I was a cocky dude in high school. Well, let me give myself some credit, I was a pretty confident dude in high school as I had a leg up on the average high school student as I was already in an internship with a scholarship attached. You should be proud of your accomplishment. Stay humble, but still be proud. Thing was, one of my main weaknesses in high school I never truly grasped and worked on. It was very apparent when I struggled in AP Physics/AP Calculus but since I was already accepted in my college, all I needed to do was pass.

And that, was the problem.

I’m no genius but I am indeed above the average curve. Others have done/achieved more than I have (a certain lovely smol person comes to mind). The thing was, I never truly “studied” much outside of studying to simply remember enough material to pass my exams. Problem solving was not my forte. I got by really well by somehow just “getting” the material in most classes. I never truly struggled until senior year but I attributed that to senioritis….. that lasted into junior year of college.

It was there that I hit a proverbial wall. Simply put, I didn’t learn how to learn. When facing an obstacle I can’t simply walk through, I didn’t know how to get past it. Didn’t know how to climb over, dig under, or muddle my way around it. I froze. And failed. Not once, but twice my programming class. And also, my Japanese 3 class. Why? Not only was I stumped, but was also lazy. Did enough just to get by. Problems at home also drove me to be unmotivated.

My sensei knew, and she couldn’t give a rat’s ass to my excuses.

My sensei was a Spartan woman who was extremely old fashioned. Married a white military man, she moved her to the states and had goals of her own as well (Doctorate in Philosophy).  She stood 4’10 but my god was she the scariest professor I’ve ever had the privilege of taking. She knew I tried to do my homework literally an hour or so before class and sometimes in class so she’d switch things up simply to catch me in the act. This was easy to do when that Japanese 2 class only had 8 people.

I hit a very low point in my college life junior year to the point that I thought I was going to drop out and lose my scholarship/internship. GPA dipped, problems at home affected me, and the fear of losing health insurance/finding a job. I failed 2 classes that semester, and both classes defined who I was at that point in my life: Computer Science and Japanese.

What am I? Where am I headed? Why am I crashing and burning?

My sensei didn’t mince words. I didn’t do the work. There’s nothing I could do. I was going to get that F for her class. No matter how much makeup work I do, no matter how many assignment revisions, I was getting that failing grade. And yet, all the while she was adding to the grave being dug for me, the look in her eyes believed in me. That I deserved this to get better. That this isn’t where my career will be buried.

“Live life, <last name>-san. It’s easy to make money. Money always out there. Harder to be happy and be proud.”
“If you go to Japan, we’d look at you funny. Hey, you look like us, why your Japanese bad?”
“You don’t deserve to pass.”

She had health issues ever since I’ve known her. This Spartan woman was so intimidating and yet still so physically fragile. The amount of assignments she gave us must have been hard to grade but she persevered because those hard assignments were extremely effective in teaching us Japanese grammar. When all but one person failed the first exam the second time I took Japanese 3, she was on the verge of tears. She cared THAT much for her students.

Every now and then she breaks off from lecture to talk about her life, which is what her dissertation was on. Being a Japanese woman married to an American male. The culture shock. The trials and tribulations. She gave us life lessons, and believed in every single student. It was not until the last day in class (the second time) that she believed in me highly.

“I knew you always had it in you. I can tell you’re just doing enough to get by.”

I got an A the second time around. My issue was never the grammar, that was easy. It was remembering (I have terrible vocabulary memory), doing the homework (on time) and my calligraphy (my penmanship is chicken scratch).

It’s been more than 9 years since I’ve spoken to her and I just read that her husband died just a few months ago. But I’m just too scared to reach out to her. Would it weird her out? I know her Facebook, don’t know any personal e-mail address. Does she even use that Facebook? I’ve reflected so much since college and I don’t think I ever gave her thanks.

Sensei, thank you for giving me that F. I needed to be thrown into the fire because I was frozen this entire time. You didn’t pity me. Didn’t believe in my excuses. Didn’t baby me a single bit. You challenged and threw me things that you know I could overcome, if only enough effort was given by me. Didn’t throw me any softballs or given me an easy out, because you know the rewards of hard work.

I needed that.

What is the purpose of my blog? Was this just a newer incarnation of my old Xanga blog that I wrote random posts filled with teenage angst? At the moment, I truly don’t know the direction of where I want to take this blog. Ive written long posts and then there’s my thoughts that are a few sentences long.

I started this blog (again) for mainly 2 reasons: Vent my emotions through words due to a broken heart and to have those words read by someone I was entranced with (who so happened to be the one that encouraged me to start the blog). It was also a way to communicate with that person in a passive way as our schedules conflicted.

Then it became somewhat of a Twitter feed with those short untitled posts. Usually either blowing steam, a certain thought on my mind, or just something I want to say to someone but I can’t (or won’t). Truth be told, it’s these types of posts that take up a majority of my blog and it, in a way, makes me dislike what my blog became to be.

What is my purpose on this platform?

It’s been a roller coaster of half a year. I initially had plans but things got in the way. Bonds with people changed, disappeared and finally are reborn. Focus became hazy and then redirected. What drove me to write back then was heart break, an unexpected desire to be heard and (to be honest) self pity. It’s easier to write back then when everything seemed bleak. But now that the sunlight’s back in my favor, what can I complain about? And having difficulty to write with that premise isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just means the landscape is more favorable to my next journey.

Or is the mishmash of randomness what’s perfect for my blog? Still haven’t even come up with a new layout. This is indeed, a window to my mind and heart. It isn’t a blog dedicated to food. Or to poetry. No reviews of entertainment or anything. Stepping into this blog means stepping into my warped mind. Is that my selling pitch as to why you, the readers, should visit?

But life’s good. It can be better obviously. And it’s within my power to make it so. I booked my flight to Los Angeles to attend Anime Expo and Disneyland this coming summer. For myself, by myself. I need to do this more often. It’s what I deserve.

The future is still too bright. It’s a bit scary at the moment. I’m treading a lifestyle and mindset I’ve never thought I’d have. Wish I had this sooner. There simply isn’t just a single picture of how my future can be. Why be discouraged when life takes me away from it?

The march to March begins.

Let’s go.

They say if you love something, let it go
If it comes back it’s yours, that’s how you know.

Christina Aguilera’s song “What a girl wants” happened to be one of my favorite songs. Catchy as it is, it has very important messages:

• Patience
• Giving space
• Hope
• Trust
• Empathy

Though despite knowing this, it took me 2 decades to actually absorb and make it part of me. When I started dating, I thought you had to be connected to the hip, have to talk 24/7. That is, to remain in a healthy and loving relationship. Back then, each time I couldn’t speak to whomever I was dating within our usual time of talking, I would get nervous, scared, always thinking something was up. That I’m being left behind. I mean, yeah I still give myself slack because in high school, there wasn’t much you can do back then. I slip up sometimes even now.

When my ex lived with me for almost a year, I thought this would prove that we belonged with each other. Nightly Netflix and chill. Morning forehead kisses. Dinner dates. Trying out new recipes. Morning walks. Sunset and sunrise viewing.

Thing is, most of that ever happened.

I’ll not beat a dead horse as I’ve learned to accept my ex for what she was to me. But the person that I am, I still think about why it happened the way it did. For training and quality purposes of course. I felt I had a hand in it, a severe impact. While yeah, I made her happy initially by giving her the world, she never did anything to deserve it. And that world I gave, was my world, not ours. She did not own a plot of land and that was the problem.

I read the situation and her wrong. I was supportive. I helped her at any chance that I got. I was patient. I trusted she would never hurt me. I wanted to believe she can achieve her dreams. But she didn’t need that. She needed to grow up and I babied her. Now I’m not saying the above is wrong. There’s a limit to just how much a person can do without help. But I didn’t teach her to fish, I just gave her the cooked filet.

She wasn’t motivated to be on her own, I was her life. And while that’s sweet, that’s also highly fragile. Because then I can’t rely on her when it was my turn to be weak. What kind of relationship is it when the foundation is so weak? And it wasn’t even job/professional aspect that she didn’t have, she didn’t truly have a hobby either. She didn’t know what to do on her spare time.

When your significant other enjoys life and has goals, that makes the relationship and attraction stronger. We all need our time apart. Without time apart, there’s a high chance of boredom, of taking things for granted. When my ex lived with me, we HARDLY spent time with each other, despite being next to each other every night.

And think about it this way. Having separate time could actually help in finding out new things to try with each other. Like divide and conquering life. You go this way, I’ll go this way and we’ll reconvene. Tell me how that food stall is on the left and I’ll try out this stall on the right. Seems more efficient to me.

It’s telling when there’s such an unlimited possible things your significant other can do on a daily basis and yet they always find some time to squeeze you in. Do you know how much anime, games, amusement parks, clubs, retreats and other events they could be doing? I used to not appreciate that, but I think everyone has a point where they don’t.

Now, I’m not saying I don’t WANT to be connected to the hip. If I lay in bed with my lover for the entire day, that’s one amazing day for me. I want as much time with her as possible, because I know I can get her to laugh, let her enjoying roasting me. I want her attention all to myself. I want my presence to always be known. I want her engulfed in my love. I’m just saying if she wants to do something else…

It’s fine. Have fun. Because she knows I can do something else myself.

And shortly later, when we come back together, my jokes are fresh with the fresh new material I experienced in my solo expedition. That I did something stupidly (but adorably) dumb that gives her more reasons to roast me. And chances are, even when we are doing our own thing, we probably have each other in mind sometime in that separation.

• This reminds me of…
• Oh, I can’t wait to tell…
• I want to see this with.

 

The amount of space between us isn’t as important when the bond we have with each other is just that strong.