New Year's Day, 2001

Had toilet paper, but ended up washing dishes for two hours this morning. Damn. I knew something was going to come up.

January 10, 2001

Finally returned to school yesterday and have already found myself floundering in the terrible seas of boredom. Classes begin next week, which means that I have absolutely nothing work-related to do - leaving me plenty of time to stew in my own juices and think all sorts of strange and confusing things. This can't be good for me.

As far as the dawn of the New Millennium is concerned, it feels just like the eve of the Old Millennium, only colder. Spent most of my days so far shuffling around the house cleaning odds & ends or trying to work on the story I'm writing in an effort to not think about things that I shouldn't think about. Unfortunately, trying not to think about polar bears... well, you know. The bear in question is a terribly perplexing creature - there have been times when I have simply wanted to pack it all in and quit, others when I felt that this bear is an unnecessary burden in my life and even others when I have let my anger and bitterness get the better of me. Spending the holidays in Japan has been a mixed blessing, methinks. My heretofore unmentioned goal of learning to love myself and to cherish the many solitary hours of life here has proved more difficult to achieve than I had thought. Even with no one around, distractions have been plentiful (and costly, come to think of it) and I have not found the solace and respite I was looking for.

Regardless, I am hale and healthy; I am not unhappy most of the time, only thoughtful and introspective of late. Today is particularly trying on account of my only having had three hours of sleep last night - a quiet evening at home somehow blossomed into a series of random happenings and strange events that kept me up far far too late. I'm still trying to figure most of them out for myself, to be honest. To use a very old and very tired cliche: I need a vacation after my vacation. Thankfully, this evening promises to be one of sumo and football - nestled underneath my trusty kotatsu and wrapped up in several blankets I'm hoping the Muses will be able to zero in on me and get some of the creative juices flowing. Should the waters begin to rise, my next hope is that the damn polar bear doesn't start sandbagging itself in.

Am I being vague? Or just simply pretentious? Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm too tired to filter my thoughts at the moment and I definitely don't have the energy to go back over and edit this puppy, so you'll just have to bear with me. No pun intended. Speaking of puns, I came across my first '2001: A Space Odyssey' gag today. Ten days in, that's not too bad. Oh, seeing as I'm in non-sequitur mode, I am also pleased to report that having dyed my hair red for the holidays did not generate a single Ronald McDonald joke - can you believe it? The world is an unfathomable place.

January 12, 2001

Driving blindly through the 3AM fog - wired on caffeine and my mind racing faster than the steel horses underneath the hood; feeling careless and carefree as I light another cigarette, close my eyes and draw the acrid smoke into my lungs; half-hoping for, half-fearing the bone-numbing crush of car upon car or car upon tree - and then I catch myself. Eyes pop back open, brakes are applied and I climb from the car into the night; standing in the swirling mist as I piss out the daily toxins and wonder how the hell I got to be here.

Standing there, still thinking about polar bears and the great void that lies waiting in July, I realize that I don't care anymore. I realize I'm tired of thinking, tired of worrying, tired of wanting to know - the fog curls around my legs and sweeps across the empty road, taking with it my fear and my anxiety; for one moment, I know calm. And it nearly crushes me, because I know that it's already gone.

Which brings me back to here: sitting in front of the screen babbling incoherently. Goddammit. No, I'm not suicidal; no, I'm not depressed; no, I'm not just waxing poetical and jerking off on the screen. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just sitting here killing time before I can go home and kill more time. This is ridiculous. In the 4 hours I've been here, I've read the paper, gone out for coffee, read a book, studied Japanese (learned 10 new kanji today), hit 7 out of 20 3-pointers and still had time to think about Kaori. My brain is working overtime, and for no good reason. Shit.

January 15, 2001

Woke up late this morning.

Water pipes are frozen.

Failed the Japanese Proficiency test.

Damn.

January 18, 2001

"If Heaven is about to entrust an important mission to a man, it begins by filling his heart with bitterness and by confusing his powers of perception and overturning his plans. It forces him to exert his bone and muscle. It forces him to endure hunger and all manner of sufferings. When the man emerges triumphantly over all these trials and tribulations, he is then capable of accomplishing what would have been impossible for him to do before."

- Mencius

What is it about bad days that makes you forget all the good ones? Lately I've had the sensation that my life has been on hold - kind of like sitting at a red light waiting patiently for it to change. Sure, I could be impatient and blow right on through, but only at the risk of having a serious accident. However, I'm also aware that there are traffic lights out there which take an inordinate amount of time to turn green. What with recent developments with Kaori, the fast-approaching end of my tenure as a JET, the lack of direction to follow said end and the recent cold snap in the weather, I have the feeling that I caught an amber light just after it turned red and that I'm going to be at this junction for a while.

So I'm sitting here, listening to music and using the opportunity to light a cigarette - checking out the other cars in the rear view mirror, I also get to focus on all the places that I've been. Can't back up, can't go forward; waiting here with a song on my lips and smoke in my eyes I'm stuck in this horrible moment of now - the terrible truth of the present that not only I but everyone tries so hard to escape from; the mundane reality of our daily existence and the all-too frequent demise of our dreams. I've lived a life of distractions; be they friends or movies or poems or love or whatever - I find it hard to sit quietly at home (and not just because my house is currently -5 degrees), spending time getting to know myself. Does that seem strange? That I should feel the need to know myself - as if I don't already know who and what I am? It doesn't seem that strange to me, I have no idea.

Changing metaphors for a moment - and borrowing a bit from Utah Phillips - let's say that life, like time, is an enormous long river: and if I'm standing in it, it's going to flow regardless of my presence or my actions - I can follow it to its end and reach the ocean, or I can follow it to its source and find the sky. Either way, I'm left facing an endless expanse of blue. If I choose the uphill battle and fight my way up to the river source, what good does that do me? I can't touch the sky, can't pack it up and take it home with me. Should I choose the other route - to be borne along by the river, gently making my way down to the ocean - will I be making anything of my life? To let myself be carried along, come what may is definitely a romantic notion, but again, what good does it do me? I can chase after the future all I want to, it's always going to turn into today.

"It's the fabulous castle of Now.
You can walk in and wander about,
But it's so very thin,
Once you are, then you've been -
And as soon as you're in, you're out."

- Shel Silverstein, "The Castle"

Today, with the current pulling gently at my legs, I realize that there is no real need to go anywhere: journeys don't necessarily mean traveling; green lights don't necessarily mean go forward. Of course, waxing philosophical doesn't solve any problems either - I think it just makes them easier to live with. I can sit here and think things over until I'm blue in the face, but that doesn't mean my troubles will dissipate like spit in a river or that a great opportunity will fall Miltonian-style from the sky. However, sitting here spitting out my somewhat random thoughts and ideas does allow me to convince myself that things aren't so bad after all.

What is it about bad days that makes you forget all the good ones? The same thing about good days that makes you forget all the bad ones.

Advice on not just relocating but rather obliterating this damn banner is appreciated.

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