Haven't sat down and written an entry for the actual site not pasted directly from my unrelated journaling in such a long while. Been busy. Been studying. The time's passed so fast and the new year rolls about in only now a week. Give or take a few days. In the summer I had thought the December to be so far from me, that then my hair would be at the desired length. Yet the time passes anyway. Then my mother said I looked like an otaku, or something, and wouldn't pass my very important coming interview so it had to be cut. So much for that. I'll be becoming a high schooler and been actually studying with some goal in mind instead of aimlessly. Rare for me to do.
A lot has occurred during this little year and I remember on the 31st of December the last year. My friend messaged me in tears how much she appreciated me. I could only feign equal appreciation because at the earnestness, I didn't know how to respond. We didn't speak too much this year until a few days ago. She's white so despite that she had only recently turned fourteen-- I was shocked by this— I'm turning soon fifteen myself– and that she's a regular athlete, a boxer, I believe, she's much taller than I am. And she does some neat things with planes with the intention to follow in the generational pursuit of aerospace, is polylingual, and is for a project of community service designing a turbine. Basically, she rocks, she shines, despite how it seems that life goes out of its way to be unkind to her. She said to me while we were calling, “We've been friends now for three years.” Three years? I didn’t believe it. “And during that time I’ve noticed about you; you're a genius, [Mavk], you're a genius!” It’s one thing to be told by overlooking teachers that, and another to be told by a friend I felt always as though I was no good to, and that I have put such little into appearing any certain way to. I've been mulling it over. Genius, huh. Perhaps the word is levied too lightly.
I haven’t attended school as usual this week due to the coughing and noises and one of the teachers of the rooms in which “special” children are taught said to me, as I described my state, that “you have some kind of mental disease.” Imagine the word “mental disease” under a heavy Japanese accent for comedic effect. “Mental disease ga aru….” The translation of what it was in specific she believed I was diseased by was “hypersensitivity”, and perhaps she'd see to it that I can utilize the rooms for the “special kids”. My mom insists “I’m not like that” and the homeroom teacher insists, well, he says so quite jovially, but that, “That’s a little bit… chyoto selfish desu ne…” It’s either I follow along as I should or go home, though when phrased like this it seems a little harsh. They’re kind people.
Recently, I’m not really sure why I did, but I read a whole volume on Chanoyu; the politics behind tea-caddies and kakemono and the shrubbery appropriate for the outer gardens of the teahouses and such, so now when admiring ceramics, I come across like some sort of collector. My mother says I inherited that disease, the fondness of odd old things, from my father. “Because he’s a lunatic.” Apparently my borderline neurotic punctuality and exacting is too “a disease” passed down by my father. And it may be terminal, I fear. (A joke.) He told me then about how in his childhood, he said to his mother to wake him at six as he intended to read something at that time, but when the morning came and my grandmother went into her sleeping son’s room and found him sound asleep, with pity, she left him be to wake at his own time. Eight o’ clock, he woke and finding himself two hours tardy, his entire day’s schedule out of balance, he cursed existence. His week, his month, his year, his entire life has been thrown off balance and wasted. And my mother said, overhearing this, “I didn't know this was a trait of yours.” “Well, I had remedied it when we had then met. But I suppose I couldn’t hide it forever for it was passed on over.” “I hadn’t had in mind this when I married you and for being deceived, I’ll ask for a fee. I didn’t expect I’d be dealing with such lunatics.”
I’ve been writing now for longer than I intended and feel as though I’m not done with what it is I want to say. But I shall now return to studying before my day and week and month and year and life are thrown “off balance and wasted”.