2/25: Today was the kind of day where I do not doubt the existence of the phenomenon known in this country as “mikkayoi.” Roughly translated this means “third day drunkenness,” or perhaps, “second day hangover.” It was determined the first time massive amounts of alcohol touched my lips (my 21st birthday, of course…) that, unlike about half of East Asians, my acetaldehyde-breaking-down enzyme is fully functional. This allows me to do things like have more than two drinks before passing out and avoid “Asian flush.” Since then I have, from time-to-time, thanked my lucky Irish stars (genes?) for preventing my death the night before. Yesterday morning was one of those times. Although I’m sure Mos Burger played a role, too. At any rate, I spent all of yesterday recovering from the twin evils of hangover and seasickness (I was in Kagoshima for the weekend attending a teacher’s wedding and came back on the ferry yesterday) and I’m still feeling it today. Even as I sit here, I’m about to face-plant into the desk a la baby-me who couldn’t get through a meal without falling asleep in my food.
2/26: Today was the kind of day where I don’t recognize my own body, am convinced that it isn’t mine. When I feel like this I get kind of panicky – like I desperately need to escape my skin and when I can’t figure out a good way to do this, I settle into a strange “shikata ga nai” kind of attitude. I begin to understand myself as being distinctly separate from this breathing, sipping-tea-from-a-tea-cup, watching-the-world-through-the-window thing. Separate, but obliged to tolerate it for the time being. This is when reality begins to feel less real. When there’s no union between body and self, I cease to trust my own perceptions, which leads to my wondering if any of this really exists. It all seems so absurd, so like it doesn’t have anything to do with me.
2/27: Today was the kind of day where it was so windy that when you’re walking into the wind you can’t get a breath. For some reason this tremendously irked me. I feel like I’ve been fairly tolerant of all the bad weather here (and sans the refuge of heated buildings to make it more bearable), but really, enough is enough.
Today was also the kind of day where I wondered exactly how much more time I had before my metamorphosis into my mother was complete. On Monday I decided that my house was gross. Today I decided to do something about it. As I was scrubbing my bathtub, I reflected that my house wasn’t actually “gross.” It was just a little dusty and needed some straightening up. This moment of calm was followed by one of anxiety – is my dirty most other people’s clean? Oh dear God, am I turning into Mom?
*In all fairness to both of us, if Mom had decided on Monday that her house was gross, she would have dealt with it then. Of course, Mom would never have let her house get gross in the first place.*
2/28: Today was the kind of day where I’m late even when I’m early. This happens to me way more often than it should and way way more often than most of the other people in my life would like it to. I start out with plenty of time before I need to leave for somewhere, but by the time I finish squeezing things in, I’m late. This morning, for example, I had 30 minutes instead of the usual 20 to wash my face, brush my teeth and get dressed, so I decided to treat myself to a mango face peel treatment and ended leaving my house two minutes later than I usually do. I’m still baffled as to how the face peel took so long (two minutes, btw, makes a big difference when you’re walking).
2/29: Today was the kind of day where weird shit happens. Maybe it’s the leap year, but this morning E left his work bag (can I call it a briefcase? Or is that too grown-up sounding?) at my house and I got to work only to discover that I had a flat tire. Actually, typically (stereotypically?) two men pointed out to me that I had a flat. I also momentarily forgot my boss’s name and his title and so instead of finishing my story to my supervisor about who had noticed it, I walked out of the office shaking my head and muttering. Then the guy who drives me around took me to Nokan Elementary School instead of Masuda – for some reason he had written down Nokan on his schedule – and so we had to race across town (and by town, I mean through sugarcane fields, which all look alike to me, which is why I didn’t even notice we were going the wrong way to begin with) and I arrived two minutes before class started, much to the 1st grade teacher’s relief. Of course, we might have made it to Masuda three minutes before class started if we hadn’t almost run into a cow that was making its escape from a nearby farm. Ever the pragmatist, the guy who drives me around pointed out that that was about 500,000 yen (~$5,000) running down the road (it was only a little cow). Later when he picked me up, TGWDMA informed me that on his way back to the office that morning he’d seen about five people looking for the cow and when we passed the farm we saw that it was back in the pen.