The End...

Unfortunately, no happily ever after involved.

I finally did it. Or I guess we finally did. What you may ask? The other big milestone in a relationship, after the L-word and the engagement leading to that happily-ever-after: the breakup.

It happened a few weeks ago. It was pretty good as far as those things go: no recriminations, no bad feelings. We simply realized that we weren't getting what we needed from one another and that if we were to stay in it longer, the good will we had for each other would deteriorate into frustration and resentment, if not worse.

So, we ended on a good note, and we're still 'friends'. Though I am relieved that one of the benefits of having a long-distance relationship is that now, we won't accidentally run into one another on the street. As things stand, we don't have plans to see one another until August for a concert.

I've broken down a few times, but usually I'm fine. I don't know if it's because I'm blocking it out, living in denial because I don't have to deal with it. I don't have to see him. I've definitely been acting out afterward, but in a much healthier way than I used to previously. No making out with random boys, just starting violin lessons and going to badminton every week.

I still have feelings for him, but I know that it would be pointless to try to get back together, at least not while the situation remains the same: living hours and prefectures apart. Who knows what might happen in the future? Maybe we'll end up living together in France, maybe we'll end up together after all. But it's a future I'm not holding my breath for. Rather, I take one breath after another with each subsequent day helping to heal my bruised, but not broken heart.

A Blood-Red Flower

I know I'm a few days late, but I just thought I'd share some love and my favorite quote on the subject. It's from a book by Olive Shriner:

"I don't know much about love," she said, "and I do not like to talk of things I do not understand; but I have heard two opinions.

Some say that the Devil carried the seed from hell, and planted it on the earth to plague men and make them sin; and some say that when all the plants in the garden of Eden were pulled up by the roots, one bush that the angels had planted was left growing, and it spread its seed over the whole earth, and its name is love.

I do not know which is right, perhaps both. There are different species that go under the same name. There is a love that begins in the head, and goes down to the heart, and grows slowly; but it lasts until death, and it asks less than it gives. There is another love, that blots out wisdom, that is sweet with the sweetness of life and bitter with the bitterness of death, lasting for an hour; but it is worth having lived a whole life for that hour.

I cannot tell, perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower with the color of sin, but there is always the scent of a god about it."

Happy Valentine's all, I hope you appreciate (and smell) love in its many forms.

The L Bomb

Sooooo...I dropped it the other weekend.

If you don't have any idea what that means, I'll give you a hint. It refers to a particular boy from Seattle/Wenatchee, currently residing in Gunma. Get it now?

It had nearly slipped out a few times when we were saying goodbye online and on Skype while I was in Seattle. Nearly, but I managed to catch myself since that's not really something you say for the first time when you're on the other side of the largest ocean in the world, unless of course, you permanently live on opposite shores. Luckily, we don't and he's in Japan, albeit 6 hours away.

My flight came in on the afternoon of the 6th. We met up in Tokyo station and trained it back to my house together. I was going to start school the next day, luckily just opening ceremony scheduled, but he had about an extra week so he decided to spend it with me, even though I'd be working during the day.

Actually it worked out quite well because, while it began with a joke about him being my 'house-husband', after he went out for some errands and we made dinner together, he decided that he rather preferred it. Which was good because when I tried to do the same thing at the end of summer vacation, I concluded that I wasn't cut out for the housewife lifestyle. Seriously though, it wouldn't be such a bad situation: he, being a writer, could write and run errands during the day while I, as a chef, would work and 'bring home the bacon'.

I guess it was those thoughts of the future, as well as his sending me flowers in Seattle for our anniversary AND flowers to my family for the holidays, that prompted me to say those very scary, very fragile three words.

For the first few days, it had been on my mind but like I said, they are scary words to utter, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to say them. I came close a few times, but always shied away. Finally, one night we were in my goro-goro room, since the kerosene heater was there, and I missed sleeping in a futon after three weeks of being in my Seattle bed. We had hung out for most of the day, played a game of shogi (Japanese chess), and I was lying on top of him when he asked (as we routinely do of one another), "Why do you put up with me?" I hesitated for a minute, looked into his eyes and replied, "Because I love you."

I've never been more scared of anyone's reaction. My boyfriends have always said it to me first and that takes off an unbelievable amount of pressure. Of course, I guess I didn't really need to worry about it because he reacted in typical fashion: treated it like a joke and poked my nose. Not that I was really expecting him to say it back either. I just felt like, my feelings were what they were, *disirregardless* of his feelings, and I wanted him to know how I felt.

Space and Perspective: Retroactive Post

I began our break thinking: This is about giving him time to see if he can commit to me, and that maybe we need this because we need to do something different. Haven't we spent enough time thinking, talking, waiting? Maybe action is what we need. After all, it's been a year since he first got here.

Then my thoughts became: Oh god, three months is a long time. What if he finds someone new? What if he was right and this really is the end? despite my natural optimism that if we're really meant to be, if we're really as good for each other as I think we are, it will work out and we WILL be together.

Which led to: I miss him. I don't want to do this. I can't do this for three months. This sucks, and I can't think of anything else except for him and how I'm not going to have any of those moments with him for a long time.

After emails of articles that I probably shouldn't have sent, for the simple reason that I had to question my intentions for doing so (something which he later called me on), and him contacting me online after days spent hoping/dreading that I would see him, I sent out an SOS to my friend Vandy.

Talking with her finally made me realize that this break is really about him and completely changed my perspective about it. I am finally okay with giving him space because I'm seeing him like a friend for the first time. I really do care about him, maybe even love him, but because of that I can let him go, for his own good.

I've underestimated how much living in Japan has taken its toll on him. All of my efforts have served to do the opposite of what I intended. I know that he hasn't wanted to treat me like a crutch, he is really independent and for all that I offer to help, it doesn't. Because that's not what he needs.

He just needs to know that I'm here for him if he needs me, but not to press it on him. That was what he meant about wanting me to sit there, or hold him and not say anything. All of his energy has gone into dealing with Japan, and he doesn't have anything left for me, which is why he hasn't been able to give me more, why he thinks that he CAN'T give me more.

I've realized that this all has more to do with him and Japan and not me, not us. It's not US that's the problem: it's US in JAPAN. He's tried to tell me that, but I haven't been able to understand, or maybe I've just thought that he hasn't had the balls to tell me he doesn't really want to be with me, that he's just been using Japan as an excuse.

Which is why, I've come to the point that even if he doesn't want to be with me in three months, if he really can't, I'm all right with that. I want him to be happy, I want to give him the time and the space to really develop a life here, one that he's happy with, one that doesn't frustrate him because he feels more like a child and instead of an adult.

Maybe that's the resentment that I've been sensing. It's resentment, as if my help is more like condescension. Vandy said that maybe we both need to learn from one another, to learn how to deal with solving problems in a different way, and that maybe he needs to learn a little from me about talking about them, and I need to learn a little from him about being more patient.

So on that note, I think I'm ready. Ready to wait, to REALLY wait for him, because I think he's worth it. I just hope that he realizes that he is too.

Paris, Je T'aime: Retroactive Post

Today I hurried home and prepared the different layers for the vegetarian lasagne I was making for tomorrow, so that I could catch the train to Shiz and watch a movie that Albert had told me about. Albert had heard about it from Bradford, who had seen it last week. He told me about it because it was a French movie showing in Shiz city and as such, figured I'd be interested.

I knew nothing about it, so a visit to its Wiki entry and the theater's website was in order. I was pleasantly surprised to find that one of my favorite actresses, Natalie Portman was in it, along with a medley of other actors. So, I decided to catch the 7pm showing, no matter the state of my household. I went and managed to find it fairly easily, sat down and prepared to watch yet another film in French with subtitles I couldn't understand, because this was Japan and not the US. There were points in the movie where I looked to the Japanese for help with the French, but after a while, I forgot about them.

The movie is actually a compilation of 18 short films set in 18 of the 20 arrondissements of Paris, focusing on what else but love in the city of Amour? But not simply love in the fashion of the next Hollywood romantic comedy (or love-com as the Japanese call it), though there was certainly some of that. Rather, it focused on love in its myriad forms, sometimes tragic, sometimes uplifting, sometimes disappointing, joyful, heart-breaking, as complex as a decades-long marriage or as simple as a haircut. And all of this is reflected in the city as well.

Albert is right in telling me that I need to learn as much about France, French and Paris as I can before I go there, in order to avoid the jarring pain of the real Paris as it meets the Paris of my dreams, thoughts and heart. But seeing this movie made me feel like the character in the last story, a fellow American with a terrible accent writing in French that she loves Paris and hopes that it will love her back.

At one point in the movie, I was nearly overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness, felt more keenly perhaps because I had spoken to Travis this morning and had been wishing for some company, especially his, during the movie. But by the end of it, I felt better for having seen it alone. It allowed me to engross myself in the movie, in Paris, that by the time I left the theater, I felt a different kind of culture-shock. With my head swimming with French and thoughts of a foreign country, I had to deal with the reality that I WAS in a foreign country, just not the one I had been looking at.

All of a sudden, I had to remember I was in Japan, not Seattle; that this wasn't my city, my country, my home. But then I realized that while Seattle no longer feels that way and that Japan feels more and more comfortable with the passing months, it's still not quite right. But I ask myself, Will France be any different? Or will I feel the way about France as I do Japan once I move after living here for at least a few years? Will any place ever feel 'Right' again, or is that something I've given up in exchange for the novelty of travel?

I guess we'll see. But for now, Paris, je t'aime.

My Birthday!: Retroactive Post

Hey all,

Had to post this because it contains two of my favorites, wrapped up into one:
My favorite TV show ever, and those of you who know me well enough already know that the answer is: Farscape, and my favorite song is '23' by Jimmy Eat World. I was just thinking about how appropriate this is since I'll be turning 23 on the 23rd, the only time that this'll ever happen in my lifetime. So, this is mostly for me rather than anyone else, but I guess, five, ten, fifteen years down the line, I can look at this post and remember the Sarah of now. Enjoy, and maybe it'll give you a bit of insight into me.

Lonely Dreams