Soy Joy Syndrome

Well Dears, it's been a while.  Spring and Summer have been filled with duties and distractions, but Mr S has nagged me to start digitalizing all my notebooks, so, hopefully, some of their pages will make their way here.  However, I'm working on my propensity for indulging in avoidance of the blank page.  Thus, today's post.

After work, I headed across town to Donkihote - a psychedelic trip of a store; no chemical additives required.  The butt-brush aisles are packed with everything from Halloween costumes to sex toys in colours last seen at a 90s rave, whilst jingles and J-pop induce headaches from speakers that require a health check.  I usually avoid Donki, as it is more affectionately called, like politicians avoid the truth.  Although it's an experience, I value my eyesight, hearing and sanity.  However, Halloween is just around the corner and some things only the Don can provide.

After about five minutes (my usual cut-off time), I began to wonder when the migraine was going to hit.  Half an hour later, it hadn't.  And I was still inside the store.  "Huh," me thoughts to myself.

Then, on the way out, I was feeling a wee bit peckish and with errands still to be run, decided to grab a Soy Joy to tide me over.  Now, Soy Joys and I have a bit of a history.  When I first came to Japan, I gave them a try and after the first bite realized we were not going to be friends.  But, you know, you get stranded at combinis enough times having to choose between the cold deep-fried mystery meat, the sad egg mayo sandwich and the Soy Joy.  The Soy Joy starts winning.  Skip ahead two years and you find yourself saying "Nom nom nom!" as you bite into the texture of month-old cake.

So this got me thinking (I know, shocking!): when you're living in a new country, or just dealing with your life being different from what you knew before, and have been living it for a while, do you start suffering from Soy Joy Syndrome?  Were your first assessments wrong and you just needed to give unfamiliar things a chance?  Have you become more open minded? Or, do we just learn to make the best of the situation we're in?  When is acquiring a taste really just settling?  And, when should you stop over-thinking your snacks?

Friday, 18 March 2011

First real downtown day and I'm drained.  The past week has been one of scattered sleep.  I'm sitting in an electronics store.  We were hoping to find a kettle, but they are sold out.  The kettle has been our main saving grace - a brief respite from cold as we splash ourselves in our antiquated bathing system.

The days of not writing are grinding on me.  This is one of the few moments I've had to myself in a week.  I'm getting grumpy and snappy, especially at Mr S, whose jokes are wearing thin - mostly because he has a bag of favourites that he enjoys using over and over again.  The words "It's a biological attack!" weasel their way into every conversation and now have the effect of making me want to punch him.  Also, I seem to have become gas and food controller, cook and dishwasher.  Being the nagging matron makes me loath every careless light left on that I have to switch off, every time I have to switch off the gas mains, every dirty tissue that needs to be thrown away.  Just want to talk to someone other than Mr S for a few minutes. Haha.  They've just walked past me.

The afternoon was a good break.  Saw people I hadn't seen since The Event.  An overly long hug.  A kind individual who has more than their fare share of work let me bitch for half an hour.  Now that the leavers have left the city, a little of the tension has eased.  Although I was super tired today and the spicy ramen lunch did nothing for my tum tums (eventually caved and took a painkiller), I feel a little less wound up with waiting.

Threw a tantrum this morning when I knocked over the water I boiled for my basin bath.  A few days ago, the first basin bath was so delicious, but it's wearing thin and I just want to take a proper fucking shower.  Ooooh!  I'm circling the bottom of a mug of hot wine and it's shot straight through my head.  Still bubbling with nervous energy, but it's comforting to sketch the symbols of words across the page.

Other scenes from today?  Stew for breakfast - all those veggies.  Just make me feel better, like light in my tummy.  Shower - we've already covered that screaming match.  The kettle is leaking.  But, we've found the source and will glue it up.

Craving a square of breathing space, but, at the same time, with the subway not fully operational (I feel like I'm in an episode of Star Trek writing those words), I don't want to be alone yet.

The floor is squeaking in new places as Mr S washes the dishes - high pitched screams timed to hip hop beats, but he has his headphones on.  The urge to punch bounces in my palm.

A gathering of the last stragglers here tomorrow night.  A little wine.  A little release.

Dreamed of Ruby last night - well, him merged with Neil Gaiman, leading me through a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

What is up with this constant need for cooking?  Wish they would just put me to work in a kitchen somewhere.  I really hope that people come through tomorrow night.  I want a lot of people here to clear the space of all the kak heaviness.

Mr S is watching cricket.  Even on Saturday, when we still didn't have electricity and were conserving cell phone use, he checked the cricket score on his iPhone.

Thursday, 17 March 2011

So many people have left.  Been restless all day.  Snacking all afternoon. Eventually started cooking and cleaning (I KNOOOW!  I turned into a gen-u-iiine domestic demon).  Should've been writing.  Snacks made my stomach churn.  Need to get out and downtown tomorrow.  Thoughts skittish.  Yummy vodka from M and G.

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Mr S forced me out of bed this morning to head downtown.  I reaaaally didn't want to go.  I'm amazed at myself sometimes.  I like to consider myself a curious individual, yet fatigue, apathy and not wanting to seem stupid squash this quality until I'm a mush of melted cheese in front of the tv, watching shows I have no interest in.

Mr S loved the salad.  He eats everything like it's been weeks, not hours, since he last ate.

Made our way downtown.  Long line for the bus - like definition of long, long:

The snow was drifting down like perfectly timed confetti, tossed by stage hands from the rafters of a fire hazard theatre.  I miss being backstage - the gloom in the wings; the hush of watching the other actors on stage; being as quiet as possible with every word, every step, every rustle of skirt; the fear that gently strangles your throat as you cross the threshold as you make your entrance.  Then BOOM! You're on and the words are carrying you.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Scavenging the vending machines for fluids.  I'm regretting every cigarette half-smoked or thrown away; food tossed out or over-eaten in binges - every little scrap wasted.  Ever.  The dilemma of standing in front of a vending machine, wanting to raid it for everything it's worth, but knowing that the streets are haunted with other desperate people.  And, they are standing behind me, pretending not to watch how much I'm taking.

We need to set up a rationing plan, make everything stretch.  Have to go down to the river and more water before the weather turns foul.  Fill the cistern.  Go down by myself, can't wait for Mr S.

Made my first real meal.  Veg and bean soup, rice and a cucumber and avo salad.  The constant nibble cravings for junk have subsided after having Food.

Living with Mr S is starting to grind my teeth.  It's been such a comfort having him here, but I feel like I'm having to nag so much - about conserving resources, keeping the apartment clean, eating the fresh food before the non-perishables, making things stretch, saving tea bags, not assuming that anything is disposable.

The waiting waiting WAITING!  Mr Australia and Super K left for Niigata early this morning.  They offered to take us with them, but we decided to stay.

Saw cars backed up waiting for gas today.  I wonder what happens if they run out.  A city of abandoned and rotting corpses of metal and rubber.

Sputtering pipes.  "Maybe the water is reviving," we hope.

Mr S is on the phone to a friend whose whole town is gone, though I'm sure they'll find a desk for her to sit behind for a few months.

A cup of secondhand tea.

We still had to take off our shoes when we went into the shelter.

Monday, 14 March 2011

Monday, 14 March 2011
Morning
Exhausted is an ineffective word.  In the line at Seiyu, which has finally opened.  Mr S had a big (and delusional) plan to break in tonight.

Mr S got water from the river.  Just boiled it and had my first "bath" in the basin. SOOOO GOOOD!  To have clean (relatively) hair and fuzz free armpits.  And then I think of all the millions for whom this would be luxury, for whom worse is a daily ritual - not a brief detour that you tell people about over glasses of wine and that can be escaped once pipes are repaired.  Thanks for the downer, Miss Reality Check.

The internet is back on again.  How the world moves on!

Boiled water to wash the dishes.  The day has worn me down - the waiting for another quake, having supplies but not knowing how long they will have to last, the Question: Are Things Going To Get Worse? following me around and tugging on my arm.

Subtle tremors, or Mr S shaking his leg?
Do I spend water on a cup of tea?

Late that night
People are starting to lose their heads about the nuclear reactor.  A call from Mr Australia with the possibility of leaving tonight.  A bag is packed and waiting at the door.  A brief snapshot of having to watch Mr S die winks at me while I pack.  But, all I can really think about is whether or not to I should open the shrimp chips.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Sunday, 13 March 2011
I waited for over an hour in the queue at the combini this morning.  As I got to the front, I had to wait at the closed doors for someone to come out before I would be let in.  The doors were covered in newspaper.  For twenty minutes I stared at smudged black and white anonymous erections overflowing onto the impossible breasts of school girls.  I didn't know there was manga porn in newspapers.  Every day is indeed an opportunity to learn something new, especially for the children who received endless entertainment from pressing their faces to the glass doors.


Finally admitted inside, with only the choices of snack foods and stationery, I opted for calorie/vitamin/nutrient replacement delivery systems.  Wandered around for an hour, searching for Mr S, who had (unbeknown to me) finished at his store.  He slept over again last night, camping out in my lounge.  We dined on soup from the freezer, thanks to the discovery that my gas is working, and did tarot readings by candlelight for each other.

We took our first Number 2s this morning, which we wrapped in plastic bags and stored outside.

Cell phone contact is still sketchy.

My stomach is raging after I made a stew of veggies, tofu, beans and noodles that needed to be used up.  Feeling exhausted now and not quite sure what to do with myself, or whether I'm expected to go to work tomorrow.

Later that night
Stomach is still churning and stabbing my nervous system.  Feeling guilty about giving into the snack food.  Tidied up a bit, but now Mr S has gone back to his apartment to check on developments there and I'm at a complete loss at what to do.  Itching to wash myself but can't spare the water.

This Terrified Teenage Girl - so happy with the weight loss of the last few weeks - is guilt tripping me about the diet of refined carbohydates since Friday.  "But," Rational Thought whimpers, "I've had to walk way more that usual and stand in queues and return furniture to where it belongs!  The calories burned from the cold last night alone!  And it's not like I binged!"
"Yes, but," Terrified Teenage Girl butts in, " It's been eating for eating's sake or because Mr S is eating or out of fear that you might not get another chance to eat!  Forcing food down!  Probably out of dehydration more than hunger!  This is a disaster goddammit!  You should be getting skinnier!  Where are those fucking ribs?  The sunken cheeks?!?"

The underlying terror of yesterday.  We had gotten to the shelter, where they were filling bottles.  We had seen people leave with huge containers of water - 10 or 20 litres - only to be turned away when they ran out 5 minutes later.  If I had had the energy, fury would've slapped someone through the face that they had allowed people to leave with such large amounts when there were at least a hundred people in the queue, all in need - throats dry and heads muggy.

The fruit in the freezer has defrosted.  We'll have to try to eat as much as we can tonight, maybe the rest tomorrow.  After that, it will have to be thrown away. Just have to accept the losses.

It's getting dark.  Still no word from Mr S, or what I'm supposed to do tomorrow.  Am I expected to go to work without water or electricity?  It's getting cold too.  First time alone since the earthquake.  Didn't get water from the river.  We should still survive tonight, but will have to go tomorrow.

The silence and the dark creep in.  My painkillers don't seem to have been very effective.  Phone is nearly dead.

After sunset
Electricity is back!  I'm a little sad that the camping is over, but Not Having To Freeze Another Night sweeps Sadness away.