If you were here, we'd talk about salad. We'd talk about salad because I ate a salad today, and I'm eating a salad tomorrow, and I think that sometime soon I hope I hope I hope don't jinx it, I'll be able to see six pack abs in the mirror. Totally vain, but this morning I looked in the mirror and saw the ghost of them and it was the most energizing thing. The rest of my day was just lovely after that.

Getting over this last hill (mountain? I don't know, I've never gotten this close before.) is mainly a matter of not eating every sweet thing I can buy, which is surprisingly difficult. Japanese bakeries are like bakeries everywhere in that everything contained in them is both delicious and unhealthy, and there's a bakery between me and my schools no matter which of the four I happen to be teaching at. The thing is, though, in the past when I've told myself "Ok, this time we're gonna get that six pack!" I ended up wanting the donuts / maple loafs / melonpan / other-things-whose-names-I-don't-know more than I wanted to see the muscles. This time that doesn't seem to be the case, although I may be speaking too soon.

I don't know why this is, but I know that red wine helps. I think wine is gross, to be honest, but like all alcohol it makes interesting sensations and I can't stand to drink it too fast, so where before I might have sat down for an evening of internet tv, cakey things, and soda or milk, I've recently been writing or studying with a (tiny) glass of wine and a few squares of dark chocolate. (Seriously tiny, I can't do more than 100ml or so at a time, it's just too gross. I don't think I'll ever get drunk,  or at least not on wine. Gin, maybe.) And maybe watching some internet tv too. Modern Family = gold.

The point of telling you about my salad and abdomen and cake and wine is that I'm feeling good. Like, really good. I feel like I have people who like me and care about me, and while I'm pretty sure cerebrally that this has always been the case, I haven't always been able to feel it. It's true than most of them aren't in my geographic vicinity, but some of them are, and some of them will be, and you take what you can get, right? Nothing wrong with that.

There are angsty things lurking around in my brain like always and I could talk about them if I really wanted—there was this abbreviated discussion I had about the responsibility to feel loved versus the responsibility to make love feelable, for example—but I don't really want to. Is this okay? Can I end here, happy? Happy with almost visible abs, a nearly empty bottle of wine, progress on my personal goals, and a general sense of well being?

It came on so suddenly.