I ate the onigiri to the right and it was yummy, as was everything else and the sake.

Then I woke up the next day and I was a year older. What do I think about that?

As usual, conflicted over the extent that I should acknowledge it. But in the end, it will never not be acknowledge so I shouldn’t try to hide from self-reflection. This year’s theme was of course the need to finish school and find a job. Then there was the consideration that a year from now my life will be completely different. That brings up a mixture of: fear – what will it be?, urgency – I need to make it something, and excitement – there are so many possibilities.

This morning I had a dream where I returned to Japan to continue work at NTT. The office room was darker, people were busy. I sat down at my desk and it was somewhat cleaned up since the time I left. I wished that I was wearing new clothes. I tried to work but couldn’t find the motivation. It actually felt like I was going backwards.

I woke up knowing I have to move forward.

My special event of yesterday:

On the way home from UBC at night I transferred to the number 7. Walking to the back of the bus I took a second glance at a woman sitting to the right and realized that I knew her. I continued on taking two steps further, then had second thoughts and turned back around to say hello.

I had worked with this woman at a coffee house in Regina for a short time. Then after I moved here I ran into her within the first few months. Her daughter was living here and she was visiting and I think, planning on moving to Vancouver. I continued to run into her in Vancouver, Regina, and flights in between.

I had forgotten about her after moving to Japan. I think I forgot about a lot of things. But then a few months ago, I was standing on Dunbar, waiting for the 25, and the 7 drove by. I was pretty sure that I saw her in the window.

Last night, I almost let it go. So that I could relax in my tiredness after karate practice, so that I could sit alone and have space around me to hold my drenched umbrella, so that I could eat my blackberry twizzlator in peace. (Is that the right spelling? I tried to Google twizzlator but with no results except now the word twizzler is nails on chalkboard.) But really, how could I when, here is a person that it seems I am meant to run into at all unexpected times.

We exchanged some life stories in the five minutes before my stop. Four blocks to go and I was scribbling my email address onto a notebook page so that maybe one day we can meet but not by accident.

I got off the bus and I felt really happy.

Maybe it is just coincidence that we always run into each other. Maybe there is a reason that I am yet to find out. Either way, it makes me happy to see this person and that was something I almost gave up because I was seeking my natural comforts. On the bus – being alone and having space.

It made me think about what we, what I give up just to be comfortable.

Rocks in Saskatchewan are colourful as the land is fairly high in an assortment of minerals. I’ll leave the research about what sorts of minerals to you but…I just didn’t realize this until I had the chance to spend a substantial period of time away from the province.

Speaking of small rocks, the new karate group is hard but really satisfying and I feel eager to get to the next practice. Last night after a bit of stretching the sensei started exercises by asking us, according to [insert name of famous martial arts dude here], what is the best martial art? Somebody answered, “kung fu??” No…”running”. So he took us for a run outside and around the student union building. He and some others went barefoot. I only had my flats with me but still wore them for fear of lacerating my foot. I had confidence at first because I jog regularly but this was running, not jogging. It was a little tough for me. Then on return to the SUB, we went up and down the stairs a few times…running down, hopping up. I also learned that I really don’t know how to jump/hop. I will have to practice that – I don’t know how to get my feet off the ground unless there is a horizontal plane to put the rest of my body on.

I signed up for a tournament in 2 weeks. Only for the kata (forms), not the kumite (sparring). It gives me extra motivation. This morning I have been daydreaming about the movements. Still, I need to remember that daydreaming != practice.

It is interesting to note how a product’s packaging changes over time, and how it doesn’t. And why don’t they use this font anymore? The spacing of the letters reminds me of laying in the sun at my cabin, reading my father’s and his brother’s old comic books and wondering if the mail order ads for novelty items, the magic manual to get that beach bod, and a set of 1001 tiny little green soldiers were still applicable.

The above bottle was bought sometime in the late 70s. Below, before that. There is no UPC on the bottle. Could it have been on a box? I somehow doubt that. This bottle has history. It has the number ‘23′ which at sometime meant something to someone. Now it means nothing and the life of this bottle that has existed all my life will soon end. Should the toss happened on the 23rd at 23:23? Then the story of Brandy could be that it spent the majority of its life time marked with a symbol of its own fate.

Then the peppermint extract. This was a toy. Not a toy but an essential ingredient to many potions crafted in yogurt containers. If only I could have figured out the right combination of flour, shampoo, corn syrup and the green stuff…

This is produced or distributed by Nabob Foods Limited, Vancouver, Canada (according to back of bottle). That is the same Nabob as Nabob Coffee, before they changed their name to Nabob Coffee and long before the company was acquired by Kraft. I wonder when Nabob Foods Limited stopped existing. Could the UPC on the back help? It is only 6 digits long: 600162. Googling is fruitless.

I came back to Regina yesterday. Here over the weekend. It is good to see family and friends again, though confronting the remnants of myself in this city is hard. This time, more so than last Christmas, I feel like I’ve changed so much and I am wondering what parts of my past identities, if any, should I hold onto.

I think it is a campaign by the Students for a Democratic Society group at UBC.

From their site:

This campaign seeks to safeguard public spaces on campus, and to liberate corporate/privatized space so that it may be accessible to all. A huge component of this campaign is to oppose the University Blvd Development Plan in its entirety and essence (since its purpose is to make the centre of campus a corporate/private space to which students only have access as customers or condo owners/renters), and to replace this plan with one that maximizes public space and green space (keeps the grassy knoll), emphasizes student controlled space, makes the centre of campus car-free, and actually increases bus-ridership across the campus community.

I like the concept of free space and I agree that the feeling of student as customer is becoming stronger and stronger.

But from a non-political / activist perspective – I wondered why there were no people using the free space. Yes, it was a bit rainy outside and I imagine that couch being too wet to sit on but still…only information about the campaign was posted on the free speech board.

I took pictures and I felt a little awkward, like people were maybe watching or noticing me and I did not want to be noticed. It made me think about the personal barriers one would need to overcome to enjoy the free space.

Then I walked into the SUB and thought about the comfort people find in being a consumer. Spending money and receiving consumables and the right to be somewhere gives one purpose. To use free spaces, you need to make your own purpose. It will not be sold to you.

Members of groups like the one who organized this have their purpose – how can that purpose be distributed to everyone? Who will accept it if it means giving up comforts.

I imagine these groups face this problem all the time. I guess I am doing some inner reflection – why have I never gotten involved? Because it means giving up my comfort…

The problem is getting trapped by a framework. Enjoying its organization but in reality, the framework’s existence provides no benefit. In fact, it may be and likely is blinding you to other ways of thinking.

Then the scary thing is when you do realize that the framework is just a perception, one way to look at the picture. Unfortunately the first thought is usually not “oh yeah! this is a SHAM let’s move on!!” but the face winces and wonders – “oh how much did this sham eat? how many months has it been?”

I am writing a final report and feeling the above. The second part…I almost got to moving on but was stopped by the “how?” It is a little bit worsened by considering that this is not only applicable to research but to all areas of life.

But the thing that I must remember right now is that the small every-15-minute-what-was-I-thinking winces shouldn’t be giving me large I-should-stop-doing-stuff winces. No…they are all part of some learning / growing process that is life I guess. I have to consider that these winces make my life richer.

Y’all understanding the wince I’m talking about? I bite my lower lip and suck air in. What do you do?

But I guess most of the faces are smiling. That is good. Maybe I feel a little sad when I think about family-style in Japan but I have to remember that most of the sadness is rooted in the expectations I developed for what a family should be. These children likely have different expectations and are probably (hopefully) happy in life.

Heh – and my dad had a beard so I guess we could never use stumble as a “how hard is dad working” indicator anyway.

Things in this box have been slow. There is a lot I could potentially fill it with but it all seems too personal. Lately I’ve been debating whether it seems too personal because it is or because I am too scared and retreating into myself.

Or it might be because I don’t have Internet in my apartment or because of this whole actually being productive for most of an entire day thing.

I have thoughts of shutting things down, closing the box. But I don’t want to. I need an outlet. But is this it? Lately I am lacking a satisfying way to express myself. I am racking my brain to find out what that new way will be.

I am a little scared that it is just me getting older and jaded and not so expressive.

My song today (thanks to younger bro): Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s “The Skin of my Yellow Country Teeth”.