It has been awhile since I've written anything. A shame, although nothing particularly exciting happened during the 4 months that I was back home. Of course it was wonderful to be with family again, and to be back in my beloved state of Minnesota. The fall I spent desperately trying to find some form of employment. This was a frustrating time--I was looking for any sort of job, from waitressing to retail. Now, I've always worked during the summers while in college, and always did work study during the school year. So I've had plenty of jobs and internships over the years. And I think my C.V. is not too shabby for all of that.  However, many of my jobs, experience and other qualifications are related to research. So a four year undergraduate degree with honors and a Fulbright doesn't really get you far in the work force. I applied over and over again for all manner of positions and only had three interviews, one of which wanted long term and not short term workers which ruled me out. I ended up applying to Brueggers Bagels and my experience working in the St. Olaf cafeteria my freshman year (and hopefully my charm during the interview, ha) got me a job offer on spot. After all the difficulty and stress of looking for work and the impending date of my hefty loan payments approaching, I instantly accepted the offer. Despite signing my soul over to sandwich-making, I felt at least a small measure of pride to have been hired on the spot, which the manager said he never did. Looking back, and seeing how cheaply I could be hired plus the fact that I have a bit more maturity than your average highschool employee, I see that economics perhaps had more to do with the offer than any characteristics on my part! So for approximately 3 months, I woke up often at 5am for 6am shifts and dolefully made bagel sandwiches. More often than not I was up and walking to work hours before the sun, and watched the stars in the cold, dark, beautiful sky.  Eventually I learned to be cashier as well. I also take some pride in how quickly and efficiently I was able to learn everything. In fact, I was darn good. It was incredibly stressful at first, with constant rushes of customers and lines out the door combined with early mornings. I had my share of rude or insulting guests, but also many others who were pleasant and polite. But once I got the hang of things, I could make everything move fairly smoothly and I was genuinely touched by the compliments I received from my managers as well as many customers. That helped to ease some of my frustrations that came with the job. And as I often remind myself, all experiences give new skills. My new skills include cracking 6 eggs in 8 seconds, as well as assembling a sandwich in less than fifteen. On a more serious level, I value the chance to improve my patience, my ability to multi-task, and keep my perspective grounded. I firmly believe that each and everyone should be required to work in food service at least once in their life. There were many times that I wanted to hand over my apron and cap to the customer and say, "now you try this out," time them, give them multiple custom orders, in order to give them an idea.  Ironically, the post-church crowds on Sundays were among the rudest. You may not even be aware of how rudely, impatiently, or unfairly you are treating those who prepare your meals (or provide many other services at other stores!). Don't take out your anger or frustrations or arrogance on the person in front of you. Take a deep breath and remember that they are a human being just like you! I appreciate the insight and although I already had food service experience, it was a refresher and reminder to make sure I treat each person with a smile both when I am a customer and when I am a worker.

During this time, I was also stressed and busy attempting to find potential advisors who might accept me into forest ecology/science graduate programs. It has been a long, difficult, and disheartening road. I have spoken to at least ten professors (though I estimate 15 or more) at at least 5 different programs, all of whom informed me that while I was a qualified candidate who might do well in their lab, they would not be accepting any graduate students due to lack of funding. How many emails have I written over the months, describing my experience and hopes for research, only to receive a few sentences back thanking me but turning me curtly away. If I am honest, it has angered and confused me. Now, I am a humble person. I try not to brag about myself. But I do know my own worth, and I do know the caliber of my experiences. If anything, I am OVER-qualified for a masters program, and well-qualified for a PhD program. While I do not doubt that there are many others with considerable experience, I know with certainty that I rank among them. I have often expressed my frustration with the system of our society wherein an individual can know the course they wish to pursue. They can have all the will and ambition in the world, and have decided what they would like to do--and yet, in the end, the decision is never actually their own. Others--panels, admissions committees, managers, potential funding decisions etc.-- are always at the helm.Where you get your education, where you can get funding, where you are hired, so many things in life are chosen by others, and frequently others who scarcely know you. My future has, and can be, dictated by the simple stroke of a pen, by someone far away who has never met me in person. And yet they are dictating in a very real way, the direction of my life. So, needless to say, I have been discouraged. I have come close to giving up, to admitting that my will has been defeated. My family, likely, knows how hard I have tried over the past months and the past year to find a program. When I think back to this time last year, I had just barely learned that I was accepted into a masters program at Yale. Shortly thereafter, I would learn that I could not accept, because I would not be able to meet their extremely high tuition costs and they would not provide further (or even close to sufficient) funding. I feel that my time is being wasted. I feel that I am growing older and that I am running out of time to get started. I feel that I am losing motivation. Science has always been a struggle for me, even if I enjoy so much about what I get to learn. It has been so tempting to admit defeat and to give in to the lure that has always pulled at me to become an illustrator, or to become a historian. These interests are a strong part of me, that I have set to the background (though NEVER abandoned) because I feel that right now, in this world, what is most important is for me to learn how to protect the earth. History and art can do so much to help, but I must also have the authority of science. Not because "science" is in any way superior to other forms of knowledge. All disciplines are intertwined, merely lens for the same sight. Yet because of the nature of politics in the United States and many other countries, I know that my hopes for protecting this earth, my reasons, my explanations, these will not be heard by the masses or by governments without the backing of "science" (and even then, scientists are largely ignored!). I want to combine all disciplines that I can in order to protect our earth. Science will give me the authority, history will give me the context and the grounding, and art will help the expression. There are so many ways my interests combine, and can become far more powerful together than separate. However, there is a certain trajectory that I feel will bring them together most effectively. And that involves graduate school in ecology/science. From there I will draw in history, always carry art with me, and hopefully pull in some legal experience as well. I will be heard.

Anyways, my frustrations concerning graduate school have not been resolved. But I am hoping that I will be accepted somewhere, by some whim of some professor. Because here is something about me that you must know: if you give me an opportunity, I will multiply that gift tenfold. I will work as hard as I can, out of gratitude and dedication. It takes only a chance. For this reason, I am everyday grateful to the chance that Fulbright gifted to me.  And now, I will tell you about another opportunity, for which I am both astounded, humbled, and so very, very grateful. As you might know, after declining at Yale, I got in touch with a climate change professor from Australia who had visited Hokkaido University while I was there. Amazingly, he has written me into a grant and now I am a Visiting Fellow at the University of Western Sydney Hawkesbury Institute of the Environment. My air fare and room and board are entirely covered, and for three months I will be assisting in climate change related plant ecology research. I cannot begin to express my gratitude to this professor, who has provided this opportunity to me out of his own generosity to give young researchers a chance.

As some of you know, I am now back in Minnesota. On September 16th, I met the day that I dreaded--my last day in Sapporo. I had spent the past week trying and failing many times to pack all of my belongings and take apart the room that had become my home. After the first attempt, I panicked, found a night bus to the peninsula of Shiretoko (the most uninhabited part of Japan) on the eastern side of Hokkaido, and fled. It left at 12:30AM, drove through the night, and I arrived with a vague plan to climb the mountain known as Rausu dake. I arrived at about 6AM, to learn--as I had roughly anticipated--that there were scant buses into the Shiretoko national park. To my great fortune, two French travelers had also disembarked with me, and after asking them if they knew of any buses and learning that they were simply going to hoof it (about 3 miles), they invited me along! I spent the rest of the day hiking along the roadside, seeing a bear within the first few hours, reaching the mountain hut, helping the two French travelers translate, climbing Rausu with them, spending the night with them, and hiking part of the next morning with them. Although I had planned on traveling alone, it was really a welcome and wonderful experience to hike with them. They were so friendly! I hope that our paths will cross again. My mind was often clouded by my dread about my upcoming departure from Japan, but for a time in Shiretoko I found calm. I swell with gratitude every time I think of the beautiful land of Ainu Mosir (Hokkaido). I was only in Shiretoko for one night and two days, so I could not do the entire traverse of the mountains. Coming back into the town of Rausu in the afternoon, I managed to catch the last boat tour. I was left in awe. I had not realized how high and incredible the cliffs around the coast were, or the deep admiration I held for the ocean as we glided through the waves. I was honored to see another bear and her cub eating salmon. I could have cried, gazing out at the rocks and trees--dwarfed by the the magnitude of the cliffs--and the seabirds swirling in the skies above each precipice. I thought to myself, what need have we of fantasy? This world is more fantastical than even the most creative human imagination could ever conjure. I am so grateful to live in this world, on this earth.

In my last days, I bid farewell to my lab and Koike-sensei. Saying goodbye to Koike-sensei was perhaps the most difficult thing I had to do. Afterwards, when I was alone and biking back, I immediately broke into tears. Koike-sensei has acted with such generosity towards me. I think of him much like a father! He has taught me, helped me, and supported me selflessly. I have learned so much from him and his dedication and hard work will always inspire me. I desperately hope that I will have the chance to meet him and the many lovely lab members and post-doc students who helped me.  I hope in some way I can return his kindness in the future. I also said goodbye to the wonderful professor Jeff Gayman, whose trust, kindness, and continued assistance opened so many doors for me to meet and learn from Ainu communities. I owe him greatly for this gift. The last few months that I was in Hokkaido were absolutely brightened by these experiences. I will always send my strength to the many Ainu people working hard to find ways to revive and protect their culture. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. ('Thank you'). Lastly, over my last few days the Hokkaido University track and field members gave me so much joy and so many smiles. The middle distance/distance girls took me out to a desserts buffet for lunch, and then a couple days later a group of sprinters took me to a cake buffet! Needless to say, I had quite a few sweets over my last week. I was absolutely touched. I appreciate it so much. I am generally a shy and quiet person, and so I am often surprised by such warm acts of friendship. On my very last day in Sapporo, it poured all day. I frantically wrapped up my last bits of packing, mailed my last packages, tied up my last ends. My fellow Fulbrighter Becca and my friend Kotaro ate Hara (tofu flour) donuts with me one last time, and then I went to the train gates at 6:30PM...where half of the track and field team was waiting for me!!! I laughed and smiled talking with them all, then they all bought 100yen tickets and came out to the platform with me!!!!! I was shocked! Before the train arrived, we all circled up, arms interlaced over shoulders, and they sang the school song to me. When they finished, eyes turned to me, and I did my best to string together the heartfelt thank you, friendship, and deep gratitude I felt for them all without breaking into tears. A few tears slipped out, and my voice wavered, but I was surprised by my own ability over my last days to hold together. I will never ever forget their kindness. They turned the day I had dreaded most into one of my dearest memories.

Once the train doors closed, the tears began, but they were tears of both happiness and sorrow. At the airport as I sat waiting for my (2 hour delayed) flight, tears fell unabashedly down my face. Because of a typhoon, my flight was extremely late and I finally reached Tokyo around 1AM. Then waited in a literal 2 hour line for a taxi (since it was so late that there was no other form of transportation) to a hotel were I slept a few hours (from 3:30 AM~6:30AM). On the morning of September 17th, I ate my last Japanese breakfast, ran for my last time in Japan in the same place I had run for the first time 1 year before, went to the Fulbright office to say goodbye and thank you, then to Meiji Jingu shrine to give thanks once more. Although my last day in Sapporo had been grey and a downpour--of course brightened by the kindness of others but wet nonetheless!--my very last day in Japan, in Tokyo, was beautiful sunshine. I am grateful to whatever forces conspired to grant that gift. I closed my phone account, and then caught a train to Narita airport. I gazed lovingly out the window at the landscape and cityscape of Japan. I tried to soak in every minute, like the last rays of warm sunshine. At Narita, I picked up my bags, checked them, and went through security with my banjo and backpack, with a deep, deep breath. I was saying goodbye to my home all over again. And it was more painful than before.

On the flight, I was very lucky (thanks to the help of the Japanese airport worker who checked me in for my flight at the kiosk) to have a window seat AND no one sitting next to me! My luck ran out when there was an announcement that there were mechanical problems with the plane's navigation system and after more than an hour of sitting and waiting on the plan as they tried to correct it, we all had to disembark, wait for a NEW plan for another hour or so, and then re-board. At least I still had two seats to myself. My flight had been scheduled to leave at 3:50PM but it was about 7PM by the time we finally started towards the runway. I remember that the sun was setting. I took another deep breath. And then I was in the sky. I watched the lights of Japan's coast until they disappeared. Then steeled myself against my sadness and tried to keep my head held high. I will be happy forever, for that one year in Japan.

While flying, I became more and more encouraged by the thoughts of seeing my family and friends. 12 hours later, gliding over the familiar cityscape of Minneapolis, it felt as if I had hardly left. It felt as if I was waking from a long dream. My family met me at the airport, and I was genuinely happy to see them. But I think I will never be the same, and my heart will always feel torn in two when I think of Japan, and Hokkaido. And it is always on my mind. There is not a day that my thoughts do not wander through the mountains and forests of Hokkaido, the streets of my neighborhood, the Shinkawa river widening out towards the ocean, the climb up Teine and Moiwa mountain , the agriculture building and mainstreet of the university, the shrines and temples of Honshuu, the bright, beautiful sidewalks of Tokyo, the hills of Nara, the cedars of Koya, the trains and stations, and many other places I was fortunate to see. There is not a day that I do not remember.

Now, I am in Minnesota again. And I am certainly glad to see the familiar fields and the city of Minneapolis, to run again around the lakes and to see family and friends. In particular, I am happy to see my dad again. I am struggling to course my future from here. I am planning to reapply to graduate school for forest sciences, but I continue to feel naive and lost when it comes to choosing a program. I also need desperately to find work here in Minnesota, as my student loan payments are a constant worry. BUT, there may be some hope for some excitement and a new chance to learn this year even after the disappointment of not being able to start my graduate school plans at Yale. It is still not certain, but I may be written into a grant by an amazingly generous and kind professor in Australia, where I will be able to help with a climate change research experiment for a few months! I am so indebted to the professor for working with me to create this opportunity. Even if it does not come to fruition, I am so grateful to him!

This summer has gone by far too fast. As some of you know, I spent the past
months at home with my family--in particular hoping to spend time with my little
brother, Paul. It has been so great to see him everyday! This was the first summer since since highschool that I lived at home for the summer. Other than that, I have
also been working on a new illustration project (which I'm very excited about)
and preparing for a year in Japan.

Regarding Japan, there are a few updates. At the beginning of the summer, I did not know where I would live. I am very grateful to Hokkaido University, however, for finding me a home. I will be living in the Hokudai International House Kita 8. I have no idea what exactly the rooms are like, but if I don't like it I'm sure I could look for an apartment elsewhere after a few months. Generally, I'm just happy to have a bed to sleep in! It will be a surprise for when I arrive, I suppose. Speaking of arriving, I will fly from MPLS to Chicago, then a direct flight from Chicago to Tokyo on September 17. That's only 10 days away! The first 2 and a half days are an orientation for the Fulbright in Tokyo. Then I fly (or take the train? I can't decide) to Sapporo, where Hokkaido University is located. I sure am nervous! Its really started to hit me recently that I won't be able to play catch with my little brother or give my family members a hug for a whole year. . . I think that will be very difficult for me. But I know that I will grow from the experience of living in another country, and I am so grateful for this chance.

Well, other than preparing for Japan, I was also fortunate to take a road trip with my Dad, brother and sister. We drove from Minneapolis to San Francisco! The main goal was to see the Red Woods. We left on Sat, Aug 18th and then flew home to MPLS from San Francisco on Fri. Aug 24th. It was so amazing to see the land as we drove. The first leg was MPLS to Bozeman MT (so we drove up to Fargo, then across North Dakota). The next leg was from Bozeman MT to Glacier National Park. Glacier was my favorite. Up until this road trip, I had never seen a mountain before. Goodness, I did not want to leave them! Unfortunately, we only had time to spend a few hours there. One of my highlights was running up a mile at the top of the mountain road in Glacier while cars passed me and thought I was crazy! Next we drove from Glacier to Portland, OR. From Portland, we drove to Crater Lake (a lake formed in a volcanic crater). Then we drove to Crescent City, CA. We arrived in the evening, and drove on highway 101 which goes through Redwood stands. They are simply spectacular. We spend that Wednesday amongst the Redwoods then on Thursday drove to San Francisco--we took the back roads and part of the coast, and goodness it took forever. When we drove into San Francisco on Thursday evening, a huge fog had rolled in. I have never seen fog from the ocean like that! Unfortunately, it meant that we couldn't actually see the city or the Golden Gate Bridge. The next day, we flew home. It was a wonderful, wonderful trip, and the first road trip that I have ever taken.