Fuck It

fuck it

Yea it’s 7:44 in the am and I am marginally drunk. Marginally drunk, and more so depressed. Why? Probably from persistent alcohol abuse. Probably from the strange hours I live by. Maybe because I leave Japan soon and it’s hard to know what exactly I’ve been doing with my time here, what I’ve achieved.

Sure I learnt some Japanese, and I’m sure if anyone saw me standing outside my club conversing all evening they’d be impressed. But I’m not sure I even like Japan. I’m not sure if I ever care to return again and use my Japanese so what does it matter. This country is full of retards. It’s a dying country, it’s trying to adopt cultural modernisation but has no good foundations to do it from and so is becoming kind of fucked up in the process; best reflected by the thousands of Japanese English words that are in everyday usage; ‘bossu no gurassu’ being ‘the boss’s glass’ and the first example sentence I could think off the top of my head. Though perhaps it was interesting to see this place, this last pocket of true difference before it’s eventual and surely much needed catch up with the rest of the world. Perhaps my time here will make for some interesting story telling one day… but heck I got a bunch of stories already now, and I’m not in this just for having some stuff to tell people when I go home (although that is satisfying).

It’s funny to re-read the intro here, in particular ‘what I’ve achieved’. It makes me think when did ‘achieve’ suddenly become so important. I’ve been here three months, what was I expecting to achieve? I spent three months just lying on a sofa once watching the wire and playing FIFA. I never once questioned the validity of that time. I spend 3 months now doing undoubtedly much more interesting things, but now seem to be in a state of questioning about it all. I can’t help but wonder where this sudden urge for valuable time comes from. Is it because when you set a goal to go travelling you sudden have a bunch of expectations? Where as comparatively when you set a goal to finish all the wire and win the champions league you know more so what you are in for (and achieve it, yeh I won that shit). But the truth is that I can’t help but feel the true answer has nothing to do with the setting… and instead comes from a more sinister, or at least more unchangeable place. It’s perhaps not so much about what I’m doing or what my plans are, but where I am now in terms of my age.

Mid-twenties. For me it’s been that time where I’m slowly understanding that I will be getting older now. Perhaps that’s why time seems more valuable all of a sudden. Perhaps it seems like I’ve got things to make up for now, things to pack in while I can. Perhaps everything I don’t pack in feels like some kind of failure. I think when you are a kid, you realise you will one day finish school and go to University, but at the same time can’t ever imagine actually being there. I think the day you start University, you know it will end in three years, but don’t quite think that time will actually come, or at least so soon. I think now I realise how short three years can be. The age range of people I’ve hung out with since I left England is so drastically different to that which it was at home and I’m spending my time with friends from the whole spectrum. I see the 16 year olds I teach and live with and see myself 8 years ago, I see the 42 year olds who have been travelling like me and see myself in 18 years time. I think about how this year started 3 months ago, how this blog started a year ago, how I cycled back from Auschwitz the year before that, how this time really flashed by. I realise how it will all flash by.

I sit here now drunk in the kitchen of a shitty bar. I then think about some happy memories, though have a tendency to tarnish them by saying ‘ah but if only this had happened as well’ or something. It’s a shame how we can take even the most beautiful memories and within 5 seconds of feeling happy from them find some way to torture ourselves from that exact same good thing.

I don’t have some kind of answer to anything here now, and I’m not sure if I’m even looking for one at present. Hell I don’t even know if I’m complaining. I just know that when you sit back in your chair, take a relaxing breath, and say ‘fuck it’… well, everything just suddenly feels much better.

That’s what I did before I started writing this. It has a lot of power and so I started writing about it. And that’s what I’ll do again now.

Just Fuck it.



I’m going to go home and watch Dredd 3D now.

About Sam

Hi I'm Sam and I write here exclusively at Samuel's Travels. Exclusively as by and large no-one wants me writing anywhere else. Please enjoy yourself while reading.
This entry was posted in Ramblings, Shit I got up to working in sex districts in Japan. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Fuck It

  1. Jillian says:

    I love the rawness of this post and I enjoy all your blog. You are an excellent writer with a level of honesty that is hard to find. Thank you for sharing the good, the bad, and the in-between. I hope you never stop writing. I look forward to your future adventures (or even lack of)!

  2. Pingback: I Enjoyed Japan | Samuel's Travels

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