For a while, it’s been easier for me to make friends with boys than with girls.

My interests as a child were always things like video games and cartoons for boys, and I was scared to even touch a tube of lipstick, let alone think about putting that clown “makeup” on my face. I would feel like crying if the majority of presents received on my birthday or Christmas consisted of clothing. I would wear a dress maybe once a year. I just didn’t want to be a girl most of the time, and if I had been even a little bit athletic I probably would have thrown my heart and soul into soccer or something (as it is, I suck at any and all sports, so I just poured my heart into reading whenever my mom told me to stop playing videogames).

I just didn’t relate to most girls my age. That doesn’t mean I even had a lot of guy friends (I had trouble relating to people in general). Instead, I made my closest and dearest relationships with other girls who felt kinda the same. And we would sit and watch anime together, and talk about boys we liked that we couldn’t talk to, and eat junk food, and make fun of the theoretical “slumber parties” that were going on with the stupid girls our own age (even though we were having slumber parties ourselves). It was only when I started high school that I made my first real guy friends, partly because one of them was an ex-boyfriend I had dated for 5 months, and the other was an ex-boyfriend I had dated for 5 weeks, and I sort of made friends with their friends (and then the two groups kinda linked up). And while at the time I would have told anyone that I made “better friends” with guys than with girls, I really wasn’t grasping the complexities that were involved with being friends with people who had previously been attracted to me. All I knew was that it was a different sort of attention that I got, that I didn’t have to or want to reciprocate, but that I enjoyed receiving.

(of course, a couple of those guy friends are still my close friends today, because there was none of that weird attraction on their part nor attention seeking on my part, and that’s probably why we are still friends, because we treated each other like human beings)

I enjoyed being friends with guys. I enjoyed it because at that time I saw my best friend blossom and start to get attention from guys all over the place - dates and text messages and praise and flattery, while I would get nothing. And at the time I was so angry at her about it. I was so jealous. At the deep dark core inside of me, I realized because it was because I wasn’t worth as much, because I wasn’t as beautiful (no matter how effed up that reasoning was - I was 16 and that’s what sixteen year olds unfortunately think). And I patted myself on the back for having “real” friends who weren’t my friends because of my looks or whatever, but in reality I was kinda doing the same thing. Human beings are complicated, and there’s never just one reason we do anything. But I think one of the reasons I really enjoyed making friends with boys (as opposed to nurturing the relationships with my girl friends) was because it was one of the only ways I could get any attention from boys - but if I’m honest with myself, I never really had all that much fun sitting around and watching them play Xbox.  

I realize now that what happened was that I just always valued my friendships with boys over my friendships with girls. Was it because I was insecure around girls? I don’t know. I always felt that I had nothing to offer really, and that every other girl I knew was more charming and talented than me, and everyone knew it. I would hate when my best friend would come to things, because I knew everyone would pay attention to her and not to me. All I needed was to be a bit more confident and concentrate on being myself, and someone to tell me that I was important too, but only a few of those guy friends were ever genuine enough to encourage that kind of behavior. Most of the time they would subtly egg on this gross female competition. This is just What We Did, as teenagers. And I think I’ve moved past it, for the most part, thank God. My best friend is still my best friend, and after the awkwardness of a few years in high school we’ve grown to be close enough that we can tell each other anything. But even today, I find it easier to make friends with boys - my closest Japanese friend is a boy (if only because I’m totes in love with him).

For a long time I mourned my inability to make friends with Japanese girls. I desperately wanted to talk to Japanese girls about dating and clothes and being a girl (things I’m Very Much Interested In these days), but I found it hard to get past the first few superficial conversations. And now, I have a group of girls that I’ve gotten to know, who have graciously accepted me in their group and genuinely seem to like me for me, not just because I am the Foreign Girl. But I’m plagued by doubt that I will do something wrong, and I’ll break some Japanese Rule, and they’ll hate me forever. As I admitted to my friend H in her car once, “It’s hard enough to be friends with girls without the added cultural barrier, you know?”

But I know, deep down in my heart, the support I’ve gotten from my girl friends (and those few genuine guy friends) throughout the years has made me a lot stronger than sitting around watching Boys I Like play video games.  And that’s why I think I always kept trying.

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In the midst of a party at a local izakaya for the new JETs in Iwate, I got a message from A, and I couldn’t stop smiling as soon as I saw the kanji characters representing his name on my little cell phone screen. We had already agreed to hang out during the weekend, so his message, “Are you free tomorrow? let’s go out to lunch!” left me pleasantly surprised. I’m still so unsure sometimes, that he even likes me, because he doesn’t give the cues I’m used to seeing from boys who like me (and I’m not sure I’m giving enough of the ones that say I like him, because I’m scared, and nervous, and…), but other times I realize he’s been giving the cues; they were just too subtle for me to pick up at the time.

(and he’s Japanese, so it’s not like I can, god forbid!, ask him outright!)

(or maybe that’s just an amanda problem)

“I’m free, lunch sounds fun~” I texted back, attaching stars and smiley faces to be cute. I’ve gotten to the point where a naked sentence (ie, a normal sentence with proper punctuation and everything!) feels odd to me - I’ve gotta paste a star or a doodad or some other emoticon my phone has in its memory. I’m just following what everyone else does (and some girls do it worse than me, even if they are cute in their sparkly excess), but sometimes I miss the days when it was normal to just write a simple text, you know, one that says what you mean without having to dress it up or hide it with silly cell phone hooha.

(uh then again, when what you “mean” is to meet at 7:30 for a movie, you don’t really need to stress “honesty in text messaging” now do you?? i mean, that’s what i used my phone for in 2005, i dunno know about all yall)

“Let’s meet at 12 in the lobby” I responded again, attaching a few hearts. Even if I’m not brave enough to say “I like you” out loud, maybe I can convey it through hearts. Folks, I think I’ve touched on the Japanese ideal. I think this is it. I imagine myself a bold, frank person (after all, I let you fine people know everything from my breakup stories to when I’m taking a dump), yet in real life I still manage to be the same girl from high school who couldn’t be brave enough to confess to the boy she liked. I felt like I shouldn’t have to say it. If it’s meant to be, words aren’t needed. I don’t know if that’s a good way to feel or not, but in Japan I feel like everyone is on the same page regarding (a lack of) talking about our feelings.

“Okay, great - I’m thinking of the place by Sakurayama Shrine,” he replied, with a little twister at the end of the sentence. A twister(??). Ok, guys. I can only participate in this little wordless game called Japanese society if I know the meaning behind these little symbols and cues that they use instead of words! But somehow, I thought as I sipped my drink and chatted with the new JETs, it was okay. It’s this mystery that keeps everything fun.

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I know it’s cheesy and self-absorbed, but every time I’m feeling down, I just remember that I’m not the first girl who’s tried to make it on her own. I know it’s impossible to be as kind and bubbly as a tv character, but it doesn’t hurt to have something to aim towards. Besides, the great thing about Mary was that she was actually interested and invested in other people’s wellbeing. She certainly didn’t have a blog dedicated to herself, for one thing.

Unfortunately my apartment will never be as well-kept and as clean as her’s. But we all pick and choose things, don’t we!

 どうしたら自分のことを大好きになれるんだろうなんて　

I was in Tokyo on business - I had to do some interpreting for a high-up official, but it was only for about 20 minutes and then they neglected to write me into the rest of the itinerary. It would have been interesting to be more of a part of this cavalcade, or whatever, but either way I had fulfilled my role (and my interpreting skills luckily got me through without embarrassing me). The man from the airport division bowed, “Well, your time is done. Why don’t you spend some time in Ginza, have a nice lunch, before you head back?”

And once again, I was alone in Tokyo.

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March 3rd was Hinamatsuri , Japan’s day of celebration for girls where everyone puts out beautiful little dolls and eat sugar candies colored white, pink, and pale green. “If you don’t put out the dolls,” C-san started gravely, “your daughter may not get married until she is very old.” She said this as she steeped instant coffee in dainty, precious tea cups, and I vaguely wondered if maybe I would never get married. After all, my mother had not even known to put out hina ningyo dolls. C-san had put her ornate set out in the beginning of February, and she didn’t even have a daughter.

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The chocolate I bought for you for Valentine’s Day is sitting in a crumpled bag on my floor, because I haven’t got the guts to hand it to you, even as a joke, even as a light hearted token of our “friendship”, even as a representation of my feelings for you that I know you will never return. It’s because I haven’t got the heart to see you accept it awkwardly, uncomfortably, to see that little look in your eyes that makes it clear that no, actually, you have no intention of dating me and you can’t understand where I would make that conclusion. The chocolates are sitting there along with the Christmas gift I never gave you, collecting dust, staring back at me for a couple more months before I decide I’ve had enough wallowing and just throw them out.

I’m not depressed that it’s Valentine’s Day and I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m depressed that the season of luv has prompted everyone and their mother to tell me just how unworthy I am of you, and just how deluded I was to ever think that we could work. I don’t want a boyfriend, I want you. Maybe because I can’t have you, I dunno. I used to think it was just the proximity, that you just came into my life at the right moment, and it would have happened with anyone, but I don’t think so. We get along too well, we have too much in common, and I’ve tried and failed to meet other guys and it hasn’t worked. Something clicked inside of me when I met you, something that hadn’t for a very long time.

I just can’t seem to reconcile with the fact that everytime I am with you, just you, my life seems brighter and things seem better, yet everyone is telling me you feel not one thing for me, and that it’s obvious. It breaks my heart that one day I was smiling like an idiot and then the next I was crying my eyes out. And I can’t deal with the back and forth any more. Not for someone who I haven’t even held his hand. You’re going to be a blip on my life story, the first guy I had feelings for after a long, serious relationship ended. Your meaning to me will gradually fade, and I’ll be able to laugh and call you my “rebound,” something that needed to happen but wasn’t important. And I’ll forget how important you are to me, someday. Because that’s the only way I can live with the fact that you, perfect you, will never feel a tenth of what I feel. I just hope…you know how special you are.

IWATE REPORT 2009

Well, we are rounding out the end of 2009 - a year of lots of things, that happened! At one point! Just think, at the start of this year I was neurotic about the JLPT and the JET results, in the middle of the year I was neurotic in finding a last-chance-job because JET wasn’t working out, and now, at the end of the year, I am neurotic about… nothing! I am navigating the treacherous waters of “Dating and Socializing in your 20s” but that, my friends, is something that I am loving! Even when it doesn’t work out! Which is 100% of the time! It’s just amazing the change that has happened over the past 5 months, and I’m willing to bet that the next year here will be hotter, wilder, and just plain better. Who else can say that about their JET placement, huh!?

I remember that I was so worried about my Japanese, my perceived incompetence, and my relative isolation at the start of August, but gosh, all those worries have really dried up over the past few months. I’m getting better and better at Japanese, I’m totally comfortable in my work environment (in no small part due to my pantheon-class coworkers), and I have plenty of friends (even if they are a bit flakey). I’m not going to lie, I’m not fantastic at my job and there are plenty of communication difficulties, which is why I’m going to work on my Professional Goals this next year! But isn’t that wonderful? I have time. I don’t have to be frantic about my future. Senior year was such a black hole, where I only concentrated on the future and couldn’t find time to be happy with my present. As long as I don’t lose sight of my future goals and momentum, I have to time to just live here - which I think has been the best part of all about Iwate.

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I’ve been doing so many things that I just don’t do. I’ve been acting so out of character. And what for? I think I know the reason, but I’m not really sure. I’m the most confused I’ve ever been in my life. It’s not Japan; the Japan part, the work part, has been going wonderfully. Why can’t I just concentrate on that? Why is my self-esteem and self-respect in such a bad place right now? The worst part is I don’t even want to be so wah-wah about this all. It’s not worth it. Nothing really is. But I can’t. I can’t stop angsting, and it feels ten tons worse than it ever did as a teenager.

Everytime I start feeling really good about myself, I do something to take it way way down. I know better, but I do it anyway. I’ve never acted out this way before, and I don’t want it to get worse. I feel like I want to take responsibility for whatever I’ve done, but I can never apologize for it all. I feel like some weird creature has taken over my body everytime I start hanging out with a certain group of people and start drinking. I think the only way for me to feel better is to just cut that shit out.

The real reason I can’t be honest about all this stuff is the reason I’m so messed up. I’m pretty sure of it. And I’m not sure how to change that part.

A lot of the reason I don’t update this blog very often is because I am completely consumed with my (lack of a) love life. I don’t think anybody especially wants to read about my screw-ups with the opposite sex and just how childish I still am when it comes to interacting with people I am attracted to. And yes, I have a DEAR DIARY type book that I write these things in everyday, which has been great. I experience plenty of wonderful, happy moments here that have nothing to do with boys and everything to do with me, my job, and Japan, but I end up writing a short note about it in my diary and I move on. I don’t feel the need to tell everyone about how awesome my boss is and the great time I had doing a lecture on international exchange to high schoolers because I’m not focused on it. The things that are interesting to me here have everything to do with me and not really much to do with Japan. I want to change that, but then I don’t really. There’s a lot of things I think I really want to change, but deep down I don’t actually because I never make any move to change them.

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I think one of the most important things I’ve realized lately is that Your Japan is not My Japan. One of the things that peeves me the most is a (white) (male) blogger expounding on the way Japan Is, and What You Should Expect, as if his experiences were the only experience foreigners could have in this country. I realize a lot of English speaking foreigners in Japan are white men, so yes. Maybe they would have similar experiences. I dunno. But do you have to talk about it in such a general, awful way? Japanese people are this, Japanese people are that. Cool, let’s keep stereotyping in the exact same way that we hate when it’s done to us. Basically, I am talking about the Japan Know It All (because this is MY Japan, dammit!).

And it’s not just guys, lest my sexist generalization about white dudes who blog ’bout Japan fool you. One of the worst things nipping at us gaijin gals in Japan is this article written by this western woman a couple years back about Relationships with Japanese Dudes. Now listen. This is important! There’s plenty of info for Western Dudes getting with Japanese girls. It’s the reason a lot of them are here, after all (yay, generalization! to be honest, I have not met one guy here that has said, “I’m in it for the poon.”). But you know what! I heard Japanese guys and western girls don’t get together! Ever! So to have some sort of anecdotal evidence was pretty compelling, to me. 

(don’t get me started how western women often come here and state immediately, “I have no interest in Japanese guys.” Whatever. We have our preferences. But I don’t think it helps that western guys here always pressure us girls not to date Japanese either, shouting, “yo, Japanese guys are shallow, weak, and too pretty. Basically they are gross. Also, they all have tiny peepees. Meanwhile, I’m busy with the Japanese ladies, and you are alone! Haha! Got you back for years of rejection from other, unrelated women in America!” Again, I haven’t met this theoretical Awful Person but I will let you know when I do.)

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