It was somewhere around November 2009 when I reached the breaking point. Up until that moment in my life, I’ve always viewed life and myself as something that has to be constantly worked on. The perpetual improvement machine as I believed in or the “biggest and hardest MMORPG ever created” is how I joked to my friends.
Before that point was reached, I’d spend every second of my free time working on something. Edit some photographs, write some code, read up on new technology and just generally gain more knowledge. I did not want to become a couch potato, or someone who just mindlessly take whatever the pundits on some media decides to shove down my spinal cord.
My mental resolve broke
I simply couldn’t go on anymore. It was a moment in my life where I just thought: “Why so serious?”. So instead of the usual “what should I improve on next?” the question I ask myself became: “Which vice do I want to indulge in today?”
I am sitting here typing and I am thinking about how this impacts my life. At first, I didn’t think it’s a good place to be at but on second thought, who says this is bad? I’ve only known hard work all throughout my life, maybe that’s exactly what’s wrong. Why am I working hard through effort when I can achieve the same conclusion through some smarts added to the effort?
Regret is the meanest mother fucker. Followed by the bipolar way you thrash around in life after the major decision is announced to everyone.
The period of doubt is like an old fling that you’ve gotten well acquainted with. Every time she leaves you you tell yourself no more, but your emotions swirls out of control every time you see her at your door. The only thing keeping you sane is the stone cold fact that you are married with a wife and she’s watching you from the kitchen.
Except I don’t have a wife.
“THIS IS HUGE!” Fred told me over the phone, not sure if he is in Vancouver or Montreal, lots of siren in the background. I think I made some feeble attempt to try and make it seem less exciting, I was still in that stage of denial where things haven’t hit me yet. In fact, I had such a huge headache during the weekend that I don’t think I was thinking much if at all.
There were certain things that I did and regretted due to the roller coaster of emotions and doubts, but this time I am mature enough to go back and apologize. I understand that people will understand. This time, there will be no regrets, no hurt feelings. This time I am going to do it MY WAY!
I know this feeling. I see you and you me. Let’s make things happen.
I handed my resignation in on April 30th, 2010. Friday of last week. Friday because that’s when Matrox usually gives their employees their pink slip. If you feel that I’ve been absent from the net, this is why. That and a crappy game called Evony that kept me mindlessly clicking away while not at work. If you are a Matrox employee and you read this. My manager would like you to keep quiet until Tuesday so he can announce it himself, (but really, who are we kidding? This kind of thing can never be contained)
The financial disaster only served to delay the inevitable by a year. Originally, I was shocked into self preservation mode to stay on the job but as time went by, it became increasingly obvious to me that I can no longer work on a job where I can’t see any hope.
Hope: The deep rooted desire to be always improving.
When going to work is as easy as spreading peanut butter on toast, it is time to change. I’ve done similar things throughout my career, completely quit before I found the next job in the ladder. The period of intense change and rapid fire action always seems to bring out the best in me. My true character only reveals himself during periods of intense duress And before that moment, I am just average.
This time around is very different from previous rounds of quitting. You see, I am out of the rat race. Meaning I don’t need to work to support myself anymore. It doesn’t mean that I am extremely rich, just that I am richer and that I have the skills to deploy those money to support myself while earning more. It is a very well thought out event, I am not rage quitting nor did I get sick and tired of working (well a little bit of this).
To be honest, I did look for jobs throughout the year, the most notorious of which was a 3 days event with Intel which took me one month to prepare for. I had three interviews to get into the final 2 candidate and then they flew me down there for the final interview all expenses paid just like in those movies about hackers. Of course, I wasn’t good enough for them, it is the great recession after all and I was up against industry veterans that has 10 or more years of experiences. It was a position with their new pet “Larrabee” project that eventually got canceled. I am glad though that I didn’t make it, otherwise I would’ve been out of a job by now. This trip deserves a whole entry on its own and i am glad that I can write about all these now that all the NDA I signed will be annulled (As well as the Matrox ones).
What’s next?
There are two possibilities, both of which will finally allow me to focus purely on programming. 1. is to develop the automated trading platform and fine tuning the existing one so I can continue earning the rewards that I am earning from my investment. 2. is to get the team together and get started on making my game.
Before any of these gets done though, I have to sell my condo and all its contents as well as move to Vancouver. These are the things that are definitely going to happen. Quebec’s real estate is pretty much in a bubble. With the recent tax increases and a 60% debt to GDP ratio, it didn’t take me long to realize that Quebec is now locked into the financial death spiral. The beginning of the burst will be the rise of interest rates. I don’t want to time the peak, nor do I want to wait around for that. It just so happened that a lot of different factors coincided together for me to be able to finally say “Fuck it!”
Why Vancouver?
The choice for Vancouver is made after having been to most of the major cities in Canada. Vancouver is a place where I can shine the brightest as I have all the skills that naturally pushes me ahead of the herd. First of all, they speak English. Secondly, there’s a huge Mandarin speaking population so my mother tongue is actually a benefit instead of a hindrance in Vancouver. You remove the language barrier and you remove the biggest frustration that I face in Montreal.
At my age, it is no longer about developing skills against adverse environments or fitting in. It’s about deploying existing skills in the environment that favors me.
Waiting before my heat is up and to showdance in front of hundreds of people. Fighting off the adrenaline high, keeping my energy up.
Waiting, for the previous trainer to finish his topic while mentally simulating my part in the presentation. The jokes I am going to insert, the questions I am going to ask and the exercises that I will make them do.
Waiting before a board meeting with bigwigs of a company. Calming my nerves with coffee and repeating to myself what not to say or think. Forcing myself to take it easy and find a way to believe that they are my long time friends.
Waiting for many many occasions right before a big important unknown. Exciting, exhausting and emotional. Over and over again until it no longer phases me because I no longer seek other people’s approval on my performance.
Yet nothing compares to this. A large buildup to an event of something I’ve been waiting for years on. Compared to the other shorter term transitions, I can’t rely on the flow of the moment to get me through the internal turmoils. No, the prboelm with this is that I have too much time to think without being able to act on anything. Too much time to criticize, too much time to read about other’s failures and too much time for doubts.
Worst of all, I am seeking the approval of myself from myself. The most critical person in the world.
A sense of disappointment and indifference have started overwhelming my mood after each dance class. Perhaps I have wanted it to give life some positivity so much that it couldn’t keep up with my expectations. I noticed that I went through the same cycle every time I move and decide to pick up dancing again.
I tried to rationalize what is going on, but am at a loss for the root cause of it. Originally, I had thought that the disappointment comes from dancing with woman whom I thought aren’t as good as me and that the search for perfection is deluding me from the reality of the real partnership. There is o perfect connection and I will be happier if I don’t look for it. Yet, this shouldn’t be a problem this time. This time, I started with the specific intention of socializing instead of dancing.
Still, I feel it. The mental agony cries out when the lady couldn’t match the tempo of a double turn. The cringe of a fake smile whenever the woman complains about a lead being too sudden, but a complaint caused by the lack of her connection. Could it be that once you’ve walked past certain level of expertise that you can never go back? I want to experience that high from a perfect connection someone once showed me. Or perhaps it is just in my imagination and I have already surpassed that level? As has been proven time and time again when I look at my past teachers and realizing that I am the better dancer.
Until I feel it again, I will futilely continuing working on the basics, improving my stamina and strengthening all the small supporting muscles. Wherever you are, don’t take too long in showing up, I don’t know when my hope will die.
It’s scary thinking about what I am about to embark on. The excitement of new possibilities pitched in a perpetual war against the fear. Do I? Or don’t I? I thought the answer was crystal clear before, but now, I don’t know… Will I be lonely?
That loneliness factor had never entered the equation when I was deciding on similar events before. All of a sudden, I find myself confused about possibly giving up the things I’ve come to treasure. Mainly, the relationships that are already established. Am I running away? Do I have the strength to make the right decision? Perhaps I’ve lost some of the luster of youth. Desiring more for comfort of the established life and the warmth of the familiar. Will I kill the dreams for it? Have reality pummeled so hard that I have stopped daring to dream?
On the other side of the equation, pulling me on. Is the promise of certain freedom. Freedom from certain binding which seems like it can be achieved soon. The two opposite factors should have canceled the need to make a decision if you average them mathematically, but the reality of life is that they contribute to adding more tension to the rope. When the rope snaps, the momentum will be greater.
One thing I know is that I am taking this decision more seriously than previous similar ones I’ve made. Enough so that I have taken Christmas week off to think it over and look at it from all point of view.
I have never taken a Christmas vacation before.
Yeah, that’s right. I’ve always worked through Christmas since I waded into the pond of adulthood. The decision to take the days off was subconscious before the true implication of what this decision will mean was clear to me. Goes to show how my subconscious is treating this as the top issue to be sorted out in my life. Yes, more important than sex, money and chocolate. That is all I can say for now, since there are people in my readership who will be impacted by this.
Yes, I have a vague idea of who’s reading me, except for a few permanent reader from foreign countries that I am pretty sure I’ve never been to. Thanks for reading. You are my one way psychologist. Considering how cheap ass I am, I don’t see this being replaced by a real psychologist soon.
The more I dance around, the more I understand what I am looking for. More through a yearning of something that’s lacking than being satisfied by my own progress previously. The difference is huge and I am not sure if I can convey this properly without sounding weird. I guess you have to reach where I am to feel this. It’s the difference between seeking to constantly improve (the attention towards the selfish progress) and the search for a perfect interaction (a perfection of giving and taking).
This change of concept is vastly different from the traditional belief of lead and follow to a more harmonized approach to invitation and usage. Along with the realization that you can only have a perfect dance when both parties are able to go all out at 120%. If 100% is you dancing perfectly, then 120% is both of you going faster, sharper and more emotional from leap frogging off of each others momentum. In this interaction, a guy no longer leads forcefully and a girl no longer follows blindly. The man will have to be confident enough to not abuse the role that initiates steps while the woman has to be confident enough to take the invitation with full force.
I’ve been able to lead everyone so far into what I want to do by using the strongly lead expecting the woman to reciprocate with a strong follow. So why am I looking for that elusive connection? Because it’s the difference between having to adjust the way I dance to the woman’s need and not having to think at all and just let my body do what it wants.
I’ve been in a slumber for so long that the clarity struck me like lighting, leaving me on the spot wriggling in pain while at the same time, electrified to overflowing with life. A little insight for you on the events that led me to this clarity. As I said before, there is something missing, something I wasn’t getting about my dance. Now, that’s the only part you should retain from all my previous posts on my adventures in Salsa.
Fast forward to today and I danced with Dihilia at about 80% of my maximum ability with Salsa level 1 steps, but it was enough to awaken something in me. If you want me to describe me, I can only reference to the fight club scene where Tyler was describing how fighting changes your perspective in life. How you start sizing people up on the street and everyone you meet. With that slight disapproving scowl on his face. As if your whole life before this was unsatisfying, you can beat up anyone you meet and you are pissed that you only realized it now. To tell you the truth, I probably danced like I used to, or probably even less skillful than before when I was at my prime. What has changed is a complete synchronization of dance and life. I don’t have to pretend anymore and what I dance is what I am.
Or, another way of describing this, I have become what I pretended to be.
I get the biggest surprises when I dance with newbies and the biggest disapointments when I dance with advanced dancers. This is probably because of the expectation I have set for both groups. For some advanced dancers might look very pretty and flashy, but in reality have a very crappy frame; instantly destroying the fantasy constructed up till the moment when the music starts. All because, yes, they should know better.
Which to my surprise, proved that the opposite is actually more exhilarating as a result and requires some modification in my thinking of what is considered talent. I haven’t danced with beginners for a long time and never in my life danced with so many of them in such a short time. On top of that, salsa is close enought to dancesport so that most of the skills and techniques are interchangeable, except for my 11 somewhat years of built-in instinct to start on the 2 or the 4. Salsa starts with 1.
The similarity means that the lead and follow should somewhat be the same in both groups and that what I notice in one applies to another as well. Back to the point, I’ve been noticing that some selected few beginners possesses some talents that I’ve only felt in top dancers before. In the way they spin, in the way they respond to a connection and in how they prefer to carry their frame. I’ve always thought that these type of thing is taught and improved over time, but if I was not delusional when I was dancing with these newbies, then I am wrong and these are things that you are born with and is inherent in your personality.
Hence, the pro’s claims to know who you are from the way you dance.
I am always intrigued at the audacity of some of the ladies in my class when they tell me that I am leading them wrong and that I need to do it in a certain different way. I mean HOW COULD THEY? Don’t they know that it’s their fault? Of course, that thought only flashes by for an instant before being overtaken by bemusement. This must be what an elephant feels when a cat is trying to attack its foot.
The idea leads me to an interesting conclusion which I didn’t see before. Maybe there isn’t a “universal lead”. For years, I’ve chased after the holy grail of the men’s role in dancing and that is to be able to lead everyone while believing that if only I can perfect my lead, if only I can perfect it to what a perfect lead is, then I can do it. Herein lies my mistake, in which I believed the existence of an ideal.
So perhaps I need to adjust my lead and find what the perfect lead is for each lady, in the process becoming many different perfect lead myself. But if this is the truth, then there must be a perfect follower for the natural tendencies in which I normally lead.
Because I have plenty of time to think while working on the basics and my awareness of our bodies intensifies to compensate for the dance partner’s inexperience, I started to notice all these awesome things that I am doing which I wasn’t aware of before.
The most amazing feat of my subconscious is the awareness of people, where they are and what move they are about to do. A consequence of dancing waltz where floorcraft is essential in order to avoid people while keeping the whole routine going smoothly. Avoiding obstacles in your path as if your routine were planned with the obstacles in mind.
I believe that several years of dancing, looking all around and bumping into people in crowded dance floors managed to burn this ability into a subconscious routine that I don’t have to think about. Leaving my mind free to take care of other tasks. I don’t know how else to explain this to non dancers, let’s just say that if I need to take a step back and somebody is about to pass behind me in a perpendicular path, I know without looking that I have to take a smaller step and I trust in this “knowing” without questioning it.
The funny thing is, put me in a soccer field where the same skill can benefit me greatly and it doesn’t work. As if the very feeling of wood underneath the leather soles of my shoe activates the ability.
The benefit of dancing lies in its hidden ability to pick your mood up and make what would otherwise be a very shitty day the happiest day of your week. The adrenaline rush is a double edged sword though. For there exist events in life where no amount of dancing can improve your mood, especially when you’ve come to rely on dancing for happiness. It is not the be all and end all of picker uppers.
Just like any substance abuse, the more you consume, the stronger the dose you’ll need until one point, you come down from the high the moment the music stops and you feel just as shitty if not shittier as before. That’s when you realize that the supposed happiest thing in your life did jack to improve your feelings of well being and that the event that is stressing you out is THAT serious.
I believe that I am supposed to learn an important lesson about my dancing. There was a reason why I stopped so suddenly, along with a feeling of in adequacy in terms of skill, I’ve always had this weird feeling that I am lacking something in my dancing and that something is from within. I have a feeling that I am going to find this something in my journey through the world of Salsa. It is similar enough to ballroom in style that I feel completely comfortable with the flow while at the same time providing some challenges because I know none of its steps. This gives me the time to ponder through the beginner’s journey with an expert’s mind eye for retrospection.
It was an impulsive decision. A colleague at work was contemplating taking the lesson and I was extremely bored with my life outside of work that I just want to do anything. That’s how we end up at Salsa etc, 6 hours later, at the beginner’s level. I know you might think that’s overkill for a person who’s been dancing as long as I do, but that’s actually the level that the studio owner told me to take after watching me dance with his wife.
So since then, I’ve been just tagging along and showing up to class late 4 times until one day, the teacher finally had an eureka moment and said: “Vous faites de la danse sociale!!”. Yes, he had been looking at me with a puzzled look on his face because I can miraculously catch up to anything that they show me while asking all the newbie questions. Yes, I did try to dumb it down a bit to look clumsy, but that’s because I don’t want the rest of the class to feel bad.
I think I was dancing up to 10% of my usual full performance at class 4 and I let slip a few pointed foot here and there as well as some really sharp spins that newbies can’t do. Put two and two together: someone who can dance a new move like he’s been doing it for his whole life on top of someone who is completely oblivious to salsa moves and you got a ballroom dancer.
The reason why I only dance at 10% is partly due to not wearing my dance shoes, the rest is because I don’t want to discourage new comers. Especially guys, since they are already rare enough in dancing. More importantly, I don’t want to discourage my colleague. There’s a line that dictate whether or not a guy continues dancing, it’s the difference between seeing someone who’s good and think you can catch up and seeing someone who’s so good that it devastated your confidence. I know because I’ve been there and that’s why I am being extra careful.
The other part is because losing my colleague would mean losing the reason why I took up salsa for now. I wanted to see what it’s like to see dancing as an activity to build relationships, instead of one where you compete with your fellow classmates.
I feel guilty for shouting at my mom. For hurting her in such a way because I couldn’t hold my temper in check. Old people hide their emotions really well, but I’ve known my mom too long to miss the hurting inside of her. Can I really claim that I know my mom?
Rather, can I really claim that I know my family?
All too soon, we fell back to the routine. Our interactions became routine, our attitude towards each other became routine. I became routine. And I thought I’ve changed for the better.
What’s not routine is the frailty of the facade of a perfect family that we are maintaining. I seldom raise my voice, but why am I all of a sudden doing that to my mom out of impatience? I think it’s about time that we drop this facade and start saying these things that we bottle up inside. These stories that we are too ashamed to say so we can start healing instead of letting the wound fester. There’s not much time left to enjoy each other’s company. When I ask myself honestly I don’t understand my parents at all and I don’t see any reason why I am uncomfortable telling them about my problems.
I worry about my parents, but often put it at the back of my mind because I am at the point of my life where I am just about to soar. The reality of life means that conflicting things usually happen at the same time and events don’t happen in a timely matter to suit yourself. The time is NOW.
The truth of the matter is, I worry about their happiness. They should be enjoying life and it hurts me to see that they are not and are instead plagued by problems. It also scares me to see their frailty, which puts into focus the fact that I have to take over and become the strength in their life instead.
I am scared that they’ll die. All these talk we had about how to take care of things in the event of their death, the preparations, freaks me out. It brings that reality that much closer and we’ve hardly shared any good memories. There are problems in our family and we just pretend that these problems don’t exist. I sometimes wonder, whether or not I should just tell them that I know and I still see them as my family.
A traditional Asian family is often one where it is hard to feel loved. My family is unfortunate enough to have seen and felt what family love should be by the western standard only to find ourselves totally lacking in facilities to love and reciprocate. Add the burden of being the landing immigrant generation and I feel the weight of loneliness and isolation that my parents endured in order to provide a semblance of family life for our first few years here. How can I not cry for them inside when I understand all these pain?
There’s a saying that goes: “Live life as if everyday is your last day”. After my quarter life crisis, I realized that I should live life as if it is everyone’s last day.
My absence is really easy to explain. I have lost my way. There has been so much destruction that I am now forcibly faced with a redefinition of what I stand for. Or maybe I am starting to come to terms with what I have always known but denied. That people interact with me not because they like me. I noticed it through observing what they discuss with me. Mostly, technical and financial stuff. Yes, it feels great when they listen to my advice instead of their financial advisor’s advice, but it left me empty feeling more like a tool than human.
So, it is for sure that I am not seeking superiority over other people.
Instead, I desperately wanted normal friendship and companionship. Feeling people’s trust in me and in turn trusting others.
The destruction of my self worth has been so utterly complete that everything I held that I values is destroyed. I am then granted with the blessings of a clean state. This must be what losing all of your kung fu feels like. A master is forever trapped in the vicious cycle of bettering one’s kung fu. But a master who’ve lost the skill in a major crisis is given a second chance at living life.
What do I really want. I have been asking that all this time. The current crisis in the world seems to put that in real perspective. I am sure that others are probably close to the same tipping point as I am. I noticed it in the daily interactions, the change, their consciousness and thoughtfulness. Maybe this is what we all need. A world where we all feel more vulnerable so that we can once again appreciate people’s effort. I know I do that more.
My life will be defined by people whom I care about and if they care back. I don’t know how to go about doing that. I am not really fluent in this, but I will try.
The side effect of this is that I now know why I blog. Sorry, it’s not about you, it’s all about me. I blog because I use it to figure out what I really want. Without writing it down, anything is just an idea that’s left to be entertained later. I blog as an official and conscious effort to sort it all out.
Hey! Recently, I found myself often on the brink of tears. The funny thing is, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed of it. I love this new found emotion.
How do I put this in words. I don’t think the tears are because I am a weak punkass or anything. No, it has nothing to do with self pity. I believe they have something to do with finally being able to see greatness and the moments of clarity in other people’s lives.
It feels great and at the same time weird. I am going through movies I’ve seen before and able to completely immerse in the storyline. I think it is because I can now shut off my analytical side so that I don’t notice these redundancy and corniness of all the story lines. I am able to believe the lie just long enough for me to feel what it is trying to convey.
I stormed out of the front door at work and welcomed the icy relief that attacked my senses. The cold is a welcome reprieve against my seething anger.
It’s getting easier and easier for me to understand a person. With the side effect of knowing how vulgar a personality that they possesses. So much so that I can’t stand their presence sometimes…
I was frustrated because of people’s ego. That and the type who, as soon as they detect any hint of kindness, make it a mission to extort everything out of you. Then there are those who, during business meetings, insists on making inappropriate jokes about you. People who seems to relish in pointing out every mistakes you made.
Just when I have finally found a place where humbleness and kindness can fit into my life, it seems to attract those of the opposite opinion who enjoys taking advantage of it. I don’t want to go back to the critical person that I was and as a person who pinches every penny out of everything.
Perhaps it is because they are so similar to my old self that it infuriates me so. When I have finally discovered a better state of being, the first obstacle I encounter is my old self. Trying everything it can to drag me back down to where I was. Doing so while I am still unsure of how to react in the new consciousness and the call from the old behavior is still sweet and recent.
The dense fog hugged everything around me, dampening life as it blocked out my ability to sense the surrounding. Giving the day a hint of seriousness and sadness as if life itself was weeping. It’s strange that I am feeling at a loss. Especially so when it is for an object, but I can’t help it. When I thought about the fact that I will no longer see this car ever in my life again, I felt ashamed. I must be cruel for discarding it after it has rendered my family a decade and a half of service.
Its history
It’s had a good life though. Our family took care of it with all the money we can until I became the sole owner of it. Now that I think about it, I am the one who did the most damage to it in its life span. Having crashed it twice throughout its life time, damaging the tires and transmissios severely. It explains why I have so much problems in those areas near the end of its time.
Some statistics to remember it by: Toyota Camry V6 LE gray 1992
Fuel economy: 17 mpg
Automatic transmission
Power window, power doors
ABS
Average cost of gas per month: $120
Traveled 325,000 kilometers
Onece side impact in Ottawa by a van
Once rear ended in Ottawa by a van
V6 engine (still in perfect condition)
Fed it Premium gasoline all throughout its life except for the last 2 years when gas is above 1.00/liter
Transmission completely changed when it’s 5 years old
Air conditioner died from rust due to lack of use
Tires replaced
Rear caliper failed and replaced
All the suspensions died
Rear load balancer steel beam rusted completely
Starter died (on the final day to be traded in)
It has been both a mentor and a great reliable ride for me… well as reliable as it liked. Now that I think about it, it has been reliable on occasions that were NOT critical. But I still have to admit that it was there with me on every steps of my life.
When I was 16 and learning to drive
The car that was used to transport me and my meager belongings to my dorm
Drove my first date around in it
Drove to my first dance competition in it.
Had my first car accident in it
It did have a habit of failing at the most crucial moment too. A quirk in its personality that is part of its charm
The hand break locked up on the day of my driver’s license test.
The battery died when we were ready and packed to go to a competition
The starter refused to do its job on the last day of its life when I was going to trade it in
Other than these worth mentioning events, it has provided me with reliable services especially during the harsh Canadian winter. Watching it slowly die in the past 2 years has been memorable. Now that it is gone these memories somehow provides me with warmth. I am glad that I get to drive it in its last two years of life. In dying slowly, it forced me to learn the principles of car maintenance and repair so that the next one won’t suffer as badly as it. The most important lesson that it taught me is the relationship between rust and its longevity. When I decided to junk it, its outward appearance is still pristine, however, the underside tells a different story.
The nail in the coffin is of course, the load balancer. Due to record snowfall for the past two years, it was constantly in touch with either snow or salty slush while parked. The compacted snow in the parking lot accelerated the process by grating off the layer of rust proofing material that’s supposed to protect all metals.
Thank you for the services you’ve rendered dear ol’ car. I will remember you.
Some update on just daily life since I haven’t written journal like entries for a while.
Since I used up all my vacation time for the trip, and my famillies will all be overseas, I will be working through most of the Christmas time except for the mandatory 2 days. At least, there ARE lots of things to ponder after an eventful year. Or I should take this time to complete one of my projects and successfully pick my first padlock like a good thief would do.
Sometimes I wish I can have a normal Christmas… If I am white. Truth is, I am not and I never understands Christmas. Nor do I feel the warmth of Christmas. How is the loneliest holiday in the world for most people a good thing? I’d rather have a good traditional Chinese New year. Now THAT is what I miss the most.
The economy is doing so bad that the odds of me actually getting laid off has surpassed 50%. I guess I should mentally and financially prepare for that eventuality. If that happens, all these optimization I’ve done would’ve been for nothing. Just when I finally figured out an email system that works for 20+ emails a day scenario and my inbox finally reached 0.
Projects are getting completed left and right now that I have adapted a new method. Rather, reverted back to the old method of SINGLE TASKING. It makes sense in two ways. One, you don’t have to task switch. Two, it makes others feel that you are dedicated. Which is true.Writing a project journal entry really helps too. It allow me to see the small progresses, while reminding me that I have to do something before writing any entry.
Crossed path with a woman who looked like Lauren but, upon interrogation, turned out to be somebody else. Still, it didn’t stop my heart from jumping all over the place in joy during that brief moment of confusion. It gave me a lot of questions to ponder.
I’ve passed by other people from my past before, but none of them felt as potent as a simple possibility that it might be her. None of them felt as comfortable either. How do I convey this difference. With others, there’s always some type of anxiety lurking around somewhere. Either making me self conscious or showy.
It’s probably because of the fact that I just flat asked her out on Valentine’s day and got rejected. Well, rejected in my mind back then because I was a 1 and 0 guy. Everything was black and white. Well, I didn’t want to have any regret and I didn’t know any other way. So it was the best I could’ve done I guess. It is kind of stupid because I am now regretting the fact that I gained my current knowledge too late. I shouldn’t have given up, but I did. Because that’s the type of guy I was, that’s how I did things. Take a big breath, have ample time to prepare and perform a do or die maneuver.
The comfortable feeling must’ve been a result of that. Nothing bad happened. She didn’t make fun of me or tell anyone else about it. She just accept that fact and continued on with life. No judgment no nothing. I was the one who acted weird. Then, with the stress that is to come with engineering. It got brushed to the back of my mind till today.
So I started wondering. What ended up happening to that girl with a beautiful mind?
Most of my colleagues at work are panicking. People are talking about the stock market in disbelief and all I can think about is: “Gee, you guys are slow.” I remember looking at the stock charts in horrow around Febuary, the feeling of being the only one depressed still fresh in my mind.
Probably not good form to be laughing right now, but I am not going to deny the fact that I am happy. Fact of the matter is, the world is now shifting into something that I am more familiar with than your average North American: “Poverty”.
This I understand. This, I have lived with for most of my life and this, is the lifestyle that I have adhered to even during good times. People with more savings have lost more than I did. My loss is peanuts compared to the rich millionaires. The crisis brought them down to my level and brought the world to a more conservative and down to earth mentality: “My territory”.
Add that to my own belief that I am most brilliant and aggressive during times of change. I have to say that things are aligned my way. Just to prove my point, I summoned 10k worth of cash into my bank account from various places to make sure that the transactions can still go through without a hitch and to estimate the time it needs for them to settle. These are my dry powders, my leverage for the way up.
What are the odds that you get hit by lighting twice on the exact same spot? I am betting on that odd. If I am wrong, call me lucky if you will to be the one in a few billion.
I laughed all the way down with a manic saddistic tone, almost desperate but liberating. I’ve been doing that for the past two weeks whenever anyone asked me about the stock market. I told these people that I am laughing because these bankers and traders finally got a taste of what I had when I graduated into 2003. I also told them that through these loss, I have finally reached an emotional state that I have sought ever since I became independent at 18. Yes, it is true. I am no longer bound by losses.
Have I gone crazy? Maybe. Could this be a backlash of extreme sorrow? Maybe. Anything could cause it, but one thing is certain. My heart has never felt lighter, nor have I been so unrestrained at any other time in my life. It also seems to coincide with being healthy again. Today I drank some coffee and ate some frozen pasta. I tasted a few things that I wasn’t aware of before.
It feels as if some burden’s been lifted from my shoulders. The burden to succeed, to leave a legacy, to achieve a better life than others and to be rich. For now, there are no goals and I just do things as it comes to mind. I am going to live like that for a while. It is the opposite of what my life had been.
I can’t wait till the day when I get out of this bad position I am in right now. All these uncertainties around my financial prediction in direct conflict with my instinct to run. On the other hand, I am waiting for a sort of judgment from certain people. A yes or no that will either confirm or deny my belief up until this point in life. While, the two separate events might not destroy me by themselves, I am not sure if I can handle them at the same time.
Financially, I have already told all the people I know who invest to get out of the market and repeatedly hammer that into their brain until they unwillingly put that sell order. I suspect that my own unwillingness to get out of the market has something to do with it. However, I have since cleared it up with most of them by telling them that I am doing this as an academic research. I am, in fact, trying to see if I can beat the house during a depression.
Oh it worked well. I studied the great depression, the savings and loan crisis and I made my moves based on weekends after weekends of research. Long story short, they did jack to me and I am having a lot of regret at watching the strategy go up in smokes in the last 7 days. Yep, I managed to stay in the positive until 7 days ago. Until the house representative first denied the bailout bill. Which led to a domino of US bank failure and European bank failure. Today, I heard that Iceland might even go bankrupt as a country.
On the other hand, I am waiting for the conclusion of my secret project. Which is a culmination of everything that I stood for. An acknowledgment of my achievements as a person who seeks out change and welcomes the unknonw. Someone who constantly seeks to improve oneself in every aspect of life.
You can see why I say that I am under duress now. My only solace lies with this French song that I put on a loop back. It is the sedative that prevents me from acting out the violence within. The one voice of hope that I am holding onto by a thin thread because I don’t know if I can handle what’s to come. I am in an unknown territory. A mental challenge that either confirms or denies what I have believed in.
What excites me most about this ordeal is how I will emerge out of the mess in a few years. How will I look back with a knowing smile? Will I laugh at my folly? Or will I be proud of my achievement under these serious conditions? Maybe I will brush them aside and laugh at myself for taking these small problems so seriously. The future is so exciting because I have placed my foot down and said: “Here is my belief and I put everything that I have on the line to reach for my belief.”
“You have to be able to look at a stock and say I am going to buy it at this price and then execute when it reaches that price.” ~Warren Buffett (Or some variation in wording which I can’t recall in exact details)
I did that and now I am left dealing with the aftermath of what we call success. In a market where traditional bank runs are shown on TV, gas price is up the roof and people losing their houses everywhere. I prospered. In fact, more than prospered and I will simply leave it at that.
The intensity of the success within such a short amount of time meant that I am constantly filled with adrenaline and I’ve been like this for a week now. Every time I wake up I feel tired from an over active dream. My mind is on hyper drive constantly and I wondered about just how good I am.
At the same time, I am constantly going through reality checks to keep myself grounded. The need to cry out my success to others is unbearable yet I know to be inappropriate in the current economic condition. I’ve only giddly let it slip during in a discussion with Mark and already, it irked the hell out of my humble self. I am also doing constant checks against my decision now that the feeling of success and superiority is coursing through every pores in my body. For I know that cockiness is the first step towards failure.
Yet little signs here and there still showed through interactions in my daily life. Mostly because I am really close to not being able to justify working at a job anymore from a return per effort perspective. Self sustainability is not that far away. The lack of sleep, high level of adrenaline, the constant reality checks/self analysis and my internal return per effort algorithm which is constantly on. They all contributed to this moment right now. I don’t know how to properly put it in words.
It’s not a feeling, but rather a state of overexcitement. Kind of like the day after we took the gold medal in a big dance competition against 30 other couples. Tired and rough from the physical and emotional drain, yet the adrenaline is still propping us up while life all around has returned to its slow pace. We had to restrain ourselves so we don’t jump up in joy while walking across a depressing rainy street towards a breadshop for breakfast. Yeah. Kinda like that.
Those of you who’ve read my blog for a while knows that I’ve been avidly investing in the stock market for the past two years. It helped me gain the perspective of the big picture as well as providing emotional stability by honing my heart in the constant onslaught of an emotional whirlpool. They say that money loss is second only to love loss and in some Asian countries, it might even trump love. I agree with that to certain extend. After all, I did survive losing $10,000 on book only to gain it back the next month. The ordeal left me feeling numb or not at all. Suffice to say that dips and rises in the market no longer affects my normal life anymore. I am beginning to be more and more like commander Data from StarTrek.
Not that I am happy about the downfall of Bear Sterns, IndyMac, CountryWide Financial and numerous others to come (Lehman brothers, Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae), but the fact that companies valued at above 30 billion could disappear within a month amazes me. With a market in turmoil, you can no longer trust the public statements of any company. It seems to be a trend that the more that they are under water, the more they make the effort to announce that everything is fine. It isn’t rare to see a company announcing one thing and does exactly the opposite the next day (with the CEO promptly fired the following day of course).
I knew of these of course. The reaction has always been part of the possibilities. I just never had enough experience to know the percentage of such possibilities because I am still learning as I go along. It took guts and decisive action to cut losses against my emotions. It is also a great exercise in trusting myself, my decisions and my ability to read people. Throughout all this bullshit, I know I will come out stronger. I already am a little bit and I can feel just how much more I will be when all the strategic planning (That I’ve taken the pain to make) comes to fruition in 4 years.
I am like a kid, going up to the recently widowed, asking to perform an autopsy on her deceased husband.
Had my first condo meeting since I moved in. We were all surprised at my age. For them, I am very young, to me, they are very much older. Other than that, things progressed in an orderly manner conducted by a person from the management team. After raising my issue at heart, snow removal during the winter, I remained silent throughout the meeting, seeing no need for anything else and relying on the 500+ years of experiences from the combined age of the group. Who’s going to give me slack anyway and I really am not that comfortable discussing finances in French. In fact, this is the first time I tried to discuss finances in French. So many unfamiliar legal terms.
What did surprise me though, is the unwillingness of the people to take up leadership position. Most of it fell to the young and capable (and away from me due to my sucky French and my noobness). I’ve always thought that older people tend to lead more, but what I saw was fraility, the fear of making mistakes and general dislike of responsibilities. Yes they’ve been there and done that… for sure.
In any case, the president position is in good hands and I can continue on to a trouble free life, provided that I pay my condo fees on time of course.
Sometimes, I really don’t understand why I push myself like this. Putting my ego on the line so others can trample it over and over again. Am I losing my dignity? Wouldn’t life be simpler if I just do what I always did? No stress, no excitement and my feelings wouldn’t be hurt. I’d feel good about myself.
It’s a sign that I still don’t deal well with rejection. Whenever I tell myself that it is ok we are just not a good fit, in the subconscious level, there’s always an equal resistance that wanted to push it forward even more.
I think what hurts me the most is that I did not expect the process to feel the same as in year 2003 when I first graduated. There’s no excuse this time, 5 years of hard work experience later, it is still the same.
Throughout the internal turmoils I am experiencing, one song repeated and accompanied me through the day to help calm my soul. The music was originally created to be mixed with an experimental porn shopping catalog yet what they probably didn’t expect is to have people seeking after the name of the song. I for one enjoy the slightly rough but still beautiful female vocal that lazily sings echoes through the song. I have asked their permission to post a flash version for people to listen to, but have not heard any reply yet. It’s such a wonderful song that I can’t wait to share with you.
It seems that my review for restaurant has pissed off a few people. Enough so that they emailed their lawyer about it which brought a spike in traffic from their meticulous scrutiny of the personal food review site I maintain. If you are wondering which one I am talking about, it is this.
It started off as a simple review. Something that I do with honesty and sincerity until a long time customer got a hold of it and started emailing my employer (Because I forgot to remove a logo from one of the images), forcing me to waste a day worth my time to update everyone and deal with it (which resulted in the scrutiny and modification of any information related to my work by the whole marketing department).
In each one of my review, I try my best to mention both the positives and the negatives and did my best to do the same for that restaurant. Granted, my experience there wasn’t that great, but that’s the whole point of a personal website isn’t it?
Today, I noticed a weird spike in traffic and as always I check up on it to see if another person tried to leech off of my pictures. Lo and behold, it was a law firm going through every single one of my reviews from an email link that someone sent them. Prime computation deducts that it is the owner of that restaurant who sent it to his lawyer.
Instead of contacting me directly to rectify the situation, so far they’ve resulted to pressure tactics from my employer and perhaps legal means. I am just dumbstruck by this type of behavior. I mean it doesn’t make business sense. Consider the case where they win and they make my life miserable what will happen?
There are actually less people visiting that site than the real people that I know in life. At the beginning, when I finished writing the post, I was neutral and hoping to go back again to experience the dining experience as an individual to give them a fair score. With all of this that has already happened now, I am leaning towards telling people not to go to that restaurant if they ask me.
However, when they do take legal action and really make my life miserable. What do you think I will do? I will not only have an interesting and funny story to tell everyone I know, I will also do it for free and go out of my way to do it.
How much are they paying their lawyers? And how much am I getting paid for telling my funny story? That’s my question.
Having a crisis of motivation. Hence the short message.
That is what I originally wrote. But then, the surge of thoughts rushed through me. I realized that I’ve been supressing what I really wanted to write about in order to present the experience. Truth is, I’ve become quieter.
I had thought that I’d go around blurting out stories of Morocco to everyone I see at home, but when it come time to perform, when my friends asked me about the great adventures I had. I simply smiled and said: “It was an adventure.” I don’t know why I feel this way. It is in me, it has changed me then why don’t I want to share the experience?
Perhaps it is the realization of what I really want. The proper tuning of emotions and desire to my real actions. I realize that it is not what I need to do to reach what I want. It changed me, you can feel it and that is enough. No more, will I go against my feelings even if it means that no one reads this journal or the content becomes boring as hell.
At first, I was pissed off at the miniaturized size of everything in my plate and worryied about hunger right after I finished wolfing down the meal. “Why are they paying so much for so little food? How do they even survive?” Seriously, a piece of bread that’s smaller than the size of my palm with cheese and ham costs 5 Euros. I shook my head when I saw it for the first time, still in shock from the implication.
I never had a proper breakfast in Spain. The one that I salivated and dreamed of consist of a piece of bread, two sausages, two eggs, hash browns, butter jam and coffee. You know what I am talking about and you can get that in Canada for around $5 CDN (Exchange rate at this moment is $1.5 CDN = 1 Euro). Instead, I was greeted with the same disappointing “Tostadas, jamon, kaiser y Cafe” (Toast, Ham, Cheese and Coffee) for 5 Euro. I can make this at home at the cost of $0.75. Unlike in Morocco, the prices are usually non negotiable, or rather, shall we say that nobody is trying to negotiate the price. Peer pressure and the take it or leave it attitude puts the haggler in me to its death bed. I want to see what Ania would do here and worship her if she does pull it off.
Why am I dedicating this post on food? Because Spain’s timing is off… from a Canadian’s perspective. Our first encounter of this off timed eating schedule was when we were walking around looking for dinner around 7PM, a reasonable time back home, but not so much in Spain. The restaurant owners would tell us in Spanish that the kitchen is closed and we’d be scratching our head trying to figure out what they just blurted out in super fast Spanish style. This continued on until the owner got impatient and blurted out the word “Kitchen closed”. Which gave us even more question marks.
Other mysteries includes going into places during normal business hours and getting the boot with the word “siesta” or “tapas” to accompany us out. Those of you who’ve been to Spain is probably laughing now and I agree with you that it is funny. Just imagine the puzzled and clueless look on our face around 7PM trying to point at the picture of a plate of hot meal and motion the action of eating.
So, later, with trial and error, we found out what the deal is. There are two siestas in the working day, each lasting about 2 hours. Tapas (small plate) and beer time is from 5 to 7PM while the kitchen opens at 8PM (Meaning the chefs get there at 8 to open the kitchen). We didn’t bother figuring out the official lunch time since nobody offered any kind of real meal before 8PM. The most you can find is “Toastadas y …” or some tapas place.
This European diet is part of the reason why I lost so much weight. That and the small portion of food they serve. As time goes by though, I started to see things their way. Even though the portions are smaller, the scent and tastes are stronger. You can see this trend in everything. Even the coffee they make is stronger (In a super tiny cup that you can fit two thumbs in). Upon returning home, I verified this fact by ordering some of the same food and drinking coffee. I am now a sucker of “Toastadas y Porsciutto y Cafe”
Near the end of our trip, it is not uncommon to hear this type of exchange between Mark and I. The words might seem extreme, but I assure you it is only so on paper. At least, my interpretation of our interaction dictates so.
These exchanges come not as hatred, but more like a frustration that we felt about the way the other person are. The problem with being an adult is that we each has our established values and habits and we both have enough confidence in ourself to not bend over backward to get pooped on by other people.
I remember that there was a time when I was afraid that people would lose respect or dislike me if I show the negative side of me. Over time though, I found out that I much prefer the company of those who knows my quirks and still accepts me. I don’t have to or want to watch my behavior with these people, nor do I have to worry about them pissing me off because the feeling is usually mutual.
This is reinforced by the fact that I met the people I met on this trip in my most dishevelled state possible, yet they still enjoyed my company. (Think no shower for a few days, no shaving at all with sand and dirt in my hair). I was being accepted the way I am and I was glad.
One of the first thought I had when I got back is: “Wow, people take a lot of effort making sure they look good.”
“I used to look up to people who’ve backpacked through Europe.”
Tourism, traveling, backpacking and the general means of roughing it while moving from one country to another has lost its romantic allure to me. I no longer look at it with a youth’s glossy eyed innocence. For the moment, I am saturated. And because of this saturation, I am able to stand across the fence and give myself lectures that would otherwise sound like heresy to the backpacking religion.
I think this comes from the failure to find the type of traveling that I was really looking for. No, I had mistaken the ideal in my mind with the general accepted concept of traveling. Makes you wonder just exactly what I happened on this trip to change my perception of it so drastically. It’s simple really. I just realized that everything is already taken cared of for the tourist. Less so in 3rd world countries like Morocco, but it feels smooth as melted butter when you are going through Europe. Even the cheapest of the worst hostels that we stayed at felt like heaven compared to the relative discomfort we’ve been through. But that’s not it at all. It’s the fact that the relative uncomfortable place is even there to begin with that bothers me.
No, I don’t think I want to travel as a tourist at all. I don’t want to see the museums, the churches or any type of architecture that are either semi bombed out or restored to perfect shape. The canned sights, the soul searching and self exploration have all been done to death in my life (Last tally, I’ve seen 90 cities already with some more to add to the list). No, for me, traveling is about the interaction with people. With other travelers and with the locals in order to live their life through my body.
That and the fact that I met this 45 year old guy on the road who’ve been traveling since 20. We talked, we exchanged thoughts. I walked away telling myself: “I do not want to be like him.”
“You know, the most excitement we got in the five days since we arrived is you almost slipping on some Irish puke and stepping on dog shit.”
Only 14 km away, but a world’s difference. If you fancy a fast lane to a double whammy of cultural shock, try taking the ferry from Tanger(Morocco) to Tarifa(Spain). The sharp contrast will make the most boring of us realize some kind of truth in ourself. For me, it served as a basis for me to further understand the nature of time warp; a concept dissected in-depth between me and Fred.
Fred had mentioned that working in the corporation is like working in a time bubble. You don’t really feel the passage of time, but in a blink of an eye, 5 years have passed. In the past two year of so of my tenure in the same corporation, I started to feel the same way. I see it coming, but nothing I did allowed me to escape from its grip. In the blink of an eye, two years have passed.
Don’t get it wrong, I didn’t just stay home and get fat. I did a lot of things. If you read through the past two years of my blog, you’d agree too. I’d say that I reached more goals than I did while traveling through Morocco. So why does it feel like more things had happened in that one month than the past two years combined? The only logical conclusion I can draw from it is this.
I was constantly being pushed past my comfort zone. I could not predict what the next minute will bring or whether I will be ok or not.
The downfall of my stomach happened around the middle of our trip. Since then it only gets worst until the cleansing of western food when we arrived in Spain. I remember burping a lot and the stank of the Arabian spice would gross me out. I could’ve swore that the McArabia I had at McDonalds stayed in my stomach for at least 3 days.
Strangely enough, McDonald is a lower end medium class restaurant in Morocco as opposed to Canada where it is crowned the lowest end out of all restaurant you can go to. We actually created a category for it called fast food. We thought we were escaping to safe haven when we entered McDonald, who would’ve thought that McArabia is their hidden weapon, ready to do me in.
We were pretty spartan with food during periods of hardship and we both lost weight in the process. Yet during all those time I never felt the same type of hunger that I feel now when I sit in the air conditioned office mowing down problems that grew like wild weed while I was away. The hunger induced by mental activities felt more urgent than the hunger created by physical labor. It make sense because the brain consumes sugar and that isn’t stored in our fat. Perhaps using your brain is the solution to diabetes? If some researcher care to investigate in that direction, there might be a lead.
I am not implying anything, I am just sure of the fact that I didn’t use much of my brain in Morocco and I am really not doing any physical labor right now in Canada. Yet the hunger still comes and it feels different.
A common response from the hotel owners upon hearing that we’ve made reservations over the phone. You can’t really plan ahead in Morocco, the most we’ve been able to do is to plan one day ahead and even then it’s been a hit and miss trial run with some final twist in the end that you have to react to. Yes. If I must give a theme to our trip to Morocco, it will be called “React to the moment”.
It’s the opposite of my nature. One where careful planning puts me ahead of my competition and saves me the frustration of reacting to unexpected stimulus. This trip is the perfect balancer, forcing me to play along and live from moment to moment putting me far away from my comfort zone. Nothing I’ve done there is within my comfort zone and this type of extreme exposure bred another type of characteristic: “No regrets.”
A some point in the trip, I seem to acknowledge to myself that when I put my heart to it, there’s a way. So I became someone who does what he thinks of doing no matter how my social conditioning tried to pull me in other direction. A life with no regret. Isn’t that what everyone is toting as the best way to live? Yes, but did any of them tell you how crushing a blow it is when you pull it off, but the result is not one that you wanted? The opportunity costs of non-planned action is often overlooked by people.
That was her response to me after I told her that I have decided to make some major changes in my life after this trip as a response to her pointing out the fact that she feels I am at a crossroad in my life. Hadar’s a subtle teacher. In the short time that we got to spend together and actually exchanged ideas, she’s managed to make me see the err of my thinking. Or rather, point out the conditioning of which I was unaware of.
That was when I was first able to put the desires into concrete thought, the desire to become a nomad. I also took a mental note of that moment and burned the image into my mind so I will not forget it later in life. For that moment on the Spanish beach of Tarifa, clear blue sky above, gold sands underneath with the beautiful blue ocean at our feet. I recognized that I was perfectly happy. My mind, devoid of other thoughts, was mesmerized by her blue eyes. I wanted desperately to stay with her.
But that wasn’t the choice I have to make. To become a nomad and wanders the earth. No, it’s not part of my destiny. It will happen one day, but it won’t be the defining road of my life. The choice isn’t a yes or no question either, but rather a “what” question. What will I do next?
Her bony hand clasped my wrist, hands shaking from the effort. Only four years old and already know how to beg in French. No matter how hardened I was by the road, I couldn’t bring myself to pull her hand away and ended up remaining in the awkward connection for the duration of our goodbyes. It is a problem that I’ve always had a tough stance on. I know that if you give, they’d just rely on the source of free food instead of working and gaining the skills needed for food yet this logic does not work when people have to fight for survival at such a tender age.
“You can’t feed the hungry by giving them food”
I remember saying to Joanna as we watched the kids fight for the cookies she handed out. Aggression, frustration and violence ensued soon after, if the police wasn’t there, I wonder if they’d actually swarm us out of desperation. Can I still hold the same belief? Just the fact that you are born into a 1st world country means you’ve won the lottery ticket of birth.
“Hadar’s simple words echoed in my mind as I stepped through the arrival’s door. The reality of that question made even more apparent by the absence of friends and relatives that rushes to hug me. Perhaps Hadar, currently living the nomadic life, understands that feeling more intensely than anyone else I’ve met in my life. Triple citizenship by the age of 12 with a dozen different addresses in my address book marked “Home”. It really gets to you when you realize that you don’t really need to return “Home”, that there’s nothing really tying you to it”
Excerpts from the travel journal, Day 20.
I should stop feeling melancholy and call up my friends. After another nap of course.
When I am alone and nobody is looking, my brain would sometimes re-experience an embarrassing moment in my life. I’d feel the same way all over and my body would start doing some crazy shit.
Yesterday, I came back from one of these fit realizing that I’ve been shouting the same line of a lyric over and over for the past 60 seconds while brushing my teeth. I wondered to myself…
“What the fuck was that?”
I think it was year 2003 that I started knowing it was not normal. It’s only today that I realize that it is a problem. At least it doesn’t show when I am in public.
Getting organized always involves a certain amount of revisiting your old files. Which brings me back time and time again to this particular Chinese song. The song title and artist information has long since been corrupted from several English to Mandarin and Mandarin to English text code conversion. I have a hard time finding a folder for it because it has such a unique style. If I must categorize it, I’d say it is the Chinese version of Evanescence’s: Bring me to life.
I don’t know why, but lately I’ve been listening to it on several occasions and it has always given me calm, perhaps from the somewhat unrecognizable yet comforting Chinese lyrics (Yes, I have the same problem discerning words in songs in Chinese AND in English… No problem in French though). From the little I understand, it sings about promises, love and returning home. For once, a song that’s not entirely for love… a very attractive point when every other cpop song is about love. What I believe attracted me the most is the voice of the female singer. She reminded me of another of my childhood favorite, Frances Ruffelle, whom I first heard in a remix track on Phantom of the Opera.
The only thing I have to rely on is its English title: Millenium.mp3 and the detailed information telling me that it is the genre cpop released in the year 2004 and is track #3 in the album.
“Like a Kiwi (the animal) frozen in the spotlight” ~Kiwi (the people)
Even though I keep telling myself to move my ass, to get on with all my plans and improvement projects, I seem to lack the will power to bring them to reality. Instead, I am stuck doing things that are easy, requires no effort and doesn’t require any thinking or decision making. In the face of a great change that’s coming, I am paralyzed by its enormity.
It’s like that moment right before you get hit by a car, or before a disaster stuck you down. You see it coming, but your body just stays there while your mind gets shocked into an “Oh My God!” state. No thoughts, no action. Well, I am in that state.
I haven’t had to do something that make me stress out for a while. A little uneasy in the wake of “change” and a little unsure if I can pull it off or not. It shows just how much I’ve settled into comfort that a small challenge like this can unsettle me so.
I’ve been looking forward to spring. To get away from the snow and all, but I did not foresaw being this restless. Is it the season that’s playing trick on my body? The fact that Spring is here and I am still trapped indoors?
Or is it the fact that I got this mountain of menial tasks awaiting to be done. None of which related what I prefer to be doing, but each one necessary for the sustenance of a life. Maybe I should just throw down my pen and declare: “Fuck it, let me join the hippies.”
On top of that, while walking towards the parking lot today, I realized that I can’t remember the last time my heart fluttered. You know, that feeling you had back then whenever your first crush would walk into the room? Yeah that. All I can feel nowadays, is the steady rhythm of “ptong, ptong” beating on. Through fear and excitement, joy or duress. It seem to be telling me: “Yeah, I’ve seen this before, no biggie, you’ll pull through with one of the possible outcomes.”
Where is that excitement, that overwhelming feeling of not knowing what’s coming yet you still do everything you can to go for it? Have there been one too many setbacks that killed it? Or is it the disappointment in the reality when a goal is reached?
For those of you who are not aware. Bell Canada started throttling their users and resellers without any prior announcement. This is the first time that any ISP ever pissed me off enough for me to actually take action. I decided to send a letter to the Council of Canadians. Here’s the letter that I decided to send and I am also in the process of finding out whom I can cc in Bell to get the point across.
Minister Prentice,
I am against Bell Canada’s internet traffic throttling official starting April 7.
I’ve been an avid user of the Internet for 17 years now and have never been bothered by any policies that my ISP implemented. I’ve always tried to pick the right ISP that suits my need before I sign up so as to avoid headaches later on. Which is why when Bell Canada announced that they are throttling my TekSavvy connection I became enraged.
Not only is it a breach of whatever agreement they have with their resellers, it is also a classical “bait and switch” from the business stand point. If they don’t want the competition and extra usage from 3rd parties, why did they lease out their lines to resellers in the first place? Shouldn’t someone file a class action lawsuit?
In any case, this is the last line. If nothing is done about this, not only will I stop using bell, I will personally make sure that I spread the word on why nobody should use Bell. In my circle, people respect me as an Engineer and listen to my technical recommendations because they trust my understanding in technology. I will personally make sure that all my co-workers (who happens to be engineers in high tech companies and are the most savvy users of Internet), all my Internet acquaintances as well as future recommendations all steer clear of Bell. No, not just Bell Canada, but all of Bell.
It might just be the silver bullet to solve your network congestion problems. If enough people stop using your services, wouldn’t the traffic be freed up for everyone who stayed? Think about that and factor in the future loss of businesses from me and others like me. I am pissed off, not because of losing the ability to download anything fast, not because of intermittent connections. I have survived the good ol’ 28800 baud rate modems which makes me a very patient man. No, I am pissed off because you “bait and switched” and tried to blame your end users.
I am probably the least affected of your throttling. I use the net only for blogging and surfing with the occasional gaming throw in the line. I do enjoy a high speed connection for those just in case scenarios. For that, I pay a price. Your ideal customer. You are losing an ideal customer get it? Now, normally, when anyone pull this on me, I’d just stop doing business and do a clean cut, however, your sneaky tactic ensures that the loss of my business will actually hurt my current ISP: Teksavvy. This is the only reason why I am hesitating about what to do and that is also your fault since you anticipated it.
I am outraged that Canada does not have a policy to protect my ability to communicate and access information freely on the Internet and urge you to take action on this matter immediately.
Every once a while, I’d catch a whiff of a very familiar scent. A scent that forever defines a country. A country where hills are greener than green, skies bluer than blue and the people nicer than nice: New Zealand. The color of nature (or of anything) in New Zealand is more vivid due to the extreme lack of industrial fume. It is especially so in the North Island where the geographical location is perfectly aligned with earth so that the temperature remained in the vicinity of 10 degree year round. Flowers and trees can’t help but bloom to in their brightest color under the reign of such well regulated climate.I haven’t written much about New Zealand because the time I spent there still felt like a dream. It was a place that was marked as the crossroad of my life in my very early memories. The place where I experienced my first cultural shock that led me into a deep depression, but at the same time, it also exists in my memory as the most beautiful country that I have ever lived in. Not to mention the nice people who live there and the principles that they abide by.
The first and most significant shock that I received is their golden rule: “Full belief in whatever you say the first time.” The fact that they can trust a stranger completely until they found a lie was beyond my comprehension. Imagine the turmoil within from a boy who grew up in a culture where we are constantly reminded in the art of deception and deceit. This attitude was so refreshing and alien that I immediately begin formulating ways of ripping people off (I am glad I didn’t.) . Because this shock was so extreme that it manifested itself later in my dealings with people as the truth method.
If a word can be associated with this smell, it will be “Truth”. A bold and strong smell, yet devoid of any intricate intertwining or complexity. It embodies truth. And like truth, it is simple yet you never get tired of it and it never overwhelms your senses, instead it replenishes your energy.
The reason why this smell was so deeply etched in my memory is because back then, my nose was also going through a cultural shock. Unlike Taiwan, New Zealand is devoid of any strong smells in normal indoor or outdoor settings. As such, it took my nose a long time to readjust its sensitivity to be able to smell New Zealand. This fact alone isn’t enough to make me notice it though, it was the bold smell and the combination from the shock in seeing the first mall in my lifetime that forever engraved it in my memory. Yes, I caught the scent while shopping with my mom at the supermarket.
That was 17 years ago and I have tried following the scent whenever I happen to catch a whiff in the air. The closest I’ve come to isolating it is when I stepped into an artisan bread shop. The journey didn’t end there because I couldn’t figure out which bread or which ingredient specifically. There are too many type of bread for me to be able to single it out. The whole shop was permeated by that smell.
The smell of New Zealand brings me back to a fond memory. Even though it is filled with tears and grief, it is warm.
I felt sadness when I looked into your deep blue eyes. A sense reluctance for what I am about to decide. Once again, I replayed the unwinding of events which will become your future. I am no seer or prophet, but the tone and story you’ve been telling me have already locked you in your own personal hell.
I cannot help you out. You will need to help yourself out once in your life. To prove to yourself that it is possible so that you are not constantly looking for others to help you. Genetically speaking, you are more perfect than I am. Situation wise, ours only diverged a few years ago. Yet here I am and there you are. The only thing you lack that I have is the belief in yourself.
Jealousy defined our relationship. Ever since I realized that, I’ve sought of ways that would rid me of this feeling. But no matter how much time have passed, I still get that heart wrenching jealousy whenever I randomly came across one of your pictures. This feeling lasted long after the love had died, past the eventual indifference to finally transcend time. Not even the longing that I had for my first ex lasted this long.
I hate feeling this way. Negativity overwhelming to my otherwise peaceful life. I feel as if I am being reduced back to the person that I was. Frustrating because I want to show you how much I’ve grown yet spiteful at the very thought of wanting to please you. It drives me to seek enlightenment hoping that one of these will release me from your hold. A hold that only I know of.
Maybe I should congratulate you on a job well done? At being so good at it that I had to perform a clean cut to stop all ties with you. To tell you the truth, I was afraid, very afraid. That if I had kept in touch, I would be reduced to a pure being of jealousy. Till this day, it still comes back as strongly as before, yet I am not jealous of anything in the world. No, I’ve become a very giving person in the process. Sharing, giving while trying my hardest to not envy and not need. Making sure that I will no longer be jealous of anything.
Yet whenever someone mentioned you, there’s that feeling again. Each and every time I’d ask myself what I am jealous about? Each time the answer is pure and simple: your understanding of me.
I never knew these people in high school. Except for the five or so people I hanged out with, but even them felt different. I don’t know whether to attribute this to getting older or the fact that the way I see the wold after 10 years of life had completely changed.
I was screwed up back then. Having moved one too many times while still struggling to learn French and English. It forced me to be conscious only about myself. I didn’t have the skills and knowledge to befriend and interact with people in the socially correct way and thus didn’t have any impression of what their personality is like. This reunion, is probably the first time I really get to know them in my life by conversing with them in a language which I now know and can freely express myself with: English. Yep, that’s right. English, my 3rd language.
I’d like to get to know a few of them better. The brief moments of talking was enough to get a glimpse into how interesting they are. I am sure, that a few of us have more interesting things than “got a job” “got married” “Traveled here and there” to say.
The experience was awkward and enlightening at the same time.
How do you express shock with words? The shock that precedes what we call extreme disappointment. It’s that sinking feeling which seems to sink forever. The last straw, the final nail in the coffin.
That’s it, I give up trying. It would’ve been nice if the adverse effect of trying is just not getting anything back. No, the adverse effect of trying is getting pushed backwards twofold by the effort you put in. This happened on EVERYTHING!
Serenity for me exist in the moment after extreme sadness. When you are numb from which ever tragedy that overwhelmed your emotions. In times like this, I’d always remember the three Hebrew words: “_Gam zeh ya’avor_” This too shall pass.
Moments like this changes my words. It also acts as a buffer protecting the reality outside from the turmoils within. It is because I am extremely vulnerable that I am able to write with emotions. I wish I can feel like this all the time, to be able react so extremely to any emotion. But I am afraid to face the pain when it comes to hurting.
So another moment, another day. Reciting these words like the litany against fear. A price you pay for going after what you want. The alternative is a life not worth remembering and this too shall pass.
Being assigned as the Linux product specialist and wanting to permanently establish my mobile life is just the tipping factor required to jump start my inevitable work-life integration. The fact that they both evolves around Linux at the same instance in time blurred the gap to a point that escapes my notice. For years before this, there was always a factor that separated work and life. Either it was the high costs of engineering equipments or the difference of platforms the projects uses. Because of these, when I work on my website or program at home, I can alway make a distinction that this is not work.
So when I woke up in front of my monitor at 3AM in the morning looking at the Linux bash shell, I asked myself what I had been working on before I fell asleep.
Linux
But was it for work or myself? I couldn’t tell. Nor could I make a clear cut work efficiency decision like I did before, when I ignored everything else to chase after some strange error message I encountered at work. It didn’t take long from then till I eventually started doing work at home and testing server configurations for my home at work. The thirst for knowledge drives me on each day until I exhaust myself to a point where I can’t keep my eyes open.
Lethe sleeps on my lap in hopes that I’d pay her more attention.
People at work can’t believe I did it. What kind of a loser works till 2AM at home for work? I can see that question in the jaw dropping expression they gave me. I just can and I finally started enjoying it because I don’t want to separate life and work anymore. Once you crossed the line, there’s no more turning back to when it was just two separate events.
I am sorry friends and families. I am not giving out any presents this year. This year is all about building myself. I’ve never bought myself anything that isn’t necessary so I decided to spend my present budget on myself. In a sense, they are still necessary, because they are considered tools that will bring fun and challenge to me.
That and the stock market crash.
I needed to pamper myself, I needed to know what it feels like to pamper myself. To fully indulge in guilty pleasures without feeling guilty.
Frank Herbert’s books are mind opening. If your mind is prepared to be opened.
I approached Chapterhouse: Dune with dread. The kind which comes on the last day of your vacation as good times become a thing of the past and you have to harden yourself to get back into the turmoils of life. In the end, I am glad that I read the book at this particular point in my life. I connected with the author, Frank Herbert, in a way that transcended textual communication. Him, passing his own revelation through the thoughts of a Reverend Mother. Me, gobbling up the knowledge like a thirsty Gene Besserit acolyte. I am simply amazed by how my recent discoveries followed closely in line with his.
I rejoiced at the concept of naivete. The word punctured some of the still muddy ideas that were still brewing in my mind, giving clarity to my otherwise stunted mental maturity. To see clearly is to see with a child’s naivete and innocence (And this guy is no longer amongst the living).
At the moment, I am hesitant to finish the last two books of the series because they are written by his son using his notes. I’ve read some of Brian Herbert’s prequels of Dune and find it very different from Frank’s writing. Still exciting, but not as mind boggling.
I want to see what Frank sees, but that chance is forever lost. I can only pretend.
I never thought about it this way, but I believe that I have an expertise in driving on snow. Let me explain.
It is no secret that whenever I used to drive to competitions to dance, we’d always get hammered by some sort of snow storm in between cities. They used to be mentally taxing exercise that rendered me completely exhausted when I eventually get to where I wanted to go. Now, they relax me because I have more experience than the average drivers in these condition.
Pair that up with my numerous drift racing in GTA, which loosely models the behavior of cars when they skid in real world and you got me. Mental ward patient who enjoys drifting in a snowed in parking lot of some shopping mall. It is very enjoyable if you don’t mind wasting some gas.
Another benefit of drifting on snow is that you don’t have to suffer the usual wear and tear of tires on asphalt and it is way easier for the car to go out of control. I must enjoy this as much as I can while the snows are still there. Ciao.
I can’t believe that I am still standing in line waiting for my turn since I last mentioned Nintendo’s Wii. This is the first time in my memory where a console remained sold out a year after its release. Where 200 people still lined up outside of the store under the duress of sub zero Canadian winter to cheer like wartime buddies when receiving their coupon to one Wii console.
The demographic of people has changed. The line no longer consists of hardcore enthusiastic gamers, but instead is populated by your average mom and pop types. It’s harder to relate to one another because we are from different age groups, but the stories of each person’s desperate search brings a little warmth to our heart. Especially when we know that the fight is finally over. At least for those of us who managed to get one.
One dad has been everywhere on the island of Montreal, another has traveled to the states. While a whole family was coordinating each other between 4 different stores to enhance their chance of success. That is how I know that several others stores received their stock at the same time and already have a lineup of 200 by 6AM. I have to thank the fact that I live in the middle of nowhere and that the majority of people here aren’t your typical hardcore gamers.
“It will only get worse as the holiday approaches”
At 7:30AM I arrived and placed myself 17th in line when only 20 units was advertised to be in store. I got really lucky at my estimation of time this time, but the same cannot be said if I were to line up outside another store at another part of the city. The accurate analysis boosted my confidence in myself and I am beginning to wonder if my estimation of Ebay Wii price tag of $500 right before Christmas will come true as well and if I will my console when that price is reached.
When will this madness end? How many people bought it for the hype? Will gamers be competing against grandmas from now on to get their hands on one? On one side, I am glad that the general population is getting into gaming, on the other, I am looking at them with disdain thinking “What do they know about gaming?”.
“You are not allowed to have girlfriends till university”
Until this day, I still hold a grudge towards you for this and an even grudge against myself for following. I understand, the cultural background and the reasons behind why he had imposed that on me, but it doesn’t necessary mean that I understand “it”.
What possessed him to follow that belief? The deep rooted Chinese mentality which put career and money first and everything else second? Knowing that he actively enforced that on me back then present the fact that he sincerely believes it. Yet, somehow, my mind refuses to believe a person can place such blind faith on unfounded principles. It’s stupid, and believing in it is stupid.
FUCK YOU for messing up my innocent relationships, imposing your warped view of the world on me and most of all, for trying to brain wash me into believing that all woman are problems.
Why did you forbid such a beautiful thing? Why cause so much negativity in my first experience in this emotion? Do you know that till this day, I never tell you about any of my girlfriends because of the sour memories of what you said? Because all that you said about any of them are NEGATIVE?
You can never show me the positive, but I can depend on you to show me the negative. That is the only time when I will seek you for advice. When I need a view on the negatives that I overlooked. Remember that.
Surrounded by immigrants, I murmured along with others in the room in a failed attempt to sing the national anthem of Canada. In the midst of a supposed happy ceremony to become true Canadian, a troubling question clouded my mind.
Where is home?
I always thought that I’d find the answer when I become an adult. Now that I am a man, I envy the simplistic views of a child.
Every obstacle provides an opportunity to learn and my recent illness smack in the middle of moving is no exception. Why did I come back to the old rental place to nurture my wound? I originally thought that it’s because I don’t have any appliances. Now that the appliances arrived, I still head to the same old place when I get off work. Making me wonder, what’s so valuable there that keeps me coming back for more?
It’s only after I went back and visited a competition did I realize for the first time how different I am from the people there. I bumped into old acquaintances, but the interaction remained polite and awkward. Our relationships never grew past dancing and the topic never strayed from it either.
Most of all, I didn’t want to hear about her.
People seem to enjoy being the first to feed me the bits and pieces while I took mental note of those who probed my other areas of life first to determine that I am not ready to hear the facts yet. Thank you for your consideration.
Photographing kept my mind off the past. The numerous engagement with authority gave me some practice in wiggling around them in order to get what I want. Which is, basically, to take my pictures in peace. I don’t know when it started, but it seems that videotaping and picture taking with a pro camera is severally frowned upon. The organizers grant a certain firm exclusive right to sell the art taken during the competition and these people are very adamant in making sure that no competitor is around to steal their business. When is video taping your friends dancing not allowed?
That kept me busy throughout the night, but when it ended, I am still faced with the same question. The setting always reduce me to a pure emotional being, but why was I upset in hearing that she is doing well in Germany? I secretly wished her to grow fat and alone! The reality didn’t go with what I had in mind which unnerved me. Seriously Peter, I thought you’ve grown out of these petty thoughts. Or maybe, the rebellious part of me, the part that gave me that push to start in dancesport in the first place, wished that I did the same thing. That I am traveling the world and having a blast dancing in different countries. But you did you moron!
It put a part of my character in an hi-relief sharp focus. A sudden searing bright light converged on the letters of a question I once asked myself: “What is wrong with me?”. I know the answer and knew it all along. I just never chose to link the question to its answer. The character flaw that I couldn’t grasp within myself is a very silly pride. It explains a lot of my little quirks.
I like to feel special and unique and have my secrets discovered by people and later worshiped. Feigning a sense of mystery in the process
Believe me, words doesn’t do this silly feeling justice. At least, I have now come to term with this and am at awe at how great I felt today, when this simply… does not exist in my interactions with others anymore. I said to myself: “I chose not to live like that.”
Friday morning. Logged Matrox nadine’s number on my cell and pda.
Friday got to work wait for break and tried to look up entry in pda. The notepad entry dissappeared. PDA reverted to the last time I synched with computer. I will never buy a palmone pda again, it does not have permanent memory.
Scrambled in panic then remembered the backup number in my cell phone and called.
Got the answering machine.
Today, Got a half an hour call before my break with a client insisting me to take his hand and walk through everything.
Finally got off the phone. Called and get a busy number.
Double checked pda, double checked cell phone and called back home to recheck the message again. yes it is the right number.
Called again from cellphone and landline. It’s still busy.
This is nuts.
Screeching and screaming followed by a loud thump. I looked behind to find a couple lying on the ground with their scooters flat on the road.
A moment ago, I was having a conversation with myself about how the Taiwanese culture is all about selfishness. A place where everyone rushes to be first and rules are forgotten. No one helps others.
Take the supermarket line for example. If you let a space big enough to fit one person appear between the person in front of you and you, the person behind will try to squeez in, if you don’t guard it well.
And then that happened and I walked away from them. In that instant, I debated a million reasons to help them, but I didn’t. I had set my goals to help others but I didn’t that night. My excuse? First, I don’t know how, I don’t have a cell phone, nor do I know where the hospitals are or any of the support network in this country. Second, it’s too much trouble, it’s 12 AM and I have to work tomorrow. Third, they are not crying for help, meaning it’s only a light injury.
Fuck my excuses and my inexperience at helping others.
“Why did you come here?” Is the first question and I found the answer, but I wish I didn’t. It opened up doors leading to other questions about myself.
I like being lost. Putting myself in a vulnerable position, forcing myself to trust others and to open up my mind to all possibilities. Without shame I accepted being lost and not speaking the language. I accepted being different and lived while being different.
So much happened, leaving question marks for me to ponder. Soul searching and exploration. I learnt about what I want. What I don’t want. What I desire and what others desire. Mostly, I learnt about what I can do and cannot do.
There is something I want… and I know I can get it. But there’s something else I want, preventing me from this. It all comes back to the choices I make. I make extreme ones, so I can understand how I function like that, then settling back to the middle.
Met alot of travellers going around Europe. When asked about anything exciting that happened. They couldn’t say. They rush into a city for 3 days, watch, observe the building and the people and leave. Forming an impression of the people in their mind based on that. Blocking their heart from others because you won’t see them again the next day…
So much… So much. I don’t know if my brain can digest everything. Maybe the movie Lost in translation can explain part of what I felt.
NB: The political situation is better than I thought. No violent outbreaks or gang duels. Just big fat ass mob rallied in front of the parliament and town halls of different county making noises for a whole week, while making decisions for themselves that the election is declared nullified etc. etc.