It has been exactly for 4 years,

since I came to NYC. I still remember hospital-like smell of the Salvation Army residence in the midtown where I stayed for the first 6 weeks. I had to wait for an hour at the waiting room for some reasons after the long trip on the airplane from Japan. People were not so nice. In fact, I was freaked out with the lady next door who came out shouting at me, when I was about to get into my room. It was around 2pm or so, but she wore a pair of pajamas. "What kind of place is this?" I wondered. I felt as if I had been in an asylum. My room was so small with the only sink and smelled like mold. I left everything in Tokyo and now was in the completely unknown world and future. I knew nobody. I felt like crying and did. I immediately unpacked my stuff and put up the photographs of my mother and friends. I did not build up concrete and solid life in Japan, but I had them and things familiar and comfortable. I was already over 30 at that time. For a little while, I regretted about my decision. I was scared of the subway, so I kept walking without knowing where to go to change my mood. It was still cold and windy. I stepped onto the streets firmly in order to really feel the fact that I came all the way. For a few weeks after my arrival, whenever I got out of the subway and walked towards the wrong direction, I didn't turn around. Thanks to the grid of the streets, I could change the direction by walking the entire block. I didn't want to look like a stranger or tourist. Now, I don't hesitate to turn around or I don't get so lost, which is not only about on the streets but also on my mind. I lit an insane tonight for the first day of NYC. I do want to say thank my decision, challenge, will and experiences first, then all the supporters especially my mother, then all the people whom I met here.

white

I painted home today. The reasons are: 1, I wanted to get rid of stains of chocolate milk on the walls and ceiling that I splashed over when I had a huge fight with my ex. 2, I planned to move out my apartment but I decided not to move out. The room looks brand new now and I feel fresh. If somebody visits my apartment, he or she will not know about the stains, which looked like Pollack's painting. Yes, I cleared off my past, but did I really? Is it possible to wipe the past? How hard I try to forget it, sometimes the memories flash back into my mind. Even though the wall and ceiling are now all white, I remember exactly where the stains were. It is not easy to let the things especially bitter memories go. When it comes to some sweet memories, we all hold on to them. I did something that I should have done or shouldn't have done. I wonder how others get away with it. No clue, I wish I could paint all white over my mind and go back to innocent mind. At least, my white walls and celing makes me feel good.