If a man we don't know phones us up today and talks a little, makes no suggestions, says nothing special, but nevertheless pays us the kind of attention we rarely receive, we're quite capable of going to bed with him that same night, feeling relatively in love. That's what we women are like, and there's nothing wrong with that - it's the nature of the female to open herself to love easily.

 

- Coelho

I was sitting at work staring off into space and this guy came over to me and said:

 

Don't worry. He loves you. I have a gut feeling about it.

 

and he walked away...

 

odd.

Perceptions....How we see things and interpret them are so important to the way we deal, cope.... We can look at a steam pattern in the window and perceive it to be the face of Jesus, or a blob. We choose what we see whether it be subconsciously or not. We can stare at the bumps on the ceiling and see a heart, or a cloud or a dog... watch the way a strand of hair falls to the floor and looks like a donut... the limits of this fall not with the boundaries of shapes and patterns, more so with the possibilities that our imagination allows.

 

If only, for a little while, I could stifle my imagination. Quiet the rumblings in the dark and the uncertainty. I hate uncertainty, it makes me act like a girl.

 

I miss those conversations that used to lull me into sleep. The ones right before bed when you're wanting to pass out, and yet you can't...where a calming voice and good conversation take the place of a teddy bear or security blanket. The voice you hear just as your head hits the pillow.... being the voice that someone wants to hear before their head hits the pillow...

 

Had an interesting converstion with D last night that seemed to last for hours. You know those ones where you know you should get off the phone because your ear is all warm, but you just can't because you just have one more thing to say. One more idea to interject, one more point to get across... but he brought up an interesting point, or two, or three, or four thousand as always... (stupid pop psychology books)...I think the basics of it was in order to make anything work you have to take into consideration what the other people need and not just assume that it is the same as you....and then he asked me what I needed. it's an interesting dilemma to consider and since I had ample time to myself today, I accomplished a lot of thinking. Which may or may not be a good thing.

 

Take for example the "cry baby" for lack of a better psuedonym....I think my friends and I all agreed that he was a little bit psycho in the I will call you 19 times in one day just to see what you are up to kind of way. The, I will get mad at you for stupid little things that don't have anything to do with you. The constant need to be around, hanging around, wiith little or no backbone to stand up for himself and say no. Annoying? Perhaps to me... but you know what? Some girls like that sort of thing. A devoted little puppy to follow them around and tell them how great and fantastic they are. Some girls NEED that in their lives. He needed that (even just being friends, I don't even want to imagine what it would have been like had I have dated the dude)... In dealing with all that, I kind of came to a small sort of realization (besides the fact that girls are fully messed in the head and that we really don't have a clue as to what we want either)...  I don't really need anyone to kiss my ass on a constant basis. I can inflate my own ego thank-you-very-much.... but at the same time, some people might perceive his actions as being cute, sweet and a testament to the fact that he really did like me. This means you N....

 

Which got me to thinking... there is something to be said for the attention. I need to know. I need some attention....not a lot. Just some.  A moment where they tell you that you're beautiful (when you're not naked and when you are). Or that they're thinking of you.... you know? just that small bit to let you know that you are special and that perhaps you should stick around and see what happens instead of running for the hills because you're deathly afraid of getting hurt yet again. Or because you're afraid of ducks.

 

The wall of sarcasm rises as a defense mechanism. Crack a joke or two to ease the uncomfortableness of awkward conversation... did you hear the one about the sailor?

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'Tis a strange thing to find yourself in an unfamiliar place. The lighting glows differently on your skin, the sweat on your feet has a whole new stench. Foreign food in your tummy... even your farts seem odd, different...

 

The silence in my brain, something all too new. I bet if you put your ear up to mine you could hear the ocean.. waves crashing on the folds of my brain, water seeping in slowly. Usually it's a bustling place of activity. Worry, stress, happiness, random retarded thoughts, laughter... Not tonight.

 

The chipmunk sleeps in the log.

 

Seriously considering soldering my vagina closed. That way I'll keep out of trouble.

I'm sure you all really wanted to know that didn't you?

 

...__..........._......_...------....-.-.-.-.-----....---...---...---..-..--__........__..........._......_...------....-.-.-.-.-----....---...---...---..-..--__........__..........._......_...------....-.-.-.-.-----

Working all day. I come home, go out to KG's birthday and head home.... must admit it was nice seeing everyone again. It's been a while since I've actually been out and about.

 

Anyways, driving home after Gmann drives me to get my car. I turn into the subdivision and all of a sudden there's this asshole tailgating me. Like so close if I even stopped quickly I'd get rearended. I slow down to a crawl and try to turn into my driveway, when he decides that all of a sudden he will pass me on the left hand side. I almost hit him and instinct takes over so I honk. He stops and backs up slowly and all the while I'm sitting in my car going "shit oh shit oh shit..." he starts to yell at me and then I roll down my window (for some strange reason) and he stops, looks at me and smiles and says "heeeeey sweetheart where are you going?"

 

SO odd, but every bit of me wanted that drunken fool off the road. You could smell the booze from across his car and into mine... he reeked so badly. I finally convince him to pull over and park his car and that I'd give him a ride to his friend's place..which he finally agrees to after asking me time and time again where his car will be in the morning.

 

I pretty much drive him there, drop him off and drive home..and it's about halfway home that I realize that I'm a complete moron and could have been murdered during any of that time... cna't really explain why I did it. All I know is that there was this weird feeling that I really needed to get him off the road.

 

Today at work...

 

Sunny: you need to put the lipgloss away and help me. i'm a member right now...

me: you want some?

Sunny: no I have my own, it smells like skittles

me: no it doesn't

Jill: yea it kind of does

me: so do you put it on for the ladies and say "taste the rainbow"?

 

Also, a "what the hell do you say" kind of moment happened the other day. This lady came in to buy glasses with a full on goatee. She startes trying on frames and asking me what I think of them.. we finally (after a good 30 minutes) find a frame that suits her and her prescription and she looks in the mirror and says " I want it to look nice for when I dress up. Right now is not a good judge because I haven't shaved my goatee today."

 

Me...completely dumbfounded stands there with my mouth wide open wondering how the hell I am supposed to respond to that. Yet I am not really surprised. Before I started working where I do I wasn't aware that there was such a large percentage of the female population that had to worry about facial hair. Yet, the number of times that I have seen a lady come in with a beard, moustache, goatee or sideburns rivalling that of any testosterone driven male that I have ever encountered absolutely astounds me....

 

I had a thought. It swam around in my mind, escaped through my ear and evaporated.

 

For the longest time I've felt like I've swallowed a cactus. There is sits in the middle of my throat, prickling, scratching, a big ugly lump. It feels as though I just want to scream, hurl, growl, laugh, sing, swallow and wretch all at the same time.

 

With everything and anything it's always the same.

 

As someone told me before, if you look at the bigger picture, does it really matter? I guess not. And I guess that's why we're drawn to certain people. For instance you. I am not sure whether or not it's because I am pretty sure you don't give a shit, the fact that you act like you don't give a shit, or because you really don't care and really do have no feelings... but the mere fact that I don't have to talk about it, I don't have to face it when I'm around you or talking to you is a welcome reprieve. It's a complicated thing, because in one instance you want to tell everyone around you, just so you can get it off your mind and possibly sleep a full night. Yet at the same time you want to tell no one, because you feel as though no one undertands, or you don't want the pity. The "I'm sorrys" ... the pat on the back... the suggestions as to how to deal...

 

My mom has pretty much lost all her hair. Minus the small patch on the crown of her little pointed head. I cried. She looked like Gollum. Bits of bald mixed with fine wisps of hair, randomly situated...  slowly, one by one they fell, floated to the floor and were swept away. I still find them every where. On the couch, in the laundry, on my towels... I was angry for a long time. Cancer was like a death sentence in this family up until now. One by one you see them lying in the hospital bed. Yellow. Tubes. Drugged up. Machines hiss and swish around them as they babble incoherently. Watching someone who used to carry you around, pull you up and down the street in a little red wagon waste away into nothing more than a pale skeleton hopped up on morphine is not an easy thing. I sat in the hospital after my mom's surgery with my dad. Watching the IV drip slowly as she slept. For the first time I saw her as something other than my mom... she's the go-to person whenever trouble strikes. She's the rock... but this time was different. I tried to keep it all inside. I tried to ignore it, because for the longest time she looked okay. For the longest time I could just pretend it was fine...and i guess we all know how that turned out. Me bawling in the middle of school. Me with insomnia. Me not really knowing how to deal. Everyone tells me to write about it. To talk about it. To be strong. All I want to do is tell them to fuck off. I don't know what to write. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to be strong.

 

The only thing I know is that I will be okay. That I am okay. And eventually.. she will be too.

 

In some strange way.... thank you for not caring. For being my escape.

Life offers us these amazing chances. Experience and opportunity around the corner, wing from trees like monkeys playing. It is up to us to decide if we take these chances, grab the vines and swing..or just stand idly by and watch from the ground where it's safe. Live or squander. The ever present question lurks. From the madness of my mind. I've often wondered how I got here. Why I'm not at point B yet. But I don't think I even know where point B is. Does it even exist? A year or two goes by so quickly. Jumping from place to place only to land back home. Three... four goes by. You meet people and you love. You always will. Yet...

 

There is no play by play. No rule book to follow or coach yelling from the sidelines telling you where to go or what to do. There's no reason why I like playing video games, watching stupid movies that make me laugh .. or why I like drinking beer more than coolers. No one can tell me what to do with the weirdo that calls me. Or why the ones that you want are the ones that don't want you or are emotionally unavailable, or have no emotions... and yet the ones that do, you don't want.

 

You live the only way you know how. You follow your heart. Logic? psshht.. what the hell is that?

Chewed up and spit out by reality. We always get back up.

Is there really such a thing?

Say perhaps, in your wanderings you happen upon a nice vase. Sitting there in the sun looking pretty, smart and funny. You pick it up, take it home and prominently display it on your mantle...

 

a few months pass and you're bored of looking at the same vase day in and day out.. you pick it up to take it out to the curb and in doing so you accidentally slip and drop it on the ground. Shattering it to a hundred pieces.

 

You can glue all you want, will it ever be as good? Or will the hairline cracks and fractures show through it's false bravado, leak water all over the floor and make a mess of the home of the next person that takes it in.

 

Just wondering. 

bleed me dry

twisted words

drained, empty.

 

piece by piece,

moments stolen

languid dreams

and ruthless nights..

 

locked away for fear

or pain

avoidance left

and empty.

 

ambivalance

to cease all.

not to fight for anything.

you're empty.

 

finished, done

end of show.

whatever's left,

you'll never know.

 

because...

it's empty.

We all want to be that girl. The girl... the one that changes the guy, or to word it better, the girl whom the guy wants to change for. We have the same inane picture in our heads since children. Tiny little princesses dancing around the yards in our pink tutus, whirling with our tiaras and Barbie dolls in hand. Prince charming will come one day, and I'm pretty sure we all believe that, or at least as much as possible. Being socially and culturally  force fed an idea, no matter how retarded, does eventually lead one to believe (even if not whole heartedly). We watch as our heroines are saved by the man they love. How the Prince saves Ariel from Ursula... how love saves the beast and turns him into a handsome prince again (in dire need of a haircut, but a prince nonetheless)...

Why couldn't Ursula have just eaten the prince?? Or what happens to Belle and the beast afterwards? Perhaps in the end she finds he has chronic halitosis and bad gas.. leaves him and runs away with the teapot. 

The fairytales and perfection of Hollywood. Projected. Scripted. Lovely. Tender. Sensitive. Passionate. Moments strung together and pushed in our faces and controlled much like a puppet master controls a marionette. It is, about the same time, where we girls figure out that these moments cease to exist in reality that our hearts begin to break. Where we find that boys are as flawed, if not more so than females. Not so much the fact that they are flawed as humans, but more for the fact that they are flawed because they are human. There is no perfect moment. There is no perfect man standing outside your house in the rain holding your favourite flower and telling the world how much he loves you. No fairy tales or white steeds to whisk you away to a far away land where you will rule as prince and princess for all time... No castles, tender love making, moments that make your heart leap so far out of your chest that you have to catch your breath. This is where we become jaded, cynical, insane, cold-hearted bitches. This is where we cease to believe in the power of our feelings and our guts or emotions and we seek out affection, affirmation, confirmation..just something to tell us that we are, in fact, as special as we would like to believe we are. That somewhere deep down inside,  the capability to be loved lurks. And that somewhere, someone wants to be the guy standing in the rain in front of our houses with our favourite flower telling us how much he loves us. We just want it to be you.

And if it ever should arise that it isn't you.. the at least have the balls to tell us. We're big girls. We can handle it. 

M: boys are stinky. I'm sorry you feel so crappy :( Love you. 

There are things in life which you don't really want to hear at certain points in your life...

 

1) you're pregnant 

2) that was great. by the way I have chylamidia.

3) I just ran over your cat, can I use your washroom?

4) your mom has cancer.

 

items 1-3 i could probably deal with on a good day utilizing my resourcefulness, a coat hanger, some drugs and perhaps a baseball bat or baby grand piano. it's the last item on the list that I seem to be having trouble dealing with in a constructive/healthy way. Instead it's made me want to:

 

a) cry

b) scream

c) punch random strangers in the face

d) just punch people in general

e) cry some more

d) try to feed my mom SPAM thinking it's a magical cure

 

I always told her that I'd have her cryogenically frozen so that she would outlive me, because in some sort of twisted fate I don't really know what I'd do without her. I guess there's no real way to verbalize this whole weird situation... cancer is something that my grandpas both had and both died of. family members, usually the old and scary ones died of cancer. shrivelled away to nothing in the hospital bed...so hopped up on morphine that they had no idea I was in the room. I remember my grandpa going from huge pot belly to almost my size..and I was 15. it's just not supposed to happen to my mom.

 

bleh. bleh bleh... that's all i can muster up at this point.

Midst chaos, Paris Hilton going to jail and other such inquiries into the deepest parts of one's brain, life and soul...The venom grows stronger as the days wear on. The poison seeping into the veins, taking control..

 

Warning. This heart will self-destruct in 3 seconds.

Boom.

There are those moments, when the sun sets and the sky is temporarily red...moments of nostalgia. Natsukashi... The crazy intricacies of every day life in a place where you feel lost most days...and completely at home others. Where one minute your emotions are soaring high as you're dancing all night with your best friend...only to crash the next day as you ride the train home, weary, tired and still possibly drunk at 6am. I've often wondered how it was that one could feel so alone when surrounded by people that love them, in a place so polite and interesting. It is now as it was then. A romanticized notion, certain memories have been discarded in exchange for the good. The lows have all but been forgotten as the highs overwhelm the senses, flood the emotions and bring about that warm fuzzy feeling inside. There are times when I forget about the first month in Japan. When I forget that I spent that entire month crying, in my bed or at work choking back tears. Or that night in Tokyo where I passed out in the bathroom on the toilet because I was upset about something and Jenny had to crawl under and pull up my pants and unlock the door. The Christmas I spent in my apartment with my friends around me...crying because it was the first Christmas ever that I wasn't home with my family and it just didn't feel right. These moments, to be worn as a badge of honour for the small fact that I survived them? To be forgotten as they show signs of weakness? To be forgiven as they show signs of humanness.

 

I've been trying to figure out the next step in my life from this point forward. In search of some sort of small success or at least something that allows me to stand on my own. But struggling with the idea of more school. Would it be worth it in the end? I'd be a doctor... which has a nice ring to it. Dr. Shannon Okada. School is one thing that I seem to be good at with little or no effort. But the clock ticks, the years pass by so quickly. Is it worth it?

 

How many degrees does one person need in the end?

 

 

 

 

Travy poo and I have a little competition going on these days.

 

It all started the other day when I stayed at his house and the next day he made me pancakes and eggs for breakfast. Then he stayed over here and I made him an omlette and hash browns for breakfast.

 

Yesterday he made some cheese things with tortilla shells and a wad of nachos.. ha ha... and now he says it's my turn.

 

SO.. I have to make something awesome so that I win.

This dude comes into the optical department today and starts to walk behind the counter. Stands there and stares at all the glasses for all the members and asks to buy some glasses cases.

 

He leaves and I'm talking to Dennis and he walks over to me carrying a three pack of eyeglass cleaner (this is Costco remember)...and the following conversation occurs:

 

Him: How long will these last me for?

Me: Depends on how much you use them, and what you use them for.

Him: (pointing at one bottle) this would probably last me a year.

Me: Then it'll last you for three years

Him: (screaming) are you serious?

Dennis: Well you said one bottle would last a year and there are three, so three years

Him: it doesn't go bad?

Me: Not unless you drink it

 

 

I found some stuff I had written in Japan one day.. not sure. Scrap piece of paper, in the margins of books...

 

Writhing passion. Disappearing ink. Slaughtered sunlight and the clock ticks. Seconds fly by as the years wear on. Wrinkles begin to conquer your skin surrounding your eyes and mouth, claiming territory all around.

 

You have more than blurred the line between black and white. You have licked your thumb, placed it squarely on the line and rubbed so vigorously that all that remains in a grayish blob. Your thumb is now a blackened mess. Your slobber remains stained in the paper for all to see.

 

Time to fly.

So it all ends because it has to end. It's muddled and confusing and I can't stand it anymore. So I end it all. Sever ties, strings, feelings, emotions. Blank stares, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Deep down it'll always be there. A small piece of it held in place by that stray bit of tape I found stuck to the bottom of my shoe one day. But I can't anymore. It hurts too much, it plays on my mental well being. I'm not willing to go insane for it. For that. For anyone. Not worth it to loose so much of yourself for such a stupid reason. I used to be a normal person. I used to have a brain and it used to work.

And now I'm off to find out where I left it. In this moment, I'd gladly trade my heart to get it back.

 

Pupils dilate. Breathe in and breathe out. Tears fall as the sadness escapes in any form it sees fit. I am not myself lately. Haven't been for a long while yet and I'm not sure why or how that came to pass. I feel like I'm floating through life in this weird surreal existence, biting my lip and holding my breath waiting for ... something. Maybe a bump on the head to wake me up. For a quiet respite from the craziness in my head. To feel something more than the emptiness that haunts me lately.

Not really emptiness, just this feeling of nothingness. A non-feeling. I feel nothing. As if I were a balloon that someone has let all the air out. I've reached a peak as I rocketed upwards... now I drift slowly down towards the ground to be stomped upon by passing feet, absorbed in conversations about life in it's purest form. Humanity.

I am insane. I feel insane. Load me up into the van, wrap me up in a straight jacket and throw away the key. Leave me to bang my head against the padded walls in peace until I regain a healthier outlook on life. Numb. Dumb.

I am me. I am homesick. Still...

 

Hollow me out with a spoon. Magnify my insides and report your findings. Am I made of mush, chocolate, ice cream, rice, bamboo, tears, sand, rain, wind, ice or fire?

Do you really see me? Or do you look right through me? Blinding compassion is lost on the mindless twats that run amok. They open their mouths to speak and all that comes out is waste and filth. They pollute the air around them with their foul words and their attitudes. Distance is best, lest their asinine qualities begin to rub off. I clench my jaw, ball up my fist and ready myself for a swing.

Pent up frustrations with many things these days. My oasis at times is you, because you make me smile for some unknown reason. Even if it's for the briefest moment that I see you..even if I were passing by on the train as you are standing on the platform... I'm sure I'd smile. The teeniest of butterflies flutters and I feel nervous. I have no idea why. Does that make me crazy? Does it scare you?

I stand in a petrified forest, slowly becoming one of those trees. My alarm rings and I wake up to the drudgery of every day and the rain clouds that line the sky and block out the sun. My view is obstructed and blurry. Dotted, speckled. I hear him chatting, nattering as I turn my head. Does he not realize I can hear him? His head spins round, changing faces.. one, two, one, two.. it depends on who's around. Tiring of this freak show I pay for my drink and exit the bar. It's just another night.. at least now I know for sure.

 

 

Him: "I want to make love with you"
Me: "Yeah, I don't think we have the right ingredients"

Jason messaged me this "You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside"
I wrote back "Maybe you just have gas"

 

 

Someone asked me that in my class. Believe it or not, it was a ten year old girl. I've been thinking about it ever since, trying to come up with a way to accurately describe my feeling of being in Japan and living in Japan and I've come up with this:

I feel like Barney.

I feel like this big, awkward, huge, strange dinosaur. I feel out of place at times. I feel like a strange weirdo that wanders the streets and dances and sings for little kids and adults as a type of entertainment.

Let's face it, I'm far from living up to the dainty, feminine Japanese women. I'm bigger than most of them, and I am so not graceful or dainty. I feel awkward and I feel strange here. Plus I do dance and sing and entertain children and adults. I think it fits doesn't it?

 

Just because I haven't written a blog about Scott lately, and I said I would write one daily...

 

this week's quote of the day comes from his large vault of one liners that inevitably occur during one of our random conversations:

 

"Your lies insult us both."

 

Mel liked that one so much she uses it as her MSN personal message.

".....because hes a boy.. clumsy, careless, and moderately retarded"

 

Love it!

ha ha ha...

The other day I had someone ask me. "Where did your obsession with Bob Ross come from? It seems sort of random and out of the blue."

 

It was a whim. I don't really know where it came from, all I know is that I woke up one day in a weird mood and thought about Bob Ross. Things just kind of stemmed from there and I ran with it.....

 

Weekend = awesome fun times!!!

 

I'm lucky enough to have a lot of great people in my life :)

It started out with a quiet movie evening with cupcakes and a good friend. Then followed with an evening spent with some crazy Asians. I felt the need to immerse myself in my culture and see some people I hadn't seen in a while due to conflicting schedules and just the general busyness of life. Business? busyness? Deep Fryer party (where Steph thankfully made grilled veggies and baked Salmon as an alternative) and where Rick and I perfected shrimp Tempura... Drinking at his apartment with everyone, smoking a stogie and getting completely wasted because I was pretty much forced to take shots all night. I think in the end I was up to 13 or so drinks...We stumbled out of his apartment and headed to Granville street where everything pretty much gets blurry. I remember sitting in a booth at a pub (Doolin's apparently from the stamp on my arm) and then the next thing I know Steph and I are outside of Rick's apartment trying to get in with his cell phone. Bits and pieces of her puking in gardens and Ren and his lady helping her... then stealing some girl's shoe in the lobby.... then it all goes black till I somehow ended up back in the apartment wearing a construction workers uniform vest. I remember lying down on the couch at like 6am, and then Steph waking up and then..somehow I magically wake up in Sunny's apartment on the couch with my back aching and sore neck. I make it home in time to shower, eat and somewhat sober up and head out with Brad to Abbotsford to go mini-golfing. Which, as hung over as I was... he beat my ass badly!!! Headed home and then it was time for a quick nap and then ballroom dancing!!!!!

 

Such a good weekend..so many stories... I'll have to tell you later Trav :) Hope you're feeling better!