The Radiant Paradox

Last night was quite, quite odd.

Many things happened that, when I look back at it, was actually quite full-on, but I didn’t seem phased even in the slightest.

I headed out to one of the local raceways to view one of my clients racing his drift car around. He recently came back from Japan, and he brought someone with him.

A little Japanese bloke by the name of Kazuya “Chunky” Bai, one of Japan’s most talented and lauded drift racers.

Despite having seen him on numerous DVD’s, surveyed his ability, and watched it first hand, all I felt whilst trying to communicate with him was of relative nonchalance. Not the euphoria of meeting what some would consider an “idol”.

It probably didn’t help that my brain was racking itself, casting back to the Japanese lessons I had, and wondering why the fuck I didn’t pay more attention.

I even went for a ride in one of the drift cars. Even travelling at 120 kph in a sideways direction left me feeling relatively, “meh”. Oh don’t get me wrong, I was still shitting myself, but once emerging from the cabin, I didn’t feel the bite, the undying desire to get behind the wheel myself and make an arse of myself.

Yes, I can do that anytime, and without a car… but that’s so not the point.

As opposed to that depressing vitriol I vomited out the other day, my mood seems to have balanced.

I move out of my house on Saturday, and therefore I can finally move on with my life. I don’t have to tolerate intolerable people. If I feel like doing something; like travelling, staying out until the small hours, buying my own death machine (ie car)… I can.

But then I feel as though there’s more. It’s like a haze of tranquillity that finally seems to be settling over me. The friends I spend time with, the clients (although few) I write for, the dull nine-to-fiver I trudge through every day… even the intangible people I don’t know personally…

I feel I’m needed. For whatever reason… it doesn’t matter. It’s weird, in a way, because to feel needed, but then only feel accountable to yourself seems at odds. In fact… it is at odds, and I’m really going insane. But don’t tell anyone, okay?

I have read, re-read and brushed over the posts from the past few months, and I’ve noticed a really, really… really, weird pattern of mood swings, emotional outbursts, laughter and good times, and I think I can form a pretty good conclusions as to what’s going on with me.

I must be pregnant.

Disclaimer: No, I am not claiming that I know what it is like to be pregnant. No, this mere male is not trying to steal the sacred female period of blissful gestation. No, I realise that I simply cannot even hope to comprehend even the slightest piece of the paradoxical radiant turmoil that constitutes being pregnant. Please don’t bother to point that out to me.