How to go home

I feel like I am going insane right now abouts.  I was talking with a new acquaintance today, and I came to saying that I think I am afraid of going back home to the US, after I’ve gone through so much development and transformation as I have this past year (with  all the depression and life experiences and all here).

I really think that I am afraid of being myself as I know myself to be now.  Or rather, … well… I’m afraid of being myself and being rejected, unwanted.  However, I think I already deal with that in the first place, and I have for a good chunk of my life.  So, that’s nothing new, then.  Therefore, I can keep that same concern as always, and just be myself anyway.  This way, I am fulfilled in who and how I am, and the people who do love me get to love me for who I truly am.
Sounds good to me.  Let’s do this, banana.
Post-a-day 2017

What’s my type??

People always seem to ask me my type.  Possibly, this is more of a recent thing, as it is one of the top questions Japanese high school students ask, and I don’t really remember having considered the question’s answer more than once or twice before this past year.  Nonetheless, it has been on my mind for quite some time now.

The deal is that I have never really known a type for my own interests.  I find attractive to be attractive.  Period.  However, I have been recently distinguishing even further the difference between being attracted to someone and that of wanting to be with someone.  On this distinguishing inquiry, I have at last found one definite common factor between men when I instantly find attractive, and with whom I always want to develop a relationship of some sort (even just a friendship), and often actively pursue.  That factor?  Being tall.  It’s not that I don’t find men I average height to be attractive – I definitely do find them quite attractive on a regular basis.  However, I tend to have a quite strong desire at least to be around handsome men who are also tall.  I have found shorts men to be handsomer than taller men, and yet the taller attractive guy always holds my attention much better.
Just something I discovered/noticed this weekend.
Post-a-day 2017

Our Stories

“Share your story here…”. Share your story here.  Share your story here?  What is my story?

Tonight, my story is that I am like Rapunzel, locked on my own in a tower, merely dreaming of what life could be if only I weren’t stuck in this tower.  I want to cuddle up and cry with my despair and loneliness.  The earth just shook long and low beneath me, deepening my unease for a handful of seconds.  I don’t want to turn off the light – there seems to be a certain power in its being illuminated (and I do not mean the electricity), a power to keep me safe and okay and able to handle things.

Tonight, my story is that I am lonely and alone, and, though I am so close to being in a place I could and do call home, I feel as though I am in the point A to point B race where you constantly only go half the distance, thereby making progress toward the desired destination, but never actually arriving there.

Also, that just reminded me of how much I love Patrick Swayze.  I wish I could have been in the film “Dirty Dancing”.

Anyway… I want to cry tonight, and to let it all go, leaving me to wake up refreshed and excited and capable in the morning.
Post-a-day 2017

You’ve got mail

During the credits of the film “You’ve Got Mail”, there’s a song that comes on where a guy is singing about how he is going to sit right down and write himself a love letter, ‘and pretend it’s from you.’  I’ve been thinking about it since then, and I’m going to do just that for myself.  I don’t know who you are, exactly, but I believe you are out there somewhere, and, if we were together – meaning a pair, duo – now, you might send me this email/letter.

-—————————–

Hey, hon.

Just sending you a quick message.

First off, I love you.
Secondly, I miss you (Duh, of course I do.).  And, though we are almost literally worlds apart, I am okay, because you love me and care about me and are with me.
Thirdly, I love you.  Just so we’re clear.  😉  You have developed and changed so much these past few months, and I can hardly wait to get to know and to love all the new parts there are to you.  (I’m being somewhat sappy, I know, but I get to do that every so often, right? Right.)

(Now to the body paragraph(s).)

I hope you had a great day today.  We’re just getting started over here, and it’s a beautiful day.  How is your breathing?  Short, hot, and firey today, I presume, since it was a Monday.  Hopefully, you’ve stretched them out to long, slow, and deep by bedtime – I want you resting well while you are able to sleep, you know?  You’ve got to take care of yourself… keep your balance, now that you’re back standing again.

By the way, I think five minutes a day dedicated to your abdomen would get you the comfort you’re wanting for your beach-going.  You could do two and a half minutes just before sleeping, and another two and a half just after you wake up in the mornings.  That would give you a full five, and a significant improvement for that slightly-tubbier-than-usual belly of yours.  (We’ll be a rockin’ bods pair when you’re back here and we head beachside.)

Loving you with the sun and moon, babe,

~~~~

Sofa Buddies

What is it about sofas that makes them such a comfort?  I mean this question in a specific sense, though I am not actually looking for any specific answer.  Many a time, growing up, I found myself frightened in my bedroom, and so went down/out to the sofa in the living room to attempt to fall back asleep (usually passing out somewhat promptly each time).  Even nowadays, there is still something so comforting about the sofa, I regularly have a sort of desire to snuggle down and fall asleep on it, instead of getting up and going into my bedroom to fall asleep.

Perhaps is it the residual psychological and emotional link between the sofa and getting to watch cartoons and movies, and being snuggled by the dogs or my siblings or parent, and late-night movies when we didn’t have to get up early the next day, and enjoying summer vacation.  Perhaps it is the foot rubs my dad and I would exchange as we watched tv together in the evenings.  Perhaps it is because we always seemed to have amazing blankets to use on the couch.  Perhaps it is none of the aforementioned, and perhaps it is all of it, and perhaps even more still.  I don’t know what it is that makes sofas such a comforting, cozy, happy place for me.  But there is something about them, I just love hanging on the sofa, which is why I am now writing about it, as I lounge on my own sofa bed and notice my feelings of not wanting to get up and go get in my own real bed to go to sleep (although I am actually quite tired).  🙂
Post-a-day 2017

FaceTime

Today (March 5th) is my brother’s birthday.  He lives in Texas.  My dad called me tonight, as a sort of reminder about my brother’s birthday.  This is one thing I love about my dad’s side of the family – we all remind the family whenever it is someone’s birthday.  There are funny bits to this, of course, because it often means that whoever’s birthday it is gets a load of messages and phone calls all at the same time, followed by the thought of, ‘Hmm… I wonder what message just went out to everyone.’  For example, when it is my sister’s husband’s birthday, my sister sends a group text to the family, telling us that it is his birthday.  Within about five minutes, we have all either called or sent a birthday message to him.  There’s no way we all just happen to think of his birthday at the same time, so our ‘cover’ is just plain nonexistent – we were clearly reminded of the birthday.  But, the point is that we all care enough to wish the family member well on his/her birthday.  My dad, I think, is the one who started this sort of tradition we have.

Another aspect of the birthday tradition that my dad created is the song “Birthday” by the Beatles.  Every year, without fail, he finds some way to play the song for us on each of our birthdays.  One year, my eldest sister had an early-morning flight, and so expected to miss the song, since it was always played at home.  However, my dad surprised her with playing the song in the car on the way to the airport (at 6am).  When I was abroad, he would Skype or telephone me, making sure to play the song at the start of the call.

Today, as he was talking to me to remind me about my brother’s birthday, he checked the sound of the song with me, to make sure I could hear it well enough.  He said that he was planning to call my brother right after he got off the phone with me, and I saw that FaceTime had an option to add a call, so we went ahead and called my brother on FaceTime (I did, anyway), by clicking the “add call” button.  However, it ended up not working the way an “add call” button suggests it might work, so I improvised.

Right now, I’m sitting with my laptop on my lap, my phone on the lap of my laptop.  On my phone, I am FaceTime Video-ing with my brother.  On my laptop, I am FaceTime Audio-ing with my dad.  It is the middle of the night for me and the middle of the morning for my brother and dad.  The three of us are talking as though we’re all just hanging out together.  Right now, of course, the two of them are having a bit of their own chatting time, and I am typing.  This points to what is possibly my favorite part of this: I, in Japan, am joining two people on a phone call, who are barely an hour or two apart from one another in Texas.  I’m not even talking right now, but the whole reason they are able to talk to one another is because of me, over here in Japan.  So, it’s kind of like their conversation is taking the long way around… the Really long way.

Or something like that, anyway.  😛

 

Post-a-day 2017