It's been 77 days since I first set foot in Japan, until now I am still stepping on it's soil. Leaving my motherland, the pearl of the orient seas, to come and suckle at the supple bosom of the land of the rising sun for financial supplement was bittersweet. It was a trade off, as life always is. Coming to Japan, on one hand, meant: fortune, expansion of horizon, money, evolution of nihongo and technical skills, thousands of yen, meeting new people and hopefully making new acquaintances which may become friends, earning more, chance to eat sushi from seven eleven Japan branch, to become an ambassador of good manners and right conduct for the Filifins, becoming a "bagong bayani" and help the economy of the Motherland grow and someday become a super power among third world countries, and other ek-ek chuvaruuus... On the other hand it meant: leaving my beloved Motherland, being farther from my family, and the most difficult choice of all, leaving (temporarily) the warmth of the woman I love. Char!
It was my first time to travel beyond the borders of "Inang Pilipinas". I was teary-eyed as I gazed from the aircraft window to the deep blue sea below. Memories were flashed in my mind projected by my heart, kinda like a slideshow in multiply.com with tags and album titles, vivid images fading in transition. It's not that I'm leaving this world or somethin', but something inside of me started to grow and it's not because of the sexy lady walking along the cabin aisle... of course not! It was a feeling. I felt like I was leaving a big part of me behind, as if there was something missing -- I was not complete. My mind looked forward for the imminent adventures waiting for me in the land of the rising sun, yet my heart was desperately holding on to the vivid memories of a loving face.
Now, it is 11:50pm. I am alone in the room with no echoes. Desperately searching for solutions for the noise frequencies of a machine that can never give me love. It's so quiet in here I can here the ticking of the clock mocking me. I am alone and lonely. The milk from the bossom is getting sour. I am alone and lonely, but at least I can pick my nose without reservation and fart at will. Gotta go, or I'll miss the train. Miss you Haze.
