Groundless.

In these final months in Vancouver, I reflect: I'm homeless. If I think about it, the only thing that binds me to Japan is my citizenship and my physical attributes, and my undying appreciation for its food. Even my bloodline is groundless: half-Korean, quarter-Chinese, and quarter-Japanese. It makes me an Asian mutt. Allegedly I don't even appear Japanese. I remember those days during grade school when I would commute via the train, and I would get curious--that's a euphemism--looks and glances from other Japanese commuters. All in all, my Japanese passport makes me a Japanese citizen. But, a thoroughly western education makes me something else that's not at all Japanese. Sure, I suppose I am 'going back' to Tokyo, but it's not like I have an actual 'home'--in both the physical and metaphorical sense--to return to, let alone a cohesive family. I feel like I'm more of a visitor than a returnee.

I left Tokyo four years ago to come to Vancouver for university. Some would say that my decision was quite the jump, even a courageous thing to do. Thanks, I'll take the compliment and saturate my egoism in them for a little while. But really, it wasn't such a big deal, because I didn't leave anything all that valuable, other than my scattered family members. Friends were gone, the apartment in which we lived was gone, my belongings were all gone, my piano was gone. And with it went all the baggage that was attached to them. Leaving Tokyo was like finally cleaning up your room and purging it of all the unnecessary debris. I took all my valuables with me, mostly. Some pictures, but not very much. Some books. Clothes. CD's (it was just before the mp3 era). Money. And of course, that goddamn passport that, four years later, would drag me back to 'home', as some people would call it. Except, I don't, of course.

So here it is, four years later, with my fucking Japanese passport and my Canadian student visa. Only this time, I feel like I'm having to start life anew against my will. In four years I've grown some roots here, and although I don't feel like I'll ever adapt to the Canadian work ethic or smoke weed 24/7, Vancouver's the closest city to what an average person may call 'home'. And now, once again, I'm having to leave it. It's exciting, you say? Sure, life can be exciting when things are changing, when accidents happen, and of all people I think I'm more psychologically equipped to appreciate accidents when they happen, because my whole life has been an accident (my birth was, at least). But accidents only make your life exciting when you have a home base to return to, not just to remind you of your roots, but so that you have a reference point. A family to return to, that same room whose door you can shut behind you, that same bed you can collapse onto and smell the same scent of clean laundry. When you have all that, accidents are great changes that awaken your senses to a swirling world of excitement. It allows you to appreciate all that is stable and all that is changing. Tokyo in August is just another accident for me, like all the others that have built my life. I didn't ask for that. But I guess I didn't ask to be born in this life, either.

I'm not whining; just laying out the reality of what it's like, since only a selected few would ever understand--afterall, we live very differently. Despite all the negatives I enjoy my life in the moments I try to make the best out of difficult situations. But don't tell me that I've got to appreciate these changing times, because it's what makes life interesting and exciting. You have no idea what groundlessness does to you. You're always losing, most literally. Meeting people and saying goodbye--story of my life! Creating something great and then having to leave it--even if it were a life's work. Add to that a myriad of identity crises. You almost have to build up a level of impermeable superficiality to deal with it, so that you can maintain somewhat of a core to what you think is who you are. Could you really imagine yourself in constant flux. I mean, your entire self. Your values always in question, your personality always trying to adjust, your life style always altering. Do you even know what it's like? And excitement! Excitement in my life is the least of my concerns. Go ahead and enjoy that, but I'm truly tired of it. I really am.
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whistler -- vancouver's disneyland. And recordings!

For the second time in four years, I went up to Whistler. The first time, I tried snowboarding -- a painful experience it was. So painful that, on the second day, I took my volleyball kneepads because I couldn't fathom falling on my knees ever again.

Whistler village, though, is a world on its own. Kind of like Disneyland. People go there to yes, enjoy all the winter sports that Blackcomb and Whistler mountains have to offer, but down in the foothills of these great mountains is an entire village devoted to shopping, eating, drinking, clubbing, and more shopping. There's a GAP, a Roots, a Guess store and even a Lululemon store (why anyone would wear lululemon pants in snow-weather, I have no idea). A handful of coffee shops (including 3 Starbucks), a couple of high-end grocery stores and several pretty nice restaurants of various cuisines adorn the village paths that all truly look the same. And of course, atop these stores and restaurants are private townhomes and condos--all up for grabs, for about 2 million dollars and up. Hotel room prices in the Village, of course, fare no less. It really is no wonder that the 2010 Olympics would be hosted here; in fact, Whistler is such an appropriate location!

In any case, the reason for my trip to Whistler was a youth band/choir music festival that was taking place there. The Asia tour band from UBC went up there as, I suppose, guest performers, as well as the Vancouver Gospel Choir -- these guys were pretty awesome. An okay trip.

Right now I'm listening to a recording of our most recent concert, Artunian trumpet concerto, Music for Prague (we destroyed, in the most literal sense, the third movement), and Pines of Rome. Mmm. The fourth movement of Prague sounds actually alright...surprising. I got this CD and a DVD of one of our Taipei concerts, which I'm looking forward to watching later this afternoon. Hopefully that will turn out to be a good surprise as well.
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new sidetalk and an uncharming sidewalk

I decided to add a sidetalk--it is located in the right column of this page. Titled "Bookshelf," this section will be updated every now and then to inform you about what I am reading, what I finished, and what I (do not) recommend. I'm sorry in advance if I give away things about the book, but I'll definitely try not to.

My landlord gave me a call today and left a message. She said that the neighbors complained about our unmowed lawn. Our neighbors?! I don't know why the fuck they would care about how our lawn looks, but according to my roommate apparently they complained last year as well--it reflects upon the image of the neighborhood, they argued. What a ridiculous thought. To think that a single lawn could make a neighborhood's image uncharming--who ever thought of such things? If you thought the lawn could have such disastrous effects, you should look at this house! Of all the beautifully renovated, colourful houses on this street, this one (that I live in) is shabby-looking, old, and its paint is peeling. Lawn? Lawn?? Good heavens, fuck the lawn. Burn the house!!
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overrated secret societies

I resisted for months to read this book. I finally gave in after too many nudges that I have to read it. So I read the The Da Vinci Code after I finished my thesis, expecting that it would be a quick, fun read, which indeed it was. Perhaps a bit overrated. Secret societies and the mystery surrounding the Holy Grail is appealing and intriguing and eye-catching for sure, and its suspense was enough to warrant finishing it. But at the same time, its more obvious progression of events and plot development turned me off by a third of the way into the book. And of course the ending was slightly abrupt and anticlimatic. If you thought this was the best book you've ever read, you're clearly not much of a bookworm. Well, to each its own.

A moneymaker for sure, however. Something tells me that writing about God makes money. It is probably the ethereal that enchants us all, the desire to learn something new about the unknown.

Next book: Maia.
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