I Miss My Crazy Family.

I love you Dryburgh Royals.
I miss you more than I care to admit.

Sunday Morning

Can someone please explain to me the difference between "making love" and "slow Sunday morning fucking" because apparently I have had both this morning and I only know this because he pointed it out to me.
I've learnt that when I'm getting rammed really hard from behind, that's just fucking. So I figured if it was slow sex then the chances of it being "making love" were much higher.
But I don't feel any sort of emotion when I have sex, other than bliss and hopefully an orgasm. Am I supposed to be moved to tears with an overwhelming feeling of love? I don't feel love in sex. That's not why I have sex.
So can someone please clue me into this whole "making love" nonsense? I just don't get it.

The Bitch is Back

Made it safe and sound back to Chiang Mai.
*Insert angel chorus here*

May I just state for the record that I really, seriously, desperately, hate flying.
Whenever I tell people this, they automatically assume that I am afraid of heights or afraid of crashing. I have no fear. I mean really, I feel like dying in an airplane crash would be creeping towards the top of my "best way to go" list. It's dramatic, adrenaline filled, and a hell of a day for the coroner.
I fucking hate flying because I am stuck next to fuckwits for hours on end with no other source of entertainment.
The first flight from Sapporo was pretty empty, so I managed to avoid the awkward neighbours drooling on my shoulder by stealing myself a solo row. My flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai... Not so much.
As we took off from the runway I saw the man sitting in the row beside me (we were both in aisle seats) start to shake. I dismissed this as a simple first time flier and figured as soon as we were comfortably in the air he would calm down. I was wrong. Oh lord I was so wrong.
Before the seat belt sign was off, there was vomit. So so much vomit. He was shaking and spraying as the rest of the passengers scrambled to rip open their own vomit bags and pass them down in some sort of vain attempt to salvage the mess that was already made. A few of us needed to use the bags ourselves, because the best way to induce vomiting in a healthy person is making them watch someone else vomit.
Now I do feel sorry for the guy, despite ruining a few hours of my life and leaving me with some sort of PTSD, at the same time there needs to be recognition for this man. Non stop projectile vomiting for over an hour!? How does one even have that much inside their stomach to achieve this fete?
Colour me impressed, and colour me traumatised.
All in all though, I'm just happy to be back in my warm Chiang Mai.

Airport Thoughts.

I'm sitting in the airport, waiting for them to call for boarding, and all the flight crew are just chilling in the lounge with us.
I don't know why it is so uncomfortable to see a pilot chilling. All like "Hey I'm about to hold your life in in my hands and I maneuver a giant metal tube through the sky, but first let me take a selfie."
Yeaaaah.

Return Warranty on Children?

May have chosen to go see Ash three days early, rather than spend time with my parents.
I'm a pretty shit excuse for a daughter.
Is there some sort of 20 year return warranty?

Mindless Mumbling

I come home to you. 

The best friend I have ever known.

You sit in the dark, on your pedestal

Just waiting. Just waiting.

Warm me up with my devotion

Feel inside me with your sweet and bitterness

The world matters no more.

You are mine, I regret that I am yours.

Forget, forget, never forgive

But tonight we will forget.

Celebrations and pain

It doesn’t matter which one.

Fill me up. 

Control me.

Become me.

I will taste you on my lips

Tingle in my fingers

Vision blurs

Heart thumping

Numb

Oh sweet sweet nectar 

Saturate my throat

Never let others know

Dizzy 

Spinning

Goodnight my friend

I will regret you in the harshness of the sun

But tonight we lived.

Somewhat Grateful?

3 more days until this Japan trip is over.

I know I've been a bitch about the whole thing, but despite the lack of emotional connections with the land and with the people, I do feel like I have enjoyed my time here. Yeah I want to go back home. Yeah I want to see Ash. Yeah I want to get on top of my job hunting. But it's been nice being in such a different environment. I haven't had a single drink since I've been here. I haven't smoked any weed. I haven't done anything wild or crazy. All I've done is read my book, bake desserts, talk, and walk. And you know what? It's been fabulous. My holiday from my holiday has been just the thing I needed to give me a pick me up. 

Japan Hath Failed Me

Japan is amazing with its crazy machines and robots. Who doesn't love a self-flushing toilet with a heated seat? And vending machines for beer in the hotel lobby, um yes please. But I swear to god, if I don't find a cafe that makes coffee from an actual espresso machine I will kill someone. Putting a cup in a holder and pressing a button for a latte is not worth $4 or the destruction of my tastebuds. ChiangMai, you're still shit, but please take me back.

Mother Fucking Ashleigh

So few posts, so much mush of emotions. So hey, why not one more.

I'm going to talk about Ash. God damn, mother fucking Ashleigh.

Here's the deal. I miss him. I fucking miss the guy. It's only been 5 days away from the bastard, yet I think he is the number one topic of conversation since I left.

So I'm scared shitless. He's from a broken home so I know I am supposed to be stable and show him that I am not going to randomly leave, but I am fighting this urge to cut all ties out of complete fear. How on earth do I rationalise this fear? Oh hey, there is this guy who understands you, respects you, and treats you like an equal. Bitch, run for your life. I mean surely there is something wrong with someone who wants me right?

I'm fat, ugly, dumb, sadistic, sarcastic, needy, and the list goes on and on.

I told him "I think I might maybe love you." and then that night I mentally went through my checklist of how many steps it would take to break all ties with him. I want him. I want to run away from him. All I know is everything comes back to him.

I'm not ready for this. I didn't plan on this. My "self discovery" trip to Thailand was only meant to be a quick three month trip. Time out of my life. Time away from emotional connections with people. Time for just me.

Two fucking weeks in, I met this kid. Charming, charismatic, and just as bitter as me. I tried to keep it casual, I tried not to feel. This is normally my fucking expertise. I am brilliant at not getting attached to people. It's normally a very conscious choice for me. I remember the exact moment I saw Ash one day and melted. All I knew was from that point on I needed him with me. I needed him in my life. I needed to be his, and he needed to be mine.

Now old independent me is trying to plan my life around someone else. I still have dreams. My ambitions haven't changed. I just need him there with me. And that knowledge itself is enough to make me pack my bags and never look back. I think I might, maybe love him.

Emotionless Bitch Update

Day 4 in Japan and I find myself in a weird emotional spot.
I kind of desperately want to go home. I mean come on. I'm 20 years old and in fucking Japan for a holiday from my current extended holiday in Thailand. I should be kissing the very ground I walk on. Broke ass me is seeing the world.
Yet I just can't seem to feel any emotion about this trip. I'm still mentally calling my sister-in-law "foetus carrier" and I feel no emotional connection with my brother. It's awesome seeing him and all, but to be brutally honest I don't miss him when he's not around. I don't miss anyone when they are not around.
I just hate the whole waiting for a trip to end feeling. It's considered normal to have all sorts of emotions when it comes to family and traveling, but I don't feel anything. I won't miss them when I am gone. That makes me a horrible person I know, but it's the truth. I love them, but I won't miss them.
Anywho, 5 more days of couch surfing here until I go back to my usual life of couch surfing.

Different Continent, Same Problem

It’s dark, I’m hungry, fetus carrier is taking a nap. 

I could go walk and grab some food, but she will be up soon enough and want to go get dinner. Of course I will be too embarrassed to say that I have eaten already, and will inevitably go out for a second dinner with her. Maybe I should learn some fucking self control. Hmm, probably a good idea.

Oh well, squats time I guess.

Fatty out.

Japan

Ah hello there Japan. Long time no see. 

It’s been two years since you popped my cherry and now here we are, embraced in your frosty finger tips.

Last time I was here was different, to say the least. The first of the Perry siblings getting hitched. All of the clan gathered in this strange country to try and celebrate with strangers. Yeah. That was a weird experience. 

I remember getting shit faced drunk around my super religious family. Ah good times. Nothing quite like seeing bitter dissapointment slapped across your parents face. 

Now I’m here to see my pregnant sister-in-law, and my niece or nephew fetus. I’m only here for ten days, so hopefully I don’t step on too many toes, but I am Lizzy. So yeah, I wouldn’t count on it. 

On a shitty note for this trip, I don’t have a fucking phone or a camera. So no photos unfortunatly. If I am lucky I might be able to steal some off these tec savy kids. I think I had been in the country for maybe three minutes before selfies had to be taken. I’ll never quite understand that. I feel like I missed some sort of selfie class or something.

It’s really hard to watch what I eat here. Even the 7/11 has such amazing food. I’m going to try and walk a lot to counteract some of the damage, but I think there will be some serious restricting in order when I get back to ChiangMai. I already put those wheels into motion before coming here by having a chat with mother dearest about how I was struggling with binging, and wanting to go on a meal plan when I get back. I find it so much easier to lose weight when I am on my parents meal plans. They are hardly ever in town, so they don’t even know what I eat. The basic rule of thumb is to half their pre planned portion sizes, and then purge up the rest. Normally works pretty well for me. I know, I know, I am unhealthy as fuck. But I’d rather die young and thin, than old and fat.