Then and Now 40 - Blood Lost
Time: Mid-2007, single and at the hostel.
One night, I was walking around the train station, enjoying the sights of a couple of stores and taking a nice walk. Near the end of my exploration, I came to a dead end. The ceiling was moderately high, and there were bright lights shining down on the floor, illuminating a fountain in the middle of the area, and a couple of businesses to my right. One of them had several people waiting in chairs outside, so I went to have a closer look at what was going on there.
It was a blood donation center. It had been around a month since I last donated and talked with the biker at my bud's aunt's place in Then and Now 29, so I knew it was about time to do my part again. I went in and got a few interested looks from the nurses there; apparently, they didn't get too many foreigners looking to help out the locals.
They tried to speak to me in broken English, but I switched our conversation to the local language, and peppered it with simple words when I couldn't find the vocabulary I was looking for. I told them that I wanted to donate, and they brought out a registration form that was written in odd English. I answered most of the questions well enough by checking "No" on all the boxes that asked if you were a leper, until I came to a question with confusing grammar. It was something like, "You haven't had gonorrhea, haven't you?"
I answered "No" because every other question had the same answer. But when the ladies got the paper back, one looked at me strangely. The other one smirked, circled the words "haven't you?" and asked in the local language if I had the disease. After I assured her that I didn't, she corrected the paper to say "Yes." We had a laugh, then I went to the next step of having my blood tested. Not only did they go for the blood in my finger, one of the most horrible places to get stuck with a needle, but they chose the ring finger on my left hand, one of the most sensitive spots on my body. I can still feel the pain as I type this. Shortly after, I climbed on one of the recliners, watched local TV while they took a bag or two, then got my cookies and juice. I thanked the ladies, then was on my way.
I walked a little back from the dead end and found some stairs leading out of the shopping area I was in, and followed them up and out of the station, into the dark night. I came out on a busy street with the station at my back, and a row of local stores in front of me. One of them was a convenience store with a beautiful girl working the counter, and another was a toy store run by a middle-aged man, still open at that hour. I waved hello to both of them, then headed down the street to see what else I could see.
As I walked down the road and past an interminable number of stores, the hour grew later and later. Soon enough, when I had left the vicinity of the station, the cars on the road had long disappeared, there were no lights in any stores, and I was navigating by the lonesome glimmer of streetlights. I came to a sleepy part of town where several darkened stores sat on either side of the road, with trees placed at even intervals on the sidewalks in front of them. I saw a local or two pass by on the other side of the street, but otherwise, I was all alone on that peaceful night.
As time drew on, I realized I was lost, and I didn't know the city well enough to gauge where the hostel was. I was also on a tight budget, so I really didn't want to hop a taxi or a bus to get back to where I was going. Using standard guesswork by deducing where the train station was, and where I knew the hostel was in relation to it, I picked a good direction to walk in until I could see something familiar. I turned right on one of the roads and walked up it until I came to the edge of an unfamiliar river. There weren't any bridges in sight to the east or west, so I started to feel even more confused about where I was.
The road in front of the river was a T. Behind me was the main street, and the T turned left and ran next to the river to pass by a gas station and some dark houses. On the right, I came across a good sight: it was a park, dimly lit by a single light. There was a slide, a swingset, and a jungle gym, all standing in shadow. I thought it was some kind of hidden underground army base, maybe because of the way the light glinted off the metal, or maybe because I was flashing back to that great night on the mountain in Then and Now 6.
Eventually, after taking a left on the road then walking northeast for as long as I could, I eventually came across a familiar street and found my way back to the hostel. It was completely quiet when I got back, nobody in sight. Ken was out, and May had already moved out, so I tiptoed down the hall to the guys' dorm and carefully opened my squeaky locker to get my toiletries, hoping I wouldn't wake up the one or two guys in there who were sleeping. A quick shower later, I hit the hay.
As for today...
I woke up at 8:30.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I drove to another school.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home to an empty house.
I played video games.
I prepared teaching lessons.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I did the dishes.
I showered my son.
I slept.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Then and Now 39 - Art Expo
Then and Now 39 - Art Expo
Time: Late 2007, single and at my apartment.
One day while wandering through the main city, I called up Tina to see if she wanted to hang out, and she did. In no time, I met up with her at a very busy intersection, a series of wide and tightly twisting roads with cars in every direction.
I had picked up a flier a little before, saying there was going to be an art expo for a few days, and it was somewhere in the area. I asked Tina if she wanted to go and see it, and she smiled and nodded without a word. Thanks to her, we found the place just a few minutes later: it was at a community center just a few blocks away. It was a very hot day that day, and by the time the two of us reached the center, we were both sweating like mad. I asked if she was doing all right, and she assured me she was ok.
We entered the center, and came into a massive hall that was several dozen feet high, with lights all over the ceiling. In front of us was a man directing people into a hallway in the back, where the expo was being held. I asked if I needed to buy two tickets, but he said it was free. Tina and I went in, and it was quite a bit darker inside. Some of the displays needed some soft light, but most of them were in little rooms to the sides and illuminated by a single light; the spaces between the art pieces were completely dark.
Just a few seconds after we entered, I saw a foreign girl talking with some locals in English. I saw the locals nodding at the woman as I began to walk past. When I drew closer, I heard the foreign girl proudly state, without a hint of self-awareness, "Yes. Art can look like anything." I stifled a snort.
Tina and I soon came to our first display on the left: it was a room with clear walls and a single entrance, filled to the waist with soft pillows. She went a little closer to read the instructions, and told me that we were encouraged to jump in and relax on the pillows for a while. I really wanted to, but I was so drenched with sweat that I didn't want to make the experience uncomfortable for whoever went after me, so I refrained. I asked Tina if she wanted to, but she didn't for the same reason.
The next exhibit was a wall completely covered in darkness, and some locals were scribbling on the side with some special pens, some kind of highlighter that could only be seen with a blacklight. Some of the people on the wall drew random circles and lines, some wrote "I love you" or other such things in the local language, and others doodled pictures of people or animals. The local man in charge of the exhibit saw me looking at the wall, said, "Do you want to write something?" in localspeak, and offered me a pen. I said sure, and Tina and I went up.
I drew a cartoon duck giving a thumbs up, and wrote "(This country) is number one!" I stepped back, then offered the pen to Tina, asking her if my writing was ok. She made a couple of adjustments, and a few seconds later, our message was complete. The man laughed and thanked us, then I gave the pen back, and Tina and I moved on.
There wasn't much else of interest that I remember, so I talked with Tina about how her college life was going as we went out of the art show. She was still pretty shy and evasive so I didn't get much out of her, but she seemed to be doing all right. When we got outside, the hot air blasted into us again like a sack of hammers, so I took Tina to a shop to get us some smoothies. We talked for a while about what we had seen, missing out on the pillow jump, and some fun things going on with her and her friends. A short while later, we got up and parted outside so she could go home and study, and I could go home to prepare for work the next day.
That night, I got an email from her. She apologized to me for not talking so much, and said she would try her best to speak up more the next time we hung out. I quickly replied, telling her that it was ok and I had fun hanging out with her, and I would see her soon enough. The next time we met up, she was quite a bit more talkative. But I'll save that story for another Then & Now.
As for today...
I woke up at 6:00.
I played video games.
I went to work by train, and played video games on the way.
I taught students.
I came home by train, and played video games on the way.
I ate lunch.
I hung up wet laundry.
I surfed the net.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I came home.
I ate dinner.
I started a load of laundry.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I watched internet movies with my son.
I hung up wet laundry.
I slept.
Time: Late 2007, single and at my apartment.
One day while wandering through the main city, I called up Tina to see if she wanted to hang out, and she did. In no time, I met up with her at a very busy intersection, a series of wide and tightly twisting roads with cars in every direction.
I had picked up a flier a little before, saying there was going to be an art expo for a few days, and it was somewhere in the area. I asked Tina if she wanted to go and see it, and she smiled and nodded without a word. Thanks to her, we found the place just a few minutes later: it was at a community center just a few blocks away. It was a very hot day that day, and by the time the two of us reached the center, we were both sweating like mad. I asked if she was doing all right, and she assured me she was ok.
We entered the center, and came into a massive hall that was several dozen feet high, with lights all over the ceiling. In front of us was a man directing people into a hallway in the back, where the expo was being held. I asked if I needed to buy two tickets, but he said it was free. Tina and I went in, and it was quite a bit darker inside. Some of the displays needed some soft light, but most of them were in little rooms to the sides and illuminated by a single light; the spaces between the art pieces were completely dark.
Just a few seconds after we entered, I saw a foreign girl talking with some locals in English. I saw the locals nodding at the woman as I began to walk past. When I drew closer, I heard the foreign girl proudly state, without a hint of self-awareness, "Yes. Art can look like anything." I stifled a snort.
Tina and I soon came to our first display on the left: it was a room with clear walls and a single entrance, filled to the waist with soft pillows. She went a little closer to read the instructions, and told me that we were encouraged to jump in and relax on the pillows for a while. I really wanted to, but I was so drenched with sweat that I didn't want to make the experience uncomfortable for whoever went after me, so I refrained. I asked Tina if she wanted to, but she didn't for the same reason.
The next exhibit was a wall completely covered in darkness, and some locals were scribbling on the side with some special pens, some kind of highlighter that could only be seen with a blacklight. Some of the people on the wall drew random circles and lines, some wrote "I love you" or other such things in the local language, and others doodled pictures of people or animals. The local man in charge of the exhibit saw me looking at the wall, said, "Do you want to write something?" in localspeak, and offered me a pen. I said sure, and Tina and I went up.
I drew a cartoon duck giving a thumbs up, and wrote "(This country) is number one!" I stepped back, then offered the pen to Tina, asking her if my writing was ok. She made a couple of adjustments, and a few seconds later, our message was complete. The man laughed and thanked us, then I gave the pen back, and Tina and I moved on.
There wasn't much else of interest that I remember, so I talked with Tina about how her college life was going as we went out of the art show. She was still pretty shy and evasive so I didn't get much out of her, but she seemed to be doing all right. When we got outside, the hot air blasted into us again like a sack of hammers, so I took Tina to a shop to get us some smoothies. We talked for a while about what we had seen, missing out on the pillow jump, and some fun things going on with her and her friends. A short while later, we got up and parted outside so she could go home and study, and I could go home to prepare for work the next day.
That night, I got an email from her. She apologized to me for not talking so much, and said she would try her best to speak up more the next time we hung out. I quickly replied, telling her that it was ok and I had fun hanging out with her, and I would see her soon enough. The next time we met up, she was quite a bit more talkative. But I'll save that story for another Then & Now.
As for today...
I woke up at 6:00.
I played video games.
I went to work by train, and played video games on the way.
I taught students.
I came home by train, and played video games on the way.
I ate lunch.
I hung up wet laundry.
I surfed the net.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I came home.
I ate dinner.
I started a load of laundry.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I watched internet movies with my son.
I hung up wet laundry.
I slept.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Evolution
About a month ago, I went to the park with my son and met a foreigner there. We started talking about several topics, starting off with the local language. I wasn't surprised in the slightest that he has lived here for longer than I have, but his local language skills are around the level of a pre-schooler. Not coincidentally enough, his desire to learn the local language evaporated shortly after he met his girlfriend, who also doesn't know the language. His child is going to school in a year or two, so he seemed to be a bit worried about how the kid would do there without being able to communicate. So, I told him exactly what I did to learn the local language in three months. He seemed to take everything I said to heart, so I hoped he could take a few months to become semi-fluent, then teach his kid what he learned.
(UPDATE: He first planned on moving back to America next year at great financial cost, and taking a job that doesn't pay much, in an effort to avoid learning the local language for his child's sake. This didn't happen, and it turns out that his kid was sent away from the local school to be homeschooled because he can't speak with the teacher or other kids. I expected nothing less than this kind of laziness from a married person).
Later, after he saw how well-behaved my son was, we talked a little bit about child rearing and how we could both improve our styles, trying to find the middle ground between corporal punishment and "letting them do their thing."
Then, he turned the conversation to politics.
I stood there, politely maintaining eye contact and nodding as he went off on a half hour tirade filled with swearing, exaggerated hand waving and yelling about Walker this, unions that, Obama this, Republicans that. At one point, he referred to a long-time friend of his, who happened to be on the opposite side of the political spectrum, as a "f***in' idiot," before he walked the statement back and called him "ignorant."
Two days later, I was watching TV with my wife at our house, and my mother-in-law made a surprise visit. She started yelling at the two of us for not picking up her phone calls thirty minutes earlier, and barked that it was absolutely unacceptable behavior for two parents. "What if your son was sick or hurt?!" she bellowed. "He's going to school in a few months! How can you two be so selfish?!"
So what do these two incidents have to do with marriage? For that answer, I need to rewind to nearly the beginning of my life, and the things I overcame to become the man I was before I got married:
Racism
Until I was 6, and still living with my father, he taught me to hate. I still remember being 3 or 4 and telling my younger brother that I wished Martin Luther King Jr. were never born, so "the blacks would still be our slaves."
When my mother got custody of the two of us when I was 6, she taught us the filth of those beliefs, and neither one of us followed them again.
Selfishness and Egotism
From around age 6 to 14, I was a snot. I refused to let my friends play my video games, I yelled at them when they made mistakes, and I relentlessly teased and insulted them because I thought it was funny.
When I turned 14 and my depression hit, I knew that I wasn't a good person. To fix that, I (erroneously) thought that there were only two ways I could deal with my depression: turn it outwards and become a bully, or turn it inwards and beat myself up for everything. I did the latter, and stopped hurting others as much as I could.
Depression
From around 14 to 21, I was a depressed and suicidal ball of self-loathing. I never did anything to improve my life, and blamed everyone except myself for not getting better.
When I turned 21, answering "Yes" to Leena's question, "Do you want to get better?" set me on the path to healing, and I never gave up forgiving those who hurt me, severing poisonous relationships and following my dreams until my depression was eradicated around the time I was 23 or so.
Religious Tribalism
When I was around 14 or 15, I rebelled against my non-practicing Baptist mother by becoming a hardcore Atheist. I blamed God for not helping me when I was in pain, internally screamed at the heavens for not doing something to support me, and got into arguments about how people were stupid to have faith.
From 17 to 23, I studied several faiths to find some peace with religion, and using the ideas they shared, was able to take bits and pieces here and there to form the tools I needed to crush my depression later. They also helped me to form my spiritual beliefs of today, and I now have nothing but respect for people who practice other faiths, or none at all.
Political Tribalism
Around 17, I became a hardcore Progressive, so I could blame the powerful for being corrupt and leaving scraps behind for the "downtrodden" like me. Around 21 or 22, after I started the path to emotional recovery, I became a hardcore Libertarian so I could blame the poor, weak and unhappy for not improving like I was. Six or seven years passed in total, where I felt seething rage or snapped when I heard words like "Bush" or "socialist," hated faceless millions of people for their ideals, and lacked the emotional control to treat people I respected like friends, instead of mortal enemies, when I learned that what they believed differed from my ideas.
Around 24, I knew I was sick. So, I spent time on both sides of the political aisle simultaneously, and realized how much either side suppresses inconvenient stories, cherry picks data, spins or outright lies to push their agenda. I realized then that I could never trust anyone to give me the whole story when something went on in the world, so I stopping listening to all of it. After that, I not only became more focused on my goals in life, but found a new kind of peace where I stopped viewing half of the world as evil or stupid.
Obesity
From around 18 to 20, I was huge: 250 pounds of pure fat, no muscle to speak of. It was painful to be so unappealing to everyone around me, and it only made my depression worse.
A little before I turned 21, I cut my caloric intake from 4000 to 1000 calories a day, spaced those calories out over several meals, and hit up the gym every day until I dropped 70 pounds, and was able to bench 100.
Anger
Around 22, my depression became anger. I snapped at demanding customers at work, became heavily invested in politics so I had a faceless enemy to hate, and even started pointless, stupid fights with my first girlfriend.
After two years of this, I knew it had to stop, so I started exercising complete and total control over my thoughts. It was exhausting for the first few months, but after a while, I calmed down to the point where my optimism and happiness were automatic instead of forced.
Faithlessness and Complacency
When I first got abroad, I felt like slipping back into my old ways because things didn't get immediately better. I got lazy and moody, went outside only under protest, and spent my days playing PSP or watching TV all day.
Then I got my butt in gear, went out to live life, and became awesome in about a month.
So again, what does all of this have to do with marriage? Well, take the first two stories that happened in the past few days, and compare them to what I went through before I married. Then, a problem was me holding a scalpel blade to an artery in my arm. A problem was a borderline mother, whose destructive and ever-changing emotions were a constant mystery until the moment she was screaming in my face for something. A problem was going through three parental divorces before I was even in my teens, and having to move and lose my friends (and not to mention my emotional stability) no less than seven times before I was even in high school. A problem was knowing that around 16,000 children die every day of hunger, and trying to figure out, with the money I made, how I could make that 15,970.
But a problem for married people, and those intimately connected to them?
- You didn't answer your phone.
- You forgot your jacket.
- It's too hot.
- My sister is angry.
- I flip out every time politics comes up.
- I'm too lazy to learn something beneficial for my children.
All cause for colossal laziness, brooding depression or explosive anger, it seems.
I struggled for years to become an awesome person. When I was abroad and still not married, my mind was free of the concerns of most people, because I had the tenacity and persistence necessary to change my life for the better in every possible way. I didn't work around my problems and focus on my strengths; I stood tall over my problems until they cowered in the corner, pleading for mercy, and then I made them into my strengths.
And now, today... someone called me fat, throw a fit? The house isn't spotless, blow up and bark? Even married people that aren't in my family lack the strength to abandon poisonous political views, or crippling sloth, in order to improve. Marriage means extra, unending work to be sure, but for the things that could be put off until later, like the previously mentioned foreigner's politically charged emotional instability or his child's chances in school, they were things to continually put off until later. That is a married person's life: a thousand paper cuts, or endless procrastination. Sacrifice or complacency. Days without rest or laziness.
Do you want to know what this feels like? To overcome and destroy many, not just one or two, problems that would crush or paralyze other people, then to be imprisoned in the life of petty issues that I'm living now? It's like I spent a decade going through a punishing school system, then I graduated from a difficult college and graduate school, and once I had a few months to enjoy my new diploma, I was chained up in a kindergarten to learn my ABCs for the following 20 years.
My wife got upset about how I washed blankets. I used to be anxious about learning an entire language in months. My mother-in-law gets upset about what people think of me when I'm not dressed for cold weather. I used to worry about how I was going to live another day.
Marriage has hobbled me in every possible way. Every last scrap of strength I accrued for myself, and wanted to use enjoying life and helping people, has been transferred to my family. And yet, after all I've given up, and knowing full well that I need to make over a half million dollars in the next fifteen years to pay for all of the expenses of my married life, it's not me who blows my top at my family; it's the exact opposite.
Living a life of complacency and sloth in marriage sounds like a dream, but it's not. Even though it was a pretty tough road to get there, I can say without hesitation that I was happier abroad, before I got married, than any other moment of my life, and it was worth the struggle. And I didn't become a great person then because I was born genetically better (I had health problems growing up), or because my parents were rich (three of the five were poor, two were middle class), or because I was lucky (you make your own luck). It was because I decided to do it, then didn't give up until I did. If the schmuck I was could do it, anybody can.
Then I got married, and my evolution stopped. Everything I was, and could have been, has been given to my family.
How awesome was I? It's easy to answer that question by talking about what kind of son I have, because he's the one who got nearly everything I worked for. He's a mini-celebrity around here, and it's not just because he's cute. He's still a toddler, but he's more polite than most middle schoolers. He's multilingual, polite, intelligent, inquisitive, adventurous, well-behaved, and diplomatic, just like his dad was five years ago. And honestly? He was worth the sacrifice. He went from tantrums as a baby, to the good boy he is today.
But my wife and mother-in-law? More of the same. They have no incentive to improve their bad behavior and tendency to drama, because I have no leverage over either of them:
When my son's bad, he loses out on trips, toys and a happy dad.
When my wife's out of order, she directly controls our sex, indirectly controls our money through the threat of divorce, and knows it's best for our son that we stay married, so she can just keep on acting up when she pleases. Even when I punish her for her nonsense with less monthly payments or ice cold apathy, she just comes back harder, or she promises to do better, then acts like an a-hole again a few months later.
When my mother-in-law goes ape, I know she has a large influence over my wife's emotional state, which in turn affects mine, so I can't get her to behave, either.
If I hadn't married my wife, she would still be the same woman that she really is: the one I dated five years ago, and I would hardly ever talk to her mother. My wife would also be on her best behavior, because she knew how many other women I knew who were waiting for a guy as great as I was to sweep them off their feet. And of course, I would be on my best behavior, because any and all girlfriends I would have dated would have deserved nothing less.
Marriage was completely unnecessary for me, as a strong man, to have an excellent child and life. I only went through with it because my son needed a stable environment to grow up in, and I didn't want him going through divorce like I did as a boy, much less several. But marriage has only complicated and ruined everything it's touched in my life, when it wasn't even needed in the first place.
I've read statistics that show that children of married couples grow up to be more happy and successful than those from single parent houses. But unless the child is already coming or born, I don't think that's a good reason to get married. To be perfectly frank, I think single parents fail their children so often because single parents are, by and large, unfit to parent.
How many of them are horrible people who push away the other parent of their child, and then turn that bad behavior on their kids? How many are the kind of person who is inherently attracted to irresponsible, abusive losers because of non-existent thought control and poor mental health, then get abandoned by the loser, and then turn their mental issues on their children? How many work hard for their kids, but when they get home, they refuse to spend time with them because they have no desire to get themselves up for their kids' sake, and instead leave the childrearing to the TV, their own parents, or their children's friends?
People who are married, just by nature of staying in that vampiric institution, have already proven that they have the ability to sacrifice. This bodes well for their children, which in turn is why their kids do better. It has nothing to do with the marriage contract, and everything to do with the parents' personalities.
My point is that marriage is unnecessary baggage, sacrifice and strife that doesn't need to be put in place for a kid's sake, provided that their adoptive parent, or parent through surrogate mother/donor father, has the financial strength and emotional well-being to take care of all of their child's needs. Getting married to prove that you will be a good parent is like testing a bulletproof vest's capability to stop a bullet... by wearing it while the gun is fired. It's a punishing shortcut to non-existent happiness and security, but the most insidious thing is that the price is unfathomable until you get into it, and realize what you gave up for no good reason.
Picture life as a cold mountain, with snow, biting winds, and sharp, rocky handholds all up the side of it. At the very top is an unexplainable, lush garden of beauty and relaxation, but you must climb to the top to experience it. Shangri-La, if you will. Being unmarried, responsible and honorable means climbing that mountain every day, taking the chilling winds and exhausted muscles until reaching the very top. And it also means learning to love the climb, because not only does pain show you that there are things you can improve on to become even better, but when you reach the top, you'll know that you earned your great life.
Marrying means finding a damp cave a quarter of the way up, going inside to light a dying fire, wrapping yourself up in itchy animal hides, and feeling content that at least it's better than the cold outside.
My problem four years ago? I climbed ten miles yesterday, and I'm exhausted.
The problem of married people? These hides smell funny.
I should have realized that I wanted kids, not marriage, before it was too late. I should have realized that kids fulfill, and marriage drains, winners like the man I was.
(UPDATE: He first planned on moving back to America next year at great financial cost, and taking a job that doesn't pay much, in an effort to avoid learning the local language for his child's sake. This didn't happen, and it turns out that his kid was sent away from the local school to be homeschooled because he can't speak with the teacher or other kids. I expected nothing less than this kind of laziness from a married person).
Later, after he saw how well-behaved my son was, we talked a little bit about child rearing and how we could both improve our styles, trying to find the middle ground between corporal punishment and "letting them do their thing."
Then, he turned the conversation to politics.
I stood there, politely maintaining eye contact and nodding as he went off on a half hour tirade filled with swearing, exaggerated hand waving and yelling about Walker this, unions that, Obama this, Republicans that. At one point, he referred to a long-time friend of his, who happened to be on the opposite side of the political spectrum, as a "f***in' idiot," before he walked the statement back and called him "ignorant."
Two days later, I was watching TV with my wife at our house, and my mother-in-law made a surprise visit. She started yelling at the two of us for not picking up her phone calls thirty minutes earlier, and barked that it was absolutely unacceptable behavior for two parents. "What if your son was sick or hurt?!" she bellowed. "He's going to school in a few months! How can you two be so selfish?!"
So what do these two incidents have to do with marriage? For that answer, I need to rewind to nearly the beginning of my life, and the things I overcame to become the man I was before I got married:
Racism
Until I was 6, and still living with my father, he taught me to hate. I still remember being 3 or 4 and telling my younger brother that I wished Martin Luther King Jr. were never born, so "the blacks would still be our slaves."
When my mother got custody of the two of us when I was 6, she taught us the filth of those beliefs, and neither one of us followed them again.
Selfishness and Egotism
From around age 6 to 14, I was a snot. I refused to let my friends play my video games, I yelled at them when they made mistakes, and I relentlessly teased and insulted them because I thought it was funny.
When I turned 14 and my depression hit, I knew that I wasn't a good person. To fix that, I (erroneously) thought that there were only two ways I could deal with my depression: turn it outwards and become a bully, or turn it inwards and beat myself up for everything. I did the latter, and stopped hurting others as much as I could.
Depression
From around 14 to 21, I was a depressed and suicidal ball of self-loathing. I never did anything to improve my life, and blamed everyone except myself for not getting better.
When I turned 21, answering "Yes" to Leena's question, "Do you want to get better?" set me on the path to healing, and I never gave up forgiving those who hurt me, severing poisonous relationships and following my dreams until my depression was eradicated around the time I was 23 or so.
Religious Tribalism
When I was around 14 or 15, I rebelled against my non-practicing Baptist mother by becoming a hardcore Atheist. I blamed God for not helping me when I was in pain, internally screamed at the heavens for not doing something to support me, and got into arguments about how people were stupid to have faith.
From 17 to 23, I studied several faiths to find some peace with religion, and using the ideas they shared, was able to take bits and pieces here and there to form the tools I needed to crush my depression later. They also helped me to form my spiritual beliefs of today, and I now have nothing but respect for people who practice other faiths, or none at all.
Political Tribalism
Around 17, I became a hardcore Progressive, so I could blame the powerful for being corrupt and leaving scraps behind for the "downtrodden" like me. Around 21 or 22, after I started the path to emotional recovery, I became a hardcore Libertarian so I could blame the poor, weak and unhappy for not improving like I was. Six or seven years passed in total, where I felt seething rage or snapped when I heard words like "Bush" or "socialist," hated faceless millions of people for their ideals, and lacked the emotional control to treat people I respected like friends, instead of mortal enemies, when I learned that what they believed differed from my ideas.
Around 24, I knew I was sick. So, I spent time on both sides of the political aisle simultaneously, and realized how much either side suppresses inconvenient stories, cherry picks data, spins or outright lies to push their agenda. I realized then that I could never trust anyone to give me the whole story when something went on in the world, so I stopping listening to all of it. After that, I not only became more focused on my goals in life, but found a new kind of peace where I stopped viewing half of the world as evil or stupid.
Obesity
From around 18 to 20, I was huge: 250 pounds of pure fat, no muscle to speak of. It was painful to be so unappealing to everyone around me, and it only made my depression worse.
A little before I turned 21, I cut my caloric intake from 4000 to 1000 calories a day, spaced those calories out over several meals, and hit up the gym every day until I dropped 70 pounds, and was able to bench 100.
Anger
Around 22, my depression became anger. I snapped at demanding customers at work, became heavily invested in politics so I had a faceless enemy to hate, and even started pointless, stupid fights with my first girlfriend.
After two years of this, I knew it had to stop, so I started exercising complete and total control over my thoughts. It was exhausting for the first few months, but after a while, I calmed down to the point where my optimism and happiness were automatic instead of forced.
Faithlessness and Complacency
When I first got abroad, I felt like slipping back into my old ways because things didn't get immediately better. I got lazy and moody, went outside only under protest, and spent my days playing PSP or watching TV all day.
Then I got my butt in gear, went out to live life, and became awesome in about a month.
So again, what does all of this have to do with marriage? Well, take the first two stories that happened in the past few days, and compare them to what I went through before I married. Then, a problem was me holding a scalpel blade to an artery in my arm. A problem was a borderline mother, whose destructive and ever-changing emotions were a constant mystery until the moment she was screaming in my face for something. A problem was going through three parental divorces before I was even in my teens, and having to move and lose my friends (and not to mention my emotional stability) no less than seven times before I was even in high school. A problem was knowing that around 16,000 children die every day of hunger, and trying to figure out, with the money I made, how I could make that 15,970.
But a problem for married people, and those intimately connected to them?
- You didn't answer your phone.
- You forgot your jacket.
- It's too hot.
- My sister is angry.
- I flip out every time politics comes up.
- I'm too lazy to learn something beneficial for my children.
All cause for colossal laziness, brooding depression or explosive anger, it seems.
I struggled for years to become an awesome person. When I was abroad and still not married, my mind was free of the concerns of most people, because I had the tenacity and persistence necessary to change my life for the better in every possible way. I didn't work around my problems and focus on my strengths; I stood tall over my problems until they cowered in the corner, pleading for mercy, and then I made them into my strengths.
And now, today... someone called me fat, throw a fit? The house isn't spotless, blow up and bark? Even married people that aren't in my family lack the strength to abandon poisonous political views, or crippling sloth, in order to improve. Marriage means extra, unending work to be sure, but for the things that could be put off until later, like the previously mentioned foreigner's politically charged emotional instability or his child's chances in school, they were things to continually put off until later. That is a married person's life: a thousand paper cuts, or endless procrastination. Sacrifice or complacency. Days without rest or laziness.
Do you want to know what this feels like? To overcome and destroy many, not just one or two, problems that would crush or paralyze other people, then to be imprisoned in the life of petty issues that I'm living now? It's like I spent a decade going through a punishing school system, then I graduated from a difficult college and graduate school, and once I had a few months to enjoy my new diploma, I was chained up in a kindergarten to learn my ABCs for the following 20 years.
My wife got upset about how I washed blankets. I used to be anxious about learning an entire language in months. My mother-in-law gets upset about what people think of me when I'm not dressed for cold weather. I used to worry about how I was going to live another day.
Marriage has hobbled me in every possible way. Every last scrap of strength I accrued for myself, and wanted to use enjoying life and helping people, has been transferred to my family. And yet, after all I've given up, and knowing full well that I need to make over a half million dollars in the next fifteen years to pay for all of the expenses of my married life, it's not me who blows my top at my family; it's the exact opposite.
Living a life of complacency and sloth in marriage sounds like a dream, but it's not. Even though it was a pretty tough road to get there, I can say without hesitation that I was happier abroad, before I got married, than any other moment of my life, and it was worth the struggle. And I didn't become a great person then because I was born genetically better (I had health problems growing up), or because my parents were rich (three of the five were poor, two were middle class), or because I was lucky (you make your own luck). It was because I decided to do it, then didn't give up until I did. If the schmuck I was could do it, anybody can.
Then I got married, and my evolution stopped. Everything I was, and could have been, has been given to my family.
How awesome was I? It's easy to answer that question by talking about what kind of son I have, because he's the one who got nearly everything I worked for. He's a mini-celebrity around here, and it's not just because he's cute. He's still a toddler, but he's more polite than most middle schoolers. He's multilingual, polite, intelligent, inquisitive, adventurous, well-behaved, and diplomatic, just like his dad was five years ago. And honestly? He was worth the sacrifice. He went from tantrums as a baby, to the good boy he is today.
But my wife and mother-in-law? More of the same. They have no incentive to improve their bad behavior and tendency to drama, because I have no leverage over either of them:
When my son's bad, he loses out on trips, toys and a happy dad.
When my wife's out of order, she directly controls our sex, indirectly controls our money through the threat of divorce, and knows it's best for our son that we stay married, so she can just keep on acting up when she pleases. Even when I punish her for her nonsense with less monthly payments or ice cold apathy, she just comes back harder, or she promises to do better, then acts like an a-hole again a few months later.
When my mother-in-law goes ape, I know she has a large influence over my wife's emotional state, which in turn affects mine, so I can't get her to behave, either.
If I hadn't married my wife, she would still be the same woman that she really is: the one I dated five years ago, and I would hardly ever talk to her mother. My wife would also be on her best behavior, because she knew how many other women I knew who were waiting for a guy as great as I was to sweep them off their feet. And of course, I would be on my best behavior, because any and all girlfriends I would have dated would have deserved nothing less.
Marriage was completely unnecessary for me, as a strong man, to have an excellent child and life. I only went through with it because my son needed a stable environment to grow up in, and I didn't want him going through divorce like I did as a boy, much less several. But marriage has only complicated and ruined everything it's touched in my life, when it wasn't even needed in the first place.
I've read statistics that show that children of married couples grow up to be more happy and successful than those from single parent houses. But unless the child is already coming or born, I don't think that's a good reason to get married. To be perfectly frank, I think single parents fail their children so often because single parents are, by and large, unfit to parent.
How many of them are horrible people who push away the other parent of their child, and then turn that bad behavior on their kids? How many are the kind of person who is inherently attracted to irresponsible, abusive losers because of non-existent thought control and poor mental health, then get abandoned by the loser, and then turn their mental issues on their children? How many work hard for their kids, but when they get home, they refuse to spend time with them because they have no desire to get themselves up for their kids' sake, and instead leave the childrearing to the TV, their own parents, or their children's friends?
People who are married, just by nature of staying in that vampiric institution, have already proven that they have the ability to sacrifice. This bodes well for their children, which in turn is why their kids do better. It has nothing to do with the marriage contract, and everything to do with the parents' personalities.
My point is that marriage is unnecessary baggage, sacrifice and strife that doesn't need to be put in place for a kid's sake, provided that their adoptive parent, or parent through surrogate mother/donor father, has the financial strength and emotional well-being to take care of all of their child's needs. Getting married to prove that you will be a good parent is like testing a bulletproof vest's capability to stop a bullet... by wearing it while the gun is fired. It's a punishing shortcut to non-existent happiness and security, but the most insidious thing is that the price is unfathomable until you get into it, and realize what you gave up for no good reason.
Picture life as a cold mountain, with snow, biting winds, and sharp, rocky handholds all up the side of it. At the very top is an unexplainable, lush garden of beauty and relaxation, but you must climb to the top to experience it. Shangri-La, if you will. Being unmarried, responsible and honorable means climbing that mountain every day, taking the chilling winds and exhausted muscles until reaching the very top. And it also means learning to love the climb, because not only does pain show you that there are things you can improve on to become even better, but when you reach the top, you'll know that you earned your great life.
Marrying means finding a damp cave a quarter of the way up, going inside to light a dying fire, wrapping yourself up in itchy animal hides, and feeling content that at least it's better than the cold outside.
My problem four years ago? I climbed ten miles yesterday, and I'm exhausted.
The problem of married people? These hides smell funny.
I should have realized that I wanted kids, not marriage, before it was too late. I should have realized that kids fulfill, and marriage drains, winners like the man I was.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Zoo trip
My wife, son and I took a trip with her company to a petting zoo. We were out for thirteen hours:
6:00 - 7:00 - Waited for my wife to get ready.
7:00 - 8:00 - Drove to the bus station.
8:00 - 8:30 - Waited for the bus.
8:30 - 10:00 - Rode the bus.
10:00 - 11:00 - Stood around during orientation.
11:00 - 1:00 - Sat around and ate.
1:00 - 1:30 - Stood around while my wife shopped.
1:30 - 3:00 - Actually pet some animals with my wife and son.
3:00 - 4:00 - Sat around and ate.
4:00 - 4:30 - Got on the bus and waited for it to leave.
4:30 - 6:00 - Rode the bus.
6:00 - 7:00 - Drove home.
Thankfully, my wife kept the drama and nonsense down to a just a few instances during the trip. The worst thing that happened was when she came off the bus with three bags in tow, and because I didn't immediately grab two of them to carry around for the rest of the day, she narrowed her eyes in anger at me, sharply nodded her head towards the bags in her hand, then scowled. It's the same look my mother used to give me when I was a kid. As for me, I should have talked with her co-workers today (even though the topics are always boring and about marriage and work), but by the time I started meeting up with them, five hours of waiting and driving had passed, and I just wasn't in the mood. Still, I expect better of myself, so I'll endeavor to speak up more in the future.
At home, I watched DVDs with my wife, then out of nowhere she started ragging on me. The conversation went like this:
Me: "Boy, what a great movie, huh?"
Wife: "Mmm. Say, have you noticed that you never listen to me?"
Me: "What?"
Wife: "You always say no when I ask you to do something."
Me: "For example?"
Wife: "Like fixing your glasses. You never listen to me on that."
Me: "I told you three or four times before, it's because we don't have money now. I'll fix them when we have cash."
Wife: "It should only cost $50 or $100."
I weighed my options for a reply:
Me, Choice 1: "In the past four years of our marriage, you've spent fourty to fifty dollars every single day of the monthly $1200 I give you, without fail. These expenses don't include payments to your mother or the rent, because your paycheck handles that. They don't include pending college payments, bills or taxes, because I pay all of those. How could our food and clothing budget run us over $1000 every month? If you would stop spending fourty dollars every single day for just a single, solitary day, I could have fixed my glasses three months ago."
Me, Choice 2: "We were just watching DVDs and having fun. Can we talk about this another time?"
I chose the latter, she got quiet, then we soon went to bed, another long, pointless day of marriage waiting for tomorrow to be experienced.
UPDATE: Provider loser me picked Choice 2 because I thought it would lead to her bothering me less, but as previously explained, this did nothing to stop her. Choice 1 ended up coming later, to great effect.
6:00 - 7:00 - Waited for my wife to get ready.
7:00 - 8:00 - Drove to the bus station.
8:00 - 8:30 - Waited for the bus.
8:30 - 10:00 - Rode the bus.
10:00 - 11:00 - Stood around during orientation.
11:00 - 1:00 - Sat around and ate.
1:00 - 1:30 - Stood around while my wife shopped.
1:30 - 3:00 - Actually pet some animals with my wife and son.
3:00 - 4:00 - Sat around and ate.
4:00 - 4:30 - Got on the bus and waited for it to leave.
4:30 - 6:00 - Rode the bus.
6:00 - 7:00 - Drove home.
Thankfully, my wife kept the drama and nonsense down to a just a few instances during the trip. The worst thing that happened was when she came off the bus with three bags in tow, and because I didn't immediately grab two of them to carry around for the rest of the day, she narrowed her eyes in anger at me, sharply nodded her head towards the bags in her hand, then scowled. It's the same look my mother used to give me when I was a kid. As for me, I should have talked with her co-workers today (even though the topics are always boring and about marriage and work), but by the time I started meeting up with them, five hours of waiting and driving had passed, and I just wasn't in the mood. Still, I expect better of myself, so I'll endeavor to speak up more in the future.
At home, I watched DVDs with my wife, then out of nowhere she started ragging on me. The conversation went like this:
Me: "Boy, what a great movie, huh?"
Wife: "Mmm. Say, have you noticed that you never listen to me?"
Me: "What?"
Wife: "You always say no when I ask you to do something."
Me: "For example?"
Wife: "Like fixing your glasses. You never listen to me on that."
Me: "I told you three or four times before, it's because we don't have money now. I'll fix them when we have cash."
Wife: "It should only cost $50 or $100."
I weighed my options for a reply:
Me, Choice 1: "In the past four years of our marriage, you've spent fourty to fifty dollars every single day of the monthly $1200 I give you, without fail. These expenses don't include payments to your mother or the rent, because your paycheck handles that. They don't include pending college payments, bills or taxes, because I pay all of those. How could our food and clothing budget run us over $1000 every month? If you would stop spending fourty dollars every single day for just a single, solitary day, I could have fixed my glasses three months ago."
Me, Choice 2: "We were just watching DVDs and having fun. Can we talk about this another time?"
I chose the latter, she got quiet, then we soon went to bed, another long, pointless day of marriage waiting for tomorrow to be experienced.
UPDATE: Provider loser me picked Choice 2 because I thought it would lead to her bothering me less, but as previously explained, this did nothing to stop her. Choice 1 ended up coming later, to great effect.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Then and Now 38 - Army Hotel
Then and Now 38 - Army Hotel
Time: Mid-2007, single and at the hostel.
After I interviewed for my first job and went to the mountain town in Then and Now 30, I was still looking for work, so I went online to find an agent or two that could help me find more interviews. I got in touch with Esther, who got me an interview with a smaller, more family-like job just a few miles southwest of the hostel. We set up a time to meet near there, and when the day came, I took the subway to a stop just a little ways away from the school, and met up with her.
We talked in an American restaurant of some sort, maybe McDonald's or Starbucks, but I don't remember exactly what it was. I do remember that we sat in the corner near some tall windows so we could look outside at the cars passing by in front of the subway station. She was a very direct woman, and I admired that she didn't mince words. Before she introduced the school to me, we talked about life in this country and how I was doing, and she also told me about a good friend of hers who had married a foreigner. But before long, it was back to business, and she started talking about the school and how it only had a few branches, but that it was well-established and managed. I thought this job would be right up my alley, and I started to get pretty excited. And when she was done telling me about the place, she took me directly to the street that would take me to the school.
The tall buildings that surrounded the subway station were in a pretty tight ring, and as Esther and I walked only a few blocks towards my interview, those multi-storied stores and restaurants soon became lines of small independent stores that ran down both sides of a winding, middle-sized road. She wished me luck as she prepared to return to the subway station and meet another client of hers, but before she left, she advised me to go to a little local toy shop and buy a few balls and stickers for the kids, because I would get instant brownie points for doing so. I told her that was a good idea, then we shook hands and parted.
I didn't buy anything. I had years of experience teaching all ages of students back in America both in classroom settings and in tutor sessions, and I was more than qualified to take the job. In addition, I was halfway through my studies of the local language, and had learned more than enough to wow anybody with my skill. At that point, it wasn't because I was all that amazing at the language, but because the vast majority of the foreigners who come here (or go anywhere in the world, I suspect) don't bother to learn anything of the local language or culture, and instead rely on the myth of immersion granting automatic and fluent language skill, when in reality, dedication and effort make it happen.
So I went straight to the school. I turned down a small road away from the larger street lined with shops behind me, and went down a street that was shaded from many trees lined down the sidewalk. Behind them stood a large elementary school with open windows peeking into empty classrooms, and the whole place looked imposing and impressive shrouded in shadow. Per Esther's instructions, I passed two small streets that broke off into little alleyways to my left until I came to the street that would take me to the school, and in no time, I found it.
I was very impressed. The school was tall and spacious, there were toys of all kinds to utilize when teaching the kids, the boss was very nice and showed me around the entire place, and I would have assistance from a local teacher in all of my classes, so I didn't have to worry too much about class order. I loved the pictures that the kids drew that were taped to the walls, the furnished teacher's office that I would have with the other educators there, the cleanliness of the playground outside, everything.
My demo was exquisitely done: the kids were laughing and well-behaved, the co-teacher smiled and seemed to enjoy my fun and engaging style, and the boss really looked impressed when I was done, too. Everything seemed to be very well in order for my new work.
And then, I met the other foreign teachers.
Bald, fat, middle-aged guy:
Me: Hey, howya doin'? I might be the new teacher here.
Him: Oh. Hey.
Then he looked away and went back to work.
Obvious playboy:
Me: Hi! I'm the new guy.
Him: (Eyes staring straight ahead and in a deadpan voice) Nice to meet you.
Then he brushed past me without another word.
Balding, middle-aged guy:
Me: Hey, howya doin'? Nice to meet you.
Him: Hey. Are you the new guy?
Me: Maybe so! We'll see.
Him: Ok. Sorry, I have to get back to work.
Me: Sure. See you.
I have to admit, at this point, I was getting pretty tired of foreigners shooting me stink eyes, pretending to look at something 90 degrees to the side then suddenly losing interest in "it" when they walked past me (what I've dubbed the "foreigner fakeout"), and otherwise ignoring my friendly hellos at almost every turn. Sure, there were some great guys I met, and they're featured prominently in other Then and Now posts. But what I don't mention are the hundreds upon hundreds of them who acted like my very presence was an affront to their authenticity as a foreign guy abroad, or competition for "their" jobs and women.
And when the boss told me that I would be rooming with these guys, two out of three of whom were utter twits, I thanked the boss for her time, told her I would consider the offer, then left. At least if I couldn't find some other work in time, I thought, I could take this job for half a year, then switch to a place where most of my co-workers weren't complete knobs. So just like Then and Now 30, I turned this trip into a little adventure, and decided to walk my way back to the main station. And it was a long walk down a very long road.
The first place I came across was some kind of army base or fort. There was an impressive gold arch that ran over a very tall and wide fence that rolled in and out to let cars through. Outside was a security station that I couldn't see into, and two impeccably dressed local soldiers stood guard in front of the main gate. I looked at the buildings behind the soldiers in wonder as I got a little closer, and when all of us made eye contact, I smiled and waved. The soldier on the right raised his head in greeting, then stepped forward to meet me.
"Hi," I said in the local language. "I just wanted to say that you guys look really cool."
The soldier on the left smiled, and the one on the right barked a laugh. "Ha! Thanks," he said.
"No problem," I replied. "Sorry to bother you. Bye!" The two laughed and waved goodbye, and I continued on.
Next, I came to the back entrance of the army area, and I found that it was open to the public. There was a wide courtyard between the entrance and two buildings ahead of me. The stone ground rose up sharply to position the buildings about twenty feet up, and some stone steps led up to a closed door on each one. Between them was a stone entryway, and beyond that was a huge building bearing a statue of one of the country's most important figures. There was a crowd of locals watching a line of soldiers marching up and down the courtyard, taking pictures as they moved in perfect sync with each other. I took a few pictures myself and left shortly after, but I still remember some goofball kid, maybe ten or so, standing next to the soldiers and miming their movements.
I passed by several trees as the road wound around and around, and hit inclines and declines every few minutes. I knew for certain that I was walking around a mountain. When the road stopped winding and going up and down for a few minutes in both directions, the next place I came to was a large and gated building. The gate was open and there weren't any guards, so I wandered in to see what this place was.
As I entered the foyer, I could see a swimming pool, a tennis court and a few other sporty places through some windows, and thought that I might want to join up to make use of the place when I got some money in the future. A local woman came up to me from a receptionist's desk, and asked if she could help me. I asked her what the place was, and she told me it was a recreation center for foreigners who lived in this country. She didn't ask if I wanted to join, so I figured it might have been pretty expensive, but I asked if she had any information that I could look at, just in case. She happily pointed me to a rack of brochures, so I thanked her and went over to get a better idea of the place. I balked at the monthly price, but kept my cool and waved goodbye before getting out of there.
As I started back on the winding and inclining road outside, the sun had gotten lower in the sky, and was starting to cast shadows from the trees onto the road. I walked through a rather dark stretch of road, and looked up to my right at a shadowed cliff, maybe one or two hundred feet high. It was covered in trees, and there were some stairs with sturdy railings leading up to the top, so I picked one and went on up. When I reached the top, I looked out on a very impressive series of short mountains with houses dotted all over them, and roads winding all around.
Atop one of the mountains was a beautiful, multi-storied, red and yellow building with hundreds of windows, a stylized roof and a huge entrance, but I wasn't close enough to make out more details than that. I ended up going there with my boss and co-workers from the job I eventually landed, as a way of them saying thanks to me for the excellent work I had done for them. It was a hotel, and they treated me to a first class meal in a restaurant on one of the bottom floors. But back to that moment on the cliff, I was very happy to see that sight, and I guessed correctly that it was probably a hotel of some kind.
I felt another rush of euphoria, that when I had gotten a job and made some money, I could go stay there for a night or two just for fun. I was back at the subway station a short while later, and headed back to the hostel to take a shower and relax a while before heading out again that night.
A day or two later, I went back to the school and told the boss that I couldn't work for them, and she practically begged me to take the job, saying I was their very first choice and that I would be a perfect match for their school. I said that I was sorry, but if they needed any help with translations, babysitting or substitute classes, I could mail them my schedule and they could make use of me when they could. After I got my job at the third school, I did so, but I never got any requests from the second school, so I think they did just fine without me.
I feel kind of sorry for the guy who got the job and had to live with those knobs, though.
As for today...
I woke up at 9:00.
I watched TV.
I ate lunch.
I played video games with my son.
I watched TV.
I roughhoused with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I ate dinner.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I hung up wet laundry.
I started a load of laundry.
I played video games with my son.
I slept.
Time: Mid-2007, single and at the hostel.
After I interviewed for my first job and went to the mountain town in Then and Now 30, I was still looking for work, so I went online to find an agent or two that could help me find more interviews. I got in touch with Esther, who got me an interview with a smaller, more family-like job just a few miles southwest of the hostel. We set up a time to meet near there, and when the day came, I took the subway to a stop just a little ways away from the school, and met up with her.
We talked in an American restaurant of some sort, maybe McDonald's or Starbucks, but I don't remember exactly what it was. I do remember that we sat in the corner near some tall windows so we could look outside at the cars passing by in front of the subway station. She was a very direct woman, and I admired that she didn't mince words. Before she introduced the school to me, we talked about life in this country and how I was doing, and she also told me about a good friend of hers who had married a foreigner. But before long, it was back to business, and she started talking about the school and how it only had a few branches, but that it was well-established and managed. I thought this job would be right up my alley, and I started to get pretty excited. And when she was done telling me about the place, she took me directly to the street that would take me to the school.
The tall buildings that surrounded the subway station were in a pretty tight ring, and as Esther and I walked only a few blocks towards my interview, those multi-storied stores and restaurants soon became lines of small independent stores that ran down both sides of a winding, middle-sized road. She wished me luck as she prepared to return to the subway station and meet another client of hers, but before she left, she advised me to go to a little local toy shop and buy a few balls and stickers for the kids, because I would get instant brownie points for doing so. I told her that was a good idea, then we shook hands and parted.
I didn't buy anything. I had years of experience teaching all ages of students back in America both in classroom settings and in tutor sessions, and I was more than qualified to take the job. In addition, I was halfway through my studies of the local language, and had learned more than enough to wow anybody with my skill. At that point, it wasn't because I was all that amazing at the language, but because the vast majority of the foreigners who come here (or go anywhere in the world, I suspect) don't bother to learn anything of the local language or culture, and instead rely on the myth of immersion granting automatic and fluent language skill, when in reality, dedication and effort make it happen.
So I went straight to the school. I turned down a small road away from the larger street lined with shops behind me, and went down a street that was shaded from many trees lined down the sidewalk. Behind them stood a large elementary school with open windows peeking into empty classrooms, and the whole place looked imposing and impressive shrouded in shadow. Per Esther's instructions, I passed two small streets that broke off into little alleyways to my left until I came to the street that would take me to the school, and in no time, I found it.
I was very impressed. The school was tall and spacious, there were toys of all kinds to utilize when teaching the kids, the boss was very nice and showed me around the entire place, and I would have assistance from a local teacher in all of my classes, so I didn't have to worry too much about class order. I loved the pictures that the kids drew that were taped to the walls, the furnished teacher's office that I would have with the other educators there, the cleanliness of the playground outside, everything.
My demo was exquisitely done: the kids were laughing and well-behaved, the co-teacher smiled and seemed to enjoy my fun and engaging style, and the boss really looked impressed when I was done, too. Everything seemed to be very well in order for my new work.
And then, I met the other foreign teachers.
Bald, fat, middle-aged guy:
Me: Hey, howya doin'? I might be the new teacher here.
Him: Oh. Hey.
Then he looked away and went back to work.
Obvious playboy:
Me: Hi! I'm the new guy.
Him: (Eyes staring straight ahead and in a deadpan voice) Nice to meet you.
Then he brushed past me without another word.
Balding, middle-aged guy:
Me: Hey, howya doin'? Nice to meet you.
Him: Hey. Are you the new guy?
Me: Maybe so! We'll see.
Him: Ok. Sorry, I have to get back to work.
Me: Sure. See you.
I have to admit, at this point, I was getting pretty tired of foreigners shooting me stink eyes, pretending to look at something 90 degrees to the side then suddenly losing interest in "it" when they walked past me (what I've dubbed the "foreigner fakeout"), and otherwise ignoring my friendly hellos at almost every turn. Sure, there were some great guys I met, and they're featured prominently in other Then and Now posts. But what I don't mention are the hundreds upon hundreds of them who acted like my very presence was an affront to their authenticity as a foreign guy abroad, or competition for "their" jobs and women.
And when the boss told me that I would be rooming with these guys, two out of three of whom were utter twits, I thanked the boss for her time, told her I would consider the offer, then left. At least if I couldn't find some other work in time, I thought, I could take this job for half a year, then switch to a place where most of my co-workers weren't complete knobs. So just like Then and Now 30, I turned this trip into a little adventure, and decided to walk my way back to the main station. And it was a long walk down a very long road.
The first place I came across was some kind of army base or fort. There was an impressive gold arch that ran over a very tall and wide fence that rolled in and out to let cars through. Outside was a security station that I couldn't see into, and two impeccably dressed local soldiers stood guard in front of the main gate. I looked at the buildings behind the soldiers in wonder as I got a little closer, and when all of us made eye contact, I smiled and waved. The soldier on the right raised his head in greeting, then stepped forward to meet me.
"Hi," I said in the local language. "I just wanted to say that you guys look really cool."
The soldier on the left smiled, and the one on the right barked a laugh. "Ha! Thanks," he said.
"No problem," I replied. "Sorry to bother you. Bye!" The two laughed and waved goodbye, and I continued on.
Next, I came to the back entrance of the army area, and I found that it was open to the public. There was a wide courtyard between the entrance and two buildings ahead of me. The stone ground rose up sharply to position the buildings about twenty feet up, and some stone steps led up to a closed door on each one. Between them was a stone entryway, and beyond that was a huge building bearing a statue of one of the country's most important figures. There was a crowd of locals watching a line of soldiers marching up and down the courtyard, taking pictures as they moved in perfect sync with each other. I took a few pictures myself and left shortly after, but I still remember some goofball kid, maybe ten or so, standing next to the soldiers and miming their movements.
I passed by several trees as the road wound around and around, and hit inclines and declines every few minutes. I knew for certain that I was walking around a mountain. When the road stopped winding and going up and down for a few minutes in both directions, the next place I came to was a large and gated building. The gate was open and there weren't any guards, so I wandered in to see what this place was.
As I entered the foyer, I could see a swimming pool, a tennis court and a few other sporty places through some windows, and thought that I might want to join up to make use of the place when I got some money in the future. A local woman came up to me from a receptionist's desk, and asked if she could help me. I asked her what the place was, and she told me it was a recreation center for foreigners who lived in this country. She didn't ask if I wanted to join, so I figured it might have been pretty expensive, but I asked if she had any information that I could look at, just in case. She happily pointed me to a rack of brochures, so I thanked her and went over to get a better idea of the place. I balked at the monthly price, but kept my cool and waved goodbye before getting out of there.
As I started back on the winding and inclining road outside, the sun had gotten lower in the sky, and was starting to cast shadows from the trees onto the road. I walked through a rather dark stretch of road, and looked up to my right at a shadowed cliff, maybe one or two hundred feet high. It was covered in trees, and there were some stairs with sturdy railings leading up to the top, so I picked one and went on up. When I reached the top, I looked out on a very impressive series of short mountains with houses dotted all over them, and roads winding all around.
Atop one of the mountains was a beautiful, multi-storied, red and yellow building with hundreds of windows, a stylized roof and a huge entrance, but I wasn't close enough to make out more details than that. I ended up going there with my boss and co-workers from the job I eventually landed, as a way of them saying thanks to me for the excellent work I had done for them. It was a hotel, and they treated me to a first class meal in a restaurant on one of the bottom floors. But back to that moment on the cliff, I was very happy to see that sight, and I guessed correctly that it was probably a hotel of some kind.
I felt another rush of euphoria, that when I had gotten a job and made some money, I could go stay there for a night or two just for fun. I was back at the subway station a short while later, and headed back to the hostel to take a shower and relax a while before heading out again that night.
A day or two later, I went back to the school and told the boss that I couldn't work for them, and she practically begged me to take the job, saying I was their very first choice and that I would be a perfect match for their school. I said that I was sorry, but if they needed any help with translations, babysitting or substitute classes, I could mail them my schedule and they could make use of me when they could. After I got my job at the third school, I did so, but I never got any requests from the second school, so I think they did just fine without me.
I feel kind of sorry for the guy who got the job and had to live with those knobs, though.
As for today...
I woke up at 9:00.
I watched TV.
I ate lunch.
I played video games with my son.
I watched TV.
I roughhoused with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I ate dinner.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I hung up wet laundry.
I started a load of laundry.
I played video games with my son.
I slept.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Then and Now 37 - Edge of Town
Then and Now 37 - Edge of Town
Time: Late 2007, single and at my apartment.
I was in my apartment one weekend, trying to decide where to go in the big city that day. I checked my map, and saw a lot of check marks all over the stops and sites that I had been to, but most of the places I went to were in the north, west, south, and center of the big city. The only reason I had ever gone to the east side of town was to go to Tim and Jessie's house to have class or hang out at their place. There wasn't a whole lot labeled on my subway map for that side of the city, but I knew that not having a museum or a national park at a subway stop was no indication of how interesting it would be, so I went out to take a look over there.
I took the subway to the center-east part of town, and instead of getting off at one of the few interesting places that were labeled there, I instead got off at an early stop and took a several mile walk through this new area. The walk was very nice. There weren't many people around and the day was a bit overcast and keeping the sun from beating down too hard, so I took a leisurely stroll past numerous tall buildings on my left, and an outdoor sports park to my right. Down there, there were some skaters messing around on the cement partitions surrounding some bushes and trees, and there were a couple of playgrounds where some kids were sliding and swinging with their parents looking on.
As I kept on, the buildings to my left got shorter and more spaced out, until I could see the mountains behind them covered with the green of lush trees. I thought at that point that I might walk straight home to America if I kept on going, because as civilization thins out, the ocean tends to make an appearance. But it wasn't long before I saw a large collection of buildings to my right, and throngs of people walking around between them, so I went down to take a look.
The buildings were two stories high. On the ground level were a ton of independent shops, one right next to the other. Some sold clothes, others makeup, snacks, drinks, shoes, posters and other assorted items. The second levels had a few other shops, but were mostly offices. On my way down the street and through the crowds, I saw a gathering of people around a statue. I got closer to see who it was, and was surprised when the statue suddenly came to life. The man in total body brown makeup posed for a second, looked around, then returned to looking regal again. I smiled and looked around a bit, and watched the people around me laughing and clapping at the performer. As I looked around, I noticed he wasn't alone. There were a few more living statues around that area: one brown, another whitish-grey, and both carrying on in the same manner as the first one: staying still for a few minutes, then suddenly coming to life to surprise everyone around them, then returning to motionlessness to "get" the next group of unwary visitors.
I went a little farther into the shopping area, and soon found a place of the arts. There were a few movie theaters there playing some flicks, some new and some old, but I was more interested in the theater play area. It was square-shaped, but it had a circle cut in the ceiling in the middle, and a small garden with a few plants and a little waterfall there. On a wall, I saw a poster for a play that was going to start very soon, and saw that a foreign actor troupe had come to the country to perform it.
I don't quite remember what the play was (I'm pretty sure it was something Greek or Shakespearean). I did remember that by that time, I had only been to four plays in my life: two awesome Christmas plays, a fun high school play that a friend of mine starred in, and a boring college play that took three hours to say, "Stop to smell the roses before you die." Three out of four wasn't bad at all, and I thought that if these actors were good enough to be playing internationally, then I would be more than happy to see some of their work.
At that moment, a foreign woman dressed up in an amazing Elizabethan dress came out. She was talking to a local woman, who by her conservative business attire, looked like someone who was producing or directing the play. I watched the two of them walk through the beautiful garden in the middle and towards the shopping center, but since they didn't look my way, I didn't have a chance to say hello. I made a note to come back there to see a movie and a play on the same day in the future, then went to the nearest subway stop to get home; I was pretty beat, so I didn't have the energy to make it back home on foot.
I never got the chance to go back there before my wife got pregnant, but just like the art museum from Then and Now 18, I hope that day comes in the future.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I ate lunch.
I played video games with my son.
I watched TV.
I did the dishes.
I played cars with my son.
I watched DVDs with my wife.
I watched TV.
I ate dinner.
I did the dishes again.
I watched DVDs with my wife.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I slept.
Time: Late 2007, single and at my apartment.
I was in my apartment one weekend, trying to decide where to go in the big city that day. I checked my map, and saw a lot of check marks all over the stops and sites that I had been to, but most of the places I went to were in the north, west, south, and center of the big city. The only reason I had ever gone to the east side of town was to go to Tim and Jessie's house to have class or hang out at their place. There wasn't a whole lot labeled on my subway map for that side of the city, but I knew that not having a museum or a national park at a subway stop was no indication of how interesting it would be, so I went out to take a look over there.
I took the subway to the center-east part of town, and instead of getting off at one of the few interesting places that were labeled there, I instead got off at an early stop and took a several mile walk through this new area. The walk was very nice. There weren't many people around and the day was a bit overcast and keeping the sun from beating down too hard, so I took a leisurely stroll past numerous tall buildings on my left, and an outdoor sports park to my right. Down there, there were some skaters messing around on the cement partitions surrounding some bushes and trees, and there were a couple of playgrounds where some kids were sliding and swinging with their parents looking on.
As I kept on, the buildings to my left got shorter and more spaced out, until I could see the mountains behind them covered with the green of lush trees. I thought at that point that I might walk straight home to America if I kept on going, because as civilization thins out, the ocean tends to make an appearance. But it wasn't long before I saw a large collection of buildings to my right, and throngs of people walking around between them, so I went down to take a look.
The buildings were two stories high. On the ground level were a ton of independent shops, one right next to the other. Some sold clothes, others makeup, snacks, drinks, shoes, posters and other assorted items. The second levels had a few other shops, but were mostly offices. On my way down the street and through the crowds, I saw a gathering of people around a statue. I got closer to see who it was, and was surprised when the statue suddenly came to life. The man in total body brown makeup posed for a second, looked around, then returned to looking regal again. I smiled and looked around a bit, and watched the people around me laughing and clapping at the performer. As I looked around, I noticed he wasn't alone. There were a few more living statues around that area: one brown, another whitish-grey, and both carrying on in the same manner as the first one: staying still for a few minutes, then suddenly coming to life to surprise everyone around them, then returning to motionlessness to "get" the next group of unwary visitors.
I went a little farther into the shopping area, and soon found a place of the arts. There were a few movie theaters there playing some flicks, some new and some old, but I was more interested in the theater play area. It was square-shaped, but it had a circle cut in the ceiling in the middle, and a small garden with a few plants and a little waterfall there. On a wall, I saw a poster for a play that was going to start very soon, and saw that a foreign actor troupe had come to the country to perform it.
I don't quite remember what the play was (I'm pretty sure it was something Greek or Shakespearean). I did remember that by that time, I had only been to four plays in my life: two awesome Christmas plays, a fun high school play that a friend of mine starred in, and a boring college play that took three hours to say, "Stop to smell the roses before you die." Three out of four wasn't bad at all, and I thought that if these actors were good enough to be playing internationally, then I would be more than happy to see some of their work.
At that moment, a foreign woman dressed up in an amazing Elizabethan dress came out. She was talking to a local woman, who by her conservative business attire, looked like someone who was producing or directing the play. I watched the two of them walk through the beautiful garden in the middle and towards the shopping center, but since they didn't look my way, I didn't have a chance to say hello. I made a note to come back there to see a movie and a play on the same day in the future, then went to the nearest subway stop to get home; I was pretty beat, so I didn't have the energy to make it back home on foot.
I never got the chance to go back there before my wife got pregnant, but just like the art museum from Then and Now 18, I hope that day comes in the future.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I ate lunch.
I played video games with my son.
I watched TV.
I did the dishes.
I played cars with my son.
I watched DVDs with my wife.
I watched TV.
I ate dinner.
I did the dishes again.
I watched DVDs with my wife.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I slept.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Then and Now 36 - Odds and Ends 4
Then and Now 36 - Odds and Ends 4
Time: Before I got married.
In the last week of my hostel stay, I was walking the long street between the hostel and the junction train station, where I met a lot of my tutor students and friends. On the way, I saw a man approaching me, so I slowed down to say hello. "I'm really sorry to bother you," he said, "but I immigrated here a few months ago, and I've completely run out of money. I haven't eaten anything in days. Can you help me?"
I didn't have much money to give, he was dressed well enough, and he didn't have the low energy of a starving man. But I didn't turn him away, and for a few reasons:
- I was dressed well enough as well, so I knew that what he was wearing was no indication of his plight.
- I, too, was running out of money. I knew what it felt like to have to eat cheaply and sparsely, and to watch a static amount of money dwindle slowly with every meal I ate.
- Most importantly, even though he might have been faking, just the chance that he might have been in a situation like me was reason enough for me to share what I had.
I told him it was no problem, and took him to a convenience store just across the street. I told him to go ahead and pick what he wanted to eat, and I would take care of it. He smiled broadly and rushed around the store, picking up a sandwich, some bread, and a box of juice. After I paid for him, I gave him the equivalent of about $5, in case he couldn't find someone else to help him. He thanked me over and over, and after we walked outside, he asked me if I was interested in meeting some women that he knew. I said sure, and gave him my phone number. He punched it into his own cellphone (kind of a red flag, but I had one too and was also low on money), then said that he would get back to me as soon as possible. I thanked him, then continued on to the train station.
I never got a call from him or his girls, but I never got any robocalls or telemarketers either, so I'm guessing he was on the level. Didn't matter either way: either he was lying and I gave an otherwise nice guy a free meal, or he was telling the truth and I helped him to survive another day or two.
-----
In the first few days during my stay at the hostel, I made a concerted and earnest effort to talk to anyone and everyone I could while in the dorms. Men, women, foreigners, locals, didn't matter: I wanted to make friends, and practice being the new man I had set out to be. One of these great people was another foreigner, who made his living as an international salesman of beauty products. I don't remember his name because I only spoke to him once, but he was a man in his thirties or fourties, had an ever-present smile and a cheerful personality, and English was his second language. We spent most of our time talking about his business, selling beauty products either individually, or in bulk to companies all over the world. He offered me a look through one of his brochures, and I flipped through a couple of the pages to see what he had to sell. I stopped on a smiling family over an ad for some toothpaste, and I asked him, "Do you know these people?"
He smiled and said, "No, they're just models."
The best part of our time together was how we talked: this man was from a country whose language I had studied for years, and he was studying the local language like I was. And of course, he also spoke some English, being the international language and all. The result was the two of us constantly switching the languages we were using to speak, mixing and matching words we knew into sentences that probably sounded like gibberish to anybody but us. I felt very satisfied and happy that we were able to talk for so long in that puzzle-like way.
-----
I got an email from a girl, Enid, while I was living at my apartment, and she wanted to meet up with me. When I met her, she was very shy and didn't talk much, probably because of her weight. While we were walking the streets outside of the main station, I got a call on my cell. It was Andrew, and he wanted to know if I wanted to hang out that night. I asked Enid if she wanted to hang out with some other friends and have dinner together, and she said it was ok. Shortly after, Andrew, his girlfriend and a friend of his met up with Enid and me, and we went to a nearby department store with a great restaurant at the top.
We didn't want to walk all the way around to the front of the building, so Andrew beckoned us all to the employee entrance in the back, and we snuck up about five or ten floors of stairs, our footsteps and hushed voices echoing throughout the massive shaft. When we got to the restaurant's floor, Andrew peeked his head in and waited until the coast was clear, then we all crept through the doorway and into the restaurant. We got seated, and I tried to talk to Enid several times in English, but it was difficult pulling stuff out of her, so I switched to the local language. She still seemed really shy, so I introduced her formally to Andrew and co., and she seemed to open up quite a bit more.
My dinner was a delicious plate of breaded meat, and while Andrew and them ate heartily, Enid really took it easy, and quietly, with a salad and water. I engaged with everyone I could that night, person to person, friend to friend, until it was time for us all to go home. That was the last time I ever saw Andrew, and the only time I ever saw Enid, on that great night.
-----
My bud and I got bored one night at his aunt's place, so we started channel surfing. Eventually, we came to a channel that was flickered and scrambled for the few times it came in for more than ten seconds. I asked him what channel it was, maybe a premium movie channel or something, and he said it was a porn channel. I laughed and said that it probably wasn't something his aunt would be interested in paying for. We were watching on one of those old CRT TVs that weigh eight thousand pounds and take up the entire room, so the picture didn't turn completely blue or white like new TVs do when they can't find a channel. So we watched the scrambled program for quite a while, trying to pick out what was going on.
"Is that...?" my bud started to ask before trailing off.
"Uh... I think it's an elbow," I answered.
After a few minutes, I told my bud that I had an idea. I picked up a coat hangar, then I put one arm out and raised the other above my head, and lifted up a knee. "Ok, you stand next to the window and start waving your arms," I said. "Maybe the signal will come in better." My bud laughed loudly, then played along by standing on his toes a little to the right of the TV, and slowly waved his arms. A little bit later, the picture seemed to come in really clear for about five seconds.
"Yeah!" my bud said.
"Yep!" I replied. "She's goin' at it."
-----
I went to the main city one night to a stop that I had never been to. It was night, and I exited the subway station to find a ring of apartment buildings in front of me. Around the ring wound a circular street, and on its outer edges were a string of stores. Nestled in the middle of the independent stores, I found a huge shopping mall opposite the subway station and over the ring of apartments. It had a grand entrance with a huge escalator leading up, and hundreds of stores that I don't remember much about. But this experience wasn't about the mall; it was about what happened when I was heading home. On the subway train, I was standing and grasping the handhold above me, looking at the open door of the car. And after only a few seconds, he came in.
He was a foreigner, looking to be in his early to mid 30s, with short dark hair and a black turtleneck sweater and dark jeans. He walked in, and establishing eye contact with me for just a fraction of a second, he turned his back on me and stood with one hand holding a leather loop above him, and the other behind his back like a soldier standing at ease. I figured he was going to be another one of those typical foreigners who avoided contact with anyone who wasn't a local woman, but then, he turned his head around to look at me.
I smiled and raised my head slightly in greeting. He locked eyes with me for a half second, then he darted a quick look at my spiked hair. Then, his eyes slowly traveled down to my black shirt, my blue jeans and finally to my black sneakers, lingering on each piece of clothing for a full second. Finally, after slowly drawing his gaze back up to my eyes once more, he wrinkled his nose, bared his teeth slightly and scowled intensely before turning back to the door.
I blinked a few times in surprise, then looked to my left at a surprised local woman who was watching the entire scene play out from beginning to end. I shrugged at her, then stood my ground, staring down the back of the idiot's head with narrow eyes and a smug look on my face. Without looking back, he got off at the next stop. Typical sex-starved foreigner abroad who couldn't stand competition from people better-looking than he was; it felt good to be me.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the game.
I ate lunch.
I did the dishes.
I watched TV.
I played Play-Doh with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I showered my son.
I started a load of laundry.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I slept.
Time: Before I got married.
In the last week of my hostel stay, I was walking the long street between the hostel and the junction train station, where I met a lot of my tutor students and friends. On the way, I saw a man approaching me, so I slowed down to say hello. "I'm really sorry to bother you," he said, "but I immigrated here a few months ago, and I've completely run out of money. I haven't eaten anything in days. Can you help me?"
I didn't have much money to give, he was dressed well enough, and he didn't have the low energy of a starving man. But I didn't turn him away, and for a few reasons:
- I was dressed well enough as well, so I knew that what he was wearing was no indication of his plight.
- I, too, was running out of money. I knew what it felt like to have to eat cheaply and sparsely, and to watch a static amount of money dwindle slowly with every meal I ate.
- Most importantly, even though he might have been faking, just the chance that he might have been in a situation like me was reason enough for me to share what I had.
I told him it was no problem, and took him to a convenience store just across the street. I told him to go ahead and pick what he wanted to eat, and I would take care of it. He smiled broadly and rushed around the store, picking up a sandwich, some bread, and a box of juice. After I paid for him, I gave him the equivalent of about $5, in case he couldn't find someone else to help him. He thanked me over and over, and after we walked outside, he asked me if I was interested in meeting some women that he knew. I said sure, and gave him my phone number. He punched it into his own cellphone (kind of a red flag, but I had one too and was also low on money), then said that he would get back to me as soon as possible. I thanked him, then continued on to the train station.
I never got a call from him or his girls, but I never got any robocalls or telemarketers either, so I'm guessing he was on the level. Didn't matter either way: either he was lying and I gave an otherwise nice guy a free meal, or he was telling the truth and I helped him to survive another day or two.
-----
In the first few days during my stay at the hostel, I made a concerted and earnest effort to talk to anyone and everyone I could while in the dorms. Men, women, foreigners, locals, didn't matter: I wanted to make friends, and practice being the new man I had set out to be. One of these great people was another foreigner, who made his living as an international salesman of beauty products. I don't remember his name because I only spoke to him once, but he was a man in his thirties or fourties, had an ever-present smile and a cheerful personality, and English was his second language. We spent most of our time talking about his business, selling beauty products either individually, or in bulk to companies all over the world. He offered me a look through one of his brochures, and I flipped through a couple of the pages to see what he had to sell. I stopped on a smiling family over an ad for some toothpaste, and I asked him, "Do you know these people?"
He smiled and said, "No, they're just models."
The best part of our time together was how we talked: this man was from a country whose language I had studied for years, and he was studying the local language like I was. And of course, he also spoke some English, being the international language and all. The result was the two of us constantly switching the languages we were using to speak, mixing and matching words we knew into sentences that probably sounded like gibberish to anybody but us. I felt very satisfied and happy that we were able to talk for so long in that puzzle-like way.
-----
I got an email from a girl, Enid, while I was living at my apartment, and she wanted to meet up with me. When I met her, she was very shy and didn't talk much, probably because of her weight. While we were walking the streets outside of the main station, I got a call on my cell. It was Andrew, and he wanted to know if I wanted to hang out that night. I asked Enid if she wanted to hang out with some other friends and have dinner together, and she said it was ok. Shortly after, Andrew, his girlfriend and a friend of his met up with Enid and me, and we went to a nearby department store with a great restaurant at the top.
We didn't want to walk all the way around to the front of the building, so Andrew beckoned us all to the employee entrance in the back, and we snuck up about five or ten floors of stairs, our footsteps and hushed voices echoing throughout the massive shaft. When we got to the restaurant's floor, Andrew peeked his head in and waited until the coast was clear, then we all crept through the doorway and into the restaurant. We got seated, and I tried to talk to Enid several times in English, but it was difficult pulling stuff out of her, so I switched to the local language. She still seemed really shy, so I introduced her formally to Andrew and co., and she seemed to open up quite a bit more.
My dinner was a delicious plate of breaded meat, and while Andrew and them ate heartily, Enid really took it easy, and quietly, with a salad and water. I engaged with everyone I could that night, person to person, friend to friend, until it was time for us all to go home. That was the last time I ever saw Andrew, and the only time I ever saw Enid, on that great night.
-----
My bud and I got bored one night at his aunt's place, so we started channel surfing. Eventually, we came to a channel that was flickered and scrambled for the few times it came in for more than ten seconds. I asked him what channel it was, maybe a premium movie channel or something, and he said it was a porn channel. I laughed and said that it probably wasn't something his aunt would be interested in paying for. We were watching on one of those old CRT TVs that weigh eight thousand pounds and take up the entire room, so the picture didn't turn completely blue or white like new TVs do when they can't find a channel. So we watched the scrambled program for quite a while, trying to pick out what was going on.
"Is that...?" my bud started to ask before trailing off.
"Uh... I think it's an elbow," I answered.
After a few minutes, I told my bud that I had an idea. I picked up a coat hangar, then I put one arm out and raised the other above my head, and lifted up a knee. "Ok, you stand next to the window and start waving your arms," I said. "Maybe the signal will come in better." My bud laughed loudly, then played along by standing on his toes a little to the right of the TV, and slowly waved his arms. A little bit later, the picture seemed to come in really clear for about five seconds.
"Yeah!" my bud said.
"Yep!" I replied. "She's goin' at it."
-----
I went to the main city one night to a stop that I had never been to. It was night, and I exited the subway station to find a ring of apartment buildings in front of me. Around the ring wound a circular street, and on its outer edges were a string of stores. Nestled in the middle of the independent stores, I found a huge shopping mall opposite the subway station and over the ring of apartments. It had a grand entrance with a huge escalator leading up, and hundreds of stores that I don't remember much about. But this experience wasn't about the mall; it was about what happened when I was heading home. On the subway train, I was standing and grasping the handhold above me, looking at the open door of the car. And after only a few seconds, he came in.
He was a foreigner, looking to be in his early to mid 30s, with short dark hair and a black turtleneck sweater and dark jeans. He walked in, and establishing eye contact with me for just a fraction of a second, he turned his back on me and stood with one hand holding a leather loop above him, and the other behind his back like a soldier standing at ease. I figured he was going to be another one of those typical foreigners who avoided contact with anyone who wasn't a local woman, but then, he turned his head around to look at me.
I smiled and raised my head slightly in greeting. He locked eyes with me for a half second, then he darted a quick look at my spiked hair. Then, his eyes slowly traveled down to my black shirt, my blue jeans and finally to my black sneakers, lingering on each piece of clothing for a full second. Finally, after slowly drawing his gaze back up to my eyes once more, he wrinkled his nose, bared his teeth slightly and scowled intensely before turning back to the door.
I blinked a few times in surprise, then looked to my left at a surprised local woman who was watching the entire scene play out from beginning to end. I shrugged at her, then stood my ground, staring down the back of the idiot's head with narrow eyes and a smug look on my face. Without looking back, he got off at the next stop. Typical sex-starved foreigner abroad who couldn't stand competition from people better-looking than he was; it felt good to be me.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the game.
I ate lunch.
I did the dishes.
I watched TV.
I played Play-Doh with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I showered my son.
I started a load of laundry.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I slept.
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