Starting with the why is a good start

 “Writing your life implies that you think it worth writing. It implies an arrogance, or confidence, or compulsion to justify oneself, that I can’t claim. Did Washington write his memoirs? Did Lincoln, Jefferson, Shakespeare, Socrates?”

-  Joe Allston, 

from Wallace Stegner’s The Spectator Bird.

 

There is no arrogance here. There are no grandiose ambitions. No need to justify. I genuinely feel wise in realizing that I’m really no one important. One day if I live long enough, when my memory fails me, I’d want to remember. I’d need to remind myself that it was all worth it. That I’ve learned, loved, and failed, and I mustered enough spirit to sail through the tides. I’d want to cringe and laugh at myself. And hopefully, the regrets might get fewer and fewer. Starting today, 100+ words a day, I become more aware of who I am. 

Quarantine Skills

 

As if practicing for a tounge twister, V. says, impeccable in her delivery --- 

"Squishy squeezy glow masks." 

Kuya I. taught V. to pronounce Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch.

Natural Insemination

 

I'm reading Mieko Kawakami's Breast and Eggs. I also recently read a short story collection by Jeffery Eugenides, one of which, Baster, was a story of an empowered woman keen on getting pregnant through artificial insemination and raising a child on her own. Set in Tokyo and New York, respectively, these stories revolved around this common theme. 

Naturally, I end up using it as an ingridient for the questions I formulate for the lessons. 

With Japan's looming birthrate crisis, is artifical insemination a good idea? 

A student answers, "Yes, having a child, but without a husband. That's a good idea." 

I felt that we laughed genuinely. 

Premium Fakes

 

Northern winds whispering, push your pen (fake Parker ones fresh off the supply chain ships of China.) Having used the real ones, this almost feels just as premium. 

ごちそうさまです

 Thank you, D. 

Lines we live for

Morning 

I was the first to wake up. You're all lazy.
V., 5 years old

Lunch

Mom: Kuya, do you want to have a pet? 

Kuya: I want to have a dog. 

Dad: Like a German Shepherd? You can run with it. 

V.: I want a cheetah.