Canon's Diary

Action without thought is empty; thought without action is blind – Goethe

While living with schizophrenia, I move between Tokyo and Osaka. Through this journal, I hope to quietly share moments from my daily life—and memories from the journey I’ve taken with my illness.

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Recording my Daily Life as a Diary

  • Balancing Exercise and Calorie Intake

    As usual, I wake up at 6:30 in the morning. According to my smartwatch, I slept for 7 hours and 45 minutes, and my BodyEnergy level has recovered to 50. Looks like I slept well. I open the curtains and let the morning sun in. Outside the window, I can see trains crossing the Kyoto Line and people heading toward the station.

    Last night’s dinner consisted of a salad bowl and a rice ball, accompanied by a glass of Kakuhai (whiskey highball). The salad bowl included sweet potatoes, lotus root, barley rice, and slices of teriyaki chicken. It seemed well-balanced and relatively low in calories, which is why I chose it.

    I’ve been managing my weight for the past few years. I injured the meniscus in my left knee, which began affecting my daily life, and the doctor recommended building muscle and losing weight. I learned from generative AI that as long as I consume fewer calories than I burn in a day, I can lose weight without too much strain.

    Daily calorie expenditure is calculated based on basal metabolic rate and activity level. By entering my age, height, and weight into my smartwatch, it displays the numbers on the monitor. In my case, my basal metabolic rate is around 1,500 kcal, and with added activity, total calorie expenditure averages is around 2,300 kcal.

    Calorie intake, on the other hand, is the total amount of food I eat in a day, so I’ve developed the habit of estimating the calorie content before eating. Convenience store rice balls and bento boxes always have calorie labels. For home-cooked meals and items without clear labels, I usually ask a generative AI, which can estimate the calories with fairly good accuracy. The advancement of technology truly knows no bounds. We now live in an age where AI kindly and thoroughly guides us on how to balance exercise with food intake.

    On days when I practice tennis for three hours, I burn over 3,000 kcal, and I’m advised to increase my intake of protein and carbohydrates. When my knee was in worse condition, I was told to avoid tennis, but simple exercises like walking and squats were encouraged. So, during my commute to the Tokyo office, I used to climb the stairs to the 9th floor of the building instead of taking the elevator.

    Although the doctor said the injury wouldn’t heal, I managed to lose about 10 kilograms, which eased the burden on my knee, and now it hardly interferes with daily life.

    That said, there are still times when my cravings get the better of me. Like today, when the cafeteria served beef bowls with barley rice—I couldn’t resist ordering the large portion. It’s a habit I still haven’t quite kicked. But even so, unlike in the past when a large serving was my default, I now tell myself, “Just for today, a special treat.”

    While I go about my days like this, I’ve also been steadily preparing for a new chapter in life. Yesterday, I found out that commuting by motorbike won’t be possible, so on my way home from work, I decided to try walking to the apartment I’ll be renting.

    There’s a medium-sized supermarket near the office, and I walked through the residential neighborhood on its north side toward Settsu-Tonda Station. My apartment is on the opposite side of the station, so I had to cross the tracks, but there’s a pedestrian path under the station’s elevated structure. The ceiling is low, so I have to be careful not to hit my head. There’s a constant announcement reminding cyclists to walk their bikes through.

    Once through the underpass, a single street runs perpendicular to the tracks—a quaint, slightly retro shopping street. After walking about 150 meters, I reached the Hankyu Tonda Station crossing. Here, my apartment is just around the corner. In this area, the Hankyu and JR lines run parallel, and this is the point where the two routes come closest together.

    It takes me about 10 minutes on foot from the company. Unlike Naruse, where the neighborhood is built into the hills and full of steep slopes, this area is flat, so commuting shouldn’t be an issue.

  • Framing a Summary

    Daily writing prompt
    What book could you read over and over again?
    View all responses

    It’s not easy to make time for reading, but I’ve been deeply influenced by several books over the years—The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey, A Drop in the Great River by Hiroyuki Itsuki, Factfulness by Hans Rosling, and Essentialism by Greg McKeown. Lately, I’ve been really into The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga, which provides a clear and accessible explanation of Adlerian psychology.

    When I was younger, I used to read novels by authors like Haruki Murakami. These days, I mainly read past Akutagawa Prize-winning works. They’re often unique, emotionally rich, and refreshingly original—always a fascinating read. I also watch a lot of anime, and when I find one I love, I often seek out its novel version. Makoto Shinkai’s expressive artistry in storytelling feels almost like fine art to me. Reading Taro Okamoto’s Poison Your Own Heart made me feel as if my perspective had broadened a little, too.

    That said, to be honest, I’ve never been the type to re-read books. Instead, to make sure I don’t forget what I’ve read, I print a one-page summary of each book and frame it to hang on my wall. This way, I can always recall the core messages. Though lately… my walls are starting to get a bit cluttered, so now I’m a little unsure what to do next.

  • The Monster Is Asleep

    This week, I booked a hotel in Ibaraki, two stations away from Settsu-Tonda, the nearest station to my office. It’s more convenient than going through Shin-Osaka, giving me a little more breathing room in the mornings. I reserved the room for four consecutive nights, so I only needed to carry my business bag, leaving the suitcase at the hotel. After grabbing breakfast at the station, I filled my thermos with hot coffee. From the train window, I could still catch glimpses of cherry blossoms in full bloom.

    The company headquarters is about an eight-minute walk from the nearest station. Walking northwest through a series of zigzagging alleys, the morning sun cast shadows alternately in front of me and to my left. It’s a path I’ve grown familiar with. Sitting at my desk, I took a sip of coffee and let out an involuntary sigh—“Phew.” The freshly ground beans gave the coffee a rich, deep flavor.

    Today, a nearly all-day sales meeting was scheduled. I joined remotely via the web. With my earphones in, I focused once again on the directives from headquarters.

    Last night, I was working on writing a diary entry in my hotel room. As I kept writing, fragmented memories of difficult times came flooding back. The monster that once raged inside me during my youth has been sleeping soundly for about ten years now.

    Schizophrenia, a mental illness, is said to develop from a combination of genetic predisposition and environmental triggers. Looking back now, I realize I did indeed have the genetic predisposition. Several of my uncles on my father’s side had mental health disorders. Also, my mother often told me that when I was born, I didn’t cry. The doctor had to hold me upside down by the ankles and spank me before I let out my first cry.

    Since childhood, there was always a hazy restlessness smoldering inside me. To distract myself from it, I needed something to obsess over. Building blocks, supercar erasers, Shonen Jump comics, model kits—I was always searching for something I could fully immerse myself in. I wasn’t good at listening to others. The monster within me interfered, leaving me no space to understand what people were trying to say. There were days when the intensity varied, but I think it took an immense amount of energy each day just to keep that monster from bursting out.

    I remembered something the other day: when I was in elementary school, I apparently tried to leave the house in my sleep. I have no memory of it, but my mother told me about it the next day. “You tried to walk out the door in the middle of the night,” she said. When she asked where I was going, I replied, “To light fireworks with my cousin.” I’ve been told this happened multiple times.

    Sleepwalking is said to be closely related to sleep quality and stress, and it’s possible that it may have had some indirect connection to the schizophrenia I carried.

    Because of today’s meeting, I didn’t get much work done. I submitted an application to commute by motorcycle, which I brought from Tokyo, but it was rejected due to a company policy requiring a one-way distance of at least 2 kilometers. After moving into my new apartment, it looks like I’ll be walking about 1 kilometer each way every day. It’s healthy, at least, but I’ll need to make sure the motorcycle’s battery doesn’t die.

  • Forrest Gump

    Daily writing prompt
    If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
    View all responses

    If I could be someone, I’d want to be Mr. Forrest from the movie Forrest Gump.
    Despite the disadvantage of an intellectual disability, the way he lived his life—never denying himself or others, and facing the fate he was given head-on—truly inspires me.

  • The Day the Past Was Given a Name – Where Something Terrifying Resides

    I woke up at six in the morning. I’d gone to bed after midnight the night before, so I didn’t get quite enough sleep. Still, thanks to a proper bath, I didn’t feel too worn out. I couldn’t see the weather outside, but judging from the light seeping through the curtains, I could guess it was cloudy.
    I slipped on a newly tailored suit. My unruly hair has grown down to my collar lately, so a hat has become essential when I go out.

    Just as I was about to leave, my father asked, “Osaka today?”
    I simply replied, “Yeah,” and pulled the suitcase I’d left by the door.
    It was heavier than last week’s — I’d packed clothes for a full week, and clearly overdid it.
    The weight twisted my wrist as I rolled it out the door.

    My parents still haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that I’m now stationed in Osaka.
    We don’t talk much to begin with, and I’ve told them I’ll likely return to Tokyo for half the month, so they probably think not much has changed.
    And that’s fine.

    On the train from Naruse to Shin-Yokohama, I booked a Shinkansen ticket on my phone.
    All the departures were nearly full, and the only seat I could get was the middle of a three-seater row.
    Feeling cramped and self-conscious, I ate breakfast on board.
    The window shade was down, so I couldn’t see the scenery — I could only close my eyes.
    The seat trembled with a constant vibration.
    As the train entered a tunnel, the roaring sound grew louder, and the pressure change pressed against my eardrums.

    According to The Courage to Be Disliked, time flows not as a continuum, but as a string of “now” moments. Only the present truly exists. The past lives only in memory, and we shouldn’t be bound by it. What matters is whether we can act now. Adlerian psychology even denies the concept of trauma.
    Can I really live that way?

    Twenty-five years ago, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. But it wasn’t something that happened suddenly one day. It was more like — the unease I’d felt since childhood finally got a name. There were days when I felt that something terrifying lived inside me, and I was constantly afraid of it.
    Looking back now, I think that was already the shadow of the illness beginning to take shape. Thankfully, with medication, I can now live a nearly normal life. But it’s a life that only holds together because I take the medicine. —but without it, I wouldn’t last even a day. It took me many long years to reach this stable point.

    I’ve rarely spoken of this illness outside my family. But from now on, little by little, I want to begin writing about it. Not to put a period on the past, but to understand where I stand now, to give my best to the present moment, and to welcome whatever future may come.

  • It all comes down to how much love you can give

    Daily writing prompt
    What animals make the best/worst pets?
    View all responses

    My beloved Shetland Sheepdog, Canon, was without a doubt the best partner I’ve had in my life. The days my wife, Canon, and I spent going out together were filled with happiness. Canon showered us with unconditional love, and I can’t even begin to count how many times we were comforted and encouraged by that love.

    But I’m not saying that dogs are the best pets for everyone. My father, who is now 88, keeps medaka fish in pots in the garden. He’s learned how to care for them through the internet—how to clean the tanks, feed them properly, provide enough oxygen, and handle breeding. He even keeps a tank indoors and truly enjoys caring for them. For my father, those medaka are the best companions.

    In other words, whether it’s a dog, a cat, a lizard, a turtle, or even a crocodile—the best animal for someone is simply the one they can care for with love. There is no such thing as a “worst” animal.

    That said, pets often leave this world before their owners do. That’s a sorrow almost too heavy to bear. Our dear Canon passed away at the age of twelve. Because both my wife and I were working, we often had to leave her at home alone. When she died, we deeply regretted that she may have felt lonely in her final moments.

    That’s why we’ve decided that if we ever welcome a new dog into our lives, it will only be when we can always be there by their side.

  • Sunday, a Quiet Day to Put Things in Order

    It was sunny, but this is the kind of season where it’s hard to decide what to wear. You could say it’s cold, or you could say it’s warm. In the morning, I turned on the heater in the room, but as I got into unpacking after our move, I warmed up quickly and turned it off. My wife had gone out early to help with a youth tennis tournament organized by the city. I stayed in and continued tidying up the room. As I sorted through things, I found items to throw away and put them into bags, then set them out in the hallway for now. I had kept some cardboard boxes, thinking they might come in handy, but in a small 7.5-tatami room, they just get in the way if they’re not being used, so I flattened them and put them out too.

    Around 10 a.m., I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Come to think of it, all I’d had after yesterday’s practice was a light meal of soba noodles. I had an early lunch, then settled into my old reclining chair—nearly twenty years old now—and gazed out through the west-facing window. There must’ve been strong wind high up, as the clouds were moving swiftly, constantly changing shape. In the afternoon, despite the clear blue sky, there were moments of sudden drizzle. Strange weather. As the sunlight grew stronger, I half-closed the curtains.

    On the white wall of the room hangs a monochrome portrait of my favorite tennis player, along with a racket that holds sentimental value. Also framed on the wall are single-page summaries of books that had a strong impact on me. I made them so I wouldn’t forget their messages over time. Now I wonder—should I bring these framed pieces to the one-room apartment in Osaka? The wall was already cluttered with them, making the space feel cramped, so I’ve been unsure.

    I had planned to go to tennis school for a 7 p.m. lesson tonight, but I’m feeling heavy from yesterday’s session. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be living in a hotel in Osaka for another week. I’m thinking I might let my body rest a bit today.

  • Daily routine – writing

    Daily writing prompt
    What job would you do for free?
    View all responses

    “A job I’d do for free”—I don’t think such a thing truly exists.
    But if it’s something that brings me joy while I’m doing it, perhaps it could still be considered a kind of “job,” even without pay.

    That said, from a practical standpoint, we still need time to earn money. So anything done without compensation needs to be something that doesn’t take too much time.
    Maybe it’s the kind of thing we willingly do on our days off. In that sense, such things might very well be the “jobs” we’re willing to do for free.

    In my case, I usually play tennis on weekends. But I’m not good enough to teach it, and certainly not skilled enough to make a living from it.
    So instead, things like organizing matches, planning practice sessions, helping out with the local tennis association, or arranging social gatherings—those might fit.
    Looking back, I’ve already been doing those kinds of things without expecting anything in return.

    And there’s one more thing.

    Writing.

    At this point in my life, it’s something I want to keep doing, even without compensation.
    For some reason, writing helps me organize my thoughts, gives me a subtle sense of fulfillment. Even when I can’t put things into perfect words, the act of writing itself feels like a small kind of healing.

    I think it’s time I need—not for anyone else, but for myself.

  • Through the Cherry Blossom Avenue

    Saturday. The sky is partly cloudy, but patches of blue peek through. After waking up, I had breakfast and washed my hair, then rode my motorbike to the tennis court for practice. As I approached the cherry blossom-lined road along the Onda River, I found the trees in full bloom, bustling with onlookers.I could faintly hear their voices, even through my helmet.

    Though the riverbed is deep, the water level is low. Branches stretch out over the moat, hanging toward the water’s surface, and pale pink blossoms sway in the pleasant breeze as if overflowing.
    Cherry trees line both sides of the paved road, their branches reaching across like an archway.
    Petals fluttered down through the gaps in my bike’s fairing and settled gently on the asphalt.
    The soft sputtering of my four-stroke V4 engine somehow felt out of place in such a serene setting.

    I passed through the avenue and reached the court, where I completed a three-hour practice session.
    Despite the recent break, my body moved surprisingly well. The sun occasionally blinded me mid-play, but I could relax—eating from my lunchbox on the bench and playing with ease.

    Seasons have turned once again. As I face the major turning point of a transfer to Osaka, my mind is restlessly swirling with thoughts. And yet, seasons move at the same steady pace for everyone, without favor. I was reminded of Hiroyuki Itsuki’s A Drop in the Great River. The idea that the human heart is part of nature somehow lifted my spirits when I first read it.

    Raindrops fall upon mountain peaks. They gather into small streams, becoming babbling brooks that rush through valleys. Each transparent drop caresses rocks, sometimes bursting, sometimes shattering, until they join into a mighty current that stitches its way across the land. While glistening in sunlight, some drops are dashed against stone, while others drift quietly along the riverbed. Eventually, all water is embraced by the vast ocean, from which it rises to the sky, forms clouds, and returns as new rain to the mountains’ cradle.
    A human life, too, is like a single drop in that great river. In the immense flow of the world, we may be but one droplet—yet each droplet has its own shine, its own role to play. No matter how fleeting, every drop breathes life as part of this world.

    “On May 4th, we have a practice match with another club, but we’re still short on players. Would you be able to join us?”
    They had invited me before, but I had put off answering since I wasn’t sure whether I’d be in Tokyo over Golden Week. I’ll be moving out of my Tokyo apartment on April 25th, and moving into my Osaka place on the 26th. A bed I ordered in Tokyo is scheduled to arrive in Osaka on the 28th, so I need to stay there until then.But from the 29th onward, I’ll likely be back in Tokyo for other errands.
    “I think I can probably make it,” I replied as I was leaving.

    After returning home, I took a shower. I asked my father if he’d like to see the cherry blossoms again since they were even more beautiful than last week, but he replied that he’d seen enough. Maybe the short walk last week tired him out. Back in my room, I considered starting to pack, but I didn’t know where to begin, and I sat there thinking for a while. The large furniture and appliances need to be moved near the entrance by the day before the move. The dishes are already packed. Clothes and tennis gear are still in use, so it’s better not to pack them yet. The laptop, too—I’ll need that a while longer. I’ve found a decent gas stove and curtains on Amazon. Maybe I’ll just have them shipped straight to the Osaka apartment.

    For now, I think I’ll simply savor the lingering presence of spring.

  • To Tokyo

    Friday, the sky was overcast. When I left the hotel in the morning, the asphalt was wet. It might have rained a little last night. As usual, I had breakfast at the convenience store in the station before heading to work. I attended a joint meeting with the sales department to align on the sales support tasks for the project management section. It seems highly likely that the operations will be structured similarly to the tasks I handled two years ago.

    While managing post-order projects, there also seems to be work related to system improvements, so in the afternoon, I attended an online seminar on Google App Script to review the basics. I also received a rare inquiry from my old department, making today feel notably heavy compared to recent days.

    A message came to my personal LINE account. It was an invitation to a tennis practice session on Saturday, as they were short on players. I hadn’t held a racket all week due to my work in Osaka, so I wanted to go, but I hesitated a bit—this practice was an intense three-hour session.

    Once I return to Tokyo, I have to continue preparing for my move. Clothes, daily necessities—I need to start packing them into boxes soon. There’s hardly any time to relax, either physically or mentally. I also received a message from the real estate company about the dimensions of the stove space, window size, refrigerator space, and the position of the TV antenna outlet. Since it’s hard to find time while in Osaka, I was considering buying at least the stove and curtains in Tokyo and shipping them to Osaka. Things are starting to feel hectic.

    Even though I wanted to rest my tired body, I couldn’t suppress my desire to play tennis. So, from the Shinkansen bound for Tokyo, I replied that I would join the practice.

    By now, I’ve gotten used to it, but there are still so many foreign tourists near Kyoto Station. Around the Shinkansen ticket gates, the sound of suitcase wheels rolling along the floor accompanies the train status announcements in both Japanese and English. The Friday night Shinkansen to Tokyo was nearly full.

    I arrived home around 8:30 PM. Since I had already eaten dinner, I had a brief chat with my wife before stepping into a room cluttered with moving boxes. Pushing through my exhaustion, I packed my racket into my bag.