Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #876
I didn't have another dream with you, and I'm a little sad about it. Nonetheless, once again, I woke up feeling relatively groggy; I got to bed a little later than I should have. I got dressed and ready, and... since M's car is out of commission right now (broken suspension spring, and the appointment to get it fixed isn't until next week...), J brought me to the meeting at the house I serve, and that was supposed to take place at 9:40 this morning.
I was hoping to be able to attend at least the first 20 minutes. But as I got in and spoke to the house manager (who will be staying instead of being replaced, thank goodness; I'm guessing the family of the person who was hospitalized made a big stink about it to upper management), he informed me that although he said that the meeting was 9:40, he said it because he expected everyone else to be at least 20 minutes late, and that the meeting would actually begin at around 10am.
I couldn't wait that long; J and I were supposed to help our dear friend V to get to a doctor's appointment. And... this wouldn't have been an issue if the house manager hadn't dropped the knowledge of this meeting upon us the day before he decided it would occur, but... well... he dropped it on us the day before.
There were topics I wanted to discuss, though; like I said in a previous letter, there's a bit of a preventable medical trouble that everyone in the house is dealing with, that they shouldn't have to deal with, but nonetheless, here we are, because the nurse doesn't take concerns seriously. So I wrote my concern on some paper, as well as what needed to be done to fix it, given J's experience with the same concern, which we got resolved without too much issue. I gave the paper to the house manager, and I trusted him to bring it up. I'll verify on Saturday whether or not he did, and what the results were.
Afterwards, I went back to the car, and J and I picked up V and brought them to their doctor's appointment. The appointment took a little while though, and J and I were hungry, so we went to a nearby pizza place...
J ate his while we were in the car. I saved mine for later, when we got home. Before long, V's appointment was all done, and M had asked us to get him some snacks from his favorite place, so we went there after we brought V back to their house. M got his usual thing. I got a newly-created menu item – a chicken cordon bleu wrap. And some jalapeño poppers to split.
...I ate one slice of pizza, half the wrap, and half the poppers. But I was still hungry after that, so... I decided to try some of the other snacks we got from that “Ebisu” place, starting with these, per J's suggestion:
I did... kinda...? taste the “scallop” flavor...? I think...? But... I was very surprised that it was mostly just... reminiscent of the barbecue-sauce-flavored potato chips that are already common in my country, and J concurred with that assessment. I was a little disappointed by it, but... I'm still glad to have tried it.
I decided to try some of the candies we got after that:
This is the sake-flavored KitKat:
...It tasted mostly like white chocolate, with a very subtle underlying warmth. It's not bad.
The plum wine KitKat wasn't much different, though it had a bit of a fruity warmth to its white chocolate:
...Again, it's certainly not bad.
KitKats are popular in Japan because over there, the name sounds kinda like “kitto katsu”, so people use them as good luck charms before taking tests and whatnot. I'm not really sure how that came about exactly, but I imagine that's why there are so many different flavors of KitKat over there, whereas all we get where I live is variants on chocolate.
...That said... I think most “normal” white people here would turn their noses up at sakura-flavored, wine-flavored, or even something as simple as strawberry-flavored KitKats. People where I live tend to have an extremely narrow definition of what's “normal”, to the point where some of them feel dirty for even just having curiosity about anything that exists outside of that definition. It's very bizarre.
...Well. More for me I guess. They can look at me with disgust for trying “unconventional” things all they like; this has happened before on multiple occasions, because I was raised by the kinds of people who think that even being willing to try something like scallop-flavored potato chips makes a person inherently disgusting and unlikable. But they're allowed to be wrong. And whether I enjoy the new thing I tried or not, I still made a new memory from a new experience, so I still win. Wahaha!!
Here, this is the chocolate with the purple, grape-flavored goop inside! It's pretty freaking good!
Admittedly, the combination of chocolate and grape flavors didn't work out quite as nicely for my sensory hardware as I would have hoped. It wasn't bad per se, but the sweet-and-sour flavor of the grape, I thought, clashed a bit too much with the rich chocolate. I dislike the pairing of chocolate with orange flavor for similar reasons. But this kind of flavor combination works well for some people! Maybe I just gotta get used to it.
All the same, I liked the chocolate with the milk tea goop a little better:
...I wonder what you'd think of all these...
I tried the konjac jellies next. These are made of konjac roots, and it has a texture similar to gelatin, but much, much more firm. They come in various flavors – in this case, grape, peach, and strawberry cream latte:
Here's what it looks like if you fully open the packet and take the jelly out, without squishing it out of the opening; it's very firm stuff! Kinda... chewy? But also maybe slightly... crunchy? Definitely bouncy. Reminiscent of crystal boba, but not quite that firm.
...It felt kind of weird in my hands, hahaha! And the flavor is very subtle. But... it's good stuff. I could probably eat a lot of this in one sitting, truth be told. But I've heard that it can upset your stomach if you do that, since it's got so much soluble fiber. Ah well.
I played a very little bit of Pokopia afterwards. Not much, mind. But enough for “you” to meet this rather interesting character, who seems very enamored with their own butt:
I pressed the button too quickly to take a picture of the next part of the conversation, which is really sad, because it went like this; you'll have to click the link:
I laughed so hard. It was so good, oh my goodness~! Ahahaha!
Well. “You” decided to stick Volbeat into Illumise's house. Now they can look at each other's butts all day, if they want to. Whatever floats their happy little boats.
...I get so surprised, sometimes, that their comfort levels are “awesome”, with so little furniture...
In any case, I breathed life into today's wishes shortly after that, and... my focus for it was shit again today, too. These took me forever to do, and... I'm not really sure why.
J, who was in a bit of a state, himself, saw that I hadn't moved very much today, and decided to take me out on a walk not too long afterwards. Of course, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to get more pictures for you along the way:
Throughout the day, surprisingly... my brother texted me. I guess... to come out to me about various things regarding certain preferences and needs he has. I won't speak specifically on it here, because he asked me not to. But... even after so much time of no contact, he... still looked to me... almost for... permission...? to claim the labels he decided are correct for him to claim. I was still the first and only person he told. And that feels... like something I need to honor seriously.
We ended up in a very deep philosophical discussion about labels, and about how society forces people of certain physical compositions to adhere strictly to specific rules about what they're allowed to feel, think, say, do, or want. Labels can be helpful and liberating, when they're left open and permeable. Labels are constricting and destructive when they're rigid. “Man”, for example, is a fine label if that feels correct for a person to claim. It's constricting when people use the label weirdly to mean “Men should only do this thing or that thing or think and feel only these certain things, and...” on and on and on. And this is true of any label, be it “woman”, “non-binary”, “straight”, “gay”, “aro/ace”, “demi”, “pan”, and so many more.
...He doesn't need my permission to claim what he wants to claim. If he claims something and then does something that society thinks is outside of that label, it's not that he no longer belongs to that group, but rather, he has expanded the definition of what that group's condition is. And I tried to explain this to him, and... I think he understood. I have a lot of labels, too, though different ones than he does. “Demi”, “pan”, and “non-binary” work well for me, at least for now. And maybe these will change later as I discover more about myself and what does and does not work for me. And that's the other thing I tried to explain, too – we grow and we change, and sometimes labels that were correct and good before aren't correct and good later. It doesn't mean we were wrong at the time. It just means that we have to change them when we see fit.
My brother... has made a lot of not-so-great choices in the throes of dealing with the aftermath of growing up in a family like ours. He has made very questionable decisions about what kinds of substances he should put in his body, about social connections, about activities done with said social connections, but... a lot of those things were the result of a highly intelligent and extremely sensitive man trying to fit neatly into the boxes society and our family have been trying to shove him into, against his will. He's been seen as and called “stupid” by our mother, father, and stepmother and everyone else connected with them for so long that by now, he believes it.
...And yet. He can keep up in conversation with me easily, even when we're talking at length about abstract concepts that he's not exactly familiar with.
…
...As I understand it, he's trying hard to climb up out of the proverbial family “Kool-Aid” well. In his spare time, he's been exploring things like attachment theory and therapy-type-things, and trying to get his head on straight so that he can be a better father to his son than our father was to us, and... I think that's laudable. He's using a lot of the same language that I learned during my own messy journey towards recovery, and... conversation indicates that he's a lot better now at holding other perspectives and acknowledging others' emotions than he was when last I spoke with him.
It's still the case that he's dealing with a lot. Trying to raise a boy with not enough money and a very hostile choice of reproductive partner. I still don't know the details of why everything fell apart between them. But he's going to visit me tomorrow, and presumably, he'll tell me then. I will try to listen and help. And maybe we go get snacks afterwards. An might visit, too; he and An have a lot in common, so maybe they'll get along well.
...I hope I get to have him back in my life, at least a little, in ways that aren't destructive to us both.
Well. It's getting late. And I ought to shower my stanky ass. So I guess I'll go do that. And then I'll go to bed, hopefully relatively on time this time.
...I wonder what tomorrow will bring...
…
I love you so much. And... I hope it shows in how I try to treat people in the way that I'd treat you if you were here. As long as there's no hostility or manipulation, I will try to listen and help. And even if there is hostility and manipulation, I will try to hold a conversation to get to the bottom of it. All friction points to solvable problems, and if everyone comes to the table in good faith, those problems can be solved.
And you... I'm certain that you're a person who comes to the table in good faith.
I'll keep hoping for any news about you. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep having faith that you'll be safe. I'll keep having faith in who you are and in the choices you make. I'll keep having faith that someday, you'll return home.
I'll write again soon.
Your friend, Lumine
