There is one thing that I have begun to focus on in the past year or so, and have come to accept as simple truth. Often when people have travelled, they return with the simple exclamation, “It’s good to be home.” While I may have lived in the same general area of Canada for my entire life, I am more aptly described as a long-standing tourist, for this is not my home.
While it would seem that most people have a sense of being misunderstood or leftout, forgive me for coming off a bit pretentious in saying I am a bit of a unique case. If you take my basic living principles, I stand as a tiny fraction of a percentage in the society in which I reside. In virtually all aspects of life, from entertainment to enlightenment, I am in a miniscule minority at best.
So many can remain cheerful and expressive in this environment, a place of mutual similarity among all their unique differences. It may seem silly, but so many share the same general views in acceptance or rejection of ethics, religion, drugs, media, and politics. Though I do have many problems with the function of the society around me, with arguments to go with them, I recognize both the public’s contentment in its equilibrium and the utter audacity it would take to believe it could be changed.
Ethics and matters of principles I find to be fundamentally right or wrong all aside, imagine yourself in simply a foreign country, with a similar existence in stature and rights, but different in culture and certain legalities. I am in this foreign country, but I have not immigrated and I have no ticket back.
In my own naïveté I like to think of Japan as somewhere I would like to be, with so many things to which I feel an emotional connection, but I understand the cultural blind-spots I have to the parts that I would no doubt be at odds as well as even disregarding that, the complications in even getting there. It’s an outlet for a bigger problem without solution, in that I have a lasting desire to find my culture.
One point I have to consider is that in order for a purpose to be had, an acceptance of one’s environment must exist. Without that, the only purpose is to either find the right environment or change the existing one. I can’t change my country, and I have not a practical alternative.
At the least this provides one solace: The closest thing to a sense of belonging is the Internet, and consequently, my purpose thusfar has been tied to that. Expression flows freely, for I am in a place of comfort. And a sense of pride in all things it represents, however silly.
Ironically, however, this search for a comfortably cultural setting for myself is almost a contradiction, in that, my own standing is that almost without culture. That is, beyond the realm of societal quirks and where things are based on what is reasonable. A pipe dream, perhaps, and even this is at odds with an obvious mass number seen on the Internet.
Certain things permiate society so greatly that being at odds with it is in itself offsetting, and unfortunately, I am virually at odds with them all.
My thoughts have jumped around without reaching a point, but that’s really because the one point is rather indirect. All I can really derive from all of this is that I have another irreconcilable complication of life — an continual problem with no discernable solution.