Thoughts on hashi...

Sitting in the basement breakroom, for some reason my thoughts turned to chopsticks. When I first came here, I was worried that I would starve to death because I wasn't very good at using them... I remember trying to practice by going to Japanese restaurants in the months before my departure. There was one restaurant in particular that I would frequent, although looking back I can't remember why. The food wasn't very good, and the service was horrid, but I kept going just the same. They had a fried tofu dish that I would eat, but it was fried American tofu and so it left that nasty tofu aftertaste.

So just now, in the basement, surrounded by Japanese people talking on their cell phones and smoking, I think back to that shitty Japanese restaurant and remember how worried I was about coming here. Worried? Maybe terrified. But in that excited, Am-I-Fucking-Up-the-Rest-of-My-Life? sort of way...

And who would've thought that I'd still be here, after everything that's happened?