There WAS a Suicide Note

Although I try not to be “quirky,” I cannot help but not to be normal. Besides the fact that I am gay, disabled, and biracial, I often amaze others by my lack of perception of cold when they are densely covered in layers of garments whilst I stroll by in a T-shirt.  Or my astonishing ability to multitask, enabling me to hold a conversation, watch a TV, and cook.

Likewise, my journal is not so average. Here and there, you can find a sentence that reads “although I sound very negative in this journal entry, it is because I process my anger/sadness by writing it, and when I had a great day, I do not feel the need to write, or came back home late.” It is an odd thing to write; reminding myself of my stress-coping mechanism. This is mostly to remind myself that not everyday of my life is depressing, when I happen to re-read my entry (which almost never happens). It might be hard to imagine, but because I mostly write to rid myself of trepidation, unpalatable anger, and despair within life by vomiting my emotions onto the word document, my journal entry resembles that of a person who seems to have an unjustly difficult life…. But that is not the case… And I write that just in case. Also, although I don’t think my existence will ever be as significant as that of Virginia Wolf (not anytime soon, at least… Hopefully in near future), when I see published books of someone’s diary (like V. Wolf), I feel the need to write the truth just in case someone cracks the password and read my entries. They mostly detail frivolous matters, but when the diary of some uni student that killed himself ends up being a bestseller, my paranoia of having my journal read by some complete stranger becomes unabated. If I die from a mystery manner that is hard to determine whether it was a suicide of an accident, people who read my diary might jump into conclusion that I have killed myself. Well, let me set the record straight. If I die in a mysterious manner, IT WAS A BLOODY MURDER! CATCH THE KILLER AND SEND HIM/HER IN THE WORST JAIL IN YOUR COUNTRY. Meanwhile, here are excerpts from my ever so dreadful diary (that I quickly skimmed through for the purpose of writing this entry) Although my closest ones know that I am a really depressive person, hope you enjoy my undiluted depressive narrative:

April 2nd, Sunday

Sunday came and went, just like a bad date.

July 19th, Saturday

Then I saw the beach, and how beautiful it looked as the sun was setting, and people were dancing freely to the rhythm of nostalgic dance-remix. It was worth going there to wash my sorrow away into it.

July 22, Tuesday

I love some of the Spanish phrases that exist out there. For example, “I am tired” is “estoy cansado.” And “I’m exhausted” is “estoy agotado.” I truly think that “esoty agotado” really convey the nature of exhaustion. The feeling you get where your whole entire body is begging to be laid down, yet in order to live a fulfilling life, you need to stay awake and keep proceeding in the daily activities in the day.

July 29th, Sunday

Great, I hate Mac for sure now. Not only is the usage of the lower section of screen still a mystery (largely my fault for thinking that ordinary average PC control should not require any need to read the instruction booklet), I cannot open my diary! Because the one that I have been using for a month is “in a wrong format.” Fucking bull.

I hate Sundays. First of all, do other people suffer from not having any prior engagements? I often find myself stuff to do on Fridays and Saturdays. But Sundays, I’ve got no plans whatsoever and have to spend it all by myself. Quality alone time… Because I never get that during the week.

August 20, Monday

The speed in which a day passes by seems to be so much faster then I would like it to be. There are so many things that I would like to accomplish (i.e., cleaning my room, doing some research, and reading) yet it seems like I am only able to do about 30% or so.

August 23rd

The good thing is the co-worker though. I got on really well with Nicola. Who reminds me of Fred! No, she really does. The way she speaks, her mannerism that betrays the timid and well-organized behavioral pattern! They are all the same as those of Fred from Angel. Although it was obvious from the beginning that she was a geek, we discovered that she is a proper geek! Tomoko, my co-worker (who dresses very nicely by the way), said that she could picture her wearing periodic clothes (i.e., 17th century). Then she admitted that she dresses in a gothic Lolita fashion. Lol

August 31st, Friday

The phrase TGIF is no longer applicable for I will be working during the weekends and evenings….

September 5th, Wednesday

I am playing with the notion of joining the sexaholic anonymous so I can go to their meetings and here their torrid sex stories. How can you be addicted to sex? And where do they get it?

November 4th, Sunday

Heck, because this entry is negative, I will continue with the theme. I hate the apartment that I live in. It is fucking crap. The walls are so thin that you get to hear your neighbor sneezing. I can’t believe some people thought it was okay to build such a crap apartment in middle of Tokyo! Why are housing in Tokyo so crap?

November 8th, Thursday

Time is a funny thing, really. When you are in a horrible situation (such as going to a fucking boring party), it feels fucking awful, but when it is done, you tend to forget how unbearable your life was a moment ago.

Nov 26th, Monday

He (Will) went on about how his lifestyle keeps him out of trouble. As in if he stayed in one country, he would go crazy, for he wouldn’t be able to take it. Makes me wonder why he doesn’t go back to Canada. He also stated that he doesn’t like Thai people that much because it is a third world country, and people aren’t that smart. They can only think of what is in front of them… And Japan is like that… Okay, it is only people like us that can afford to think about other things for we aren’t constantly worried about how to find food. I can afford to appreciate about art, because I have enough food. I think it was completely pathetic of him to be that judgmental. He also stated that Japanese people aren’t that smart either because if you ask questions like “why did you draw such painting” to an artist, they get shocked for asking such a question. Honestly, why does he stay? I guess I get tired from dealing with people from reasons like this. Even when you disagree with them completely, you can’t really say “that’s BS!” out loud. Brrr… Dumb people annoy me.

Nov. 27th, Wednesday

I really wish I could sink myself in an ocean somewhere. As for work, the newbies are annoying me.

The new guy I completely do not remember the name, who is fucking taciturn, is also a bit dim. He was like “I can’t afford to go eat lunch everyday,” but that is what he is doing… And when he missed the last train, apparently he stayed in a hotel! As opposed to manga kissa or taking a cab home. BS Then there is Takumi. He fucking annoys me. Naomi was saying that she realized that he was a freak after speaking to him for 3 min. He asks way too much questions. He is the question-asking machine.

I’ve Ordered Something Really Embarassing

http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/132530.php

I am so glad that the scientists have proven that sugar can be highly addictive….

I have a massive sweet tooth, that I am finding it difficult to control, esp. when I am stressed or have loads of work to do.  Tangerines are good substitutes, but they just won’t do….

At work today, I was thinking of that ice cream with so many good chunks of fattening goodies, like chocolate fudge and pecan nuts. Mmmm…. Just thinking of those high sugar goodness lapping on my tongue… You know which ice cream I’m talking about…  That one where the sales clerk sings while preparing, and the name of the store sounds like “commonwealth,” but it quite isn’t.

Because there is no way in the world an ice cream chain, as wacky as it is, would name themselves “commonwealth,” I had to ask my colleagues.  They’ve told me that “you mean Cold Stones Cream?  The ones where they sing?”

“Yes, that is the one!  But they never sang to me though….”

“Really?  I thought they always did.”

Me too.  Imagine my disappointment (?) when the clerk didn’t sing while squishing the nut into the vanilla ice cream on the cold pan….

So after work, I HAD to get my mouth into those super minty chocolatey ice cream sprinkled with more fat.  So I bicycled (I cycle to work) all the way to the department store in Shinjuku.  On the top floor, there was the place, with a little queue.  This ultra-chirpy chick with a necklace made from different cup sizes came waltzing in to hand me the menu and get my order.

For those that have never been to Cold Stone Creamery, because they are not addicted to sugar as I am, they offer different cup sizes with weird names like, “Like It!”  “Love It!” and “Gotta Have It!”  Jesus, they do understand their clientele, don’t they?

So I chose Gotta Have IT!  Cuz my craving was too much.

And boy, this place is a one warped out place.

Basically, the ice creams are prepared by scooping the ice cream and mashing it up with different ingredients, such as fruits, nuts, and fudge, on top of the cold pan that looks like hot pan, making it look as if they are making some serious meal… like teppan yaki.

So this chick was making this menu, and she’s like “now, we’re gonna add the strawberry… Then nuts,” and her co-worker walked past by her, peering at what she was making, and went “oh my god, that is so cute.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“That is going to be soooo delicious!”

Erk….

The girl who served me seemed to have a synthetic smile, one end of her mouth stretched apart from one another to maximum….  Constantly smiling makes you look synthetic…

And she did the same with me and explained what the ingredients were, and she had a little chit chat… Then she asked “because you’ve ordered I’ve gotta have it, we can give you a song as a present.  Would you like it?”

I guess i COULD have said no, but I said “why not?”

I’m quite sure this store was catered to those who like to live in a world where everyone should be smiling every possible minute, and anyone reading depressing books are considered “weirdos.”  So basically, a thermal difference arises between the parlormaids and when people like me come hopping down the store.

So the chick was like “we’re gonna sing!” in a way that shamed all those Disney movie cast members.  And everyone in the store, those preparing other people’s ice creams, walking around busily, started to sing along the tunes of We Wish You a Merry Christmas  “We wish you a happy ice cream, we wish you a happy ice cream, and a happy new year.”

Bleh-

It was soooo bizarre….
I am assuming that they do the same in their country of origin, U.S…..

For those who are curious what it looks like, someone who was bold enough to request the shops clerk to sing and have a filming fetish has posted a video here:

Oh, and the store might have a creepy synthetic happy happy culture, the ice cream rocks in pacifying the addict’s urges.

By the way, how much do they get paid by an hour?

How to Deal

Few moths ago, I applied for a job position. Being a self-proclaimed “king of multi-tasking,” I thought a role as a coordinator was ideal for me.
Saying that, being a coordinator can be tough. Dealing with people who suffer from habitual tardiness can irritate you, bombarding you with the question “how stern should you be with your coworker?” Deadline pressure can give you an uncomfortable adrenaline rush, probably the same kind that Jack Bauer must feel in the third episode of the season.
So naturally, the interviewer asked the following question:
“Dealing with people can be very stressful. How do you deal with stress?”

How do I deal with stress?

When the world is giving you so many things you don’t want to digest on your plate, what do you do? What do I do?

I would turn off all the lights in the house, and fill the tub with hot water. The sound of water raining down in the tub somehow soothes me. Then engulfed in the darkness, I would rest my body, tired from the day’s work, in the warm personal hot spring.

Or I would indulge myself in things I shouldn’t. Binge-eating. Okonomiyaki, cake, gummy bears… Bring it on! Higher the cholesterol level, the better. I would feel such a satisfaction when my stomach is full, and all the worries go away. I joke that my weight correlates with my stress-level.

I can also dish out my rumbling sentiment onto the computer screen, using Microsoft Word. I can pretend to be Shakespearean, scribing “Oh, wretched diary, hear my sorrow!” Or regain my teen rage and write “Dear diary, I am bloody ****ing pissed!”

I could grab iPod and a pair of sneakers, running into the dark town. Listen to nothing but my favorite tunes, and on the deserted pavement, I would move my legs deftly until my stress has gone as sweat.
Or change into my swim shorts and don a goggle. Exhaust myself and hear my heartbeat thump under the water so I won’t feel anything but an urge to rest.
Watch a stand-up, and laugh heartily as the comedians succeed in doing their job right in pointing out how funny everyday life can be.
Receive a massage, feel other people’s human worth transcending into mine, rubbing my bodily aches away.
I can also go to a game arcade, feel like a B-movie’s action hero as I blow up evil zombie’s head.

Or I could call up my aunt, like I do once in a while. It really deeply moves me that someone who I haven’t seen for years (for I haven’t lived in Japan before) would believe in me so deeply. It moves me that someone who is not here wishes for my happiness, and would come up with statement such as “I went to your grandfather’s grave, and prayed that he will look after you, so you will make the right choice.” It means a lot that there is someone who will be there, away from the distraught that I encounter.
I guess there are a lot of things you can do, in order to deal with stress.

Why Do Gays Strip?

I get hot easily.
I really do.

I frequently get asked the question, “aren’t you cold?” for I would be in my colorful summer T-shirts when everybody else is covered densely in their dark winter coats.

So when I went to an open-air rave this April, I had to take off my T-shirt after few minutes of crazy dancing.
I was with two friends then.
When I said “God, it is so hot. I need to take off my jacket,” one of my friends posed an interesting question.

“Why do gay men strip a lot?”
“Huh?”
It was an awkward question to get asked when you had to take off your jacket due to heat. I didn’t consider it stripping. And I don’t strip a lot when I have an audience.
Now, she is an extremely hot chick, so my guess is that she enjoys going to gay clubs with her gay friends, for she is safe from constant approach from guys who want to be her “friends” in hopes that they can advance to “friends with benefits” stage to say the least.
“Oh, you mean why a lot of gay guys take their shirt off in clubs?”
“Yeah, that.”

Now, I am really not sure about the answer.
For those who haven’t been to gay clubs…. let me explain. It is common to see…. say at least 5% of guys in gay clubs dancing shirtless. Depends on the club, but sometimes there are underwear parties… Apparently.

Personally speaking, I used to take off my shirt a lot in gay clubs, and wished I could do the same in straight clubs. After dancing for few mins, I would get hot and would take off my shirt. Back then, I used to be extremely athletic. Like, “waking up at 5 in the freezing morning to jog 2 miles is fun” athletic. So it was all right. Now, I wouldn’t dare take off my shirt in clubs.

One time, I was wearing one of those athletic shorts that you don’t wear an underwear in a gay club. I was compelled to take off my shirt, for it was getting a bit too hot, then I realized that it would be a bit too much, so I didn’t.

Saying that, I don’t think all the guys that go shirtless in gay clubs have high body temperature like I do. Which got me thinking….

There was one time in Ageha, when I got wet (you can guess why) and was shirtless when the security guard stopped me and advised me to wear a shirt because “it is gross when you get contact with other people’s bare skin, isn’t it?” Which was an odd thing to say in a club that hosts gay nights…. But I completely agree. I find it gross brushing against sweaty shirtless guys in gay clubs. Reminds me of time when I used to play basketball (skin vs shirts), and sometimes you get guy’s sweat-spurring torso brushing right against your face. Which is absolutely gross.

Why do guys go shirtless in gay clubs???? Why don’t straight guys go shirtless in clubs? Then I came up with my own brand of answer:

“1) You know those chicks in Shibuya that wear skimpy outfit, but aren’t really sluts?”
“Yeah.”
“I think they get off the attention that they get from guys, and enjoy shunning guys that make a move on them. I think it is the same principle.”
“Ugh, I hate them.”

2) “Or they are simply sluts, and it’s a way of tacitly implying ‘I want sex’ for others who are gagging for sex. It’s like holding a sign that says “Sex sex sex,” that lights up in neon colors.”

3) “Or unlike straight people, us gay guys go after someone that has the same chromosomes as we do. Because we know our body well, some people want to see more. And because the objects of affection know what turns on the guys, they go shirtless as well. I think”

4) (Not so common but) Or they have cool tattoos that they want to show off.

5) (Oh what the hell) Because some of them have spent hours in the gym, and struggled eating healthy and drinking protein shakes and that supplement shakes that taste horrible. They want to show off the fruits of their product, and because our society hasn’t completely embraced nudity at work, let alone street, they go wild in the clubs.

I’m really not sure why a lot of gay guys feel compelled to show off their nipples in gay clubs. Cuz the only reason why I did was cuz it was freakin’ hot! I find indoor pool a bit too hot.

We ended up staying in the house music area, for my hot female friend enjoyed swimming in the groove. Again, you could tell that she enjoyed going to gay clubs, for the music was kind that they play frequently in gay clubs in Japan.

PS

Later on, a guy came up to me with a coy smile and said “hi.” I got reallllllly freaked out cuz that was completely unexpected, and I was with my friends. He seemed a bit dejected and went away. I was with my friends, so I hesitated a bit, but did what I felt was right thing to do. I tried going after him to say “sorry if I freaked out a bit. I was with my friends,” so I wouldn’t hurt the nice (probably) lad’s heart. I didn’t manage to find him, but wherever you are, a nice blue-hoodie wearing white guy, you probably are a nice guy, and hope your brush with a shy guy don’t deter you from your pursuit of finding a nice companionship within the male population.

Love, Lance