BGM: Pat Martino - Both Sides, Now
I worked late today. This morning, I tried to read a book or think something as usual, but couldn't - I can't see the reason why, but maybe it's because of this bad weather. So I gave up reading and thinking as a morning habit of mine, and started writing an English article as a homework activity.
On that paper, I wrote about my mental age. TBH, I often think about how old I am at the bottom of my mentality, because of the last English class's lesson (we had learned about various countries' birthday culture.) As I have written in this journal, I will be 49 this year but it is simply a really unbelievable fact for me. You would say I'm saying badly about myself too much, but I think I am still a kid in my mentality.
Looking back at my youthful, really dreadful days - and trying to see what has actually changed during this life. From a college student who loves britpop and techno music heavily to an old dude who listens to Par Martino's incredible jazz guitar playing. So, in a way I have changed actually. Does this mean I have grown up? I ask this to the sky, but it seems nothing answers to that question.
Loving to have snacks, eating sushi without wasabi, reading books which aren't useful for my job, etc... seeing these facts about me, I have to admit that I am still a child. And, when I was a kid I had been in a way aged at my mentality. A famous Japanese writer Ango Sakaguchi says that "everybody can get matured/aged when they grow up to adults (I tried to translate this idea of him into English)." Then, it's not strange that I can have gotten really, seriously aged when I have become an adult. Now, as I have written in here, I feel that I am living in a "first primetime" of my life.
I want to write this as a certain thanksgiving - on discord, MeWe and Facebook, many readers of this journal show me their kindness. Of course, I really appreciate it. But, tbh I can't see why this journal attracts them - I am just an ordinary employee of a department who loves Haruki Murakami and Ludwig Wittgenstein. Oh, life is really enigmatic and wonderful...
