Why I Hate Japan

My brother is leaving for Japan. In a few days, both he and his wife will be gone. I can't even begin to describe how much this hurts to write. But I write because I need to write about it, need to give this grief a voice, need to get it outside of me.

I don't want to think about how empty my life will feel without them in it. I don't want to imagine the times when I will want to walk next door to their apartment and realize that they aren't there. I don't want to deal with reality that they have made living here tolerable.

And I really don't want to think about them not being here to love Jack with me. This is, absolutely, the most painful aspect of their departure.

They are leaving to create a new life together in Japan, to spend the first year of their marriage in adventure, to get a start that is fresh and exciting. And I get excited for them when I think about this. It took them a lot of hard work to get to this place, the day after their wedding, two weeks before Japan. My support for them has been unwavering, and it still is.

But I am left here in my own life without them, without the adventure, without the new marriage, without the excitement. I have dirty dishes in my sink and a shitty job to go to. I am sickeningly aware of my jealousy of their companionship, of their new start, and of their courage to follow their dreams and suddenly my life feels empty and sallow, like a white washed photo. I hate my job, I hate where I live, I hate being broke, I hate being alone. There, I said it.

So, their leaving is like a double whammy. First of all, I am losing my companions, my immediate support, my friends, my family. I am losing two individuals who stand with me in my life and love it with me. I am losing the comfort of a good neighbor, the person I can drop in on anytime, day or night, and who is happy to see me. I am losing two of Jack's most favorite people, people who he lights up around. God, that is so hard to write.

Secondly, their leaving forces me to recognize the lack of energy I have for my own life, how little I am enjoying it, and how ready I am for a change. And this isn't so hard to write. In fact, I'm really glad to put a label on the lethargic, dissociative way that I've been moving through my days. It's time for a shift; it's time for a change.

I helped Corey pack today. I hated it. But I just want to soak up every minute that I have left with him. The grief and the fear of not having him nearby came in waves as I placed his dishes into boxes, each wave just as hard as the last. There seems to be no reprieve in sight. And right now I cannot imagine ever being okay with their absence, cannot imagine thinking of them without that painful lump clogging my throat.

But I know better. I know that one day I will think of them and I will not have to wipe away tears or clear my throat. I know that I will learn to live without them and their absence won't feel like a gaping, black hole. I've done this before, with ex-boyfriends and roommates and pets. It always feels like death, those first few days, weeks, months. Everything hurts, as if I'm walking around with no skin.

So, I'm going to go do what I always do in times of deep emotional turmoil: read Harry Potter. Lumous to me.

Happy Birthday, Jack!

July 10th was Jack's first birthday. He is now officially a toddler, although the United States government failed to acknowledge this with a letter or some other form of notification. I'm sure it was just an oversight.

Anywho, I made these little videos as a gift to Jack, a way of looking back at his first year and remembering it. Be prepared to cry... some of them are total tear-jerkers.

This first one is Jack's first day of life... grab the kleenex.



A little video about Jack's love affair with water. Caution: this video contains nudity.



Uncle Corey is Jack's favorite person in the whole wide world. Jack gets so excited when Corey walks through the door! If Jack were a cocker spaniel, he would pee on the floor every time. Here's a little video that shows how cute these two are together.



If you made this video, entitled Jack & Co., you know you are kind of a big deal.



This last one is a letter that I wrote to Jack on his birthday. Get more kleenex.

WWJD

I’m going through another phase, as I often do. It's a phase in my thinking, one that I will think will change my life forever- once I figure it out. But I said that last week about about a diet program I saw on TV. Anyways, this current life-changing phase revolves around these two suffixes: –ish and –less.

When placed behind the word self, two new words are created that have very different meanings. Due to my Sunday School teachings and various after school specials, I learned that selfish = bad, while selfless = good. I mean, let’s face it. Jesus was the epitome of self-less: went through hell, was tortured and crucified for the world, etc. And we’re all supposed to try to be like him, right? Isn’t that what it means when it says, “Deny yourself, pick up your cross and follow Jesus?”

I heard a lot of stuff about selfish vs. selfless. Selfless people were always revered on Sunday mornings at church. There would be a slide presentation about the Walsh family in Peru who were living amongst the aborigines who would daily threaten the Walsh children’s lives by putting deadly snakes in their cribs and dragging them down to the river to be eaten by the crocodiles. And yet the Walsh family continued to be of service to the Lord and to the Tichian tribe of Peru by spreading the good gospel. And would you consider sending $20.00 – just the cost of a cup of coffee a day – to the Walsh family so that they can buy the necessary vaccines and snake venom antidotes that they need to continue their ministry?

They never did a slide show on the Stewart family that took a rejuvenating vacation to Cabo that summer after a long year of being a soccer mom and VP of sales at Qualcom. They didn’t talk about how great it was that the Stewarts flew first class and ate at five-star dining establishments in an effort to enjoy themselves and the beauty of the world around them. (Unless, of course, the Stewarts spent their time in Cabo passing out tracks and reciting the sinner’s prayer with other beach goers on vacation. Then they might get a nod from the pastor).

In fact, as a child I was often able to detect a hint of disdain from the pulpit for families like the Stewart’s. It seemed that I was warned against this kind of hedonism, this blatant soothing of the flesh that has no reward in heaven. “Do not build up your treasures here on earth,” “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit,” “no one should seek out his own good but the good of others,” etc. I was groomed to be a martyr, to care more about others than myself, to feel guilty every time I walked past a homeless man without offering him my last silver coins. I was taught that by choosing a cup of coffee instead of sending my allowance to Peru, I was choosing to let children die.

So, fast forward 10, 20 years and here I am, still wrestling with my guilt over buying my venti iced coffee instead of sending $29.99 to end genocide in Darfur. And I’m serious, folks. I feel like I am choosing to let children die every time I enjoy that sweet, milky coffee that seems to switch me from off to on every morning. How could I be so selfish, the preacher’s voice inside my head asks? How could you deny Jesus in this way? How could you care more about your own comfort over the lives of dying women and children in Darfur?

I used to listen to this voice religiously. Out of a tremendous sense of responsibility for the world’s poor and sick and hungry, I sent my money to Compassion and Amnesty and the Red Cross. I ate a completely vegan diet for two years when I realized how the raising of farm animals devastated the earth and its resources. I’ve lobbied congress, sent letter to my senators, complained on the White House comment line. I became a social worker and a foster parent to rescue abused children. I only buy clothing made in the US in order to prevent the proliferation of sweat shops… but I still feel guilty. I still feel guilty for the amount of water I waste every day, for spending $25.00 on a pretty shower curtain, for wanting to give birth to another child instead of preferring to adopt one. I feel guilty for having what I have and for wanting more. I feel guilty for taking up space on the planet at all.

I’m tired of feeling bad for enjoying a cup of coffee. I want to be done with the anxiety that comes along with this tremendous sense of over-responsibility and I am ready to embrace the beauty of the world around me without apologizing for my first-class plane ticket. But I don’t know how yet.

Perhaps there is a clue to this issue of suffixes in the question written on the slap bracelet I used to wear so proudly: What Would Jesus Do? This always seemed like an easy question: give your stuff away, die for each other, turn the other cheek, become a doormat, etc. But maybe this isn’t accurate at all. Perhaps I had Jesus all wrong. As I recall, he did put Judas in his place when Judas chastised the woman for “wasting” expensive perfume on Jesus’s feet. Judas argued that the money could have been used for the poor, but Jesus told him, “There will always be poor, but I won’t be around long. Enjoy me while I’m here.”

So, what would Jesus do? Seems to me that he might just order the venti iced coffee, and add a blueberry scone to go with it. He might even have done so in designer sandals. Maybe there is a way to enjoy the bounty and beauty of this life without feeling guilty, without feeling as if I’m stealing from the poor. Maybe.

The A List

The must-haves Amber thinks are just great:

1. Little brothers who mop your kitchen floor while he babysits your child. Thanks, Corey!
2. The VW billboards. As a beetle owner, I beam with pride when I see the fabulous VW billboards urging us to "Dare to be happy." Jaded is overrated, Misery has enough company..." I could start a religion based on this stuff. In fact, I will. Services at 11:00pm.
3. Cathy Griffin, My Life On the D-List. Love love lovety love love love her. Love.
4. Shutterfly.com. I'm going to admit something to all of you but you have to promise to still like me. I like to scrapbook. Oh god, I hate admitting that. I was never a crop-till-you-drop-diehard, but I do own a paper-cutter and a punch, or two. Shutterfly is excellent because of the amazing photobooks that you can create online. They're simple, cute, and they don't require adding on a spare bedroom for your craft supplies.
5. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. A smart, quick paced show that takes lots of shots at the religious right. And Chnandler Bong is in it!
6. The Glamazons. I found myself inspired by these ladies, although their lead singer could use a pitch corrector for performances. Yikes. OH, and watch to the end of the video for the Hoff's reactions. Fab.
7. Hey Paula. Oh.My.God. An hour of pure crazy. L-O-V-E. Straight up.
8. This photo of Jack eating a lime