As if I didn’t have enough expensive audio devices already. At least I decided not to buy Solaris because they seemed a bit too big for my comfort to buy without testing them out first. And Polaris seemed like a better fit for my emotional needs than Andromeda. Fun fact is that out of the pretty big selection of earpieces they come with, I can only comfortably use the very tiniest ones. I don’t know how I feel about that. Did I always have such tiny ears or are they closing up on their own gradually because there’s too much bullshit to deal with in the world. Great sound and noise cancelling. (Without relying on weird technologies for noise cancelling.) Feels like having a concert hall suddenly appear in your brain and take up a lot of space. Which is a really good thing.
I’m also writing about earphones because there are too many emotional things I wish I could write about but can’t really.
Somewhere inside, even if I pretend like I don’t, I still believe all the negative things people told me about me, all the hurtful things they said about me, simply because no one ever told me anything else.
Even if logically I can understand that they mostly said those things not because of who I am, but because of who they are, there is just nothing to counter-balance it with. No one ever showed me different. It’s all I know.
You can’t counter all the negative things people do to you all by yourself. It’s like physics. If the force applied from outside is only ever applied in one direction, how can you ever gather enough energy on inside to move in the opposite direction?
Japanese society may be extremely rigid and unforgiving in many ways.
But it’s also kind of extremely understanding and welcoming to all kinds of kinks, weirdness, and otaku-ness. Especially when it comes to making money from all the said kinks and otaku-ness. Which means it’s pretty easy for people who are into some specific things (sometimes harmlessly weird, sometimes outright wrong…from having full arena concerts for holographic anime characters instead of real singers and to all kinds of fetish sex places, including common pubs where you can pay to touch women’s breasts all you like) to find a niche and fellow-minded people to realize their wishes and live true to their weirdness.
It’s a land of contrasts, and I think what makes it special is that you can find your own niche of extreme here, your own safe place, be it the clean places where everyone follows social rules or the underground places where everyone goes to enjoy breaking them very explicitly, and you can choose the world you’d rather live in here.
I, admittedly, land on the rather rigid side, and the weird places and things people do I sometimes hear about still blow my mind from time to time.
I’ve been seeing a lot of trippy dreams lately. And they often feel much longer than I actually get to sleep. It’s a lot of flying, killing, hiding, disturbingly vivid and just disturbing details (there was this abandoned half-constructed bridge I was flying over this night, and it was full of feathers, and cages, and bird poop, and rabid chickens and turkeys both alive and dead, because apparently people abandoned crates with birds and animals on this bridge for some reason? And I remember so much detail about those stacked dirty cages and giant rabid brown chickens…), rooms, people I don’t know at all, but I do there, …and it’s both half-lucid, and mostly false-lucid, in the way that the me in the dream who thinks she is lucid thinks and remembers things that are also not real, and then I have a lot of trouble of sorting through things and figuring out which ones were real when I wake up. Because apparently I now dream in layers, when I dream about another myself who is dreaming. There are also layers of stories, when I kind of witness someone else’s story while dreaming my own, and in my dream I think ‘oh, I know this story, it’s from that book/movie/thing I read’…but it’s actually not, because I dreamt that part too.
Getting half-lucid dreams feels kind of like playing chess against someone else. They throw all the bad things at me, trying to corner me, but I get to decide that when an army of ‘evil super heroes’ (or mutants, I don’t know, it was trippy) attacks me and my own, overpowering everyone one by one, I get to climb where I want to climb, grow wings, and turn invisible in the air; and even though they still try to follow me when I’m invisible, because they are freaky supernaturals too, I get to decide that I will escape no matter what. I also get to decide that all my people are alive and I can know it for sure in my heart. My opponent throws more difficulties and monsters with super powers my way, but I get to be an invisible avenging angel with black wings and a sniper rifle. I sometimes get distracted by the disturbingly real post-apocalyptic world we happen to be in (my real dream worlds just make me want to stop and take in every detail) while I fly over it, and the weird side stories I witness (there was a boy and a horse locked on a very high floor of a very big abandoned factory building, drug dealers, and cold pizza I stole), but in general it feels like I get to dictate my side of the story, while someone else dictates the setting and the side I have to fight against. Which is strange, because in the end, it’s all in my head. Even though I have no idea where most of it comes from.
Ordered a very overpriced late lunch on Uber Eats and realised I should have chosen McDonald’s. They have a Hawaiian phase there now, with very good garlic shrimp burgers, pancakes with delicious caramel&macademian nuts butter, and vrry nice spicy new sauce for the nugs. I’m not a fan of McDonald’s and can stay away for months and not think of it once, but these spacial limited-time menus they get there from time to time are sometimes just pure genius.
The stuff I see on Ubet Eats sure looks pretty, buth both times that I tried it, the food itself felt worse than what I can usually get from my usual food delivery places, and definely didn’t match its pretty high price.
I don’t like summer. The heat and humidity drive me to panic attacks, and make me want to stay inside for months. If I lived somewhere cold when summers were short and summer nights were cool, I’m sure it would be different.
But there is one thing about the Japanese summer that has gotten under my skin. It’s the cicadas’ songs. I don’t like summer, but when I lie in bed and listen to the familiar melodies of the Japanese cicadas outside that sing of summer heat, the world feels right.
I love to buy the largest, meatiest tomatoes I can find in the store (yellow ones are my favorite, but pink ones are great too), and then messily eat them whole, while sprinkling some salt, without cutting them into pieces.
People may have a lot of things. You may even look at them and think, ‘Oh, they have so many things I don’t. They have so many things I wish I had. I would be so much happier if I had the things they have.’ And by ‘things’, I mean all things. Like family, friends, money, careers, houses and homes, hobbies, plans, places to be and people to talk to. All the things. But the problem is that no matter how many things people have, it doesn’t mean that they have the one thing they need to keep living.
I’m usually too afraid to waste it to use it often, but:
The ultimate medicinal combination for a Sunday when you were hurting and feeling like shit: