Hiroshima Bound: Placement, Paperwork, and the Strange Beautiful Chaos of Going

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

Posted in: JET Journey

Photo by Patrick Nguyen on Unsplash

I know where I’m going.

Hiroshima Prefecture.

I’ve been sitting with that for a few days now, turning it over, letting it settle. Hiroshima. Close to the ocean — which, as someone from landlocked Arkansas, feels like its own kind of miracle.

Here’s the thing about Hiroshima — we’ve actually been there. On our trip to Japan last year it was, without question, our favorite place we visited. There’s something about Hiroshima that feels different from anywhere else. Welcoming in a way that’s hard to articulate. Impactful in a way that stays with you long after you leave — the history there is heavy and important and handled with such grace and dignity that you walk away feeling like you learned something that actually matters.

And then there’s Miyajima. If you know, you know. If you don’t — just wait. I’ll be writing about it extensively. 😄

What excites me most isn’t the sightseeing, though. It’s the idea of actually becoming part of a community there. Not a tourist passing through, not a visitor with a return ticket, but someone who gets to live and teach and belong — even temporarily — in a prefecture that already has a piece of my heart. I’m a municipal JET, too, which means elementary and junior high schools are likely in my future. Real classrooms. Real kids. Real lesson plans that I will absolutely overthink before bedtime—every single day.

Of all the places I could have been placed, I got the one we already loved.

I don’t take that lightly for a single second.

It’s real. It’s actually, genuinely, completely real.

I’m going to need a minute. Please, grab a cup of coffee, and join me.

What Life Looks Like Right Now (Spoiler: It’s Mostly Paperwork)

If you’re imagining me serenely packing a beautifully curated suitcase while soft Japanese music plays in the background, I need to gently correct that image.

Life right now looks like paperwork. So much paperwork. Visa applications, forms, more forms, forms about the forms, waiting to hear from my Board of Education, and approximately one thousand browser tabs open at all times. I’ve been watching vlogs from previous JETs obsessively — absorbing every packing tip, every “I wish someone had told me,” every “here’s what your first week actually looks like” I can find.

My husband, in an act of love and bravery I don’t take lightly for a single second, is leaving his job to come with me. He’ll figure out what’s next from the other side of the world — new job, back to school, TBD — and the fact that he’s doing that, for us, for this adventure, means absolutely everything.

We are doing this together. All the way.

The Five Stages of Progression

Everyone knows the five stages of grief. I’ve been thinking there should be an equivalent for big life changes — not grief exactly, but something that lives right next to it. The five stages of progression. Of becoming.

Because that’s what this feels like right now.

Each day that passes feels like a tick toward departure — time moving slower and faster simultaneously, which sounds impossible and yet here we are. Spending time with my family feels that much more precious lately. Conversations that would have been ordinary six months ago now feel like something I want to hold onto a little longer.

I’ve started writing goodbye letters to my family. Not because I won’t see them again — I will, I absolutely will — but because I’m an extremely emotional person and I already know that when the actual moment comes, when I’m standing at that airport with my backpack and my husband and my whole life rearranged, I will not be able to get a single coherent word out. So I’m writing them down now, while the feelings are still manageable enough to form sentences.

It helps. Mostly. Sometimes I just cry anyway. Both things can be true.

The Hardest Goodbye (A Section I Almost Didn’t Write Because I’m Not Ready)

I have to tell you about my animals.

Three cats — Bitman, Onyx, and Khaleesi — and one border collie named Sadi, all varying in ages, all completely and blissfully unaware that their mom is about to move to Japan.

They’re staying with their grandparents. That’s the only way I can say it without completely losing it, so that’s how we’re saying it.

Bitman is judging me from across the room as I write this. Onyx is asleep and has no idea what’s coming. Khaleesi, true to her namesake, is unbothered and in charge. And Sadi — my sweet border collie — is currently doing what border collies do, which is existing at maximum energy and demanding attention I am very happily giving her while I still can.

Leaving them is the part that hits differently. You can write your family a letter. You can call. You can FaceTime at 2 a.m. when the time difference makes everything confusing. But animals don’t understand explanations. You just have to go, and trust that they feel loved, and try not to think about their little faces too hard on the days when you miss them.

Grandma and Grandpa will take the best care of them. I know this. 🐾

The Strange Beautiful Truth

Here’s what I keep coming back to in the middle of all the paperwork and the goodbye letters and the animal guilt and the ticking clock:

I have never been happier or more excited in my life.

Both things are true at once — the sadness and the joy, the grief and the anticipation, the heaviness of leaving and the absolute lightness of going. This is the first truly big thing my husband and I have ever done alone together. Just us. A new country, a new language, a new life built from scratch on the other side of the world.

Terrifying? Yes. Wonderful? Completely. Would I change a single thing? Not a chance.

Hiroshima, we’re on our way.

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, packing for departure 🌸

Currently accepting: packing tips, Hiroshima recommendations, and emotional support regarding leaving your pets behind. Drop them in the comments.

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From Purgatory to Placement: I’m Going to Japan

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

The Post I’ve Been Waiting to Write

Posted in: JET Journey

Photo by Sora Sagano

I got a call today.

I was waiting for an email. I refreshed my inbox approximately ten thousand times over the last two weeks. But it wasn’t an email. It was a call — from my consulate — and the moment my phone rang, I just knew. A sixth sense I’d been carrying around all morning, this quiet insistence that today was the day.

I answered.

They told me.

And the fastest yes I have ever said in my entire life came out of my mouth before they even finished the sentence.

The Hour Before I Had to Teach

Here’s the thing about getting life-changing news — it doesn’t wait for a convenient moment. I had exactly one hour before I had to walk into a classroom and teach.

I wanted to cry. I felt the tears right there, ready. But instead I smiled. The first real smile I’d felt in two weeks — the two weeks since alternate status had put me right back in purgatory, emptier and more uncertain than before. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding until I felt it release all at once.

I called my husband immediately.

“WAIT REALLY???” he said.

We were ecstatic. I ran downstairs and told my colleagues, who celebrated with me right there in the hallway. I called my family, who surprised me — no hesitation, no worry, just warmth and certainty. This is a chance and you’ve got to take it. Yes. Yes it is. Yes I do.

And then I walked into my classroom.

Teaching One Hour After Finding Out You’re Going to Japan

I felt awake for the first time in a while.

That’s the only way I can describe it. The alternate news had taken something out of me that I hadn’t fully admitted to myself — a kind of low-grade exhaustion that came from hoping hard while pretending to be fine. Walking into that classroom an hour after that phone call, I felt like myself again. Present. Alive. Ready.

I taught the whole class. I didn’t say a word about it until the very end.

And then I told them.

They clapped. They cheered. My students — my people — sat in that classroom and celebrated with me and I had to hold it together with everything I had because I was not going to cry in front of my class on the best day of my life.

I got home. I sat down.

And now the reality is hitting.

I’m Going to Japan.

Not someday. Not maybe. Not if the waitlist moves.

Japan. A Japanese classroom. A community I haven’t met yet. A language I’ve been chasing since an anime theme song woke me up in the middle of the night as a kid. A dream that started with an anime theme song and turned into a master’s degree, a JET application, an interview, an alternate status that broke my heart a little, and a phone call that put it back together.

I’m going.

I don’t know where yet. I don’t know what city, what school, what grade level, what my apartment will look like or what my commute will be or what I’ll eat for breakfast on my first morning there. I don’t know any of it yet and I am so wonderfully, completely, joyfully lost.

Lost in the best possible way. Again. Always.

This blog started as a way to document a journey I wasn’t sure would happen. Now it’s a record of everything that led to this moment — the waiting, the hoping, the alternate heartbreak, the sixth sense on a Tuesday morning, the fastest yes I’ve ever said.

If you’ve been following along, this one’s for you. And if you just found this blog today — hi, welcome, you picked a good day to show up.

Whatever comes next, I’ll be writing about it here.

We’re going to Japan—and I’m ready to be lost again.

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, waiting for my placement 🌸

The Email That Changed Everything

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

(And The One I’m Still Waiting For)

Posted in: JET Journey

Photo by Pema G. Lama on Unsplash

I got my JET results.

I’ve been sitting with how to write this post for a little while now, trying to find the right words for something that doesn’t fit neatly into either a celebration or a disappointment. Because the truth is, it’s neither. And it’s both. And it’s something I don’t think I had a word for until I lived it.

I got alternate.

What That Actually Means

For anyone unfamiliar with how the JET Program works, alternate isn’t a rejection. It’s not a yes either. It’s a maybe, sitting right in the middle, asking you to keep hoping without any promises.

Alternates are real candidates. People move up from alternate to accepted every single cycle. It happens. It’s not a consolation prize. It’s a genuine position on a very real waitlist for something I very genuinely want.

I know all of that. I knew it the moment I read the email.

And I was still really, really upset.

The Part Where I’m Honest

I cried. I questioned everything. I replayed the interview in my head, looking for the moment something went wrong. I asked myself why I wasn’t good enough, which is a question I already know isn’t fair or accurate but felt impossible not to ask anyway.

That’s the thing about alternate that’s almost harder than rejection — rejection gives you a closed door. Alternate gives you a door that’s slightly ajar, and you just have to stand there and wait and wonder and hope and try not to go crazy in the meantime.

It felt worse than rejection to me in some ways. At least rejection lets you grieve and move on. Alternate puts you right back in purgatory — except this time you know exactly what you’re waiting for and exactly how much you want it.

My family breathed a huge sigh of relief when I told them. Mine was heavy.

The Part Where Things Shifted

A day after the news, I went to a cultural festival with some friends. I didn’t go to process anything or find meaning in it — I just went because I needed to be somewhere that wasn’t my own head for a while.

And somewhere between the food and the music and the people I love, something quietly settled.

This is not a no. This is a maybe. And maybe is something.

I came home feeling something I can only describe as empty but hopeful — which sounds contradictory but feels exactly right. My heart is still heavy with wanting something I don’t have yet. But it’s not closed. It’s just waiting.

What I’m Doing In The Meantime

Here’s the thing about being lost in limbo — you can either sit down and wait or you can keep moving. I’m choosing to keep moving.

My PhD program is in order. My classes are ready to go. If the alternate email never comes, I have a path forward that I’m genuinely excited about — researching how the Japanese language shapes identity and expression in popular culture, which is really just a fancy way of saying my InuYasha spiral found its way into academia.

But I’m still checking my email. Every day. With that particular kind of hope that feels equal parts wonderful and exhausting.

Both futures are real. Both futures are good. My heart just has a preference.

So Here We Are. Again.

Lost in the best possible way, once again.

Because what else can you do but stay hopeful? What else can you do but keep learning the language, keep writing the blog, keep showing up for the life you’re building regardless of which door opens next?

That’s where I am right now. Classes ready. Heart open. Inbox monitored.

Waiting, again, but differently this time — with a little more wisdom and a little less panic and the same stubborn hope that got me here in the first place.

If you’re an alternate too — hi. I see you. Pull up a chair. We’re in this together, again. 🤞

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, hoping for an email 🌸

That Time We Planned a Trip to Japan in One Month

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

(A Cautionary Tale)

Part 1 of 3 | Posted in: Jet Journey

If you’ve been following along, you know Japan has been calling my name for a long time. This is the story of how my husband and I finally answered — impulsively, joyfully, and with absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

The Night We Did Something About It

There’s a version of this story where we planned carefully. Where we researched for months, compared flight prices, built a meticulous itinerary, and approached the whole thing like responsible adults.

That is not this story.

This story starts on a random night in March. I had just finished teaching my college classes for the semester. We had just gotten married. And somewhere between the relief of finishing my master’s degree and the newlywed energy of what do we do next, something in us just said — go.

We’d talked about Japan for years. Years. It was our dream destination in every sense — the culture, the architecture, the history, the food, the everything. It was the place we referenced constantly when watching J-Dramas and anime together, the place we’d say someday about so many times that someday started to feel like a word that meant never.

So one night we looked at each other and said: sure. Yeah. Let’s just look up the tickets.

An hour later they were booked. Non-refundable. Done.

And then the realization hit.

One Month. Zero Plan. Two Very Impulsive Newlyweds.

We had one month to plan a two and a half week trip to Japan with absolutely zero clue what we were doing.

Not six months. Not three. One single month to figure out flights, hotels, trains, itineraries, visas, packing, and approximately four thousand other things we hadn’t thought of yet.

Were we young and a little impulsive? Yes. Yes we were. Do I regret a single second of it? Absolutely not.

We spent the first three or four days just dreaming. Instagram first — scrolling through reels of cherry blossoms in full bloom, late-night street food stalls, and the chaos of Shibuya Crossing, saving everything, building a visual wishlist of what Japan could look like for us.

Instagram was for dreaming. Wanderlog and Klook were for the actual itinerary building. Google Maps for logistics. And more YouTube videos than I can count.

Eventually we landed on this: Tokyo, Nagoya, Kyoto, Nara, Uji, Hiroshima, and Osaka. Ambitious for one month of planning? Maybe. Perfect for two people who had been dreaming about this trip for years? Absolutely.

We also decided on backpacks instead of luggage — a decision I want to give us full credit for because it was genuinely smart. We knew we’d be jumping from city to city constantly and we wanted to be as mobile as possible. No rolling suitcases on cobblestone streets. No checking bags. Just us and our backpacks, ready to move.

We felt very prepared. We were not fully prepared. But we felt it.

Klook logo featuring the word 'klook' in orange with a colorful circular design.

The Morning Everything Almost Fell Apart

The day of our flight, I woke up to a storm.

Not a light drizzle. A storm. And a notification that our flight was delayed by twelve hours.

Twelve. Hours.

I want to paint you a picture of what twelve hours of delay does to a meticulously planned — okay, a one-month-scramble-planned — two and a half week itinerary. It sort of makes your mind melt.

That was the moment it hit me — we might actually mess this up before we even left.

We lost two full days on the trip before we’d even left the airport. Which meant scrambling to cancel hotels, rearrange bookings, and make some painful decisions about what had to go.

Hakone got cut entirely. We went from several days in Nagoya to one single day. My husband, who was already scared of flying and had been very bravely holding it together, sat in that airport for twelve hours watching me frantically reorganize spreadsheets on my laptop.

But here’s the thing about a twelve hour delay in an airport when you’re about to go to Japan for the first time — even that couldn’t touch the excitement. We were going. Finally, actually going. A storm and a scrambled itinerary and a very long airport day couldn’t change that.

And so eventually, finally, we got on the plane.

Next time: We land in Tokyo, attempt to navigate the train system with zero Japanese, and discover that we forgot to plan anywhere to sleep for the night.

Have you ever planned a trip completely spontaneously? Tell me about it in the comments — I need to know I’m not alone.

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, waiting on an email 🌸

My Japanese Is a Work in Progress

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

(A Generous Description)

If you’ve been following along, you know I’m currently waiting on JET results and doing my best to stay productive. This is what productive looks like.

Let’s get one thing straight before we go any further: I marked beginner on my JET application for Japanese proficiency.
Not intermediate. Not conversational. Beginner.

This was, I want to be clear, an act of radical honesty—not false modesty.

My Japanese is enthusiastic, earnest, and best used in very controlled circumstances. I can introduce myself. I can ask for directions. I can order food and specify whether I’d like it hot or cold, which feels like a genuine life skill. I can say please and thank you with confidence.

I can also hold a conversation—as long as it remains extremely, aggressively polite and does not wander too far from the topic of directions or beverages.

Beyond that? We’re in uncharted territory. Proceed with patience.

The Apps I Use (And Why I Use Them)

Here’s what my week actually looks like 🎌:

Duolingo — my daily baseline. It’s interactive, game-like, and somehow tricks my brain into practicing vocabulary without feeling like homework. Will it make me fluent? No. Does it keep Japanese present in my brain every single day? Absolutely.
No notes. Ten out of ten.

Rosetta Stone — full disclosure: I’ve seen this from the other side. I worked as an American English tutor for Rosetta Stone to get some practice using my TESOL minor, so when I say it’s effective, I mean it. I’ve watched it work.
Now I’m the student, and it is humbling in the best possible way.

~Rosetta Stone, if you’re reading this—hi, hello, I’m thankful.

Instagram Reels — yes, really. I follow accounts that quiz vocabulary and listening comprehension, and it works surprisingly well for keeping things fresh between study sessions. It also makes my algorithm deeply confused about who I am as a person, which I enjoy.

Renshuu — this one fills in the gaps. Vocabulary, kanji, grammar, listening—it’s all there. I use it throughout the week to figure out what’s actually sticking versus what I only think is sticking.

Minna no Nihongo — this is the real workout. If Duolingo is the warm-up, this is the part where I realize I have made bold choices with my life. It’s a classic textbook series used in language schools worldwide, and it doesn’t play around. I love it—but I am absolutely open to more textbook recommendations, so if you have one, please send it my way.

What Has Surprised Me About Learning Japanese

I knew Japanese would be challenging. I did not fully understand how challenging until I was already in it.

Three writing systems. Three.

Hiragana, katakana, and kanji—each with their own rules, logic, and a specific ability to make me stare at a page and reconsider my decisions. You don’t just learn to read Japanese. You learn to read it three different ways, often all at once, often in the same sentence.

And then there are the levels of politeness.

Japanese builds social hierarchy directly into grammar. The way you speak to a friend is fundamentally different from how you speak to a teacher, a stranger, or someone older than you. It’s not just vocabulary—it’s structure. It’s respect, embedded into the language itself.

It’s fascinating. It’s complex. It is, to put it gently, a lot. To put it honestly — I sat with a grammar chart for twenty minutes last Friday and then went to make a fun drink to keep myself going. What drink you may ask? Matcha, of course. We have to stick with the aesthetic.

But here’s the part that keeps me going—on the days when kanji flashcards make me consider lying face-down on the floor:

This complexity is exactly what drew me to Japanese in the first place.

The layers of meaning. The nuance. The way language carries culture inside it. This is what my PhD research will be built on—the way Japanese shapes characterization in popular culture, how emotion and personality live in specific word choices and sentence structures.

The deeper I go into the language, the richer that work becomes.

Also, for the record, I still watch and listen to InuYasha on repeat, nerding out in the most linguist-approved way. And if you’re wondering who’s responsible for this nerd-level obsession, it’s Dr. Taylor—major thanks for introducing me to linguistics and the joy of spirals.

Where I’m Going From Here

Beginner level. Enthusiastic beginner level.

Learning every day. Embarrassing myself regularly. Celebrating small wins loudly and without shame.

If you’re also learning Japanese—whether you’re a fellow JET applicant, a language enthusiast, or just someone who heard a theme song at 2am and made some life decisions—I’d love to hear what’s working for you.

Drop your favorite apps, textbooks, or study routines in the comments. I’m always looking for ways to make this slightly less chaotic.

One syllable at a time. 🌸


— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, waiting on an email ❤

Why I Applied to JET (And Why Japan)

~ Katherine Price ~ Leave a comment

If you’ve read my last post, you know I’m currently deep in the waiting phase of the JET Program. This is the story of how I got here in the first place — including the part where a song from an anime is entirely responsible for a major life decision. No notes. No regrets.

The Part Where This All Starts (At 2am, Obviously)

It started, as so many great decisions do, in the middle of the night.

I was half asleep when the TV flickered on and a sweeping, unmistakable melody filled the room — the opening theme to InuYasha. I had no idea what I was watching, no idea where it was from, and absolutely no business being awake at that hour — but I was glued. Completely, irreversibly, embarrassingly glued.

Despite being a pre-teen with school the very next day, I did not go back to sleep—shocker.

Instead, as many of us do, I spiraled. One anime became five. Five became ten. Ten became a genuine obsession with the language underneath all of it — the rhythm of Japanese, its elegance, the way every syllable seemed to carry meaning before I understood a single word.

I know what you’re thinking. Anime girl. And listen, you’re not wrong.

But I promise it got bigger than that. Eventually.

The Part Where I Learn and Grow

I took Japanese in college, which is where things got real fast.

Studying the language formally — actually sitting down and learning to read, write, and speak it — only made everything worse. Better. You know what I mean.

I made friends I still have, including one in Kyoto who has shaped my love for Japan more than she probably knows. I read everything I could find about the culture, the literature, the history. I went down more rabbit holes than I can count.

And somewhere between verb conjugations and kanji flashcards — around the time I realized I was doing extra study for fun — I had to admit this wasn’t a phase anymore. It had become something I couldn’t ignore even if I tried, and trust me, I didn’t try very hard.

The Part Where I Get On a Plane

So eventually, my husband and I did exactly that.

Two and a half weeks in Japan, wandering and getting wonderfully lost in a place we’d both been dreaming about.

Spoiler: it felt exactly like I always knew it would — but also nothing like I expected, which is honestly the most “Japan” answer possible.

I could write an entire post about that trip — and I will, don’t worry — but the moment I keep coming back to is a woman from Uji.

We were lost — but honestly, in the best possible way. We were trying to find Byōdō-in Temple and failing spectacularly when she stepped in, our words doing their very best across the gap between her English and my enthusiastic-but-chaotic Japanese. We laughed at the confusion, she pointed us in the right direction, and somewhere in those few minutes, something shifted. We were lost in translation, literally and completely — and yet we walked away with something that made us feel more human than we had all trip. Connection, simple and unexpected, from a stranger in Uji.

Such a small moment. Yet, it’s the one that stuck.

I came home from that trip feeling restless.

Unpacking our bags, talking through everything we’d seen — it just hit me.

I couldn’t give this up.

The Part Where I Do Something About It

Which brings us here.

I applied to the JET Program — which I talked about a bit in my first post — because it felt like the most direct path from where I am to where I want to be.

I made it through the application. I survived the interview. I am now firmly in the waiting stage, refreshing my email every four minutes like a completely normal and chill person.

If JET says yes, I’m packing my life into suitcases and going.

If life takes a different turn, I’ll be starting a PhD in Comparative Literature and Cultural Studies, researching how the Japanese language shapes identity and expression in popular culture — which is really just a fancy way of saying the InuYasha spiral never fully stopped and I decided to write a dissertation about it.

So… What Now?

Either way, I’ll be here — writing about all of it, one post at a time, from one Arkansas girl who heard a theme song in the middle of the night and never quite recovered.

If you’re on your own version of a language spiral — or just curious where this one goes — stick around. I have a feeling this is only the beginning.

Welcome to Lost in Translation. I’m really glad you’re here. 🌸

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, waiting on an email

Now We Wait: Life in JET Purgatory

~ Katherine Price ~ 2 Comments

If you’ve landed here, there’s a good chance you’re in the same boat I am — application submitted, interview done, and now absolutely nothing to do but wait.

Welcome to JET Purgatory.

For those who aren’t familiar, the JET Program (Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme) is a Japanese government-run program that brings people from around the world to Japan to work as Assistant Language Teachers, or ALTs, in Japanese schools. The application process is no joke — a detailed written application, letters of recommendation, a statement of purpose, and then an in-person interview. It’s a lot. And after all of that, they basically say “great, we’ll let you know” and send you on your way.

So here I am. Waiting.

What the waiting actually feels like

I won’t pretend I’m handling it gracefully. I’ve refreshed my email approximately 4,000 times. I’ve Googled “JET Program results 2026” more than I’d like to admit. I’ve had at least three conversations with myself that started with “okay but what if I don’t get in” and ended nowhere productive.

If you’re doing the same thing right now, hi. I see you. Let’s be anxious together.

The interview itself felt — I think? — okay. But that’s the thing about JET interviews. You walk out either feeling like you absolutely nailed it or completely second-guessing every answer you gave. Sometimes both, on the same walk to your car.

What I’m doing while I wait

Sitting still isn’t really an option for me, so I’ve been trying to channel the nervous energy somewhere useful.

First, I started this blog. If I’m going to obsessively think about Japan anyway, I might as well write about it. Lost in Translation is going to be my space to document all of it — the application, the (hopefully!) acceptance, the preparation, the arrival, the teaching, the language learning, the culture shock, all of it. Whether I end up in a big city or a tiny rural town, I want to write it down.

Second, I started — okay, re-started — learning Japanese. My current level is best described as enthusiastic but lost. I can say arigatou gozaimasu and order ramen. That’s about it. I’ve got a long way to go, and I’m kind of excited about that.

Third, I’ve been reading everything I can find about life as an ALT — blogs, Reddit threads, YouTube videos. If you have recommendations, drop them in the comments. I’m collecting them all.

What happens next

JET Program results are typically announced in the spring. When that email comes — whatever it says — I’ll be writing about it here. If it’s a yes, we celebrate and then immediately panic about moving to Japan. If it’s a no or an alternate, I’ll write about that too, honestly.

For now though? We wait.

If you’re also waiting on JET results, leave a comment below. It helps to know there are other people hitting refresh on their inboxes at 2am. And if you’ve already been through this — what did you do to survive the wait? I need tips.

Fingers crossed. 🤞

— Katherine, somewhere in Arkansas, waiting on an email.