This post will contain no photos, since I haven't had a chance to take more with my workload for training. So if you only read this blog for the pictures, please just ignore this. However, I must share a sneaking suspicion that has been growing in my mind.
Have you ever had the totally irrational and paranoid thought that something (i.e. a physical object you own) is working against you? This happens to me now and again, but I'm usually just projecting the frustrations of my own failures onto objects to alleviate my sense of obligation to deal with said frustrations. It all started with a button...
I was getting up from sleeping on the plane on my way to Nartia. I stretched, and my entire shirt popped open. Please understand that the shirt I was wearing (as well as most of my clothes with me in Japan) was custom made for work, and had just been fitted for me the day before. They were also fitted deliberately to include such movements as stretching, since I work with children and I run around like a speed freak all day.
Buttons= 4, Vivian= 0. Luckily, it was dark in the plane, and I was given the opportunity to do up my shirt quickly before receiving a raised eyebrow from the stereotype-gay flight attendant.
Next, I was at training, jumping up and down repeatedly for some mock-class exercise. It was my turn to lead the class, and everyone was jumping around with me. I said "raise your arms" in my cheery kindergarten voice.... and my pants almost fell off. I had to quickly un-"raise my arms" to catch them from reaching my knees. Now, this one can be explained through the fact that I've lost quite a bit of weight since getting here, and my pants are almost too loose. I wear belt at all times now. But still, one has to wonder why the universe decided that that was a good time to deliver the message;
"Hey! You should wear a belt today!"
Moving on. The other day I had to do laundry, but I was skeptical about using the overpriced machines at the hotel I'm staying in. So I washed all my work shirts and pants by hand, along with the regular essentials, and hung them to dry... with the exception of my fitted shirts and some heavier clothing that would have taken up way to much precious time and space on my shower curtain rod. So I put my shirts in the dryer with my jeans and some sweatpants. Two hours later, no more white shirts! Now they were blue shirts. Or rather, white shirts that were just experimenting with being blue. Basically, it looked like my jeans had raped my brand new white shirts and left dirty blue man-stains all over them. I totally freaked and went out to buy bleach. Because I'm a superhero, I found it in under 1 hour, using only Kanji and my 10 word vocabulary, but I digress.
Today was la pièce finale. I was yet again in class, jumping and dancing and doing cartwheels, when I felt a strong breeze in my crotch area. There were no windows open nearby, so I gingerly reached down to feel out the damage. 5 INCH WIDE HOLE IN MY PANTS. Forcing down the sheer panic that one feels when one's underwear is exposed involuntarily, I finished the lesson, like the superhero I am. I then ran the 200m back to the hotel to get another pair of pants WHICH HAD ANOTHER HOLE! IN THE CROTCH! Now, one hole from jumping and flexing too much is one thing, but I hadn't even worn the second pair yet! They were brand new. And when I got them, they did not have any extra holes. Just the one in the top and the two in the bottom, like all good pants are supposed to have. So my only logical conclusion is that I have clothing gnomes out to get me. They sneak around at night when I'm asleep and tear tiny holes in the seams of my clothing in the most embarrassing spots. Gotta be gnomes.
Upon further thought, they are probably in league with my toilet, which is a sentient being that plays songs and has water features that try to touch my no-no bits. Great. So I'm surrounded by clothing gnomes and a molestering toilet. If my phone gets any ideas then I'm going to run away screaming.
As a closing thought;
I did some introspection on this weird thought process I've been having. I've come up with the source of the problem. I saw The Brave Little Toaster as a child. That sh*t'll f*ck you up.
WATCH, if you dare.