I worked late today. This morning, I tried to enjoy a Japanese book about Heidegger, "Heidegger's Care for the World [後藤嘉也『世界を気遣うハイデガー』]". However, although the book's content/discussion was quite interesting, I couldn't concentrate on it. So, I needed to do this task: To let out the things I had in my mind (or, in other words, to "vent") on the memo pad I always carry. It must sound so dirty, but to me, this task must have been needed as going to a bathroom to let out completely.
Since 11 a.m., I have been writing various ideas on my memo pad in English as usual. Who is (or what is) this existence that is writing such complicated things here? However, even though I tried to capture the core of my existence, I found that there must have been very plain pieces of my primal memories. For example, probably my first memory is at about 4 years old: at that time, even though the reason or situation had been completely enigmatic, I looked up at my house from the root of a slope.
BTW, why have I started having an interest in philosophy? Looking back to my past days, I once hated it so heavily that I just tried to separate any philosophical books away from my side. Nietzsche, Heidegger, Wittgenstein... As I have written in this journal, once I had very low self-esteem and therefore hurt my mind terribly (however, maybe because it had come from the school bullying in my teenage days), and so I couldn't enjoy reading any classical books because these classics sounded too great for me to enjoy.
On a new social media mixi2, a member of a philosophical community (I also belong to) gave me advice that said I must create a new community about love. As you already know, I am 49 however still single with no kids. In a way, although from the viewpoint of how old I am, I am already too old, but I have never learned what love could be, maybe. But now, I can feel I have found a "clue" to understanding it. This warmth I can feel already makes me move toward various important friends. That can be a sort of love (at least, in my opinion).
