A new Sunday and thoughts of "Home"

Today was an interesting day to be sure.
Church is like a big family. Especially when you used to belong to it as a child. Everyone you meet is like a distant cousin or an aunt you've only met a few times.
Today one of my "great uncles" couldn't get my husband's name right.
So now as a joke I'm going to call him Jeremy. Which is even funnier because Jeremy is actually my cousin's husband's name.
Hahahahahaha! I think it's funny anyways.

Another interesting thing about today is that it's Daylight Savings. Last night at midnight the clock magically reversed an hour in order to save daylight (don't ask my why, I've been told it's Benjamin Franklin's fault... something about saving candles. *shrugs*). So today has felt off for both me and my husband.
We just can't seem to get the time right. I'm sure it doesn't really help that we went from one timezone to another only a week before the time changed on us. lol

The final interesting thing about today is that I've been confronted with thoughts of home.
One of my best friends has a snowy background on her blog that reminds me of Germany. The picture fills me with feelings that I believe is normal for a person when thinking of home. My heart feels warm and my insides are at ease, there is a lightness to my breath and thoughts and a brightness to my face. To look at the picture makes me feel just plain good all over.
So I let my friend know about it.
In response she asked me to tell her about my home. At first I got all excited: "Yay! I get to share all of my happy!" and then I felt kind of panicked because I realized I don't just have one home. I did my best to give a short answer on her page, but I can't help but feel that isn't enough.
I've been thinking about it and I'd like to share my thoughts.

When I first came back the the United States of America I did not fit in. There was no one who thought the way I did, and even with my super powers of understanding that being a military brat has grown in me, I had a very hard time communicating how I felt and thought.
It was very frustrating to me when people would ask me where I was from. Because I had no easy answer. Did they want to know where I was going for the holiday break or did they want to know the last place I had lived? Not knowing what to say I'd rattle on about all the places I'd lived ending with where my family was from originally. The response was usually either nervous laughter or amazement that one person could actually exist in so many places in one lifetime.
The question of "where do you call home?" always made me upset. Home is not a plural word, it is singular. A person has one Home. Yeah sure, there are adds in the news paper for "Six homes under 250,000 dollars", but they're just using the word 'Home' out of context to hide the fact that they're trailer, mobile, or prefabricated houses.
With this line of thinking I became depressed because I felt that I would never be able to connect with the other students around me. Because I didn't have the one thing everyone else had: a Home. Later though, I came to the conclusion that everywhere I have felt happy and content is a place that I would call my 'home'. In reality I was very lucky and blessed by God to have more than one place that made me feel the way that others do when they think of their Home.

So I will tell you of my three homes. Originally there were only two, but as I was thinking I realized that I'd missed one very important place.

Home #1: My first Home, Colorado's Western Slope.
In the topmost west corner of Colorado is a town called Craig, it's a little south, down the mountain, from Steamboat Springs. Below Craig is another town called Grand Junction, it's in the valley at the base of the mountains to the south of Craig.
My father's family is from Grand Junction and my mother's family is from Craig. When I was a child I lived in Grand Junction and after we moved when I was 9 we visited every year for Christmas. It was home.
The sight of blue mountains with bald heads on the horizon that would light up red and gold as the sun set. Big thin Aspen trees, thick bodied cotton wood trees, ever greens, and weeping willows were the trees I climbed. Bees buzzing around in the orchard my grand parents had and in my grandmother's flower garden was a familiar sound. The grass was green and soft in the summer, brown and dead in the winter. Snow came at least once every winter and turned every hill into a slide. I love how it feels to have a warm body and a cold nose.

Home #2: Bitburg Germany.

When I was 14 we moved away from my home country. Being a homeschooled child I didn't have very many friends, but the friends I did have were very close to me. It was hard to move to a place where I could not understand everyone. What was more frustrating is when I could understand only half of what people were saying. We lived on the second floor of an old hotel called a Gasthaus. It was very hot in the summer because we had no air conditioning. Cows walked down the street to a pasture every day. My littlest brother was a baby, not even 2 years old yet. Being the oldest was hard because I was expected to learn everything to help everyone else. I went to highschool and learned German so that I could translate for my family. Once I could do that I started to feel more at ease.
I didn't understand everything, but I could understand enough that I could get to know people. We could come to an understanding using words I knew and they could teach me more words. I don't know when part of the German culture rubbed off on me, I think it may just come with learning another language, but it became my first New Home.
The food, warm and thick, filled with creme and spices. Like the people who were hearty, strong, polite, but never lied to you (well most of them didn't). Families lived together and helped each other. Cars were made to go fast and last a long time. Life there was tough for the Germans sometimes but they were tougher. Cathedrals of carved stone and colored glass were made to reflect the beauty that God had made and the possible beauty of heaven so that the worshipers could feel Awe. It was important to work together, to make concessions for others, to a point. You were never to lose yourself and you made your family name proud the best you could. There was also snow here. Unlike my first home though there were more open fields and trees I never learned the names of, but I loved over time. The sky wasn't blue in the winter it was white; whiter than the snow on the ground. The trees looked like black hands reaching up and lined with a sparkling layer of frost and snow. It was beautiful. Warm bread and cider and hot steamed Knodle filled with vanilla pudding and covered with strawberry sauce warmed your insides from the cold. Old stone roads that had been warn smooth by so many years were warm when the snow melted and almost soft to bare feet. I miss the stone, the carvings, and the laid back attitude that filled the spring air. I miss the butcher shops where one could pick out a goose that hung from the ceiling or a rabbit from the cooler. I miss Celery root and watercress and produce that came from the farm next door. Home made liqueur and the odd loving respect for the effects of alcohol. I miss the bike trails that wound through the farmland from dorf to dorf (village to village) and the smell of the bakeries as you passed. Gelato... oooh Gelato!
This is where I grew up, this is where I made myself into something even more unique than I already was, this is my home.

Home #3: Misawa Japan

I was already an adult in my mind when I moved to Japan. Though my heart was jumping for joy like a child's when we arrived. I chose my dream over college. Since I was 8 years old I had wanted to visit Japan. I loved the images that were printed in brilliant colors in the books I read about Japanese festivals and traditions. Though my postmodern upbringing made me disagree with some of the customs I still found them strangely beautiful.
The harmony of man to nature and machine was something new for me. I wasn't used to the idea of having a sacred tree or mountain alongside a frighteningly advanced kind of technology. My Japanese cell phone that I bought 3 years ago was more advanced than the phone I currently own, and the Japanese phone cost half as much. I fell in love with the pastries and the cheap food. The way the entire store would greet the ringing of the bell attached to the door. I'd never liked fruit very much but in Misawa it was cheap and so very delicious. I love the sight of Kanji, it's like art instead of words. I loved my Japanese coworkers, I knew I could count on them to do their job and let me know when I wasn't doing something right. Masako made me laugh when she would tease my dad after she got to know him.
I miss Sakura's, the soft pink snow that drifted from the trees in April and May. The knots of roots the poked through impossible black earth from ginko trees that had yellow leaves like fans. Racing my siblings up a stupid amount of temple steps. Pericura (photobooths) and video games inside the mall, dance dance revolution contests with my friends. Japanese McDonalds is SOOOO much tastier. I liked finding all the new and interesting things in the 100yen stores. Japanese music gave me a peaceful feeling or made me laugh.Art in Japan is so much softer and flows like water instead of standing like iron. Kimono's, fans, kokeshi dolls, t-shirts with bad English phrases on them, all of it was like being in a picture book for me. It was the place I'd always wanted to be... and the best part is that there was snow.
It was here that I came to an appreciation of my body I hadn't had before. Being free to go to an Onsen and soak with other women and see their unique shapes made me feel more like a woman. I could look in the mirror without thinking that I was ugly or flat chested or masculine armed. When I looked I saw a woman with a tall nose and long legs who's neck was still pretty even with her wide shoulders. I may not have been able to master Japanese like I had German, but the little bit I did opened my mind to a different way of thinking. A respect for the earth and it's creatures beyond what I'd known before. A belief and a surrender to a destiny larger than the self. The need to give back to the community even if it runs the person to their knees. The honor of the family and high expectations of the children. The sacredness of being Japanese and keeping out too much influence from other sources. So different from what I'd experienced before. This was the last home I've had.

Other thoughts:
Maybe it's just the snow that makes me feel at home. The chilly feeling in your nose and ears. Scratchy scarfs around the neck and gloves that don't quite keep the fingers warm. Warm drinks and blankets with people I can share my feelings with. Maybe it's the sight of my life's breath hanging in the air allowing me to see that: Yes I am alive and a part of this great big beautiful world that I believe was created by something larger grander and more powerful than anything else.
A God who saw fit to make me inside my mother and let me see, feel, taste, touch what and who he made. Because I have a feeling deep inside that he likes to see me smile.

Written Words

I'm going to try harder to update my blog.
Life has found a pattern for me. This is why I do not often write. I feel like I am only reiterating things already spoken. Wearing down thoughts till they are only a stub of the monumental discovery they used to be.
I move, I don't have a kitchen, I find a happy place, there is much disappointment. I study culture and language and learn more about myself.

Recently though, something did happen to me that was out of the cycle.

I was stupid and got scammed. Yes, some one took my money and I let them because I wasn't paying attention. However I have since then reversed the damage and kept any farther loss from happening.

This lesson that I have learned is both humbling and empowering.
I am humbled, knowing that my intelligence isn't as far reaching as I once thought. So now I can be kinder and not judge others I deem to have 'done something stupid'.
I am empowered, knowing that though I am sometimes unintelligent I have the ability to somewhat undo the damage of those poor choices. The bad things I do don't have the power to drag me down as long as I fight them.

Keeping this new experience in mind I'm going to try to fight my negative emotions. Often times I feel like the dark feelings are a big steam roller and I'm the road. On the contrary I am me, I can run, dodge, move out of the way, and maybe one day take total control of that big rolling mass that is my dark side. I feel confident, though it make take many years, that I can do this now.

In other news, I'm writing a Novel for NaNoWriMo (national, something, writer's, month) and I'm super excited! I love the chaotic idea my friends and husband helped me come up with.
*come closer*
*whispers* You see, I'm writing about Zombies and Dragons. *giggles* Figure that one out.
The plot is fairly simple and straight forward, I didn't want to get tangled up with too many loose ends seeing as how I'm writing my first draft in only 30 days. I have to admit I'm really loving the light stress of it. I fell behind a little yesterday and didn't get a chapter done like I'd planned. So, today, I'm going to catch up by writing the rest of the chapter I didn't finish and try for two more chapters.

If you want I can post little excerpts of the text here so you can get a feel for the book. Just keep in mind that this is a rough draft. I'm more worried about getting the ideas onto the page than it looking or sounding very smart.

I wish all my friends, and whatever random readers stumbles on to this, the best of luck in life, love, and learning.
*HUGS!*

New Again?

Today I sat down and caught up.
Caught up with people and places I'd love to be near.
Making plans and wondering about myself and those around me.

I'm in a new place. Kind of. I lived here once, when I was a different person, in a different time. I wonder if I have changed as much as I feel I have not.

I wonder why I keep to myself when all I really want is some kind of community inclusion. It's a learned behavior I hadn't realized I'd learned.
Odd, when I think about it. Because, my mother is the queen of keeping in touch. She keeps her circle always open and expanding.
I do not. So, I wonder why.

I don't talk much, and when I do I babble incecently.

I'm spending a lot of time alone and it gives me time to think. To think about America and the things I don't understand about it.
Politics and such. The drive to out do those around me in some way. The individual focus from person to person whilst trying to meld into a connected whole. America is as much a contradiction as I am; or so I feel at times.
How much time, as humans, we spend processing things to the inth degree. I don't know what the word 'inth' means... but I think it's a way of saying minute, tiny, closest possible... is 'inth' even a word? Spell check says 'nth' is a word... what the heck?!

While studying languages I have to use an English dictionary to decipher what they're trying to explain to me. It's funny that my own language is almost as foreign to me as the one I'm studying. After about an hour though I stop laughing and put away the books out of sheer frustration.

I'm glad I got caught up. It makes me feel more whole.

Paradox

I want to write, but I have nothing to say. Nothing important anyway.

I'm very frustrated with my life at the moment. Few people would understand, and those that do are far away from me.
I feel very alone.
Positivity is hard when one is feeling secluded.
Which is why I'm so confused when others I meet tell me that I'm so positive. I don't feel positive. When I look in the mirror I don't see a positive woman looking back at me (eeew are those bags under my eyes?! *laughs*). But somehow, without my understanding, I'm a positive person. So often I hear: "Wow, Rem, you're so positive." or "You can tell by your smile, only positive people smile like that." No, one will believe the truth that I tell them. The feelings that hang inside my chest are brushed aside because they see that I am "so positive" nothing negative could possibly be in me.

It's strange how other people can put labels onto you that you don't feel to be true and suddenly it becomes the truth to everyone but you. I'm sure this phenomenon has a name. I remember learning about something similar in Speech Class. But for the life of me I can't remember.

The Little Things (just a random Rem thought)

You know the things you really don't pay attention to? The little things. They can cause or fix BIG problems. Through out my life I've noticed this on a small scale, but being married has made this truth so much more tangible to me.
Little things will make me angry. Little things will make him quiet and upset. Little things will mess up something nice. Little things will make me laugh. Little things will make him blush and smile. Little things will turn a bad day into a good day.
And it's never the same little thing.

I guess that's what keeps life interesting.

So, I've been thinking about language a lot recently. Mostly because of the problems I'm having continuing my studies on my own.
And it makes me wonder how it came to be. It's just a sequence of sounds, a bunch of squiggly lines on a page, that we use to convey some of our most important ideas and treasured feelings. It's amazing how something so small can be something so essential.
Conversely, language can be a barrier. People can get so stuck on the words being said that they completely miss the feelings beneath them.
It boggles my mind that such a grand invention can work against us so thoroughly sometimes.

It's the little things that make up our world, our life, our hearts.

Past, Present, and Future Episode.2

Past:
Since I'm coming up on my One Year Marriage Anniversary I thought I'd put the video we took the day after our marriage. (I can't really say 'wedding' because we didn't have an actual wedding party)

Hindsight: part 1 of 3 from Angharad on Vimeo.

Present:
As of right now I'm struggling to find a good way to study Japanese on my own. A lot of my resources are with my parents in England. I think I'm going to go buy an 'instant immersion' language program and stick it on my computer. Or beg my mother to send me the 'transparalanguage' disks I left behind.
I'm also frustrated with my German. Most of the programs I have are too simple for me and I know everything. However, when I go to watch German TV online or read German books there are so many words and expressions that I am unfamiliar with that I only understand maybe 58-65% of what is going on. I really miss being a part of a class and having a 'master' to ask questions.

I've also found an interesting break in culture that I believe may be universal to an extent. There is a culture for the old and a culture for the young. They exist in an uneasy balance with each other and both hope to influence the other.
The culture of being older tends to revolve around respect and dignity. Though the details of what shows respect and dignity may be different from culture to culture I believe that the foundation is the same.
The culture of being young tends to revolve around freedom, desire, and being casual. They want to do what they want when they want and do away with things like 'sir' and 'ma'am' and have a casual kind of atmosphere between themselves and the older generation. Again the details of this are different from culture to culture, but I believe the foundation is the same.
I find the younger culture a little more difficult to understand personally because I was raised the oldest child of four with older grandparents. At a young age I was molded to regard respect and dignity higher than my own desires. However, I can still relate to the younger generation's focus on freedom. I want to be who I am: Forget dignity and Respect I'm going to go toilet paper that guy's trees!
It's interesting to see the tension between the older and younger generations and their culture and how, though the means have changed, it has remained the same for as long as I can look back.

Recently though in America, I've noticed that the line between the older and younger cultures is getting blurred. I find 40 year old men who act like their 18, or an older woman dressed like one half her age. It's kinda sad to me, to lose that distinction. Differences have, to me, always made the world a more interesting place.

Future:
I'm going to have a house some day! I'm so looking forward to it! I'm going to make a lot of the furniture myself out of interesting things I find.
Like this: Bookshelf! Screen! Table!

Charleston

The sky in Charleston is a pale blue, that fades to a white as it touches the horizon. I've never seen a sky so tired of shining, so accepting of the clouds that roll in from the sea. Grass grows in sandy soil that gets in between your toes, reminding you of how close you are to the end of the land. The city of Charleston is low and spread out like a spider's web, with traffic that makes it possilbe to read a book while driving home.
Sometimes I like it here. Other times I can't wait to get away. And still other times I wish never to come back.

Jesse and I went camping last weekend and have been in Charleston for a week now. It's been a good week I think. I miss him when he goes to work, I'm not used to it. (^_^)"

I'm sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I got caught up in my own issues so deep I forgot there was a surface for a moment. Our dog died, I had some problems with my woman parts that scared me, and I'm having a weird kind of identity crisis/war with myself.

America is a culture of struggle. Americans want to fight, they discover theirselves while overcomming. I think maybe this could be true for all of humanity. My husband said once that: "Great stories are only great because of the trails. No one wants to read about relaxing days on a beach for 300 pages. There must be an obstacle, a threat, a problem that seems impossible, an enemy to make it amazing; to make the character grow. People are like that too. We become our best when under oppression of some kind." So my struggle may not be merely a struggle of finding myself within a culture I can barely remember, or one I don't agree with, it may be the struggle of mankind. To find myself, to grow into something better than I am now, to fight and become mentally strong, emotionally strong, morally strong.
I like being 'the foreigner' though. You can get away with things that people of that culture can't and often times my blunders are seen as 'cute' rather than 'stupid'. *laughs*
Culture is the soil, we are the plants. Will you let the soil make you a weed or a tree? I think I will be a vine, and spread myself across many soils. (^_^)

I hope that didn't sound too weird.

Tomorrow I'll post another Past Present and Future blog. (I hope the computer lets me. *crosses fingers*)