Daily Life.
Jul. 7th, 2008 02:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19The cycle of a week has brought delightful constancy to my daily life. (We all know how I abhor a lack of structure.) Saturday has become get-out-and-see-something-cool day, while Sunday is stay-in-and-prepare-for-the-coming-week day. In addition to countless hours of studying, I include an hour of traditional Japanese bathing in the regimen. The dorm room has a Japanese ofuro, and though I don’t feel I have the luxury of either water or time for ofuro on a regular basis, I like the idea of having a good soak once a week. It’s my little bit of Zen before the harsh and heavy drill of week-long classes, commuting, practice, socializing, and so forth. Of course, my first ofuro was a little too hot for me, but I rectified that with a little added cold water. Still, when I got out of the bath my face was completely red! I was glad I didn’t have anywhere to be right then.
In other news, my dorm managers, the Nakamuras, have set up a little bamboo tree and slips of beautifully colored paper for us all to make wishes for Tanabata, the festival of Vega and Altair (the Weaver and the Cowherd stars). Wish-making is fairly straightforward: you take a piece of paper, write your wish on it, and hang it on the tree. For my wish, I wrote that I wanted to become good at speaking Japanese. When I came in this evening from grabbing some dinner supplies, the dorm mother told me that she and her husband had both looked at my wish and that they both thought that I was already good at speaking Japanese. I disagree, of course, but it was sweet of her, so I thanked her (after appropriately denying it) and clarified that I wanted to become even more good than I was now.
And that’s the truth.
In other news, my dorm managers, the Nakamuras, have set up a little bamboo tree and slips of beautifully colored paper for us all to make wishes for Tanabata, the festival of Vega and Altair (the Weaver and the Cowherd stars). Wish-making is fairly straightforward: you take a piece of paper, write your wish on it, and hang it on the tree. For my wish, I wrote that I wanted to become good at speaking Japanese. When I came in this evening from grabbing some dinner supplies, the dorm mother told me that she and her husband had both looked at my wish and that they both thought that I was already good at speaking Japanese. I disagree, of course, but it was sweet of her, so I thanked her (after appropriately denying it) and clarified that I wanted to become even more good than I was now.
And that’s the truth.
