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いらっしゃいませ☆ - hi there - page 4


March 12th, 2017


Language is a challenge and sometimes not being able to put something into words feels like a failure.

There’s a specific type of life that I’m trying to create. It’s calm and peaceful, but otherwise hard to put into words. I want to perpetually create the type of feeling from the beginning of a Ghibli or Shinkai Makoto movie. Before the action starts, there’s a rhythmic balance to the everyday. Things move slowly, small accomplishments are celebrated. Neither too fussy or too old-fashioned. A modern in-between, and a nostalgia for the present moment. I don’t know how to describe it, and it frustrates me.

It’s evident in the digital scrapbook I made; lots of shots of the sky, flowers, communities, and shops. It leads you to believe you can walk everywhere and everything is perpetually tinted like a faded photograph.

Once I actually experienced this feeling. I was cooking lunch during a summer between semesters. Dad was at work. I was boiling noodles in our town house and for some reason everything felt right. There was no chaos, impending conflict, or big hurdle coming up. Everything was in its place and ok. I thought, this is the feeling I want, that I’ll have when I move out to my own place.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that again. My life seems to swirl in self-made or -perpetuated anxiety and clutter. For a long time I assumed it was part of being an adult. About a year ago I started analyzing it in depth. What exact things made my life seem chaotic and what, if any, control did I have over it? This lead me to the Konmari method, learning to say no, and nurturing the place I’m in more. I think that has helped.

At the present moment, I hope to do what I can to gently pull my stressors apart. I will continue to try to put time and effort into my home and routine so that it serves me as well as me serving it. I also both fairly and not view my past with rose-colored glasses. I romanticize times where I was actually suffering. Humid, broken summers earning transfer credits at a smaller school. University nights where I felt the layers of myself peeling off of a hot, bleeding core. Why do I try to make myself think I enjoyed them when I didn’t?

Why is what I am looking for encapsulated almost solely by Japanese media and architecture? Why do I find these things soothing to a deeper, more primitive version of myself? I wish there was something I could point to. I’ll keep trying until I can better answer these questions.

December 2016

March 4th, 2017 | Tagged:

There are no streetlights in nowhere Massachusetts. The night smells like burning leaves in the distance and snow overhead. Your hands are crossed with white lines as though skaters had glided over them when you weren’t looking. The darkness is absolute. It is uncertain if there is ice and so you go slowly.

When you reach home, the air is biting and then the house is warm and quiet. Nothing echoes. You eat a sandwich at the counter then bring a glass of water upstairs with you. The covers are warm and heavy. The radiator on the floor clatters, then fades into a gentle plinking.