Old Blue Eyes

"You're eyes are blue."
"Yep. Yes, they are."
"That's soo cool!"
I open my eyes wide until I feel the stretch on my eyeballs.
"Do any Japanese people have blue eyes?" I ask.
"No."
"None?"
"No, none."
I wonder what that would be like to not know the possibility of different colored eyes. I know people in America born of the same parents who have different colored eyes.
They ask me why my shirt is so colorful.
"Because I'm American," I say, but that's not the real answer. The real answer is, "Because I'm Luther." That's what people are seeing when they see me. You have to make generalizations about some things though. Otherwise, how could you ever know anything?

The conversation changes to shimoneta - bad Japanese words you're not supposed to say - or more accurately, my kids trying to get me to say a few of those words to the other senseis. I'm one step ahead of them though. I usually don't say anything at all.

This has been a bit damning, though understandable. Recognizing it is the first step to change. I could run through all of the excuses, "They're too busy," or "I'll embarrass myself," or worse "I'll embarrass them." Another oft used line, "I'm the foreigner, they should make the initiative and talk to me." I've found so few people who are willing to initiate conversation, and none who will speak Japanese with me. I imagine their lives rolling on like mine did back in the states, only noticing the foreign born in my peripheries. How lonely and sad life must have been for some of the exchange students at UWEC. I wish I could go back and do it over again. I'd take people to the grocery store, buy them American snacks, teach them jokes and slang, hang out with them on a Friday night. What an important opportunity I missed, all because I could only see to the end of my personal bubble, a bubble I had inflated and marked with delicacy, one to be heavily guarded as if it were important. There were people back there, waiting for me. But somehow I found myself too busy with Mountain Dew cans, sunflower seeds, and games of online backgammon. How many games did I play in those brief years?

I learned a new definition of the word "ruminating" today. It's a psychology definition. It's classified as an addiction, but most people who have it don't know it. It's closely tied with depression and anxiety. It's a definition I've always lived with, but never known. Knowing - recognizing - is the first step.

The words to a poem I wrote 6 or 7 years ago come back to me:

"...I think so much I think I'll puke..."

Thinking is supposed to be a good thing, but when you think in a circle and wonder why your thinking never brings you anywhere.... desukedo...

I pray my thoughts are a reflection and not a rumination. I will work on this.