It's no secret that there are a lot of things I like - stuff like pandas, stationary and autumn come to mind. But high among that list would have to be roller coasters. Man I love me some roller coasters... There's just something about being hurtled through the air at 120 kph with the ever present threat of an unpleasant death (or at least a goose to the face) lurking at every gravity-defying hairpin turn that just sends shivers (the good kind) up my little panda spine.

When you say "roller coasters," most people don't usually think of Japan. And you'd be forgiven if you fall into this category because the truth is, the best coasters in the world are still probably in America. But for such a small country, Japan really gives American a run for its money in the coastering department. Setting aside the utterly lame (but inexplicably popular amongst the young-Japanese-girl set) Tokyo Disneyland, Disney Sea and Universal Studios Japan (the rides in all of which are considerably less entertaining than any late night train in Tokyo), Japan still sports an impressive array of roller coaster parks: the awesome Thunder Dolphin in Tokyo Dome Aqua City, the entertaining Yokohama Cosmo World, the old stalwart of Yomiuriland, and a host of others I haven't yet been to.

But the big daddy of them all has got to be Fuji-Q Highlands, located just out west of Tokyo in Yamanashi Prefecture, nestled at the base of beautiful (provided you're not foolish enough to climb it) Mt. Fuji. Fuji-Q is hands down the best roller coaster park in Japan for roller-coaster enthusiasts (If you're one of those people who goes to amusement parks to look at silly people dressed up as Mickey Mouse and watch lame parades, go away, this post is not for you). It features Japan's top three most famous roller coasters (the awesome Eiijyanaika, the rocking Fujiyama and the stupidly fast Dodonpa), and believe me, they are as good or better than anything you can find in your nearest Six Flags.

The problem with being Japan's most awesome roller coaster park is that in general, Fuji-Q is expensive and crowded. I've actually been once before (for some reason, I appear not to have blogged about that trip!?), and for our rather steep $50 admission ticket, we got to ride a grand total of 3 rides (plus a crappy kiddie coaster which we did just to get our "money's worth") due to the crazy lines. So you know, that kind of sucks. The thing about that though, is this is Japan. And people like to do things according to the "seasons." "Roller coaster season" is usually considered to be summer for some reason which means that if you're us and just wanna ride coasters whenever you damn well feel like it, current season not withstanding, things can work out very nicely indeed. Or, to put it another way, Fuji-Q in the summer = crowded and expensive. Fuji-Q in the winter, however, = empty and cheap. (admission is discounted in the winter). Guess what season we're currently in?

Oh yeah. Buckle your seatbelts.

I was walking through an uncharacteristically empty Harajuku a few weeks back (in the interest of full disclosure, it was New Years Day, so it's not like this was entirely unexpected) and found myself with some time on my hands to think, surrounded as I was solely by empty buildings and quiet alleyways.

My mind ended up turning to thoughts about my blog, life and future these days (not necessarily in that order, mind you). It's been almost 7 years since I moved to Japan and I thought that by now I'd know what I want to do with my life. Sadly, this does not appear to be the case. I think the core issue is that I'm a fickle panda: this is a blessing in that I have many and multi-varied interests, but also a curse because I tire of things quickly. Every time I think I have found something I want to do with my life, three weeks later I decide it's not really for me and I stop working towards it.

The main problem is that once you commit to something in your life, it means you can't devote equal resources to other interests you might have. Opening and deciding to go through one door, then, necessitates that you shut other doors to other paths that your life could take. If you're not really sure the door you're going through is the one for you, then it's a pretty horrible feeling to shut all those other ones, you know? What about if you figure out a few years down the line that your current path isn't the one for you?

But how do you know? I envy people who (seem) to know what they want to do with their lives. Me? I have devoted countless (undoubtedly emo-angsty-esque) hours to trying to figure out what it is that I want to do, and I'm still no closer than I was was when I was 18 and pretty much freaking out over the same thing. Whither progress, I suppose. It's tempting to simply resign yourself to the idea that at some point you need to just pick something and decide that's the way your life is gonna go, but the idealist in me resists this idea: it's like giving up, isn't it?

Of course, making no choice is like making a bad choice in and of itself, so one needs to get a move on, you know? It's like marriage: if you never find Ms. Right, do you either: a) just give up and marry some girl who you know isn't the "best one" for you anyway, or b) not marry anyone at all and just resign yourself to being alone (or at least unmarried), since it's preferable to settling for second best? The proverbial "rock and a hard place," I guess.