Ten years ago, I began a blog while studying abroad in Amsterdam.
For whatever reason, something triggered me to come back to this thing and I remember being wittier than I perceive myself now. What happened to the old Jen?

Amongst the panic and hysteria…(and the serious decline in health from worry and stress [and understandably so])…

Following closely the news and updates regarding the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant (due to the intense concerns about what may result) and the earthquake and tsunami-hit areas, I’m supremely impressed with Japan, both its citizens and denizens, and communities outside of Japan.

According to NHK World news online, individuals involved in the emergency teams designated to Fukushima Daiichi deserve to be commended. At least, I would like to hug each of them and would gladly give them my last portions of rice, bread or milk (if you are living in the Kanto area, you will know that these are worth their weight in gold). Not only have they been risking their own health amidst unstable situations for the general safety of the residents of the land, but the power company has increased the maximum limit of radiation outside workers exposed to from 100 to 150 milli-sieverts. Also, the Japanese Health Ministry has increased the limit to 250 milli-sieverts. (http://www3.nhk.or.jp/daily/english/19_07.html) Getting mentally prepared for doing what they are doing …is nothing I can even imagine (and I consider my imagination so active and vivid on a daily basis it scares and amazes me constantly).

Meanwhile, the Kanto area is experiencing scheduled blackouts about 1-2 times daily and this is expected to continue for the next several weeks. There are also horrid queues for petrol and, what my teacher explains as, “white shortages,” i.e. shortages on toilet paper, tissues, milk, tofu, bread, rice and yogurt. Yet, I have heard no one complain. Not one complaint. “It’s difficult, isn’t it?” That’s the worst of it and even then, it’s served up with some optimistic side-dish.

Since the 9.0 earthquake, every conversation I have with members of the foreigner community around me has included a massive desire to DO something to help. National AJET has prepared a “Man up for Japan” relief fund, ALTs in Gunma are already mobilizing interested members for some type of clean up or aid, and every log-in into Facebook shows me a new fund raising effort initiated by some foreigner community in some prefecture.

Tonight, I started looking at reports about local communities back in LA, and there are candle-light vigils in Little Tokyo where I once worked, there are fund raising efforts and articles of support in the Rafu Shimpo and other Asian newspapers.

And just as the oily icing on the cake, Korea was not only one of the first countries to send man-power to assist Japan in its time of need, but they are sending 2.4 million barrels of oil to Japan to help meet the need, bringing the total shipments from Korea thus far to 4.5 million barrels. (http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/03/17/japan-jx-idUSTKZ00686520110317)

All parts I feel connected to – Japanese nationals, the foreigner community here, Korea, LA, the enclaves in LA – they all seem to be converging. That’s a feeling as rare as seeing a super full moon on the perigee side (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2d-sbWt2_ng) – photos to follow.

Great work, everyone…in the world.

coming to the close of year 4 of my writer’s block
and still waiting for rain
to fill my creative well.

i still miss that blank book
i lost in italy
somewhere,
it’s sitting on someone’s bookshelf
like the yearbook i rescued from the thrift store…
and someone is reading it
and wondering about its author.

even butterflies want to rest.

From October 31, 2009

had the most thorough security check in my life. metal detector went off when i went through so i required the detailed check.the JAL lady asked ‘touch ok?’ with a big smile (how can u say no to that).then frisked me for 5 min repeatedly with the metal detector wand at every possible angle. then asked showing her hands ‘touch ok?’ then frisked me with her hands at every possible angle …more like groped me at every angle…wait theres more. then…she showed her hands and said in Japanese ‘irete mo ii?’ (is it ok to enter?) then went into my pants and had a little vacation there. i hope the folks in line had a good show.
at least we know im not carrying weapons of mass destruction down my pants.

I was looking for an old poem I wrote in the early 2000s. It was about my grandmother, who raised me for a large portion of my formative years while my mother was out waiting tables. I think that poem is on my mother’s computer back in California…but here on my Japanese hard drive, I’ve found some blurbs I must have written …
long
long ago.

February 19, 2006

The last time I was with you, there were bright lights strung together by our combined breath and we were surrounded by images of blues and greens. Yet, the thing I remember most clearly is how unusually dry your hands were when I held them.

Now, in your absence, the lights have fallen. It seems that the strength of my breath is not enough to sustain the intensity of their glow. The coolness of greens and blues have faded to grey visual drones.

I sleep less now and what dreams I do have deceive me of your dry hands within mine.

You were the one to cajole me out of my silence, to encourage me to claim existence as the mighty declarative sentence. But now, the declarative sentence that once was, your absence has changed. The period that once stamped clearings for my existence became a comma and I anxiously awaited your return. Then, that comma turned into a question mark and that was the end of public declarations.

My hands are empty while your hands are filled with your curled up fingers. I wonder if your hands are dry still.

The journal you once posted is no longer updated and is a quandry to me. Has time stopped? I turn on my computer now, as is in my daily morning routine once I arrive at my office. I click to your journal and the morning news is as always. It is the same story. I had forgotten. Time had stopped.

I wish your hands were clammy again.

I miss blowing warm glows into the frost with you and watching them hover for long moments at a time. When you were with me, it was an effortless deed that came naturally. We used to blow bulbs of brightness into the thinness of air as easily as if we were simply breathing. We strung them together and spaced them out equidistant from each other to mark the timing of our breath. Each a whole note in each bar. We used to breathe in counts of four.

Shallow, my breaths punctuate this score sheet erratically. You were always the one to exhale and so I’m left holding my breath, letting go only when my lungs are distracted by flashing sepia-tinted images, metronomes, and biology.

taiko
really
really
makes
me
feel
awesome

i’ve been really fascinated by personal histories lately.
…

i’m improving
at life
i just have to
work
on
my
heart.

i humored the idea that it might not have made sense,
but really, i was sure that it would make sense.
my humored idea,
was
in fact
correct.

son of a mother.