The Record of the Daily Life of La Senorita Ahora

Still in process. It is a story based on my daily life. I refer myself as "La Senorita Ahora" because my name is Nao, which sounds like "now" in English. "Ahora" means "now" in Spanish.

I have a mixed feeling of accomplishment and mental exhaustion. My mind is like a blank sheet of paper. The wind is blowing. The wind is not strong but it is strong enough to blow the paper in my mind.

When I step outside of my room, I hear the TV. My room mates must have turned it on. In the kitchen, there are plates in the sink. The pile is high and the stains are visible. The remains of the vegetables are seen through the little gaps of the plates. Not again. But after a second I give up and head to the bathroom.

The bathroom has outdated magazines and advertisement. The bathroom does not have a smell. Sometimes it does because I spray the perfume. It is the perfume that I got at the airport in Argentina. I feel like getting another one online. Maybe I am a little too old though, for Victoria’s Secret.

My room mates are sitting right next to me. There is Sachika-san on the sofa, and she is reading through Miyu-chan’s graduate on essay. I have become accustomed to calling Miyu-san as Miyu-chan. I thought that she did not like me much first. But these days I feel I have gotten much closer with her. I am glad. She is sitting towards my left by the way. Towards my right, there is Yuka. She is the same age as I am. She is pretty. Very skinny. Oh. Miyu-chan is pretty as well. Her eyelashes are very, long. She has short hair and it really suits her. Yuka on the other hand has long hair. But today the long hair is not very visible. She has a bun.

Trying to recall what has been happening throughout this month. Last week, I burnt my boyfriend Kaito’s futon. The more I think about it, the more it makes me giggle. It was at around 8:15am when the incident happened. Kaito was in the bathroom on the same floor as his room.

His room is small but has a computer, a desk, a bed, a fridge, and a couple of books for shukatsu. He has been stressing out about it. He is worrying too much though. I think he should know better of himself. He is much smarter than he thinks. He is good at buying cheap vegetables and meat. He is a shufu. He has delicate hands and his body is lean. He cares about his body image. I tell him he is beautiful just the way he is. Food and exercise are two of Kaoito’s favorite words. He reads three steps ahead of his actions. He is the man of logic. Sometimes he annoys me because he tries to enforce his opinion. His eyes are narrow but his gaze is gentle. He is there for me when I need him. Te quiero.

It was early in the morning when Kaito stood up for the bathroom. I decided to fold the futon. Bad decision. I placed the futon on the floor while I was folding the blue blanket. I was marveling on my own actions. Such a good girlfriend. I pick up the futon. Immediately, I see that something is wrong. A tiny portion of the futon is brown. Not the pleasant thick brown color of chocolate, but rusty marron. Blink twice. No change. Sniff, sniff. The smell of burnt. The devil inside me whispered pretend I had not witnessed anything. Three seconds later, my conscious returns. Bad idea. Kaito comes in. I burnt your futon. I did not see the heater. Why do I sound so desperate for his forgiveness? His face motionless, asks me if I am all right. He did not sleep very well last night. He is in a gloomy mood. Was Kaito angry? I could not tell. Scared, I ate the shoku-pan that he offered for breakfast. Tasteless, but enough to keep my mouth busy. Eating is a remedy of nervousness. That day I bought him a new set of futon. He seemed in a worse mood after paying, though. It was 8000 yen. I should have tried harder, he says. I could have sewn the futon. I do not understand why he has to be angry towards me. I did my best to compensate for my actions. For a split second, the idea of breaking up with him crosses my mind. Sorry Kaito, this happens quite often. I think it is a type of defense mechanism. The idea of breaking up with you is like walking to the core of the forest at midnight, without a torch. Forgive me, I am weaker than you think. In the end we reconcile. I should have tried harder, I said. He started picking the food in Otoya, which meant that he was satisfied with my response.

Sometimes it makes me wonder why one year exchange students and regular four year students at my dorm have a hard time communicating with each other. Common topic that submerges and resurfaces like a pack of dolphins. Language is a barrier, custom is a barrier. But even within Japanese students, there are barriers. For me, communication is an easy task that I can complete without difficulty. For someone who can easily accomplish a task, it is difficult to stand in the shoes of those who do not. Egotism is difficult to avoid. It is like little crumbles of Oreos stuck in between your teeth. I like Oreos but not when I need to excuse myself to the bathroom to carve out the remains with my nails. My nails become stained too. I like hiding my egoistic self. When I discover my egotism, I feel a mixture of fear, disgust, and relief. Fear that my egoism is taking over the majority of my conscious. Leaving no space for other thoughts. Disgust that I am too full of myself. Relief that I am a human being after all.