I had the most cruel dream last night

I dreamt about this guy I used to go out with in Tokyo. I call him Rumble. A 23-year old guy whom I met through a friend in a karaoke box in Shibuya. I soon learned he was married, but the second time we met, also in a karaoke box together with our mutual friends, sparks were flying in every direction. We didn’t stand a chance to the attraction that overpowered both righteousness and reason.

Being with him in Tokyo was like being on a constant high, and I don’t think I’ve ever had such a connection with anyone in my entire life. I kid you not when I say I could read his mind as if his thoughts were written down for me in an open book. His wife, or rather, the girl he’d married back home so that she could obtain a visa and come with him when he moved to Japan, was not yet in the country which made it very easy not to think about her at all. And I should be perfectly honest and say I was in a relationship with Turtle at that time as well, but in the beginning I felt very strongly that mine and Rumble’s thing was completely disconnected from how much I loved Turtle. 

When I met his wife she was incredibly rude, even though I tried my best to make her feel welcome when she’d just moved to a new, huge city. (I know it might sound false, but I still felt that the thing between me and Rumble was kind of in a separate world. And it was definitely nothing personal against her! Besides, she didn’t know about it, and we didn’t intend to keep this parallell universe of ours alive once his wife was in Japan.) As for her I couldn’t see how someone larger-than-life, like Rumble, had fallen for such a grey mouse that refused to even be friendly, and this was an impression shared by quite a few mutual friends of ours. Of course, no one told Rumble to his face.

This was nearly a year ago. And I can still feel the connection, the need to talk to Rumble, pick his brain, hear that marvelous laughter of his, but our contact is near to nill. It’s fine though, the whole thing with the two of us was probably just a result of Tokyo-fever…

In my dream last night though he was right there. Right there with his hoarse laughter and his warm, massive body and it was a fragment of the crazy time we had in Tokyo, and then he was made to choose. Me, or the mouse. And he chose the mouse over me. Again. Out of love, out of habit, out of cowardliness, I don’t know. I was confused: “But we are the best team! We are!!! So… why is he choosing her?!” And it stung like hell.

where’d it go?

Turtle was here, and somehow the week-end flew by. And all I’ve been doing is eating and sleeping. And tomorrow it’s back to work. 

macho me

Why, oh, why do I have to get all macho when I’m drinking in a crowd? I seriously have some sort of macho-complex that makes me say and do things that the reptile part of my brain probably thinks is going to impress people. Last night I got in to a discussion with Texas, a sweet, but sometimes really annoying Texan, about Bangs, a girl that I’ve worked with, that I have so much respect for, saying that she was way out of his league and that I was more likely to get her if we were to fight for her. 

It was definitely in a jokingly manner, but her best friend was sitting right there when Texas said “But she’s not really a lesbian, she’s bisexual!” and I was like “Whaddaya mean she’s not a lesbian? She’s got a girlfriend! Although I can totally see that she could be bi… Hmm.” At which point her friend probably felt the need to butt in and advise us that Bangs’ her best friend and that she was with a guy when she realized that she was in fact a lesbian… 

I wonder just how uncomfortable we made her feel talking about her friend like that? I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t for the fact that I adore Bangs. She’s the most righteous chick ever and I wish I hadn’t gotten in to a duel of the words about who would get her and whether she was actually a lesbian or not with Texas. 

Note to self: 

Stay away from macho guys when you’re drunk. They make you behave weird.

magic beans

“Maybe she’s right, that Skinny, Maybe not eating is actually the way to go…” I think to myself as I’m once again poking my belly fat. Now, I remind you all that in reality I’m against not eating. In reality. But since I’m anonymous here I might as well share even my weirdest thoughts. And if it hadn’t been for that farewell-party of one of my colleagues that I had to go to, I would have probably made it that one day without eating anything after lunch. So yesterday, since I had no plans, I thought  I was just gonna stay home and not eat. And we all know what happens then. All you can think about is food. And I can’t help but wondering why I always end up sabotaging myself when I’ve decided to either eat less, or eat less unhealthy food. Yesterday for example, I ended up eating popcorn and drinking beer. Sure, popcorn is the less evil thing to treat yourself too if you’re trying to lose weight, and the beer was a “lite beer”, but still… sabotage!

And then I stumble upon a blogg written by a cancer patient, crazysezycancer, about fasting and cleansing your body, and I thought, hey, I might do that! I should be able to handle one day of fasting, right? And maybe I could get Skinny to join me too.

Recently, I’ve seriously been considering liposuction. I assure you, I know I’m not fat, but it’s just that belly fat that doesn’t go away no matter what I do! And I think it would really help my selfimage if I could just finally get rid of it and for the first time ever have a flat stomach. But then I’m kinda scared of the risks (there’s always a risk of going bye-bye when put under anaestesia) and the recovery period. I can’t really take a week off of work because I’m having aesthetic surgery, now can I? Anyways, I stumbled upon something new called lipodissolve. Basically you inject yourself with extract of soybean which dissolves the fat in your body. No anaestesia or anything. The process apparently takes 8 weeks and you might need to do it repeatedly to get the results you need, but when you’re satisfied the results are permanent. Doesn’t it sound smashing?

and then I rememberer – I love you

I go out with a bunch of japanese friends and I realize that this sadness, these “mini-depressions” that I have, never occured when I was in Tokyo. Although, once in a while I’d get paralyzed by an overwhelming joy, just the joy of being alive and breathing in that amazing city, but that too would pass in a few minutes.

I’m not sure what it is about Tokyo that makes me thrive and feel that I’m alive in a more tangiable sense, just like I’m not sure why this city seems to kill my spirit a little each day. (Nah, that’s a lie. It’s a damn boring city, that’s why!) But I am sure that a place that makes me paralyzed with happiness every once in a while, is a place worth returning to. 

It freaking breaks my heart that it has to take so long, though. Another eight months before I can go back, at least. Eight months. I wonder if I’ll have a spirit left to revive after spending such a long time in a dull place.

buhu

Recently I’ve been thinking. Wondering if I’m different from all of you guys in the spcific way that I sometimes have an overwhelming sadness within me. It’s like an animal that goes to sleep, and then sometimes wakes up and yawns or moves aroun in it’s sleep. The most meaningless things can trigger it sometimes, and when they do I just feel… so sad. Like every part of me goes limp and I don’t want to move ever again. Do you ever get that feeling? It’s like mini-depressions. They don’t even last for a few minutes, but during those minutes I am sad about pretty much everything that’s wrong in the world. 

And then I shake it off.

Today it just hit me, for the first time, that maybe not all human beings are like this. Something I’ve just assumed so far. So I’m curious, does the world make you sad, or is it just me?

Is the world a sad and depressing place?   1) Yes, I get depressed all the time. 2) Nah, it’s just you.   View Results   Make your own poll

horray!

Lasagna, potato gratin and potato chips. That’s what Skinny had for lunch today. I suppose I don’t have to worry about her starving then. (I don’t really worry actually, I like to think she’s too smart to actually starve herself for real.) Instead I worry that she, by starving and then binging will go in to another starving period. I guess I have to remind her that starving and then eating a lot of unhealthy stuff she won’t lose an ounce. Balanced eating, girl!

Introducing: Skinny

“I’m not eating this week. I have to get rid of this” she says and grabs the back of her left thigh. I look upon her, a very thin japanese chick with perfect hair. We’ve had this conversation before. Even though she’s one of the skinniest people I know, all she sees is her thighs. 

I laugh and tell her that you actually need to eat to live. Then I take her home and make her a soup that will make her full, but not fat and try to explain what you should think about if you’re trying to lose weight. I’m beyond trying to tell her that she’d look really scary if she lost more weight, instead I just giver her tips about what she can eat. But everytime we’re on this subject I die a little. I know I can never tell her what to do or judge her, so I just laugh and hope I’m not being too much of an enabler.

look, a fuck-me bear!

Is it wrong to want to eat one of your work associates up? I mean, what if they have dimples and fuck-me lips  (it’s the kind of strange lips that Brad Pitt has) and are huge, assumably muscular, but look like a fuck-me teddybear? Well, is it?

which one should i play?

Earlier this evening, as I got back to my “other home”, this time bringing my guitarr back with me from my mothers place, I was faced with a difficult choice. Should I play the guitar and finish the song I’ve been writing for the past couple of days or should I surf the net for porn and play with myself? 

Usually when I’m in porn-surfing mode I get completely lost out in the World Wide Web and will be gawking at porn for hours (or at least one hour) while touching myself, and I will eventually have an involuntary orgasm (cause I usually want to keep going for ever), leaving me a bit unsatisfied and unable to fall asleep. (Unless I do it mid-day. Then will immediately fall asleep, and waste the good part of the day in bed.)

Well, dear readers, as it turns out I didn’t have to choose. Apparently I can play the guitar instead of sleeping, which works out quite well, now that I’m all satisfied and unable to sleep. And the song is turning out better than I expected (I expected crap), so go ahead and feel free to congratulate me on an overwhelmingly productive evening.