Rant. Diatribe. Just Give Me A Second

Well, it finally hit me, seven months in. Stage Two: homesickness and frustration. Not in a terribly bad way, an, “I-have-to-go-home-right-this-second-or-I’m-gonna-go-berserk” way. It’s just a little tickle that hits me once in a while. It might just come from wondering if I really made the right decision to stay another year. I mean, I could have given up Japan in August—I will have seen a good portion of this country by then—and gone on to teach English at some universidad down in South America. But I’m not; I’m going to stay. I was feeling pretty good about this decision for a while; I’ll take advantage of my time here and travel, learn, teach. It’s just that recently, every time I have a bad day at work, or a store employee asks me something I don’t understand, or any number of little instances happen that make me feel frustrated, I feel doubly so because I know now that it’s not just “five more months and I’m gone.” It’s nineteen. I coasted through the first six months easily; but now that winter just won’t leave and I can’t get the hang of Japanese culture, everything is starting to get to me.

There’s just so much I don’t understand! And I don’t mean verb tenses and sentence particles, either. It’s the entire deep culture. That’s what’s been bothering me recently. I keep comparing Western and Japanese culture. Like I don’t understand smiling at the funeral when an immediate family member dies, suppressing your true feelings of grief, or immediately changing the subject any time some remotely difficult topic like death or divorce comes up, or looking the other way when some stranger gets felt up on a crowded train, or only telling your girlfriend she’s beautiful when you’re drunk, or not holding hands in public, or not eating Twizzlers because they were snuck illegally into the movie theatre, or not understanding sarcasm, taking everything literally, or being afraid of friendly hugs, or always having an impassive face like you’re straight out of 1984. I want to yell, like Gregory Corso’s line from “Marriage”: “You must feel! It’s beautiful to feel!”

I don’t know how to react when someone says, “Oh, that’s a very American casual outfit you have on,” as if I were wearing a garbage bag. I don’t know if, “That’s a very bright shirt,” means, “Don’t wear that to school again,” (even though I do). I don’t know if all the exclamations of “kawaii!” that only happen when I wear my contacts mean I’m ugly with glasses. I double-analyze everything everyone tells me to check if they’re being sincere. It’s got me walking on eggshells.


I don’t understand why so many strong expressions I want to say (“You don’t have time for me,” “I feel really angry,” etc.) can’t translate into Japanese. When I ask someone if it makes sense, the answer is usually, “Mmmm, we don’t say that in Japanese.” Any strong honest sentiment gets watered down before it reaches the listener’s ears. No one will use the actual word for “angry” and even if they did, God knows no one will ever actually voice it! I can’t get a straight “yes” or “no” answer to any question, either at work or personally, only ambiguous replies like, “If I can go, I’ll go,” (which means I’m not coming) or “You did a really good job on this, but . . . “ (which means It’s not good enough). I would so much appreciate a straightforward, direct, frank conversation some time.


I know these are just cultural differences that don’t merit my eye-rolling exasperation. I know they’re not wrong, they’re just different (and try saying that in Japanese, when the same word for wrong means different! ちがう!). I’ve taken Intercultural Communication courses and studied sociology and social work and ESL education. I know about ethnocentricity and positions of power and What It Means to Be A White American, et cetera et cetera et cetera. I’ve been to foreign countries; I know everyone doesn’t think the same way I do. Living in a small island nation, it makes sense that there is less independence, more politeness, more formality. There isn’t enough space to spread out and “be yourself.” People have reasons for their behavior. It’s all about tradition and saving face and all of those other sociological terms. I get it. I honestly do. But all that knowing doesn't prevent me from feeling frustrated at times. I feel like I can’t be 100% Jaimie Lynn, either for fear of being ostracized or fear of stepping on someone’s toes. And that’s hard for me. I’m not trying to change an entire culture. I’m just voicing all these little frustrations that have been building up in the past few months. I’m just saying, I think, that I’m ready for Stage Two to be over and for Stage Three, Acceptance, to get here already.