The Introspective Mika

Rainy days often bring out the introspective side of me, the inquisitive part that is in constant self-analysis about who I am, where I’m going and how I feel about certain things. So this morning has me thinking about the word “omote” (?), which means surface in Japanese. It is everything that you can see, touch, hear… anything engaging the senses on the surface. I couldn’t sleep because this concept was bothering me, forcing me to think about how I show up to others. I think many see this Mika as the fun-loving sexpot, with very little in the way of worries or concerns. And for some, this is the way I would like to be known or recognized. However, when it comes to men or a potential male in relationship with me, is that the best thing? Is this a false representation? I am often prone to moments of vulnerability, things I usually deal with on my own. Certainly, we all deal with our figurative demons. I long to share that with someone, to be able to be strong and vulnerable without judgments. It is asking too much, certainly, but it is what I want. These inner voices scrape at my brain, insistent on being heard, so I allow them to be expressed in my writing. My characters often have a sense of vulnerability to them and a desire for someone to hear them and to some extent, take care of them. As a female, it is an appealing prospect.

The crux of my thought is this: I don’t believe that the “sexpot” has any longevity or possibility of an honest relationship in the long term. It is all part of what makes me who I am, but it may not be a part that best serves me or adequately represent the part of me that is the majority. It is something I am struggling with today.

As usual, I have no answers, but it is my confession for today.

When Sex Goes Awry

Women don’t typically find themselves in sex relationships, so this post reaches out to a small segment if the population. When two people go into a situation like that with both eyes wide open, you both know that the timer is counting down to the eventual boom of implosion (or in some cases, explosion).

So why do we waste time with things that we are certain will end? We want a connection and are willing to take the eventual hurt, pain or in some cases, ambivalence, to have it.

We do it all the time though: staying in dead end jobs or relationships, remaining friends with individuals that do nothing but take advantage. There is a draw in that interaction that has us holding on for dear life and unwilling to let go or change. The premise is the same: change is difficult. What incentive is there to change things if there is nothing to change TO? It is a fair question. I don’t pretend to know the answers, only to verbalize the questions. What is funny though is that no matter how hard you try, change has a way of sneaking up on you and saying, “Ha! Gotcha, bitch!” Doesn’t it?

With that sexual relationship, it comes as no surprise that the reality crashes in and forces your hand. It could be any number of things that makes an all sex relationship go awry: lack of interest, too much interest, new love interest (one they really have emotions for)… but in your mind, you have to be ready for these many scenarios.

I make no qualms about it; my heart isn’t into love at all – this had been a rough road for me -  but it is easy to care for and about someone and have that sensibility screw up the dynamic between you and your lover. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Should you not care? You could, but that makes for really unfulfilling sex. I mean, hell, if you are gonna do it, at least it should be pleasurable.  But you can never give too much of yourself. The stopper must be at hand at all times. A world of hurt awaits otherwise.

Is it any wonder why I like reading and writing romance so much? Ideal love gives me hope, so while I wait…

Rainy Days Mean Writing Time

It’s my 2nd day in Tokyo technically and after sleeping all night to recover from the jet lag, I find myself ready to go… and a torrential downpour is going outside. Initially I had plans to do a little roaming, stop in Ginza for a bit, but this was always gonna be the down day. So instead, I’m going to have my friend buy me a mini umbrella and I’m gonna stay in and write all day. We did some grocery shopping last night, the French girl’s special I like to call it: red wine, a French baguette, cheese and fruit. Oh, and salami. If that’s not lap of luxury in your house, I don’t know what would qualify short of an on-call Swedish masseuse and a vat of caviar.

What I can also do is plan out this fete for the weekend and let everyone know to come out. Chill all day, party all weekend… that’s fair to me.

I met these cool guys on the plane ride over, and it made me realize how effortless speaking to folks can be. I’m a little shy – bizarre, I know – and it actually takes a conscious effort on my part to be really social. I think coming from the “I don’t care what you think about me” camp helps considerably. I’m not out to hook up with anyone per se, but just more interested in meeting as many people as possible. I’m out to expand my network and that will only happen if I put myself out there. So Tokyo is ideal for this experiment.

But for today, it’s writing time. When in Tokyo, write “Tokyo Shorts”, that’s my thought. And so, let’s begin!

Tags | TokyoShorts

Afterthought

When the sweat has stopped dripping from your body and the burning sensation of liquor in your stomach has passed, what goes on in that mind of yours? After the long fuck session has ended and we are left to gaze at each other in the aftermath, will you still view me the same way? The scent of sex is fresh in the air and already your mind is onto other things, other places. My body, still tight with expectation, wants release in all the ways that matter – not just body-rocking orgasms, but the mental orgasm that keeps me coming back for more… that keeps you coming back for more. We wouldn’t be here in this place right now, doing this again and again if we were just afterthoughts to each other. You wouldn’t kiss me with those sensual lips in that loving sort of way, and you certainly wouldn’t cuddle with me to share our mutual warmth. Your body speaks louder than any words could pass from your lips and belie anything you would publicly deny. This is no afterthought. I’ll be sure to remind you of that next time.

Tags | afterglow