The Devil Moment II

Like last year, I was the "devil" director at this year's Halloween party for kids.

Too much makeup goes a long way on the occasion, no matter how unprofessionally slutty I may look.

Until next time,

Sak

Lost in Translation

I woke up at 7 in the morning, and was in a total dismay to find the unfamiliar in my room...

...and I come to my senses and remind myself that It's NOT my room. It's the hotel room I've been staying since the night before.

I get up and open the curtains to see on my right...

...buildings. And on my left...


...more buildings.

Good morning, Tokyo!

Anyway, this was last Monday. Two nights in the capital city got me really lonely. Not the kind of loneliness where I miss someone and need a hug, but the kind where things are happening before I can think, you know? The kind where mind comes after matter. Lonely in the sense that you don't know what the heck you want because you can't hear yourself think very clearly.

Well, being lost aside, I do love the over-sized robe thingy that Japanese hotels usually have in each room, though. Very cozy to sleep in. And the cotton slippers.



Until next time,

Sak

A Fan Spinning. An Ice Cube Melting.

Who would have thought a grown woman in her late 20s would jam her pinkie into a fan? And, of course, I'm talking about a fan that's on. Not me, and especially so since I constantly tell the kids not to go too close to the activated fan (I work in an environment with very small children coming and going). But jam my pinkie into a fan, I did. Right in front of the kids, too.

I am not going to dwell on how it happened, but I actually hurt myself pretty good. I had to teach a class right after it, so I pretended nothing was wrong for the next 50 minutes despite the numbness that I did feel at first was slowly turning into a fireball that had its own beating heart. When I actually took a good look at it afterward, the head of it had 4 good gushes across it, and the blood that stained in and out of the cuts were more purple than scarlet. I started going a little bananas at the thought of "what if I had stuck it just a little further...?" and had shivers down my spine. I have a tendency to make jokes when I should be rightfully scared shitless (I think it's a bit like being high on the seriousness of the situation, does it ever happen to you?), and I was making a whole lotta jokes by then.

Then, A came to me, saying "Lemme see your finger." I said, "I'm fine," as if I was actually asked how I was. It wasn't a question. Not responding to what I said, he went on. "You should put some ice on it. Or, do you have a first aid kit here?" "No, I'm good. Don't worry." (<- me being stubborn here). A is working at our office only for three days, and today was his first day. He is sent from the head quarter to help out a situation we have. But anyway, he didn't know where things were around the office, and, seeing how I wasn't cooperating with his attempt to help me by finding the items in question, asked another coworker where they were, and came back in a minute: didn't say anything, just took my pinkie and took a look at it, put a cube of ice on until the entire thing is melted. As he did so, he gave me an instruction on what to do tonight for the cuts when I get home. Think I was actually listening to what he was saying at this point? I was rather melting with the ice.

He genuinely just wanted to help me. Not because I am a woman. Not because I am going crazy and speaking in my high-pitched fast-speed voice that I was. He helped me just because I had jammed a bloody pinkie into a spinning fan and now it's bleeding and swollen and purple.

You know, I had forgotten what it's like to let a man take care of me... wow, that feels so sad typing. Yet, seriously, when did I become so protective of myself from feeling a little needy of a kind and even manly gesture? When did I start reading too much into his intention, and doubt that it's genuine? When did I let having a pinkie with 4 gushes and sheds of blood on it become not worthy of a kind attention from a man, especially when I'm actually in a little pain? When did I make it even an issue? When did I start drawing the line so thick? I mean, what would it take, when a pinkie is actually chopped off all the way? Will I then actually admit that I could use some help? What a sad, sad person I had become?


I might have come a longer way than I thought after I took a turn on Guardyourself Lane off of Brokenheart Street. A little further this way, and I might have stepped without realization into Cynicism City. And, you know what, I have a feeling that I can still bail myself out from the direction I had taken. It's not too late. Not yet. I'm going to turn back while turning is good.

And, might I mention, my pinkie feels a lot better now.

Until next time,

Sak

p.s. Very special thanks to A who doesn't take shit from a woman in pain.