Afternoon Tea With "M"

"M" is an idealist, just like me. I first met "M" back in early January this year. He had just come back from his pilgrimage to the middle east over the winter holidays: "Christmas in Kabul" was the theme of his travel last year. M is one of those who value collecting experiences in life versus the accumulation of material wealth, false prestige, and superficial acquaintances. And I admire his lifestyle choices, which is one of the reasons that I enjoy his company even though he can be very intense, cynical, sarcastic, and dry. Underneath his intensity, he does, however, have a good sense of humour.

He's just serious by nature.

M knows that my brother is behind bars, and his take on this situation for me was:"Would you quit trying to run your brother's life?".

His statement was probably the most sensible, honest advice that I got over my brother's fiasco.

In the end my brother got off with a 3 year suspended sentence. It didn't stop him from drinking and driving that evening. Once again he was lucky to get off scott-free, but I think that it is probably only a matter of time before something else comes up with him... namely tax evasion. Today I have other things to worry about in my life: me.

**************************************************************

Today I no longer have my afternoon tea sessions with M, for he has left the country to pursue his dream of starting his own internet business in the western orient. I still get emails from him frequently... always with sound advice on many things.

I miss my afternoon mini-lectures/discussions with M...

Busted!!

No, not me. I'm still here. It's my younger brother, BK, who got busted for possession of 34g (just over 1 ounce) of marijuana, and 5 plants, three of which were post harvest. The legal system in this country is draconian to say the least. My brother was arrested on March 2nd, when the police came to his home with a search warrant, and he has been in solitary confinement with no access to the outside world apart from his lawyer who can talk to him only through a perspex wall.

And ofcourse his conversations with his legal council are monitored by the po-leeese.

If you are caught growing pot in this country, the pigs try to automatically add a bonus to your possession charges called "with intent to supply" and the judge has deferred his access to us twice. I remember doing some research ages ago on how the police handle detainees -- i.e. people who have not officially been charged with a criminal offence. It ain't pretty...

Although my brother's arrest was on March 2nd, and legally he cannot be detained without access to family for more than 22days, the legal system conveniently discounts weekends as a "day". His lawyer told me that the earliest that we could possibly see him will be at his bail hearing on either March 28th or 29th. If he's granted bail it will be somewhere in the order of 1.5million yen (US$13K) to 3million max (US$26K). That's IF the judge decides that he can go between now and his court cases...

To top it all, we all have to hide this from his company, his girlfriend ends up in hospital with inflamed kidneys from the stress, the wench mum has turned into a zombie, his assistant is rushing around left, right, and centre to keep the lid on things....

I don't need this in my "early" sobriety.

I will be 5 months sober tomorrow. And I guess that my brother, when he gets out, will be joining me at my NA meetings too....

I'm too fucking tired of sobriety. When will it END!!! (I need to get away from this crazy shit for a permanent holiday the sun.)

Inventory Management and Drugeconomics

Yes, once again I am pissed off. This time I am pissed off at the convinience store "consumer business" industry.

There is a brand of energy bar/cereal bar that I found at AM-PMs that I really like; it's got rice crispies, dried fruit, and covered in excuisite white chocolate. There is also my local Family Mart that sold boxes and boxes of Granola Bars which is also something that I like to eat. In fact on most days all I eat are the white chocolate energy bars and granola bars. (yes, I have a very strange diet). Before I went to Oz I could find my food stash by the dozens at these convinience stores with NO trouble, and I would often go out and buy my nutrients in large batches "just in case" I ran out -- a sensible move, considering what has happened to the drastic shift in availability since my return from Australia.

These FECKERS DONT HAVE *MY FOOD* ON STOCK!!!!! I have gone to the local family mart for the past 6 days and not one single box of Granola bars was on the shelf at any time of the day! Instead, some dip-shit decided to order 8 boxes of Branflakes instead (can you believe it?). Branflakes. And those 8 boxes have not moved since Wednesday when I first went back in there to stock up on my granola bars. Why do I know they have not shifted? I noticed that the box on top was slightly damaged, and that damaged box has been there - right on top of the pile - all this time.

I don't need a degree in economics, or business administration, to work out that if I am selling a lot of one thing, I should order some more of the same shit before it runs out. I do not suddenly decide to order Butt-pluggers like "branflakes", in large volume, that shift about as slowly as they do in the human digestive system. Whose the procurement planner for my local family mart? I want to sit them down and give them a pep talk about slow moving and obsolete inventory (SLOB) versus fast moving, high turnover stock that brings in the cash -- FAST -- and reduces your liability (i.e. shit sitting around that doesn't sell). Even junked up crack dealers who consume over half their "stock" know not to go out and score a litre of Methadone to push onto their "customers". Most of them are going to move their "loyalties" as fast as I can say "Smack, Crack, and Pot" and get their precious rocks from somewhere else.

And as for the AM-PM that no longer stocks my favourite cereal bar... I know your marketing strategy. I know that you buy new stuff to see if it sells, and if it does, you just cut the supply, create a drought, and bring it back on the shelves when the demand is soooo high that if you hitch up the prices by a small-ish margin you expect us, the consumers, to not notice. Yeah, and we are so into your commodity that we will pay any price to get it. And you know it too... Sneaky buggers! You're like the drug barron, or "governments" who have a lot of support from the agricultural industry, who just holds onto the commodity so that the market is dry for a while, claiming some BS, like "oh we have had poor supply this year from the producers" as you create mountains and mountains of the goodies in some out of the way warehouse, and suddenly flood the market with your stash that now costs 20% more. And yes, we are sooooo stupid enough to buy your crap at hiked up prices because we NEED IT by the time you make it available to us.

Convinience Store Managers my arse!!! You are just ex-drug dealers who are now working in a "legit' biz" because you either got busted and sentenced to X hours community service working in the local convinience store, or you were so junked up that you couldn't multi-task your habit and the illicit drug-trading industry, and are only academically qualified to work as the manager of a franchise convinience store!! Whichever way, you all piss me off!!

Why am I pissed off? It's coz I can't get my stash of cereal bars/granola bars anymore!! Get it straight, boys and girls! Jeez, no wonder I have a college degree and a normal job. But if I ever get fired, I know can always fall back and use my BS. in Drugeconomics (with Hon.) from the University of Skid Roof, London.

Blast From The Past

I was looking back at my new year's resolution from 2005 only to realise that I kept 10 out of the 19 promises that I made to myself. WOW! That's over 50%!!!

Sweeeeeeet!

Now I could be a sweet person and let you know which ones I kept, but I will just be me and leave it to your imagination as to what I did and didn't manage to do last year.

Ok, it's a bit too late for a "New Years Resolution" but might as well make them, just so that I can break them, I guess...

1. Bitch less. Yes, I *am* aware that I complain a lot, but when I am pissed off I always feel that I have a justification, which is probably not a good sign.
2. Spend less. It sounds strange coming from someone who hates shopping, but I did buy that really expensive persian rug last year...
3. Work harder(?). Umm... yes, I do slack off at times. I just don't mention it here.
4. Stay away from trouble. (Not that I got into trouble last year, or the year before, and the year before that, I guess.)
5. Call the Wenchmum at least once a week. And I promise not to make a reverse charge call to her.
6. Take less benzodiazepines. I shouldn't really be tripping on diazepam at the office when things are slow, right?
7. Eat more healthily. Sustaining on bread, soup, cereal bars, and fruit juices is probably not too good for my skin.
8. Exersise as much as I did the year before last. I haven't done any excersise since Oct. 2005, which is probably not good for my metabolism.
9. Sort out my library. (That's just given you a hint about what I didn't do last year.)
10. Write more. I guess I didn't write much last year on this blog, huh? I've got far too many blogs going all over the place at various sites; I'm so scattered and inconsistent that I really need to just focus on a few things and stick to it, I guess. So I will probably pull the plug on a few over the course of a few days, weeks, or months.

So I guess that's it. We'll see how many I can keep this year -- if I can do 6, that's an improvement from last year, and I think I will be happy with that. See! I'm not bitching already! But there again, I have to wait till Dec. 31st before I can say that I bitched less this year, I s'pose...

Back Before You Knew I Was Gone

I just came back from the Australia, where I attended a 1/2 day conference in the Gold Coast, and 2 day meeting with my colleagues in Sydney. It was just so refreshing to be in the southern hemisphere basking in the sun on most days, only to come back to the shitty weather in Tokyo...

Yeah, why is it that I live in this cold weather?

I should be genetically acclimatised to warm/hot, high altitude, equatoral environments with two seasons -- dry and wet, but where have I lived? Cold, miserable lowlands with 4, or 5 seasons, all of which are relatively cold. Now how does that work out? Why are most "industrialised" places located in areas predisposed to shitty weatherfronts? Whose stupid idea was it to build a city of over 12 million people in a place that has 6 seasons (winter, spring, typhoon 1, summer, typhoon 2, autumn) and sits on a junction of 3 tectonic plates? (yes, we have a minor earthquake every month)

Ok, today I am pissed off because I had to go through Syndey airport and buy a bottle of wine for my friends and my brother, but none for me. I had to just walk past the gallons and gallons of beautiful booze that oooooozed yumminess, and a good drunken night with my DWFs, and just "Let Go, and Let God"... (?!)I mean, I just sat in a warm, dry, easygoing fun place like the Gold Coast, even though it was for work, only to return to a cold miserable high risk city via a rack of duty free booze???

Not fair...

(If there *is* a god, and it's reading this blog, would you please just remove the alocoholic, junkie gene from me so that I can just carry on with my life like a NORMAL person??? Thx. DWR)

Dedication To Isis, The Godess of Love

(I wrote this poem for a wonderful friend back in March last year, and I never got the chance to share it with him. Today I wanted to share it with you after I revisited it. I'm not a poet, but I thought I wanted to share with you the way I feel about the eternal subject of love... I hope you like it. DWR)


"Only Without Darkness Can We See Light"

Only without sight can we hear the lark sing at dawn,
or the watch the cuckoo find a friendly host for rearing its offspring,
or understand two swans, soulmates, dancing by the lake to show their eternal love,
Their love that extended beyond Venus' gaze during the cool summers.

Only without warmth can we appreciate the long lazy afternoons
spent lazily in the parks feeding our lovers sweet stawberries,
and drinking spicy champaigne as we watch small children bath in the cool pools.
Their parents watching over with love that cannot be unbridled.

Only without enlightenment can we appreciate that time is abstract.
Time with names like "O'clock" "Seconds" or "Days" bear no relevance, for the sun is shining and providing humanity with all the energy for suvival,
For you, for me, and for all our progeny.

Only without pain can we apprecate the feeling of release;
Pain in our heart, pain in our bowels, but wherever the pain,
Without experiencing such at least once in one's live,
We will live a life of regret and sorrow, for
Only without darkness can we see light.

Close your eyes and reminesce of the days that you were torn, tears streaming from your eyes. That green boulder of jealousy and anger growing each and every day inside of you that which you cannot control.
But remember also that without darkness there will be no light;
and without light, there will be no shadow to remind you of the pain.
Only when we heal from our wounds that we can look back,
Smile, and remember that only without darkness, can we see light.

========================================

I didn't write this in a depressive state; I wrote it when I was starting to feel optimistic and came to realise that waking up every morning, looking up at the ceiling I no longer prayed to God, or the universal energy in my case, why they had not grantd my wishes, and let me die in peace.

Today, I wake up, open my eyes and check that I'm still alive, because I no longer have a death wish. I want to live - shitty life or not, but the point is that I want to live, because I know what lurks in the darkness.

I want to thank my dear friend, O, for inspiring me to write this poem in the first place. Tnank you dear friend, for giving me hope.

Wassgoinon???

Yeah, what IS going on in my life? I just realised that I haven't really written anything this year! Shit, there has to be something I can bitch or rant on about; life can't possibly be peaceful and "happy, happy, joy, joy" all day long?!?

'Course it's not. Today I am pulling a sickie, and the BS that I gave my boss today is that I have "deblitating period pains". It's true that I have the "painters in" but is it keeping me in bed? Nah, I am happily going up and down the stairs to feed the cats, get myself coffee, go to the loo, etc.

It's just that I can't be arsed to go into the office when it's raining and dreary outside. I can sit here quite happily working from home and spending a few moments to just sit here and blog about everything and nothing.

Every time its dark and dreary outside and my motivation has gone down the rubbish shoot faster than a bag of stash in a drug raid, I always remember the Carpenters song: "rainy days and mondays always gets me down". Yeah, shit, Karen, you got it straight darling! Rainy days and mondays gets me down too, and isn't it ironic that both of us have problems with eating.

Yeah, and you feel really, really down when you flush your stash down the toilet, or throw it down the rubbish shoot thinking that you are busted for possession only to realise that the violent banging on your door accompanied by "POLICE, OPEN UP!" were just your drugged up friends pulling a prank on you coz they've taken so much speed that they've been up for the past 52hours, and they have nothing better to do.

And today it's not the speed freaks and their silly pranks that get me down... it's rainy days and mondays. I guess I've moved upwards (somehow) in life, huh?

Warped Valentines...

Yup, today's that day when MEN give gifts to WOMEN as a way of expressing their feelings of love and affection. Usually they are flowers or chocolate; sometimes it's a bit more but in general it's the boys who shower their girlfriends with gifts and all is lovey-dovey, full of hearts, full of kisses, and well... all is rosey, even though it's so commercial these days that the clued up people get pissed off with "Hallmark" ads that bombard our airwaves as soon as the Christmas/New Years' fever is over.

Well, gentlemen of the West, and anywhere on this planet where my previous discription is the "norm" I am going to reveal to you what "equal rights" and "feminist movements" perversly misinterpreted by the commerecial sector, and by stubborn, sexist men have manifested in my country: "Balenta'in Day (Valentine Day)" and "Howaito Day (White Day)".

So what happens on Balenta'in Day in Japan? Women give out chocolate to men. And there are two types of "gifts": "Honmei" chocolate, and "Giri-choco". Women give out Honmei chocolate to their boyfriends, husbands, and basically men that they have a romantic interest in, and the Giri-choco is handed out to any bloke that you know -- usually it's given out to your colleagues, casual friends, school mates, etc. It sounds crazy when considering that among the developed nations the average income of a woman is only 55% that of men according to the World Bank's World Development Report (2003, I think, but let me confirm...) So basically we earn less than men and have to hand out chocolate to the male population like the World Food Program hands out rice and grains to developing countries. And just like these "International Funding" organisations, (and life in general, I guess) nothing is given out for free - especially the "Giri-choco". The word "Giri", literally translated to "duty of gratitude" implies that there are strings attached to the Godiva truffles that are handed to you.

And that's where "Howaito Day" comes into play.

"Howaito Day" (white day) is on March 14th, and this is the day when the men who received the chocolate bonbons give the low income earners (that's women to you) chocolates in return. And in general we receive white chocolate just to go with the name of the "honourable payback day". How fucked is that?! I knew that we lived in a hyper consumerist society, but using a saint's day to sell chocolate, flowers, and cards AND creating another non-existing saint's day to sell even MORE commodities!!!

(I wonder if the Vatican gets kick-backs from Hallmark, Godiva, and all the rose growers' association/lobby group?)

And if anyone's wondering? NO! I didn't give out a single thing today (apart from my piece of mind on the matter of cheesy, phoney meanlingless customs), because unlike last year, this year I don't have anyone to give a proper valentine's gift: the one with no strings attached.

(again...)

Splittin' Headache

I've had this SPLITTIN' Headache now for nearly a month. I've got no idea where it came from, or what it's doing here. It's like a migratory bird that found it's "breeding ground" for the spring and is dancing around to empty music looking for a mate so that it can lay eggs and raise it's young in my cranium. And there are lots of these fuckin' birds in my head which is pissing me OFF!! (well, so far the only consolation is that these headache birds have not shat all over my brain. Now I will *NOT* be a happy camper if that happens!)

OK, strange metaphores of crappin' birds aside, merry christmas, happy new year, and all that Jazz to everyone and anyone. My name is DWR, and I am living everyday with a fucking headache. Please don't mind me, I'll be fine. What? Have I tried Tylenol Plus? No. I'm allergice to non-steroidal anti-imflammatory drugs. To you and me that's aspirin, ibuprofen, acetoaminophen, etc. The only pain killers I can take are opioids -- yes. The codienes and the morphines and the cool funky drugs that no one will give me because I'm a bit of a junkie...

Oh, I've tried Imigrane just in case it's a migraine; it does nothing but cost me lots of money so I said "sod that" and left it sitting in my medicine cabinet. They won't give me refund on drugs that don't work.

Bastards!

But there again... street level drug dealers don't give you refund when they sell you crap drugs that are cut with Baby Lax so I shouldn't really expect any different from the guys that have a "license" to sell.

I like that: "Licensed Drug Dealers".

(oh yeah... I'm one of those too in the UK!! Shit, I forgot.)

The Juicy Gossip

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Shingles, Asthma, Fractured Ribs, and Rehab...

There you have it; that's my life for the past month and a bit now. I redeveloped shingles, the topical medication prescribed to me triggered my asthma, I was coughing and grasping for air so much that I fractured my rib, and now I am on the Wagon (again) because my body is just telling me to fuck off with the boozing and all the other abuse.

(If only I could have a conversation with my liver and my immune system, I would tell *them* to fuck off and do their job, otherwise they will be fired and replaced by a contractor, or even outsourced to India!!)

Oh yeah, and I am now back to being single again. In the end things just didn't work out with R. so I am back to my old life of me, my cats, and my library full of books.

My body is telling me to sleep now (yes, my body has me right underneath its thumb, so to speak) so I will continue with the "what happened to DWR and the guy she was dating???" story tomorrow.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

THAT'S IT!! NO MORE FUCKIN' SPAM!!!

Unfortunately it has been my fault for neglecting this site for a while and letting those spammin' bastards defecate on my site. Well fuck off to you, spammers, I hope you die a horrible death.

Anyway, back to the pleasant me. I have been working, wheezing, hanging out with my boyfriend and doing anything that a normal 30something person does. I came back from San Francisco in one piece, my job is getting a little bit mundane, but bearable, and I look forward to holding hands with Randy (my boyfriend) on our way home.

Aaaaahhh.

BUT there is one complaint I have of Randy. He semi-lives in my house and is already got plans to redecorate it with his high-tech electronic garb. First he wants a 65 inch TV in my living room (which will end up covering two of my windows in the living room) surround sound 7.1. Wireless speakers everywhere so that I can listen to music on the toilet, TV in the bedroom, oh, and ofcourse wireless internet hotspot with our own firewall, or something, robotic vacuum cleaner that runs around all day cleaning the house, and a DVD cam corder to film me doing mundane things like chopping up vegetables (and a little bit more, which I will leave to your imagination...)

I live in a "girly" house with flowers on my wallpaper, salmon pink walls and a chandelier, it would be tasteless to have a hybrid of a Barbie Doll House and the inside of the Starship Enterprise!!! I know I am going to lose the battle of the TV, but I will have no larger than a 32inch!!! I will get an antique chest and a very large painting on the wall so there is NO TV in the bedroom, and if he wants to set up his network security and WIFI and encrypted locks on our windows. I will concede.

Is this what it's like to be married to Bill Gates??

Fashionably Late

I forever seem to be fashionably late. My flight leaves at 16:10, but I am still on the way to the airport at 3pm. ETA? Sometime around 15:40.... Oh well, I'm going by business class and I have no check-in luggage; do not really care.

I'm tired as fuck....

Off to San Fransisco for a 2 day meeting. Only TWO DAYS and I am back. Like I said, tired as fuck. I hope they have loads of booze on the flight; I know United... they tend to be tight.

From Speed Dating To Building Shelves

I just realised that my life is extremely unstable, and very dynamic. Not long ago I was extremely single and looking to go on something as out of character as Speed Dating, and next thing I know I have handed the spare keys to a man who spends nearly half of the week at my place.

WTF?

One of the things about working long hours and being a workaholic (along with having other "-holic" traits) is that even if you are working in the same office as the man you are dating/seeing you just never have the time to see them. Even if you are working on the SAME FLOOR... well, you just don't see them. Today was the first time this month that I saw "R" at the office.

And yes, he does work on the same floor as me.


Anyway, I was wondering how things progress in life considering that R and I have become close over the past few weeks. Failed speed date => date that went well => Dating (in general) => spending nearly 3 or 4 days a week together =>...

Spare Keys.

That's the thing isn't it? When you give the spare keys to your home to someone, it seems to show that you are involved with them on a more permanent basis. I used to get Nick's spare keys at times and wonder "hang on, I know him only Xmonths, but he trusts me with his keys...."

I wonder how Nick is these days....

Psycho Bitch: The Sting

Ok, back from my bout of depression and self pity; sorry bout that.

So let's get back to Satomi Tiger. Satomi Tiger was the reason why I ended up crying and cutting my hair. She was the one who set me off on a "oh I need to start dating again" mode, and she was the reason why I ended up signing myself up for something as sad and rediculous as Speed Dating.

Yes, that's her. That's the one.

Anyway, after A did his naughty deeds (i.e. fucked her sensless -- I hope he did her up the rear entrance!) and dumped Satomi T. he started to get strange emails and phonecalls (you know the crazy calls you get from "breathers" or "hang-up-as-soon-as-they-pick-up'ers" at 2am?) The calls and emails have now escalated and expanded to it's new target: DWFs!!(yes, that is us...)

We recieved as strange email from an unknown Pop-mail account from a mysterious, "A" asking us if we are seeing him?!? Now A is my friend, but I would not *want* to jump into bed with him -- if I did, I think I would have done it a long time ago. Right? But it's got to a point where we know that the only suspect for these mysterious calls/emails can only be one person: Satomi Tiger. There is only one person who is a suspect in this case -- we don't know too many people who know all three of us, DWFs, and yet is insecure about the "status" of our friendship.

So I decided to play "cat and mouse" with the naughty little "purty tat"... It's all quite simple, actually: I also created a phantom Pop-mail account, and sent her emails pretending to be my friend, Y. And I know that you may think that this is just simply not going to work: for the record, the Psycho Bitch has responded and is now asking me loads of questions about my "relationship" with A. How daft can this woman be??? And to top it all, when I mentioned that A has a girlfriend of nearly 2 years (also a fabrication), the response was that they were going to switch to a new account so that we can continue our "chats".

And she has not written back since.

I'm sorry, but if you are going to turn into a jealous, insecure person, at least do it in style, like I do! I would go for the full hog, do an attempted suicide, take loads of booze and drugs -- even send some in the post to them -- and I will definately NOT hang up the phone when my ex's friends pick it up at 3am. I would talk about the medication that keeps me sane (ok, there is some truth in this one) and that if I didn't take them, there are voices telling me that I saw a baby being born out of a beer bottle, and that my Higher Power has told me to "waste my time making your life miserable..."

The woman is a whimp; but I am in someways glad that she came to her semi-senses.

(I never knew how many people needed medication on a daily basis to function normally. Satomi Tiger and her actions make me feel NORMAL!!!")

Intermission... (Real Post In A Mo' But Bear W/Me For A Mo)

Why is it that I go about sabbotaging happiness when I have a good hold of it? Do you fuck up as much as I do on "purpose", i.e. knowingly engage in distructive behaviour? Yesterday I got drunk/high while on the job, hid the fact from my B/F who works on the same floor, went to an AA meeting fucked up as hell, and came back only to drink another bottle of wine till 4am in the morning. And now I am jacking off from the office coz I am tired and hung over... but with a glass of Chablis in one hand.

WTF?

Who made this Drunken Wench? Change her! She needs a good telling off to sort her LIFE out, coz she is doing everything she possibly can to distroy her new found "good life". She has someone in her life who appreciates and loves her, she has a good job, she has friends who care, she has everything that anyone can ask for, but yet she is still doing the same shite!!!!!!!

Stop this bitch, someone!! Anyone!!!

Umm... yes. I am a distructive force onto myself. I should be happily in love, happily in sobriety, happily engaged in my work, happily hanging out with my friends, happily all over the place...

But I am not.

Y? Who knows...

Maybe I am not used to being happy.

(What makes you happy?)

Psycho Bitch: Satomi Tiger

I often find that when things are going relatively well in my life I have a slight writer's block and there is gap in postings on this blog. I must admit that things are relatively smooth in the land of my inner voice, but I do, however, have something to write about: it's to do with one of my friends, A.

I have known A since August 2003 when I first met him in the lift going to the gym of where I used to live. I saw him a few times before I realised that he lived on the floor above me, and that his place was a complete mirror image to mine. Strange, but true. Over the course of the two years that I have known him, we have gone thru many email exchanges, and a few drunken nights bitching about our love lives (or the lack thereof); we are perpetual singletons, and we have always taken scores on who (what?) we date.

Now that I have finished with the brief intro, let's go back to the topic of this post: Psycho Bitch. How many times have you made the mistake of meeting someone at a bar, given them your business card/phone #, only to regret it 1000 times, and over? For me this number is less than the number of digets on my hands, but for A, I would say maybe... hmmm... multiply it by 36: i.e. loads of times.

"A" met Psycho Bitch (let's call her Satomi Tiger) around May/June this year; it was a normal encounter between a man and a woman in a bar on a friday night. Life would have been fine had A *not* given his business card to a mentally unstable woman in her early 30s desparate to find both a husband and a spare "wallet" to pay for her medication, which I imagine she would have to rely upon for the rest of her life.

Ok, I exaggerate, but you get my point, right?

"A" gave his card, got laid, and now he has issues trying to get rid of Satomi Tiger; I wish that I could say that Satomi could withdraw gracefully from A, and now from my life...

But things are just not that simple is it...

Why the fuck is Satomi Tiger involved in my life? Good point. Why is she???

(... to be continued when I am 1) sober, 2) not tired... it's very late/early right now.)

Speed Dating -- The Conclusion

Shall I begin at the end, and end at the beginning? Or shall I start at the beginning and end at the end... Nah, let's start somewhere in the middle, coz it makes the most sense that way.

As some of you already know I had a place at a Speed Dating event last Saturday. The event was supposed to start at 6pm and last to 8:30pm; I, together with 14 other women, was supposed to meet 15 men who I could chat to for 5 mins each. After each "date" we would fill in a score card, which the event organisers would collect, and if there was a match -- voila! We have a chance at romance. Sounds simple enough, right?

Not quite.

About three weeks ago I was invited out to lunch by one of my colleagues who I have been bouldering with, together with other work associates, on Wednesday nights after work. After the second time that we had lunch together, by which time he knew about my upcoming Speed Date, he asked me out to dinner and drinks. Tame enough, I know him, not threatening, and a chance of good companionship and a good conversation over dinner. Totally harmless, right? So I accepted.

Dinner took place on Friday night; I chose the restaurant, an Italian place not far from our office, because I know the owner well. We had a wonderful dinner, followed by drinks (non-alcoholic for me) in a small bar where we were given a small corner table away from all the other customers. Very cozy corner indeed. As the night grew into the early morning we decided to call it an evening: he took me to the nearest taxi queue and we said goodbye to each other... is what I would really love to write but here's what really happened: I went over to give him a hug to say thank you for the evening, but instead I ended up being held in his arms, lost in the moment, suspended in motion like the dense particles in a Barium meal. I do not know how long I was there in his arms, but as we slowly broke off I turned my head to kiss his cheek... but that was not happening. It just felt more natural as I watched his lips for a breath or two, and we ended up kissing quite passionately for a while. Then the spell was broken, and it was time for me to get into my cab.

I went home that night feeling confused, flustered, and excited.

Saturday, the day of the Speed Date, was a hectic day: Yoga at 8:00am, hair appointment at 11:00 am, followed by lunch, and getting ready for the evening's "pièce de résistance" -- Speed Dating. (Oh, and after that I was going to meet the girls to give them a ho-down of all the nitty gritty details about this fascinating event.)

By quarter to Five I was fully made up, and ready to go, but I knew I had at least 30mins to spare, so I decided to take a small nap considering that I had slept only 3 hours the night before. I set my alarm, put some music on, rested my head on my cushions, and laid down on my comfy sofa...

I never made it to the Speed Dating event, for I slept right through my alarm, my music, my friends calling me... I was off in a dreamy world where there was no need for me to rush thru and psychoanalise 15 men in 75 minutes to see if they were worthy of a second encounter. I did not have to tick off a score card to rate the men that I just interviewed for a position as my boyfriend/lover. None of that shite. Nope. I just slept right thru everything.

In the end I called up all my girlfriends and told them that I slept thru the Speed Date: their conclusion was that there was a good reason WHY I slept thru i.e. I would have been disappointed by the scum and creeps that showed up, so I ended up having a girls's night out at a small bistro. In retrospect, I am more inclined to believe that I fell asleep that Saturday because there really was no need for me to go on a Speed Date. I had already met a nice candidate more than two months ago; it's just taken me *this long* to realise that he was always there to hold me, and to make me feel special. Fuck the Speed Date! I'll just stick to people that really care about me, and see beyond my appearances to share my life with.

So there.

Losing Control

One of the reasons that I have chosen solitude over pursuing a relationship in the past was my inherent fear of losing control of my emotions. It's all too easy to sit in front of the phone, or the PC waiting for that call/email to enter your life; but then there is a split moment when you realise that you shouldn't spend 20mins in front of inanimate objects that may, or may not, deliver messages from people who are on your mind for a large portion of your day. I perceive it as I wasted and lost 20mins of my precious life, and I have nothing to show for it apart from the feeling of shame and foolishness for acting the same way I did as a 14 year old.

So who's email am I waiting for? I'm not entirely sure yet....

The difficulty in letting someone into your life when you are a depressed bulimic with an alcohol problem is that the other party inevitably finds it hard to handle your mood swings, your relapses, your sudden need for total solitude, and, of course, your lifestyle/habits when it comes to food. What does one say on their first date when they have been invited to an expensive restaurant that serves a set course? Or how does one explain the "pill case" that contains 3 or 4 different types of medication that you have to take after every meal? What if you start to see each other more seriously? How do you hide the fact that you are not getting any better, nor do you have the capacity to recover? It's easy for a diabetic to explain their medical condition to their partners, but for some reason there is still a stigma attached to those of us who have a "psychological condition" that is caused by/causes a chemical imbalance in the brain. My condition, just as with diabetes, manifested as a result of both environmental and genetic factors, but why is it that I still live in fear of being exposed?

It's the nature of my condition: it's the nature of me.

Have you ever experienced the feeling of anxiety when you tell a lie to your loved ones, knowing that they may find out one day that you were not entirely honest? Have you ever felt the fear of losing yourself, your identity, as you uncontrollably surrender your entire ethos over to a person that you so dearly love and care about? Have you ever been consumed by your own feeling of inadequacy, the sensation of being a dark cloud, a burden to someone you care that you forcefully withdraw yourself for the sake of protecting the person you care so much?

I was once told by someone that I was intimate with a long time ago, that being with me was like tip-toeing around broken glass; extra care had to be taken not to stand on the glass lest there be more damage done, and also to stop oneself from being cut by one of the sharp, dispersed fragments.

Today, years have past, I am still a piece of a broken glass, I still make people who are close to me tip-toe around me, and I am still waiting for that phone call/email from a stranger who may, or may not enter my life. I already miss and long for that which I do not have -- or will never have. And inevitably, to avoid pain from disappointment, abandonment, and a broken heart I become a recluse who communicates only with their inner voice...

Slowly but surely, I am losing control. I am losing control of both my mind, and my heart. And this time, not even my sobriety is going to get me out of my own madness.

Antacid

The planet let out a burp today not too far from where I live. The belch originated from near the surface of the earth's crust, somewhere in the pacific ocean about 300km from my office. I know that 300km does not sound near at all, but in terms of the earth's linear distance? It's about as close to me as the next cubicle.

*Burp*

Recently, we've been experiencing a large number of earthquakes in the Kanto region of Eastern Japan. There was one about 2 weeks ago: things fell from shelves; the airports were closed for nearly 4 hours; and the residents of Tokyo were left thinking:"When's the next Big One?", for the Kanto plains have experienced large, devastating earthquakes that come in a 70year cycle for centuries. The last one was in 1923, which means that we are now 12 years overdue.

Our building was shaking for a good 5 mins, and the creeking sound went on for another 10. Most people stood by their desks wondering if it was going to get worse, or better, and I suppose out of fear all looked at each other for some form of moral support.

Me? I headed for the door which has a lock that operates on an electromagnet; if we lose power during the quake, we would all be stuck in the engine room of this building for a very long time, and I was not prepared to drink stale Evian that I use to water my plants, or eat my stash of dusty gummy-bears given to me by a colleague long before they realised that I do not like to eat sweets. I was going to open the door, and keep it that way till the tremour subsided.

"DWR. Why are you at the door?" was the response of the CIO's PA when she saw me standing at the door.

"Escape route."

"Oh, you are soooooo calm!"

Little does she know that I too was trembling inside, for I did not want to die in a building with strangers away from my family and cats. I wanted to live. I still do...

**************************************************

A cherished alcoholic friend of mine once told me that whenever he drank bad liquor, he would get wind. The solution that he had for his embarassing condition was to take chewable Antacid. After today's little scare, all I can say is that I hope the planet has enuf stash of Antacid to last another 70+ years (i.e. long after I am dead and gone) without beltching on my turf.

*Burrrrrp*