Delusional Anagram Thursday

Delusional.

Ledusional.

Sudinoalle.

Unload isle.

Allies undo.

Ail nodules.

A duels loin.

Lone laid us.

Dial ole sun.

Use land oil.

Sun aloe lid.

El slain duo.

La nude silo.

An oil duel.

Denial soul.


(Now sing it to the tune of "Old MacDonald"...)

Small Town Blues

I have better pictures, taken in better light, of prettier motifs. But this one

reflects how I currently feel about this place. Crooked, bleak and ugly. 

No leaves. A passing car. Out of focus. Remnants of 60s architectural 

catastrophes mixed with once-grand buildings. 

I was born and raised in a small town, but it's been a while since I've been a small town girl. I've since gotten used to the comforts of a larger city - everything from coffee shops, cultural activities, public transportation and shopping; to the fact that you can go outdoors without having to expect to know everyone you meet - are perks of living in a city. Especially Tokyo spoiled me. The clean, efficient, exciting, huge-yet-local, multi-leveled, never-closed, mega-city has everything. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that Tokyo is probably - objectively speaking - the greatest city I have ever visited, and I'd be willing to claim it's also one of the greatest cities on this planet.

Thus coming back to my dozy hometown was a cultural shock in reverse.

Ugly tree, blocking an ugly view. 

Everything is too familiar. Everyone is too familiar. The few people I don't know, annoy me, in the same silly way it bothers me that I do know everyone else. It's too tight, too small, too close. I feel claustrophobic. Even the really good things about a small town - this small town - make me cringe. Local patriotism, enthusiasm, idealism, community spirit - I want nothing of it. Sitting in the audience for a local cultural event I feel a latent touch of Tourette arise in me. I have an urge to shout profanities at my fellow citizens, for being there, for talking giddily, for having the indecency to drink cheap wine and enjoy it when there is a whole world out there that is more, more, incredibly more. But I don't do it. Because I don't have Tourette syndrome; only a bad day.

Bridge. Connecting bleak with ugly since 1949. 

Ironically, the shock of finding myself in a small town has triggered a mild form of social angst. I don't want to meet these people. They are people I know. But they are strangers. I don't know them well - with the exception of a few family members - almost everyone I know know have left this place. Those that remain are more or less distant acquaintances, or they have become so after years of me growing out of this town, and them growing into it. People my age that stayed behind - I try not to look down on them, but I do. And I loathe myself for doing so. When I'm away I can control it; I don't think of them, of the town. But when I spend time here I remember. I'm glad it isn't me. Sad that I feel that way. And scared to realize that now - temporarily, I tell myself - it is me. I'm one of them. Even if it's only for a short period of time.

As cultural shocks are wont to do, it will wear off. I will remember why I survived - and for the most part liked - living here for 18 years. I will move on: the second I land a job I'm off. I will go back to view my hometown with ironic distance; a fondness born out of years of having had to deal with benefits and disadvantages of small town life, and then years escaping it. I've become a city girl.

This is a rather transparent attempt of adding the compulsory "positive" at the end of an otherwise negative post. 

Who AM I?!?

When we sat down to review our blog schedule last autumn, we decided to incorporate “Who am I?”-Fridays, where each and every one of us could describe a place, an activity or other things related to who we are and what we do, as a way of taking this blog to a more personal level (also – we realized we weren’t the best motivators, so “Motivational Friday” often risked turning into Demotivational Friday…).

Confused? Yeah, me too...

Anyway, due to a series of (fortunate?) events, today is my first “Who am I?” post, even though the feature has been running for a while on the blog, and regular visitors thus ought to be fairly familiar with it. I am, however, not. As I started pondering what to write under this headline, an existential crisis hit me. After all – what sort of a question is “Who am I?”, and how in the digressiosphere am I supposed to answer that in just a short blog post?!?!? (<-- Interro-KABOOM)

I suppose that part of the problem is that I’m in a difficult part of life in that respect. In December I finished my Master’s Degree, which means that I (probably) am done studying. This might not seem like a big deal to you, but to put it into perspective: I have been a student for the last 18 years (and to expand the perspective further: that is about ¾ of my entire life…). Without much time to think of the life-changing event that was, I rapidly started packing after having completed the degree, and left my home and country. Even though I’ve been to Japan before, it is still very much an extremely foreign country to me. The mega-city Tokyo even more so. I only have a temporary contract here, though, so come July I have absolutely no idea what I will do or where I will live (though I do have a plane ticket for Oslo, so chances are I will at least land there before making my way into the world again, if so should happen).

Thus, “who am I?” can in many ways be summed up in the following few key words: girl/woman, 25, Norwegian, nomad, educated but not enlightened, temporarily occupied but soon to-be unemployed, penniless, homeless, alien/gaijin, unbound, untied, untidy, unsure, unconvinced.

Blurry? Yeah, me too...

Don’t worry. I realize there are several advantages to many of these things, and at the moment I am appreciating them to the max. My lack of ties is what allowed me to take a leap and accept a position on the other side of the world. My nomadic tendencies can only be satisfied through traveling, and I appreciate my Norwegianness all the more if I leave my home country from time to time. Being unemployed is exciting, in a way, since it opens up all sorts of possibilities for future positions; and my current meager funding is probably useful in the long run: I could definitely do with a stricter financial plan.

Thus I am enjoying my identity crisis even if it wears on me. I realize that I will have plenty of time for the rest of my life to find stability (that’s it, isn’t it? What we all crave in one form or another – even if your particular brand of stability is called “variation”…). I will have a permanent home, a permanent job, a permanent life. “Temporary” will be a sweet memory from the past, and I am sure I will miss it once it’s gone. I try to remember this, and remember that I am privileged. I even try to remember that I enjoy my new (if temporary) life in Tokyo – the city, the job, the people, even the ascetic living quarters – and that I wouldn’t take back my decision to come here for all the digressions in the world.

Ah. Do you see a pattern? I am confused. That’s who I am. Confusion embodied, not certain whether I love my current state enough to enjoy it properly, or if the things I want in the future are calling my name so loudly I cannot ignore them.

Who am I (Friday)? Ask me again in March. Until then I only have to mull over Reading (Monday), Writing (Wednesday), current affairs (Topical Tuesday) or the occasional Delusion(al Thursday). They all seem like a piece of cake in comparison…

Uprooted? Yeah, me too...

Images:

#1: sneakily taken in a Japanese park. I would appreciate translations, as my current guess is: "Beware! Goose crying in sleep might result in shaky and teary cat and doglike creatures. Let's make happy with together!"

#2: blurrily taken from a tall, tall building, trying to capture the essence of "Tokyo by night". Frankly, I think I nailed it...

#3: shadily taken from www.boredpanda.com, where the artist Sarolta Ban is duly credited (and worth a visit too).