While the weather had been great in the first five days or so, it began to rain last Wednesday, and we were driving up to Fukushima that very day. The overnight trip went well, thank God. After that, the chilly wind arrived and my nose decided to block itself, which made venturing out of the house a chore.
I do hope the weather would turn around again during my last weekend here. It’s been drizzling on and off so far. *sigh*
- – -
Paul’s quite honest here, IMO. Taken at Ueno Toshogu Shrine
- – -
Have met quite a few old friends here. People I’ve known since 10-15 years ago. So it’s been good, and my host has been really great. A few more days before I go home. 10 days can go by really fast.
I am off again. This time to Honshu island of Japan. Just heard on the radio earlier today that Barack Obama will be visiting from next week. Hmmmm….. adakah kita ingin pergi mengendap, buat-buat sibuk? 
I don’t like packing for winter. For starters, my winter clothes are pretty much the same stuff I’ve had since the late 90’s, with a few recent additions. Secondly, they take up so much space! In the end, I packed just enough for a few days but still ended up with a full luggage. Ah well.
- – -
There are people to meet, football match to watch, food to eat (of course) and onsen! I just hope the wind won’t freeze my face.
Back in 10 days.
It used to be that Sunday is my laundry and lazing day, when apart from washing my clothes I just bum around and not venture out from the house unless I feel like having pasar malam fare for dinner. Then I’ll bum around summore until it’s time for bed, wishing it’s another Sunday the next day instead of the start of a new working week.
Now that I’m keeping my own time again, Sundays are usually the busiest day of the week. A few weeks back, I had Kam Raslan as a guide to show me (plus many history nerds/photo enthusiasts/etc) around a small part of KL on a short historical walking tour organised by the Instant Cafe Theatre’s new initiative CHAI.
Today, I had company to catch the last day of the KL Sing Song 2009. It turned out to be a really enjoyable outing as the talents were superb and entertaining.
Nik bin Jidan is one of a number of buskers who participated and Barrock was somehow inspired to get cracking on his guitar lessons. Heh. For me, Sharidir & Nizam P in the second set stole the entire show and made it their own. While all the talents held their own, it was great to see how diverse their music can be even when everyone had the same instrument to perform with.
The next two Sundays I will spend in Tokyo. I’ll be watching FC Tokyo play Urawa Reds at the Ajinomoto on the 8th but haven’t decided on the second Sunday. I’ll think about it.
“So how are you, really?” I have not seen her for over five months, since she moved downtown. Since that night.
“I’m fine, really.”
“No more cutting?” She showed me her left arm, then the right. The scars looked faded, no new ones. I was glad, and told her so.
“I’ve missed you.” She lit a cigarette. I was hoping she’d quit that too. One thing at a time I guess.
We spent most of the night catching up, trading jokes, stories and some tears, before I drove her home. I think she’s going to be okay.
- – -
I knew her from work, she was quite popular with the guys in my department and one day we were at the same assignment. We’d somehow connected over bad coffee after the event and got along well ever since. After a while, we got closer and I learned about the other side of her that was kept fairly hidden from prying eyes. The cutting habit, the drugs. Having a lousy live-in boyfriend didn’t help matters either but my concern was more about her. I had seen her scars and knew it was more than physical pain that she’s suffering from.
But how do you help someone, when outwardly she looks like she doesn’t need any?
- – -
Six months ago, I had moved to another job and we saw less of each other. The live-in was no longer in the picture and things seemed fine for a bit. I heard she was doing well at work, her stories seemed less… edgy. More coherent, definitely readable. Until one night, when she called me up. I knew she was high, she’d always have some loud rock music on when she wants to get stoned. However, her voice sounded different, desperate. I went over and it took her a while to open the door.
The image of her with a bloody arm is not one I’d likely to forget anytime soon. I remember taking the blade from her and tried to stop the bleeding. Her glazed eyes looked at me but I doubt she knew what was happening. I knew crying will not help but I cried anyway, while searching for the first aid kit. Luckily, she actually had one.
“You shouldn’t have done this. Why didn’t you just let me die?”
She had slept off the drugs and woke up in pain. I could only offer her coffee.
“Because it isn’t your time to go.” I didn’t press her about what happened but I knew that she could tell that I was angry. I had hoped she would argue that she was fine but instead she started telling me her story. So I listened.
“You are definitely the most screwed up rich brat I know.” She laughed at that. It sounded hopeful.
I have a feeling that it’s gonna be a long, BLEARGHHH Monday.
