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.