Today, I finally got to eat a farm-fresh soft-serve ice cream I’ve been craving for the past year or two. Just like how Japanese food abroad never quite compares to the real thing in Japan, soft-serve you find in town doesn’t come close to the kind you get at a proper dairy farm. I love farm soft-serve so much that I actually avoid eating the ordinary kind sold in convenience stores or random shops. The best soft-serve I’ve ever had was in Hokkaido, during a trip where I almost got lost deep in the mountains. I was hitchhiking through Hokkaido, and one of the rides dropped me off in the middle of nowhere. With no people around and barely any roads, I was essentially hiking through unfamiliar terrain. As evening approached and the mountain grew quiet, I started to worry—what would happen if I had to spend the night there alone? Then, out of nowhere, I came across a small, family-run dairy farm and a little stand selling fresh milk and soft-serve. There were maybe three cows, and the place was incredibly modest—but at that moment, it felt like I’d been saved. Even setting aside the situation, the soft-serve was absolutely incredible. Frustratingly, I can’t remember exactly where it was, but I wish I could go back and taste it again. When I had today’s soft-serve, that memory came flooding back. I think that no matter how many soft-serves I eat for the rest of my life, the aftertaste will always carry a trace of that memory. It’s a strange, almost beautiful feeling. I also got to do a lot of driving today, which I love, and had long conversations with someone important to me. I ate lots of delicious food, too. It was a fulfilling Saturday.

I got a haircut the day before yesterday. This time, it turned out a bit too short. Since I’m going to Mongolia in a couple of weeks—and I probably won’t be able to bathe for about ten days—I asked the stylist to make it extra short and fresh. They delivered exactly what I asked for, and I’m satisfied with how it turned out. Back in high school, when friends asked, “Did you get a haircut?” I used to say, “Yeah, but it ended up way shorter than I expected.” I’d always add that kind of negative comment, as if I wasn’t happy with it. I think I just didn’t have much confidence in myself. Looking back, maybe I was trying to shift the blame to the hairstylist—like it was their fault I didn’t look good. If that’s really what I was doing, it’s kind of a nasty mindset. Now, when someone asks me if I got a haircut, I try not to say anything negative. I guess it’s because I don’t like who I used to be—it makes me uncomfortable. Today’s writing doesn’t feel quite right. It doesn’t fully match what I’m thinking, and I don’t feel like I expressed the nuances the way I meant to. It’s a bit frustrating. But I’m sleepy, so I’ll go to bed. P.S. I’ve been seeing a lot of cats on my walks lately. For some reason, they all look at me like they’re annoyed. Am I… actually bothering them?

I manage about five websites—some are personal blogs, others are company pages. All of them are hosted on a server. A few days ago, I was trying to add this diary site to the server, but I accidentally deleted everything on it. It was like erasing all the photos stored on your iPhone in one go. In an instant, all the data for the five websites I manage disappeared—including company websites I had been paid to build and maintain. Everything I had built over time just vanished. It was a disaster. At that moment, I had no clue whether I could recover any of it. I was panicking for a while. But after two or three days of digging deep, researching seriously, and trying everything I could, I managed to restore the data. Thanks to that, I’m now able to write and publish this diary entry again. It’s only the second day of this journal, but it already holds a special place in my heart. These past few days, I was so caught up with server-related work that I couldn’t sleep well. But today, everything finally feels stable and under control—so tonight, I think I can finally get some proper rest.

I'm not very good at communication. Whether it's at work or in my personal life, I often feel frustrated because I can’t express what I’m really thinking. My mind works slowly, and the right words don’t come out easily, so I struggle with giving advice or being asked for my opinion. In conversations, you’re expected to respond quickly to keep the flow going. But honestly, when someone asks me something, I wish I had two minutes to really think before answering. And when I ask a question, I want to freeze for two minutes and truly draw out what the other person is feeling. But I’ve unconsciously given up on that kind of communication since I was a kid. Maybe that’s why communication feels like such a hurdle to me. It’s probably also why I enjoy traveling alone, have a shy personality, and love reading books filled with words more beautiful than I could ever come up with myself. Reading is wonderful. Since I enjoy reading so much, I thought it would be nice to one day read my own writing too—so I decided to start this journal. I've probably had the urge to start a journal at least ten times in my life, but I’ve never kept it going. I don't think I’ll stick with it this time either. But leaving behind signs of failure in a public place like this feels kind of okay. It gives me something to laugh at later, and somehow, an unfinished thing left behind feels a bit like art. Anyway, I know I lose motivation quickly if I don’t act when the impulse hits. So I just went for it. I’ve never actually seen iron while it’s still hot.