On the Merits of Long Blog Posts

I love to write.  So long as my dreams survive I will think of myself as a writer first and a teacher second.  As a writer, I must call into question the purpose of my own blog.

Please stop crying, it’s here to stay!  But observing other blogs and struggling under my own high standards, I must ask myself several questions.  What am I to post here? Shall this website share my greatest adventures?  Should it tell just you about my day?  About Japan?  Must this blog be restricted to only the most interesting editorials I can write (even if I did, would my opinion count for anything)?  Am I expected to somehow mix my life and my opinions into one intriguing daily post?  That’s my greatest fear.  How can I make a routine day interesting?  What is life?

TimeMeMeMeOn the other hand, these high standards of publishing have left this blog empty.  My training buddy Rob has a blog full of his life’s adventures.  He writes interesting things and he has a large following.  But I’m forced to ask myself if I only enjoy reading it because I know Rob well.  It’s well written, but I probably wouldn’t have started, nor would I have continued, unless I knew him.  That begs another question: who is this blog for?  Surely, it’s for you.  But is it also not for future readers?  What am I?

I write this overly philosophical piece because I have a huge post forthcoming.  I’ll do my best to make sure it’s consistently exciting and relevant.  But a lot of it is a personal journey that one must feel a connection with me to appreciate.  It feels as if something is compelling me to recount the struggles and triumphs of the past few months.

It may take me years to figure out what’s worth publishing on the blog, or what’s better submitted to a newspaper, written in a postcard, or scrawled in my private journal.

The forthcoming epic is about my recent birthday celebration. And since I’m not famous, if you’re reading this, you probably wished me a happy birthday and still care to at least try to read it.  For that, I owe you my gratitude.

Whether you’re interested in the material on this blog or the egomaniac who writes it, I sincerely thank you for reading, will all my heart.

@gregnasif

Japanese People Can Write Better Than You In Any Language

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Surprises are big and small when you live abroad.

I am not sure how obvious this is to most people, but something that intrigued me about Japan is how everyone I encountered seemed to be able to read the Latin Alphabet.  Japanese people appear to read Latin characters, or in Japanese, “Romaji” (when he visited, my brother most eloquently asked “when you say Roman characters, you mean English, right?”) nearly on pace with native English speakers.

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Peas in a Pod

Let me tell you why I suck as a person.

My brother Chris is on his way to Japan. He will arrive at Osaka Itami International Airport at 8:15 PM on Saturday – in 18 hours.  I won’t be there to pick him up, because I accidentally promised a couple of students I would have drinks with them.  I am actually unable to cancel those plans.

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I Hate Fall and You Should Too

“Greg, are you serious?”

Arashiyama, Kyoto

Arashiyama, Kyoto

“The weather is so great!”

“Are you trolling us right now?”

“The foliage is so beautiful!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Pumpkin flavored beer! Football! The leaves!”

“You say you’re from Boston…”

I’ve heard enough.  I’ve been called crazy, tasteless, stupid, depressed, and I’ve been questioned on my authenticity as a New Englander.  I get it, I have few allies on this one.  But though I am an island, I know it is the promised land.  You’re all wrong on this.

I hate Fall, and you all should too.

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The Greatest Reaction Of All Time

   I apologize to my millions of faithful readers. My site is undergoing some ongoing (and sluggish) renovation and thus I’ve been unable to update it. But there’s no shortage of interesting experiences to report. Last weekend I took an overnight bus to the stunning city of Nagasaki.

   Known for centuries as Japan’s Catholic refuge, to this day Nagasaki is sprawling with seaside churches, set against lush mountainous backdrops that look more like South America than the Orient.

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