Day 205: Saturday, October 1, 2011

I finally talked to a different girl at party- a friend of a friend who I had always thought was cute. I could feel my heart pounding, which I hadn’t felt in a while, and I was sure I made a fool of myself then by cracking bad jokes in front of her to make up for my nervousness.

Afterwards my friends headed over to an izakaya (basically a Japanese tapas bar), but even though I was hungry, I had to bail out because I was broke. While riding my bike home, I thought about liking this new girl and the new possibilities it presented but, like always, in the end my thoughts drifted back to the girl who I somehow can't get over.

When I got home, I found the woman who I had just met at the party on Facebook and did a friend request. Afterwards I discovered I got another message from a mysterious stranger who had written me earlier that day. All that her original message said was, “We have the same birthday…” in Japanese. That's it. She didn't introduce herself or even say hello. After I checked her page then, I noticed that we actually did have the exact same birthday, which was April 14, 1981. It also said that she did flower arrangements for a living, so when I wrote her back to be polite, I sent her a photo of flowers that I had taken. This evening her second message to me said, “Thank you. Your picture made me happy. I was feeling down today.” I took a moment to let the strangeness of the whole situation sink in and then wrote back, "Me, too."

Otsubo San

Otsubo san, who is the unofficial groundskeeper of the apartment complex across from Akimoto San, has been feeding Willy everyday over the summer. He is also Akimoto San’s best friend… or at least I think they are best friends because I always see them together talking about cats.

Since the weather has been getting colder, Willy has returned back home, which I think leaves Otsubo san feeling lonely. Last week, as an excuse to check on her, he took a dorky boy named Toa, who lives on the 2nd floor of his complex, over to our house (Otsubo san knows where we live because one night he had followed Willy). Since then Toa has been coming by after school with his friend because they are bored, which was funny for my roommates and I at first, but now, after three straight days, it's just plain annoying.

Yuki (left) and Toa (right)

Day 208: Tuesday, October 4, 2011

This morning I got up early because I had a lot of things to take care of before my flight to America for my sister’s wedding. I checked my email and discovered that I got a letter from Guggenheim. It said that I had passed the first round of their fellowship’s application process, and that they would like me to send in samples of my proposed project Talking Barnacles in review for funding. I was ecstatic- much more so then when I got the news from the Canon competition because the fellowship had always been the ultimate goal of my master plan this past year.

Since I was going to meet the girl that I like at her place later in the morning to talk business, I decided to skip my usual tea and two slices, and celebrate by getting some pastries for the both of us from the fancy neighborhood bakery. On my bike, I was feeling incredibly high because everything that I had planned was falling into place… except for one last thing, and with this new confidence that I was feeling, I decided that I was finally going to ask her where I stood. At that moment, because my head was growing bigger and bigger as well as more delusional from this morning’s news, I wanted to convince her that I would be the most famous photographer in the world one day even though I know she doesn’t care about superficial things like that- actually neither do I usually.

Afterwards, I went to her place. We ate breakfast and talked business in a rush since she had to leave for work. I told her about Guggenheim, but unfortunately the possibility of me receiving a lot of money next year didn’t seem to have any affect except for her being happy for me. Since she was in a hurry, it didn’t feel right to ask her the question that had been on my mind for the past four months. While I walked her to the station, I asked her a different question, which was that if we did end up winning the Canon competition next month and would take that trip to Taiwan together like we had planned, how would she convince her boyfriend to let her go with me? She laughed and replied that she had already told him about our plans, and that he was cool about it. I was stunned and the words, "He is a good guy," came out of my mouth and she agreed.

We said goodbye at the station and that we would see each other in a week after I got back from America. When I returned home, I decided to finally ask her because I was sick of not knowing. I got out my cell phone and was originally going to write in Japanese but then changed my mind and did it in English. I wrote:

#@!#@, do you really love your boyfriend?

I pushed the send button, and it was done. It was too late to take it back. To kill time, I checked my email and there was a comment on this morning’s post about meeting Hayato’s parents on Talking Barnacles. The comment said, “I wonder if they know you are famous…” The way he phrased it, I didn’t know how to answer because a lot of weight was placed on the word famous. When I think of fame, I naturally think of money... as well as girls. While I was about to respond, my phone vibrated. She texted me back. I paused the music that I was listening to, pushed the main button of my phone to enter the inbox, then pushed the button again to open her text, and then waited for one very long second for what I already knew would appear on screen, but didn't want to accept until I finally had seen it, which was:

はい。
(Yes.)　

For two minutes, I sat on the floor staring at dust. 15 minutes later, I was on the computer again keeping busy when Willy came up, which was a pleasant surprise especially since we’ve been bonding a lot lately after her return home. I watched her crawl under my desk expecting her to plop down and relax next to my feet, but instead she began to let out a gush of pee everywhere, which just added to my misery.



On the way to the airport, I kept thinking of the word famous, which the guy had written on my blog… which then led me to think about the other essential dilemma in everyone’s life besides love- money. If I were to get the fellowship, I would get the money, but that would be sometime after April of next year. My original plan about T.B. was to do it until March 11th – the anniversary of the quake as well as the birth of T.B.- which would be a nice tidy ending. If I got the money that would mean I would have to keep going on with the blog probably for another year, which worries me because since the moment of its inception, I have been constantly filled with the fear about how long can I actually keep this up day after day and when will I finally burn out like I did with My Little Dead Dick.

At the shitty airport bookstore, the only decent thing there was to read was Haruki Murakami’s book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Even though I was still a little bitter at Murakami for not drinking the apple juice I had given him a while back, I ended up buying it because I wanted to have something on the plane to take my mind off of things.

During the beginning of the flight, I switched between writing this entry, reading, and then working on my speech/presentation for the final round of the Canon New Cosmos competition next month. And then I let my mind rest, watching the film, Alien, which I had actually never seen before, but because it was rather old and slow paced compared to TV shows and movies these days, I quickly fell asleep. Afterwards I watched a recent blockbuster film, which kept my attention but not necessarily my interest, and then I went back to reading Murakami’s book where, to my surprise, I found there were many similarities to my own life and to what I have been thinking about all day:

There’s no such thing as winning or losing. Maybe numbers of copies sold, awards won, and critics’ praise serve as outward standards of accomplishment in literature, but none of them really matter…

She doesn’t like me. It doesn’t matter what I do or what kind of person I become. I know it won’t change anything. In the end, I would love to say that these past few months I did everything, especially Talking Barnacles, for her, but deep down I know that would be a lie. Murakami explains it best when he says:

... Day after day… bit by bit… I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day.

アメリカ
(America)

To my older sister Jenn,

I still remember what you said to me once years before about how I probably looked down on your so-called “boring” life since I have always been kind of roaming around and doing art, but to be honest, I roamed because I had never made a life anywhere and never was satisfied with what I had, which I am learning is a bad habit and that if I don’t change my ways, I will definitely never be happy. Fortunately, I think you have already accomplished this now. It’s ironic how you mentioned that I probably have always looked down on you because it’s actually quite the opposite. For most of my life I have always strived to be like you because you were always the first one to do- as well as to discover- everything, so by the time you introduced me to whatever it was that you were into back then, you were already an expert while I was just stumbling to begin. And now, years later, I look to you again- on this matter about love- hoping to follow in your footsteps one day.

There will always be more unhappiness then there will be happiness so the days when you can have the latter- like today, tomorrow, and the next- enjoy it. I know you had some hard times in the past and I know there will be a few more down the road, but now at least you have a partner – a handsome, moustached one- who will face them with you whenever they appear. You are one lucky bastard; and like what you said to me at the big turning point in my life as well, I am proud of you too.

Love,
Your little shitty brother,
P

Family Portrait (Left to Right: Zap, Jenn, Rosie, Ajax, and Angus)

Willy Hunt

Day 216: Wednesday, October 12, 2011

After a long flight as well as an overall long mentally demanding trip hanging with the folks, I finally made it home. Haruki Murakami said in his book that “…private time, is important to help me keep [one’s] mental well-being.” I couldn’t have agreed more. It might be a little hard to believe, but I am a very private person. I need my own space and I need my own time for a good portion of the day, so after about a week of being cooped up with my parents without a moment to myself, I almost lost it. When times got bad, I tried to remind myself that it was only 5-10 days out of a year, which doesn’t seem so bad, but in reality it was, which made me feel super guilty and wonder why I couldn’t be a more patient and tolerant son.

When I entered the front door, I noticed a letter from Hannah, our house sitter (...Yuki and Ian had gone away on vacation as well). It said that Willy had been good and hadn’t peed anywhere, but she had to separate our fishes into two tanks because Mikan, our goldfish, had been raping the other fish. When I checked to see how they were doing, Fluffy, our black fish, looked rather sad and lonely in her mini tank, which didn’t even have a motor to produce air. I remembered how Fluffy and Mikan used to be best friends, so I just assumed that Hannah didn’t know much about fish and put her back in the big tank with the others. Afterwards I went out and got some Indian food, bought some toast for breakfast at the convenience store, came home, cleaned the tub, responded to some emails in the kitchen while listening to Morita Doji and Bill Callahan, went upstairs to get some clean clothes, checked the office to see if Willy had peed under my desk again and of course she did and it smelt terrible because it had been there for days, which really bummed me out; cleaned that up, took a hot bath, talked to the girl, who I like, for thirty minutes and was relieved to find out that things weren’t weird between us; went to the kitchen and noticed Fluffy was hiding behind a rock, which was unusual, and then realized that it was because Mikan, who is four times bigger, was still bullying her; refilled the mini tank with water, which I had emptied earlier; tried to put Fluffy back in but since I couldn’t catch her, I gave up with the reason that she had to learn to fight her own battles; washed my hands, watched some porn in bed, but the videos kept being cut off after two minutes with a pop-up sign asking me to pay membership, so I watched something on Youtube instead, which was boring, but helped me complete my mission, and then finally went to bed.

This morning, I got up at six feeling great with a clear head. After being inspired by Murakami’s book about running all last week, I was excited to finally go rock climbing at the gym again. I went downstairs. The fish seemed to be doing alright. While I was making toast, Willy came in through the kitchen window for breakfast, and to my surprise, even though after last night’s fiasco, I was still glad to see her because I realized something then, which maybe I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been away. Even with all these little annoying troubles like rapist goldfish, a cat that pees everywhere, unrequited love, and porn videos that always stopped when they were getting good, this was still the world that I had created and chosen. I was no longer back in America, stuck at my parents expensive suburban home feeling shabby and worthless with my shabby, worthless clothes or at my sister’s place with her hip friends, whom of no fault of their own had always made me feel insecure since forever. I was now back home, which is definitely not perfect as well as not for everyone, but I fit in well and have a place here. My cat needs me, my fish need me, and my tea and two slices need me because I am the glue that holds these random things together as well as they are the glue that keeps me together.

To sum it up, I guess I am not so adventurous like I once was.

Yogurt

The Notebook

Day 220: Sunday, October 16, 2011

I’m still suffering from jet lag. This morning I got up, edited photos for work, had my tea and two slices, checked my email, took a shower as well as did the daily Barnacle, and by the time I was all done with everything, it was still only 8:00 a.m. I got up, stretched, and then decided to go to the bakery for my second breakfast as well as an excuse to get out of the house. While I got dressed in my room, I saw the black leather notebook that I had bought in America last weekend staring at me…

Months back, when I was at the Tokyu Hands store, I saw a notebook there, which would have been perfect for doing my diary, but it was way too expensive. I promised myself to get one if I made it to the Top 5 of the Canon competition as a reward. Well when I eventually did make it to the Top 5 and found myself at Tokyu Hands again in front of the notebook aisle, I still couldn’t bring myself to spend 2,000 yen on a stupid notebook, so I put it back. I told myself that I would get it if I won the Grand Prix award instead, but I knew right then and there that I would probably have to use most of the prize money to pay bills, debts and rent, so I doubted I would actually ever buy it.

When I was in America for my sister’s wedding last week, I was at a bookstore, which had a special rack dedicated to that brand of notebooks… and there it was- my little black leather notebook and for half the price. After a few minutes of holding it in my hands and trying it out in my back pocket and then holding it in my hands again, I ended up buying it even though I was still borrowing money this month to live. The night after I got back to Japan, I changed my mind and decided to give it to the girl that I like as a gift because even though I got rejected by her recently, she still worked so hard these past few months as my designer, and in the end, I wasn't quite ready to give up. I unwrapped it and painted her a picture inside. When I was done, I was quite proud and wanted to give it to her right away, but she said she was busy that night and since then it has been lying on my desk.

Today when I saw the notebook there in the gray morning light, I suddenly felt super depressed like I was staring at my own reflection in a mirror and seeing how pathetic my situation actually was. I got on my bike in the worst mood ever, but then as my mind wandered while my feet did all the work, I eventually came to realize that like the ups, even the downs of being in love were also kind of nice.

In the end, I kept the black leather notebook because I assumed it would be awkward for her to accept it after she had read this.