I’ve been sitting on this post for the last four or five weeks now.  Every once in a while, I had the chance to sit down and write about life and work in Japan.  I would start typing but the words wouldn’t come out.  I kept thinking: What time is it?  Where am I?  What am I doing here?  When will this end?  Who am I?  Why am I?  Obviously, the string of questions only a maniacal person on the fringe of despair would ask.  As a result, I never published anything.  In fact, I never got past the second sentence which went something like this: I’m pretty mentally drained, so bear with me as this post is completely incoherent….

Well, I’m back to “normal” life now.  However, I’m still waking up at 3am asking myself the same damn questions: What time is it? Where am I?  What the hell happened?  Whosits and the whatsits?  The usual half-consciously formed words that linger in the fogged up brain of a jet lagged soul.  Will the workmares never end?  Perhaps not.  Will this post prove to be more coherent?  Most definitely not.

I never know what to say when people ask me how the trip was and what I did and what’s new, etc.  How do you sum up ten weeks or even four in a few short, yet captivating, sentences?  How can you really describe to someone everything that you’ve done, everything that you’ve seen?  How do you describe a routine that isn’t a regular routine?  Pictures are good, but how do you pick the select few pictures that tell the story the way you remember it?  And how do those words and pictures even begin to describe the smells and sounds of the environment (which are huge in my book).  I struggle with this a lot when I come back from long trips.

But if we want to get down to the most basic of basics, I’ll tell you this much:  I could not wait to get back home to “regular” life, where I believed it to be warm and cozy and full of yarn.  The irony of it all is that it was snowing in Seattle the day I got back and I haven’t done a lick of knitting since, either.

It seemed like this last month just flew by.  But every once in a while, I’ll remember something specific about the trip and it’s always a fond memory.  Unfortunately, at the time I didn’t see it that way.  But I’m not going to be too hard on myself for that; it’s amazing how much easier it is to see when the beating stops.

Ramblings on life over, back to knitting tomorrow!  I’ve got some things to show you…