the other night at a teppanyaki joint in kyoto, an older japanese gentleman (a Regular, and fellow egg lover) handed me a pushpin. he gestured for me to stick it in the world map that hung on the wall behind him, so i got up from my seat and stuck the red pin somewhere near the border of oregon and washington. after we shared a blip of a moment in time, we both went back to our meals, and to not speaking.

i miss the silence the most about helsinki. i loved the quiet. here in japan, each train ride we take, i'm aware of all the bodies and all the brains just jostling around in a moving matchbox in silence. if we had thought bubbles like in comic books, it might be a clusterfuck. but we coexist, looking out the window or making mental lists or playing mobile games. i can't bring myself to listen to music here because it's just too dang nice to hear nothing out loud. 

it's not just the shared space of quiet that's gotten to me this trip: i'm noticing more micro-moments of care and intention. for example, every commerce transaction is practically a ceremony: a card or cash set on a tray; a receipt presented like a gift, squared, carefully flattened, sometimes stamped. i don't know about you, but i treat receipts like a gum wrapper tossed in the bottom of a handbag until i find a trashcan. would i be more capable of intentionality if i treated trivial objects with respect? if i took the time to unfurl, fold with precision, adhere with a tiny piece of tape or sticker? 

i was also thinking the other day at lunch (we prepaid with a vending machine before being seated and served, then never interacted with again) about the pros and cons of american customer service (service industry, in particular). when your livelihood depends on tips and corporate metrics, shit gets weird. like when a server comes by for the third time to ask, "HOW IS EVERYTHING??" ...that's capitalism. it may be painful for introverts and social weirdos like me, but it's probably grueling on the server, too. be nice. tip big. it's nobody's fault, but boy do i love not being spoken to throughout a meal. 

anyway, hello. can you believe it's already december? have you written any 2020 dates out yet and gawked at how strange it looked? i did so the other day; it rang out like a typo. it's about to be The Twenties. again. time is weird. 

so...
how is everything?
rhienna