We celebrated Scout’s adoption day last month, which for us is more significant than a birthday… because we don’t actually know when his birthday is. He was brought in as a stray, so his age was estimated based on the condition of his teeth, and the day he was brought in to the shelter was designated as his birthday. We still do some special things for his birthday, but his adoption day is far more important.
After all, that was the day that he adopted Birdie!
Scout has grown and flourished so much since I first brought him home, and we’ve both felt even happier since moving to a new apartment together where we have more space… and sunbeams! Scout never had sunbeams to nap in at our old apartment and always seemed to dislike the heat in general, but it seems he’s a typical cat after all, getting in at least a little bit of sunbathing every day.
He’s also completely fascinated by new our record player and loves to sit next to it to watch the vinyl spin when one is playing… or to stretch up on his hind legs to take a look. I finally finished building my first Gundam and its stand recently, and I wanted to display it on the record cover when it wasn’t being played… but Scout was way too interested in trying to steal the Gundam’s gun or tail parts, so I moved Aerial onto a high shelf in my bedroom instead lol.
After that dinner with my brother, I finally decided to do my research and found a great refurbished Audio Technica record player so that I could finally play the records I had preemptively bought in my own home. I really do love selecting a single vinyl to play the whole way through — even though I still love streaming services and my digital music player of choice (itunes) for creating playlists and discovering new songs. It’s just really satisfying to intentionally play music album by album again… and of course, to collect favourites.
This morning, we’re listening to the latest vinyl I’ve added to my collection: White Buffalo by Crown Lands. I’ve listened to this EP over and over since it was released and it’s utterly awesome every time. Highly recommend.
I write this entry before preparing to head out to the Writers of Ottawa meetup, coffee currently brewing. I’m about to make myself a mocha of sorts — my parents accidentally bought chocolate milk, and I have inherited it. They found out when my father went to pour milk into his cereal and got an unwelcome surprise lol. I find it too sweet to drink on its own, but it’s quite good when you add a bit to coffee, so that’s how I’m using it up.
Yesterday, auroras were actually visible all over Canada, and even further south into the States; I told my team at work that that would be the case… and then it completely slipped my mind to keep checking the sky after nightfall to catch sight of the lights. I’m a bit disappointed in myself for not setting alarms to remind myself, but there’s nothing to be done about that. I still remember seeing them once from my bedroom window at night when I was a teen. I’ll never forget that feeling of wonder…
Instead of watching for the northern lights, Scout and I took a bath. Well, I took a bath and Scout guarded me. He stayed at a distance at first, but curiosity got the better of him and he came up to the edge to look at the water, then spent the rest of the bath prowling along the edge of the bath, sitting up next to my shoulder like a little sentry upon a castle wall.
Ah. Coffee’s ready. I’ll end this entry with some recent photos of myself with and without makeup, and head off to do some writing/editing before the meetup. Take care, reader!
Above 20 degrees yesterday, it felt like the first proper day of summer, and so to take advantage of the good weather, I headed into Chinatown in order to meet up with my friend and fellow writer for a bit of an adventure.
Our first order of business was lunch at a panini restaurant tucked at the back of a building that had once been a coffee shop. According to the shop owners they had bought out the coffee shop’s space and were in the middle of renovations, which was why they were serving paninis out of the back door of their kitchen.
As we arrived, Sandstorm by Darude started playing over the speakers.
What a vibe lol.
We lined up and just before taking my order, they made the announcement that there were only 5 sandwiches left — we’d made it just in the nick of time! They make their bread fresh daily, so when they sell out, they just close up shop early for the day!
When we got our paninis, we were astonished to find that they were essentially the size of two regular-size sandwiches.
We sat on lawn furniture under the shade of a tree and chatted while we ate. We were discussing (among other things) how we want to enjoy aging, and find relative happiness (or at least fulfillment) at every new stage of life we attain. Growing old isn’t guaranteed for anyone. It’s a priviledge, and neither of us want to spend the latter half of our lives complaining about being one year older. Complaining about aches and pains? Of course! Grieving when we inevitably have a major change in mobility or life situation? Of course. But never complaining about getting to live a little longer, getting a bit more time to find moments of relative happiness within the life circumstances that we have on that day, for that moment. It’s not about forcing happiness or forcing undue, toxic levels of positivity. Never that. It’s about understanding that happiness looks different throughout your life, and that it’s something unique to you. A good life, or a good moment is defined differently for every person (though I think generally in great romantic relationships, partners generally agree on what a good life, and a moment of happiness feels like).
But I digress. The couple behind us had brought their tiny dog to the panini restaurant and the dog kept giving us the cutest little stares.
The next leg of our adventure featured a new vintage clothing store called The Last Unicorn which was run out of the back of an equally new place called Miam Miam General Store that sells vintage clothing along with home, grooming, and gourmet items made by local artisans.
I bought a cameo print fitted blazer with a skull and crossbones pin from The Last Unicorn, and I bought a see-through white linen dress with lace detail from Miam Mian General Store (it made me think of fairies, witch forest rituals, and 70s vampires so I had to have it).
Absolutely no way I can wear it out anywhere without some sort of slip underneath… and that made me love it even more. It’s the polar opposite of a black mesh and lace dress that I have!
Meanwhile, my friend bought two hand carved wooden vases, a handmade candle holder, and some locally roasted coffee beans… and pointed out an adorable candle in the shape of an open can of sardines that I think we were both tempted to get! Definitely a place we’d both like to go back to again.
Happy with our purchases, we then sought out a coffee shop we could relax in, opting for Art House Café, which neither of us had yet been to (surprisingly). The walls were filled with art absolutely everywhere, and each piece by a local artist was for sale; everywhere we turned, there was gorgeous art to look at. And the coffee was good too!
We talked excitedly about her upcoming first trip to Japan with her husband (which they have been eagerly planning and anticipating for years) and was so delighted by all the things they have booked to do (some michelin star restaurants, gourmet coffee tasting experiences, and a hidden speakeasy with coffee cocktails that she booked as a surprise for her husband lol!). I also gave her a few tips (use Seven Bank ATMs because they’re international card-friendly, go to Book Off, hunt down the cat museum in Nara, and go take a walk around Enoshima to spot some cats if you have a free afternoon you can’t decide how to fill)! We then spoke extensively about how much we love writing, but how gruelling editing and the subsequent querying and publishing process can be. She is going through it and I’ll be wading into those waters this year or the next. No matter how grueling parts of it can be, though, there was no question for either of us that the most important thing is being able to share our imagined worlds and characters with others through writing.
And if no one will give you a seat at their table, or if you realize that sitting at the table you’ve been invited to might not actually be best for you, you build your own.
While we both intended to leave a bit early to get some errands done (and for me to give Scout an early supper), once I’d walked her back to her car, we decided to sit in there and talk for “a few more minutes”… which ended up being nearly two hours.
We covered a ton of topics, but the one that stuck out in my mind was about unconditional love. She was explaining how someone she knew asserted that unconditional love doesn’t exist because it was impossible to love someone forever no matter what happened. We both agreed that that wasn’t an accurate understanding of what unconditional love is, and it took us a while to figure out how to articulate how we each conceptualize the difference between conditional and unconditional love.
She pointed out that unconditional love happens in the present. You don’t consider the past or future when you give someone unconditional love. You love them as they are, in the moment. I agree with that. Logically, you can’t promise you’ll love someone forever. But you can honestly tell someone that you truly love them as they are in that moment, on that day. And you re-confirm your love for them every day, and in every moment. It’s not something fixed or restrictive, it’s a living, breathing emotion that ebbs and flows, and adapts throughout your life. You’re allowed to change and grow, and you can fall out of love… sometimes that happens naturally, and it’s sad, but it’s okay. But that’s exactly what makes staying in love so particular a state of being. You don’t make one rigid promise or make one rigid decision or realization. You make countless tiny decisions, countless tiny affirmations, countless tiny shows of affection, countless tiny promises, countless tiny shows of support… and you freely choose to give that person love over and over again. That’s far more meaningful than one grand declaration or promise.
I added that unconditional love and conditional love start in different ways. Unconditional love is freely given at the outset and encourages a person to be who they are — it is love for who a person IS. Conditional love requires that certain conditions be met at the outset and throughout a relationship in order for love to be given, and it is love for what a person DOES or provides. The love can be withheld as a bargaining chip, almost. Didn’t get straight As in school? Didn’t buy them expensive enough jewelery? You get no affection until you get better grades, buy them something expensive enough, etc.
Unconditional love ends when there is a hurt too great to be mended, or when too big a boundary is crossed. The love is never withheld, the relationship just ends.
The nuance is small, but important.
Then again, the concept of love itself is so deep and nuanced that our species will likely never stop examining it in art and conversation. How I understand and describe it now will undoubtedly change ten years from now, when I have even more life experience to drawn from.
Uncontitional love and the realistic romance of countless tiny choices, affirmations, and shows of support is what I aim for though. A love breathing, in flux.
We always talk each others’ ears off when we meet up, and this day was no different! But at last, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I hope she has an incredible trip, and I imagine that, like me, she’ll just end up wanting to go back!
I went to visit my brother for supper yesterday bringing homemade chocolate chip cookies (his request), a new bottle of whisky (Toki), and the t-shirt he had left at my apartment back in February when it had gotten soaked with sweat and he’d taken it off to dry. Scout wasn’t too pleased that he’d had to stay home and miss the get-together, but he forgave me when I got home later that night and set out a delicious supper for him.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I went to see Miss Pearl as soon as I got there, who was snoozing on top of the bed instead of hiding under it, and who was just as pleased to see me as I was to see her.
My brother made a very tasty roast with mini potatoes as a side and we sampled a range of whiskies while discussing his upcoming wedding, and how we each felt very at home in our new jobs, all the while listening to a bunch of his records (too many to remember all of them properly, but to give a general sense of what was playing, we started with a Led Zeppelin record and later switched to one by Gordon Lightfoot).
He brought up the DNA results we got earlier this year as well (40% French, then English, Scottish, Germanic, and Irish, in descending order), and we ended up both agreeing that despite living in Ontario, we both identify not as Franco-Ontarien, but as part-Quebecois due to the dialect and culture that we grew up with. Of course I experienced selective mutism for almost all of my childhood and part of my adulthood where speaking in French was concerned, but my brother didn’t have that issue, and I’m slowly recovering my communication skills in part thanks to my new job. He lamented the fact that his kid(s) wouldn’t get to grow up visiting a family farm the way we did, and I reminded him that they’d get to have new traditions (like visiting a cottage) — and assured him that I look forward to being a Weird Aunt in the future.
Inevitably we strayed into more serious topics (I educated him on on the genocide unfolding in Gaza), and he got me to open up about a few personal things I hadn’t yet told him, offering both emotional support and advice that came very clearly from the heart.
He made me a latte as the night wore on, and then we had a bit of a laugh recalling the time our parents had discovered my brother smoking weed and the absolute meltdown that had ensued in the house. He looked over at me with a bit of wince and a chuckle, held out his fist for a fist bump and said, “thanks for the assist, sis.” This was referring to how I had educated our mother at the time on all the latest research about how weed was said to have the most benefits with fewest side effects of all the drugs my brother could have chosen to indulge in. Because my brother had been absolutely baked outta his mind when he’d been “discovered” that evening and hadn’t been able to advocate for himself. I was annoyed with him for causing such upheaval in the house… but I was even more annoyed at how illogical and disproportionate the crying and yelling itself was, considering the fact that weed is relatively safe. And now that it’s entirely legal, the whole drama has grown even funnier in memory.
I also explained to him that throughout my childhood, I was terrified of flushing the toilet because of a scary flushing incident (air in the pipes one day caused water to gurgle and spew upwards after I flushed) when I was about 5 or 6 — which he hadn’t known about. Obviously. Back then I definitely didn’t go around telling people that I had flushing-phobia and imagined the toilet roaring to life and gobbling me up as a child! He didn’t laugh, he just stared in disbelief and raised his eyebrow as I described my old process: close the toilet lid, wash hands, unlock the door, open the door wide, shut off the light, flush the toilet and — DASH AWAY!! Yeah… that’s not an exaggeration lol. I did that routine for years until I became a teenager and finally conquered the irrational fear.
My brother and I are two incredibly different people, but as I always say, he truly is a good man. Surprisingly old school and crotchety in some respects lol, but a good man. I’ll never forget that when we were kids one year, he insisted to our parents on using some of the money he’d saved to buy me a birthday cake. Considering that it was during a year where I had experienced a lot of upheaval in friendships at home and at school, it had meant a lot. Despite being the older sibling, I’d been the one tagging along with him and his friends, and they’d actually welcomed me. We’d even willingly shared a bedroom and a bunk bed in middle school (my bedroom had sat abandoned), spending our free time playing a GameCube we’d bought together and then a PS2 on a tiny TV in his (our) room. There had been a lot of Sonic Adventure 2 Battle missions, a LOT of Smash Bros Melee and Soul Calibur II tournaments, and countless Gauntlet Dark Legacy campaigns. I used to read him books before going to bed; he’d look down at me from the top bunk, where I sat in his computer chair, doing the voices to whatever book I was reading, my feet propped up on the mattress in my bottom bunk. We used to lie in each of our bunks and play Gameboy too, usually Pokémon Silver/Crystal or YuGiOh. We’d started out having to share a single Gameboy Colour and a single copy of Pokémon Silver–imagine having to negotiate who got to play when, which starter to choose (we agreed on Cyndaquil the first time, but I stuck with Totodile for every playthrough after that), and which Pokémon to raise to create our main questing/gym parties! Thankfully, a year or two later, we had acquired a Gameboy Advance as well. It was only two to three years we shared a bunk bed, but those were some of my favourite childhood memories — and considering the things I had gone through around that age, I think it meant more to me than it had to him. Even after I moved back into my own room, I still visited his room in order to play video games. I’m grateful that kid welcomed me into his space, his friendships, and his life like that during those years. We grew very distant as teenagers and young adults… but we’re making up for it now.
I could really go for a Gauntlet Dark Legacy campaign again.
Just for old times’ sake.
(I always mained as the early-unlockable sorceress-style character medusa! My brother mained as the warrior or jester, and his best friend who often joined us mained as the wizard — best augments were the phoenix familiar and being turned into Pojo the fireball-spewing chicken, obviously).
One day when I was a kid, we were invited over to the house of our neighbours for a birthday party. Like us, they were a family of four, and though the kids were a little older than my brother and I, we often played together. It was one of their parents’ birthdays so it was a fairly normal sort of playdate for us… except for the fact that we were being allowed to stay up way past our bedtime. I distinctly remember that experiencing 7 or 8pm as a sheltered 5 or 6 year old that night was very exciting, let me tell you.
I distinctly remember the occasion for another reason, too: it was the first time I heard about a dessert called “cheesecake”.
In my mind, that meant the adults were about to eat a wheel of cheese (likely cheddar) covered in cake frosting.
I was appalled.
And worse, my mother was downright delighted that they were having cheesecake to celebrate the neighbour’s birthday.
The horror!
I bring this up, because even though I grew older and learned that cheesecake was a delicate, sweet dessert and not a literal wheel of hard cheese covered in frosting, I had never been able to get over the mental block of revulsion that had sprung up at my first encounter of the concept.
Until this week, smack-dab in my thirties.
I finally gave in and purchased a small matcha cheesecake from a Japanese bakery downtown.
Voilà.
Verdict: it was… alright.
I wish I could say something less anticlimactic than that. It was okay. My taste buds didn’t revolt. I’m sure this was an exceptional cheesecake that I was just too uncultured to fully appreciate. It tasted nice. It was fluffy.
Here is unrelated photo of a cute dog statue in a shop window to alleviate the awkwardness of this blog entry:
After many evenings of sitting by candlelight by my kitchen window to edit, I was finally able to complete my latest short story and submit it for consideration in an anthology (I’ll say which one after I get a response, either way!). I wrote the best horror piece I possibly could, incorporating locations and elements that were deeply meaningful to me, so I can only hope that the editor or slush reader connects with it. It certainly got under my skin as I was writing it. No matter the outcome, it feels good to put a piece forward and truly try again.
In a few days I’ll be sitting the N1 and while I have been studying, I’m not sure I’ll be able to pass the exam this time around. I set studying to the side a bit to finish the short story, and also because I felt too exhausted to really take in any of the new vocabulary I was trying to learn. I’m back to studying now that I’m in the home stretch, and even though I’m still not quite at the level to pass yet, hopefully sitting the exam will give me an idea of which things I should focus on before retaking the exam in the new year.
At least I’ll get to complete the build of this cool Gundam platic model (my first in years), no matter the outcome of the submission or the exam. I’m hopeful though.
Building a Gundam is certainly one way to relax, but this month I have also indulged in playing video games, going to cafés to read, dressing in favourite outfits, and eating a lavish meal at a favourite restaurant (table for one please!).
Much as I love luxuriating in a bath or a good face mask, that level of grooming and pampering is something I can only enjoy when I’m already feeling relaxed. Much like Scout, I enjoy baths, but I hate drying off afterwards haha.
I normally don’t read heavily when I’m writing, but I’ve been breaking that convention liberally these past two months. When I attended CAN*CON in October I bought a ton of physical books for the first time in a long time and have been working my way through them. Been reading a book by one of my fellow local writers (Treasure of the Tides), and I’ve also returned to reading センチメンタルワールズエンド in earnest after getting myself a physical copy. This is not to mention all the digital books I’ve bought recently… and the books borrowed from the library (currently listening to Pageboy by Elliot Page and feeling grateful that I get to hear such a candid memoir by a trans, queer artist whose work I have admired for many years — it’s heartening that he has reached a point in his life where he felt at home enough in his body that he could tell it).
Much as I love the atmosphere and mechanics of Elden Ring, I still suck at it and am too exhausted to be able to handle the constant failure right now in order to get better (lol), so for the moment I’ve switched to a JRPG called Tales of Arise (which I bought at BOOK OFF at the same time as Elden Ring) so that I can feel like I’m making progress. So far, I’m enjoying the mechanics and the storyline; it’s relaxing to go back and play a linear game once in a while — no branching choices, no open world.
I envision spending a good amount of time hibernating and gaming with Scout this winter… I brought him out in his backpack for his first snowfall the other day, come to think of it. He was mesmerized.
There were some incredibly good deals lately, so along with the latest tour Bluray and some goods, I also got lots of second hand ALICE NINE. merch, including band t-shirts, towels (for the bathroom!), and a huge stack of magazine clippings containing a bunch of articles I’d never seen before! Very excited to comb through it slowly in December, once the exam is over. I added a Discothèque-era Saga scorpion to my usual gin-tape bag charm. I attached my new ALICE NINE. lanyard to my work ID, and the Farewell Flowers artbook is easily one of my favourites… the photos are gorgeous (The ocean, the colour tone, the framing, Saga emphasizing his adam’s apple…♪), and the last page with its inscription and signatures was so heartfelt, I wanted to cry, remembering the last tour I got to attend. Thank you for existing, アリス九號.
Here’s my latest little sketch from the other day… writing that horror piece clearly influenced the tone of my drawing.
I haven’t done much in the way of cooking from scratch these past few weeks, but I did finally turn my yearly pumpkins into purée (with a pumpkin bread to follow in December, I hope), and I made a Japanese-style breakfast last weekend, as well as a few other tasty dishes when I had the energy. In terms of food, I am once again getting obsessed with soup because ’tis the season.
This month was difficult, in the sense that I had an anxiety attack at work, and that my chest pain got quite bad at points. But there’s been real improvement in my ribcage according to my doctor (finally!), and I took these last few days of the month off to study for the exam and decompress both physically and emotionally, so I hope to end the year on a good note, in less pain.
Last but not least, I’d like to emphasize that genocide is not an act of self-defense. There is a temporary, tenuous ceasefire over Gaza at present, but that by no means has stopped the ongoing violence and oppression towards the Palestinians caught in that open air prison. Many of whom are children. Many of whom are already sick or injured. Most deaths have been to noncombattants, residential areas obliterated. The ceasefire must be permanent to allow humanitarian aid to flow unimpeded into the region, to allow anyone to safely leave the warzone, and to allow hostages on both sides to be returned safely. It is egregious to use innocent human beings as scapegoats and as bargaining chips, just as it is egregious to imprison children and innocent adults without due process or due cause. If Hamas must be brought to account for their October attack, then the Israeli government must also be brought to account for their disproportionate violence and oppression before and after the fact. To weigh these actions against international law is logical and reasonable.
My heart goes out to everyone caught in the warzone — which is to say their homes — their loved ones, livelihoods, and everything around them being destroyed.
If you have the means and would like to help in the effort to bring humanitarian aid to the inncents, the noncombattants currently caught in the crossfire in Gaza, here are some donation resources:
A govenment’s and its military’s atrocious acts of violence against a civilian population does not justify any retaliatory acts of antisemitism elsewhere. Period. That government operates under an extremist sect of the religion (Zionism) and does not speak for or represent Judaism as a whole. Using that government’s violent conduct as an excuse to carry out antisemitic violence elsewhere is unacceptable and unconscionable. Just as it is unacceptable and unconscionable to carry out islamophobic acts of violence.
Almost 2 weeks ago, I visited Airo at Obscura Tattoo to get a very sentimental piece done. Having seen the quality of her fine line work, I reached out to her a while back to see if she would take my project on, and I was honoured when she replied to say she would.
As it happened, the next appointmemt slot that worked for me was on Halloween! Pretty epic way to spend the holiday, right? Not least because the tattoo was meant to commemorate my dearly departed cat Whiskers.
Ever since she passed away, I’d wanted to get her pawprints tattooed on my right thigh; whenever I was sitting at my computer, she always used to come and brace her forepaws against my thigh in order to stretch up and cuddle into my belly or nuzzle my arm, and then she’d stare pointedly at me with her big beautifully green eyes and meow. She had such silky-soft, thick brown fur, and the sweetest little black toe beans. When I winked at her, she would wink back. On weekend mornings, especially, if I wasn’t getting out of bed, she would snuggle in with me, purring loudly to soothe us both.
She was my baby, supporting me emotionally through a very difficult period of my life, and her death devastated me. For many years after, I could hardly bear to talk about her or look at her pictures (or even other cats), and had had no intention of ever adopting another cat, but with time… certain hurts have healed. I like to think she’d have an exasperated sort of affection for her exhuberant, fastidious little brother Scout. Finally getting her inky, smudged pawprints tattoed on my leg was like preserving the echo of her love on my skin. It was making visible a ghostly touch I have felt ever since she left.
It was a serene experience…
I was both touched and impressed by how intently Airo kept checking the reference pawprints to make sure she captured all the ink smudging and pinpricks as faithfully as possible. I so very much appreciate the care she took.
The tattoo is healing well so far, and every time I look down at the pawprints on my thigh, I just feel such a sense of tenderness for Whiskers, and all the love and comfort she gave me while she was alive. I’m so lucky she chose me as her human, and stayed with me for 17 years.
Scout needed food yesterday so I got ready to run that errand and figured I might as well put on some makeup and turn the outing into a solo date at a café. Of course, as these things do, one thing led to another, and my original errand spawned several side quests.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I woke up to this sweet little baby angel (and occasional fluffy mischief-maker) cuddled up next to me in bed and after a good bit of reading, got up to start the day. The book? センチメンタルワールズエンド by 武瑠, which I have finally been able to return to after setting it aside for a while — my studying in the interim has made it much easier to understand. Not every word individually, obviously, but I’m much better able to understand sentences as a whole without having to know every word in them. I’m enjoying it so far, enjoying the descriptions and dialogue especially — the conversations have a natural feel to them (at least from my non-native speaker perspective…).
The pie pumpkins sitting on the kitchen table will have to wait another week or two before getting turned into baked goods because my mind is currently set on working through my third big edit of The Everyforest — which is what I set my mind to again after my early morning of reading.
I’ve already renamed the first chapter, added an extra passage, and reworked a lot of the wording. It’s something I should have done originally, but I still hadn’t let go of the idea that it needed to stay as it had been in order to match the audio narration. But the story had morphed so greatly between the first chapter and the last that it truly needed to be reshaped. And so the audio narration is a preservation of the story’s original draft, but the ebook/print will diverge from it quite a bit.
The days are getting colder, to the point where it may start snowing in the next few weeks so despite the looming rain and general chill, I made a point to leave my coat at home. One last hurrah.
After stocking up on food for Scout, I started walking home, keeping my eyes peeled for any cozy-looking cafés along the way, and instead found myself walking into a comic book shop. I’d intended to buy a Gundam Plastic Model kit, but they didn’t carry any that I wanted to build and I instead ended up perusing the shelves of graphic novels… and selecting a few that were on sale. I own a ton of comics and graphic novels, but in digital format, so it was a bit of a pleasure to indulge in physical copies for once.
Wet Moon, volume 3
The Last Book You’ll Ever Read
Beautiful Darkness
When I went back outside, the temperature felt as though it had dropped further. I took refuge indoors again, this time heading to Uniqlo with a mind to buy myself another top like the one I’d had on… but of course, it was already well out of season, so I had no luck there.
Until I noticed, lined up on a shelf, a little contigent of Doraemon plushies. Oh, the cuteness! I walked past.
And then I doubled back and picked one to bring home with me. I simply couldn’t resist. I paid for my magical little friend, feeling rather gleeful about the unexpected find (and the fact that I had bought the only thing in the store that wasn’t clothing of some kind), and made a beeline for the exit.
Finally, it was raining.
I thought I could make it to the café before it started pouring, but I barely had time to put up my umbrella before the rain started pelting the pavement.
I was a tiny bit soaked when I reached the café… but no worse for wear.
And very much in need of the peanut butter cookie and mocha I bought.
I didn’t start drinking coffee or tea regularly until I was in my late twenties and had severe social anxiety, so I never really developed a habit (an indulgence) of going to cafés or coffee shops on my own to read or study. It’s something I’m learning to enjoy now that the pandemic has ended and my anxiety is no longer severe — I wish I could share that sense of quiet mental freedom with my younger self who was petrified of being in the wider world alone, constantly worried about invisible social rules, scripts, and unknown spaces.
I sat in front of the window, listened to music, read a bit of one of the graphic novels, read a bit of an ebook.
I love the feeling of being cozy and warm indoors, watching rain falling out the window.
When I finally got home, shoes and umbrella dripping, Scout immediately swarmed me at the door, eager not only to sniff at what I’d bought but also to remind me that his suppertime was Very Soon. When Scout noticed our new friend sitting nonchalantly on the reading chair, he snuck up behind him and… caught Doraemon with his paw!
Then he went back to enjoying his supper.
Doraemon, meanwhile, mysteriously teleported to the living room couch, where he is still sitting as I type this… as far as I’m aware.
What kinds of things does Scout dream about? What wakes him up with a sudden jolt? What little phantasmagoric entities does he spy out of the corners of his eyes in the unassuming nooks and crannies of the room?
As I was writing that dramatic little paragraph burrowed under a blanket in bed, Scout suddenly leapt up onto the bed, nipped one of my forearms, chirped, and then leapt back off the bed before I could react or catch him.
Now he’s observing me from the lower level of his cat tree.
That cute little mothafluffa.
He loves to tap me with his paw or nip one of my limbs and dash away — his version of playing tag. Now he’s back, preparing to tackle my arm until I say uncle and give him his supper.
After a very sleepy morning, the ホームBASS received a delightful surprise when two packages arrived at the door. Scout was immediately excited to climb to the summit of the boxes and I had to distract him with some crinkly paper to be able to lure him away long enough to open them.
Saga praying up at the moon and some aliens on the back of the new hoodie is everything. I love the whole idea behind it, and it’s definitely going to be keeping me warm and comfy at home during the winter. The new shirt is so much more textured and vibrant in tone than I had expected — I love it. It’s the kind of piece you can interpret a little differently every time you look at it because of all the little details that have been incorporated into the collage. What shall I pair the shirt with to form an outfit…? ♡♪
沙我くんの特典ビデオカッコよかった…
Saga lounging on a couch after a hot live, footage of him playing bass, kissing and licking 焔ちゃん’s neck after a solo… heaven. 💋🗻
I felt so inspired and energetic after holding those pieces in my hands and trying them on that I decided to make お弁当 for tomorrow instead of my usual sandwich 😋 not that it in any way approaches the coolness and beauty of those clothing pieces… お弁当が可愛い系だからね 笑
💜🍴For supper, tonight’s ホームBASS special was pierogis with greek yogurt instead of sour cream. Yes, I’ve increased my ability to eat yogurt! My body needs those sweet, sweet probiotics… it also needs sweets. And naps.
Last weekend I met up with my fellow local writers to discuss symbolism — next weekend, for the first time ever, I am going to participate in the “Canada Army Run” (though I’ll be walking). I grew up an army brat and work in the national defence sector now, so it seemed fitting…
Here’s Scout sitting strangely on the couch next to a photo of the adorable Shishamo coin purse design. Cuties.
