As mentioned in a previous post, I ordered 2 gigs for RAM and OSX 10.5 from Amazon.com. The RAM came before OS X did, so I had a few days of blissful Tiger running on almost 5 times the minimum required RAM. To be clear, it was speedy. I opened all of the applications on my dock at the same time just because I could. With 512megs (the default amount), I have to be responsible and prioritize which application I really wanted to have running. No more! There's really no downside to having more RAM. A new OS, however...
Leopard arrived at my door last Monday, three days after it's release. From what I had read on message boards and in reviews online, it seemed great. Sure, there was talk of the little 'Leopard BSOD' incident, but I threw it in the back corner of my mind, where it splattered against the wall.
Two hours after I had begun the install, and I was staring at a very bright blue screen. I had mouse control, but that was about it. No keyboard, no CD drive, no nothing. I grabbed a nearby laptop to see what was the matter. Upon a quick Google search I found myself at Apple.com's support pages. One clearly hastily thrown up page told me that I had an issue with my ApplicationEnhancer plugin (which I had indeed installed). The site told me to reboot into Single User Mode (a 'feature' which happened to have locked me out of my computer on the flight over - my fault) and type in a few lines of code to delete the file bundle, which I did. A quick reboot and Leopard was now ready to go!
The install overall was the smoothest install I have ever had the pleasure of sitting through. Granted, all the previous install I had done were with Windows, but still, Leopard was amazing. Macs are set up so that the system folder is completely separate from the applications and other data folders, so a new OS install leaves everything else perfectly intact. This is unheard of when using Windows. I plan to install Mac OS 9.2 onto my G4 Powermac soon, so I'll get to compare the experiences soon enough.
Now for a basic run-down of the pros and cons I have found with Leopard so far.
PROS
-User interface is gorgeous
-The ability to lock folders to a certain view option is much appreciated. I use List for Apps, Grid for Movies, etc.
-Spaces is brilliant
-The new iChat is awesome
-The new backdrops in Photo Booth are nice
- I can finally record video via built-in iSight from Photo Booth - I no longer have to open iMovie
- Cover flow is a nice addition to Finder, especially in the Photo and Documents folder
-The predefined spotlight searches for Today, Yesterday, This Week, etc, are nice
CONS
-Takes an additional three gigs of space over Tiger
-Time Machine wants to re-format my external before it can use it. That will not be happening.
- Stacks are no so cool. In fact, they get rather annoying.
-My Cocktail app doesn't work with Leopard yet.
Overall, I enjoy using Leopard a lot. However, seeing as Spaces alone takes up probably 200megs of RAM, I wouldn't recommend using Leopard on any machine sporting less than gig or RAM.
11.04.2007
10.28.2007
A Concert of Hosts
I had the privilege of seeing three American music titans in concert last night: Vernon Reid, guitarist of Living Color, David Johansen of the New York Dolls, and Galt McDermot, composer of the musical Hair. All three were premiering original work at the St. George Theatre on Staten Island, and it was a night of music I will not soon forget.
Honestly the only reason I as interested in the concert was because Vernon Reid was performing. I have been a huge fan of Vernon's ever since I found his Mistaken Identity album on a rack of CDs in a Japanese used-media shop and bought it on impulse after falling in love with the cover art. After thoroughly digesting that disc I went on to buy every Living Color album, sans their most recent, and have continued to be an avid fan of Vernon's work. I found out about the 10/27/2007 show in Staten Island through his MySpace page, and bought second-row seats to the show a month in advance. The chance to see one of my musical heroes live on stage this late in his career was something that I was not about to pass up.
Allow me to expound upon my reasoning behind adoring Mr Reid's work. Vernon Reid, simply put is a musician who faithfully weaves his music around the very idea that music is something to be enjoyed by the listener as well as the performer. Though he is undeniably a guitar player of awe-inspiring skill, he doesn't let that constrict his musical style nor dictate how he conveys his ideas through his instrument of choice. His music is passionate, yet he never falls into the pit of self-indulgent meedle-ing, shredding, and wah-ing his way through track after track of solo material. He delights in textures, sustains, grooves, and flowing improvisation. His encyclopedic knowledge of guitar styles combines with his musical vision to produce unique and original music that has room for many different artists and instruments.
Vernon Reid has a vision for music that doesn't always involve him.
He sees music as a way of communication, possibly more so than it as an art form. Living Color was an outlet for certain ideas, but not others. Reid's own solo albums contain material and themes that he deemed not necessarily 'unfit' for Living Color, but rather better expressed through a different channel - much like a clothes designer chooses a model to display certain fashion styles but not others. Vernon chooses different ways to express what he wants to say to the world, and that in turn allows endless possibilities for reaching people through music. This is what makes him a great musician.
Honestly the only reason I as interested in the concert was because Vernon Reid was performing. I have been a huge fan of Vernon's ever since I found his Mistaken Identity album on a rack of CDs in a Japanese used-media shop and bought it on impulse after falling in love with the cover art. After thoroughly digesting that disc I went on to buy every Living Color album, sans their most recent, and have continued to be an avid fan of Vernon's work. I found out about the 10/27/2007 show in Staten Island through his MySpace page, and bought second-row seats to the show a month in advance. The chance to see one of my musical heroes live on stage this late in his career was something that I was not about to pass up.
Allow me to expound upon my reasoning behind adoring Mr Reid's work. Vernon Reid, simply put is a musician who faithfully weaves his music around the very idea that music is something to be enjoyed by the listener as well as the performer. Though he is undeniably a guitar player of awe-inspiring skill, he doesn't let that constrict his musical style nor dictate how he conveys his ideas through his instrument of choice. His music is passionate, yet he never falls into the pit of self-indulgent meedle-ing, shredding, and wah-ing his way through track after track of solo material. He delights in textures, sustains, grooves, and flowing improvisation. His encyclopedic knowledge of guitar styles combines with his musical vision to produce unique and original music that has room for many different artists and instruments.
Vernon Reid has a vision for music that doesn't always involve him.
He sees music as a way of communication, possibly more so than it as an art form. Living Color was an outlet for certain ideas, but not others. Reid's own solo albums contain material and themes that he deemed not necessarily 'unfit' for Living Color, but rather better expressed through a different channel - much like a clothes designer chooses a model to display certain fashion styles but not others. Vernon chooses different ways to express what he wants to say to the world, and that in turn allows endless possibilities for reaching people through music. This is what makes him a great musician.
10.22.2007
Brief updates from various spaces in my life
-I recently sold my candy-apple red Fender strat copy to instead invest in a 25-key USB/MIDI controller. It has a pitch-bend wheel, which excites me greatly.
-Speaking of 'excite', whatever happened to www.excite.com? Does anyone even care about it anymore? It made the Internet so exciting(tm)!
-I am keeping up with the respective season four's of both The Office and House, M.D. via torrent. Both are sufficiently awesome.
-My car has been in the shop for about 17 of the last 21 days. More on that after I finish Part 3 of my extravaganza.
-I have rocked Medium on Guitar Hero II to the point of unlocking the Viking Guitar (five stars on all songs). I also have started playing Gran Turismo 4.
-I pre-ordered Mac OS 10.5 Leopard, along with two gigs of RAM for my Macbook. Thoughts on that when they arrive later this week!
-The new Radiohead album, available for free via download, was downloaded by me within 15 minutes of release. Dare I call it their best album since Kid A?
-I am gearing up for No-Spend November, a month of buying nothing that isn't completely necessary. This means no new music, movies, being content with water for lunches, not going anywhere that requires tolls, etc. Let's see how much money I can save!
-Cute girls!
-Speaking of 'excite', whatever happened to www.excite.com? Does anyone even care about it anymore? It made the Internet so exciting(tm)!
-I am keeping up with the respective season four's of both The Office and House, M.D. via torrent. Both are sufficiently awesome.
-My car has been in the shop for about 17 of the last 21 days. More on that after I finish Part 3 of my extravaganza.
-I have rocked Medium on Guitar Hero II to the point of unlocking the Viking Guitar (five stars on all songs). I also have started playing Gran Turismo 4.
-I pre-ordered Mac OS 10.5 Leopard, along with two gigs of RAM for my Macbook. Thoughts on that when they arrive later this week!
-The new Radiohead album, available for free via download, was downloaded by me within 15 minutes of release. Dare I call it their best album since Kid A?
-I am gearing up for No-Spend November, a month of buying nothing that isn't completely necessary. This means no new music, movies, being content with water for lunches, not going anywhere that requires tolls, etc. Let's see how much money I can save!
-Cute girls!
10.07.2007
Work goodness
As some of you may know, I work at a car dealership. Here is a bit of what's been going on lately.
1. By what I can only call the grace of God, I backed up to within
2. I received a job of removing all of the auction stickers from recently purchased cars that came to the lot. I took all of the stickers and put them on my co-workers car. Awesome.
1. By what I can only call the grace of God, I backed up to within
a few millimeters of hitting a very expensive BMW. I completely forgot that it was parked behind me. God just made me stop my truck before I hit the car - that's the only way I can explain it. The pictures will show you what I mean.
2. I received a job of removing all of the auction stickers from recently purchased cars that came to the lot. I took all of the stickers and put them on my co-workers car. Awesome.
10.01.2007
The Super Great Car-Finding Saga Extravaganza – Part Two
(The title of this blog is not pretentious at all.)
When we last left off here, I had returned home after getting shafted by the car salesman at Easy Buy Auto Sales. Completely disregarding that, I called him the next day to set up a test drive on the following Monday. My hopes were high and my eyebrows bristled with anticipation.
Monday morning found me at the car lot with two friends, Joe and Danielle. The salesman had nicely offered to bring the Jag down from the lot, and arrived at the lot at 9:15, ten minutes after we had arrived. The Jag needed a quick jump, and then we were on our way. Naturally I drove, and Joe sat next to me and Danielle sat in the back and complained about the loose, dangling headliner. In all fairness to her, it was pretty gross - I mean, who knows how many old peoples’ hair it had touched!?
It’s rather hard to describe the feeling that welled up inside of me when I had both hands on the wheel of a luxury car, my butt firmly in a well-worn seat, driving a smooth in-line V-6 that purrs like a cat next to a hot water bottle. The low growl of the finely tuned engine, still in tip-top shape after all these years, was soon ambient noise as the rolling green hillsides and shady, tree-lined avenues whizzed by. The car handled extremely well, and all the outside lights worked. About five minutes into the test drive, however, I noticed that my speedometer, odometer, and gas gauge weren’t moving. Um, that could be problematic.
I really don’t know how it took me so long to notice that. I guess I was too preoccupied with listening to the engine and transmission, and testing the brakes.
I got us lost on the test drive, and we ended up on the backroads of Chester County for about twenty minutes. When we made it safely and legally back to the dealer, I asked the guy, Doug, about the issue. He said that the car had been sitting on the lot for seven months, but had recently passed inspection. Apparently since then the board controlling the three gauges had failed. That seemed fishy. I told him I would be in contact and left for work.
Once back in familiar surroundings, I started asking people I knew their opinions of my prospective purchase. I learned that the speedo and odo board failing was a common problem in older European luxury cars, and the fix could be as easy as some re-wiring or as expensive as a $400 board replacement. Strike one. My friend Tony, who sells cars for a living, had this bit of advice for me.
“Dann, I sell cars for a living. I don’t try to sell Jags. People actively buy Jags. I never recommend a Jag to anyone. In my opinion they aren’t well made cars, and, in fact, I think an’85 Jag is the worst possible choice for a car for you. The Brits don’t know how to make a dam car. Buy something you can get parts for easily – ideally a Japanese import.”
This sounded like very good advice to me. I decided that pursuing the novelty of owning a Jag was not in my best interest at this time in my life, or possibly ever. It would have been cool to be able to say, “Yeah, my first car was a Jaguar,” but paying through the nose for specialized imported parts would have thrown a wet blanket on that really fast, I feared. The Jag would have to sit on the lot for a bit longer.
Fear not, dear readers, part three is near.
When we last left off here, I had returned home after getting shafted by the car salesman at Easy Buy Auto Sales. Completely disregarding that, I called him the next day to set up a test drive on the following Monday. My hopes were high and my eyebrows bristled with anticipation.
Monday morning found me at the car lot with two friends, Joe and Danielle. The salesman had nicely offered to bring the Jag down from the lot, and arrived at the lot at 9:15, ten minutes after we had arrived. The Jag needed a quick jump, and then we were on our way. Naturally I drove, and Joe sat next to me and Danielle sat in the back and complained about the loose, dangling headliner. In all fairness to her, it was pretty gross - I mean, who knows how many old peoples’ hair it had touched!?
It’s rather hard to describe the feeling that welled up inside of me when I had both hands on the wheel of a luxury car, my butt firmly in a well-worn seat, driving a smooth in-line V-6 that purrs like a cat next to a hot water bottle. The low growl of the finely tuned engine, still in tip-top shape after all these years, was soon ambient noise as the rolling green hillsides and shady, tree-lined avenues whizzed by. The car handled extremely well, and all the outside lights worked. About five minutes into the test drive, however, I noticed that my speedometer, odometer, and gas gauge weren’t moving. Um, that could be problematic.
I really don’t know how it took me so long to notice that. I guess I was too preoccupied with listening to the engine and transmission, and testing the brakes.
I got us lost on the test drive, and we ended up on the backroads of Chester County for about twenty minutes. When we made it safely and legally back to the dealer, I asked the guy, Doug, about the issue. He said that the car had been sitting on the lot for seven months, but had recently passed inspection. Apparently since then the board controlling the three gauges had failed. That seemed fishy. I told him I would be in contact and left for work.
Once back in familiar surroundings, I started asking people I knew their opinions of my prospective purchase. I learned that the speedo and odo board failing was a common problem in older European luxury cars, and the fix could be as easy as some re-wiring or as expensive as a $400 board replacement. Strike one. My friend Tony, who sells cars for a living, had this bit of advice for me.
“Dann, I sell cars for a living. I don’t try to sell Jags. People actively buy Jags. I never recommend a Jag to anyone. In my opinion they aren’t well made cars, and, in fact, I think an’85 Jag is the worst possible choice for a car for you. The Brits don’t know how to make a dam car. Buy something you can get parts for easily – ideally a Japanese import.”
This sounded like very good advice to me. I decided that pursuing the novelty of owning a Jag was not in my best interest at this time in my life, or possibly ever. It would have been cool to be able to say, “Yeah, my first car was a Jaguar,” but paying through the nose for specialized imported parts would have thrown a wet blanket on that really fast, I feared. The Jag would have to sit on the lot for a bit longer.
Fear not, dear readers, part three is near.
9.28.2007
The Super Great Car-Finding Saga Extravaganza – Part One
(The title of this blog is not pretentious at all.)
Since my arrival in the United States a month ago, I have been trying to procure a mode of reliable transportation. My host family has, until now, generously allowed me to use one of their cars, but I did not want to get used to using that and thus have been actively looking for a car over the past month. At first I thought about buying a motorcycle, but then thought about the cold, frigid, and also freezing climate of Pennsylvania during the winter months and decided against certain death brought upon by slick asphalt and two thin wheels. So, a car it is.
I had fairly simple criteria for finding a car. Seeing as I am not rich nor an extravagant spender, nor am I stupid, I had to set a budget, which I decided to be $1-3k. I figured $3000 would get me a good-enough car and, at the same time by only looking above $1000 I would weed out any really crappy cars. My initial criteria were a running car with four doors and less than 100,000 miles. It was pretty simple.
I started my search how any post-teenage boy equipped with a laptop would – by searching online. By making routine searches of four major used-car websites, Cars.com, Autotrader.com, Craigslist Philadelphia, and Ebay.com, I began to compile a list of possible cars to check out, as well as if my criteria were reasonable considering the current market conditions. Based on my research, the $3000-and-under car market seemed to be booming.
My first lead on a car lead me to Easy Buy Auto Sales of Coatesville, PA. They had a 1985 Jaguar XJ6 listed on Cars.com for $2995 with 83k on the odometer and a new alternator (new, direct from Jaguar – not exactly a cheap part to replace). My friend Joe graciously agreed to accompany me to the dealer, so we hopped in the car and drove the 10 miles or so to get there. Below is an actual transcription of our conversation in the house before leaving.
“Hey Joe. Playing Guitar Hero again, I see.”
“Indeed, as it is loads of fun.”
“So I found this 1989 Jaguar online, and it has 150,000 miles on it. Private seller. Two grand.”
“Bangin’.”
“Yes, indeed. But oh, wait, here’s a cooler-looking Jag for $2995 and it’s ten miles away! Lets go!”
“Ok, sure.”
So, just like that, Joe dropped Guitar Hero and we drove to the dealer. We got there around 6:30 and walked around the tiny lot looking for the Jag. This wandering took much longer than it should have, seeing as lot had only one car of each major body style on it and was about as big as some living rooms I’ve had the pleasure of lounging in. We finally resorted to asking the salesman inside the barely-furnished office as to where exactly the car was.
“Oh,” he replied, “it’s up in the other lot we have. It’s right around the corner here. That’s a good car, man. Big strong engine with a smooth tranny in that car. Runs really well. They put airplane engines in those cars, man. It’s amazing!”
He was a little too enthusiastic. His sales pitch wasn't bad until he threw that bit in about the airplane engine. Then I felt like he was trying to sell me a collector’s novelty item instead of a car. Nonetheless, Joe and I decided to go up to the other lot and look at the car. We found it easily enough, and I was disappointed that it looked smaller in real life than in the pictures. No matter, though. Hmmm, cream paint with a red interior. Classy.
The exterior looked decent enough. A few rust spots here and there, and some fading paint. The tires looked under-inflated, but the car had been sitting on the lot for about six months. As Joe and I tried the doors we discovered that the rear passenger side door no longer locked, thus giving us free access to the inside of the car. We of course hopped in and had a look around. The inside was really clean, and, barring a really torn up leather driver’s seat, I was really pleased with what I saw. We couldn't really do any more than sit in it and admire how good we looked in it, so we did that before hopping back into Joe’s car and driving back to the dealer. We got back only to find that the salesman and skedaddled home, leaving us nothing to do but return home ourselves.
We would be back.
Since my arrival in the United States a month ago, I have been trying to procure a mode of reliable transportation. My host family has, until now, generously allowed me to use one of their cars, but I did not want to get used to using that and thus have been actively looking for a car over the past month. At first I thought about buying a motorcycle, but then thought about the cold, frigid, and also freezing climate of Pennsylvania during the winter months and decided against certain death brought upon by slick asphalt and two thin wheels. So, a car it is.
I had fairly simple criteria for finding a car. Seeing as I am not rich nor an extravagant spender, nor am I stupid, I had to set a budget, which I decided to be $1-3k. I figured $3000 would get me a good-enough car and, at the same time by only looking above $1000 I would weed out any really crappy cars. My initial criteria were a running car with four doors and less than 100,000 miles. It was pretty simple.
I started my search how any post-teenage boy equipped with a laptop would – by searching online. By making routine searches of four major used-car websites, Cars.com, Autotrader.com, Craigslist Philadelphia, and Ebay.com, I began to compile a list of possible cars to check out, as well as if my criteria were reasonable considering the current market conditions. Based on my research, the $3000-and-under car market seemed to be booming.
My first lead on a car lead me to Easy Buy Auto Sales of Coatesville, PA. They had a 1985 Jaguar XJ6 listed on Cars.com for $2995 with 83k on the odometer and a new alternator (new, direct from Jaguar – not exactly a cheap part to replace). My friend Joe graciously agreed to accompany me to the dealer, so we hopped in the car and drove the 10 miles or so to get there. Below is an actual transcription of our conversation in the house before leaving.
“Hey Joe. Playing Guitar Hero again, I see.”
“Indeed, as it is loads of fun.”
“So I found this 1989 Jaguar online, and it has 150,000 miles on it. Private seller. Two grand.”
“Bangin’.”
“Yes, indeed. But oh, wait, here’s a cooler-looking Jag for $2995 and it’s ten miles away! Lets go!”
“Ok, sure.”
So, just like that, Joe dropped Guitar Hero and we drove to the dealer. We got there around 6:30 and walked around the tiny lot looking for the Jag. This wandering took much longer than it should have, seeing as lot had only one car of each major body style on it and was about as big as some living rooms I’ve had the pleasure of lounging in. We finally resorted to asking the salesman inside the barely-furnished office as to where exactly the car was.
“Oh,” he replied, “it’s up in the other lot we have. It’s right around the corner here. That’s a good car, man. Big strong engine with a smooth tranny in that car. Runs really well. They put airplane engines in those cars, man. It’s amazing!”
He was a little too enthusiastic. His sales pitch wasn't bad until he threw that bit in about the airplane engine. Then I felt like he was trying to sell me a collector’s novelty item instead of a car. Nonetheless, Joe and I decided to go up to the other lot and look at the car. We found it easily enough, and I was disappointed that it looked smaller in real life than in the pictures. No matter, though. Hmmm, cream paint with a red interior. Classy.
The exterior looked decent enough. A few rust spots here and there, and some fading paint. The tires looked under-inflated, but the car had been sitting on the lot for about six months. As Joe and I tried the doors we discovered that the rear passenger side door no longer locked, thus giving us free access to the inside of the car. We of course hopped in and had a look around. The inside was really clean, and, barring a really torn up leather driver’s seat, I was really pleased with what I saw. We couldn't really do any more than sit in it and admire how good we looked in it, so we did that before hopping back into Joe’s car and driving back to the dealer. We got back only to find that the salesman and skedaddled home, leaving us nothing to do but return home ourselves.We would be back.
9.11.2007
Oceans of Confusion
Distant. I feel distant as I sit here in a booth on my former college campus where I am visiting for a day. I feel disconnected from the student body, from people whom I still call friends; from people whom I spent my days with just five months ago as a fellow student. I know their names, their hobbies, their likes and dislikes, yet I feel that we live in two worlds apart. My decision to leave college was not in the least of my own choosing, but I still feel as though I deserted it. I feel like a foreigner in a place that still welcomes me and enjoys my company. In this way I suppose that this institution of higher learning is not unlike anywhere else I have left, whether it be country, city, house, or home. It is not unusual for me to return to places I have left behind, because I find value in unearthing old memories and experiences. Nostalgia can be a lot of fun if done in moderation. Returning to my old college however, is different. My emotions are twisted, and my feelings chaotic.
Coming back here is not nostalgic.
I am not a different person now - I have not changed since I left college. Before, I could take comfort in being able to associate nostalgia with maturing. I could look back and associate a place with a certain maturity level I was at and could chart my progress as a human being by counting how many times I had changed surroundings. This college, however, is still somewhere I want to be. I feel displaced, and unfairly at that. I feel cheated and taunted by fate.
Of course, it was my own decision to return and visit. Nobody dragged me here and made me socialize with these people. Perhaps I return in hopes of staying relevant, in hopes of retaining former relationships, and in hopes of remembering why I am working my fingers to the bone to return to college. I want these relationships, and I want this community. This is a place where I have much more growing yet to do.
All my life I have felt, to one degree or another, unwelcome in a place where I belonged but did not fit into. For the first time, I feel welcome in a place where I fit in but do not belong.
(for the time being)
Coming back here is not nostalgic.
I am not a different person now - I have not changed since I left college. Before, I could take comfort in being able to associate nostalgia with maturing. I could look back and associate a place with a certain maturity level I was at and could chart my progress as a human being by counting how many times I had changed surroundings. This college, however, is still somewhere I want to be. I feel displaced, and unfairly at that. I feel cheated and taunted by fate.
Of course, it was my own decision to return and visit. Nobody dragged me here and made me socialize with these people. Perhaps I return in hopes of staying relevant, in hopes of retaining former relationships, and in hopes of remembering why I am working my fingers to the bone to return to college. I want these relationships, and I want this community. This is a place where I have much more growing yet to do.
All my life I have felt, to one degree or another, unwelcome in a place where I belonged but did not fit into. For the first time, I feel welcome in a place where I fit in but do not belong.
(for the time being)
8.29.2007
The Sound of Goodbye
Here I sit on a trans-pacific flight, a tag groggy after a light nap. I am embarking (or perhaps disembarking) on a great adventure. Today finds me leaving my much-loved country of Japan, the land I have called home for as long as I could identify a ‘home’, and the land that has been my actual physical home for fourteen of my twenty years. This departure comes with a feeling of sadness, more aptly described by ‘pang‘ then the ‘tinge’ I have felt so often before when boarding an aircraft for a foreign country. Indeed, sometimes I have felt very little sorrow when leaving Japan, but I was much younger back then, and a lot less wise.
As a missionary kid who is uprooted every at least every four years and forced to adapt to a new environment, I have never been a stranger to change. Most time I faced it with courage, ready to tackle the new challenge ahead with the support of a loving family and a rambunctious younger brother. In truth, change is now so ingrained in me that I find myself feeling uneasy and yearning for a new setting every few years, a change of routine that I can re-accustom myself too. Yes, I have become accommodated to travel - to constantly seek broader horizons and brighter vistas.
So then, in light of that explanation, what set of circumstances have me feeling pangs of sorrow upon what will be my 25th airplane flight in 20 years? The answer is pretty straight forward - every other time, I had plans of returning. This time I embark for the United States unsure of when I will return to Japan, the closest place to a home that I have. I will arrive in America with plans to begin work, purchase vehicular transportation, and launch out on my own. I cannot do this in Japan. Japan, as it stands now, represents a safe place; somewhere too familiar for me to take risks and challenge myself. At this point in my life, I feel that I can do no more growing in Japan. I need a change. And for the first time in my life I have no plans made to return to my parents. I believe this is healthy for me.
But it is not easy. Tearful goodbyes were said to my mother and father. People who are close friends of mine in Japan I shared a last beer with; unsure of when I will see them again.
At the same time, the silver lining is bright. One of the upsides of the missionary-travel lifestyle is that almost everyone you know travels just as much as you do, and therefore you always have an a completely unexpected reunion to look forward too. (Who would have known that you would both happen to be in Tierra del Fuego in October!) A lifetime of traveling has made us flexible, and spontaneous schedule changes cause unexpected meetings. These moments I can look forward too. A goodbye can never be fully accepted, because hope is always present.
This past weekend then I fully packed up my room, loaded my suitcases in the car, and rode with my dad to the airport. Long car rides like that are always so hard. On one hand you want to get as much conversation as possible, with this person whom you are soon to leave, into the ever-diminishing time remaining. On the other hand, conversation is very hard to force. If you genuinely don’t have anything to talk about, you end up waiting for your plane alone, full of manufactured regret. Fortunately, this did not happen to me this time around. The goodbye with my father was of course quite hard. I respect the man so much, and it is hard to part with someone who you know loves you and wants what’s best for you, even if that means you leaving him. Holding back the tears I made my way to the gate.
As I rounded a corner I saw a shop attendant standing in front of her duty-free store with a plate of free samples. “Man, what a boring job,” I thought. Seriously, who wants to stand there all day holding a tray? What was on the tray, however, a complimentary shot of a premium Scotch, was very much appreciated and immediately brought a smile to my face. God bless Japan.
All of the mundane boarding procedures went smoothly, and I soon found myself sitting in a seat with ample legroom. I whipped out a book on Leninism that I had stuck in my briefcase and proceeded to devour chapter one and regurgitate detailed notes, all the while munching on the complimentary, well-packaged pretzels and sipping a can of Sapporo beer. Though there is something very blue-collar and perhaps even proletariat about drinking beer and reading Lenin, they don’t quite go well together.
Also, yay for nice stewardesses. Yay!
I will soon land, get my life in order, and boldly take on whatever challenges come my way, knowing that my family and friends support me from afar. Which, when you think about it, is becoming closer and closer with each day that passes. Far is never too far when your whole life revolves around travel.
As a missionary kid who is uprooted every at least every four years and forced to adapt to a new environment, I have never been a stranger to change. Most time I faced it with courage, ready to tackle the new challenge ahead with the support of a loving family and a rambunctious younger brother. In truth, change is now so ingrained in me that I find myself feeling uneasy and yearning for a new setting every few years, a change of routine that I can re-accustom myself too. Yes, I have become accommodated to travel - to constantly seek broader horizons and brighter vistas.
So then, in light of that explanation, what set of circumstances have me feeling pangs of sorrow upon what will be my 25th airplane flight in 20 years? The answer is pretty straight forward - every other time, I had plans of returning. This time I embark for the United States unsure of when I will return to Japan, the closest place to a home that I have. I will arrive in America with plans to begin work, purchase vehicular transportation, and launch out on my own. I cannot do this in Japan. Japan, as it stands now, represents a safe place; somewhere too familiar for me to take risks and challenge myself. At this point in my life, I feel that I can do no more growing in Japan. I need a change. And for the first time in my life I have no plans made to return to my parents. I believe this is healthy for me.
But it is not easy. Tearful goodbyes were said to my mother and father. People who are close friends of mine in Japan I shared a last beer with; unsure of when I will see them again.
At the same time, the silver lining is bright. One of the upsides of the missionary-travel lifestyle is that almost everyone you know travels just as much as you do, and therefore you always have an a completely unexpected reunion to look forward too. (Who would have known that you would both happen to be in Tierra del Fuego in October!) A lifetime of traveling has made us flexible, and spontaneous schedule changes cause unexpected meetings. These moments I can look forward too. A goodbye can never be fully accepted, because hope is always present.
This past weekend then I fully packed up my room, loaded my suitcases in the car, and rode with my dad to the airport. Long car rides like that are always so hard. On one hand you want to get as much conversation as possible, with this person whom you are soon to leave, into the ever-diminishing time remaining. On the other hand, conversation is very hard to force. If you genuinely don’t have anything to talk about, you end up waiting for your plane alone, full of manufactured regret. Fortunately, this did not happen to me this time around. The goodbye with my father was of course quite hard. I respect the man so much, and it is hard to part with someone who you know loves you and wants what’s best for you, even if that means you leaving him. Holding back the tears I made my way to the gate.
As I rounded a corner I saw a shop attendant standing in front of her duty-free store with a plate of free samples. “Man, what a boring job,” I thought. Seriously, who wants to stand there all day holding a tray? What was on the tray, however, a complimentary shot of a premium Scotch, was very much appreciated and immediately brought a smile to my face. God bless Japan.
All of the mundane boarding procedures went smoothly, and I soon found myself sitting in a seat with ample legroom. I whipped out a book on Leninism that I had stuck in my briefcase and proceeded to devour chapter one and regurgitate detailed notes, all the while munching on the complimentary, well-packaged pretzels and sipping a can of Sapporo beer. Though there is something very blue-collar and perhaps even proletariat about drinking beer and reading Lenin, they don’t quite go well together.
Also, yay for nice stewardesses. Yay!
I will soon land, get my life in order, and boldly take on whatever challenges come my way, knowing that my family and friends support me from afar. Which, when you think about it, is becoming closer and closer with each day that passes. Far is never too far when your whole life revolves around travel.
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