Quick look
3 Replies
Monthly Archives: January 2006
Driving on the left
Back in Starbucks. Wanted to make sure I uploaded some pictures to guard against my computer dying and losing all. Now, I just wait f0r the upload.
More food, more family. I swear his mother is making up for 20+ years’ of meals not cooked. And, the woman can cook.
The family is subsiding a bit, having to go back to work after the holidays. For me growing up, Chinese New Year was like a novelty holiday, a mere blip on the screen of “oh yeah, there are other people in the world who don’t groove to the Jesus/Christmas/Easter family calendar.” Here it is a bona fide shindig holiday. There’s even sales in the stores, like the day after Chrismas.
I may not have ever felt quite this white and Western.
The remaining family is still planning outings for the return of the native. The lavish attention is making me a bit jumpy, but I try to roll with the punches of offered kindnesses. I do feel completely unworthy of the mother’s gift and of Auntie Fay’s.
The only real difficulty at all here is natural — the actual residents of any area never know from the desires of tourists thrilling on the idea of the exoticness of their home town. If your biggest problem is not having anyone willing to show you the sights where you are most apt to get hosed by jacked prices and mediocre fare, I guess you maybe have hit a bit of Shangri-La.
Driving on the left
Back in Starbucks. Wanted to make sure I uploaded some pictures to guard against my computer dying and losing all. Now, I just wait f0r the upload.
More food, more family. I swear his mother is making up for 20+ years’ of meals not cooked. And, the woman can cook.
The family is subsiding a bit, having to go back to work after the holidays. For me growing up, Chinese New Year was like a novelty holiday, a mere blip on the screen of “oh yeah, there are other people in the world who don’t groove to the Jesus/Christmas/Easter family calendar.” Here it is a bona fide shindig holiday. There’s even sales in the stores, like the day after Chrismas.
I may not have ever felt quite this white and Western.
The remaining family is still planning outings for the return of the native. The lavish attention is making me a bit jumpy, but I try to roll with the punches of offered kindnesses. I do feel completely unworthy of the mother’s gift and of Auntie Fay’s.
The only real difficulty at all here is natural — the actual residents of any area never know from the desires of tourists thrilling on the idea of the exoticness of their home town. If your biggest problem is not having anyone willing to show you the sights where you are most apt to get hosed by jacked prices and mediocre fare, I guess you maybe have hit a bit of Shangri-La.
Starbucks, Georgetown, Malaysia
The collective computer jones caught up with M. and me, so his cousin has brought us to a wi-fi connected Starbucks.
There is much to much crazy to report. I’ve been eating for days straight. Apparently, large Chinese families are nine times bigger than large Irish Catholic families.
I seemed to have passed the inspection and conspiratorial chatting in a Chinese dialect I could never hope to understand of assorted aunts and one mother. They seem to like me well enough in the company of the returning prodigal prince.
Goddamnit though, the food here is totally amazing. All of the aunts and mom have been cooking madly and nothing at all has caused a polite smile and discrete drop into a napkin. Everything is great. Weird.
Food is apparently a national pastime.
Miles to go and airport after airport
We’re in the lovely Singapore airport. I might move to the Singapore airport, since all of my needs can be met here. I showered. I had a cup of tea, an English cucumber, mini, crusts-cut-off sandwich and a bit of pound cake. I have the Internet. And, M.’s with me. Yeah, I’m moving to the airport.
The napping space we hired didn’t really work for either one of us, so a move to the airport will entail some insomniacal pacing the terminals. You can’t expect everything.
Didn’t realize the itinerary included a stop in Seoul, Korea. As photos that will eventually be uploaded attest, the most outstanding feature of the Seoul airport to me was a Dunkin’ Donuts. Sadly, without the local currency and the desire to have no more caffeine to increase the likelihood of rest, I passed on a cup of DD joe.
I had not seen one since I got in my car last March, bought an extra large and headed west. DD has not, as far as I know, crossed the Rocky Mountains in the U.S. of A. You definitely cannot find a Dunkin’ Donuts anywhere in the Bay Area, and there few comparable-style donuts. I brought their beans to my sister in Wyoming once. Still and all, they’ve made it to South Korea.
The start of the trip was auspicious. I hired a limo company that does work with my employer to get a mildly discounted, sleek ride to the airport. We scored the three seats in a row for just us two on an almost completely full plane.
Other than that, still having not made it to our destination and having lost a day, I can only say, Asia is way the fuck faraway from North America.
airport
Sitting, waiting, anticipating.
Farewell my America. Happy new year of the dog to all my Chinese peeps.
Getting out of work was tough, but among the rush job, I got my review. These people like me. They really like me.
Weird.
Worry, worry, worry
First, I think Barbara Boxer wants me to like her. She sent me email explaining why Samuel Alito wouldn’t be a good Supreme Court Justice. But, I already sent her an email saying the same thing. It’s like she wants me to think we’re all cool and shit.
I don’t know, though, Barbara and her aides write a good email. But, like, I don’t think GWB would, like, be her myspace friend or anything, so I don’t think he’ll read her email. And, all the other guys on the Senate who are on myspace and friends with George, they probably won’t read it either.
Fucking myspace, I mean, U.S. government.
That all worries me.
Then, there’s the trip to Malaysia. Sure, warm tropical beaches, chicken satay, exoticism, photo ops, that’s all cool and stuff. But, there’s also the matter of the relatives dropping by from miles around to celebrate the new year and view the return of the prodigal. In terms of numbers, I figured my family was off the hook crazy by weight and volume of activity around a holiday. M.’s done that and survived.
No he’s topping me on the occasion of the Chinese New Year. There ain’t gonna be cat-swinging room for all the aunts and cousins who will be around. In their midst will be I, who, I believe, to them will be”the chubby white chick” with awesomely horrific attempts to stammer out Mandarin pleasantries.
Yup, more worries.
Finally, there’s work. What can I say? I want to slack, I yearn, I pine, I howl at the moon in vainglorious attempts to harness a slacker mind. I just can’t fucking do it. Perhaps the torment that was my mother and her attitude toward work was rubbed a bit to ingrained into my hide. I lean toward not exactly workaholicness, but giving a bit too much of a shit all the same.
And, yet, I plan to leave for a bit on a true blue real vacation (something I took precious few of in my last stint working for the man).
Worse yet, I leave immediately after sitting for a yearly review that has been calendarized at a time when I haven’t worked for a year yet. One of the self-evaluation questions asks as to how I have fostered camraderie and work and play well with others. (OK, fostering camraderie is in there, but working/playing isn’t. Artistic license.)
The only answer I can think of so far is, “Since joining this organization I have fostered a sense of camraderie and esprit to corps by not stabbing anyone.” (Of course, lacking historical context, they likely couldn’t match my level of amusement if I were to write that.)
So, yeah, worry, worry, worry.
Politics, travel with my boy-o, work, what’s not to obsess unhealthily about?
News analysis
Who’s fucking crazier — Harry Belafonte hugging Hugo Chavez for the cameras or Pat Robertson for calling for Chavez’ assisination?
Either one is looking for the assholic rhetoric of the year award.
More hack, less thought
The other trite little premise I have to write about really deserves a picture. File this under, living with …men, kids, roommates, squirrels, furries, geriatrics…is so damned wacky.
I came home to the bottom of some delicious Costco purchased snacks called something like “Aussie bites.” They’re like cute little cakey, granola bars in the shape of mini-muffins. Kind of a two bite item, unless you enjoy the chipmunk swell of a full face.
Anyway, in the clear plastic container is a crescent shaped mini-muffin wth a CSI-worthy topography. Evidence of bite marks. Only there’re two such crescent-shaped mini-muffins.
Of course, I am wholy and completely incapable of not commenting on noticing such a thing. Each, I was told, was bitten and put back to save for later. The explanation for how that could happen twice (instead of making the time for biting the second one actually be the “later” of mythology), “You wouldn’t have this to talk about, if I did that.”
I love when a relationship provides you with schtick.
Other than that, I have a confession to get off my chest. I brought a resume home to read before an interview I am to participate in first thing in the morning. I have not read such resume.
Why?
Because I was reading a bit of fiction written not just by a “Furry,” but by a macrophiliac. The sheer, unbounded imagination of the freakishness of the human race never ceases to impress me.
It was an episode of CSIon SpikeTV what put in the mood to be studying up on furries. They were toss around lingo like yiff, and I had to know if it were true. It is.
I was going to mockingly link to the furry fanfic-dom I was perusing. But, who the fuck am I to mock, each their own and all that. Though, I just can’t fucking wrap my head around the furry, frottage fantasy, let alone one that adds the giant twist.
Bordering on hackneyed
I’m sitting here with the TV on in the background. There’s a commercial on CNN for the “King James Bible on DVD.” Fair enough, right, if I gots books on tape, Jesus fans should be able to get their multimedia freak on.
But, the voiceover says “Guaranteed you will be inspired, or your money back.”
Yeah, money back guarantee on your spiritual experience. That’s a fucking great DVD.