Remember when I wrote that I’d be a good blogger and update and write things on a consistent basis like a good boy? I lied. I’d like to say that I’ve been too busy to write but that’d be a boldface lie. The majority of my days over the past two months have passed with marathon Doctor Who Blu Ray collection sessions and getting more in-depth into basketball statistics than is probably healthy for a normal human being. But all those days, all those wasted hours have been done in preparation for this moment, this day.
As I write this, I only have about 20 more hours left in the United States before I haul two suitcases jammed to the brim with snotty office clothes that I never imagined I’d ever wear onto a plane bound for Japan and the high-stakes world of underground wolf wrangling. Okay, so maybe I made that last bit up in a desperate attempt to impress you guys and not seem like a total sad sack. Here’s the reality of my whole move thingy:
- The destination: Mito-shi, Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan.
- The job: English instructor/ teacher at a large chain English conversational school (Not quite sure if I want to disclose which company at this juncture)
- The salary: 250,000 yen a month (I think)
My contract official ends in March of 2014 due to a technicality but I’m actually probably signed until 2015, at which point, who knows what the hell’s going to happen. Until that point, I’m going to be living in Japan, away from my family, away from my friends, away from my beloved American sports (which is probably a good thing because I swear I’m a bad luck charm for the 49ers), and more importantly, away from all of the people who have filed restraining orders against me. In short, if graduating from college wasn’t enough of one, this is a brand new start from scratch (disregarding the four suits I’m bringing with me and the laptop I’m typing this on). I didn’t really need a fresh start or anything but I find that concept all sorts of fascinating. All those ties and social circles I’ve acquired over the years? Gone. That safety net of family and friends? Adios friendo. Now, if I screw things up (which I probably will… repeatedly), I’ve only got myself to blame and I’ll be the one suffering.
In writing this post, I’m once again procrastinating on the whole packing deal. I’ve made the decision to take two suitcases, which I’ve found to be surprisingly empty, even as I do my best to fill them with everything I’ll need to be a professional in uptight business Japan, which means I’m probably forgetting something important. It’s not money (I’m barely gonna be scraping together enough to survive for the first month there) and certainly not socks. Maybe it’s something less physical and more… abstract. I already know the most important thing: No matter how much I prepare myself, I’m going to be caught off guard. So why worry about packing? Once I have the big stuff down, what point is there in sweating the details? I don’t want my last couple of hours in the states to be filled with dread and panic. I want to savor that thick American smog, get stuck in the usual bumper-to-bumper traffic of the American commute, smell the roses undoubtedly doused with some drunk hobo’s urine. If the time comes and I’m missing something crucial, so be it. It’s not like Japan is a distant way station in the middle of the Sahara. They have stores there too.
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading the ramblings of a dude who’s low on sleep and high on impatience. I promise I’ll try to write a bit more once I’m over there since I’m sure some of you will be curious about what I’m up to amongst the chilly natto-fields of Mito. If that doesn’t appeal to you, why the hell are you even reading through this blog?
I know the impact of what I’m doing has completely gone over my head but oh well. I’ll have plenty of time to ruminate on the deeper meaning of my job in Japan during my twelve hour plane flight. Let’s just get this show on the road.
P.S. I should probably check whether or not I’m actually booked on this flight.
P.P.S. If anyone is reading this and has my phone number, just get rid of it. My sister’s taking over my phone and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to deal with you guys texting her with your nonsense.
P.P.P.S. Whoever invented the Rice Krispie Treat deserves a Nobel Prize.