April 9th, 2002. Non-Sequitor Bouquet - Part II.

Man, it's quiet down here. I don't get this place. Sometimes, it's buzzing with people and so noisy that you can't hear yourself think. Other days, it's like a morgue in here.

Relating to death: Someone put these huge pots of flowers in the lobby of the gaijin house. Pretty as they may be, the fragrance of the flowers reminds me too much of my grandfather's wake and funeral. I've never been able to stay in a florist shop very long since then. Gives me the shivers. Luckily for me, flowers wilt in time.

1.

I was just talking to someone the other day and realized that I have only about a month remaining before I have to leave Japan (and there's still so much I haven't done!). I really hated it here when I first arrived, but after I've settled somewhat, I am beginning to love it here. I will definitely miss this place when I am back in Canada.

Anyway, I'm going to spend the next few weeks giving away the possessions that are too costly for me to ship and too annoying to carry back. I'm also planning to meet up with people, just to take photos and say goodbye one last time. You know, if I were watching all of this from the outside, I'd guess that I was getting ready to die.

You know how people say: "Live each day as though it were your last"? Well, somehow this isn't quite as fun as I expected it to be.

2.

The older I get, the more the old cliches make sense to me. You never know what you have, until you lose it. I must have come across a thousand different situations where this has come up, since I arrived in Japan, back in October. For example, just this Sunday passed, I got out of work at 5:20pm. From the moment I stepped outside, I felt like there was something seriously wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was. As I climbed the stairs to the train platform, it suddenly struck me: the sun was still out!

I felt like a prisoner liberated from a Russian gulag. I could see! People were smiling! Incredible. It only lasted for an hour or so, but it was refreshing to see everything in natural light, rather than the fluorescent luminescence of night.

3.

I met a lady in class today who said that she had an irrational fear of chickens. At first, I thought that she was trying to be funny, but she was serious. Their faces, their feathers, their legs...all of these things invoked disgust and horror in her heart. How demented is that?

She claimed that her fear is not due to dementia (as I suggested), rather it was because she was attacked by a chicken when she was 3 or 4. Apparently, she got a little too close to a neighbour's hen, and the hen didn't like it. My students never cease to amaze me.

I'm feeling a mite peckish now. Maybe I'll fry up an egg.