Archive for the 'Personal Psychosis' Category

Violated

July 30, 2006

I got my apartment broken into today.

But it’s not what you think. My own fine parents broke into my apartment. This is how it happened.

I had been refusing to get up this morning, partly due to the bottle of white wine I singlehandedly downed last night, and partly due to the fact that I had nothing planned this particular Saturday save for an evening of fireworks in Asakusa with my friend Ali. Besides, moping around in bed (even if single) is one of the best ways to spend a weekend.

Around 1:30PM, my cell phone started trembling in fear. (I had it set in silent mode.) Then my home phone started ringing nonstop. Then, the door bell rang. Again, and again.
Who the hell comes to a girl’s apartment unannounced? Could it be the ex-fiance trying to evacuate his stuff out of my apartment? I tiptoed to the front door and peered through the peephole, only to find my mother pacing impatiently outside.

This was very bad news. Just two days ago, my mother had called me at work and managed to phrase things in a way that ripped open my heart’s wound. I subsequently had a nervous breakdown at work. I consequently had to explain to my female coworkers about the jerk who dumped me — which actually flourished into a liberating discussion on the shortcomings of husbands and almost-husbands.

Anyway, I decided I’d have nothing to do with my mother for at least a week. From where her conversation was leading the last time we talked, it was clear that she wanted me to get back together with my ex. But why in the world would you want to feed your daughter alive to a narcissist who wants only to succeed at work and doesn’t give a damn about family life? Obviously, this mother saw that his credentials were more important than his personality. Or, lack thereof.

So I kept on ignoring my mother. The calls, the rings, and the knocks on my door continued. I even received an email saying something to the effect of “I’ll be back, I know you’re there.” Then she really did leave. I gleefully went upstairs to the loft and practiced my mid-day Ashtanga yoga. An hour later, while I lay blissfully in shavasana position, the calls, door bell, and incessant banging on the door returned to haunt me.

I decided — and this was my BIG mistake — to ignore everything. I went back to bed for another nap. I couldn’t dare take a shower or open the fridge and take out my chilled bottle of water, in fear they will find me out.

Before I knew it, I heard bewildering shouts below my living room window. Then, the sharp sound of a window being opened in haste. And then — sounds of someone trying to crawl in through my living room window. Oh, the utter terror of knowing that someone is violating your private, sacred space — someone with dirty shoes, a crow bar, and of unknown identity! Meanwhile, I was still in bed and dressed rather skimpily. I didn’t budge. I didn’t dare make any sound. The guy went straight for the front door. God forbid, is he letting his buddies in?

Yes. My parents, actually.

I couldn’t even look at them, I was so raving mad. What were they thinking!? Are daughters’ apartments property upon which parents claim unlimited access to? What if this hired professional “key opener” guy returns in the cloak of night to rob me stiff? The worst part is, they brought along my ex. Apparently they were all quite chummy. They had formed a secret coalition against my imperfections, against every little thing I did wrong in my life — and they were there to point fingers at me.

Wait just a minute here. Were I the one who got dumped? Were I the one whose apartment got broken into by some stranger hired by my own parents?? Am I insane to think I have a right to be upset?

And of course, my ex added to the damage by calling my landlord and telling on him. Oh, great. Wonderful. Now my landlord thinks I’m some kind of psycho who loves to scare the pants off of family and friends. Just fabulous.

I remained cynical for the rest of the afternoon. I actually chuckled to myself when I witnessed my ex explaining to my father about why he decided to leave me. In all seriousness and dolour, he was explaining about the magic little chair that flew. My dad, similarly dead-serious, was nodding in agreement and saying, “Uh-huh. The chair. Terrible.” They could have been discussing business for all I know. Men are so pretentious sometimes.

Overall, a surreal afternoon. I had to miss the Asakusa fireworks. Afterwards I drank too much coffee to assuage my anger, and here I am writing my bloody little blog at 4 in the friggin’ morning. I absolutely refuse to acknowledge that half my weekend had already gone.

Hanabi

July 16, 2006

Sometimes I feel like everything is about to crumble inside.

Usually it starts off with a lousy misfortune. A petty mistake at work, perhaps. Or a fiance gone AWOL. That starts the ball rolling, and a sense of crisis slowly starts building up. Usually I can’t help myself. I watch, filled with a mixture of subjective fear and objective anticipation, as I tumble deeper and deeper into depression.

The depth and duration of these depressions vary. I used to hurt myself in all sorts of trivial ways to make myself feel more sorry for myself, or to ask for help in a round about way. Sometimes I contemplated on neat, painless deaths. I never could commit to the final act, obviously. I am too chicken — too blessed a chicken to really bring myself to end it all. I own too many precious things.

These days I’ve settled on spasmodic walking journeys with no destination, no map. Last Sunday I walked from Odaiba to Meguro in the drizzling rain. Today I walked from Meguro to Shinagawa, which wasn’t where I wanted to end my journey but thank capitalism for all those commercial traps and thank JR for the nice train ride. I really couldn’t have walked all the way to Yokohama in one day.

Once I got there I settled on dinner at Jonathan’s and waited until 7:30pm. And this is what I got at 7:30pm.

hanabi.jpg

Fireworks. In Yokohama.

I wasn’t planning on seeing them at all. In fact, I had to turn down a friend’s offer to go see it together because I thought I was going to attend another friend’s spoken word gig in Harajuku tonight. I had to ditch that one too — depression does not make for a very reliable friend.

The view of the fireworks were distant and obstructed (I watched from an overpass above Shin-Koyasu station), but thankfully it made me forget that I had wanted to make myself miserable. I think I was actually happy while I watched those artistic bombs explode and die. It was cathartic. It felt good to see something else crumble to its death so brilliantly. Yet another sign telling me to go on and live my life.

otona?

July 12, 2006

今日は新宿国際名画座に行ってきた。ちょっと大人になった気分。

今年の夏は、いろんな意味で大人になれと背中を押してくれている。大人として責任を持って対処しなければならない試練をいろいろ与えてくれている。

弟に「寿の便り」 なんて言い回しをされて、そんなフレーズを聞いたこともなかったこの姉としては、そろそろ本当に大人にならなければいけない。

いままで自力で生きていける自身がなくて、ずっとまわりの人に迷惑をかけてきた。実際、ひとりじゃ恐くて寂しくて、死んだほうがマシだと思える日もあるけど、それでもなんとか自力で生きていかなきゃいけないんだね。それがotonaっつうことですかな。そう自覚した理由は、もちろん国際名画座ではない。

東京小旅行

May 16, 2006

今日は、一日の八分の一を歩き通した。

職場の六本木から中目黒まで約3時間。空気が抜けてどうしようもないチャリを押しながら、ひたすら自転車屋を求めて歩き続けた。結局見つからずじまいだったけど、そのあいだにいろんなことを悶々と考えた。

どうして自分が意地悪な人間になってしまったのか?
つまり、どうして他人のことが好きになれないのか?
とどのつまりは、どうして自分のことが嫌いなのか?ということなど。

そもそも今朝から体調が優れなくて、おまけにメチャクチャ忙しい日だったので、一日の終わりにどうしようもない敗北感を味わったのが歩き出した直接の理由。気分転換の意味で、最近友人から譲り受けたサビだらけのチャリを修理に出しに行こうと決めた。職場からすぐそばの自転車屋さんまでで、私の散歩は終わるはずだった。

しかし、行けども行けども自転車屋は連休中。六本木も、麻布十番も、白金も、広尾も、目黒も、中目黒も、どこもみんな閉まっているか、自転車屋さんが見つからないかのどっちか。事前にネットで調べておいたほうがよかったかもしれないし、PHSで調べようと思えば調べられたんだけど、どうしても行き当たりばったりの、いいことひとつもないミジメな散歩がしたかった。こういうことをしているから、親には馬鹿だとか半人前だとか言われるんだけどね。

時々、いかに自分が不完全な人間であるかが身に沁みて、死にたくなる。でもまわりの人間に今までこれだけ苦労をかけてきたのに、自ら死を選んでしまったら彼らに申し訳ないから、そんなことはしません。ただ、自分の存在価値がゼロに等しい気がする、…というか、マイナスというか。まわりの人間や環境に悪影響を及ぼすのは、ただのゴミ。私の存在価値は、今はゴミレベルかもしれない。

今流行りのデトックス効果で体内の毒素は排泄できるけど、心の穢れはどうやって排泄するのでしょう?

この質問に行き着いた人間が見つける答えは、やっぱり宗教しかないのでしょうか?