November 4th through November 9th in 2015

Wednesday the 4th, I hurried home, then went to Plasse and 7-11 for food. I ate, quickly, donned my exercise clothes, and went to Eikaiwa. It was fun, but not of special interest. Then, I went on my walk/jog. I’ve been doing it in 45 minutes. This has been a mistake. I forgot what I was doing. I think those extra five minutes may be rather important as my ankle has been acting up. Both, really. Well, I guess I’ll have to slow down tonight. Anyway, I did the 5K in 45 minutes, probably ate some kind of snack, and went to bed. Oh, I talked to Tris and should have slept. But I like talking to Tris. Anyway, got up on Thursday the 5th and it was time to teach at Eshin. I love half of the classes there, and rather despise half. I don’t know how much is the teachers and how much is the students. It’s hard to tell with limited exposure. Sometimes, a bad teacher lets the awful kids run class. Sometimes even the best teacher is trapped with a group of utterly shit headed little monsters (Number 4 school in China comes to mind). Anyway, relatively fun. Recess wasn’t nearly as fun, though. I usually have more fun with the kids, but it didn’t happen that time. I don’t know. All and all, the vibe was weird. I don’t know if weird vibes are just me being sleepy and more than a little crazy, or if they’re a thing. Well, we’ll see.
After Eshin, I went home and I changed clothes and I did laundry and got an inside and out car wash/fill up. I’m driving one of the Eikaiwa baachan to my guitar lesson (she set it up) on Saturday, and I want to impress. The station is near my favored laundromat. Anyway, I was going to go for my walk/jog, when, part way though, my ankles started to really bother me. Well, I’d barely eaten any lunch, and I’d burned a TON of calories with the kids that day, so I called off the walk. Hurt me to do, but I did it. I also updated my FitBit to reflect the fact that I’m exercising 6X a week. It then LOWERED my calorie allotment for the day. It also lowered my expected weight loss progress. Maybe factoring in muscle? No freaking clue. No freaking clue.
Anyway, went to bed. Got up, couldn’t drag myself out of bed at 6:15, which was weird. I have to get up at 6:45, at the latest, and, in the past, I couldn’t really ever force myself to go back to sleep, or even to rest in bed, for periods of under two hours. Now . . . I would have been willing to bite into the throat of a grizzly bear for that extra few minutes of non-sleeping rest.
What the hell?
Anyway, today was two classes with Matsumoto. Most of what I did was checking work for Inori Sensei. I can’t believe how much grading these teachers have to do. It’s simply unbelievable. I’m trying to exercise during breaks, but, there aren’t a lot when you’re grading all day. Still, two fun classes with Matsumoto, both 3rd years (my favorites). Had lunch near one of the two girls who reminds me of Lindsey, which is always fun.
Tonight, have to rush home, change clothes, grab food, work out, then tea ceremony. Have to be up at a reasonable time for guitar lessons. Then, Monday starts Tomarino and the body weight for beginners workout I found on Fitnessblender.
The only thing of interest today is that I think I (pretty much) finished my brief timeline of the universe Tris and I created. Also, I have killed 20 flies. Possibly 18, possibly 22. I think 20. Anyway, yeah. That’s the high point of the day.
Had a fight, of sorts, with mom today. She’s annoying. I explained how, because I get caught in a lazy groove, I want to start Saturday and Sunday classes. She suggested that I simply not get caught in a lazy groove. Helpful advice if ever there was any. That’s what I’m attempting to do. Anyway, then, she suggested that I go and do stuff in Kagoshima city (because then I could go to church). Ignoring the fact that it’s hideously expensive to go there, it takes a long time, and I want to do stuff on weekends precisely because I’M NOT GETTING ENOUGH STUFF DONE WHERE I LIVE. I just . . . I just . . . I don’t even. There was more to it than that. I hate that she’s so desperate for contact. I feel guilty not talking to her, but she’s NOT an easy woman to deal with, especially when she’s been sending increasingly passive aggressive messages over the course of several days wondering why I’ve been out of contact (14 hour time difference and a life?).
I don’t want to neglect her or mistreat her, because she’s my mom, but my GOODNESS, am I just not able to deal with her for long periods of time.
Friday the sixth was a disappointing rush, overall. I had to see Kyoko to get another set of sleeping pills, but the wait was so long I couldn’t go on my walk before tea ceremony. And I’d been busy enough during the school day with checking Inori Sensei’s student’s notebooks that I hadn’t gotten to walk much at work either. It was frustrating. I’m also not enjoying tea ceremony like I used to. Maybe it’s the weight. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s a lot of things. My inability to relax or to enjoy anything is just . . . incredibly frustrating. I’m starting Tuesday night tea ceremony classes through Satsuma-cho, so, we’ll see how that goes. Anyway, after that, I went home, and I’m sure I dicked around being useless before going to bed. Man did I want to go to the bar, but I didn’t.
Saturday morning, I got up, and then I went with Kyoto’s sister (whose name I REALLY need to remember) to guitar lessons. I had a pretty good lesson, but it was difficult. He’s very different than Mike, my last guitar teacher. I hope I learn a lot. However, he also likes to do things in different ways. I’m supposed to use my thumb to cover unused strings now, and my hands just don’t seem to be able to do it. They did when Take Sensei was there to help me, but on my own? It doesn’t seem to be working. At least, not well, anyway. Well, we’ll see what happens there.
Wanting to thank Kyoko’s sister, I took her to lunch in Satsumasendai. We went to Rara, the Indian place that I like. It was amazingly delicious. I feel that everyone is so kind to me, and I feel guilty because I think that I’m just galactically incapable of making up to anybody the overwhelming debt that I’ve amassed. I can see why people kill themselves here for New Year’s. The debt is just overwhelming, and every act of kindness becomes a burden. The isolation . . . it makes sense. I watched, once, about a man who’d dress as a sentai superhero and help people in the subway station. It worked because, as he was a nobody, nobody need to repay him. I’m in some bizarre half thing. Not quite human (Japanese), but not quite yokai. It’s a confusing existence, and it’s difficult to navigate. Odd. I used to enjoy these waters.
After that, I wasted the entire day playing Civ III. Until I got hungry and ate too much dinner. Then, feeling like crap, and unable to walk far because of my leg, I gorged myself on junk food that I didn’t even really like from 7-11. And wrote miserably. It was not a good day. Beyond rediscovering that song.
Sunday I got up early and went to the culture festival with Kazumi and Kyoko’s sister. We were there right at the start, but we didn’t stay long. I wanted to stay longer, but it didn’t seem like it was an option. It would have been rude, I felt, to not go back with her, but it was also rude to leave early. What I saw was really lovely. Some fun dancing, some great drumming, and some wonderful singing. I do love the samisen. Or shamisen. I asked Kazumi which one is right, and she had to think about it and still was never quite sure. Word recognizes both. Who knows? Well, then I went home and . . . played Civ III. Almost all day. It was disgusting. I have so many things I need to do, and the more I thought about it and the more I fixated on it, the harder it was to do anything. I just wanted to keep playing Civ III. Making it worse, I was finally in a game that was in and of itself enjoyable. Sometimes I play the game almost like an addiction. Compulsively. I don’t enjoy, but I feel compelled to play. The game I was in on Saturday and Sunday was just perfect. The greatest level of both difficulty and doability. I loved it. It was fun, for once. But I tired as I grew close to winning (as I always do), and I forced myself to walk. I was in a dark place, as I wrote about earlier. This weekend was really awful for me in a lot of ways. Nothing happened. And that’s possibly the problem?
I walked, finally, after procrastinating over and over and over. I was in such a bad state of mind, I didn’t ignore the rain. Somehow being that pathetic, it was fitting. And yet, walking even in the rain made me feel like I was fighting back. Sometimes, wallowing in self-pity can work together with the actual pursuit of true strength. It did last night, anyway. On the walk, and I mention this because the entry where I go into greater depth is friends only, I stopped by the bar I like and tried to work out a karaoke only deal. They offered 2K Yen for Karaoke. It’s only 3K for drinks snacks and Karaoke, and when I’m there, I drink a LOT more than 1K Yen of booze. They also seemed unhappy about the deal. I guess they have their reasons. Maybe they’re afraid it’ll catch on? There’s not a single karaoke box in all of Satsuma. There used to be, evidently, but it’s long gone now. I’d think about opening one, if it were even possible. But it’s not. Only a fool opens a business in a dying town.
Well, I practiced guitar a bit, and poorly, when I got in, and I went to bed slightly too late. I read a little bit in a book of Japanese fairy tales because of an idea I’m toying with, then listened to some ASMR, then went to bed.
I got up this morning at 6, as I’d promised myself I would, and I did the entire workout I’d selected to do. It’s pathetically easy. Or, rather, it is for me ten years ago. When I think about what Oz during Cats would have said to see me struggling with this basic stuff . . . well, it’s not pretty. It’s low impact, and low . . . everything. Still, I huffed and puffed and struggled away. I want something I can do every day. I realize that it’s better to alternate muscle sets and yada yada yada, but, you know, I think the most important thing, right now, is establishing a routine that I can stick to. It’s not the best workout. It’s not even close. But it’s starting to get me to use most of my major muscle groups every day. Maybe after a month or two I’ll move to something more difficult, or start doing alternations, or something like that, but more important than doing things the best way possible is doing them at all. This is inefficient, but I don’t need it to be efficient. I’m not in a place, physically or mentally, where I think I can deal with the annoyance of having to balance a half dozen different workout plans to optimize the use of muscles that, frankly, I don’t have anymore. This gives me a warmup, a full, easy, set of exercises, and a cool down stretch. None of it is ideal, but I can’t let myself care too much about that. In this instance, the perfect is the enemy of the good. If I push myself too hard, I’ll either give up, or get sick. Again. I think one reason why I tend to get sick during workout regimens is that I work too hard and the stress on my body weakens me. It makes sense. Well, little by little. That’s the way I’ve got to do it. And I’ve got no girls I need to entertain to distract me this time. And no depressive breakup/relationship collapse bullshit to make eating my only friend.
Oh women, how much weight I have gained and lost over you.
Now, I have to admit, part of wanting to lose weight is wanting to be attractive. Largely for myself, but also, frankly, for girls. I’m ashamed of how I look and I’m ashamed to be seen. It’s too humid here to wear clothes as concealing as I’d like, and there’s about fifteen pounds too much to effectively conceal anyway. My vests bulge. That just makes everything worse. However, part of it is feeling trapped in my body. I don’t like that I feel like my flesh is holding me back. I don’t like feeling tired when I do things. I don’t like how hard it is to sit seiza. I don’t like that I tire out quicker than the kids when we play at recess. I don’t like that I have to limit myself based on how out of shape I am. Even with acting. I felt like my height (lack thereof), my weight, and my utter and complete inflexibility were things holding me back from really getting into characters the way they needed. I was clunky. Elegant motion was beyond me because it was, frankly, impossible. I had a huge gut hanging off of me, and legs that barely bend. I miss performing. I want to get into it again, somehow, in Kagoshima. I want to do it, and, if I’m going to do it, I have to fix this problem. I’ve got to lose weight, for my mind, for my image, and for a career that, I imagine, would make me happy. We’ll see.
After getting up and working out, I went through my nondescript morning routine. I chugged a ton of coffee, though. Last night, I bought a new umbrella as I’d forgotten my old one . . . somewhere or other. Plasse was out of sushi by the time I got there, so last night’s dinner was 2 7-11 Caesar Salads, a potato salad, and 2 mikan. It was another incentive to go out and walk. I thought maybe the exercise would improve my mood. Bought my first ever pack of cigarettes, knowing that nicotine is mildly psychoactive and that, not being addicted to it, it would have a stronger effect. This morning, I poured water into the container with the remaining cigarettes to ruin them, then tossed them in with my bag of burnables. I can’t let that start as a habit. Thankfully, I just don’t like cigarettes. I like the feeling of smoke, and I may buy a hookah, but cigarettes just hurt. Too hot. I don’t like hot things in my throat. In Japan, they call me a “nekojita”, meaning “cat tongue,” because of how sensitive my mouth is to heat.
I feel bad because as I was walking home from 7-11 last night, I bumped into Hirayama Sensei and his family. They were all happily walking to 7-11. With cute umbrellas over their heads. They were the picture of a happy family, everyone was smiling and happy. What I must have looked like in my soaked gray track suit, reflector arm bands and sash, soaking hair, and wet beard I hesitate to imagine. They could tell something was wrong, but they quite artfully ignored it, and I explained that it hadn’t really been raining when I started walking, but then it picked up. It was obvious that I was on a walk, and, really, it had been more misting than raining when I’d started. I’d banked on it letting up (not that I cared too much).
Well, today I teach at Tomarino. Then Eikaiwa. I’m thinking about going to that coffee place that had karaoke today after Eikaiwa. We’ll see what happens. Kazumi mentioned that she’d be interested in dancing with me if we can find a ballroom school in Satsumasendai. That’d be another wonderful thing to add to life. My schedule is filling up, which I need, I just need to somehow find the strength to fill the hours between the obligations.
I dream of having some girl, and the way I dream of her these days is disturbingly reminiscent of a kitten, who loves me and cares about me and believes in me and encourages me. Somebody who has a romantic version of Courtney’s faith in me, and Rachael’s ability to calm me and make me somehow feel at peace. Maybe even a bit of a 16 year old Amber’s ability to make me want to be more than I am. But, before I can get there . . . I’ve got to be more than I am. By doing what? I don’t know. Maybe tea. Maybe flowers. Maybe dancing. Maybe singing. Maybe instruments. Maybe I’ll learn to whistle in just such a way as to make the flower petals shake in the windows of a house three doors down. I don’t know. It’s not important. What it is isn’t important. That I do it is. That’s what matters. If this girl exists, if she’s real, then she’s not going to believe in me or care for me or love me for any idiotic, lazy screenwriter notion of “because you’re you”. The adoration that Jordan and especially Audrey felt for me made me sick. I was never particularly good or kind to them, I was never very clever around them, I was never at even close to my best, and I looked pretty close to my worst, but it didn’t matter. All they could see was how wonderful I was. There was no push. There was no pull. There was barely any encouragement. I was sickened by the esteem they held me in. It made me feel disgusting and horrible, and made it hard to take seriously anybody idiotic enough to fetishize me. Yet, what I want from someone is a different, better, version of that. It’s hard to say what it was about Rachael that made her care so different. Maybe it’s because I was confident of who I was. I’ve written a lot on how my lost confidence may be the defining quality of me post ’08. Well, the only ways to get it back are through doing something, by being something, or by utter and complete self-delusion. Sadly, I don’t think I’m quite talented enough to pull off the last one. It’d certainly be the most convenient option.
So, here I am. Right about back where I started. Where I always find myself. Making resolutions almost the same as the last set. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, it’ll stick this time.
I’ve wanted to be 150 lbs. from the time I was 15. Wouldn’t it be nice to pull it off by 30?