My child is on autumn break. It’s only a week long, but it still makes me sigh. I feel like I’ve devoted a huge amount of time to raising my kids though I am not the type of person who finds joy in giving of myself to others. I had to give up so much. If I have to give up even more for them, I’m afraid I will lose myself again. I was a stranger to myself for a long time and I’m now finding a way back to who I am. I really need a solid block of time to pull myself together and hold on to it. I struggled to pretend I was home alone, but I failed. I couldn’t help being distracted. I decided to break my routine and have my own space. Today, I came to a cafe far enough away that I wouldn’t run into anyone I know. It’s working. I feel better. Writing this in the cafe and watching people walking and having lunch from the window brings back my sense of self.  I need trial and error to find and build a way as myself to exist within my family.

 

Today, I found that starting the day early is beneficial. 

My tennis lessons started last Friday. Initially, I took an intermediate class from 9 am because I thought I couldn’t manage to get to the beginner class at 8 in the morning. However, people who were taking the intermediate class were mostly very experienced, whereas I had almost no experience in playing tennis. I understood why skill-based classes exist in the first place. My coach asked me to move down to the beginner class after the lesson. Because I myself already knew that it wasn’t a good idea to keep coming to the intermediate class, I accepted the offer. Today was the first day of beginner class. I managed to get to the class by 8 a.m. I felt better in the lesson. I thought I could survive in this class. When I walked back home, it was only 9:30. I did some chores, read a book, and took a nap. And yet, it was still before noon. I ended up earning myself three extra hours today. I came across a post saying that my favorite bakery was baking carrot cake today. I can go! Fansastic! And I went by train. The frosting made the carrot cake very sweet but it had a moist, dense crumb that gave a satisfying bite. I bought six different kinds of cake. My favorite was the baked cheesecake. It was rich and heavy, and not so sweet, so I could taste cheese flavor. The carrot cake got a little crushed while I was carrying it home.

 

I was thrilled when we stumbled upon a tofu pudding shop that I had wanted to go to while exploring the area. Since the shop was full and the weather was beautiful, we decided to order takeout. What made me even happier was that a shop I followed on Instagram was a few minutes’ walk away. I was full after lunch, but it didn’t matter. My desire outweighed my stomach capacity. I ordered a chocolate cake with a chestnut on top. 

On the grass in the park near the shops, we had the desserts. The texture of the tofu pudding was more like mizu-yokan than silken tofu. It was very light, but the tofu flavor came through at the very end. The syrup was not too sweet, and all the toppings were super healthy and tasty. Unexpectedly, my stomach felt refreshed, so I decided to eat the cake I was going to save for later. The cake itself was very rich chocolate cake, and the cream covering it was very light. The chestnut was so big that I almost felt like I was eating another dessert. I enjoyed the chestnut. 

 

It is rainy. I woke up feeling something wet on my knee. My old cat had pooped on my bed, which was the beginning of a delightful day. She still has the ability to poop. I am reassured. 

Watching plants on the porch is my daily routine. I like soil that talks a lot. Buds are easily washed away because they don’t have enough roots to support their bodies. Everything is different, but everything seems to have so much similarities. Plants need roots to support their bodies.

I met a woman who was a professional baker in Portland, Oregon. She used to have her own shop in Portland, but she closed it and move to Japan due to her husband’s job. Though she works at a restaurant as a pastry chef now, all she makes is frozen food. Since she likes to bake from scratch, and new recipes come one after another to her mind, she has started  baking and sold them in a rental space once a month. She also said she wants to maintain her baking skills. I tried everything she was selling. They tasted absolutely American. Because we sat at the counter, we had a chance to talk with her, and she let us try a scone with gravy source. She told us that it was farmer food. It is easy, cheap and filling. I felt very strongly the presence of people working in American fields, which stimulate my curiosity. I imagined people who work and live differently in a different places somewhere on this earth. She gave us a free cookie and said “See you later” instead of bye when we left, which warmed my heart.

 

Learning other languages is very interesting. To learn a language, I have to understand how people who speak the language comprehend the world. I am sometimes surprised at how much information a single simple sentence has. I also know that language can fix how one sees the world. There is a common point of view that is shared among people who speak the same language. In some way, I can say that language can confine our thoughts because it hampers us from seeing millions of other points of view that could exist in the world. I was thinking about it more, but I couldn’t clarify my thinking enough to put it into words. I will keep woking about it.

I planted seeds of edible flower and beets in my planters. The seeds sprouted. And rice has also headed.

 

I have been walking almost every day since I found out my blood pressure is high for my age. Every time I walk up the hill to return to my house, I try to sense how I feel about the neighborhood. I figured this place has no nutrients that I can take in. I don’t even know how to access the nutrients that this place possibly has. Whenever I walk this area, I feel like I’m eating food that smells like the fridge.  Maybe,the environment that I grew up in is so different from this area, I don’t have a channel to access the place like here, which is one of my hypotheses. Or maybe, the soil here has been buried so deeply and covered with such a hardened lid on the top that no life can sprout. People here don’t want diversity but they are only interested in staying privileged.

I brought back soil and weeds from my father’s vegetable garden, and have been growing them on pots. Looking back now, I think my weakened mind needed it desperately, though the voice telling me so was so frail. Now, I realize how much seeing these weeds saves my mind. It reminds me that I need to get out of here.

 

Ryoentousui

I got off at Takadanobaba Station and walked toward my destination, and the area was packed with Chinese supermarkets and restaurants. Durians were sitting right out front of the shops, and seeing such an unusual food displayed so casually made me think — maybe the lives of people from other countries have really taken root around here. I walked for almost ten minutes, thinking I’d stop by these shops on my way back. It was such a hot day.

When I got to the shop, a group of two women friends were waiting ahead of me. I thought waiting outside for a long time would be really rough, but since I was alone, they let me in first.

It was a Chinese milk pudding shop. I ordered cold milk pudding topped with red beans and taro balls. I also got a warm dish — probably taro and mochi rice balls in a sweet coconut milk broth. There were two kinds of mochi balls, one filled with peanut paste and one with black sesame paste. Everything was supposedly handmade by people from mainland China.

The milk pudding and red beans had a clear handmade feel. Biting into the taro balls, it really tasted like the real thing — a faint aroma of taro filled my mouth, along with a starchy, slightly grainy texture and a chewy mochi-like bite. It really felt like it was made from actual taro. As for the warm soup, the taro was delicious — a firm, non-sticky texture, kind of like satoimo (Japanese taro). I love that kind of bite. When I bit into the mochi ball, a smooth, melting peanut paste oozed out. Somehow I felt a deep sense of Chinese atmosphere in that moment — like I was tasting a piece of the Chinese sensibility itself. Something I probably never knew existed. I found myself thinking, this is the kind of pleasure Chinese people must experience in their everyday lives.

A long time ago, my piano teacher once told me that in “Clair de Lune,” Debussy also expressed a kind of longing for China. (Something like that, anyway.) The way the paste melted out when I bit into the mochi ball was so exquisitely timed — the way it emerged was delightful, and the sweetness gave a little candy-like thrill of excitement. It was really romantic.

Eating food from another country — I realized there’s a real joy in discovering sensations you never knew existed. With that feeling still lingering, I walked home, browsing the selection at the Chinese supermarket along the way.

良縁糖水

高田馬場駅で降り目的地へ向かって歩いていると、中国系のスーパーや飲食店だらけだった。店先にドリアンが置いてあって、あまり見ない食べ物がこんな当たり前に置いてあるなんて、異国の人たちの生活がここらへんに根付いているのかな？と思った。帰り道にこれらの店に寄ろうと思いつつ10分弱歩いた。とってもアッチー日だった。店に着くと私の前に友達づれの女性一組が待っていた。店の外で長い時間待つのは辛すぎると思ったけど、一人だったので先に入れてもらえた。

中国のミルクプリンのお店。冷たいミルクプリンに小豆をのせ、芋園をトッピング。あと、多分ココナッツミルクの甘い汁にタロ芋と白玉が入っている暖かい食べ物を頼んだ。白玉の中にはピーナッツ餡と黒胡麻の餡が入った2種類。全部が本場中国の人の手作りという情報です。

ミルクプリンと小豆は、手作り感あり。芋園は食べると本物だ～という感じだった。口の中に入れると芋の香りが少しして芋の粘りとザラザラ感が感じられ、もっちりとした食感。芋から作ってますという感じがした。汁粉の方はタロ芋が美味しい。粘りのない里芋のような歯応え。この歯応えが大好きです。白玉を噛むとトロッとしたピーナッツ餡が出てきた。何だかものすごく中国の風情を感じてしまった。まるで中国人の感覚を味わったような気持ちになった。多分私が知らなかったやつ。こんな感覚を楽しみながら中国の人は生きてるんだなあ～て。昔、ピアノの先生がドビュッシーは「月光」で中国への憧れの気持ちも表現してるのよ、的なことを言っていた気がする。白玉を噛んで餡が出て来るトロッと感はものすごく絶妙で、出てき方が楽しいし甘さにときめくキャンディー見たいな感じがするし。とてもロマンチックだった。

異国のものを食べるって、知らなかった感覚を知る楽しさがあるんだなあ～て思いながら中華系のスーパーの品揃えを観察しながら帰りました。

 “A woman who was a virgin had vanquished the Devil through her purity, which was unassailable in its perfection. We were made to understand that the evil over which she stood in triumph, and for which she was exalted, was the evil of the flesh, of lust, the desire to commit unmentionable acts.”

Human society is constructed based on men’s emotions.

“The most we can hope for, in Celtic society at any rate, is evidence of a more balanced relationship between the sexes. Misogyny will show that this balance was lost with the rise of Greece and Rome,…”

I know that I am not a man because I don’t feel a man inside, but  I also don’t feel aligned with images of women that society portrays. I am not submissive, dedicated, tender, sexy, cute, etc.. I have no intention to give any pleasure to men. I know I was born as a girl, I have lived in women’s circles, and I feel comfortable being with women, but I feel unconfortable when I am forced into any category of the female image that men expect. I just don’t fit in any of them. I cook because I like to eat and am interested in food. I like to stay home because I am a homebody. I feel very wrong when my traits are considered as a dedicating mother. I am very opposite. I always struggle to put others first. I feel so lucky that I have the capacity to adore my kids, otherwise I could have run away from responsibilities. I can’t be what I don’t feel even though society expects me to become one unless I become hollow inside, which men expect of  all women. But men feel the women worthless even though they wanted women to be that way so badly. How ridiculous that is. How pitiful men are. I feel men’s fear toward women. They are afraid of what we have. Our chaos? Anyway, only what’s clear is that we have power to make men feel threatened.

 

I brought edible weeds from my father’s vegetable field, and planted them in my planter. The soil is also from the field. I added some nutrients in the soil from my compost. The weeds and soil might be unhappy that they separated from the place where they are accustomed to. Sorry, if so. But, I am happy to see the soil and weeds from the field. If the soil was from a store, I would feel very different. I don’t get a same feeling as my father’s field. I enjoy watching them through all seasons. Weeds are very strong. They seem to die in winter but bud as soon as Spring comes. I can get excited about the budding forever. This planter is one of the few place that I can exist in this house. I can meet me.

Recently, I cut the skin of my thumb a little when I was slicing vegetables. Day by day, my thumb got better and finally my thumb was completely rebuilt. What I did?? I didn’t do anything. I only gave fastaid to stop bleeding, and put bandaid on till the pain goes away. I didn’t order my body to cure the cut. I didn’t feel anyting while my finger was reconstructing. Who am I? Where am I from? The world is filled with mystery.

 Something has been changing.

I think my body speaks very loudly. My body has been ordering me to raise my children since their birth. It bound me in motherhood so tightly and seemed never to let me free. My body is very very strict, like a drill sergeant. I had to work like a slave. It didn’t allow me to use myself for myself. What I was provided was just enough to keep me alive. However, after my eldest child was accepted into high school, the bond loosened. My body gave me some space for myself. I am very happy. But I wonder what part of my body is controlling me.

Picking up the scattered litter outside the litter box is also an experience of being alive. I am experiencing being alive. That is what I felt this morning. I want to hold on to this feeling.

 

I went on my first walk of 2026 at the end of winter break. I wanted some time to myself.I had decided to go to a cafe that has my favorite hot chocolate. I strolled through the neighborhood near the cafe, holding my hot chocolate in my hand. I often visit the area, but I had never walked down the back streets before. There was an interesting restaurant covered with plants, and even chain restaurants were somehow distinctive. Even the construction fences felt oddly enjoyable. I was happy with the stimulation of small discoveries along the way. Then, I realized how much I put myself last over the past two weeks. I’ll be careful not to overdo the holiday cooking next year. I had some hot chocolate that had cooled, but it still tasted good.

Perhaps I need to take a slow walk again.