Monday, March 14, 2011

I can't shake this constant feeling of dread and anxiety and I don't know if it's because there's a damn nuclear reactor leaking radiation a bit too close to home or because that's how I tend to feel when I'm taking Clarinase. Yeah, that's right, seasonal allergies don't get put on hold just because there are more pressing issues at hand. Apologies in advance if any of my comments seem to have come from a fuzzy brain--they have.

I keep encountering conflicting scenes that are keeping me in a state of unbalance. Yesterday, I was completely taken off guard when a visit to the nearby supermarket revealed a scene of restrained chaos. The first shock was that the shelves that normally hold diapers and toilet paper were completely emptied. And no one knew when new stock would arrive. And I only had two rolls of toilet paper left in the house. As my footsteps unconsciously sped up, I spotted more and more gaping sections of shelves where meat, rice, and bread used to be. It was hard not to panic, not to start snatching up whatever was left, not to take things I ordinarily wouldn't reach for.

Suddenly, I spotted a woman holding the Holy Grail: toilet paper! Trying not to jump on her like a rabid animal, I asked her where she had found hers and quickly followed her directions to a nearby store. I guess I wasn't totally taken aback when I saw the long line of people snaking out the door. The store worker unpacking the toilet paper told us very sweetly to each take just one pack. Despite the feeling of desperation in the air, I noticed everyone around me remained kind and helpful with each other. No rioting for the Japanese, thank god.

While we waited to pay for the precious toilet paper clutched in my arms, R glanced back and forth at all the people ahead of and behind us, and asked in amusement what everyone was doing. Thank god she managed to be distracted by a banana, since our shopping trip had taken twice as long as planned. As we emerged from one supermarket, I noticed the checkout lines had tripled in length.

Later in the afternoon, though, a stroll through a nearby park revealed couples cuddling on benches, people walking their dogs, old men drinking beer and fishing. Today, we saw a man washing his car, two ladies buying flowers, a mother pushing her son on a swing, people tending their gardens: the mundane and the frivolous, everyday life. When all the images being repeatedly displayed on the news show entire towns swallowed up by water, fires at nuclear plants, people lost and crying, it feels wrong to want to buy vanilla essence because you're running out. I look at the man sitting in the real estate office, the construction workers continuing to build that new house across from us, all those thousands of people cramming the train stations to capacity, lining up for miles and waiting for hours to get on a train to get to work: I marvel at their determination and optimism. It's tempting to want to huddle at home and listen to the dire news on the TV and radio all day long, but I think a lot of people around me are doing their best to get on with life. Having a toddler around has forced me to do the same: There are meals to cook, dirty fingers to wash, sand to shovel, naps to enforce. No time to just sit around and brood, though that doesn't mean my mind isn't racing when it's given the chance.

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