Monday July 22, 1991
Dear Melissa, (It feels odd to address a letter to myself -- sort of like Dear Diary.)
I know that you will receive this after I arrive [in Austin], but I DON'T CARE! At 12:20 today, the last of 32(!) boxes was packed, taped, labeled, and triple-checked. At 16:00 three jokers showed up to truck them away. After years of helping my mother pack, I've developed a healthy mistrust of moving company flunkies. That's why I've spent so much time wrapping and rewrapping, putting boxes in boxes and fitting everything together as if it were a giant Chinese puzzle box. Still, my face blanched as these three began tossing boxes around.
But the boxes are gone. A burden is lifted. I am free tocdo what? Go shopping!
I was about to hop on my bike when Aya Sato's (former student) boyfriend showed up. He explained that Sato-san was unable to say goodbye to me because her college had a school festival this week, so she sent him in her place. (All of this in Japanese and I understood it!)
On my way to Tokiwa, ran into some of my second-year students, out of uniform now that it's summer vacation. One of my boys looks like a gang member. I point an accusing finger at him and he does a fake double-take. "Ah, Marissa-sensei." Sort of nice to still live in a town where people on the street know you by name.
TANGENT: I was standing in line at Toyomi when a bee landed on the head of the man in line in front of me. The man's hair was thinning and he had grown it long to hide the bare spots. I watched as the bee burrowed into a tunnel of hair and then brushed its little bee hands together as if praying before a meal. I began waving my hands slowly over his head so as not to excite him or the bee and saying (in English), "Sir. There's a bee on your head." He and the check-out clerk gave me peculiar looks. But I knew that that bee was about to bite and I persisted. Then the bee flew up. "Hora!" I pointed at it. The clerk and man nodded and smiled. Life went on. I wish I could hear the old man's version of this story. "I was standing in line at Toyomi when this crazy gaijin woman began shouting and waving her hand over my head as if to strike mec"
I feel like a character in a fairy tale: having journeyed to the mysterious Orient I await my ship to bring back my wealth. I can't believe that I've bought so much stuff. I remember when I supported myself and Joseph on $10,000 a year. Now it's my pocket money.
I am certainly tired of inventorying the lot (for the customs forms). Usually when I can't think in words, I take refuge in numbers. Had I lived in the past, I would have been a steward.
I've neither seen nor talked to anyone. I need to have some quiet transitional time. I watched Bad Influence. A very disturbing movie. I didn't love it, but I liked it a lot.
Posted by M Sinclair Stevens
April 03, 2005
Comments
Like your blog! :) Good stuff. About kanji study, I can totally relate. The way I learned to recognize (as opposed to WRITING - a whole different ball game) about 2,000 o' them bad boys in two years was through the unglamorous method of copying them over and over (like 50 times) on a line of notebook paper, saying their readings to myself, and forming my own visual associations. I was 29 when I started learning Japanese. Wonder how I would fare if I were starting my study now, at the age of 42!
Comment by: dragonfly jenny. Posted April 24, 2005 07:54 PM.
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I wish I could hear the old man's version of this story.