as neatly as possible.

You fold your underwear the way your mom has tried to teach you for years, and you give up, and resort to tie them in a knot.

You realize that you have accumulated too many black stockings, for no one needs 10 pairs of black stockings in their lifetime unless they plan to walk through a field of needles.

You also cringe as you begin to understand the gravity of how one does not need 200 pens in different shade of periwinkle blue to help one study.

So you just close an eye, and you also hide these regretful purchases within the watermelon box.

You arrange your books in height order, taping the edges so that the pages don’t wrinkle.

Books are just about the only things I never regret purchasing; even if the story isn’t that fun to read.

Books are knowledge; and what better way to spend your cash on knowledge in physical form?

So as I packed all my novels, both English and Japanese, school books, devotional books, empty notebooks that are waiting to be bathed in ink, I would put these books in plastic bags, and wrap them like presents.

Just in case it rains; at least my books have a raincoat. =]

(because it makes so much sense that it would rain in the hottest part of the summer, and it also makes sense that my watermelon box is not waterproof. Yeah, I realize that process of my packing was highly unnecessary and illogical.)

You gingerly, tenderly, pack your life into these watermelon boxes, and you wait.

You wait, and you keep waiting.

You use your own body, and perhaps the help of a very kind classmate, and you move.

You slowly walk down the stairs, to a tiny Nissan car, and you pile your life into this vehicle, hoping that on the way, there will not be any accidents. (I was involved in a taxi accident the other time we were moving)

As you drive away from what you were just finding comforting and familiar,

you are removed from this environment, and asked to adjust to a new one.

In the past I think I would have been shockingly negative about this,

But I was looking forward to meeting my new host family.

I’ve met them once, but I didn’t know what to expect.

This pleasantly spacious house, the even more pleasant people to match?

Fate is being kind to me this summer.

As I brought up my watermelon boxes and luggages into my new room,

I was excited to unpack all my life into the drawers and closet;

Because I cannot wait to settle down into a family that will hopefully love me like their own.

I am anticipating for when something is going to go wrong,

And this is a terrible and awful mentality but I guess bad habits die hard.

I hope that by wearing my heart on my sleeve, and being as bubbly as I was back in April when I didn’t exactly know what domestic violence was, having been a victim of it for the past three months, I will not get hurt by this family.

I’m hoping I will learn the amazing positives of what this culture has to offer.

They have turned out to be extremely selfless and generous; taking me out to a restaurant on my first night here, to welcome me to the family.

I’ve never been out to eat with my previous family, and it was never a restaurant like this one if they were to take me anyway.

The house is also really different.

Not different in the sense they have a totally different toilet system; because I think all Japanese bathrooms and toilets have the exact same layout.

However, the size of this house.

It’s small in European standards, but in comparison to the houses I’ve seen?

This one is relatively modern. =]

I’m surprised they do not have wifi though.

So I’m going to have to get used to using the internet at a limited time again;

Because at my previous food paradise of an island, I used the internet every day,

And I could also write blogs whenever I felt like I had something to say.

It’s going to be difficult to publish blogs frequently now;

But this is seriously a minor setback.

So minor; I shouldn’t be mentioning this. =]

MY ROOM.

I love, LOVE my room.

I have a bed!

It’s not a futon, it’s a bed.

It’s built purely for the purpose of sleep, and maybe some other naughty things, but that’s a different story. J

And guess what. 

A TV! A TV, a wardrobe(oh my god, a wardrobe…I didn’t know Japanese houses utilized these!), my own air-con, a desk, and not to mention the room has relatively enough walking space without bumping into something.

When people encouraged me to try and change earlier during my exchange; I was extremely hesitant.

I thought it could only get worse;

But what I am so unaware of is that I had the worst.

The worst was chucked in my face from the very beginning, and now my exchange is slowly looking up.

WYS of course, is the only thing that is stopping me from having an amazing summer,

With unfair restrictions and even worse rules to match,

But fortunately, my host family dislikes WYS just as much as I do; if not more.

(I wish I changed earlier. This was what I was missing out on!)

They are such independent people.

In comparison to my previous host family; I’m finding that I’m the one in the house while they all go to work/school, or just…out.

I’m trying to grab all the quiet time I can get before school starts again;

Because when that happens, I highly doubt I’ll get any time to myself.

I’m allowed to go out too, as long as I’m back before 11, pretty much.

So I don’t really think I have a curfew; just more of a ‘be-sensible-about-the-time-you-come-home-and-ring-us-to-let-us-know-if-you-are-home-for-dinner’ kind of rule, which is the best rule around really, seeming as my 9PM curfew back in Saitama meant that I could never experience the nightlife in Tokyo. 

They have two dogs too, and I’m just grateful I don’t have scary red eyes that itch within an hour of being in contact with them.

They are very…lively, though, I must say.

It must be the Chihuahua in them.

They are some mix of terrier and Chihuahua, I think? And I’m pretty damn sure the only reason they bark so much is because of those mutated rat genes that have been so unfortunately inbred into them.

Time goes by so slow now.

I can enjoy each hour, by the hour, without cringing as I realize that it’s time to catch the bus back home to the house of horrors.

This house, this family, they are far from my first host family.

They are also different than my previous host family that fed me a lot; but they are so refreshing.

My host dad is the only Japanese male man that I’ve met that does not creep me out.

I don’t think he will be coming into my room late at night to give me talks about building relationships anytime soon; if not ever. J

The host sister has a part time job that goes till super late; but its again, super refreshing to know a Japanese girl that has a life outside of her own family.

The host mom is so sweet, and caring, and I hope that she won’t do a 180 like my first host mom did, and turn into some raging menopausal maniac. J

I highly doubt she will; she’s too educated to. :D

I’m writing this blog as I just finished folding my watermelon boxes.

They are stored away in the wardrobe now; hoping to be reopened, and reused only when it is my time to leave this country.

Any sooner, I don’t know how I can handle.

Although I really do see myself living here for the remaining time I have left.

So for those of you that have been reading my blog;

And for those of you that never bother to comment (all of you),

Thank you.

Thank you for putting up with my countless grammatical errors and embarrassing choice of vocabulary.

Thank you, and I hope you continue to keep me in your prayers,

For you are in mine.

(Believe it or not; I actually pray for New Zealand.)

All my love always,

April