Guest Post: I Love Fukushima

Hey all, I know I haven't updated in a while, but I wanted to share something special and really important from a friend of mine, Doug, whose life has been deeply impacted by the disaster that is going on in Japan right now. Please take a moment to read his message and pass it along to anyone else that you know. If you haven't already donated to the Red Cross or another generous organization dedicated to helping those suffering from the Earthquake & Tsunami in Japan, please consider making a donation to the New Orleans Japan Quake Fund. 

Thanks xoxo

...................

Japan's Impact on My Life and New Orleans and a Plea for Your Help by Doug Tassin 

I'm sure everyone is aware of the current situation in Japan regarding the earthquakes, tsunamis, and the horrifying events taking place at the Fukushima Nuclear Plants. Last night, the radiation radius around Fukushima Daini Plant was expanded another 10km, moving it into Iwaki City. Hopefully, the cores can be cooled and contained, and any meltdown at any plant in Japan is prevented.  All the events that have decimated the Tohoku region of Japan since Thursday have really taken their toll on me, but the fact that this radiation "bubble" has expanded into Iwaki has me really sad.

Iwaki, like all of Fukushima, is a wonderful place.  It is home to beautiful beaches, fantastic hiking trails, wonderful and caring people, and some of the best food I've ever eaten. It's a place that I hold near and dear to my heart. Iwaki houses 3 years worth of memories that I will never forget.  It is my second home and a place where many people who I consider family still live.  Every night and day I pray for their safety and hope that some kind of relief can come to them (and all of those affected by this disaster). 

In fact, this is very similar to how I felt after Hurricane Katrina. About 2 weeks after Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast, I moved to Tokyo, Japan to study at Sophia University, at that point fulfilling my lifelong dream of going to and studying in Japan. However, it was a bittersweet fulfillment. I had left all of my family and friends behind to battle the destruction that Katrina had left in her wake. I felt horrible about leaving and even told my dad I didn't even know if I could go.  But he told me, "Go. This is your dream. It could be your only chance. We'll be okay." But not a day passed while I was in Japan where I didn't think about the troubles and struggles my friends and family were going through.

But then one day on the news in Japan, I heard that Japan had sent military assistance and relief to Katrina-affected areas.  In a recent editorial in the Times Picayune (http://www.nola.com/opinions/index.ssf/2011/03/time_to_repay_japan.html), a writer commented on what the Japanese provided New Orleans:

After Katrina, the Japanese government offered material and monetary assistance that surpassed $1 million and that included tents, blankets, power generators and portable water tanks. Japan also provided $200,000 to the American Red Cross to aid hurricane victims. In addition, Takashi Endo, a private businessman in Japan, donated $1 million from his personal funds to Katrina relief efforts.  I don't know if you have already donated to a cause but if you haven't, please consider this one.

At the end of the article, they also note ways to give relief and pay Japan back for its past generosity.  However, there is one more way.

The New Orleans Japan Quake Fund is currently in the process of being established.  It is being formed by a coalition of New Orleans-based, Japan-related groups: Japan Club of New Orleans, Japan Society of New Orleans, jetaaNOLA (JET Program Alumni Association, New Orleans Chapter), and Japanese Garden Society.  With the full support of Honorary Consul General of Japan Donna Fraiche and hopefully the endorsement of the govenor of Louisiana and mayor of New Orleans, we are creating this fund as a means for all of New Orleans to repay the generosity and care that Japan showed us in our time of need.  This donor administered fund will be created through the Greater New Orleans Foundation (GNOF), and we plan to raise money in the fund and give it directly to an organization in Japan. GNOF has a long history of successfully administering funds, and we will still be able to direct where the money goes.  As mentioned, it is still being set up and should be available VERY soon, but in the meantime, feel free to sign up for the New Orleans Japan Quake Fund mailing list at http://www.japanclubofneworleans.org/donations. You will receive updates, news, and information about the fund and future fundraising activities.  Also feel free to contact me if you are interested in making donations: doug.tassin@gmail.com.

My total four years in Japan were the greatest time in my life, and I will never ever forget that. I am forever indebted to Japan, and my love for the country runs deeper than I had ever realized.  Especially now, after Japan has experienced the worst natural disaster it has ever experience in its documented history and one similar to (but much worse than) one experienced in New Orleans, I want to give back to the country that has given me so much.  New Orleans, Louisiana, America, World. Are you ready to help Japan recover? I sure as hell am. 

One last request: Could you please share this note with your other Facebook friends and pass along the link for the New Orleans Japan Quake Fund? I would greatly appreciate it... Thank you from the bottom of my heart!!

Simple Kind of Life

I've been doing a lot of analyzing of my life recently as far as what I want for myself and what I want for the future. There are just so many options, so many alternatives, that sometimes, I wish I was just a simple girl.

"I think your either born simple or you're not. I want to be the person who gets happy over finding the perfect dress. I want to be simple because no one holds a gun to the head of a simple girl." - Dr. Christina Yang, Grey's Anatomy

I know it's kind of immature or un-PC to think of people as being "simple", but there really is a difference when it comes to the way people choose to live their lives. There are the over achievers, the perfectionists, the want to get ahead-ers, the need to control situations, be the best, be the most successful - and then, there are simple people; people perfectly content with where they are in life. With never climbing any higher up the ladder, never leaving the towns they grew up in, no interest in furthering their careers or wanting more for themselves than what they already have, no desire to see the world. People who see the world through rose colored glasses, with blinders on, who live a pre-prescribed life that has been set before them. Who live a blissful life in a world of naivety.

I saw Blue Valentine last weekend. There was a pivotal scene in which Ryan Gosling & Michelle Williams, while trying to have a weekend getaway to save their marriage, have a conversation over dinner. Michelle Williams' character asks Ryan's why, since he has such potential - he can sing, dance, play the ukelele, draw, etc. - he doesn't try to do more, to live up to that potential. His response to her is that all he wants to be is her husband and their daughter's father and why isn't that good enough? And I sat there with tears in my eyes thinking, why is she pushing him? She was right, but he was right too. Her character was in college when they met, on track to one day go to medical school until she got pregnant. Ryan's character didn't graduate high school and was working as a mover in Queens and came from a broken home. To him, to be a husband and a father, something he had never envisioned for himself - to him, that wasn't simple - that was him overachieving.

I know plenty of people in my own life who have the potential to be better, do better/be more, do more and yet, don't bother to live up to that potential. My father is an excellent example of this. I saw so much of him in Ryan Gosling's character - from the pack of Marlboro Reds to his aviator sunglasses to his dashing, full mustache to the way Ryan interacted with their daughter, Frankie; it was completely reminiscent of the interactions me and my father had when I was that age. (Especially the way Frankie favors her father over the cold, distance mother character that is Michelle Williams.) My father grew up poor in the Bronx, was the only male in his family to graduate from high school, he went into the Navy and sailed all over the world yet didn't get a passport until he was 45 and doesn't really want to travel overseas now; he became a husband and a father at 23 - and that's always been 100% completely satisfying for him. He has his little projects that he does around the house, his own hobbies and interests, but he has no real desire to do more than be completely content with where he is in his life right now. That works for him and I can't blame him for that. And if that makes him simple, at least he's happy doing it.

Sometimes, I think it might be easier. To not have to worry about getting a good job or paying my bills on time or finding a nice apartment in a good area that I can afford and still live comfortably. To be happy just being someone's wife and having kids and taking care of the house, doing the laundry, driving the car pool. To raise my family in the same town I grew up in and go to all the same stores, eat at all the comfortable, familiar chain restaurants and the occasional local Italian place. To take our vacations in tourist trap places while toting strollers and diaper bags and screaming toddlers who we neglect to yell at when they're clearly irritating everyone within a 5 foot radius. To not watch my weight constantly and wear sweatpants everywhere and let my roots show.  To just be a simple girl and smile.

Dear Jon...

It's been a long time, huh? Glad to see you're happy and doing well.

It's funny - I found myself thinking about you lately. Just this past Saturday night, I recalled the time you set a blanket on your lawn on a sunny Sunday afternoon and you read my fortune with tarot cards, looking up to see what each one meant from this book you had. Your spirituality was always one of your biggest passions and one of your most endearing qualities.

Remember our first date? Where we got bad Chinese food at that place on Mass Ave with the orange tables. Then picked out 2 movies at Blockbuster - Friday & Minority Report. We never did make it to Minority Report. We went to sleep in my dorm and in the dark, under the covers, I tickled you. You squirmed and then we kissed under my navy blue blanket. Our first kiss.

I think most of the reason I've thought of you lately is because I've met someone who reminds me so much of you. I see so many of your traits in him. You both are gentle and kind and well read. Sensitive. Smart. Caring. Comedic. Lovers of obscure bands/DJs and clove cigarettes. You both love animals and make funny faces and are skinny and fun to hug. You both have dimples with amazing smiles. You are both free spirited, yearning to travel, to see what the world has yet to hold. You march to the beat of your own drums and, in doing so, make the most beautiful kinds of music.

We were young and foolish at a time when it was great to be young and foolish and in love. Alas, distance always gets in the way. The physical distance between us, as well as the distance between us physically.  It makes me sad the way things ended between us, but deep down, I think we know it was the right thing. Our paths had crossed and then one day, my path shifted, but we shared some great times along the way.

I remember the last time I saw you. October, 2005. Club Shampoo in Philadelphia. You came up to me and gave me a hug, stepped back, holding me at arms length and said, "You look great."

"Thank you.", I replied, smiling.

Those were the best kind of words we could have parted ways with.

xoxo

Plan of Study

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Reflection/Reinvention

I decided to log into my old Live Journal today. (I'm pretty sure no one over the age of 20 uses this thing anymore.) My last entry was from June 30, 2006. Four & 1/2 years have gone by and I pretty much could have just written that last post word for word today. Not too much has changed except the passing of time:

.........

and while im not sure yet what i want to do with my future, i think part of me is just struggling to hold on to the past. i walked by a bunch of little kids today and thought to myself, oh to be young again. to not have any problems - no bills, no boyfriends, no stress, no aggravation, no job, no one constantly asking you "So what are you gonna do now?", no one nagging you to save your money, pay your bills, your student loans, this, that, do the dishes, pay the rent...

i cant take it. once school is done, im saving up a bit of money and just getting away for a while. i really need it. ive seriously burned myself out physically, mentally, and emotionally in the past five years...

i really wanna go to japan for a little while. maybe wander around ala scarlett johannson in Lost in Translation... Let myself get lost in a city of rushing people whose language I don't speak. Maybe then no one will be asking me any questions...

i admire my friends who pick up and move around at whim. they're ability to adapt, to change, to accept change... and i want so badly to do that. i want so badly for that to one day be able to be me. to say "hmm, im getting tired of living here - im gonna go there and start over". id love that kind of freedom, but im so so scared.

everyday is getting to be a struggle sometimes. the past six months i was so overwhelmed i thought my head would explode. now, its only slightly overinflated. ive just been working, schooling, everyone else is gone, ive been cut off from all my friends and my passions and it has been driving me seriously insane. ive cried pretty much almost everyday or every other day just because i feel so alone sometimes. i go to sleep at night, i plan out my week in my head: work 11-5:30, home, sleep, start over. work 5:30-12:00, home sleep, start over, school 9:00-12:30, 1:00-4:30, work 5:30-12:00, lather rinse repeat.

my writing has been slacking as well. im not nearly as eloquent as id like to believe i used to be. if that's what i want to do with my life, im starting to think im fucked. but maybe its somewhere in there. its just not ready to come out yet. its like ive had writers block for 5 years... no thats not entirely true. i did do a little writing 2 years ago. yeah, so then only 2 years of writers block. the rest, emptiness.

and its like, sometimes i cant decide if its the drugs or if its the post traumatic stress/post 9/11 thats caused this change. i never used to be so cognizant of certain things - at least not to extremes like now... my social anxiety disorder creeping back slowly, slowly... i dont want the medication. i just want to be normal. i just need someone who i can have close by all the time, who will listen - and really listen, and care. i know theres a few of you out there, but damned, cant i just keep you in my pocket?

alright, its late, im done rambling. i hope i got you up to speed.
xoxo
.........

Isn't it weird to look back sometimes on that person you once were? As much as you want to think you've changed, are changing, can change - you can never completely shed your past. There's always going to be a part of you that still falls into those same patterns and habits.

Reading further posts about the tumultuous "courtship" between me and my ex (dating, falling  for him, not being completely in a relationship and wanting more, afraid to tell him how I feel), I can relate all those same feelings even right now to my situation with Emmett. Sitting around contemplating how he feels, afraid to ask, afraid to tell him,  crying, fretting, worrying, waiting, wishing, hoping...

.....
maybe i shouldn't be too quick to rush this. something deep down inside keeps telling me this is meant to be... take it slow... let him figure out what it is he wants. it's just so hard for me to hold back the feelings. i mean, im not good at expressing them to begin with really, esp. when it comes to him, but everytime those blue brown eyes look into mine, i just wanna tell him i love you. 
 ........
what if hes just using me? that im just some plain ugly stupid girl who he knows likes him and so he takes advantage of that, mistaking my kindness for weakness, and walks all over me? hes probably got all these other girls that i dont even know about that are way prettier and skinnier and cuter and stuff than me and what does he want to hang out with this nerdy fat ugly girl with a big nose and a fat ass for?
........
i know theres nothing i can say or do to make him stay, but i want to at least let him know how i feel... find out if he feels the same, felt the same? would feel the same?... if things would have worked if he were staying...
.........

It's like history is repeating itself - and maybe that's why I'm so terrified to just let myself go in this situation. I know that Emmett is nothing like the POS person that attached himself to my life and sucked all the fun and beauty and happiness and independence out. I just spent five amazing wonderful days with him and know well enough that he's leaps and bounds above that asshole mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, intellectually. I just don't know how to separate him from these feelings of fear, these severe trust and abandonment issues, the lack of self worth that are attached to personal relationships that I have had recently.

It's a new decade. It's been 10 years since I graduated High School. It's time for me to really start living my life the way it was meant to be lived. I want 2011 to be everything that I wanted my grown-up life to be when I was 17 years old. I want to start my career and have my own cute apartment and trendy clothes and fashionable friends. To feel free and powerful and beautiful and happy and in love. I don't want the record to keep playing on and on. I want to rip the Band-Aid off and stand up for myself and conquer these insecurities once and for all. I want that to be my resolution this year.

So, I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell him how I feel. No matter how hard it is to get the words out, to fight the lump in my throat, to feel the fear and dread of rejection in the pit of my stomach - I'm going to do it. I can't live in fear for another 10 years. I can't spend the rest of my life worrying about the "What ifs" or being afraid that people are going to say "No" to me or get mad when I ask them simple things.  (Thanks for that special kind of fear, Mom.) And then I am going to apply that to the rest of my life. I am going to hold my head up high and ask and demand and fight my way to get where I want to be - and instead of cowering in fear, I am going to politely respond "Thank you for your time" and walk away with my head still high.... And on to the next one.

A New Me: That is my New Year's Resolution.

The Passing Lane

An ex-boyfriend once told me that he loved driving on what he called, "his stretch of highway", this certain little corridor of road near his house that encompassed all the places that he would normally go. It's the part of the road that you most feel comfortable on, where you know all the twists and turns, the potholes, the speed traps; the part of the road that you know like the back of your hand, that you could drive blindfolded.

Today I drove home on my own stretch of highway: It is comprised of the entire portion of I-95 in Westchester between Connecticut and the Bronx. I grew up learning to drive on that stretch of highway, driving with friends, racing cars, getting tickets and flat tires, sitting in traffic, passing accidents - I drove that stretch at all hours of the day and night and in all kinds of weather.Whenever I hit that stretch of highway, it just feels like I can put myself on auto-pilot and always find my way home.

Regardless of the year and a half I've spent in Pennsylvania, and as many times as I have driven on it's various highways, I am still unfamiliar with the pavement, with the construction zones, with the exit numbering, the toll plazas, the merges. I drove home this week for the holidays grasping the wheel, nervous and sweating the whole route from PA, through Jersey until I had finally hit my stretch of highway and could relax.

Your life when you're growing up is kind of like that familiar stretch of highway: you know what's coming around the bend, you have all your expectations, you know where to slow down and when it's safe to let it rip and rev the odometer well beyond the speed limit. Everything is set out right there for you - all the familiar exits and road signs and landmarks. You know where you're going and you don't need GPS. But as you get older, you start to venture out beyond that stretch of highway. You maybe go one exit further then you've gone before, get off and explore an area you've never been before, get lost and have to turn around or stop and ask for directions. 

That's kind of the perfect metaphor for adulthood for me. I'm still trying to navigate this new stretch of highway leading into adulthood. There are so many twists and turns, traffic stops, areas to slow down, exits that are few and far between. I have found myself turning around on several occasions, and even ticketed on a few. I've gotten off exits in bad parts of town and found myself struggling to get back on the highway, to get back on the road again. I know that one day I will get used to it. I will be able to recognize those bumps in the ground as my tires run over them, to be able to tell people how to get to those places that I can't remember now without a map, to know where it's safe for me to push the pedal all the way down and floor it. I'll be able to close my eyes and feel my way through the lanes to get to where I'm going. It will feel just like second nature. 

One day, I'll be able to call this new stretch of highway my own. 

Dear Santa...

When you're a little kid, Christmas is a magical time of year. All the lights and the big tree with the ornaments. The fairytale of Santa going from house to house leaving presents and eating the cookies and milk you've left out for him. The excitement you feel ripping the paper off your new favorite toy - "JUST WHAT I WANTED!", you cry out as your parents take pictures and smile.

But not everyone gets that same kind of Christmas. Many families can't afford to get the name brand toys or the video game systems or the expensive clothes that you want. (My grandparents were barely scraping by, but they still managed to have piles of presents under the tree and in my stocking. And while at the time I found myself sneering at the generic dolls, no-name toys and the homemade trinkets, I realized later on that they were just trying to do all they could with the little that they had because they wanted to see me happy.) Some people can't even afford to get their kids more than one or two gifts, especially the way the economy is now. Obviously, in some cases, people rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars in credit card debit just trying to make sure that Christmas is a happy occasion and that everyone gets what they want.  And in more extreme instances, sacrifices must be made - even if that means disappointing little Johnny or Judy on Christmas morning.

That's where Operation Santa Claus comes into play. Each year, a group of volunteers receives the letters that children (and sometimes even parents in need) write to Santa Clause. They do their best to make Christmas miracles come true. This year, because people have fallen on such dire straits, Santa's letters aren't just asking for Nintendo Wiis or Justin Bieber T-shirts - they're asking for diapers, blankets, even money to keep the electricity on. Many of these kids who write to Santa have never had much, so they're not setting their hopes too high. Some children however, make excessive demands and even include price points. Everyone wants to believe that there's someone out there that will hear their pleas and help them. Everyone wants to believe that Santa Clause will make their Christmas wishes come true. The volunteers do their best to accommodate those that they can - but there's only so many letters that can be answered, only so many prayers that can be answered, only so many people that can be helped.

I have seen Christmas become so commercialized over the years. People become greedier; asking for unnecessary things, trying to satisfy these materialistic desires. I have had friends who only wanted to exchange gifts so that they could get something in return. People pushing and fighting for the last hot toy, trampling Wal-Mart workers to death on Black Friday just to get deep discounts on TVs, video games, etc. What happened to the spirit of the season? The spirit of simply giving and sharing and enjoying those special moments with your loved ones?

Maybe I've been a bit of a Scrooge the past few years, but since I've grown up, Christmas has just lost its appeal to me. Once you enter into adulthood, should you really be berating family and friends with a list of Christmas demands? I have shifted from asking for silly things like TV DVD box sets that will just collect dust or hundreds of Hello Kitty trinkets to useful things like luggage or supermarket gift cards. Anything that I really want, I make enough money now that I can just buy myself; I don't need to ask people to get me things. I used to get upset when people would buy me practical things like an emergency roadside kit for my car or a lunch bag, but now, I see that these are the kinds of things I can really be appreciative of.

Reading the stories about the kids who are writing to Santa has really touched my heart. I wish I wasn't already living paycheck to paycheck so that I could truly help people and change lives and make a difference, make children happy and make them feel like Christmas miracles really do happen. We did a toy drive at work this year and I wish I could have gotten everything on that list and personally distributed the toys and games so I could see the smiles on those kids' faces; so I could feel their joy in knowing that someone cared enough to think about them and get them things that they wanted and wouldn't have been able to receive because of their family's financial situations. So they could rip the paper off those presents and cry out "JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED!" and smile so, so wide. And I would be smiling too while hiding the tears of joy in my eyes as I reveled in their excitement, knowing that I helped make their dreams come true.

I have always had this inner Philanthropist just bursting to get out. I remember coming up with a proposal when I was 16 about setting up housing for the homeless on Governor's Island and finding them jobs and helping them get back on their feet; I told my parents about it and they laughed at me. Whenever me and my friends would fantasize about what we would do if we won the lottery, in my mind I would always set aside a generous portion of my money to use for charitable purposes. I envisioned driving through the streets of Manhattan and handing out $100 bills to homeless people and picking them all up in a limo and getting them cleaned up and well fed for the night - even if they were only going to eventually use the money for booze or drugs or some other degenerate purposes.

I am not a greedy person. My parents came from poverty and always taught me the value of money and of things and making the most of what you have. We lived very comfortably and I never had to worry about having clothes or food for dinner or a roof over my head. Moving from the humbleness of the Bronx to the decadence of Westchester County, I grew up truly understanding the difference between the haves & the have-nots. While my classmates lived in mansions and got brand new cars for their 16th birthdays and wore expensive jeans, I knew that my parents couldn't afford those things and were doing the best that they could. I never took that for granted. Sure, I was jealous at times, but money doesn't buy you happiness.

One day, I am going to be rich and successful. I will live a modest and comfortable lifestyle (possibly splurging a little on expensive shoes & purses), but I will never live beyond my means. I am going to keep good on my promise to use my wealth to do great things. I will walk down the streets of New York and instead of passing over the vagrants with their empty coffee cups extended, begging for change, I will shove in a fist full of large bills. I will start charities to give back to those who really need it. One day, more of those letters to Santa will be answered and more Christmas miracles will come true.

I promise.