Not a Weeaboo: On tequila, life goals and homesickness

Now this may be really pretentious of me to say, but you haven't lived unless you've been in a really sketchy bar in Tokyo at 2 a.m., downing tequila shots while people chant your name.

In Tokyo, I'm living the life I will one day be telling my grandkids about, and I am madly in love with every second of it, so going to Stockholm was obviously something that was a bit dreaded. Incoming: I'm totally going to unload what's been going on the past week. Wall of text incoming!
I originally went out last Thursday to say bye to Natto, who's moving back to Australia around Christmas time. I thought I wouldn't be out late, seeing as I needed to pack and all, but ended up with Birdie, another coworker who didn't want to go home either, going to a really seedy bar and getting caught up in the middle of a farewell party for some dude going to Myanmar for three years. They bought shots for everyone at the bar, which included us, and we bonded over our love of Japan, our mutual shitty ex-boyfriends and the things we'd do to G-Dragon that we wouldn't dare speak out loud. Like holy hell, why had I not talked to this girl before? We'd clearly both been missing that one female companion that couldn't make friends with other girls either, and we got on like a house on fire. We ended up both lamenting the ten days I'd be gone (which meant I'd be missing the invitation to go drink with the random people from the bar on the 28th), but made plans to do our Tokyo version of the k-pop drinking game whenever possible. I think I may have gotten a new ally.

This is just what I've wanted for my otherwise awesome Tokyo life. A female confidant! And you can bet your ass we're going back to that glorious bar sometime in the future. I mean, the bar staff know our names now, we're practically patrons already.

In some ways, Tokyo is like Hogwarts. You find an awesome hole-in-the-wall place, and the second you look away it's gone forever, only as some kind of distant memory. There's no way you'll find it again. This place felt like one of those. The way Birdie described it, I thought we'd never get there, but lo and behold, there it was, nestled between a bunch of other random places. I wonder if it'll be there next time we go out looking for it. Just like with Hogwarts, these places seem to open up when you need them to. Birdie and I had been vibing a bit before, and clearly needed an arena to let that bloom into one of those omg-I-think-you're-fucking-amazing-let's-be-Japan-BFFs things. We were both amazed by how alike we were in so many ways. I'm getting pretty excited about what kind of crazy shit we can get into when I get back home.

Getting ready for leaving felt really weird. I had to move the Tomsons to my colleague Mark the Russell Brand's place (seriously, if you'd see him you'd just know he was Russell Brand), and seeing the sad, empty space on the bookcase and not hearing their quiet bubbliness was far sadder than I was expecting. The Tomsons really are a part of my home. It's hard to imagine them not being around.

Two of my students took the effort to actually give me Christmas presents, which really made me feel good about what I do. I do try very hard, so having people come in specifically to give me a Christmas present even when they didn't have a lesson with me was really heartwarming. Cookies and face masks, I mean, what else could a girl need? It makes me feel quietly excited about starting work again next year. I like this job far more than I could've ever thought I would.

So yeah, anyways, after all of that, it was time to travel to Sweden.

This plane had EXO in their plane radio. I approve of this plane.

Seriously, it was my kind of plane.

Coming back to Sweden was making me feel seriously anxious. I was looking forward to some stuff, but knowing that there'd be a whole lot of family time, which means a whole lot of family tension, in addition to seeing the Philosopher and trying to sort out my life, and I'd just rather... you know, not. The whole responsibility thing just isn't my cup of tea.

Sure enough, mom and I had a fight about money (my student loans, which cause me to lose sleep even without her yelling at me about it), which caused me to completely freak out on the inside and need to hide in the basement for a while to not be seen as the shallow-breathing, sobbing mess I was for a while. Money freaks me out, and when people get on my case about it in an aggressive way, I don't handle it very well. Combine that with trying to put a needlessly complicated gingerbread house together, spilling boiling melted sugar on my thumb, effectively melting away my skin, I was not a very relaxed or happy camper there for a while. I felt extremely homesick, and tried texting T for support, saying I wanted to go home and I kinda wished I'd stayed in Tokyo, only to have him reprimand me for being a whiny child and tell me to learn my mom's meatball recipe instead. As far as sympathy goes, T clearly isn't my man, but I guess he was right. Homesick or not, coming back was the best decision, and yes, I do tend to be a whiny child at times, especially when jet lag, tension and melted skin are involved. I think most people would be.

Pictured: An extremely kitchy version of the Totoro house.

It doesn't look so bad here, but when it was fresh, it was a ridge of all things gross.

Feeling homesick feels pretty good though. I don't think I've ever thought a place to be home to the extent that I missed it like that before. Even just going to the airport, I felt some serious tugs on my heartstrings. It's nice to have a place to miss, a place to come home to.

I got to see Pony for the first time in forever, and let me just tell you that it was the one thing I've wanted to do for the longest time. Squid Squad reassemble!

We pretty much picked up right where we left off, drinking tea, talking about boys and cuddling with much emotion and weird nicknames. Coming back and having everything be exactly the same made me so happy and at home. The important things don't change, do they? Best friends stay best friends. That's some legit True Love™ right there. In a way, that even made it easier to leave the next day - I could feel comfortable and confident in the fact that the world doesn't have to change completely just because I'm gone. Pony and I will prevail.

Seeing the Philosopher and saying goodbye was one of those things I was dreading the most about my trip. I was expecting yelling and drama and just general shit that makes you go "fuck this, I'm done", and was instead met with an (admittedly slightly stiff) adult conversation and a lot of mutual understanding. It was pretty much a very calm, sad funeral for our relationship, and while heartbreaking, it was good to clear the air, and for both of us to just kinda go "No, we're not doing this anymore, even if we wish it would've worked out differently". I'm hoping some kind of friendship survived, and that we're 'okay' now, however the hell you would classify 'okay' in this emotional mess. You sit there on the couch where you used to watch Twin Peaks while eating cherry pie, and you remember all this great shit that happened and how much fun you had, and you just know that it's all over. Having it sink in after seeing him again makes me feel like there's this gaping space in my chest, and how much my crazy Tinder antics has just been like me trying to fix that shit with duct tape while powering on at a warp speed, full force. I should try to be a little less reckless with my heart.

The Puppy met me at the station with all the hugs and cuddles in the world, taking me shopping at sample stores and generally doing stuff I needed him to do to get my mind off all the hard, serious stuff I'd just had to deal with and instead exchange it for some frivolous shit. I love me some frivolous shit. We had burgers, got wasted, watched Death Proof and had the laziest morning after ever. I love it when meeting people after a long time is so drama free - we just do whatever we used to do, and everyone's happy, nothing is weird.

"Being with you has been the one time in my life where I've ever felt cool," the Philosopher told me. Having always been the dorky kid that got picked on, from moving to Sweden in the second grade all the way up to my second year of high school in Liverpool, I have a really hard time understanding that I can count as cool in any way, shape or form. It just doesn't compute. The Puppy has always been very open in his complete admiration, but I thought it was just on account of him being young, more than any special coolness on my part. However, looking at where I am and who I've become, I find myself understanding it a bit. I feel a little like a self-entitled asshole for saying it, but I've started to feel pretty cool. My life is the way i dreamed it to be (although perhaps a little more broke than I would've wanted it to be). I honestly didn't think that would happen. Before I moved, while preparing, I had a Henry David Thoreau quote taped to my door, which said:

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined.

To actually feel like you're doing that does in fact feel pretty cool. I know that not everyone has been blessed with my ability to say 'fuck it' and take off across the globe, but I wish more people would. Feeling free has put me in touch with myself in this amazing way that I didn't know it could, and I've come to the conclusion that I kinda like myself. I like who I've become. I think that shines through, that being relaxed attracts people - the right kind of people, and I'm pretty excited to see what happens next. I hope I will just get cooler, and can meet the expectations of the people who hold me in such high regard. I hope I never turn lame.