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monologue Feb, 2004
‘0213
I have to say to myself that my life doesn't have to be dramatic all the time, and control myself not to waste time by being just dreamy and too romantic.
I don't like to think about something materialistic, but it might be the shortcut to realization of dream.
It's unbearable for me to think like that life is consisted of a pile of money, but it could be helpful for self-discipline if I try to think it a bit more important to make money.
The most required thing is the harmonic conjunction of the material and the spiritual.
Anyway, I should be more diligent, and at the same time, I'll try to make every day enjoyable and beautiful.
‘0202-0204
I have the clock inside.
It's as big as hesitant fist, as old as not my physical existence but my soul, a bit cranky, fancy, but fine one.
Sometimes it sends me energy to advance by winding, sometimes it keeps me stand still or even makes me crouch down to listen to the voice of it carefully.
When I came back to Japan from my 1 year lasted journey in New Zealand, I felt like the clock had become rusty with no mercy.
I was confused, then started asking for the impossible, and tried to cling to the world like the waking dream once I was actually wandering in it.
It was felt like I was forced to wake up the moment the giant crushed the clock in its hand suddenly.
The clock of mine stopped, got a crack in it, the hands of it twisted, and it was squeaking sadly without going.
I tried to go. I made efforts to accept.
I tried to be thankful to common things around me. I walked around looking for the beautiful and colorful pieces of stone on the ground I know well though they can't be jewels for me. I also got the new job that must be helpful and useful experience for me.
But, most of the time, I was just drawing the plan of making the utopia that is too much fantastic.
I was welcomed back to the reality.
Yes, I was received warmly indeed, but I couldn't feel comfortable to be in the lukewarm water.
It could be rather much more appreciated for me to be thrown in the stormy Ocean.
The water will get muddy, if you're just floating up and down in the small tank.
You'll have difficulty in breathing, so you struggle, become dreamy, then, finally, you might choose to be spoiled and weakened.
It might also be possible to forget the world that is full of streams of fresh light and water, once you love to live.
Maybe it's true that some kind of fish can be content with their lives to be given with the chubby bodies and the eyes that seem like they don't really see anything...it's just like a bad joke!
The story is the true fantasy if those fish are really content and happy without the eagerness for the feelings of choosing and acquiring.
Is it really possible for fish to forget beautiful and fresh light and water?
While I was waiting, I felt uneasy and impatient, but, at the same time, I knew that I can't go without hearing the voice of the alarm clock said to me "Now!"
The clock sometimes seemed to move, but it was so unstable that one day it moved forward, the other day it moved back.
I was wavering between the expectation of getting something new and the lingering attachment for the past.
I've been thinking which is more painful to forget or remember, then, the die is cast, finally.
I haven't got the answer yet, but, once I felt the sign, I should obey it. The voice doesn't allow me to hesitate any more. It's heard a bit strict this time, and it makes me feel apprehensive.
I'm going with little sadness.
I don't mention that I'm not happy to go. I might be just nervous or...am I scared?
It's just, you know, a bit sad to go to the next door.
My ultimate hope is that I might be able to reach the utopia someday in the world which is called "reality".
Yes, that's the reason to go. I'll keep my chin up and telling me the word "Go for it!"
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