April 10–23, 2008 — Diary Compilation
ep.139 April 10–23, 2008 — Diary Compilation
Date Published: July 27, 2025, 23:20
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Preface
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Main Text
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2008 — Cherry Blossoms, Bread, and Mobage
—from Midori Japan’s Mobage Diary (April 10–April 23, 2008)
That spring, I was writing a diary on “Mobage.”
My handle name was Midori Japan. Looking back now, maybe it was a name a little ahead of its time.
This was before smartphones existed — I was writing my thoughts on the tiny screen of a flip phone.
“Here’s a pic of Sakura-chan.”
That entry included a photo of a branch of cherry blossoms in full bloom, stretching toward the sky.
I wrote just one short line: “Isn’t it beautiful?” That was enough.
At the time, that really was enough.
In a world untouched by “buzz” or “like-hunting” on social media, it was enough just to tell someone, “Hey, this is pretty”, and my heart felt full.
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“Who were you in your past life?”
In that fortune-telling quiz, the result came out as “A lady of high society.”
I added a self-deprecating note: “Actually, I’m bad at dancing.” It was part shy humor, part oddly realistic.
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For the quiz “The Moment You Fall in Love”,
it said, “The moment someone confesses they like you.”
I admitted it was kind of true, but added the caveat, “I still choose for myself.”
Both the dreamer and the realist in me spoke through those emoji-filled Mobage posts.
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And then on April 20, we went to the Anpanman Museum.
My older child said, “We don’t have to go in this time,” but on the way home asked in the car,
“Aren’t we stopping by Hippo Man’s house today?”
“I want to go in!!” “No way, no way” — the back-and-forth of that conversation is preserved in the diary exactly as it happened.
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Just remembering makes me smile.
Dim sum at a revolving Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. Beef tongue noodles. Peking duck.
“Hehehe… a revolving Chinese food maniac like me never orders bad dishes, so I’m always satisfied (￣▽￣)”
…That tone is unmistakably me.
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On April 23, I posted a picture of bread bought at the Anpanman Museum, along with a story about a “live voice.”
At the time, my son was one year and four months old, and when he tried to sing the Totoro song, it came out like:
“Let’s walk, let’s walk, let’s wa—GYAaaAAaa!”
That voice still echoes in the back of my mind.
He’s in high school now, and no longer sings “GYAaaAAaa.”
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The internet may disappear, but memories do not.
Or rather, it’s precisely because even memories fade like this that I’m writing them down here now.
