10 days ago I met someone whom I thought had everything I’m looking for in a romantic partner.

A week ago we had our second date and my belief was only confirmed.

2 days ago he stayed over. We were supposed to meet up today but it’s 7pm and I haven’t heard from him.

No he’s not some dickhead who was just in it for the sex. At least I don’t think so, but what do I know really. In any case that’s not my concern. It’s in fact much worse than that. I seem to repel guys I really like. There has been this pattern where I’d date someone for a while, and they’d all get a cold or something and an epiphany to go with it. The epiphany being they don’t want to date me any more. This time there wasn’t even time for a little sickness. Come on run, as fast as you can, out of crazy person’s iron grasp of relationship horror.

I feel exhausted. I honestly don’t know what is repelling these guys. They’re all really nice guys, decent, kind, sweet, gentle… At the same time, I cannot think of anything that I may have done to inspire such dramatic and swift changes of heart. I’m at a loss.

The heart aches. The mind wanders. There was a moment today I kept saying to myself, lying in bed, “shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!” It just felt like the right thing to say. The situation is completely shit and I feel I have caused it but I don’t know how! How fucking shit is that?

Good thing I’ve only met him three times so this should go away relatively quickly. Good indeed.

While I was making my lunch today I was thinking about my cousin’s wedding in late August. It touched me deeply, which was surprising as the ceremony was terribly kitch, the bride customarily shy, the guests rowdy and family politics rife. But my cousin deeply touched me. His happiness almost shocked me. He cried more than once and made me on the verge of tears too, so large and encompassing his happiness was. It was clear that he loves his bride very much and that this single moment, this ceremony, this declaration of his love, this public affirmation of their love, is the happiest in his life.

I too can still pinpoint such a moment in my life. I could do it when I was making my sandwiches and I can do it now. My memory is somewhat assisted by a ‘public holiday’ (April Fool’s) but in a single week I met the love of my life and was made permanent in a job I prized. Such abundant, concentrated happiness; it’s intoxicating thinking about it even now. We don’t have these moments often but when we do, they last us a lifetime. The effect of reminiscing can be unpredictable but I’ll also remember those moments as moments of extreme happiness. I hope I will taste them again and my cousin will have his forever.

A very wise friend once said of me of having a very strong sense of self. I took it as a compliment, as it was, liked it and have not forgotten about it. I think it’s true too; if nothing else, my self-obsessiveness absolutely requires it. Hence the blog, hence “i am my Muse”, ha ha.

I read somewhere once that the Japanese have a relatively weak sense of self partly because they don’t have an equivalent of the word “I”. Instead, the “I” changes depending on who you’re talking to, who you are (sex, status, class, etc) and where you are. So you’re perpetually considering how your society and peers consider you.

Personally I think that’s bullshit, someone’s just taking linguistics too far. We’ve all been brainwashed by this individualism ism. We throw it around so much that we believe it now. Everyone’s an individual.

Our lives are not that different from each other. Most of us are behaving exactly how the collective expects / shapes us to behave. There are exceptions, but they exist in Japan too.

1. Do you have a job? If not, do you want a job?
2. Are you in love? If not, do you want to be in love? Ever?
3. When was the last time you bought something you didn’t need?
4. Are you saving up for the next thing you don’t need?
5. Do you want to be HAPPY? (unless you’re already HAPPY?)

You get the drift.

Not there’s anything wrong with being a consumer, having a career, chasing your dreams or whatever. But it’s hypocritical to have too much pride in being something one is not.

So whilst I’m formulating all this in my head, my Self tells me that I need to do something different. To give meaning to My Life. To be an Individual. But really I just want a good job, more money and someone to love me.

Can we stop going in circles?

お帰り。

This entry contains references to Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows.

I just reread the last few chapters in the last Harry Potter book and something dawned on me when I read this:

‘You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,’ said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other’s eyes, green into red. ‘You won’t be able to kill any of them, ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people -’

‘- I meant to, and that’s what did it. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you…’

This is of course part of the final dialogue between Harry and Lord Voldemort after Harry’s resurrection, after he “didn’t defend [him]self tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again”.

The parallels between this and the resurrection of Christ are unmistakeable. I found this very very interesting! And once I start to look at the book in this way, the Christian paradigm seems to apply fairly well.

Dumbledore, the father figure, is certainly omniscient and omnipresent. He is just a tiny bit lacking in the omnipotence department though he is still the cleverest, the most powerful and skilled wizard of his time, but the emphasis on his figure as a loving Father is consistent with some strands of Christianity.

Furthermore, just like these strands of Christianity, human goodness rather than human sinfulness is the central doctrine in this book. This human goodness, or Love, as Lord Voldemort speaks of so derisively, is the Holy Spirit that warms you, guides you and what produces a Patronus to protect and shield you. So, there, now we have the Trinity.

“…but I was selfish, Harry, more selfish than you, who are a remarkably selfless person…”

I’ve always known my interest in writing. But I also noticed some time ago that my various attempts at writing something that resembles a novel had always been fuelled by depressed episodes during my life, usually caused by disappointments in love. Quite tacky and true.

This most recent attempt was no exception. Its inspirations were varied and somewhat convoluted, but very certainly stemmed from an aborted relationship whose aftermath slowly but inexorably consumed me as the grief subsided but only into the subconscious.

However, that is all in the past now. A lot has changed in the last four months; Momojiro-sama is happy in that paradise called Ryuukyuu. I say goodbye with no sadness, some regret and plenty of optimism.

I shall continue this blog with my near-life persona; for I think to say that this is my true native voice is to tell a lie. I am not sure of even the existence of such a thing. So, for now, I live on with my personas, one of whom I share with you whilst the old one’s on her holiday.

The letter to Ming Kwok was never despatched. Right after I signed it I felt a violent chill that utterly overpowered me. What followed I cannot recall much, falling in and out of consciousness intermittently. It is the third week since I first fell ill. I started to get my senses back a week ago.

Reiko nursed me and never tells me any particulars of what happened unless I asked. The first thing I said to her was “the competition!” So she took something off the top of my bedside table and placed in my right hand.

“Matsuo Sensei visited you many times and brought many of these perfume bags. She said it would help if you could smell this fragrance and keep your soul with us. You missed the competition but there’s always next year! How glad I am that you can speak again!”

I smiled and felt much better. Perhaps I would’ve been more disappointed if the competition was just the day before but by then it didn’t really matter. Matsuo Sensei is indeed very thoughtful, who knows, maybe I really found the strength to fight the demons who wanted to take me down because I had this familiar fragrance to support me.

Oka-san certainly got a big fright. She has decided that the whole establishment needs to be exorcised by as many monks as Kiyomizu-dera can spare for as many days. In the meantime she ordered Reiko and I to go abroad to “cleanse the demons and their airs off us”. I am sure she had our best interest in her heart. And I was grateful for the unprecedented freedom.

We are setting off first thing in the morning. I have also packed the letter to Ming Kwok. I am sure I will have plenty of time to decide on what to do with it on our long, long way to Ryuukyuu.

My dear Ming Kwok,

Thank you for the brushes and calligraphy books. They are finally in my hands after you sent them nearly five years ago. I wonder if this will take another five years to reach you?

My life here is pretty much how it has always been. Just like how you left it. Yet things change so much in the space of five years. I thought I would never be able to live in peace without your gentle voice or fingers on my koto. But I think I underestimated (overrated?) myself and time.

Do you ever feel the urge to lean on someone? A sudden, strong urge that just takes hold of you and consumes your thoughts, even if the other person in the same room is a total stranger. You tell yourself you just need five minutes, but you know once you put your head down you will be willing to give up much more.

I never had this feeling until after I met you. On that cliff overlooking the sea, I rested my head on your lap whilst we gazed in the direction of your hometown. The horizon was vertical and I had a slightly chilly sensation that I was in two halves, one air, the other water. From then on I think I lost the equilibrium I knew in my life.

I truly hope you have found your equilibrium and that when I receive your reply to this letter (in about ten years), I will be able to say the same about myself.

Your Momojiri

Matsuo Sensei is the kind of woman that put stupid people very ill at ease because of her penetrating intellect. At the same time, her natural grace and beauty always excite much interest wherever she goes. So she commands respect amongst the geishas and clients alike; even those who are jealous of her position fear to show their contempt in case of being reprimanded by others.

But she never takes advantage of such social status because she is very modest and her manners unassuming. So she is completely unlike a man, even though her curious name should have adorned the more vain sex. Yet her knowledge of the classics and Chinese poetry is anthological, she plays the game of Go as if she were the general of an army, and the koto! When her fingers are on those strings of a koto, it’s like seeing fish in the sea and birds in the sky.

However, today her hands were not doing anything so cultivated or stylish. We have been kneading all day. I was finally able to procure a bucket of water from the well in our old tea house and had someone carry it to Matsuo Sensei’s place. When I told her about my idea of making the new perfume bag, she was immediately interested and thought it would be a splendid undertaking. And while I have been trying to gather what she thought we would need (silk gauze, handkerchiefs, the best rice and water from the well), Matsuo Sensei has been devising a perfect way of extracting that fragrance.

To be safe, she asked me to cook some of the congee I love so much first so we both knew what exactly we were trying to obtain. Her subtle smile with close eyes was exquisite when her face and all her senses were immersed in the steam above the congee glistening with the greenish tinge. She then instructed me to cook more and to drain out the liquid.

Meanwhile she started cooking with the rice and water I brought as if we were going to make mochi. The rice came out looking like normal steamed rice in that it was white, but the fragrance is still there. So Matsuo Sensei mixed it with the congee I drained. And instead of beating the rice like we would for mochi, we kneaded the rice-congee mixture with our hands to keep the fragrance.

When the mixture became mochi-like, we rolled them into little balls about the size of half of a quail egg and placed them under the sun to dry and harden. Then we waited for the congee juice to be completely cool, before submerging all the handkerchiefs in it.

“Now we wait.” Matsuo Sensei bid me to come back in three days.

“But that’s when the contest will be!”

“Perfect.”

What a New Year’s Eve!

The hanabi was magnificent. It lit up the entire city with green, gold and magenta. These explosions of lights and colours are just so mesmerising for some reason, even the smoke they leave behind give the landscape a magical look. Afterwards, my heart was suddenly injected with so much love for those around me I had to hold their hands and tell them how important they had been to me all year.

I saw the hanabi at Matsuo Sensei’s house with a few other girls, with Reiko amongst them. Matsuo Sensei taught me the koto at the geisha school. She was my favourite teacher and I’m very grateful that she has continued to be my mentor and friend all these years. I never make any important decision without first seeking her advice.

As usual, the sake flowed and I had too much to drink. I completely forgot to tell Matsuo Sensei what I told Reiko the day after I had the congee made with water from the old well: I am going to try to make a perfume bag of the fragrance of that congee for the perfume contest as part of the New Year celebrations. I must go to Matsuo Sensei again tomorrow to ask for her assistance on this.

After dinner and hanabi, we all went to a koto performance. I drank more and was quite beside myself. I felt so free without the men. I fancied myself Genji, the Shining Prince. I was surrounded by so much beauty, who were all creatures put on this land for art and pleasure. I wish I did not have clients, Oka-san or any of the worldly constraints but was completely free to enjoy these things. What a wondrous life that would be! I would drink, compose poems and have romantic intrigues with a different courtesan every night. Ah!

I sweated all the sake out in my sleep and felt very light and cleansed when I woke up. It is a good new start.