it's the end of a story / it's what happens next
and so we start.
where are we? at the beginning it seems, though so much older; the ouroboros has caught its tail. but then, it is a beginning, even if it starts with sharp teeth. (don't things always start with sharp teeth?)
so let me talk about those teeth to start with, the broken skin, the blood rising to the surface, the metal tang, a new wound over a scar that's still thick with red tissue.
it was one look and it hit me, recognition, as though I suddenly was there again, at the start. right where it all was a poison, bitter and intoxicating, and so even squirming with the pain of it seeping through my insides, retching out bile, I couldn't help but to drink more.
and perhaps I'm being unfair and presumptuous. perhaps the thoughts behind that look were perfectly pleasant, no drip of poison there, but somehow I can't help but to feel like a rat watching a cat blink with ease, telling myself it's just relaxing, telling myself the claws will stay withdrawn, the teeth unbared, that perhaps those claws and teeth aren't there at all, not anymore. but perhaps I'm being unfair.
but I can't help but to get a flash of a neon sign when I tried looking for a short story from days gone by, and came across a letter the likes of which I can't recall writing, the writer of which I can't recall having been, quite neatly summing up the way she manipulates people, coldly observes them, masks what she considers most beneficial to keep masked.
and then, to add to that, my childish-seeming displeasure and hurt when I am ignored, and the way that brings to surface all those other crimes that did exist, were committed, with purpose, that really were ugly, and still are, even if I'm supposed to have forgotten, to have neatly wiped it all away as though cleaning the blood means the wounds are gone, and the weapons.
so the look. I stepped off the bus, and she looked at me and I at her, and that look felt like a snarl, like baring of teeth, like, oh you better know your place.
and of course, being that a sense of inferiority is my birthright, it threw me off balance, made it difficult to breathe through the mask pressing against my mouth with every shaky breath.
I know the message, oh look you've gained weight, and I've lost. so you lose the game, I win. this, of course, was not the message when it was the other way around, not in the least. (I'd actually, mercifully, caught a whiff of this at beforehand, and so it wasn't the fact of the matter that stung but those cold eyes.)
and that reminds me... if I, the rat, stop pretending that the cat is clawless and toothless and snoozing in the sun, I can't help but to remember that evidence has always suggested that to her, self-interest goes above all. can she be generous? yes, if it benefits her. can she be kind? yes, if it benefits her. can she care about things? yes, if it benefits her. and once it doesn't, those things fall away. there's no generosity, there's kicking you in the head when you're already down, and then laughing out loud, over your misfortune and her fortune, there's teeth gleaming in the bite, in the laugh, in the sneer.
and so I can't help but to wonder... could it be that 'fat people shouldn't be treated shittily?' only counts as long as you are one? I expect we'll see.
but yes, I can feel that look and all that goes with it as a churn in the pit of my belly. and I can feel it in the desire to gnash my teeth together, lift my lips, and snarl.
and of course, yes, also the desire to back away, whimper, roll on my back, bare my throat. as the rat, to freeze, convinced I cannot escape my fate.
but the thing is, that's not the case this time around, in this beginning. this time around, there's nothing luring me (except isolation, of course) to be the rat to be toyed with until the final crunch of bones and flesh, and more importantly, she wouldn't even accept such a feeble sacrifice.
and then, of course, there's the (awfully tempting) option that follows from that-- giving up, remaining frozen, dying from fright, or just awaiting the next cat, the car wheel, the trapper to come, paralysed and poisoned by your own sense of inferiority, the brand that gaze pressed into your skin.
but that is not the only option. because the desire to snarl, to flash your own teeth, to bite exists, too. the desire to fight exists, too. and that's what I should allow to flow through my bloodstream, rise to my head.
so it's a beginning. there's a bitter taste in my mouth, perhaps that of my own blood from biting my tail. there's that feeling of those cold eyes on me, from the beginning, like we've come a full circle. but this time, I will decide to not be the one bitten, the one bleeding and raw. this time I have teeth, too.
so where are we? at the start. the bottom, one could say, but that's a start, too. that's how you get to the mountains.
so, the bottom-- I have no money and no job, haven't had one for a year and a half. that's an absolute pain, naturally.
I'm fat; not the fattest I've ever been, but I was much smaller only last year, like 24 kg smaller, which, of course, is also an absolute pain. (alas, no work means no money means no dental care means no sticking my fingers in my throat.)
and I'm in helsinki, so isolation is a thing, all the more so thanks to a pandemic and aforementioned issues that make me very reluctant when it comes to talking to anyone.
but then, in translation--
no job means new things. yes, probably not fun things, but all the same, a spark. and the relief of money coming in, eventually. and not being dead in your tracks.
being fat means that it's time to lose myself one more. it's summer now, and it's hot, and so getting lost in what it feels like to starve, to float fits well. I was stalling anyway, and so this should be a new spark. this time I can't slide back. and, of course, this time there is a challenge, a duel, a battle to be won. (fucking watch me)
and helsinki means that I should be hatching an escape plan. and there is one that as a whole is the light at the end of the tunnel, the reason for it all, and another one that I stumbled into tonight, that's a foolish game or perhaps a joke, we'll see.
and also, when that gaze, and the eternal echo of, you are less than-- sink their teeth into me, there's one thing to remember: if we could trade places, would I? so I'm fat and poor and jobless and lonely and in a country where I don't want to be. would I take her job of colourless social media and farmers markets, her comfortable flat and long-term boyfriend (cheaters hope karma gets ya~), the pets of the 'after five days away I miss my pets :(' variety, the holier-than-thou veganism, the cultural diet of video games and youtube videos and 'maybe I'll read a book on my holiday'? FUCK NO!!! and that's not bitterness talking either! am I bitter? of course! do I think it's fair she's so comfortable with how easy her life has been and the shit she's put others (me) through without a second thought? fuck no! but all the same, I would never ever ever ever trade. the thought makes me shudder, makes my skin crawl, makes me want to break something. no thanks, please keep it, maybe you can make it to a comfy supervisor job and 1.6 kids and omakotitalo and a boat and a summer cottage soon enough, good luck!
and that's the thing!!
am I at the bottom? yeah, I am. but the thing is, there's still a mountain to climb. I may be ill-prepared for the climb right now, but also when I shield my eyes from the sun and look up, those heights make me dizzy and floaty and fill my chest and make light course through my veins.
and never fucking ever would I trade that to looking at a picture of a mountain on your flat screen and being like, 'oh it's pretty I guess :)' and turning the ps5 on. fuck no.
and that's the thing. do I wanna compete with her? yes! is she ostensibly at a way better spot in the game right now? absolutely! but also, as far as most things go, I'm not running towards the same goal as her. it's an adjacent track but the destination is different.
the only really comparable part of this race is that I want to lose more weight than her. I want to be thinner than her. I want to be thin.
but other than that? well, I wanna be employed. what as? fuck if I know. right now, I really just want to find something that isn't completely murderously draining, and where I can make some money, firstly for the immediate needs, then for the immediate pleasures, and then also to save up some. and I want to move but that's tied to the 'save up some' portion. one day I'd love a semi-enjoyable job but first I have to figure out what that is, and right now my need for money surpasses such considerations.
and the biggest thing I have, even at this bottom, at this start, at this end of a cycle, is a foolish dream. it may sound wishy-washy but really it's the most important thing there is. because a dream equals fire.
so here's my stupid dream:
I want to go to a language school in japan. for a year, at least, ideally for two, and ideally-ideally, for longer. but because I have no idea what working and living there for more than three months in the middle of a pandemic is like, I accidentally recently learnt that language schools are absolutely the best option for finding out. they'll sponsor your student visa and you can work part-time simultaneously and a lot of them will help you with finding work and many are geared to prepare you for working life and/or further study, and you may even get an associate's degree. and I mean, if after a year or two it's like, 'yeah no, that's enough of this', then you'll know. so yes, it simply seems like the most perfect thing.
for the purpose of that, I need to save up at least the ~5.5k for a year's tuition, and of course ideally more since there's no telling how soon a part-time job can be found. but as long as I get a job, that's doable. I mean, I paid my way through oxford. I can do this, too.
and such foolish dreams, of course, come with their own, rather intoxicating to-do lists. like in this case: make money save up study japanese lose weight dress better get prettier be more purposeful be more minimalist savour all things read more watch more things arrange all your things let go of things become lighter lighter light, and so on.
is it a lot? can it be overwhelming? yes. but at the same time, it's so so sweet, so tempting, like glimmering water when you've been parched for ages.
and so, it's time for the climb now. the only way is up.
and so, yes, I need a job so I can afford things. necessities, lovely things, foolish dreams. for starters, any job will do. if it's an absolute pain, I'll search for another one while still getting paid.
and the thing about now is that I have escapes. my foolish dream as the light at the end of the tunnel. and things like studying japanese. and fiction (which I should consume more of). ways out if work turns out to be an absolute pain.
and so, because dreams are the fuel and the fire but you also need gather wood to keep it alive, I have to consider the practical things.
so right now--
1. there's a job I have to apply for because te-toimisto (or ~helsingin kuntakokeilu~) says so, despite the fact it requires you to be tradenomi, merkonomi or equivalent which a master of studies degree from oxford does not make me. like I wouldn't say no to the €2.2k pay but I somehow suspect they'll say no to me and so it'll very much be an exercise in futility. but oh well.
2. some random job I actually do qualify for (whoops, I thought I had one but turns out it's in tampere...) which do exist.
3. most foolishly, a telia phone job in spain. I accidentally stumbled across it, it's sales so a pain but at least company sales (so at least the people you're harassing are getting paid for their time and any possible bills don't come out of individual's pockets), and it's just--a totally random and ridiculous thought but I find it funny and beggars can't be choosers, so.
so basically, I want to prioritise the application to something I Could Actually in Theory get, do the one I'm required because I'm required despite not meeting the requirements, and the last one for shits and giggles in between. and also I should see about transcription online--it pays shit but pays.
and then, other than that, I should eat the calorific things I have and then find a neat way to starve for a bit. I know it's not easy because I haven't done it in ages, but at the same time, I have done it and succeeded before. and so I can now. for extra motivation, I've promised to cat sit if I don't get a job before then, so although it's impossible to lose an observable amount by--some time next month, it is possible to lose weight, and that'd be fun and good, if only as an internal 'oh hey this is a race now even if you can't tell :)' thing?
and then beyond that-- japanese, long walks, books, tv, films (oh I miss cinemas (specifically, orion and engel) so much but even if they're open (not sure?) I can't afford them so that must wait), art exhibits, some thorough cleaning, some thorough disposing of things at mother's, unfucking my sleep rhythm (haha it's 6am now and my eyes sting with sleep but I'm still gonna eat my second meal of the day) for starters. and I reckon I should write more.
and just-- it's hot summer, the back of my shirt is damp with sweat and the sun has only just risen, and there's that heady and intoxicating life feeling that summer brings. and I should chase after that.
really, one of the biggest things is looking for a balance of sorts--
a balance between the tedium and pain and discomfort that are job applications and all they entail, a way of focusing on them because they are the key for the door that leads to the sunlight, the climbing gear I need to reach the summit. giving them all I can because I need them to get to the good part. and also, for that brief sense of accomplishment of pressing the 'send' button, too.
and then the summer life that rises to your head-- everything from going out, wandering, taking a picnic by myself, sitting by the shore, letting the sun seep in, to reading hungrily, watching things hungrily, seeking out some good horror or suspense, watching a marathon of something, writing like this or writing the other way (like I keep checking a few tags, wishing someone would write about those two otokoyaku saying things like, 'but I lose to you though~ if there were such a bartender, I'd go to that bar everyday', and 'I like the way I can see all your feelings on your face', and all the rest, and yeah, that'd be nice, but it's not like I can't write such things myself? you tell yourself it's just the role, sinking a little deeper than is wholly ideal, but you stop there, don't consider it further because if you did, questions such as 'but he hardly has many warm feelings towards her, does he?' and 'do you really think he'd consider matching his clothes to her a worthwhile use of his time, that he'd even consider it something she might like?' might rise up, and that could be awkward. and so, she gives you flowers, and you think it's the role ('would he really approve of being given flowers daily? wouldn't he think it too cutesy and a waste of time and money?') and so you tease her a bit and she inclines her head and laughs as you're dancing, and you're sure that feeling like a drop of fresh cold water spreading through your bloodstream is the role that's sunk a bit deeper in, and so is the quickened pulse when you pull her to you, one hand against the patterned fabric of her dress, the softness of her belly beneath, and her hand over the other, your breath against the pale skin of the nape of her neck, her bare shoulder. and it must be the role when there comes the evening when after the show, almost by accident, you kiss her at last, and when her hands slide along your back as though they'd have been looking for the way there for ages and had finally found it. see?), and savouring all the little details. that's a way of making food better, too, of making even the crap of job applications get a sheen, when you turn it all into fiction. and also, the sweet poison of giving into the dark, the lightness of starvation that is both a real goal (as a race, for japan, to become lighter, brighter, light), and an awful beautiful game, and one so fit for sweaty summer days.
and so I should balance those things. or rather, I should make the former a part of the latter by making it into more fiction and then balance them through that--
what I mean by this is-- the more fiction things are, the more of a shine even the most basic everyday things acquire. it's essentially a zen approach, focusing on the little things, giving them their time and their place, which in turn enables you to see them in a new light. this way, even if job applications as such are a pain, if you can focus on them properly, they can be a task to complete with care, and so, there may be a small sense of pleasure, like getting your homework done or filling out a necessary form until it's all done. if you're able to focus on them like this, it's likely you'll get them done more quickly, and in turn, this will leave you more time for other things.
and in turn, if you can get a good rhythm with this, it will also make fully immersing yourself in fiction or a walk or a trip somewhere or a museum visit or anything of the sort easier, and more rewarding. since you've done your 'job', there isn't a sense of 'I'll sneak in a bit of this pleasant thing but really I should be doing x'; rather, you can enjoy it fully, and in the most fictional way possible.
and that's such an important lesson to learn--for now, for the 'workworkwork towards your goal' times, for the dream itself. the better I become at that, the more I get out of the now and of the future.
and also, and let me say, I do get the irony of saying this at 6.55am when there's something more than just brushing my teeth that I intend to do after this--fixing my sleep rhythm could work wonders with this.
it's not such an urgent thing right now, what with the summer light and tropical nights and nights like this do have their own very particular charm (and mm, I imagine marathoning lain or perhaps something more suspense-y on such a night?), but it will soon start getting dark sooner again, and it would be very helpful as a whole.
I mean, especially with something like the above dream of getting the work done and so being able to enjoy the nice things fully--
pretty much my worst enemy as a whole is the feeling of running out of time. it's the, 'I can't finish this because I need to get to the store on time, but also I wanted to go to place x but now it's too late, and really I should finish all these things because I'll be too tired when I get back' etc. etc. etc.
and of course, yes, that will exist regardless of when I wake up, and I need to take other actions to address that but also-- imagine waking up at, say, 7am? getting ready in general, then getting some coffee or tea, perhaps cold with ice, and cracking on a job application. a bit of fiction in between to keep going but with your focus on the application for the most part. and then, a few hours later, it could be done. and you'd have the rest of the day. I mean, hell, with such a schedule, you might even take a short early walk and then get to it? and I can't help but to think that that would make a real difference.
so okay, that won't start now. now I'll eat a bit, sleep at last, and stay asleep way too late. I'll do some small things tomorrow, a bit of an application, such. but also, start moving towards the summit.
this is a start, and it's a start at the bottom. but oh man, would you look at that mountain?