In just less than 24 hours I'll be leaving my little apartment and setting off toward the bright lights of Seoul, and then the bright lights of Tokyo, and then the bright lights of Detroit, to finally end up looking at the bright lights of Toronto. 30 hours later. THIRTY HOURS! (Here's where I insert am emoticon of a sick looking face. For Kevin. Because he sure does love the emoticons.)
Don't steal my idea, but I'm going to develop and market Emo-TEE-TEE's where with a push of a button you can display emoticons on the front of your t-shirt, thereby letting the whole world how you feel- or how you feel about the whole world. My name will be Jelly J. Fudd and I will own a mansion and a yacht.
Right now, I'd have one of those "yawny" smiley faces blinking on my chest. I've only had about four hours of fitful sleep each night over the past few days, and the exhaustion has seeped deep into my bones. Deep, deep into my core. Hopefully I'll never know for SURE, but I imagine this is what ebola feels like. A couple weeks back when I was still going to the doctor every day for my face, I told him I wasn't sleeping and he gave me 4 nights worth of sleeping pills. I didn't take any of them, because I've never taken them before and was a little nervous I'd be all groggy for work. The pharmacist assured me after 8 hours of zzzz's I'd wake up feeling right as rain, but still, I didn't take them. I think I might test-drive them on the long flight though, see if I can ease myself into the Bizzaro EST zone. I've got a fairly long stop-over in Tokyo, I think, so will be able to check in early. I've never been bumped up on a flight to business class, and I doubt it will happen (though I have hope- as my brother experienced that joy from Sydney to Toronto, so I know it occurs from time to time!) If it were to happen, the ticket agent should expect a very long kiss on the mouth from me. I'd skip the sleeping pills in that case and spend the whole flight gleefully rubbing my hands together and laughing manaically. I won't expect any kisses from my fellow business class travelers.
I'm feeling much better these days, apart from the exhaustion. My face is almost completely healed, with just a slight bump on the forehead. My heart is almost completely healed with just a slight bit of scar tissue. Everything happens for a reason though, and I might not be headed home if I hadn't smashed my face up. If I hadn't been with C. I'd never have gone to what turned out to be one of my favourite local restaurants. If I hadn't been all sad, I wouldn't have been out sitting crosslegged on some bench drinking a beer and watching the sunrise about three weeks ago. I wouldn't have run into the nice restaurant guy and his wife, who have quickly become wonderful friends. I wouldn't have met their brother in law, who is downright lovely and who will come and look after Kamikaze everyday while I'm gone.
I didn't tell you guys this, but a couple months ago I met C. downtown after work. He showed up wearing a knitted sweater vest with a large picture of Donald Duck embroidered on the back. I should have gone with my instinct and dumped him right then. HA!
Yesterday morning at about 7:30am, I should have been sleeping, but my mind was racing around and not letting me. I watched the grey clouds blow by my window. My heart was skipping a little and I suddenly recognized that feeling in my gut.
"Ah! Joy! Hisashiburi! Long time no see!"