How time flies. And, at the same time, how time drags. I simultaneously feel as though I haven't been here long at all, and as though I have been here forever.
I have learned so much--or, perhaps, I have had a lot of things that I thought were true confirmed. For example, I can survive without my family. I knew this already, or else I wouldn't have come here in the first place, but it is nice to have my ability to live semi-independently confirmed.
I have learned that looking like an idiot will not kill me. I am fairly certain that I look like an idiot (definitely an oddity) on a daily basis. But, thanks to the "foreigners are guests" attitude in Japan, I have only been mocked for it a few times. I am sure that this attitude would drive me insane if I lived here for too long, but after a year, it's still quite nice.
I have learned more Japanese. There is nothing profound about this, really.
I can be happy and content with my life and myself. This was the big shocker, really, as I've struggled with depression and anxiety since high school (and probably before). I think that school is just an unhealthy environment for me, because I expect myself to be smart, do well, and have things come easily to me. And when they didn't, or when I failed to live up to my own expectations of awesomeness, I couldn't really deal. Here, in the semi-real world (I would not claim that living in a foreign country and teaching English is as hard as having a real job in the US), I can just try my best and be content that I am doing a good job. There is accountability, but there is not the same looming, overwhelming terror of failing.
And yet, I must also remind myself that much of this is an illusion, and is a part of the reason why some people end up settling down here permanently. I am special in Japan, for no other reason than that I am a foreigner--and not just any foreigner, but a white, blue-eyed foreign female. It is very, very easy to be seduced by this feeling; people are more interested in what I have to say. My adult students have almost all asked me if I have a boyfriend, and then demanded to know why not, when I'm "so cute" (let it be noted that I am average-looking). Just today, I was an object of much attention and astonishment when I went to a student's high school culture festival. I am special, just by being me.
But, horrible and ego-inflating as this "special foreigner feeling" can be, I think it might be good for me, as long as I can remember, at the end of the day, that it is nothing more than a temporary cultural illusion. I have never felt special, or unique, or talented (well, I knew I was smart growing up, but that was about it). And, well, if feeling good about myself is a habit I can get into while living in this mysterious land of foreigner-fascination, maybe it's something I can keep up when I eventually get back home.
To sum up the long-winded post: holy cow! I have been here for a year, and survived!
And now, a picture of two tenth-grade boys with pink T-shirts alien headbands, taken earlier today. Just because, well, this did not strike me as odd until after the fact. And that is a true sign that I have been here for a year.
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