Let's be clear, again

Ok, so if you are reading this, you have probably read my last post. Just for the record I don't actually hate Japan, and I don't hate the Japanese (only a select few who have decided to cross me in hand-to-hand combat). My last post showed a distinctly feral side of my nature that few have scene, and I have decided to leave the post up only because I find it to be an interesting piece, as it was written about a half-hour after the incident (the time it took to walk home) when I was still in an adrenaline flushed dinosaur brain. I had a rough next day, the combined weight of a hangover and the physical strains that rushing that much adrenaline through your body will take. I stand by my statement that I never want to stare down someone with a weapon pointed at me again. Nevertheless, I must admit that I had always wondered what would happen in that situation. What do you really know about yourself until you are faced with a life or death situation (to paraphrase Tyler Durden...sort of). All told I am fairly satisfied with my reaction. First I fled, which I think is a fairly healthy reaction as we were fairly evenly matched weaponless. Second, when I realized the futility of my flight I turned and stood my ground ready to rock. Third, and now we get into new material, once he realized I wasn't going to run anymore and wasn't going to back down, I was able to finally reason with the guy and got him to throw away the bottle. I cried, but they were angry tears. We talked for a while and he apologized, and I apologized for kicking his door, which I shouldn't have done. The monster inside subsided. Only after did the weight of the situation combined with the massive adrenaline flowing through my veins take me back into a mad rage that had no outlet but this blog.

I returned home and ripped my good shirt off and then tore it to pieces. I pulled on my pajama pants and threw my dress pants down to the floor. The screen of my cell phone shattered in my pocket. When I realized this after writing my entry I felt the cold grip of insanity pulling at my brain. So much stupidity, and there was nothing I could do about it. In my drunkeness I had lost my bag. In my rage for losing my bag I had nearly started a fight that could have gotten me seriously injured or worse. In the frustration that had followed I had destroyed my cell phone. Drunkeness, rage, and frustration: three things that have long been my greatest enemies, had cost me so much in the span of little over an hour. I woke the next morning with an emptiness. Frustration had led me to drunkeness. Drunkeness, in its extreme form, had led me to rage. Rage left to simmer had turned into frustration. In the midst of this I felt like I was lost.

Shortly after waking, my phone, shattered but still functioning (much like myself), rang. It was a call from my family. They were on vacation in Michigan, where my family has gone almost every year since decades before I was born. I talked to one loved one after another, hiding my shame and pain. I wanted to be there, away from this place. Somewhere comfortable. Somewhere where I knew the score. After hanging up, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I still felt lost, but I realized again that I wasn't alone, and that gave me strength.

I rose from my bed and showered. Still weak on the inside, I left my apartment an hour early so I could try to replace my cell phone (which I need here more than anywhere as my sole means of communication with friends). When I arrived at the shop with over a thousand dollars cash in my pocket, ready to get that part of my broken self back at any cost. The staff were surprisingly helpful, though. They sent my phone to Sharp to be repaired and gave me a loaner in the mean time. The lady helping me actually nearly dropped my broken phone in the process, forcing a laugh from me and I said, "see, thats how it happens." She laughed, and so did I. It felt good.

I still had a full day of work ahead of me, though, and my small victory at the cell phone shop couldn't diminish the fact that I had to appear happy and funny. I looked at my class schedule, recognizing many of the students and groaned. My coworkers, however, listened to my story wide-eyed and showed me a great deal of support, along with some much appreciated ribbing. Miraculously, I had one of the easiest schedules ever with many students not showing up and others showing a rare display of charm.

After work was finally over, I went to the gym, feeling too physically damaged to attempt running I settled in on a bike. The first five minutes on the bike were tough, but finally the gears caught and I felt new strength in my limbs and I rode hard for thirty more minutes. Working out was good, even with the added guilt of having lost my workout journal in my bag. It felt pure and clean. Frustration seemed to drain from me with each strained repition. When I returned home I heated and powered down some of my disgusting but nutritious "tofu chili", and collapsed into bed.

I slept for ten hours. A wonderful dreamless sleep. I woke this morning feeling wonderful. I finally realized that all I had lost were a few little possesions, nothing that it the long run would be missed. And I realized that both here and at home I had many people that cared for me (thank you to the people that commented on my last entry, it felt good to hear kind words. Also to the guys here that came looking for me ready to slay the bottle weilding bartender). More than anything I learned that I can survive. That I will stand in the face of danger and bounce back. That I am durable. It gives me strength to know that I can tackle difficult situations that arise, and fight whatever demons that I have. After all, what do you really know about yourself until you have been in a life or death situation.