relationshipping

Happy September, year 3

year 3
The winds have changed in Tokyo, seemingly overnight.
The skies that were muffled in grey and dropping rain show fall’s turn and reveal a remarkably clear blue sky; the inescapable light reiterates that I live on an island.

America is about back-to-school excitement amidst a Labor Day weekend as Japan doggedly goes back to its school/work routine now that summer vacations are undeniably over.

I sit and contemplate what to write.

It’s quiet.
Insanely quiet for a city that is the most populous in the world.  The sliding doors are open to let in crisp, post-rain air and I have yet to hear a car honk but I can hear their tires on the pavement.

It’s been 2 years in this city, on this island.
I told myself I would wait 2 years before I cast judgment on Tokyo because:
Year 1 would be new and full of adjustments: culture shock, exploration, figuring out everything (turns out I would focus more on figuring out my relationship as S transitions).
Year 2 would allow for a sinking in of the former (or The Breakup Year).

Year 3… seems to have a full-circle theme.
I consider a recent Saturday: S and I go out to a trans party-event, we meet up with our respective good friends and the person I’m seeing is welcomed by S.  This last bit is huge, as friendliness between them has been a HELL. OF. A challenge, with 100% animosity coming from S for quite a while.  Regardless of the why, the turnaround is a notable event.  The last time S and I were out together it was disastrous so this night is significant progress.

We move on.

The arc of a new story has broken, as evidenced by impending events:
S’s BF will visit from the states, during which time I will check in to a separate apartment and check out a new Tokyo hood.
New significant people, new locations and potential moves begin to beckon.

Current mood: curious and anxious for future tidings.

 

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trans talk

She gets jealous

jealous post

and it’s really fucking cute.

But also, the fuck?!
This is unexpected.  When she was my boyfriend, he didn’t have an iota of jealousy in him.  I tested his J-meter: nada.

So what gives?
Becoming female.  With boyfriend.

He’s a really good guy, one who doesn’t shy from expressing feelings of love and hurt.  He freely compliments her physical and mental everything as he feels it, which is pretty damn often…so sweet, new love.  Insecurity doesn’t exist, yet as soon as she hears another female in the background, a knee-jerk response articulates: Who’s that?  She surprises herself with this iteration— a serious first— but in that moment her heart can’t help but feel a possessive tug and a quick flash-beat of disquiet.

As she tells me this, I can’t help but quietly wow at the psychological change I’m witnessing; for a split second my emotional whirlpool produces a thin line of sadness, reminiscing that I never did trigger this kind of possessive want from him.  But that was a different time, a different relationship, a different person.  I snap out of my flashback moment and smile; the woman before me is a changed individual, indeed.

Which leads me to another funny-cute moment of late.

S is really popular with the boys, especially Americans from the West Coast.
“So he’d fly me out to visit him.”
“Wow, S…he’s really into you.”
“Yeah…but I’m not so into him.”
“Oh?”
“Umm…squirmy gaze avoidance…”

I wait.
This is going to be good as she’s rarely shy around me.

“He’s trans.”

Oh.  Interesting.

“Except he doesn’t even fully realize it yet but he totally is.  I think that’s partly why he likes me so much.”

Head cocked, slow smile, raised eyebrow.

“Shut up, Rumi!”

I continue to look at her, put my hands up and shrug to show amused non-judgment.

“Look, I can’t be with a transsexual.  I have no interest.  Plus…he has the whole coming out and transition process ahead of him and…I just…can’t.  He needs so much support, I’d feel like I was his…mother.”

At this point I’m outright smirking as S tells me to shut it for the nth time.
We can’t help but bust out laughing as she’s heard those exact words come out of my mouth when we were going through a painful break up.

“I get it, Rumi.  I thought I did then but I really get it.”

I get that life is often full-circle but shit, I wasn’t expecting that one just yet.
Sure does give me a smile moment…significant changes.

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about Japan

Happy Japanniversary

My eyeballs need cocaine

Wow, it’s been a year already.
Craziness.

I often get asked how long I’m going to be here and my answer is always: I don’t know.

At the onset, I told myself that I would be in Tokyo at least two years for two reasons:
1) Lease agreements are usually for two years (though you can break them)
2) Year 1 would be simply surviving and experiencing everything anew and year 2 would  enable me to form a more true and objective opinion about living here- do I really like it or not.

Survival year 1 wasn’t too shabby; definitely a whirlwind and I’m really glad I had trips to Thailand and the States to break up moments of culture shock.

Some highlights:

apartment hunting and procurement in <36 hours, wading in Tokyo indie film production waters, love relationships morphing, friend relationships proving distance can bring us closer (because they ROCK), torrential downpours, best noodles ever. ever. ever., cuteness, street drinking, garbage water (more on this later), fucking Engrish, countless hours on planes (aisle seat only from here on out), A/C love, summer flu hate, cedar incense, public transport dependency, pedestrian hate, blinding island sun, meat smoke, ridiculously overpriced taxis, beer (so much beer consumed), strangers making me smile, sweat, snow, fear, joy, change, panic, loss, and love.
Always love.

Thanks for reading, y’all.
Cheers to year 2!

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random love

Happy freedom day, America

gay freedom

from Tokyo.

Funnily and unexpectedly enough, this holiday has struck a deep chord within me.  Perhaps it took moving to a foreign country, one in which I’m a citizen, to make me think damn hard and comparatively about American things like:

change, weed, immigration, conflict, acceptance, hate, cops, motherfucking Hollywood, documentaries, fast food, abuse, Vegas, the fucking judicial system, abortion, beer, AA, puppies, capitalism, goddamn public transportation,
Planned Parenthood, traffic, swimming pools, guns, NYC, libraries,
the homeless, privilege,  infomercials, love, Prince, reality TV, the death penalty,
fucking musicals, Apple, vegans, fly fishing,  NAACP, the public, goddamn Texas, telemarketing, Sesame Street, equality, drag queens, fucking healthcare.

I could go on.  And on.

But really, it’s just this:
Love you, America.

Oh fuck, have I just become patriotic?
I’m aight with that.

Love y’all, Happy 4th, Peace.

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relationshipping, trans talk

My new normal

My new normal

isn’t so abnormal, is it?

My life isn’t contained in this crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe whirlwind filled with exploding closets, overcrowded vanities and non-stop tucking.  Really, my life is fairly mundane.  Everyday I am just being me, staying busy, surviving and hopefully thriving.

Even to my chosen family (amazing, beautiful fucking weirdos) my situation is a tad incomprehensible.  But I get to thinking and the root issue with my transsexual GF is simply a matter of dealing with constant (sometimes massive) change and the overriding question on a steady loop in my head is, how much change can I really handle?  Sure, most people aren’t in my exact situation but don’t we all face this question in life?

think I’m super adaptable and I like the idea of change but in my current relationship, my capacity to adjust and evolve is constantly and scrupulously examined.  My self-proclaimed open-mindedness and willingness to explore new and uncomfortable spheres haven’t been tested like this before.  

And it is daunting.  

Beneath my wanderlust and seemingly fluid sexuality, I don’t like experiencing too many changes at once.  And currently, many looming changes require perpetual shifting, transitioning and adapting, which means I’m experiencing consistent discomfort and insecurity.  My logical brain is over this taxing process, but my slightly sadistic side appreciates a mental earthquake and an emotional jolt.

Despite the confusion I face when thinking about the future with my GF (namely, is there one?), I really try to stay in the moment and not overthink what lies ahead.  This is difficult for me but it’s the only way our relationship has a chance of working out because who the hell knows how emotions and attractions will change; there is just no telling.  Staying supremely in the here and now is a huge challenge but the rigorous honesty it demands certainly keeps me from becoming complacent and that’s an excellent thing.

So moving to and living in Tokyo with a transsexual in transition means: people change, ideologies metamorphize, assumptions disappear and serious growth occurs…okay, wait, I totally lied; I do live in a  crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe and I feel really fucking lucky for it.

P.S. Thank god for stupid fucking DOMA getting its ass kicked, right?

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