And while I'm writing...

I guess I should note that I have about three months left in Japan. Three months, after almost three years. The frogs are chorusing nonstop, and they'll only get louder. I remember one time, maybe last year, when I woke up at 3am because the frogs had finally stopped for a moment.

Time stopped for me here. I feel ageless. Twenty...something. Not because I don't want to face becoming an adult, but because it really doesn't matter. 23? 25? 36? Doesn't make a damn difference. I remember setting a low, humble goal--learning how to be happy. It was more of a desperate grab, after the mess that was university, but I knew I needed a goal of some sort. Happiness was a good place to start.

I can do that now, along with a few other things--read a bar menu, navigate a few train stations. I'm not fully integrated in my community, but that's partially because I guarded my freedom. No extra-curriculars (buubuu--failed, I'm currently on musical number two), no taiko, pottery, dance, music...nothing. I miss having hobbies and passions, but I don't miss coming home at 11pm after two or three meetings or rehearsals.

I'm disappointed that I haven't done more, but then I look at this past weekend: I went to town late on Friday (tired and uninspired), Saturday was lunch-rehearsal-birthday party, Sunday was rehearsal and dinner with a friend, and then we passed out. That was a full weekend, and I didn't even leave the city. No, I needed to slow down, regardless of all the facinating things I'm missing. These past three years are unique because I'm in Japan, but they're also precious because I can be free. I'm going to miss that a whole bunch.