We've all been there haven't we? You're in love, think it's the real deal, goes a bit wrong, you convince yourself there's more fish in the sea... You then go one of two ways- 1. Throw yourself under anything with a pulse in a frantic bid for anything that makes you feel less like an alien, or 2. Do something drastic like leave the country, shave your head, become a Monk... Then cycle repeat. But what if you find yourself at an impasse and go neither way? What happens then? Well, dear Reader. This is where you find yourself in the jarring Upside Down of what-the-fuck-ery so you do now? Picture this: You respect your body and your twat a lot more than you did in your twenties, having abstained from the things that nearly destroyed you despite them being 'easy fixes'- the behaviours playing to an anthem of an initially steady (but rapidly gaining) momentum decline that would be enough to give Newton a rod on. However, convincing yourse...
A month down the line. It's hard to believe that a month ago today we were both well in the depths of the most horrific long haul flight I'd never imagined I'd be mopping sick up on, navigating tiny aisles and even tinier seats with my lardy arse, or that we were about to embark on a holiday of a lifetime. Let alone, be stuck on the other side of the world in charge of a frothing loud and hyperactive Small for ten days, with not even a sniff of another responsible adult to take the slack. But we did, and it's done. And it's been really weird being home. Japan is the only place that less-than-stable 20-something me would've easily spontaneously gotten on a plane and never returned from, and I'm feeling the pull still even as a semi-conscious semi-adult 30-something, so it must have been decent. We've acquired this cute little mama-Small delusion where we'll still faux plan a day exploring the suburbs, like we're waltzing around bustling Ueno r...