I’ve posted about the “She Woke Up Different” meme before.
But it’s an offshoot of a book, “She Came Back Different.”
If I remember it correctly, the protagonist goes into ballet school and all its strict conformity.
Well, when it comes to Japan, I keep telling everyone that I came back different.
* It’s not that I checked into a Buddhist temple and discovered The Way.
* There was no “Eat Pray Love” experience that made me want to write a book about it.
* Honestly, other than loving DisneySea and the polite people everywhere, I didn’t get a lot out of the trip culturally.
But what I did get was this:
1. First-class travel treatment. Even at mid-tier hotels and air carriers. And you should see how neatly the luggage is stacked on carousels — with the handles right where you can easily grab them.
2. Courtesy, service and grace, without tipping in hopes of getting it. If you so much as looked momentarily overwhelmed or confused, someone was at your side to see what they can do for you.
3. Near-silence on transit and in stores. Plenty of time to think and appreciate what was around me. You can walk around, say, a temple without someone ruining your photo or your inner peace.
4. The politest people on earth. Children too! In fact, the only time you heard loud people or anyone be rude, they were white.
The fam and I were in Triton’s Kingdom, an underground play area in Disney Sea. We let the cute 2 year old go at her own pace.
Well I had a pair of adorable 5 year olds behind me. Who very patiently waited their turn till my whole family did the rope bridges at the kiddo’s pace.
Like, didn’t run us over, didn’t complain, didn’t do anything but enjoy their turn.
5. Few work distractions. Which you know I love my job. But my people HANDLED IT.
As usual, the only person who flat-out ignored my “I’m away” message was old Don’t Treadmill On Me.
Like, I would swear to Buddha that they wait for me to be “out-out.” But I know it’s just tone-deafness and self-centeredness.
But the joy of being 13 hours ahead? I may be asleep when you’re running your treadmill mouth. And even though I wasn’t, nobody had to know that. Bliss.
So what’s the whole she came back different?
I saw something out there.
Not that my Japanese is all that passable.
But it said something like, “How many times are you going to have the same conversations before you change them?”
I just about died dead.
My entire life is the same shit different day.
Usually when it comes to Don’t Treadmill on Me. And the copywriters.
Like, you can promise 20 trades today (as they did).
And the editor will not only say no trades today (as they did).
But I will ghostwrite you a goddamn issue that is so spectacular, you won’t even notice there are no trades in it (as I did).
You know why I can do that? Because I do it multiple times a year.
Same with product launches. No one sees fit to involve me till the promo has been shot. So I build a beautiful product that’s as close as it can get to their vision, while still being rooted in reality.
I don’t mind. It’s what I do. I make more magic than Disney, FFS.
There are just people I don’t mind doing it for. And others I very much mind doing it for.
Like Ready Tready, who ruined my California Adventure by dumping some needy people on me who are not on the payroll.
I actually really like them. But jesus FUCK are they needy.
Well, they also reached out to me in Japan. Which I ignored, because all they ever want to do is talk on the phone. And I was 15 hours ahead of them, mercifully.
They called 11 times yesterday. And that’s when the jet lag finally hit and I was barely making it through.
Call is understating it. It’s a trifecta:
* They leave me a voicemail.
* They text seconds later to tell me to check voicemail.
* Then immediately email to tell me to check my texts.
Those of you who wonder why I don’t check my phone, see above.
I finally emailed back today like WHAT, GOD.
The email back, “Oh nothing urgent. We made xx sales with that link you sent out.”
Great, nothing urgent.
But then the trifecta occurred again an hour later.
JESUS FUCK.
How is this different from pre-Japan? It isn’t.
But it needs to be.
Look, I overeat, stress-eat, binge-eat and did I say eat? I eat. A lot. I need to change that.
But you know what makes me do that?
The phone ringing off the wall. The “well, I know Copy promised the readers this but I don’t wanna” so I do the thing. The “O” face on the treadmill huffing at my utter inability to translate word salad or simply mind-read. The dark apartment. The stinky cats. The asshole HOA. The broken toilet.
The fact that all I wanted was a damn break from caregiving, not to lose my mom entirely.
I want the duck-kicker and Trump to just fucking die already. And Erika Kirk. JFC I liked my life so much better before I knew that twat existed.
And I’m tired of hurting myself to keep from hurting (verbally or otherwise) others who could use a foot up their ass.
I don’t know what changes. But the conversations are a good place to start.
Especially the ones with myself.