Two Weeks

Dear Japan,
It's almost been two weeks now, and you still have not gotten the nuclear reaction sorted out. Please fix this pronto, as I do not appreciate radiation in my water, spinach, milk, or innards. Also, I have yet to receive my Yakkan Shoumei, and that's rather critical for me to make this journey. Please remedy this as soon as possible, seeing as I have two weeks until I am suppose to depart and there really is no plan B if it does not arrive.
Best Regards,
Molly

Sometimes, it feels like this entire trip is doomed. And that crushes my heart in ways I didn't image possible.

Further Worries

Dear Media,
I get it. Really. You need stories to report, and its the scary ones that get the most views. This isn't the first time you've blown a story way out of proportion, so I shouldn't be surprised. But you are freaking out the entire world. And its not nice.
So cut it out.
Sincerely,
Me

This is, quite possibly, the first time in my life I've watched so much news willingly. My mother is a Foxnews junkies, so every day is an epic battle over who will wield the remote control. But not this week. I've sat glued to the television, flipping between news channels while double checking news websites during commercials.

And its pathetic.

I don't know who or what to believe anymore. Experts are arguing with experts over the possible outcomes of the nuclear plant's fate. The government is evacuating American citizens. Panic seems rampant.

I use to get excited to tell people that I was moving to Japan in less than a month. Now I dread the question, "So what are your plans for the future?" Because I know as soon as I tell them, I get the most sympathetic look. Moments later when they realize I still intend to go, that look becomes accusatory along the lines of locking me away in an asylum.

My future has never been so up in the air before. And, despite my previous entry about not worrying, I haven't been this stressed in years. But the truth of the matter is, what do I really have to complain about? Yes, its frustrating. Yes, I usually wind up crying most days.

But I have my home. I have my family. I have food and shelter. I really don't deserve to complain.

Worrying

Dear Me,
Worrying gets you nothing. The Bible has a good point when it asks, "Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" Maybe you should contemplate that instead of freaking out.
Much love,
Me
P.S. Don't you find it a bit odd to be writing notes to yourself?


Sometimes I wish I had a TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space, for those of you not in the know) to ride around in. And I don't say that because it would mean I was one of the Doctor's companions, although that would certainly be an added bonus. What I mean is I want a time machine to jump me a few weeks into the future so I can bypass this daunting worrying waiting time.

With the disaster in Japan still plunging the country into chaos, I don't know what my future holds. All the plans I had, the goal I was striving for, is suddenly lost in a mist of worry and confusion. Japan is facing the crisis of a lifetime; I'm pretty sure getting another American over there to teach English really isn't a high priority.

And as much as I desperately want to fulfill this dream, I find myself wary of entering a country that could soon be awash with radioactive winds. My thyroid is already crapped out, so radioactivity and I wouldn't make good friends. Besides, I'm crazy enough without a third arm suddenly sprouting from my chest. Laser vision would be cool though.

All joking aside, this is a scary time. And I don't mean for my own insignificant future but for the path that is laid before Japan. This disaster is not over. Even when the media finds reporting on Japan to be mundane and switches back to the ever so important updates on Charlie Sheen, the effects of the earthquake will still be prominent in Nippon. The country has been changed.

Yet despite all my worrying, whining, and whimpering, nothing has been improved or altered. There is nothing I can do for Japan right now as much as my heart may break for her. I can only sit here thousands of miles away and watch her pain from a screen. And I can pray, intercede on her behalf that God's glory somehow shine through this mess.

But worry? No, the only thing that will accomplish is giving me premature gray hairs, which would lead to worrying about plucking them out, which would then lead to worrying about creating a bald spot, which would lead to...you get the idea. It's a vicious cycle. 

Earthquake

Dear Japan,
I'm heartbroken by the loss and devastation you are currently experiencing. You are the core of my prayers today and for the days to come. May God bring you comfort and strength during this disaster, and may you seek His face and glory amidst this emergency. 
With love,
Me

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2011/03/11/massive-7-magnitude-earthquake-strikes-japan/

Yakkan Shoumei

Dear Pharmecutical Inspector,
I really do need to bring all those meds into Japan with me. I can certainly empathize as to why you are so strict on your customs regulations, especially when it comes to medicinal purposes. But the truth of that matter is, you care causing me a great amount of undue stress and have me literally pining to hold the Yakkan Shoumei in my trembling hands. So the sooner you can get it to me, the bigger the hug I will give you.
Best regards,
Me

Ah, the Yakkan Shoumei, the current bane of my existence. I have spent countless hours lost in the throws of worry and stress due to this painfully critical document that I absolutely must obtain. A quest of the highest priority. And not one of those side quests that don't really contribute to the overall story. No, this quest is the kind that if not defeated, means I might not make it to Japan.

So what exactly is this document I'm rattling on about? Allow me to rattle on some more.

I received an email from my Japanese employee recruiters informing me that if I planned on bringing any medication into the country, I first had to apply for permission. Being a Type I diabetic, I fully intend on bringing meds into Japan. Lots of them. Thus I learned about the Yakkan Shoumei, basically a permission slip that I show to the customs officer to prove that my luggage chocked full of insulin and needles is legit and I'm not some diabetic drug dealer.

It makes sense that I would require an official document to bring a year's supply of insulin necessities. In the past I've carried a letter around with me whenever I traveled, a little thing signed by my doctor declaring that the box strapped to my pocket is an actual medical device and not some jacked-up pager. But that letter wouldn't cut it this time, not for the sheer volume of medicine I would have to bring.

However, the application for the Yakkan Shoumei is the most involved bit of paperwork I've ever had the pleasure of cursing filling out. In fact, it required a two hour appointment at my doctor's office as several nurses stared in bafflement at the forms before them. We managed to create quite the novella of detailed information by the time we were done and our pens dried up.

I thought the hardest part was over. How could it not be? I had memorized half of the the Physician's Desk Reference guide (an impressive feat, considering the volume consists of 3500 pages of drug descriptions and sells for $52.45 on Amazon). No, the adventure was not over. There was still another hurdle looming in my path.

The Postal Service.

But we'll leave that story for another day.

Insurance Insanity

Dear Insurance Company,
Please stop being douche bags. I need insulin to survive, so do your job and provide it. Thanks.
Sincerely,
Me

As it turns out, being diabetic makes it nearly impossible to go abroad for a year. And that really sucks.

Jappan Vs Nippon

Dear Japan,
I'm beginning to suspect that you are actually a part of the Witness Protection Program. Not to worry, your secret is safe with me. And anyone who reads this blog. 
Sincerely, 
Me


Over the past few months of studying the country I'll soon be calling home, I learned that "Japan" is not even remotely close to the country's true name. If you want to be fancy about it, the name Japan is an exonym. And yes, I did look that up on Wikipedia. No, I'm not sure how to pronounce it.

The Japanese call their country Nihon (Knee-hon) or Nippon, the fancier version. Before you ask, that does not make the people Nihonese.  They call themselves Nihonjin and speak Nihongo.

If you want to be really detailed, Nihon is typically translated as "Land of the Rising Sun." The kanji are 日本  and those more or less mean the "where the sun originates."  If you want to learn more about meaning of kanji, that'll be a lesson for another day...from someone who actually knows what they're talking about. Meaning, not me. 

So how did Nihon get switched for Japan? Somebody obviously messed up somewhere. Think of it like a giant game of Telephone spread over several countries and years. But long story short, the Portugese traders heard a Chinese dialect call the country "Giapan." And it went downhill from there.

So there's your Sparknotes version of the origins of Japan Nippon's true name. But now you're sworn to secrecy, just in case I was right about the whole Witness Protection thing.