New Obsession: Mori Style

A few weeks ago, I discovered Mori.

Perhaps you are familiar with the fact of the many, many different street fashion styles that have been cropping up in Tokyo, Japan for a good while.  Around the internet, I've seen super cute and fake Lolita, Gyaru, and Ganguro girls (with their many facets), the OTT-Lolita dolls, the Kigurumi who dress like adorable animals, and the different facets of the dark Kei fashion, to name a few.

Well.  Here's my favorite.

Mori Style!

 Born close to 2006, and mainstream by 2011*

This popular mori girl checklist will break it down for you in 60 steps, but here's a sum up:

In Japanese, mori (森) means forest.  The idea of the mori girl is to look like she's just come from living in the woods.  A mori girl starts her wardrobe with the colors of the earth like white, cream, brown, and gray.  Other added colors tend to be dusty and gentle.  Light layers and loose silhouettes are a must, and then come the accessories.  Long necklaces, low heeled shoes, natural makeup and hair, and plenty of lace complete the look.

Here's what I thought when I first saw some examples of mori style.  Okay, first I thought that it was really nice and pretty, but then I thought, "Oh hey!  Isn't this what the hipsters are going for these days?"  Not the spirit hood type of hipster now, I mean the indie thrifty hipsters.  I'll show you what I mean.

(There are so many different ways to express this style!  I would flood this post with pictures if I could.)

via

Back in America: On the Transition of my Identity

I've been writing about transitioning to back to different foods, new friends, and old place.  Here I'm going to talk about the transition of my identity that has been necessitated by my move back from Korea.

First, I must say that, as a Christian, my identity is secure in Christ.  I believe that I have been created with God's divine inspirational for specific and thoughtfully orchestrated purposes.  I believe that the pieces of who I am have been carefully selected by a Creator who knows exactly what He's doing.  I believe that He delights in me, and that I am intrinsically valuable because I am His.  (I also believe the same thing about you.)

Second, I must say that I don't always act like I believe those things.

Third, I will confess that in the last 3 years, I've noticed a lot more insecurity in myself than I ever knew was there.  This stems from not being solid and strong in knowing that my identity stands in Jesus.

I'm broken, and I know it.  What you're about to read comes from someone working with the symptoms.

I Korea, I was an English teacher.  I was a dancer.  In other circles, I was the Christian.  I was the one who didn't get drunk.  In another, I was the loud one at Bible study.  I was the one sister in a group of dudes.  I was Kid Darkness.

Now, I don't have any of those labels.  I'm not automatically assigned "foreigner" status.  I can't connect with people because they're from the East Coast anymore.  I'm not obviously different from everyone on the subway.  (I don't even take the subway here.)

On one specific point now: In the West, your place in the world, your identity, is closely linked with your occupation.  I don't have anything to say when I'm asked, "So what do you do?"  I don't have a job.  (I don't have children loving me.  I'm not keeping up with my dance...)

I don't know where the lines are, but I think this is connected to the insecurity I wrote about a couple weeks ago.  Ah, wait, here's a line: As is natural, I've been sized up against the standards of society (like when people ask me what my job is), and I stand out as different because I don't have a job (which no one makes a big deal about).  I'm not in the standard of society because I just came from a different kind of position, and everyone I meet understands that and thinks it's fine, but I make a big deal about it in my mind.  I start to fabricate all these thoughts that must be going on in other minds.  No one else is comparing me to society, I do the comparing for them.  No one is telling me I'm less because I don't have a job or because I don't have a role in the community yet, I think that about myself automatically!  What the heck!?

Identity ≠ Occupation or lack thereof

Duh.

Identity ≠ Role in the community

 Yep, we know.

Identity ≠ Popularity

Well, obviously.

It's clear that my goals and my priorities have been misplaced.   Having my perception of myself being forcibly shaken up has brought all of this to the top of the tank and the front of my mind where it's much more difficult to ignore.  These insecurities have always been here, I'm sure, but the serious change that's scattered my mind has shed light on all of this.  I'm thankful to have people around me who help set me back on track, but I am still in the learning process, and it is no fun.  

One more thing Ruby said

Leftover story!

I never got around to telling it, but it needs to be told.

One day during our morning greeting/homework checking/hugging time at school, Ruby starting looking at my Caucasian face more closely than usual.  Noticing this, I turned to look back at her and cocked my head to ask what she was looking at.  Instead of speaking, she reached up and ran her finger along the bridge of my nose.  She then ran her finger along the bridge of her own nose.

Ruby's adorable nose starts to come away from her face near the end, so she has a flatter area until under her eyes.  My nose has a long straight line coming down from the center of my eyes to the tip.  Maybe this was the first time Ruby had noticed the difference, but I didn't know for sure because she still wasn't saying anything.  That's when I decided to speak up about the richness we can see in the wide spectrum of the human races.

I said, "Our noses are different.  We look different, don't we?"
Ruby agreed.
I continued with what I knew would be the clincher.  A nice, happy everyone-is-beautiful moment.  "But we're both beautiful, right?"
She looked me square in the eyes, squinted with just enough suspicion to make me feel stupid, and then she left.  She just left me there!

Ruby didn't actually say anything in this story.  She just pointed out the differences in our noses and walked away.  All of those opportunities to say, "Yes, Teacher, I am pretty and you are pretty," were just left hanging in the air.  It was a funny moment for me, and I laughed.

We are both beautiful, Ruby.  We ARE!

A picture of our noses together, for comparisonSee how they're both beautiful?

: )

Couple Wear: Success!

Well... This is as close to a success story as I'll ever get.

I admitted in July that I've grown so accustomed to seeing couple wear (matchy-matchy clothes on couples) that I would wear it myself.  By August, I was so infatuated with the idea, I started to want to match my boyfriend.  I shared my plan for getting my boyfriend to wear couple clothes with me.  Unfortunately, while my perspective on couple wear has changed, my boyfriend's has not.

Caleb and I are both in the same country again, as you know.  I still think couple wear is cute and silly, and I still totally want to go matchy-matchy with Caleb sometime.  He still loathes the concept.

But aha!  While I was still in Korea, I bought these two pairs of matchy socks.  One pink pair, for the girl, and one blue pair, for the boy.  Surely, surely Caleb would be okay with wearing a pair of socks.  In fact, at first, I didn't even point out that they matched mine.  He scorned them and turned away from me.  (Haha, oh so dramatic!)  I had taken my shoes off and was wearing my pair of matchy socks.  While he wasn't looking, I quickly put my feet next to his and carefully and sneakily put the blue pair on his shoes.  I was able to snap this picture right before he noticed and kicked the socks away.

VICTORY!!

Oh geeze.  This is the only victory I will ever have in this area, and I know it's a small one, but it makes me smile a lot.  No sock reference intended.

And, Caleb doesn't have to be embarrassed by this victory, because it was entirely forced upon him, poor guy.  So, darling, no worries.  No one will think you're being ridiculous.  I think I hold all of those cards.

Back in America: The Fourth Week

It's been a while since writing about the process of adjusting back to living in America.  I've been taking mental and physical notes about things I've noticed, though, so hopefully there won't be too many gaps between the information.

Observations
(The environment doesn't seem hostile...)

• Listening in on people's English conversations and finding out they're not that exciting. (fourth week)
• Still thinking I'm going to recognize everyone just because I'm "home" again.
• Still being cooled out that I don't have to use plug converters
• Hung out with new friends.  Didn't freak out.
• Realized in a heavy way that I do NOT want to live under my parents' roof for long.
• Girl I was walking with looked ahead, gasped, and said, "What in the world?"  It took me 10 seconds to realize she was talking about the SUV parked on the sidewalk.  People don't do that here, now do they.
• I don't feel the need to eat everything with chopsticks anymore (sixth week)
• Coffee is way too expensive.  I thought that was only in Korea.
• Panera upped their prices.  Lame.
• I was so happy when I slipped into Taco Mac with all the Falcons fans during the Championship game with the 49ers.  Everyone wanted one thing, for the Falcons to win (I wanted that, too!), and it was all about American football.  It was really cool to be happy about that.
• I was somewhere where I literally could not understand this one speaker because of his super thick Southern accent.  (eighth week)
• I ate kimchi and it was spicier and not as delicious as I remember.  :'(  (tenth week)
• I was excited to participate in a Super Bowl party and recognized it as a good thing because, Hey, Go America!
• I turned on the television to watch a TV show for the first time in maybe 2 years.  (eleventh week)  (Community!)

That's me in America!
Caleb and I have picked up a interest in taking pictures together.  We've walked downtown Newnan twice.  This is a picture Caleb took in one of the alleys there in December.

Deeper Observations
I'm now in my 11th week here, starting out in my third month.  I've been able to meet with some others who have been through similar experiences, I've gotten to read a few books on the topic of reverse culture shock, and I've found a great group of friends who are starting to make me feel like I have a spot here.  All those things are very good and have been extremely helpful.  My parents, too, have been understanding and patient which has helped me feel comfortable in our home.

I still have trouble talking about everything that goes on in my mind, though.  Actually, no, I can talk with strangers freely, but when I'm talking with family and friends, I'm worried about saying something that will offend them or that will hurt their view of me.  Just yesterday, I met up with a stranger for lunch.  She had traveled a lot, too, and encouraged me with questions about my experiences in Korea and my experiences here now that I've returned.  I spilled to her about some of the top issues I've been working with.  A month earlier, I was in an interview with a guy who said, "So what's it been like, now that you're home?"  I told him I usually don't talk about it very deeply because I'll start saying some harsh-sounding things, but he said, "No, man, I really want to know.  You're in a safe place."

The hardest person to talk with about everything has been Caleb, my boyfriend and best friend.  Here now, I want to tell you about the breakthroughs we've had.

Caleb loves his country, and I've felt uncomfortable saying negative things about it.  He didn't like hearing them, either.  Not in a, "Don't say that!" way, but in a "Aw, this is such a bummer you feel this way," way.  He and I would both feel off when I would bring up something I didn't like about what I was seeing, and one night we had a small explosion.

We discussed.  He was upset with how he perceived that I wasn't giving America many chances.  I would say that I didn't like it here, and then I would point out all these small things that irritated me, and those things aren't good reasons to not like a place.  I was upset by how I felt he wasn't being patient with me, and I told him that that's not why I don't like America, I don't like being here because I don't have a life here.

That was the kicker.

We slowly put the pieces together to realize that Caleb had been thinking I was upset with America because of those irritating things, but really I was sad because I missed my friends, my job, my students, my dance class, my city, and my home.  When I realized that Caleb had thought I was mad because of the irritating things, it made much more sense why he had been acting the way he'd been acting.

I still feel like it's risky to talk with him about American things I notice or things that get under my skin.  I still tread lightly.  But!  Just this last week, I found another very important thing to keep in mind.

I've made it very clear in my conversation, actions, and writings that I returned to America to invest in my relationship with Caleb.  He knows that.  Everyone knows that.  So, when I talk about missing Korea and about not liking it here, well geeze, how would it make him feel to hear that?  At the end of one of our "Lindsay Misses Korea" conversations, I ended with, "But, Caleb?  I do not regret leaving, and I am very glad to be here with you."  He told me that it was good to hear me say that, and he asked me to tell him that again in the future.  Aha!  Knowing how important it is for Caleb to know that I wouldn't leave him if I could make the decision again sheds much more light on how he feels when I talk about America and reverse culture shock.

Little by little we're getting closer and learning more about how to talk about and handle my transition.
I hope we win.

Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan, Part III

And here we are, the last of the pictures from my short trip to Tokyo.

These are from around the area of Sensō-ji temple, down the nearby side streets.

Leaving the temple area

There were many shops along the street.  The ones on the side I was standing on here were mostly closed.  The opened ones housed traditional papers, inks, and paintbrushes; traditional Japanese dress; restaurants; and old pictures or books.