I got tired of being negative about Japan. After my boyfriend told me I was the best hater of Japan ("la meilleure détesteuse de Japon") he knew, and after a recovery advocate I feel so much admiration for, Voice in Recovery, declared March the Embrace Joy Month, I felt compelled – propelled by my helixes inside – to be part of it too.
After all, have I not always been the girl you hated because she was so optimistic? "Oh, it’s fine; I missed my plane because of this strike, but that will just give me more time to read these crappy magazines I usually don’t have time for." Have I not always been hated because everything seemed to work so well for me? Lucky, or talented, or blessed, or good at controlling things; whatever you may call it, you’re right. It’s hard to find something to complain about when things flow so smoothly…
…Would you say. But I won’t.
‘Cause whatever the circumstances, it might be easy to give in to criticism… Much more easy than to feel gratitude for the positive aspects – even though we’re almost drown in the positive, like I feel I’ve always been.
Got it? The slightest problem feels overwhelming… when compared to the usual situation, i.e. no problem whatsoever.
And follow me in this roller coaster ride of mine! Euphoria! Down. Euphoria! Down. In the air! On the ground. Spread on the ground, should I say. Stomped on. Not "grounded"; this I can’t fully feel yet, ’cause that’s too "middle", "balanced" an emotion.
And Japan… I hate it AND I love it. Lately, I have been hating it for having put me down. (But is it really Japan’s fault? Or mine, for not listening to my aspirations? Or is there a fault in the first place? After all I did end up listening to my heart, so where’s the problem?)
The problem is that EVERYTHING did not go well. It was not an escalation of pure moments of glory, always more and more glorious. So I felt it as a failure.
Did I say "glory" instead of "joy"? I’m sorry, it’s a typo.
When I don’t get my daily intake of glory, euphoria and the all-transcending happiness, I feel like something’s missing… so I feel down. After all, "febrility is a state of art" (quoting myself here, upcoming book of poetry), and if we’re not doing art, then we’re doing nothing worth…
Hum. Could I just be content? Satisfied? Grateful? And… joyful? Yes. Sometimes I get tired of playing extremes in my internal drama, and I find the balance (really? yes.) to look at the now. Then I can’t really feel dissatisfied. Not bad, my life, hey?
It’s just that drama is a state of art, too. Too bad inspiration comes best when I am in a melancholic mood. Sweet, blue melancholy… Sweet, creative hate… Sweet, cold irony…
I commit to writing about positive things as well. To share positivity in order to have more of it. More of these blessed moments of free dancing. Of this unending learning. Of this air biting my lungs. Of these Aimee-times steeped in inspiring words and tea.
Why would I still be such a hater of Japan? Am I not in Japan anymore?
Ô Joy! Ô sweet, sweet Irony…