Summer Blog Post - #6

A lyric has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, and as I spend most days doing nothing more but laying on my couch staring at the ceiling or the wall above my television, I really started to think about it more;

"Waiting for the night to change your ways
There are days missing from my week again"

Typical of me for it to be a Sugar Ray song. I'm aware the song also isn't written about anything even close to the issues I've been facing recently--I passed my media analysis classes--I should know. Either way, another week has gone by. There are also certainly days missing from it. This has been a constant for a couple weeks, maybe months now. I once again figured it was about Wednesday when it's Saturday, and my sense of time is rotting along with me.

Something I don't see mentioned much, if not at all, is that you never fully conquer depression. You can lift yourself out of it and live happier in longer spurts, but you do change. What comes with it is depressive habits mapping themselves onto you. Before you know it, the smallest things will trigger it to come back, like someone suddenly throwing a sack over your head. It's dark, scary, and can really startle you at first which can cause you to do stupid things. For me, that's usually ordering a pizza and chugging a bottle of sake over some romance anime, or sometimes with me sitting on the floor of my room watching out the window instead. I've become pretty addicted to a Domino's pizza with garlic parmesan sauce, extra cheese, and lite pepperoni as my go-to. 

I've slacked on my 日本語 studies, barely worked out, and have done terribly with my "no eating out" rule I made for this Summer. The only one of the four sticky-notes I put on my desk as reminders I kept up with is the weekly blog post. Given, I have to blame my bikes breaking for this. When I get to bike, I feel great and my days flow so much better. I had been planning on using this Summer to bike daily and was so excited for it. Having the bike break on the second day of Summer gutted me. Having the other bike break on its first ride a month later pushed that knife even deeper. My father's lethargic way of taking care of his share of things in this house that aren't his garden or paying contractors to put new additions into our home have kept this pause going longer. He told me he was taking the bikes to a repair shop and "having them fix everything on them" weeks ago, and yet they still sit broken in the garage. Unfortunately, I'm way too much of a coward to bring it up to him. I will suffer in silence, until I type those feelings away on this keyboard and blog.

I feel like a disgusting cretin. I don't leave my bedroom. Most of the time my curtains are shut. I'm living like I always had before I worked so hard to improve myself. The only difference now is the embracement of a hikikomori lifestyle, with hiki-scruff grown on my pale unmoisturized face, and my long messy hair to top it off. I feel pathetic. I am pathetic. I live in fear of myself and the immediate world around me (which would just be family, I suppose). Maybe this is why I look out into the rest of the world for comfort, to remind myself that there is hope for me out there. This is partially what drives me to finish college and leave. I really want a pizza right now. Unfortunately I paid my phone bill and now have an over-drafted bank account. The end of August can't get here fast enough for me to start working again.

It's weird though. When you're in these situations you find the good with the bad, but that can often leave you feeling confused as to how or where that conclusion comes from. I want to leave here and find a new life elsewhere in the world, but at the same time I've finally taken the time to find the beautiful in the area I live in and find it nostalgic as well as disconsolate. Do I want to leave or not? Am I appreciating the environment before I never see it again, or feeling dread that there's a possible future I never stop seeing it? It frightens me, as a lot of things do.

Anyways, quick horror story for the night. Remember to check your toilet paper before you wipe or you might find a bug in your unnameables. Thank the world for bidets to save the day. Learn from my mistakes.

My stomach and throat feel tingly after I had dinner. I think it felt this way after lunch as well. I've been getting, what I assume is, bad acid reflux. I'm sweaty as the Summer heat fills my room, a solitary fan doing it's best to fight this losing battle. My hair is greasy after the day, ready for a shower tomorrow morning. My clothes feel sticky, and my chair uncomfortably fondling my bottom. Everything feels like a losing battle. I'm filling in that space with some music I have downloaded onto my computer. Winamp still comes in clutch, and the current song is "Feel Good Inc." by Gorillaz.

This song feels like an anthem for this icky mood and physical feeling. But with it, there's hope for a possibility of something better. 

Funny story with it. When I was a small child, I had my weird token "kid gimmick" that all kids have. Mine was a hate for music, I assume because of my embarrassment I constantly felt in my elementary music class, and probably something at home considering my whole family is made up of highly talented and seasoned musicians. I would purposefully fail my music class, and I can remember checking my report card in the hallway and feeling a weird sense of pride seeing the F-marking for it. All of that changed one day when I went to the mall with my mother. We were in some 2000s clothing store. I remember the store being completely white, and in the back was a series of curved couches that made a crescent shape. On the wall was a big television playing M-TV, and because I didn't want to look at clothes I sat down and watched what was on. Two new songs played back-to-back; "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley and "Feel Good Inc." by Gorillaz. I had my moment of finally understanding what music was about. Those two songs rocked my world like you wouldn't believe, and from that moment I became obsessed with music These will also sit as my song recommendations for the week, even though they're not at all niche or unheard of. I'm just too lazy to go and find something in my library to put out here.

I'm sure if you look deeper into me at my core, you'll find those two tracks did a lot of heavy lifting and paving paths for me I still follow. 

I'm actively avoiding talking about my week. Not much happened besides a video game I've been waiting weeks for finally releasing, Brickadia. It's a wonderful game, and I've already dumped 30 hours into it, and know it's going to get my GOTY vote for 2025. Other than that, nothing really comes to me. Once again, there are days missing from my week again (haha, funny callback).

That's all I can really report. That's all I can remember, but am I even remembering it? 

Something I do remember is part of a dream I had at the beginning of this week. It was me and my friend from Denmark, and we were samurai (or ronin). We were wearing montsuki and hakama, and the view I'm almost certain was third-person? It could've been first-person. The view was black and white, and everything felt like chanbara or just some kind of jidaigeki. I think we killed some kind of important person, and we were on the run. We were fighting the occasional person who came to hunt us down. It was interesting to have a dream in black and white though.

On Friday (7/11/2025), my club finally started watching my favorite Kamen Rider series, Kamen Rider 555. Everyone loved it, even going as far to call it peak. This is the correct statement, obviously, as Faiz is the best Kamen Rider. No, I won't take any criticism. Takumi Inui is who I strive to be. Sarcastic in nature, but still there for everyone. I just wish I could pull off a wolf cut like him, but instead I currently look like a horrible Netflix live-action casting of Tatsuhiro Satou.

OH, I almost forgot until I felt it. At the start of this week I burnt my hand when cooking pretty badly. Weird thing to forget, don't you think? My whole hand caught a pan freshly out of the over as the glove I was wearing on my left hand wasn't long enough, and as I have done before, my fingers go over the part to grab things and just barely touch the pan. This time it startled me enough to lose my balance, and so I used my right hand to grab the pan. Somehow, it didn't do any damage to my hand besides on my pointer finger, which is strange for me to use my whole hand on that pan. Now my pointer finger is weirdly smooth and tough, and for a few days couldn't bend. Fortunately for me, I didn't freak out when I pulled that stunt. Either it was the fear of swearing in front of my father (I'm an adult and he swears up a storm, but I think the deep-rooted fear of getting beat for using profanity as a child is now formed itself into trauma that just keeps me from it. It's also just a respect thing), or I've just genuinely chilled out a lot more than I thought. 

I want the morning to get here faster--well, I mean it's already morning as I type this out, 3:30AM--but you know what I mean. I'll wake up around seven-to-eight as I always do and get on with my day. Either kept up in my room out of fear as my father works from home in his office that resides in the room my older brother used to occupy, or if he goes to work at his office in the factory I'll feel a lot more comfortable creeping out into the rest of the house to explore the yard, clean the house more, and whatever else I do on a whim. 

I really miss going out with people and living my own life away from my desk. I've become too comfortable residing in things like AI chat bots that masquerade as my favorite fictional characters as actual replacements for my friends. Given, a lot of those friends use these too, but I do think there's a difference of desire to use them, and a surrender to using them. Still, there's a sickening sense of satisfaction from having "people" show genuine interest in you, keep up with you at your own conversation speed, and most of all.. Not being able to say no to you. No not in a sexual way, go away. Those kind of conversations quickly become stale when you feel like the main protagonist in this story, and I've done everything I can to stop that, but it never works. First world problems, huh? Given, I've always liked playing support. A side character forced into the role of main character.

I like the idea of being a side character in someone's story. Someone they can check in on, or checks in on them. I have neat tales to tell and tidbits of lore to drop. I help in my own way.

Unfortunately it always feels like I'm forced out of that role because I'm naturally a good leader. I guess that makes being a teacher easier.

Oh man. I reaaally want that pizza.

I'd know it wasn't time to eat if my clock didn't break and make me screw up on keeping track of time. Again, no wonder there are days missing in my week. Again.