"When I met you in 1990, you said that you'd marry the man who'd follow you around the world. We were just sophomores in high school, so I didn't know what to think. I thought it was just some school girl romantic fantasy. All I knew was that you were the girl for me. We were only 15 years old, but I had this feeling that you'd play a major role in my life. After we graduated from Aragon High School in San Mateo, you revealed to me that you were accepted to Berkeley, but you wanted to go to Germany for college. Remember that night we spent ice skating at Fashion Island? You said that you loved me, but you had to cut off all ties with to be able to move on. That was the last time I ever saw you. I said I'd wait for you, but you told me not to and to just move on...but I remember what you said sophomore year.
You were accepted at the University of Tübingen, Berlin. I left home for Berlin. For 4 years I looked for you. You made the impact you always did in Berlin. People heard of you, but didn't know where you were. Nobody helped me. I wasn't good enough for Tübingen, so I attended Technische Universität Berlin where I earned a degree. I am now fluent in German, a language I never intended to learn. After graduation, I returned to San Mateo thinking you returned as well. I called your mother on the summer after you graduated; she said you had left for grad school in Tokyo. I left again, this time, to Tokyo. Auf Wiedersehen.
Your father said you are studying business at Keio University in Tokyo. I looked all over Tokyo for you. From the morning rush at Shinjuku Station, to the last train on the Tozai-line bound for Nakano. You were never found. To make ends meet, I got a job at NOVA, and then in 1998 I got a real job at DoCoMo. I fell in love with Japan and its culture. I learned the language, and I am now fluent. Another language I never intended to learn. I went to the graduate office at Keio University's school of business seeing if you were set to graduate. There you were, on the list. I was denied entry to the ceremony since I had no tie to anyone graduating. That was the closest I had ever come to seeing you since grad night back in high school. Two months after graduation, I resigned from DoCoMo. I received an email from your cousin (You know, Jerry's ex-girlfriend) saying you had gotten a job in Hong Kong. I left my friends, my job, my home, my fiancé, and everything Tokyo gave me to search for you. I'm so sorry Mizuki. Kima wa itsumo kokoro no naka ni iru.
It was 1999, and I had just arrived in Hong Kong, and so did you. Six months later, I found out you had left Hong Kong because you didn't enjoy your new job. From Causeway Bay to Kowloon, there were traces of you, but never the real entity. Your father told me you went to India for training for a tech company, then were to be set up in London. I don't know if I searched for you for no reason, but then again, my searches have always been fruitless. I went to Seoul to take up a lucrative job offer at one of LG's sister companies, Hiplaza, Inc.
In late 1999, I had already been established in Korea. I worked for Hiplaza, then 3 years later, LG. For the first time, I was free of the feeling of having to look for you. I was in a place I knew you weren't It was like a dream. A world without you. The dream ended 3 months ago when I left LG. Now the curse of your existence has returned. An nyonghi jumuship siyo.
I'm now back in San Mateo. I haven't been here in the bay area since 1996. All my high school friends are either married, dead, or gone without a trace. I have nobody here but my dysfunctional family. Your brother said last month that you're still in London and will return to the bay area permanently this summer. I chased you around the world for 12 years, learned 3 languages, made quite an amount of money, just to meet you in the town where it all began. Fashion Island isn't even there anymore, but the ice skating rink is still there.
I'm not German, I'm not Japanese, and I am not Korean, but I can say anything in those languages, but I can't say anything to bring you back. You made the biggest changes in my life without barely stepping foot into it. I don't know if I should thank you or hate you, but one thing I'm sure of, I miss you dearly. Your cousin told me what your brother couldn't bring himself to tell me. 3 hours ago I received an email saying the reason why you're coming back is because you want to have your wedding in San Francisco, and that it was your fiancé’s idea.
Fuck you."
--Taken from Craigslist
12.08.2005
Pen pal? No...a pen foe
Remember having a pen pal in school? In grade school I exchanged letters to a Mexican pen pal in English, and in SD I had a Japanese pen pal whom I tried to write to in Japanese.
God, my letters were horrible. For any of you that knew me in school, Japanese was by far the most difficult class I ever took. If I hadn't taken it pass/no-pass I would probably still be there, trying to complete the stupid Revelle language requirement until the end of time. Anyways, if you thought speaking and listening to a Japanese was confusing, wait until you have to write it. Honestly, I beleive that the ONLY way to truly master the Japanese language is to be born and raised in a Japanese household, to a Japanese family, in Japan.
My first letter to my pal was the literary equivalent of Duplo - I pretty much only was able to tell him my name, where I lived, boy/girl, hobbies...the usual pen pal stuff. I can't imagine the laughs my pal got from receiving a poorly written letter from a then 20-yr old guy who likes videogames, pizza, and movies.
His reponse to me looked like an advanced Japanese textbook, in which it took me 5 hours to decipher that it was snowing quietly outside his bedroom and that his orange cat was rubbing the soles of his feet with his soft kitten pads while he was writing the letter. What a poet! I wasted 5 hours of my afternoon for you to tell me this? Couldn't you just tell me if you liked pizza?
Those were the only letters that crossed; I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to waste anymore time dumbing down his letters for me and I simply didn't have the brain power to read and respond accordingly. Besides, I completely exhausted my list of favorite foods, movies, and colors to him.
But thinking of pen pals reminded me how much I thought it was cool to talk to another kid somewhere else. I want another pen pal, but for it to be different. I want to verbally spar and abuse through these letters...I want...a pen foe. Of course it would be in English, but someone to match wits with and piss em' off. I don't need anymore pals, I want more enemies. A good enemy would be fun to write to. Will you be my pen foe?
God, my letters were horrible. For any of you that knew me in school, Japanese was by far the most difficult class I ever took. If I hadn't taken it pass/no-pass I would probably still be there, trying to complete the stupid Revelle language requirement until the end of time. Anyways, if you thought speaking and listening to a Japanese was confusing, wait until you have to write it. Honestly, I beleive that the ONLY way to truly master the Japanese language is to be born and raised in a Japanese household, to a Japanese family, in Japan.
My first letter to my pal was the literary equivalent of Duplo - I pretty much only was able to tell him my name, where I lived, boy/girl, hobbies...the usual pen pal stuff. I can't imagine the laughs my pal got from receiving a poorly written letter from a then 20-yr old guy who likes videogames, pizza, and movies.
His reponse to me looked like an advanced Japanese textbook, in which it took me 5 hours to decipher that it was snowing quietly outside his bedroom and that his orange cat was rubbing the soles of his feet with his soft kitten pads while he was writing the letter. What a poet! I wasted 5 hours of my afternoon for you to tell me this? Couldn't you just tell me if you liked pizza?
Those were the only letters that crossed; I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to waste anymore time dumbing down his letters for me and I simply didn't have the brain power to read and respond accordingly. Besides, I completely exhausted my list of favorite foods, movies, and colors to him.
But thinking of pen pals reminded me how much I thought it was cool to talk to another kid somewhere else. I want another pen pal, but for it to be different. I want to verbally spar and abuse through these letters...I want...a pen foe. Of course it would be in English, but someone to match wits with and piss em' off. I don't need anymore pals, I want more enemies. A good enemy would be fun to write to. Will you be my pen foe?
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