the sputnik sweetheart

Before I write about the book -- it's Sunday 7 am.  It's still dark outside.  I wonder if it is going to rain today.  It's strangely quiet, and I realize I was away for almost half a year.  During that time, I tried not to think too much and instead tried to stay indifferent unless it was about something very important to me.  I tried to find a way to be neutral like a plain white canvas.  And I think I've come to terms with the problems I had when I stopped writing:

I think too much when I write. It's like when a cow chews on grass and swallows it down and then brings it back and chews it again and swallows it and... it's a never ending process and I sort of got tired of it. I'm trying to find something that can give me a blank state of mind instead of a flood of words.

I have a very good friend I met through my old blog.  I think we have known each other for more than five years.  We've never talked in person, but she holds a special place in my heart.

In her previous email, she told me the way I wrote about writing (the passage above) reminded her of Sumire from Sputnik Sweetheart.  It was a funny coincidence because a couple days before, another friend had pointed out that I reminded her of Myu, another character from the same novel.

As I read the novel last night, I thought I was more like character #3 -- the narrator.

...Considering the amount of information I have, no one in the world can talk about me as much as I can.  But when I talk about myself, the "me" that is described would be selected, defined and cut out by the narrator that is me -- according to my sense of value, my emotional standards, my ability as an observer, and various realistic concerns.  (85)

Obviously, it's not just that different people cut me out differently (like my two friends).  I probably show different parts of myself to different people.  But I actually did have one part that overlapped with Sumire (198-202):

...I used to write because I couldn't help but to write.  Why can't I help but to write?  The answer is obvious: to think about something, I have to make that something into words.

私は日常的に文字の形で自己を確認する。
I identify myself daily in the form of words. 

But since I met Myu, I stopped writing. ...I probably stopped thinking. ...I am floating towards nowhere... and I think that's okay.  Instead, I need to be extremely light in order to understand Myu. 

理解というものは、常に誤解の総体に過ぎない。
それが私のささやかな世界認識の方法である。 
Understanding is always merely a mass of misunderstanding.
That is my modest way of perceiving the world.

On the other side of what we think we know very well are the same amount of things that we don't know.

It's still very quiet here but it's not dark anymore.  It's just... cloudy.
Another day has started.