Just when I hit my moment of deepest despair, when it seemed all the world, including tuk-tuk drivers and email-writing boys alike, hated my guts and wanted me to die, the unexpected happened:
Mike fucking posted a comment on my blog.
Many of you may not know Mike, who HASN'T UPDATED HIS OWN SITE since MAY of LAST fucking YEAR. Suffice to say that if you don't know Mike now, you probably never will. Allow me to paint you a picture in lieu of his own words: It is 3 AM. A tall, wiry man wearing jeans his mom picked out and the inevitable t-shirt bearing inscrutable geek inside jokes, sits intently at his homemade computer, joystick in hand, twitching his thumbs and laughing maniacally on occasion. He owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Cowboy Beebop. He makes really good baked salmon from his mother's recipe and has long red hair down to his ass. He likes cats but is allergic to them, so instead he makes small cat noises to the demise of the FREE FUCKING WORLD. This is no average Mike, people.
Even so, it may surprize you, dear readers, that I should be uplifted from the mire of this existence by so trifling a thing as a comment. In that case, let me inform you that it was for want of Mike's promised comments that I sought out enetation in the first place. The man begged me to provide a means by which he could shamelessly slather the internet with cynical exaggerations and really awful puns in response to the goings-on of my daily life. But his attentions could not be bought with mere PHP. No doubt Mike was busy selflessly spreading his omnipotent invective to others in need. Thus I wallowed in the scudge of my woeful persistence, posting day by day, hopeful for a morsel of wit or even a reproach to break the monotony--anything from clever procrastinatorial digits--in vain. Four months passed slowly as ever, each day twisting the knife until Glory of Glory and Saint of Saints, Mike spared a moment of his precious time to utter forth a satisfyingly ass-kissing comment, thereby saving himself from the guilt of my withering state. Finally.
I have big news. I have triumphed over the falling dream! You know the falling dream--that one where you're Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom, or maybe just Paris Hilton in really high stilettos, and something happens to make you fall and you just keep falling and falling? Well, I always woke up with a jerk just before hitting the ground, and I was frustrated because I never got to find out what happened. Then someone told me that people actually died in their sleep if they slept through the fall, and I was 6 years old at the time, so I believed them and was quite happy to jerk awake.
But last night, I was an FBI agent chasing after a nefarious rock star in a room full of stage sets. We were close to catching him, but I was in a vulnerable spot and needed to get down behind a facade. So I jumped--it didn't look that far, but I just kept falling and falling and even the nefarious rock star guy peeked out from his hiding place to go, "Shit, she's gonna die." Being the good-natured nefarious rock star that he was, he called one of my FBI agent friends over to help me but he was too late. I hit the ground, rolled and bounced a little to spread out the impact, and was fine, if a little stressed out. They insisted that I lay down for a while, and suddenly the rock star was deemed "not so nefarious" and became part of the team. Then I realized that two of my FBI agent guy friends were in love with me. It's so nice to be taken care of by beautiful, muscle-bound men and a rock star after you jump off a stage set.
P.S.> "Woke with a jerk" refers to me waking suddenly in a cold sweat, not to me waking up with a mean guy in my bed. Pun totally not intended.
Last night I had several dreams, but for some reason the only one I can remember is probably the most disturbing one. I was part of some other, wierd family and I had brothers and sisters. My father was involved with a mob of sorts, and he did something to piss them off. He went over to a mob guy's house and the mob guy beat the shit out of him and then totally cut his kidneys out. Ew. The rest of our family (unknowingly) went over to the mob family house as planned to meet our father, and they greeted us kindly even though my father lay in the corner dying in agony. I spent the remainder of the dream trying to find a way to call the ambulance without the mob family realizing it, as my mother tried to convince me that it was a bad idea to call an ambulance, presumably because we would die, too.
What the hell, brain? Pick something interesting and fun for once. Something I want to remember.
Speaking of dreams, whenever I have to pee at night, I dream that I am looking for a bathroom. It's awful--I know that I have to pee, but because I'm dreaming that I'm looking for a bathroom, my body doesn't see fit to wake me so I can actually pee. So anyway, I walk around the same building for what seems like hours as people try to interrupt me or I keep thinking of other things I have to do, and I keep finding rooms with toilets which are, for some reason, unusable, or I find bathrooms with showers and sinks, but no toilets, and when I finally find a toilet and sit down, I actually dream that I CAN'T PEE. THERE IS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG, HERE, PEOPLE. I CAN ALWAYS PEE.
Why is it that boys, when writing emails about dating and relationships, feel it necessary to make those emails obscure and potentially offensive, yet not mean them that way? I would like to know, because y'all are damned skilled at it. Those emails never sound the way you intend them, just so you know.
Dear Japanese people I meet,
What the hell is so funny about the age game? Do you think I really want to be the special guest on "Watch a Foreigner Guess How Old Asian People Are?" Guess again, 'cause it's NOT FUNNY.
Love and sake,
Shana
In other news, I realize that I am way behind in writing some people. I am sorry. Life is in the way, in a good way. Good night, my friends.
I have felt surprizingly energetic today. We had shorter classes and I took great delight in teaching my last lessons to the third year students at Shimanto. I will miss them, but I especially enjoyed teaching pickup lines to the 3-1 class as a "just for fun" lesson. We did a mad lib where the students had to choose celebrities and various adjectives and we ended up with some great lines. One notable was, "You have a hard face," also, "You have a big arm!" It was great to see their faces when they realized what was going on.
Then we cleaned the school to prepare for graduation. I jumped right in and it felt so good to move for a change. Plus I think I totally kicked some students' asses. I was all cleaning and they were all trying to avoid doing any actual work and they were all like, "Holy shit, can the ALT clean or what!" Totally!
We had English Club for the first time in the New Year this evening. Michika brought treats, and Paige and I brought photos and dorian candy. The whole group shared a moment of tense silence as we each chewed the ill-reputed dorian caramel, but it turned out to be "not bad", even "sweet". Then we enjoyed eating the good treats Michika had brought and flipping through my pics. A new member joined today; she lived in America for 10 years, got divorced, and moved back to Taisho with her daughter. I imagine her life must be very hard right now. There were tears in her eyes when she told us about coming back here and I hope we can give her some comfort.
I keep trying to come up with good ways to chronicle my Thailand trip but words fail me. Perhaps photos are a better medium. Expect more pics as I go through them over and over and miss Thailand. I think my strategy will be to post a few at a time on the photolog and then put them all into a set later.
Life here has been slowly winding its way back to normal. I keep wondering why it's so hard for me to change myself in the ways I feel are necessary for me to be happy. If changes in attitude really are as simple as "do it," then why am I not suddenly satisifed? Can one really just change one's attitude at the drop of a hat? As I sort through my behaviors and choices, it becomes apparent that I avoid/dread a lot of things for fear of discomfort and failure, and for fear of making the wrong choice. This is why it takes me so long to choose something as simple as my pizza toppings. What has scared me into this little corner? If I have determined that the risk is worth it, why can I not then be happy taking the risk and, subsequently, be happy with the results?
Woes of the not-so-recently-graduated-who-still-haven't-a-fucking-clue.
I made the mistake of buying a whole bag of mini Nestle Crunch (TM) bars last week and I have eaten almost all of them singlehandedly. Apparently today was the worst day of the year, so I suppose I should count myself lucky that all I did was eat chocolate.
I was dismayed to discover that Combustible Orange has gone on a more serious hiatus. I like that word. Hiatus. Anyway, the drawing-type person, Eric, cut out after like 3000 weeks of no comics. Frank, the writing-type guy, has already found a replacement and they are working out details now. While I am happy that Frank will continue to be awesome, and suspect that the new drawing-type guy will also be awesome, I will miss Eric's style and mourn the loss of Super Demolition Christ. I hope SDC's spirit, if not his actual awesomeness, will rock ass in the new comic. *Sniff! I had only just discovered SDC--I mean, CO.
Apologies for the unannounced hiatus. I was in Kochi city for the week attending the Mid-Year conference and partying like a crazy fool. I have some lovely news--3 more of my photos were added to the Mirror Project! They're all pictures in mirrored tiles: one, two, and three. Now please excuse me while I go recover from the week!
It was an act of solidarity. Three women set out on a quest of near epic proportions after a frustrating attempt at sight-seeing. We jumped in a tuk-tuk to Patpong Road, the nighttime neighborhood for sex hustlers and bustlers. It was still light outside and the night market was only beginning its sisyphean construction of scaffoldings and tables to court Bangkok's seedier clientele. We had hoped to skip the nitty-gritty of Patpong and cut right to the chase in a shady little shop. Unfortunately for our shy souls, no such shops were open at 5 o'clock in the afternoon. So we explored a few streets, hopeful for rabbits, but instead found only the Pussy Palace. Three disappointed gals gave up and went to Starbucks for the comfort only chocolate and coffee can bring. Then we hopped in a tuk-tuk back to Koh San Road.
It was the tuk-tuk ride from hell. The man greeted us with a coy smile. We should have been cautious that he was so willing to meet our price after another turned us down, but we had to high-tail it outta seedy Patpong asap. So I and my companions squished into the little death-trap and smiled at our driver. He took off with promise, telling us about his family in Chiang Mai and flirting. Then he had to stop at a light. Our driver chose the exact moment the light turned green to reveal his true self--dude popped a wheelie in a tuk-tuk. He looked back and grinned his signature shit-eating grin. 'Did ya see that?' We smiled warily into his rear-view mirror and got a better hold on the railing.
Things were going ok for a while, until he realized we were being followed by two police cycles. He stopped and jumped out, which bewildered us further. Then we nodded in relief as he began to kick the rear license plate back down into place. That would be the end of the wheelies, hah! Sadly, my relief was too hasty. The driver swerved erratically around the intersection and we continued on our merry way, popping wheelies nearly every time we stopped and occasionally cutting off other tuk-tuks as we wove in and out of traffic lanes. We waved apologies to other tuk-tuk passengers as we elbowed our way through Bangkok, resigned to our fate. When we finally stepped out of the tuk-tuk, hearts pounding and knuckles white and bloodless, he sprouted a cocky smile, declared his love for Paige and kissed Angela's hand. I got a big fat nothin', but hey, I was just glad to be out of the tuk-tuk. As we were leaving the scene of undoubtedly many crimes, the police were approaching to tell him to move his vehicle.
I woke this morning to a very strange orange light filtering into my room. From the sliding door, I could see that the light was coming from a brilliant sunrise; the sky was half blue, half stormclouds. As I left for work, a rainbow sprouted near the school and I regretted leaving my camera at home.
My house is now wonderfully clean! Annette brought her mom over so we could meet her and all go out to dinner together. I cleaned like a mofo so that she wouldn't think her daughter lived near a complete heathen, and it turns out all I really need is a deadline. I should have guests more often.
Genki Seinenkai, the fundraising musical we put on each year in Kochi, is about to start. The directors have already picked a theme, but I think it would be awesome if we did King Lear, because then we could call it King Rear!
Picture how pathetic this is: A young woman lives in a tiny Japanese village. Comes home from work and finally cleans her apartment and does laundry, after, like, eternity, then spends the rest of the night trying not to eat junk food and watching her very last DVD of Sex and the City. I am a slug. Smmmurrrelllllggggcccchhhh! I am impervious to salt, muahhahah!
Well, the good news is that no one has said anything about the hair. The bad news is that I have no idea what that means in a passive society. Perhaps it's so bad that they feel sorry for me and don't want to mention it to me for fear of embarrassment. On the other hand, maybe they simply haven't noticed; they regularly confuse me with Paige, who is a good 3 inches taller and has dark hair and eyes. I think I'll settle for ignorance is bliss.
Oh, and here's your flippin' photo. Take comfort in my complete humiliation on the internets, all of them.
I've done it. I, Shana West, resident representative of the United States of America in Taisho, Japan and shaper of young minds have made a most ridiculous and semi-permanent error: I colored my hair.
I thought it would be a good time to go a bit lighter since I could use the hot Thai sun as an excuse, but I don't think the hot Thai sun can do what I did to my hair today. The box said golden blonde but the result is more like carrot and Sunny Delight vomit. I am hoping beyond hope that washing it five times tomorrow morning will pull some of the disgusting troll hair orange out of it so I don't have to listen to my coworkers say things like, "Oh, Shana, new hair!", which is their way of indirectly saying, "What the holy fuck did you do to yourself?"
Well, I am finally home and settled in after my trip. Thailand was full of so many things that I'm not sure where to start. We spent our first week in Bangkok and environs, including a day trip to Kanchanaburi and another to Ayuthaya. Then we moved south to Koh Tao, or Turtle Island, where I completed my open water and advanced open water diver courses. Over the next week I intend to rehash the highlights of my trip, but for now I just want to enjoy being back in my messy apartment, with blessed internet access that doesn't completely suck ass. I thought my ISDN was bad!
I am now an offical PADI certified open water diver, and I just completed the first half of the advanced course. Scuba diving rocks ass; I am so glad I decided to give it a go. Today we studied navigation with a compass, went on a naturalist dive, and on a night dive. Cool phosphoresence! Sadly, I am stuck with tonsilitis, bleh. But I am loving it here on Koh Tao, anyway.
We are in the gulf of Thailand as opposed to the Indian Ocean, so we haven't felt any of the ill effects. As for disease, the touristy areas are mostly safe, and I certainly don't drink the water! Thanks all so much for your concern!