Instrumentality

Paint samples, exposed drywall

Dog toys in and out of basket

The stuffing from a destroyed one mixed in

Boxes too cumbersome to break down

Counters too busy to clean

Dishwasher gave up too

Trying to chip away at it but it’s all so much

I fill it with all the things I want: 

Things I either can’t have, or don’t need. 

They try and push out the good:

The people I love, and the appreciation I have,

The joy I find, and what really matters. 

“Desire is suffering.”

Sure is.

Yet, I find it hard to imagine a pain

That I more willingly bring upon myself, 

Or one that I can endure in such intensity,

In such quantity that I find it hard to believe

I could still want more. 

But while the bad things take up space, 

The good have presence,

And invite more good to reside with them, 

Taking up no more space than before. 

My personal heaven and hell have the same square footage. 

They are the same room. 

I thought of both of you.

To imagine losing someone so close,

When I knew you both so little,

made his expression of anguish

feel so petty to my own. 

I offered my condolences and support

as if I had earned them by knowing you two.

I was not alone in my outreach,

Nor was I alone when I got word on separate occasions,

For her, there was no context.

For both of you, I knew quite a bit. 

For him, it must have felt like losing the world.

I wonder if that’s what past through your parents’ minds.

I felt the need to reach out again, even though I had earlier that day. 

Your faces passed through my mind in tandem.

I wanted to let him know that he wasn’t alone, though that was already clear,

In a way similar to what was presented to me.

I tried to think of the good I could achieve if he needed me, 

Feelings of selfishness coursed through me, repeating your names.

The distraction of work could only hold my mind in place momentarily, as I put myself in his shoes, quietly trying to picture a sorrow I could only hope would be a distant reality of my own.

Your eyes stared back, in contrast to my intended thoughts, piercing without edge.

I thought of my mother and father.

How do you come down

From a waking dream?

No defined difference

In between the peak

And normalcy.

No pulling off the sheets

To leave for reality.

No pulling up the sheets

To return to seek it again.

Drifting back to a land

Where everything is a moment’s grasp,

Where time will lapse

In a second’s pass,

And suddenly you’re awake.

And every moment you wait,

That ephemera fades.

But when you can replace

An image imitating real

With something you can

Actually touch,

And feel.

I never thought I would end up in the position I am in now, 

A position that I am often these past months.

Eyes reluctantly gravitating to see the time, 

To see how many hours until I have to call it a night.

There’s no set time, but often it’s better to head in early, 

pull over the sheets, and try to forget for a moment. 

It’s never as easy at night, not like in the morning,

when the daylight is comforting,

in the regard that it infers much more time between then and tomorrow,

than now and tomorrow. 

The idea of “tomorrow” once conjured an image of work. 

Work, yes, but work that, on occasion, was gratifying, 

fulfilling even, in a way that made it all worth the effort.

These days, the idea of “tomorrow” brings uncertainty,

with less prospect of fulfillment. 

that I’ve struggled to use.

Said a thousands words,

put not to a tune,

but to banter. 

Misuse of an instrument,

depending on how you see it.

I once took pride in my words,

but now tend regret not using them.

And as insecurities pile up,

the joy is lost in thinking,

This is a little late, as I meant to post it on the last day of 2015, but this will have to do. I’m still busy recording with my bandmates up in Camas, WA right now for our debut album, but I have some time to write this up. If you haven’t already, please take a moment to check out our music: thedistantfourth.bandcamp.com 

This will read chronologically, starting from January 1st, 2015, featuring only what I found significant enough remember, and piece together with the help of social media and personal writing.

January 1st would put me in Kaua’i, Hawaii. I had just returned from 5 months in Japan, studying abroad at Kansai Gaidai University. It was an eye-opener for sure, and did just as much to dispel my initial fascination with Japan, as it did foster a new love, appreciation, and personal connection with the country. That being said, I was desperately missing my family. The stress of being immersed in a second culture had taken its toll on my mind and body. Kaua’i was the much needed escape from both my study abroad experience, and academia. I was able to share some great experiences with my family, like abseiling a 60-meter tall waterfall, and go on a massive hike through the Northern coast of Kaua’i.

Shortly after getting back to New Jersey, I had the opportunity to go over to a Mercedes dealership with my Dad to look at some cars. He had nothing in mind, but it seemed like a fun thing to do, and wanted to use the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend who worked at the dealership. That old friend happened to be the dealership treasurer, and took kindly to both mine and my friend’s (who tagged along) knowledge of cars. We were given the opportunity to see a private collection of cars near-by that featured both contemporary exotics such as the Mercedes-McLaren SLR, but some fantastic classics such as the Porsche 356 1600 Speedster, and the Mecedes 300 SL, clad with “gentlemen’s” rally gear. This fostered a new fascination and appreciation for the older generation of cars that were far beyond my knowledge at the time.

During one of my weekends home, I reached a cathartic point in my relationship with my younger brother. After he returned home with his friends, in a slightly altered state-of-mind that night, we somehow ended up in an intense argument that resulted in him both knocking a hole in our bathroom wall, but letting out some pent-up emotions that were stirring inside of his mind for years. Many tears followed, but it was an important step in us becoming closer. Past that point, I became extremely conscious of our interaction. I swore to be the best brother I could be.

Being back at Villanova University for the second semester of my Junior year was bitter-sweet. My classes were enjoyable and filled with both pleasant and motivated students, but I couldn’t help but find myself becoming increasingly disinterested and dissatisfied with my curriculum. Real world pressure was starting to surface, specifically in the form of my three chemical-engineer roommates plugging away at summer job applications almost every day (and making it well known to everyone else). I was fortunately reunited with my guitar for the first time in 6 months, and spent a good amount of time getting back into the habit of playing and composing. I never realized how much I needed a creative outlet. I felt myself when sitting with my instrument and just strumming away.

I had a surreal moment in one of my classes, early in the semester. We watched a clip from the movie Babel in my intro to film production course. During one of the scenes taking place in Japan, a group of high school students go to a nightclub in Shibuya. The interior of this scene was immediately familiar to me. After class, I was quick to get back to my room and look up the shot locations used in the film. Sure enough, the club used in the movie was “Womb,” the same club I went to on Halloween the prior year in Japan. I had an intense moment of reflection, picturing myself back in the same building, immersed in wave of noise, heat, and light on the dance floor. It conjured fond memories from the entire night, from the arrival in Tokyo, to the three-hour wait for the trains to run again in the morning.

There were two notable events in March. One, I traveled up to Boston to visit my friend John Motley at Boston University. I can’t remember exactly why I traveled up there in the first place, but I do know I did get the opportunity to visit a girl I had strong feelings for at the time. Our time together was but a short cafe visit and a stroll through the MIT campus, but it was familiar and memorable time. The second event would be the Garden State Euros spring opener. This would be first time I would be taking my S4 Avant to a show since leaving for Japan. Even more significant was taking the trip with the company of my younger brother. I saw the Euro community as a great way to foster a better connection between the two of us, given our troubled and heated past. Despite the extremely cold weather that bit at my unprepared fingertips the entirety of the event, my brother and I had a great time walking the aisles of cars and taking photos. I’d like to think it was truly the first step in igniting his interest in cars, other than me blabbing on to him about automotive jargon all the time.

Speaking of cars, in April, I went to the New York International Auto Show with my Dad. We had gone together last year and had a blast. His people skills gave us the opportunity to get behind the seats of a lot of cars that were typically off-limits for show goers. We wouldn’t have quite the same luck again this year, but it was still a fantastic time in my opinion. If I may be honest, I haven’t seen much of my Dad my entire life because of his difficult work schedule, and our time together is rarely spent for the pure intention of just hanging out. So, events like these are particularly meaningful to me, and I really cherish them.

April was a milestone in my musical career, marking the release of the first piece of music I had a part of, in almost three years. My band, The Distant Fourth, released a single titled The Chase. It was met with great support by family, friends, and fans, but most importantly, the satisfaction of the band as a whole. This was the first step in retaining our activity as a musical outfit, as well as reigniting the passion for playing together that we fostered in the past. I had not felt such a sense of accomplishment in a long time, nor such a sense of camaraderie with my band mates.

May was a milestone in my automotive career, and my automotive passion. I had been accepted to a 10-week internship program at Porsche Cars North America, in Atlanta, Georgia. I was ecstatic, being a massive fan of the cars and the brand. This would also be the first time I would be working outside of the medical industry in three years, having spent my prior summer employment at an outpatient surgery center. In almost magical harmony, the 9th annual Southern Worthersee event, in Helen, GA, would take place one weekend prior to my start date. Now I had two reasons to travel down to Georgia. With the end of the semester came a short visit home, and then a long 15-hour drive down the East coast.

This would be my second Southern Worthersee event, and would come with just as many personal experiences as the prior year. This year, I managed to coordinate staying with my friend Mike Koziel and a bunch of his friends in a cabin about ten minutes outside the city of Helen. It was particularly intimidating driving up to a random address in the mountains, and meeting eight new people I would be spending the next five days with. We had only interacted via iMessage prior to meeting, so it was particularly fun discovering the faces behind the phone numbers. We vibed immediately, and it was smooth sailing from then on. The nights I spent with them in the cabin were filled with laughter and storytelling (fueled by a steady supply of Hennessy, beer, and grill foods). However, I spend the majority of the event with my friend Hunter Kelley. We became friends at SoWo 2014 through Mike, and ended up bonding over watches and horology. That being said, our friendship was sustained by keeping in touch during our times studying abroad. The reunion felt like we saw each other the day before because of how well we kept in touch. We shared plenty of stories of our adventure in London and Japan respectively, as we traveled through the streets of Helen at all hours of the day. He was also the first person I trusted enough to drive my car, through the twisting mountain roads no less. I saw old friends, made new ones, and simply had one of the best experiences of my life.

Finding my place in Atlanta was more of an ordeal than I expected. I approached finding a place to stay with the entirely wrong direction. In the months prior, I had looked into apartment complexes in the Atlanta Metro area, and narrowed my choices to mostly places in the Buckhead neighborhood. These apartments were really intended for people to move into long-term, not for a 10-week internship. However, it seemed like I could make it work for my situation. What resulted was me sleeping on an air mattress during the first two weeks of my internship beginning. Thankfully, I found my way into a student housing hosted by Emory University eventually, but the hassle of getting in and out of the apartment complex would be a life lesson learned.

My internship at Porsche was intimidating at first, understandably. The corporate office was located outside of the Atlanta International Airport, standing there with tremendous presence. I was nervous for the first few days before falling into a groove. I met my boss, my boss’s boss, my co-workers, and my co-intern, whom I would grow to become great friends with. Perhaps it was the first week of mindless busywork that fostered our immediate hate for busywork, but Niklas and I soon found ourselves as a great team during our time at PCNA. The work could be dry and monotonous at times, but it was balanced out by some really exciting and important jobs, as well as a team of employees whom I could find at least one thing in common with, often our love for cars. I was extremely grateful for every moment I spent at my internship. I still am.

Simultaneously, I was able to maintain some of the friendships I made at SoWo, right in Atlanta. My friend Dustin lived close by, and was more than happy to show me around the area. With his help, I soon found myself with a wealth of new friends and connections that I simply could not have had without his help. I have too many fun memories in the Buckhead Grand with Dustin, Drew, D’Andria, Luke, Stoltz, and JMart, just hanging out, shooting the shit, and enjoying our free time. There are plenty others who I may be forgetting right now, but if you’re reading this, know that you are part of the reason why I’ll always have a piece of myself in Atlanta, and I’ll be coming back for it soon.

Returning home would be extremely difficult, not just because I would be leaving my newly-made friends, but I would be going back to a home missing someone I knew for a majority of my life. My cat, and best friend, Nottingham, passed away when I was down in Atlanta. I had to hold back tears when my mom told me on the phone when he passed in July, and had to hold them back again walking back into the house. For the short time I was there, it felt absolutely empty. If it were not for the support of my family, I would have probably fell into a deep depression prior to leaving once again for the 67th Japan America Student Conference. The house still isn’t the same without him, but I still have all the wonderful memories of the 14 years between us. I’ll never forget him.

The last week of July, I left for Los Angeles for the first time. I was on my way to pre-American Orientation for the Japan America Student Conference. I was one of 8 members on the Executive Committee for the conference. Last year, I was elected to the Executive Committee during my time as a delegate in the 66th JASC. We had been planning since then for this year’s conference, including the time I was in Japan, studying abroad. We would be having a short four-day preface to the conference to get the delegates acclimated before heading overseas to Japan. Seeing the old faces of my fellow alumni brought me back to the former joy of my time as a delegate, but with the added responsibility of organizing this year’s conference. Our preparation went smoothly, and we had a bit of time to celebrate before the delegates arrived.

The delegates orientation went fairly well overall, but not without its hiccups. Issues formed from the beginning due to an extremely complex relationship between one of the executive committee members and the delegates. We had known about this relationship prior to the conference beginning, but vastly underestimated the amount of grief it would soon cause throughout. However, the conference itself was priming to be exactly as we had planned.

Our first site, Hiroshima, was filled with plenty of discovery. The American and Japanese delegations would now be united as one. I had become close with the 8 members of the “Round Table” that I would be leading. Simultaneously, I noticed an immediate divide between certain members of the executive committee. This would be the beginning of a vast amount of conflict and resolution between the 16 of us, fueled by fundamental disagreements in coordination, behavior, and leadership. This was further agitated by dramatic events within the student delegation as the conference proceeded. That being said, most of this conflict occurred behind closed doors, away from the delegates just trying to enjoy their time and do their best.

I would say that shit hit the fan at Shimane site. That was where our relationship as an executive committee changed permanently. It exposed a very raw and very human side to everyone of the members. I’m not sure where everyone stands now, but I think that the recollection of that night will be scarred into my memories forever. I try not to think about it, along with some romance getting crushed along the way. Unfortunately, it is tied to my JASC experience, so the good and bad memories must coincide. Talk about a life lesson. The drama didn’t stop between the last two sites, but I just had to put it all past myself and do my job the best I could. Despite the conflicts, I think the 16 of us put on one hell of a successful conference for the delegates. I’m proud of that.

After the conference came to a close, my family came to visit in Japan. It was convenient since I was already there, and there would be few opportunities in the future for all of us to make a big international trip together. This was both exciting and stressful—on one hand, I got to show my parents one of my favorite countries in the would and what made it so incredible in my opinion, but at the same time, I had to pretty much curate the entire event—something I had been doing for almost a month already, and quite exhausted from it. Our vacation was not without its hiccups, including some navigation issues, getting locked into exorbitantly expensive dinner reservations by accident, and of course, the language/culture barrier. I experienced a bit of culture shock myself, going from a group of extremely bright and cultured university students, to my family members, whose understanding of Asian and Japanese culture is practically nonexistent. I stressed out over trying to have them integrate with the culture rather than just witness it, which I still think is important, but not as important as enjoying the experience of being with your loved ones on a new and exciting journey. Once I loosened up later in the trip, it became much more enjoyable. Issues aside, it was an amazing trip. I got to climb Daimonjiyama (for the 2nd time) with my mom, talk about life with my brother between beers and Lawson “karaage-kun,” and really just remember what it’s like to spend quality time with my family. And a lot of walking.

With a long flight back to the United States, I prepared myself for senior year at Villanova. This would be my first time living off campus. Fortunately, I lucked out for the fourth time in a row. I immediately vibed with my two new roommates, Mike and Andrew, and things with my roommate-since-freshman-year CJ were as familiar as ever. Our house was a pleasant place to be. My room on the second floor took a bit of time to adjust to, and we had a handful of micro-arguments in the beginning, but all are to be expected when living in a new environment.

Mike really pushed me to be more outgoing, and I’m thankful for it. Before his encouragement, I couldn’t even begin to imagine myself at one of the Main Line bars for more than an hour or two. Sure enough, with his words of wisdom, and a few drinks in between, I really started to enjoy spending my Friday nights on the dance floor until closing. I can’t leave out our dance routine for the JASC talent show for sparking my crave for more dancing, but it was Mike and my other roommate’s collective enthusiasm that kept me moving.

Along with SoWo, I attended my second H2Oi festival in Ocean City, Maryland in the first week of October. This would, unfortunately, coincide with Hurricane Joaquin. This meant rain on an event that is held entirely outdoors on the main strip of Ocean City. That was not about to stop us. By us, I mean myself and the five other car nuts that collectively rented out “Coral Ridge #4″ on 77th street. Bryan, JT, Hunter, Gallo, Howie, and I weathered the storm (quite literally) every day to see some of the craziest cars outside of Southern Worthersee. The weather made for an amazing mix of dramatic scenery, and prime conditions for vehicle hoonage all day. During the nights, we made our way around to different gatherings to see friends, old and new, and in one case, show up to a condo party with 100+ glowsticks, and take it to the next level (thank you Chris for hosting!). Again, I got a chance to see my good friends from all over the coast, and enjoy one of my passions to the fullest, despite possibly the most inclement weather I’ve experienced in a long time. Most of all, I formed a close-knit bond with my Coral Ridge family as we stayed together for the festival.

Mid-November, I made my way up to Boston to participate in the Boston Career Forum, and the Harvard Career Forum. The Harvard Career Forum was a supplement to the larger BCF, featuring select businesses in a more casual environment. It was there I would also meet my host for the long weekend. Unfortunately, in a very Japanese fashion, most participants took “business casual” as “wear a black formal suit with a black tie and be as formal as possible.” I somewhat anticipated, and steered more towards business than casual, but this didn’t relieve the pressure imposed by the room full of primarily Japanese international students fighting for an interview with Japanese companies. I was reaffirmed for my wardrobe choices by the event committee, and quickly built my confidence to talk to the businesses present, who actually followed the business casual suggestion. It was good interviewing experience, but I slowly came to realize that seeking a career with a Japanese company would prevent me from achieving some of my other life aspirations. The relatively low pay, and traditional (read: archaic) corporate culture set off red flags.

However, I was not about to throw in the towel. I committed to going to the Boston Career forum and seeing every option available. Fortunately, my host, Mirza, and the other students staying with him for the weekend made it easy to unwind at the end of the day. Mirza was the inquisitive type, if a bit blunt, but all for the better. He asked questions that had substance, and I felt inclined to answer through my own curiosity as to what he was seeking. Our conversations spanned a vast amount of topics, varying in depth, but never lacking in enthusiasm.

The Boston Career forum, despite my optimism, was exactly everything I had feared: overwhelming size, overwhelming competition, and job positions that simply did not fit my skill set, or at least what I could market. 95% of companies present at the convention were looking for business-level fluency of both Japanese and English. Oddly enough, more were concerned with a native level of Japanese over a native level of English. My suspicion is that the BCF serves Japanese international students more than Japanese-speaking students from other countries more than anything, but that’s a discussion for another day. What’s matters is that I felt defeated after a day of trying to show enthusiasm and initiative with every business I talked and interviewed with, only to be kindly turned away due to lacking the language requirements. If it was not for the fact that I did get a chance to acquire some serious interviewing experience, and catch up with a few JASC friends along the way, it would have been a total bust, but no experience is without its value I suppose.

Thanksgiving arrived, along with of my best friends from my time as a JASC delegate. I invited my friend Naosuke to have Thanksgiving dinner with my family since he would be staying in the United States during the time. He showed up right on time from the NJ Transit from NYC. Since we had a ton of time before dinner would be ready, I thought it would be great to show him some of the best parts of my neck of the woods. We ultimately ended up at Fort Hancock, located at the end of Sandy Hook, NJ. I had visited Fort Hancock and its abandoned military buildings many time in the past, including exploring with high school friends and band photo shoots, overlooking the fields of reeds and massive bunkers. I thought little of heading up once again to discover the magic of the slowly-crumbling buildings. We were not alone in our curiosity. Some other groups of people, even a family, were out and about exploring the fort’s remains. Evidently, Naosuke and I overstayed our welcome, and had to cut our photo-taking session short to explain to the park authority what we were doing. Fortunately, he was understanding and let us off with a warning. Talk about a Thanksgiving gift. I sure was thankful, and it made a good dinner table story. I definitely won’t be going back any time soon.

The end of the semester, and the end of the year came quickly. I soon found myself home for the holidays, catching up with extended family, and catching up on sleep while I could. Before I could even help take down the Christmas decorations, I found myself on a plane to Portland, Oregon, to go meet my bandmates Howie and Bryan to track guitars for our band’s upcoming album. Bryan was unlucky in meeting inclement weather and getting to the airport three days late, but we made the best of our time together at Howie’s home studio in the mountains of Camas, WA. It was a fantastic escape from the East coast. We spent New Years at a neighbors house, who just so happened to have worked on B1-B stealth bomber, the Challenger shuttles, and a space station. We were so immersed in our conversations we didn’t really pay much attention to the clock slowly passing into the New Year.

I find myself now, finishing this summary of 2015 in a hotel room in Santa Clara, where I’ll be spending some time looking at potential graduate schools in the region, as well as just enjoying my time before my last semester at Villanova University begins again. 2015 was monumental. I have never experienced so much joy, so much anguish, so much responsibility, so many opportunities to see the world, to see people, and to look inside myself. I still don’t know what the new year will hold. I know I will graduate, and I know I will be looking for a full-time job between then and now, and I know that I’ll be pushing to become an even better version of myself every day moving forward. I am thankful, I am grateful, and I am relieved that I can look back at every moment of 2015 knowing I lived it to the fullest.

I made my advances, met with an apathetic response,

I can’t remember exactly,

Something along the lines of,

“I guess I’ll take someone who notices me.”

We continued without emotion, awkwardly interacting.

I awoke, uncomfortable and longing for closure, clarity.

Everything I’ve wanted this entire time. 

You remain in my mind, a mystery.

Confusion surrounds your words and actions.

I do not seek comfort, I seek honesty,

Because I don’t believe that’s what I’ve received. 

When I opened myself, vulnerable to you,

I was given a response I simply can’t believe.

It conflicts with what I saw, it conflicts with what I see.

I’m left turning and tossing.