Beginning my Dreams in the Skies - #7 A Halloween Nightmare (Blog Translation)

After studying abroad in America for about half a year, I had become accustomed to the sound of English and started to slowly be able to have a conversation. But I wouldn't usually be the person to initiate conversation. I couldn't really express my full feelings, so I'd really just answer other people using simple vocabulary. After over a year I did finally start conversations, but my chest would hurt with how nervous I was. This was unusual for me, as, much as I do now, I used to arm myself with little thoughts like "whatever comes!". When I was 18 I didn't really have much fear about starting awkward conversations. I was all about awkward conversations!

During this time period though, I was dealing with an extraordinary amount of culture shock. So then there was the Halloween Party during my second year in the US. I was invited to a Halloween Party by one of my friends who lived in the same university dorm as I did. It was a large scale, an off-campus party where something like 300 students gathered, and for me, it was my first American experience at a large party like this. I couldn't really speak English very well so was especially socially awkward but with the bustling atmosphere of the party, the drinking, wearing the witch costume I had made with my friends, I was super excited to join in.

Even though the party started in the evening, it was already super dark. The house we went to was huge, but it was also old, and it seemed like the music and voices from the party could be heard from miles away. When we entered the house, there was absolutely nowhere to walk, with all the people that were there. But I saw faces I recognized throughout campus. It really was a student party. Everyone was dressed in various costumes and seemed to be drinking enthusiastically. This was the first time I had been to a party with so many people that when I'd enter a room the smoke in the air would sting my eyes. I got separated from the Japanese friends I came with to the party, and when I suddenly lost sight of them, I became very uncomfortable.

Since I couldn't really speak English well, I stuck to saying "Hi" and smiling and nodding while looking for my friends. I went to a basement room but with all the smoke couldn't really see much of anything. It wasn't so bad as being in the middle of a cloud, but it got difficult to see in front of me with all the smoke. Suddenly, the floor from upstairs started rumbling with the sound of stomping feet, running around. "What was that? What's going on?" I thought as the police entered the room. I think they shouted "Nobody move!" but with all the smoke and whatnot, I didn't really understand what was going on.

After being brought outside by the police, they asked me some questions. I didn't know at all what was going on and with my fear and discomfort, I started shedding some tears. They had been looking for illegal drugs, as it turns out. Nowadays, in some states, marijuana is legal but at that time even just carrying it was illegal. And in those days, naive me, who knew nothing about any sort of smoke, couldn't tell the difference between cigarette smoke and marijuana. One way or another, they got the gist that I wasn't involved in anything and I was released from custody. But as I walked home, the full effect of the shock hit me. Instead of going to what I thought would be a fun event, everything was turned upside-down and I saw the full scariness of America. It made my heart sink.

For me, as a typical born-and-raised in Japan kid, it's normal to have no experiences like this, isn't it? We don't have opportunities to take illegal drugs and get caught up in the mess from that. For me to get caught in this for my first Halloween in the US, it was a real trauma.Until my own child was born, I had come to think of Halloween as this harsh thing here in the US. There isn't much more of a huge culture shock than to be an innocent, straight-edge Japanese person, plopped into the middle of a country where it is so easy to get drugs.

Original Post at: http://bizseeds.net/articles/321

i miss you

 What do you do with a memory? Do you toss in a box, cart it around with you wherever you go? Do You collect them,  like  shiny seashells in a sand bucket?   Show each one to an audience, a carefully vetted one, so that you can you'll get the reaction you're looking for in your display.   What does a memory feel like? Is it soft if you touch it? Can you wrap your arms around it and squeeze it with love?  Will it return your affections? What exactly can you do with a memory?
What does it gain you, to remember, but never again engage?   Can we truly call ourselves enriched by something so flimsy and malleable as a memory?
You have good memories of him.
The begs the question, was the memory the end goal? was the day today, in and out, ups and downs, affections, rebukes, endearments and disgusts merely required steps to obtain your ultimate goal?
Your goal?
That memory.
 Which is the most important memory? Is it the first? Is it the last?  How is it that dearly held memories and so quickly turned to poison?  Taunting you at what will never be again. You can remember, but never again can you have. Does this make all memories suspect?
 Are you supposed to carry each memory, treasure it like your array of credit cards, lest you lose even one and thus lose yourself.  Your identity.
What am I supposed to do with this box of memories?
No memory may be carried forever.   Those who remember become those remembered and those remembered, too, fade away. So what is gained by carrying a memory at all?
To be wholly dependent on the memory indicates future aspirations are lost. Only memory remains. When there are no memories, and only  aspiration exists, we call that birth.  We call that exciting, we call that hopeful. But when only memories remain, we call that death.
What do you do with a memory, when sadness has already filled you to capacity?