favorite typo of the day:

*scene: very serious, a group of men on the verge of violence staring at each other, hands on weapons, nerves ringing with tension, etc.

*** finally faced the man, undressing him quietly but firmly.

(it took me far too long to notice that it doesn’t actually say “addressing”, if I’m being honest…)

… this is probably how weird fanfiction gets born..

I do hate this very common occurrence of an almost empty cafe filling to its capacity 30 minutes after I sat down hoping to write in piece and quiet.

It’s not like I even come right after the opening hours or right before lunch hours when it could be logically explained and expected.

Specifically looking for a quiet spot in a quiet book cafe just to see it get overcrowded in less than an hour after you sat down is…just sad, frustrating, and feels like an insult when you’re in an especially self-centered mood.

upd. It’s also the same with the toilet. Say you sit with a clear view of the cafe toilet (1 person at a time kind of deal) for an hour and can see that it’s not crowded and no one is waiting in front of it, in fact it’s rarely occupied. But the minute you decided to go, not only someone tries the door less that 30 sec after you lock it behind yourself (before you even manage to take your pants off), you emerge to see a 3-people line waiting for you with offended expressions.

It makes me feel stalked by a crowd of humanity.

And reminds me of that feeling when I was going around taking pictures in parks and more often than not some old man would start following around and stop to take pictures at the exact same spot at exact same angle I did a moment ago. I’m not even kidding.

Yes, I did mention an especially self-centered mood. But it’s hard to blame my moods when these occurrences keep piling up.

My specific brand of first-world problem: having about 90 TBR books in front of me and a rainy day off perfect for just curling up and reading all day, and wasting the whole morning absolutely unable to choose what I want to read and which book would fit into the mood of this day.

I, on the other hand, always hovered in the space between self-consciousness and sterile detachment; my gracefulness was akin to that of an ostrich. When my head wasn’t in the sand, people were looking at me and probably thinking what a strange bird!

Neanderthal Seeks Human by Penny Reid

my therapist called it an already natural propensity to observe life rather than live it.

Neanderthal Seeks Human by Penny Reid

Since I spent much of my childhood being left behind and ignored, one might think that, as an adult, moments of perceived abandonment would feel old hat. The truth is, as an adult, I’m always waiting to be left behind. I’m always ready to be discarded and, therefore, I spend significant amount of time preparing for this eventuality.

Neanderthal Seeks Human by Penny Reid

A few months ago I completely stopped buying coffee at Starbucks.

Not out of some moral showing-off idea, but one day I just realized I really didn’t like the taste of the lattes I bought anymore. I would probably try Coffee Cream Latte once more if I could ever guess when they are actually going to have it (apparently you can only order it when their ‘special’ for the period is sold out), and I would definitely want to try the Eggnog Latte I used to drink during autumn-winter season in UK (and have seen it only in UK) all the time, but otherwise setting my foot in Starbucks really doesn’t seem appealing anymore… I would like to know if something changed in me or something changed in the products they use… because suddenly their coffee-based products have a taste I can’t stand and I can’t really pinpoint it.

The only real problem this poses is that I’m left with only one other option as to where get my coffee fix in the morning, where they don’t really have more than 2 options on the menu, and I really can’t stand getting/doing the same thing every morning…

Not going to work on a weekday and staying in a place where there are only the standard TV channels and no option to stick my HDD into the TV got me re-acquainted with such pearls of morning TV as 30-min discussion of bows on toiler paper, even longer discussion of a somewhat-famous couple enjoying sakura viewing in a park (seriously, what the fluff goes through people’s heads when they think it’s necessary to take pictures of two people sitting on grass in a park and looking at trees and then discuss every angle of those pictures at length on national tv?), and a very detailed discussion of the Imperial couple’s outfits as they pay last homage in shrines around the country before abdication. (Still better than what I caught on CNN and BBC before changing the channel though.)

In short, it’s days like this when I really begin to despise that part of my broken mind that makes me unable to function without having some kind of TV noise in the background…because no matter how much I try to concentrate on something else, time after time I catch glimpses of something that just sends the ‘damn, I really can’t understand or feel any kind of affinity with this humanity’ thought shooting through my mind.

My first reaction to having a breakdown in public is to pretend that I’m not having a breakdown and buy a hamburger take-out. Though usually cheeseburger. With pickles if I can help it.

Though since I can’t really eat lately, this time the hamburger is spending the night in the fridge. Crisscut fries and all.

Thinking about how many meals it will take me to eat it and will it survive long enough to be still edible when I can get to it is better than thinking about the fact that I have no support system at all and my breakdowns are getting worse.

A year ago, I looked at my 10-15 book TBR pile and thought it was a lot.

(a year ago my head was in a place where I couldn’t really read anything but fluffy fanfiction on 2-3 specific fandoms by thousands)

As of this moment my TBR pile has reached at least 84 (I run out of space on the top of my shelf where I was storing them 20 books ago) … with more expected in the mail.

I need to cancel my book boxes…because as of now, the book selections they send end up all the way on the bottom of the list of things I want to read at the moment, and there’s really no sense in ordering them if this is the case.

I think you need a certain amount of courage to drink something named “Yellow Snow”…

(I bought it because you also need a certain amount of courage to name your drink so. I couldn’t help it.

…it’s actually not bad.

…but made me feel like I was being pranked anyway.)

Ever been so deep in your head you stepped into a huge puddle of vomit on the floor and stood around there for a while?

In my defense, it was in the middle of convenience store in Japan where you’re not supposed to expect mess. (This is going to sound bad, but figures it had to happen in the immigration office.)

But I did stand around in it for a bit while choosing drinks and only noticed because my feet started to slip around.

I have a feeling this day will go into the ‘those embarrassing things I did I wish I could forget but remember better than my name’ memory bank.

At least I didn’t fall in it.

I don’t need my therapist to tell me (I can tell it her myself) that I’ve been reading so many silly, and not so silly, fantasy romance-ish books, which I would previously consider kind of uncharacteristic, because I use them to fight my deepening depression and anxiety on the very chemical level.

It also would be why I get so uncontrollably angry and disappointed when a book that I desperately needed to pull me up, has so much angst (because apparently too many people believe angst is fashionable, cool, and deep) it actually managed to bring me down.

Which is not really fair to the books I read, because having angst doesn’t make books bad objectively, but right now in my eyes, it kind of does.

Approximately 24 hours of my life:

My breasts hurt for a week before I’m about to go on a vacation for a few days, because my PMS is trying to wait exactly for the day I’m planning to be walking around in the nature for most of the day. It reaches the point where it hurts so much I actually spend a whole night dreaming about walking around with bust three times heavier and bigger than it is, which is not as fun as it sounds because it’s also full of pain.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’, and pack half of my small suitcase with sanitary products.

I want to buy some coffee and lunch before getting on the shinkansen, to start my vacation by reading one of my favorite books while seeping on some delicious coffee and listening to writing music.

But the morning crowd pushes me into the station entrance that has no coffee shops, and to reach the only Starbucks (which wouldn’t be my choice for coffee anyway, but it’s the only choice I have) on the station I need to go down to the platform, and then go back up on the other side. I walk the whole length of the platform, trying to find upwards escalator or elevator. No such luck.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’, and drag my suitcase up the the stairs. It’s not too heavy, but my wrist is injured and I have to spend next 20 minutes to try to get it to turn again without feeling like I’m about to throw up every time I move it in a wrong way.

As I’ve finally reached the city, left my suitcase with the hotel staff, and walk the quiet streets that hardly change, I think I should be finally free for next 48 hours.

After a minor incident where I had to pit my bladder against two elderly ladies who were buying great many things and couldn’t let me get to the cashier in my favorite paper shop (it might have been my fault for forgetting to find a toilet in the hotel lobby and holding it in for hours), I finally reach my favorite cafe with soups and banana-hojicha smoothies. Just as I’m trying to get my nerve knots to uncoil, I get a message from work that something has happened, and the co-worker who was supposed to cover in my absence is not there. It’s not voiced out loud, but I’m sure they’d want me to re-schedule my vacation if I was still in Tokyo.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’ and try to pretend like this piece of news is not going to spoil my mood. Or that I won’t start hating myself for feeling someone else’s misfortune is part of a conspiracy against me.

I make it back to the hotel. Try to not feel my disappointment prematurely when they tell me my room is on the 4th floor, because I’ve been thinking about looking out over the city during the sunset the whole time on my walk back. When I check my room my hear sinks. My window faces a solid wall 50 cm away.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’, and think that’s what you get for booking an untried new hotel last minute instead of my favorite place which was unfortunately fully booked. Now, at least, it makes sense why this was so cheap. I can’t bring myself to go ask for a new room.

After getting settled a little, and frowning at the hand towel that looks and smells clean, but feels strangely sticky after I wipe my hands (like they didn’t wash the detergent out completely), I try to unpack. I enter my code in the lock on my suitcase, and it doesn’t open. I look it over, making sure it’s mine, then try every combination I’ve been known to have on this kind of lock. There’re not many of those. I look in my bag in case I still have the ’emergency’ key, which I don’t. I don’t know if it just broke or someone tried unlocking it and got it stuck.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’, and settle down trying every combination possible on the dial for the next hour. When that doesn’t work, I take the ice tongs from the ice bucket and wrench the pull tubs out from the sliders and then from the lock. I get my suitcase open, but I doubt I’ll be able to use the lock ever again. I’m resourceful, because asking strangers for help is always the very last resort. I also kind of didn’t want people thinking I was asking them to open someone else’s suitcase.

I’ve been dreaming about sleeping while breathing in the clear air of this town for more than a year. Not only am I robbed of that, because I can’t open the window in this room, I can hardly sleep all night because the bathroom keeps making these noises like it’s a space ship. Something thuds very loudly at least once every hour, almost making me jump, something seethes, something gurgles, and I wake up every time. I wake up for good at 4 am.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’, and think that at least hardly getting any sleep is nothing new to me these days and I won’t get as hysterical as I would be previously when deprived from my 7-9 hours of sleep on vacation.

I bought my breakfast in a convenience store the day before. I have a salad I need to mix and a soup, and in the morning I realize there were no utensils in the bag. Which you have to be really really unlucky to have happen to you in Japan. They can forget to ask you if you need them and put some inside anyway, but to just forget to put anything… I can’t say this ever happened to me before.

I sigh, say ‘Okay’ and settle to have only a yogurt drink and a piece of cake I have to eat with my hands for breakfast.

I don’t want to list any more.

Believe it or not, this kind of ‘pattern’ has been my life for months. Many of them. Sometimes worse, sometimes better. It’s not really bad enough to feel like being kicked constantly, but it’s that sort of minor annoyance like trying to walk and have something constantly grab at your hair and clothing and stagger you back. Or constantly hear universe say ‘haha, f*ck you!’ in your year. Or trying to take a deep breath and smile just to have your face slapped for your efforts, every time.

I’m just so…fluffing tired.