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I’m always thinking of things I want to write about in my lj, but I keep forgetting what I’ve written and what I haven’t, so I’m never sure if I’ve talked about them or not. I always have the same thoughts over and over again, and every time I do, I think, “Hey, I should write this down next time,” but sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, so it’s hard to tell. Since none of it is new to me, I don’t have the ability to sort out old and new stuff like someone who’s been reading my stuff for the first time would. It’s like when I’m really tired and my dreams start to merge with reality and I can’t figure out what’s a memory and what I’ve imagined or dreamt.

My memory has gotten so bad it’s starting to scare me. It’s like I’m in a semi-dream state all the time. I go through the same daily motions, but my mind is circling, adding new thoughts, repeating old ones, never noticing what’s going on around me. My grandfather was about 70 when he started to lose his memory, the result of hundreds of tiny strokes. I’m nearing 24 and I can’t remember anything. The only reason I know what I had for dinner last night is because I eat the same thing. Things start to fade in my mind’s eye and it’s frightening. Give it a few hours and it’ll be completely erased.

Like Kabutayama was for most of the day, which was wicked-cool-looking. It was embedded in a flower of rain. Like a drop-cloth of cloud had fallen before it. It looked…quiet. And it was just like all those sumi-e paintings (yes, that was slightly redundant). Sometimes it would lean out of the mist while the mountains behind it were covered, and times it would fall back while the other mountains came forth.

I can open a bottle of Coke one-handed. I can cap and uncap a pen one-handed. I can get off one-handed. I can clap one-handed. I am a veritable one-handed goddess. And I can do each of those with either hand. I have other talents, too, but I can’t think of any at the moment. Why, you might ask? Because I have forgotten them. (Again with the circles in thought and logic.)

God made rain so we could bike through it and revel in its flavor. The earthy smell of it, the moisture, the coolness. The polluted water that history tells me is clean splashing past my face as I squint beyond it and try not to crash.

I finished my taxes today and mailed them off (made it to the post office just before they closed and the man was so nice to me, in spite of the fact that it was 1) near closing time and 2) I had had a hissy-fit in front of that particular post office the other day. I don’t care about taxes, but something about having finished them and sent them far away from me left me feeling happy. It wasn’t obvious at first, but as I stepped out of the post office and opened my umbrella and got lost in the crowd, a butterfly appeared under my umbrella and he fluttered around my head and shoulders for a while. He flew with me for a bit, then went on his way. He was a lovely pattern of black, white, and gray that looked like a flower-print dress. I had felt heavy and tired all day, but after seeing that butterfly and getting rid of those darn tax forms, I felt lighter. I bought another Coke (a Diet Coke, not a C2—I had a C2 with lunch) at the 7 Eleven on the way back to school and felt good. I shirked away from the water falling all around me (I nearly drowned when I was about 4 years old and haven’t liked water since), but there was something cozy about being safe and dry and almost warm under my umbrella. When I got back to school, I put away my umbrella (a cheap, translucent white thing that now has grease-stains on it from the way I carried it on my bike when I came to school this morning) and ran up all the stairs. All 6 flights. I felt like I could keep running up and up forever. I was almost sad when I reached the top stair. It was then that I realized that all the little good things (and a lot of caffeine) today had made me happy. I am happy right now. It’s illogical (I still have plenty of work to do), it’s insane, but it’s no less true. In spite of all the bad things, it’s true.

Bad things: yesterday, on my way to school, I saw Ito (who somehow managed to pass on into his second year—he’s a junior now) with his shirt off and his pants low enough that I could see the top portion (a good 4-5 inches) of his light blue boxers harassing a group of girls on their way to school. As soon as he saw me, he pulled back (he had been waving his arms and yelling stuff) and started to head on to school. His friends were a little ways ahead of him, and one of them said, “Oh, Shelton saw you,” (あぁ、シェルトンが見た) which was SO rude. It all happened really fast, since I was biking past them and I bike really quickly, but I yelled back at them, “What the hell are you doing?” (何やってんや?) They just laughed. They are the reason that teachers’ meeting went so long. They are the reason Mr. What’sHisFace got so angry at the other teachers. They are the reason parents have been apologizing to teachers because their children got tracked into the same class as these losers and they feel that it’s a slight upon themselves, their families, and the school that their children have been classed with these pricks.

So, anyway, I told the school about what happened, since it amounts to sexual harassment, and I refuse to let that go unpunished. He was harassing girls half-naked. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, and I half-wonder if his pants had been down before he saw me, but it doesn’t matter. セクハラはセクハラだぞ。 Of course, I expressed concern that (since many students know where I live) he might try to attack me or my apartment (vandalism, theft, something) if he thought that I was the one who turned him in, so the guy in charge of Ito’s class contacted the school in question and asked for students to come forth. That way, they can claim that the school made a complaint and that I had nothing to do with it. We’ll see how it works (but I’m still a little uneasy). I hate how EVERYBODY knows where I live. I’m always half-afraid that people might come and check up on me, just ‘cuz they can. They could just drive past my place and see if the lights are on in my apartment, which bothers me. I have no privacy (especially since my apartment is the most easily visible of all the apartments). You can even see it from the main bus route, so even a teacher taking the bus could check without having to actually go near my place. It feels like an invasion of privacy, in a way.

I trimmed all my fingernails and now I’m completely debilitated. It’s like I chopped off my hands or something. I can’t scratch my billions of bug bites (which is probably a good thing), I can’t pick up stuff, and I had the damnest time cleaning the mouse on this computer today (it’s the computer at school, but the mouse probably hasn’t been cleaned since the computer was purchased, and it was jumping all over the screen and driving me crazy, so I finally broke down and cleaned the darn thing m’self).

I dreamed last night that my travel agent couldn’t secure a low fat meal for me on my flight home for summer vacation, so she sent me this thing in the mail that was low-fat/low-cal hot dog-like things that you could wrap in cheese-like bread (it was kind of like “diet Lunchables from hell”). So that was weird. I was supposed to bring them on the plane and eat that instead of the supplied meal. The other dream I remember took place at work. I had been scratching my forehead (as I am prone to do when grading or when stressed out), picking at my acne. Suddenly it was the end of the school day and Carolyn came into the office and said, “Uh, Abby, your forehead is covered in dried blood.” Turns out I had picked a scab and it had bled all over my face without me realizing it. So I had to sneak off to the bathroom and wash off my bloody face.

Oooh, continuation of what happened two (?) weekends ago. So I talked with Marcus-sensei and with Dr. Copeland and the peeps from my class. (Horror of horrors: Chris Campbell was there. Ew. He trapped me for a while and tried talking to me; miraculously enough, he wasn’t an asshole at all. It was kind of funny, though, to hear him talk about this other student who’s a real jerk, this guy who’s living with Nina’s boyfriend. He kept saying, “Yeah, this guy has no sense of humility and is always arguing with the teacher, saying that he’s right and the teacher’s wrong. I can’t believe he would argue with the teacher in the middle of class like that. It’s so embarrassing. And he’s always going on about how great he is and how smart he is…..” I thought that was riotously funny, coming from Chris. Talk about the pot and the kettle. Good grief.) Eventually Jennifer, Jessi and Jess (hmm…wonder why my name doesn’t start with a “J”?) rescued me. I said good-bye to Marcus-sensei and Dr. Copeland and told Brett to email my cellphone (which he never did), and J, J, J and I hopped a cab to downtown Kyoto where we went to Montebello’s (sp?)! Everything \300! Yay! I had a gin fizz and a salty dog (I LOVE salty dogs). I had another drink, but it wasn’t that exceptional, apparently (me and my faulty memory again!) We talked about all kinds of things and it was great. I told them about my trip to New Zealand (everybody was so jealous), and Jennifer and Jessi and I might be going to Hong Kong in October, just ‘cuz we can. Actually, I probably won’t be able to go ‘cuz I work every day of my life, but it’s a nice thought, if nothing else.
They were all staying in Kyoto that night, but I had a train to catch, so I left around 10:30 (later than I wanted to). I speed-walked down to Hankyu Kawaramachi (stopping along the way to buy water so I’d have change for the train). I caught all the trains I needed and got back to Nishi-Kita with time to spare. It was about 11:45. I sat down on the train headed for my station and saw a white guy go past the train. It was Jeff. He came and sat down next to me and we talked for a bit. He had come back from the Pig & Whistle and had been making fun of drunk Japanese people there (he claimed it was his first time back since we had been there with Ashley and Michelle). We talked about cricket and soccer and baseball (he said baseball was invented because Americans couldn’t understand cricket, which sounds reasonable enough). Parted ways at Kotoen Station (he lives on the other side of the tracks, heh heh). ^_^

Well, it’s late, I have to pee, and I want to go home.



Jun. 11th, 2004 09:57 am (UTC)
I'm very jealous. Yes, I am. That was the one place I had wanted to go to while I was in Kyoto, but I was too far away to go to it, and we had a curfew. I'm so glad you had fun.
My other random comments:
One-handedness is cool. Rock on.
Your description of the rain is beautiful. I'm glad you were happy. :-)
Getting rid of tax forms is great.

Have a good week!


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