I must confess to you all – I have very much been unsatisfied with this website for quite some time.
So much so, that last year when the renewal time came, I strongly thought about simply letting the domain go and deleting all of the contents of it alongside its sister site, Stories from the New World.
I had originally started this website in 2018 I believe, after quitting my dream job – or rather what I thought was my dream job at the time. You know that old saying, about never meeting your heroes?
That had happened to me in college after attending an “industry” school and working in TV and film, and it happened again working in the Japanese media and entertainment industry.
As with the film + TV industry, in my previous job at a long-established and prestigious Japanese cultural center I came across many people: CEOs, actors, producers, politicians, manga artists, translators – and of course, the inconceivably wealthy. And while there were a few lovely and polite individuals, for the most part I hated all of them.
I hated all I met, who presented a sunny, welcoming, and encouraging disposition in public while in private, backstage, and while interacting with nobodies and “low-tier” workers like me they showed their true, horrid nature.
That is why I originally started this website – because I hated the industry for all of the darkness it encompassed, and how it seemed to consume or run-off those still yet pure of heart.
I vowed to try and do things my way and stay anonymous, and see where it could take me. And as you can see – it’s quite literally taken me nowhere.
I have not put as much time and effort as I should have into my own endeavors, and it shows in the reflection of this website. Thus, the disgust and inadequacy I feel for my own professional career and website have turned into this amalgamation in my head – where I personally acknowledge that I am a 33-year-old unmarried woman with no (truly impressive) accolades to my name and no reason to be enthused about my current day to day.
And yet, strangely, I have kept writing.
So much so, that in March when my house burned down (with my mother inside – thankfully she is okay and alive and still with me today) the first thing I thought about after learning my mother was taken to the hospital, was our personal documents and then what I had been writing these past few months by hand.
And for whatever reason, despite much of our belongings burning and being brought into a realm of eternal ruin due to soot and smoke – my writings over the past few months were alright. My books – my growing literary collection I use for research, was alright.
My computer hard drive – my external storage I purchased years ago which I bought as a safeguard for years spent in research of popular media and literary devices “just incase” the off-chance something happened – was alright, albeit a bit sooty and slightly charred – but still working.
When I went to grab something from under my bed – tools in order to fix something outside in the yard, I found my green screen from years prior when I was making YouTube videos in college that nobody saw, or watched from a channel I ended up deleting in defeat and shame at my lack of success.
And yet…here I am now.
Technically homeless. Still writing despite not being forced too, with a single suitcase to my name containing my worldly possessions – including miniscule pieces of paper, research, and writings from my room that should have burned in the fire, but did not for whatever reason.
I’m not sure why, despite floundering alone for a time from hotel to hotel, sick from stress and barely eating my first thoughts went to writing, and editing YouTube videos I was certain no one would see.
Why – after losing almost everything and having my personal identity exposed by local and national publications after the house fire being featured do I still care about such things?
Why do I still have all of these writings that I have deemed worthless, when I have already lost so much more that seemed important at the time but looking back, maybe must not have really been important at all?
And why do I still obsess and write about Attack on Titan despite the show officially (allegedly) being over? Despite never posting these things to this website, I still write about it. Quite often, in fact. I just never post it.
I write about so many different things, yet purposefully stifle my own voice.
After having so much time alone to think while my mother was in a place between life and death, and processing the loss of all of my worldly “things” and previous life in that home…I have come to realize that my life is what I make it.
I have lost and been through so very much, and yet I am still here. My mom is still here. And despite not putting much faith in my own abilities, my writings have survived an Act of God.
Maybe I should stop holding myself back and just post what I want for now (using a pen name, of course) and just enjoy the time I still have on this earth?
After all, my mother survived the fire. My paper writings and research hard drive survived, while things around it melted and have turned to soot and then ash scattered to the wind.
If my cart had not broken that day on the way back home from the store, I would most likely have ran into that burning home and never came out again in an attempt to save my mother.
So, what I’m saying is, what more do I have to lose, since I no longer can hide in the shadows of anonymity in my real life, nor have an excuse worthy of convincing myself of why I should stop posting on here?
What do you all think, as I know some of my readers are still around after my numerous and unabated hiatus’ over the years?
And…could you tell me if the honesty feels refreshing, or still forced like I’m holding myself back still?
Forever yours, In Asian Spaces (Shannon ☺)
Leave your thoughts in the comment section below, we’d love to hear from you! Also be sure to follow us for more of what I should truly be writing…and to see the start of what could be a great online community centered around the shared interests written on this blog!
☆ In Asian Spaces
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