By the end of January I have to tell my school whether or not I'll be staying in Japan for the next year, that is, until the summer of 2010.  Last year's decision was much easier than this one.  At this point last year, I had only been in Japan for half a year, which really didn't seem like enough time.  As it turned out, it wasn't.  But now, a year and a half in, I have to decide about the next year and a half.  It seems like the stakes are a lot higher this time around, and I really am twisting in the current.  

I had intended to write a regular update email to my friend Eric, but what came out instead is interesting, to me.  Hopefully it will be interesting to you, too.  I sent it out over a month ago, and upon re-reading it, it's still a good representation of how I feel.  So, here it is, word for word:

The fact is, I am at a crossroads Eric.  The only reason that I wouldn't stay in Japan for another year, and maybe more, is because I would think I was wasting my talents and not paying my dividends.  Perhaps it is strange of me to think of myself as a commodity, but I feel like I owe it to so many people to follow the gold-paved path and make some bank (editor's note - money).  My grandparents and parents and relatives have invested in my education throughout the years, and, if I put my foot on the gas, I could probably have the 'successful,' 'easy,' life that they had always envisioned someone in our family finally getting.  I could be the realization of making more than enough money to be comfortable, and doing so without using my hands.  In fact, my whole generation, including my three cousins, are primed for that step in (excuse the sappy reference) the Polish-American immigrants' dream.

But, the truth is, I am comfortable now.  No, I can't care for anyone else, and at this rate I'll have to work my whole life, but I am quite comfortable.  I have no job stress, aside from the pressure to make ready-to-graduate Japanese high school seniors interested in English.  I have no living stresses.  I stay at work if I want.  I go home if I want.  I do what I want when I want.  I live in a really beautiful environment, besides the wolf-deer.  (editors note - When Eric came to Japan, for one day I had to work and I let him loose, alone, on my fair city of Kitakami.  He biked up into the mountains and there was 'attacked' by some sort of creature.  In his efforts to get away, he didn't get a good look at the beast.  He described it as some sort of hideous cross between a rabid jaguar and a fierce boar.  It turned out it was a deer.)

In general, I feel like in Japan I can be the person that I want to be (and hopefully really am) more than I ever could in America.  I feel free and easy.  I feel like everything I do, even shopping, is an adventure.  It's a wonderful feeling.

It's ok to make a new personality, to strip the American Derek to the bone and build up again with a 'Japanese' coat.  If I go back to America now, I'll just find my old coat and put it back on.  I'll lose that everyday sense of adventure that leads me to talk to strangers and climb mountains and travel on weekends and dance stupid and play ridiculous games in public and do shotty (editors note - blowing hookah smoke into other people's mouths) with other dudes and play in a band live for people (Matt and I have formed a Whitestripes cover band.  We've played for people, not in a club or anything yet, but we will get there soon...) and start a book group to read and discuss Brothers Karamazov or wear a penguin suit and look like a fool in front of 200 high school kids.  I can do all those things back in New York, or anywhere in America for that fact.  But I probably won't.  I understand that that doesn't say a lot about my personal conviction to be unique and explosive and chase what I really feel is fun, regardless of other people's perceptions, but if its the anonymity of living in Japan that I need to do so, then so be it, no?

Sometimes it feels like a cop-out, though.  I should be able to do those things in New York.  I always had fun in America, no matter where I was.  Before I left for Japan, I was so sad about leaving America.  Leaving my family, the house I knew, understanding what signs say, you, Jen...  But very quickly I forgot about all that.  Quicker than any transition I ever made, in fact.  All I know is that when I was on the plane from Tokyo to JFK for Peter's wedding, and I was 'leaving' Japan, I was very, very sad.  I was sadder than when I made the reverse flight a year before.  AND I KNEW I WAS COMING BACK IN A WEEK!  I can't even imagine what it would be like to leave for good.

Well...  Sorry.  I had intended to write a couple of funny/interesting stories, but I got lost in this one.  I promise I'll write again soon with water-cooler banter.

Derek