What happens when things don’t work out as intended? Life happens, that’s the way it is.
It’s been a long time since I’ve sat at the computer and thought about things. Even more time has passed since I’ve scribbled with physical implements. The one thing I use a pen for is thank-you letters for my tour groups. Once you get into the groove, the words seem to write themselves. It’s different than using a keyboard—studies have shown the act of writing itself activates different neurons. While I’d like to use a pen and paper, I’m typing this at 03:00 in the morning for efficiency.
It’s a bit of a cyberpunk tragedy. Journaling should be just for oneself, for the pleasure of organizing thoughts and getting to know the self. But this modern fetish for efficiency has infected our lives, personal spaces, and thoughts. We only have so much of the confusing, ethereal essence of time. I was supposed to fall asleep hours ago, but things don’t always work out as intended.
Although my life isn’t going exactly where I want it to, it isn’t the worst thing. I think it’s a universal human experience to get stuck in our own version of an Endless Eight Arc. (Groundhog Day for you oldies, We lose the plot for the young kids who will never have the patience to read a blog.) When life starts to feel repetitive, we forget what we wanted in the first place. Being painfully self-aware is terrible for social situations, but it’s been extremely useful for writing. My blog has been a space to get in touch with how I feel, where I want to go, and who I want to be.
It’s Not Just My Space Anymore
When I started this space, I didn’t know what I wanted it to be. It was just my space where I could be myself. At first, I think I was trying too hard to impress the audience I thought would show up. Reading some of my oldest posts makes me gag. I had dreams of my blog having hundreds of thousands of readers, like Tim Ferriss. I’m glad that didn’t happen at a young age. Sure, I might be better off financially if it had, but I fear I would have lost myself.
Even now, I struggle with machines telling me how to write “better” content—whatever that means. It’s counterintuitive, but now that I’ve been writing for myself, I’ve found a bit of an audience.
And although more people are discovering Laidback Lifestyle, I’m not going to change my writing style or what I write about to please an algorithm, a machine, or anyone else. Maybe my love of cyberpunk makes me crave a digital place to call my own. Unless kids today build their own websites or blogs, they’ll never know the freedom of “my space.” Facebook, LinkedIn—they claim to give you your page, but a standardized format isn’t really yours.
Making a Digital Footprint
Maybe I just want to leave a mark on the world—my own digital footprint. My older sister insists that I should “sanitize” mine, and while I love her, we’ll probably never agree on that. If I’m struggling with my mental health, finances, or even something as trivial as ranking up in a video game, I’m going to write about it or post a video somewhere.
It’s not like I’ve ever been hired by a massive corporation anyway. They don’t seem to want me.
If I can’t be my authentic self on my own channels, then they aren’t really mine. When I kick the bucket, am I really going to let corporations shape my digital persona just because they might see me as a potential employee?
To all the new readers—thank you, really. But I’m not going to change who I am to please you. Neither of us would want that. I encourage you to also embrace being your true self online.
Reflecting On Building Your Own Spaces
I’ve made another blog post about building a PC. There’s something special about creating something unique and making it truly yours. For now, we access the internet through our computers or phones. And like many things in life, building a PC isn’t always as straightforward as intended. I like to think that building a PC is a lot like life itself. We visualize something, gather the parts to make it a reality, and try to put it together based on our mental blueprint. When things don’t work out as intended, we problem-solve. That’s what humans do best.
For geeks, collecting tech is also like life—you’re never really done. Even when life feels whole, there’s always another upgrade to install. Small optimizations, like getting longer cables or a monitor arm, can improve your setup. We can’t upgrade our bodies like that yet, but give it 500 years, and humans will be upgrading RAM, organs, and limbs instead of external machines.
The Ideal vs The Real
To bring this tangent back to the plot—another way PC building is like life is in the tension between the ideal and the real. The ideal build might have a Ryzen 9 9950 X3D paired with an Nvidia 5090 and matching OLED monitors. (Good quality, high performance, high cost, for the noobs.) But my PC is a hodgepodge of used monitors, free accessories, and parts carefully picked for their price-to-performance ratio.
Life is the same way. I was supposed to move to Japan, teach English, learn Japanese, save up, and use that money to attend an animation or art school. Reality turned out differently. Things didn’t work out as planned, but do they ever? I’m rolling with the punches, playing the cards I’m dealt. Not many people get to move to another country. Some of my friends tell me that what I’m doing is “great,” but honestly? I’m just doing my best to survive.
Guiding Light
I tried following the soft guidance of life and ended up a tour leader living in Kanagawa. My most popular post—based on organic traffic—is my account of becoming a tour guide. But I never planned for this career. I got here because I love helping people, photography, and adventure. The irony is that my sense of adventure wasn’t cultivated through real experiences but through virtual ones.
Cinema and video games sparked my love for exploration long before I ever set foot in Japan. The fantastical worlds I traveled through inspired me to seek out the unknown in reality. And just like any great journey, things don’t always go as intended. Lord of the Rings isn’t compelling because it was a smooth journey—the trials and tribulations make it worth telling.
For a long time, I thought adventures like these weren’t meant for people like me. I’ve always been sensitive to the world around me, a little too aware of things most people brush off. But then I remember—Tolkien made the most sensitive character the protagonist. Perhaps that says something about who is truly fit for adventure.
No, I don’t think I’m the main character. I don’t have MC syndrome. But in my own little micro-universe, it sometimes feels like I am.
I know that everything I do in this life will eventually vanish, fade away—much to the discontent of Johnny Silverhand and Samurai. But maybe that’s why I want to carve out my own space in the world. Maybe we all do.
Although I’m not the main character, as Joe Rogan says, live your life like it was a movie.
Who is the Guru Here?
During my tours, I often tell my groups that one of the reasons I came to Japan in the first place was my interest in Eastern philosophy. I’ve always wanted to meet a true guru. One of my favorite stories is how Ram Dass met Maharaji, a spiritual master who changed his life forever.
While I haven’t encountered a guru like that, I’m lucky that in my role as a tour guide, I meet gurus from all over the world. After all, we are all teachers in some way. Just like when I was an “English teacher,” I feel like I learn more from my guests than they do from me.
I’m still waiting for my chance to meet a guru like Maharaji, but for now, I get to learn about different perspectives from people across the globe. Things don’t always go as planned, but I’ve learned a lot from my tours.
How Are The Tours Going?
While I’ve written about my experiences as a guide, my posts don’t always capture the unique moments I’ve shared with people along the way. I’ve spent Christmas with a family that wasn’t my own, celebrated a school milestone with a fellow anime fan, and just wrapped up a tour where things veered off the usual path—but it turned out to be an incredible journey nonetheless.
This post was inspired by two specific groups. Both experiences reinforced one of my biggest lessons: when things don’t work out as intended, just start anyway.
When Things Don’t Work Out as Intended, Just Start Anyway
Recently, I toured with a family living in Thailand. We explored Harajuku and visited some of my favorite spots in Matsumoto and Nagano. As we traveled, we discussed technology, the future of AI, and the implications of advanced computing. Almost all of my customers—and probably anyone who reads this blog—know why I came to Japan. I often share a bit about my life so my guests feel comfortable opening up about theirs.
During this tour, I shared an idea I had been sitting on—an application and company concept that had been floating around in my mind for a while. I expected polite encouragement at best, but their response surprised me. They thought it was a brilliant, creative idea.
“Don’t worry about how you’re going to get there; that will come,” they told me. “Just spend a couple of hours a week putting something together. When you have an idea, default to action. Start building prototypes, create an action plan, and share it with people who might be able to help. Take their feedback into account and rebuild. These things take time, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
I took their advice to heart, and I’ve started building the idea up slowly. Because sometimes, when things don’t go as planned, you just have to start anyway.
The Tour That Went Correctly Wrong
This tour wasn’t a disaster, but it forced me to rethink how I approach things. On the surface, it might have seemed like an ordinary trip, but by Day 4 in Nagano, things started to feel different.
Up until that point, the tour had been progressing smoothly. But on Day 3, in Matsumoto, I felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia when we passed the ramen shop where I met my ex-girlfriend. That shop is now just an empty storefront, a quiet reminder that life moves on.
My guests were curious about my old life. It felt strange talking about it—like revisiting a different version of myself. When I first started this blog, it was about my experiences living in that quiet city. I sometimes wonder about the alternate reality where I stayed with her, settled down, and built a different kind of life.
There’s a part of me that regrets it didn’t happen that way. If given a second chance, maybe I would have chosen differently. She was everything you’d want—kind, hard-working, loyal. But life doesn’t give us save points, and not every path is meant to be walked.
Appreciate the Time You Have, Even More the People in Your Life
The lesson I’ve taken from my time with her is simple: even when things don’t go as intended, you have to appreciate what you have while you have it. Having someone who truly cares for you is not something to take for granted.
I carry that lesson into every relationship in my life. The moments we share with people won’t last forever, so it’s important to cherish them while we can. As a younger man, I don’t think I fully understood the value of love and connection. It was something I only truly grasped after I lost it.
In a Different Time Line
That night, I wandered into Matsumoto Yokocho, a collection of small izakayas, and found myself at a new place. A friendly face greeted me as I stepped inside—a young woman who gave me a warm smile and a wave. She wasn’t an employee, just a regular who made the place feel more welcoming.
We struck up a conversation in my limited Japanese. Her name was Mari, and she had lived in Matsumoto her whole life. She told me she had come to the izakaya alone because she “had no friends.” I laughed and teased her a little—my sister used to say the same thing.
The shopkeepers laughed too. It was clear that they had known her for a long time. Despite her words, she wasn’t alone. The warm atmosphere of small-town Japan has a way of making strangers feel like family. We talked about life, her recent ear piercing, and other small things before I finally had to leave.
As I got up to pack my things, she asked, “Do you come here often?”
“Once every couple of months,” I replied. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”
I stepped out into the cold night air, alone once more. In another timeline, maybe I would have asked her to dinner. But in my line of work, settling down is nearly impossible. Funny how life works—I had planned to go straight back to my hotel without drinking. Instead, I checked the time and saw it was nearly 22:00.
Well, some things don’t work out as intended.
I Intended for a More Peaceful Hike
The next morning, our group set out for Jigokudani. I’ve been to the Snow Monkeys countless times, but I still find them charming. The hike to reach them is usually straightforward—cold and icy at times, but mostly flat and manageable. This time was no different, or so I thought. I had even bought crampons, just in case, expecting a standard winter trek.
What I should have feared wasn’t the climb—it was the descent.
By the time we left the park, the weather had taken a sharp turn. The calm, crisp air had given way to a blizzard. Heavy snow weighed down tree branches, sending flurries cascading around me like nature’s own avalanche. The trail I had walked countless times had transformed into something entirely new—wild, unpredictable, and breathtakingly beautiful. I made it to the bottom of the mountain cold, wet, and awestruck. Sometimes, when things don’t go as planned, they reveal a different kind of beauty.
While the Trail Was One “Problem” Dinner Was Another
That evening, I faced another unexpected detour. Usually, I take my guests to a fantastic family-run restaurant, a hidden gem I’ve come to love. But that night, it was closed for a family holiday. Instead, I gave the group free rein to explore Nagano’s food scene, and many of them ended up at a place called Monzen Terrace Enya. Their reviews were overwhelmingly positive, so I made a mental note to take future guests there.
As for me, I wandered through the city, thinking I knew Nagano inside and out. But just when you think you’re an expert, life reminds you that there’s always more to learn.
I stumbled upon a small katsu restaurant run by an elderly man and his family. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth—the kind of place you only find when you aren’t looking for it. As I sat down, I struck up a conversation with the owner. He told me the pork he served came from Gunma Prefecture, but what caught my attention was his own story. He had moved to Nagano for work years ago but found more joy in running this little restaurant than in anything else.
That meal, that conversation—it reminded me that even when things don’t go as intended, sometimes they turn out better than expected.
Hiroshima Pancake Village
If this tour had an unintentional theme, it was food-related inconveniences—first-world problems, am I right?
One of my favorite spots, Okonomimura, was closed for the Emperor’s birthday, meaning I couldn’t take my guests there. The next night, I decided to go alone. Each time I visit, I make it a point to try a new stall, as no two places make Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki quite the same way.
Initially, I was eating alone, but soon, the man sitting next to me struck up a conversation with the shop’s Mama-san.
“There are a lot of foreigners here tonight, huh?” he said in Japanese.
“I know, right? It’s a shame, though. The okonomiyaki here is amazing,” I replied with a laugh.
Before I knew it, we were sharing drinks, and I had made a new friend. Yamada-san, a wise old man with a laid-back demeanor, bought me a round of sake as we talked about life, history, and the strange intricacies of existence.
Later, I found myself in an American culture bar, surrounded by basketball memorabilia and classic rock blaring from the speakers. It was a surreal but oddly comforting shift. Sometimes, when things don’t work out as intended, they open the door to new people, new experiences, and new flavors of life.
Taking a Lesson Home
If a trip filled with unplanned moments can still turn into something incredible, maybe the same is true for life.
Just because I’m not exactly where I imagined I’d be right now doesn’t mean I can’t have an extraordinary journey along the way. My path—whether it leads to art, music, or the gaming industry—won’t be as straightforward as others, but that doesn’t make it any less valuable.
So I’ll keep moving forward, embracing the scenic route. I encourage you to do the same.
Much Love 🩵❤️🩷💖🦥
LaidbackMarco
