Posts Tagged → Nostalgia

Three dollars times five days a week times four weeks a month is sixty dollars times twelve months a year is seven hundred and twenty which it turns out is too much

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it means to be “Put Together.” (As in, “Let me put myself together,” or, “That’s a guy who really has it all together.“) It’s a feeling that I like and I assume everyone else likes it, too. Otherwise, why would we all have dress shoes?

Anywho. When I think of being “Put Together,” I always think of Haruki Murakami.

Author of books like 1Q84, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, and Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami has become a bit of a literary staple. I had a furious love affair with Haruki Murakami’s books in the 2010s, when I was in Korea and shopping at What the Book, which carried all his Vintage International Editions with covers by John Gall. (I read them all, collected all the different editions. I even had a few written in Japanese, which I couldn’t read but admired.)

I’m a Murakami nut.

Murakami has a few tropes that appear in his works, and one of them is the (usually male) character who loses his current life for one reason or another and is forced to rebuild his life from the ground up in a whole new setting.

Like, a guy has an existential crisis, gets dumped by his wife, leaves his house and job, and then moves out to the countryside where he works at a small-town library. Once placed in his new surroundings, Murakami describes how the character wakes up, how he cooks breakfast, how he gets to work, etc., etc. Murakami might describe the steps involved his getting dressed, how he unwinds after a long day, the restaurant he goes to for dinner, or the turn-by-turn route he takes in going home from work in the evening. All of it is so meticulous and minute and it just scratches some kind of itch that I have. I can’t get enough of it.

I think that itch I feel is the desire to be “Put Together.”

A few years ago, when I first started teaching at my current school, I was trying to set up a routine that would work for me. Sarah and I had just moved into the house we rent and things were … tough. We’d been overseas for so long, we didn’t have any furniture, knew hardly anybody in town, the pandemic had just happened, and both of us weren’t making very much money.

Things were decidedly not “Put Together.“

Back then, I thought I’d stop in the mornings at a gas station for a quick cup of coffee like I did back when I was student teaching, which was the last time I’d been a teacher in a U.S. classroom. It was a silly thing, but I liked stopping at a little place before the sun came up for a quick cuppa. I liked the silly little interactions I had with the gas station attendant. I liked walking into the school building with a warm paper cup in one hand and my entry badge in the other. I liked to take a little sip, smack my lips real loud, and go, “Aaahhh!” so it echoed down the hallways. Frivolous? Sure, but you’ve got to take pleasure in tiny, pointless, everyday activities. Otherwise what’s the point?

After a few days, though, I did the math, and I realized that I wasn’t making enough money to buy gas station coffee before work. With rent, utilities, gasoline, insurance, groceries … I just couldn’t afford to stop at a f*cking Casey’s for a bullshit cup of coffee every morning. And while having a gas station coffee isn’t necessarily a big part of being “Put Together,” it felt like I was trying to build for myself one of those minuscule Murakami habits only to be told, “Sorry, the coffee from our gas station is for better people than you.”

I’m still bitter about it. Dark and bitter. And aromatic!

Feeling Fancy & Not Hooked

“A Court of Thorns and Roses” is coming along nicely. We had a three-day weekend, so I was able to read a bit more than usual, although a lot of time was taken up by Diablo IV. (One more character to go and I’ll have each class running Torment IV!)

I’m hoping that “Thorns and Roses” has some surprises in store, because I’m honestly reading through it thinking to myself, “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Move the plot along,” which is what I find myself saying more and more when I read modern fantasy. It’s not bad by any stretch, but I don’t think it’s hooked me yet.

I’ve been missing Korea a lot recently. I used to be an expat, living in South Korea and other parts of Asia between 2008 and 2020. The pandemic kind of forced my wife and I to move back stateside, but I secretly (or maybe not-so-) wish we were living somewhere, anywhere other than the United States.

(To all those red-hat freaks who like to yell, “If you don’t like it here, then get out,” I would love to. You should get out too, if only to see that other countries are doing it way better than we are.)

There are oodles of practical reasons why living outside this country sounds appealing. Other countries have better infrastructure, better healthcare, better cost of living, better environment, nicer people, better public transportation, better education, and aren’t being run by rapist grifters who are perpetually apologised for by nearly every U.S. new source. (Seriously, at what point do news stations say, “Maybe it isn’t okay for us to report this brain-addled octogenarian’s plan to invade Greenland as if it’s anything other than the ramblings of a troll and a moron?”)

What’s got me feeling “homesick” for a foreign country today isn’t anything so grandiose. I just happened to find a brand of hand soap that’s scent reminds me of a hotel I used to stay at in Seoul.

Scent is a powerful reminder, and when I washed my hands this morning in lavender and bergamot, whoosh, I was brought right back to the J.W. Marriott above the Express Bus Terminal in Seoul. I didn’t stay there a lot, but any time I wanted to feel fancy in Korea, that was where I stayed.

And now the scent of their hotel soap makes me feel fancy.

Sigh. What a world.