Drunken Wench Ramblings

AAARRRRGGGG!!

2007-03-08T22:35:00.001+09:00

My links are gaarn! This sucks! I need to sit and surf the web for ages... :(

Ingrish Teachaar

2007-03-08T22:21:00.000+09:00

I love my English Language students – they crack me up sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I really like all my students, but they have me shaking my head after each lesson simply because they have the wackiest ideas about the English language.

It’s my job to help people to speak English; and one of the ways in which I can help them is on their pronunciation. When you are a native English speaker like me, you have no difficulties differentiating words like: Berry, Belly, and Very. All my Japanese students hear the same word when I say these three.

Belry, Belry, Belry.

No wonder they can’t understand English…

For some of them I have spent a good part of the lesson asking them to close their eyes so that they can’t see my lips when I say Berry, Belly, and Very, but to no avail…. I am starting to wonder if they have different ears to me, because I am clearly saying BERRY, BELLY, and VERY.

(They are so lovely; they try hard, but they still crack me up!)

An old friend of mine, a Japanese gentleman who graduated from the same college as me, is a linguist. He published a book that addresses the same issue that I see in my classes every day. As someone who learnt English when entering Graduate school in the UK, he emphasises the importance for those of us who have very little sound differentiation in our native languages (e.g. Japanese) to learn to listen carefully, before attempting to make the correct sound. (Sound advice! No pun intended…) The Japanese language does not have many consonants, including B, V, F, R, L, S, M, N, and TH, and Koreans (based on my observation) do not seem to get the J and Z sounds, for everything sounds like “jhu”.

I must admit I don’t go pissing myself with laughter when my students find it difficult to pronounce a word, but they do keep me amused with the various sounds they try very hard to make so that they can make themselves understood by us. The pinnacle of my day’s musings was “sympathetic”, which was quaintly pronounced “shimpaceti’ku’u”.

We all have a long way to go....

Leaving Stuff on Memory Lane

2007-01-24T21:31:00.000+09:00

There is a sushi shop in Ootsuka, North Tokyo, where I did a few laps of heavy drinking in the pre-AA days. Its one of those places where most of the customers order alcoholic beverages before midday: beer, sake, Shochu, or Soju. No one orders food there, only Jinro, gali (pickled giner), and “just one more for the road”. Even the sushi chef, Taisho*, has had a few by 1pm.

Ootsuka, a rough, working class neighbourhood, is close to my old, old, old, flat I lived in nearly 6 years ago. I had not visited this area for ages until recently. I was there doing some spot “language consulting” work which involves me introducing potential English language students to teachers who can teach in their neighbourhood. The agency sets the time and place, and I am just there to explain the payment system. Nothing to it, but it takes one hour, on mostly weeknights after 8pm, or 9pm.

On Thursday last week I found myself standing outside the Ootsuka Sushi “Bar” at 9:45pm. Its peak drinking time for most of the punters. I know, for I was a long standing regular there at the turn of the last century. A year or two ago, had I found myself standing in the same place my mind would have jumped straight to the thought of a nice Go of Hakkaisan sake, but that day my intensions were clear: have some dinner, and head off home to my nice, middle class suburb.

As soon as I walk in the Taisho asks me what I'd like to eat. I order tea and begin to shout out my order one by one Toro (fatty tuna), Uni, Engawa, Hamachi, etc. I ordered nine items all together just to test if he could remember it all.

“Hai-yo” (sure), he exclaimed, his hands moving up and down the display case picking out the various fish in my order. Some of the other punters, already on their third or fourth drink, started to laugh. “Taisho, how many orders can you remember all at once?”

“I can remember about 11, or 12.”

“Taisho, how about how many drinks you've had today?”

Taisho, never missing a beat with his hands moving smoothly through his rhythm of putting together my raw fish dinner, said, “I remember only important things, and how many I've had is irrelevant. Oops, it's nearly 10pm; I better catch up to you guys! Hey, I'll have some cold sake”.

A minute later he has a glass of clear, slightly thick liquid, and is almost finished with my small order of nine.

Amazing. It truly amazes me how some people are functional alcoholics. I know one when I see one, for I used to be one of them. The dude remembers 11 items at once – must be rote memory – but can't remember how many he's had that day. No wonder I used to enjoy losing track of time, sipping my next one for the road, and eating nothing but pickled ginger and a few slices of sashimi in a grubby little neighbourhood. It's so easy to leave the outside world and to sit down on a stool opposite the tipsy Taisho ordering food after drink after food.

You leave your wet your wet umbrella and the day's trouble outside the sushi bar in Ootsuka; and you never have to worry about remembering what you ordered, so long as it's only 12 items or less. (Hell, no one there would order that much food. Drinks, perhaps, but never food!)

After finishing the last piece of salmon sushi in my mouth I stood up asking for the bill, paid, and bid the happy punters and the Taisho goodbye leaving them with their next one for the road. It was a nice little trip down memory lane, but on reflection it's easier to see that some things are best left where they are: in the past.

I slid the wooden door behind me, smiled to myself and left Ootsuka, booze, and Taisho too – my memory lane – to take a train back to my new house in the middle of a squeaky clean, family oriented, quiet neighbourhood in Southwest Tokyo.

*Taisho has the same meaning as “Governor” or “Gov” as loosely used by people from the southern parts of Britain.

Lost In Thought

2007-01-18T17:37:00.000+09:00

Have I ever talked about “Blind Cycling”? Probably not.

I am frequently lost in thought; I often miss the station I’m supposed to get off; I take the express train instead of the local one, get on the train going the wrong direction, and the list goes on.

I’m not only absent minded about where I am going, but also what I wear. Many a times have I left the house in my slippers, worn odd socks, worn my skirt back to front, because while my body exists in the physical world and functions to accomplish daily tasks, my mind has already removed itself to enter the realm of my vast imagination. (A bit Alice-like I suppose). I am a classic introspective introvert, a group often linked to the “absent minded professor”.

This morning, for example, I was on my way to my brother’s office lost in thought and having a “conversation” with him in my head. I often rehearse in my mind what I am going to say, and what I anticipate him to say, etc., when I noticed that something was missing at the top of the stairs at the station. Not only was I at the wrong end of the platform from my usual transfer, I was at the wrong station. Somehow my body just drifted off the train, my legs moved independently from the frontal lobe activities, and I was standing at the wrong place, at the wrong time as if unbeknownst to me I had been transported by aliens from one dimension to another.

My eccentricities go even further than this: it was raining this afternoon when I got to Dotour, a cheaper Japanese version of Starbucks, where I usually pick up my “coffee flavoured cake” in a semi-recycled cup. The polite Japanese placed a grey, plastic bucket just on the inside of the door – a perfect place to put my wet umbrella. Wrong…. On my way out of the shop I noticed for the first time that the umbrella stand was on the other side of the vessel that contained my umbrella. What the hell did I put my brolly in then? It turned out that my precious umbrella was sitting in a rubbish bin along with someone’s old receipt and a few snotty tissues.

Typical….

It is at moments like these when I have to put the breaks on my untamed mind. I know that by living in my head I am far from living in the moment: the here and now. The place where real people live: the place where real people are reading the morning papers; the place where real people are twitching their nose ready to sneeze; the place where real mothers struggle up the station stairs with one small child in one hand, and a bag of shopping in the other; the place where real homeless people rummage through the rubbish bins looking for half left over sandwiches; the real place where real things – good and bad – happen. This place is the real source of my inspiration, my excitement, my happiness, my pain, my sorrow, and my snotty, runny nose on cold mornings.

Not my ruddy head.

Going back to blind cycling: what the hell is that? People who are visually impaired have really sharp senses, because they are missing one of the most relied upon sensory organ by humans to give them information about the outside world: sight. As a way for me to come back into the real world (apart from meditating), and to heighten my sense of being in the “here and now” I take my bicycle down a stretch of familiar side street and cycle with my eyes closed: Blind Cycling”.

Blind cycling not only tests your faith and ability to remember the road EXACTLY the way it is, but also it makes you very aware of all the small changes going on around you. The slight bump on the road, perhaps caused by an unexpected pebble, a pedestrian turning into the street, your exact position on the street based on the changes in the air speed as you pass the space between the side garden of one house to the edge of the garage door on the next. Sound, smell, and balance working together with the picture you have captured in your head.

You should try it once; it’s quite scary, but liberating.

Trusting one’s ability to live fully in the here and now is hard for someone who is naturally inclined to live in a world of abstract connections , but I think it’s all worth it, for I would never be able to gather the pieces of the puzzle to make up the painting in my head.

It’s blind cycling on days like this that brings me back to where I belong: here and now.

I'm Back

2007-01-14T00:13:00.000+09:00

And I am completely sober; haven't had a drink in over a year. Not a single drop, which is not bad for an alcoholic, right?

Looking back over the past year life has been more than a perfect excuse for me to return on the piss and trip my sorry arse away, but as life goes (just as it does for others)I have to live one day at a time: a good friend commited suicide leaving me a note; insanity to be in a relationship with a colleague for the reason that I was "lonely"; getting Shingles twice resulting in residual neuralgia; return of asthma attacks which ended in me passing out at our office lobby; excessive weight-loss (being 41kg at 162cm made me look like a crack whore!); missed days at work; my brother's arrest for possession of "illegal substances -- he was locked up for over a month; dating an ex-coke head (which ended in me running away from the relationship -- again); quitting my 6figure a year job to follow my heart and become certified as a professional SCUBA diver in Flores, Indonesia; the death of my unborn nephew, followed shortly by my brother's girlfriend committing suicide; tax man freezing my bank account for unpaid back taxes from 3 years ago when I was living in Hong Kong; working as a freelance translator, English teacher, interpretor, researcher, and copy editor -- basically anything to put food in the Kitty bowl every night!

SHIT! Sounds like hell, huh? But I had good fun last year, because I did all of this with no booze, prozac, pot, benzo's, white drugs, binging/vomiting, or anorexia. Just green tea and coffee. Isn't that amazing? Green tea and Coffee.

I have no excuse now not to continue myy writing. I stilll see shit going on around me, but I also see a lot more happiness in the world. I started these ramblings for a reason. And so long as the reason still remains, I might as well keep it up.

On a small note: one of my DWFs, A, is getting married next year. All three of us (DWFs) had dinner at the end of last year to celebrate the good news. A asked me why I stopped writing for a while; his take on it was that I am no longer angry. I disagree. Self righteous anger has been a huge part of my adulthood (and maybe slightly before) but the continuous motion of my pen comes from a different, unknown source. It's not pain, anger, or bitterness; it is something much simpler. Just like the Tao, it just is. Perhaps that is why all my emotions ended up on here, exposed like a dissected frog. It's OK; it's not the end of the world. I don't know who is reading this post at the moment, and neither do you know me. But at this moment, we both "are".

We are.

Strange Crimes... Strange Products

2006-09-22T12:15:00.001+09:00

I had a good laugh when I came across this site where inmates place an ad to find a penpal/onanistic toy. It's not the ads, nor is it the concept of people who are locked behind bars for the next decade or so looking for snail-mail lovers that did the trick. It's reading their faux pas that did it for me.

When you read crime descriptions (handed down to the inmates by the courts) like "theft by unlawful taking over $300", or "delivery of cocaine with a deadly weapon" it makes you wonder WHO THE FUCK comes up with sillyness like this! So if I stole $299.99 is it classified as lawful theft? If I delivered cocaine with my bicycle it's kosher? I thought that stealing anything is a crime, and in most places transporting coke without a legit license is certainly something that the DA would not approve of. For fuck's sake, it's not exactly delivering for Pizza Hut now, is it? ("Oh, but officer, I was only doing a summer job for a Crack House; I was working only for tips" is obviously not an excuse.) Just call it what it is: Theft; Drug Trafficking.

None of these irrelevant frills like "unlawful" or "deadly weapons". please! When was a crime "lawful", and when did weapons not have the potential to harm others? Even junked up copy-writers working in the orient do not come up with this crap.

Check out the "homosausage" sold in Japan! Honestly, this is not a bad joke -- homosausages are a well known brand of "fish" sausages. (Where do they find these copywriters!)

I also found some mucos pills... is there no end to this? (Oh well, they keep me amused on rainy days.)

New Found Freedom

2006-09-15T22:14:00.000+09:00

I am trying to be a bit more difficult with the guy I am seeing these days. After only 2months of dating, I fucked off to Indonesia for 10weeks. I came back, and now I am expecting him to put more of his heart on the line (even though I have explicitly stated that I will be moving out of Japan soon... whenever that may be.) I told him that I would do the same too; I'm like that.

I will ask him out to the cinema tomorrow. If he refuses, I think I will throw a bit of a sulk. In the past I tried hard to not be a difficult person, but my new found freedom from excessive drinking habits makes it OK for me to act this way. Why? Go and ask the "12 Step Programers", they seem to herald and praise crazy actions and decisions -- so long as you are sober!

Sobriety rules!

(Keep coming back, DWR. Keep coming back...)

Honesty Hat: I have no idea why I wish to be difficult around this person. Maybe I

Ask No Questions, Tell No Lies...

2006-06-22T12:15:00.000+09:00

What is it like to be emotionally "unstable" by most people's standards? What is it like to be a recovering alcoholic/junkie/bulimic? Hmm... Good question. I don't know any different, so it's hard to explain.

I found an interesting site dedicated to deception in relationships. Reading

I guess now you know what it's like to be me...

Heart's Desire

2006-06-15T05:51:00.000+09:00

Do you have a dream? Have you ever wondered if you are in the right job, the right apartment, the right country? I have. All the time.

Instead of living my life in a dream I decided to do something about it. I have always wanted to retire early to persue a life as a professional diver in the recreational diving industry. I do not belong in an office; at the end of this month I will be flying to Flores, Indonesia to follow my dreams. I know that it sounds a bit mad to quit one's job to go diving for 3 months... but it's something that I have to do.

It's my heart's desire.

Afternoon Tea With "M"

2006-05-21T05:26:00.000+09:00

"M" is an idealist, just like me. I first met "M" back in early January this year. He had just come back from his pilgrimage to the middle east over the winter holidays: "Christmas in Kabul" was the theme of his travel last year. M is one of those who value collecting experiences in life versus the accumulation of material wealth, false prestige, and superficial acquaintances. And I admire his lifestyle choices, which is one of the reasons that I enjoy his company even though he can be very intense, cynical, sarcastic, and dry. Underneath his intensity, he does, however, have a good sense of humour.

He's just serious by nature.

M knows that my brother is behind bars, and his take on this situation for me was:"Would you quit trying to run your brother's life?".

His statement was probably the most sensible, honest advice that I got over my brother's fiasco.

In the end my brother got off with a 3 year suspended sentence. It didn't stop him from drinking and driving that evening. Once again he was lucky to get off scott-free, but I think that it is probably only a matter of time before something else comes up with him... namely tax evasion. Today I have other things to worry about in my life: me.

**************************************************************

Today I no longer have my afternoon tea sessions with M, for he has left the country to pursue his dream of starting his own internet business in the western orient. I still get emails from him frequently... always with sound advice on many things.

I miss my afternoon mini-lectures/discussions with M...

Busted!!

2006-03-21T23:07:00.000+09:00

No, not me. I'm still here. It's my younger brother, BK, who got busted for possession of 34g (just over 1 ounce) of marijuana, and 5 plants, three of which were post harvest. The legal system in this country is draconian to say the least. My brother was arrested on March 2nd, when the police came to his home with a search warrant, and he has been in solitary confinement with no access to the outside world apart from his lawyer who can talk to him only through a perspex wall.

And ofcourse his conversations with his legal council are monitored by the po-leeese.

If you are caught growing pot in this country, the pigs try to automatically add a bonus to your possession charges called "with intent to supply" and the judge has deferred his access to us twice. I remember doing some research ages ago on how the police handle detainees -- i.e. people who have not officially been charged with a criminal offence. It ain't pretty...

Although my brother's arrest was on March 2nd, and legally he cannot be detained without access to family for more than 22days, the legal system conveniently discounts weekends as a "day". His lawyer told me that the earliest that we could possibly see him will be at his bail hearing on either March 28th or 29th. If he's granted bail it will be somewhere in the order of 1.5million yen (US$13K) to 3million max (US$26K). That's IF the judge decides that he can go between now and his court cases...

To top it all, we all have to hide this from his company, his girlfriend ends up in hospital with inflamed kidneys from the stress, the wench mum has turned into a zombie, his assistant is rushing around left, right, and centre to keep the lid on things....

I don't need this in my "early" sobriety.

I will be 5 months sober tomorrow. And I guess that my brother, when he gets out, will be joining me at my NA meetings too....

I'm too fucking tired of sobriety. When will it END!!! (I need to get away from this crazy shit for a permanent holiday the sun.)

Inventory Management and Drugeconomics

2006-02-27T07:29:00.000+09:00

Yes, once again I am pissed off. This time I am pissed off at the convinience store "consumer business" industry.

There is a brand of energy bar/cereal bar that I found at AM-PMs that I really like; it's got rice crispies, dried fruit, and covered in excuisite white chocolate. There is also my local Family Mart that sold boxes and boxes of Granola Bars which is also something that I like to eat. In fact on most days all I eat are the white chocolate energy bars and granola bars. (yes, I have a very strange diet). Before I went to Oz I could find my food stash by the dozens at these convinience stores with NO trouble, and I would often go out and buy my nutrients in large batches "just in case" I ran out -- a sensible move, considering what has happened to the drastic shift in availability since my return from Australia.

These FECKERS DONT HAVE *MY FOOD* ON STOCK!!!!! I have gone to the local family mart for the past 6 days and not one single box of Granola bars was on the shelf at any time of the day! Instead, some dip-shit decided to order 8 boxes of Branflakes instead (can you believe it?). Branflakes. And those 8 boxes have not moved since Wednesday when I first went back in there to stock up on my granola bars. Why do I know they have not shifted? I noticed that the box on top was slightly damaged, and that damaged box has been there - right on top of the pile - all this time.

I don't need a degree in economics, or business administration, to work out that if I am selling a lot of one thing, I should order some more of the same shit before it runs out. I do not suddenly decide to order Butt-pluggers like "branflakes", in large volume, that shift about as slowly as they do in the human digestive system. Whose the procurement planner for my local family mart? I want to sit them down and give them a pep talk about slow moving and obsolete inventory (SLOB) versus fast moving, high turnover stock that brings in the cash -- FAST -- and reduces your liability (i.e. shit sitting around that doesn't sell). Even junked up crack dealers who consume over half their "stock" know not to go out and score a litre of Methadone to push onto their "customers". Most of them are going to move their "loyalties" as fast as I can say "Smack, Crack, and Pot" and get their precious rocks from somewhere else.

And as for the AM-PM that no longer stocks my favourite cereal bar... I know your marketing strategy. I know that you buy new stuff to see if it sells, and if it does, you just cut the supply, create a drought, and bring it back on the shelves when the demand is soooo high that if you hitch up the prices by a small-ish margin you expect us, the consumers, to not notice. Yeah, and we are so into your commodity that we will pay any price to get it. And you know it too... Sneaky buggers! You're like the drug barron, or "governments" who have a lot of support from the agricultural industry, who just holds onto the commodity so that the market is dry for a while, claiming some BS, like "oh we have had poor supply this year from the producers" as you create mountains and mountains of the goodies in some out of the way warehouse, and suddenly flood the market with your stash that now costs 20% more. And yes, we are sooooo stupid enough to buy your crap at hiked up prices because we NEED IT by the time you make it available to us.

Convinience Store Managers my arse!!! You are just ex-drug dealers who are now working in a "legit' biz" because you either got busted and sentenced to X hours community service working in the local convinience store, or you were so junked up that you couldn't multi-task your habit and the illicit drug-trading industry, and are only academically qualified to work as the manager of a franchise convinience store!! Whichever way, you all piss me off!!

Why am I pissed off? It's coz I can't get my stash of cereal bars/granola bars anymore!! Get it straight, boys and girls! Jeez, no wonder I have a college degree and a normal job. But if I ever get fired, I know can always fall back and use my BS. in Drugeconomics (with Hon.) from the University of Skid Roof, London.

Blast From The Past

2006-02-25T22:07:00.000+09:00

I was looking back at my new year's resolution from 2005 only to realise that I kept 10 out of the 19 promises that I made to myself. WOW! That's over 50%!!!

Sweeeeeeet!

Now I could be a sweet person and let you know which ones I kept, but I will just be me and leave it to your imagination as to what I did and didn't manage to do last year.

Ok, it's a bit too late for a "New Years Resolution" but might as well make them, just so that I can break them, I guess...

Bitch less. Yes, I *am* aware that I complain a lot, but when I am pissed off I always feel that I have a justification, which is probably not a good sign.
Spend less. It sounds strange coming from someone who hates shopping, but I did buy that really expensive persian rug last year...
Work harder(?). Umm... yes, I do slack off at times. I just don't mention it here.
Stay away from trouble. (Not that I got into trouble last year, or the year before, and the year before that, I guess.)
Call the Wenchmum at least once a week. And I promise not to make a reverse charge call to her.
Take less benzodiazepines. I shouldn't really be tripping on diazepam at the office when things are slow, right?
Eat more healthily. Sustaining on bread, soup, cereal bars, and fruit juices is probably not too good for my skin.
Exersise as much as I did the year before last. I haven't done any excersise since Oct. 2005, which is probably not good for my metabolism.
Sort out my library. (That's just given you a hint about what I didn't do last year.)
Write more. I guess I didn't write much last year on this blog, huh? I've got far too many blogs going all over the place at various sites; I'm so scattered and inconsistent that I really need to just focus on a few things and stick to it, I guess. So I will probably pull the plug on a few over the course of a few days, weeks, or months.

So I guess that's it. We'll see how many I can keep this year -- if I can do 6, that's an improvement from last year, and I think I will be happy with that. See! I'm not bitching already! But there again, I have to wait till Dec. 31st before I can say that I bitched less this year, I s'pose...

Back Before You Knew I Was Gone

2006-02-24T11:18:00.000+09:00

I just came back from the Australia, where I attended a 1/2 day conference in the Gold Coast, and 2 day meeting with my colleagues in Sydney. It was just so refreshing to be in the southern hemisphere basking in the sun on most days, only to come back to the shitty weather in Tokyo...

Yeah, why is it that I live in this cold weather?

I should be genetically acclimatised to warm/hot, high altitude, equatoral environments with two seasons -- dry and wet, but where have I lived? Cold, miserable lowlands with 4, or 5 seasons, all of which are relatively cold. Now how does that work out? Why are most "industrialised" places located in areas predisposed to shitty weatherfronts? Whose stupid idea was it to build a city of over 12 million people in a place that has 6 seasons (winter, spring, typhoon 1, summer, typhoon 2, autumn) and sits on a junction of 3 tectonic plates? (yes, we have a minor earthquake every month)

Ok, today I am pissed off because I had to go through Syndey airport and buy a bottle of wine for my friends and my brother, but none for me. I had to just walk past the gallons and gallons of beautiful booze that oooooozed yumminess, and a good drunken night with my DWFs, and just "Let Go, and Let God"... (?!)I mean, I just sat in a warm, dry, easygoing fun place like the Gold Coast, even though it was for work, only to return to a cold miserable high risk city via a rack of duty free booze???

Not fair...

(If there *is* a god, and it's reading this blog, would you please just remove the alocoholic, junkie gene from me so that I can just carry on with my life like a NORMAL person??? Thx. DWR)

Dedication To Isis, The Godess of Love

2006-02-17T23:33:00.000+09:00

(I wrote this poem for a wonderful friend back in March last year, and I never got the chance to share it with him. Today I wanted to share it with you after I revisited it. I'm not a poet, but I thought I wanted to share with you the way I feel about the eternal subject of love... I hope you like it. DWR)

"Only Without Darkness Can We See Light"

Only without sight can we hear the lark sing at dawn,
or the watch the cuckoo find a friendly host for rearing its offspring,
or understand two swans, soulmates, dancing by the lake to show their eternal love,
Their love that extended beyond Venus' gaze during the cool summers.

Only without warmth can we appreciate the long lazy afternoons
spent lazily in the parks feeding our lovers sweet stawberries,
and drinking spicy champaigne as we watch small children bath in the cool pools.
Their parents watching over with love that cannot be unbridled.

Only without enlightenment can we appreciate that time is abstract.
Time with names like "O'clock" "Seconds" or "Days" bear no relevance, for the sun is shining and providing humanity with all the energy for suvival,
For you, for me, and for all our progeny.

Only without pain can we apprecate the feeling of release;
Pain in our heart, pain in our bowels, but wherever the pain,
Without experiencing such at least once in one's live,
We will live a life of regret and sorrow, for
Only without darkness can we see light.

Close your eyes and reminesce of the days that you were torn, tears streaming from your eyes. That green boulder of jealousy and anger growing each and every day inside of you that which you cannot control.
But remember also that without darkness there will be no light;
and without light, there will be no shadow to remind you of the pain.
Only when we heal from our wounds that we can look back,
Smile, and remember that only without darkness, can we see light.

========================================

I didn't write this in a depressive state; I wrote it when I was starting to feel optimistic and came to realise that waking up every morning, looking up at the ceiling I no longer prayed to God, or the universal energy in my case, why they had not grantd my wishes, and let me die in peace.

Today, I wake up, open my eyes and check that I'm still alive, because I no longer have a death wish. I want to live - shitty life or not, but the point is that I want to live, because I know what lurks in the darkness.

I want to thank my dear friend, O, for inspiring me to write this poem in the first place. Tnank you dear friend, for giving me hope.

Wassgoinon???

2006-02-16T08:47:00.000+09:00

Yeah, what IS going on in my life? I just realised that I haven't really written anything this year! Shit, there has to be something I can bitch or rant on about; life can't possibly be peaceful and "happy, happy, joy, joy" all day long?!?

'Course it's not. Today I am pulling a sickie, and the BS that I gave my boss today is that I have "deblitating period pains". It's true that I have the "painters in" but is it keeping me in bed? Nah, I am happily going up and down the stairs to feed the cats, get myself coffee, go to the loo, etc.

It's just that I can't be arsed to go into the office when it's raining and dreary outside. I can sit here quite happily working from home and spending a few moments to just sit here and blog about everything and nothing.

Every time its dark and dreary outside and my motivation has gone down the rubbish shoot faster than a bag of stash in a drug raid, I always remember the Carpenters song: "rainy days and mondays always gets me down". Yeah, shit, Karen, you got it straight darling! Rainy days and mondays gets me down too, and isn't it ironic that both of us have problems with eating.

Yeah, and you feel really, really down when you flush your stash down the toilet, or throw it down the rubbish shoot thinking that you are busted for possession only to realise that the violent banging on your door accompanied by "POLICE, OPEN UP!" were just your drugged up friends pulling a prank on you coz they've taken so much speed that they've been up for the past 52hours, and they have nothing better to do.

And today it's not the speed freaks and their silly pranks that get me down... it's rainy days and mondays. I guess I've moved upwards (somehow) in life, huh?

Warped Valentines...

2006-02-14T17:04:00.000+09:00

Yup, today's that day when MEN give gifts to WOMEN as a way of expressing their feelings of love and affection. Usually they are flowers or chocolate; sometimes it's a bit more but in general it's the boys who shower their girlfriends with gifts and all is lovey-dovey, full of hearts, full of kisses, and well... all is rosey, even though it's so commercial these days that the clued up people get pissed off with "Hallmark" ads that bombard our airwaves as soon as the Christmas/New Years' fever is over.

Well, gentlemen of the West, and anywhere on this planet where my previous discription is the "norm" I am going to reveal to you what "equal rights" and "feminist movements" perversly misinterpreted by the commerecial sector, and by stubborn, sexist men have manifested in my country: "Balenta'in Day (Valentine Day)" and "Howaito Day (White Day)".

So what happens on Balenta'in Day in Japan? Women give out chocolate to men. And there are two types of "gifts": "Honmei" chocolate, and "Giri-choco". Women give out Honmei chocolate to their boyfriends, husbands, and basically men that they have a romantic interest in, and the Giri-choco is handed out to any bloke that you know -- usually it's given out to your colleagues, casual friends, school mates, etc. It sounds crazy when considering that among the developed nations the average income of a woman is only 55% that of men according to the World Bank's World Development Report (2003, I think, but let me confirm...) So basically we earn less than men and have to hand out chocolate to the male population like the World Food Program hands out rice and grains to developing countries. And just like these "International Funding" organisations, (and life in general, I guess) nothing is given out for free - especially the "Giri-choco". The word "Giri", literally translated to "duty of gratitude" implies that there are strings attached to the Godiva truffles that are handed to you.

And that's where "Howaito Day" comes into play.

"Howaito Day" (white day) is on March 14th, and this is the day when the men who received the chocolate bonbons give the low income earners (that's women to you) chocolates in return. And in general we receive white chocolate just to go with the name of the "honourable payback day". How fucked is that?! I knew that we lived in a hyper consumerist society, but using a saint's day to sell chocolate, flowers, and cards AND creating another non-existing saint's day to sell even MORE commodities!!!

(I wonder if the Vatican gets kick-backs from Hallmark, Godiva, and all the rose growers' association/lobby group?)

And if anyone's wondering? NO! I didn't give out a single thing today (apart from my piece of mind on the matter of cheesy, phoney meanlingless customs), because unlike last year, this year I don't have anyone to give a proper valentine's gift: the one with no strings attached.

(again...)

Splittin' Headache

2005-12-27T01:18:00.000+09:00

I've had this SPLITTIN' Headache now for nearly a month. I've got no idea where it came from, or what it's doing here. It's like a migratory bird that found it's "breeding ground" for the spring and is dancing around to empty music looking for a mate so that it can lay eggs and raise it's young in my cranium. And there are lots of these fuckin' birds in my head which is pissing me OFF!! (well, so far the only consolation is that these headache birds have not shat all over my brain. Now I will *NOT* be a happy camper if that happens!)

OK, strange metaphores of crappin' birds aside, merry christmas, happy new year, and all that Jazz to everyone and anyone. My name is DWR, and I am living everyday with a fucking headache. Please don't mind me, I'll be fine. What? Have I tried Tylenol Plus? No. I'm allergice to non-steroidal anti-imflammatory drugs. To you and me that's aspirin, ibuprofen, acetoaminophen, etc. The only pain killers I can take are opioids -- yes. The codienes and the morphines and the cool funky drugs that no one will give me because I'm a bit of a junkie...

Oh, I've tried Imigrane just in case it's a migraine; it does nothing but cost me lots of money so I said "sod that" and left it sitting in my medicine cabinet. They won't give me refund on drugs that don't work.

Bastards!

But there again... street level drug dealers don't give you refund when they sell you crap drugs that are cut with Baby Lax so I shouldn't really expect any different from the guys that have a "license" to sell.

I like that: "Licensed Drug Dealers".

(oh yeah... I'm one of those too in the UK!! Shit, I forgot.)

The Juicy Gossip

2005-11-24T22:11:00.000+09:00

Well, actually I wouldn't even call it juicy, nor is it really gossip coz no one in the office knew what was going on between us, and we were seeing each other for only a brief period. 2months? 10 weeks? Something like that, and during that brief period there were gaps when I was in Santa Clara, and he in Boston.

So here it goes: the conclusion for "From Speed Dating To Building Shelves".

While Randy was in Boston, my asthma got from bad to worse, it was just plain and simple: I was not in good shape. I was in constant pain, could not move, and to top it all I just could not sleep -- even with the sleeping pills and the booze (I know, dangerous combination, but anything to alleviate the pain!!). I was still struggling and going into work everyday, but there was one morning when my body just shut down. It was embarrassing to say the least, but I basically collapsed in the lobby of our office (a pharmaceutical company, by the way) because I couldn't find my inhalor in my messy bag. The poor security guard dude was freaking out, and wanting to call an ambulance, but being a veteran asthmatic, I asked him to take me to the first aid room where I could get my breath back. I just couldn't speak, for there was hardly any air coming out of my lungs. I also knew then that I have to return to sobriety -- pronto -- coz my body was going to go on a major strike.

Anyway, upon return, I noticed how Randy always seemed tired, etc. and I guess that he didn't really get much rest when he stayed with his family for 10 days. (You know how families are like, right? Spending 12hrs is just about enough) And now that he's back there is his sick girlfriend who is short of air, complaining about the pain saying "oh, be careful, don't touch me there coz it hurts" and totally going whacko coz she is going into alcohol withdrawal at the same time; I guess he couldn't handle that shit.

Fair enough.

So I told him that maybe he should spend more time at HIS place, and not mine, and perhaps we need time alone to just be ourselves again. We were exchanging emails every day, but I just thought they were just "cordial" like two friends writing to each other I instinctively new what was going to happen next. After a week had gone by, some of his "things" that he left at my house just were starting to get on my nerves coz it was a mess. Up until this point, my tolerence level was slightly challenged, but the events that followed really pissed me off:

One afternoon after my visit to the doctor's I came home only to find that there was something strange about my house. I just could not put my finger on it, but I could definately sense something was missing... It had turned out that Randy had come to my house using the spare key, which I lent him some time ago, to collect some of this belongings before he went on one of his business trips.

WTF?

AND (icing on the cake here) he never told me he was coming, he never left a note, and he never mailed me/phoned me/contacted me using any means to let me know that he had come over to the house to collect my stuff!!! I was close to freaking out, I can tell you!! Boy was I pissed off!! If I was one of those paranoid types who had done too much drugs, or I was going through some severe alcohol withdrawal symptoms at the time I would have thought that he had bugged my place, placed pin-sized cameras in every room so that he could stalk me from a distance, or sell some of my more embarassing images on-line.

Luckily he is not that kind of person so I am not exposed on Rotten.com puking my guts out after eating a meal. We met after one of my "XA" meetings and decided to call it a day. He said that he didn't want me out of his life, and that he wanted us to be friends, but he just didn't have the time or the "space" to have me in his life.

Fair enough.

Was my ego bruised? Probably not, I didn't cry, I didn't feel down, I didn't go out and drink a bottle of scotch. I don't know why... either my ego is just too strong and too big to take a pussy flick like that too seriously, or it has just been bashed and battered so many times that it's just got used to it.

Dunno...

Shingles, Asthma, Fractured Ribs, and Rehab...

2005-11-21T22:44:00.000+09:00

There you have it; that's my life for the past month and a bit now. I redeveloped shingles, the topical medication prescribed to me triggered my asthma, I was coughing and grasping for air so much that I fractured my rib, and now I am on the Wagon (again) because my body is just telling me to fuck off with the boozing and all the other abuse.

(If only I could have a conversation with my liver and my immune system, I would tell *them* to fuck off and do their job, otherwise they will be fired and replaced by a contractor, or even outsourced to India!!)

Oh yeah, and I am now back to being single again. In the end things just didn't work out with R. so I am back to my old life of me, my cats, and my library full of books.

My body is telling me to sleep now (yes, my body has me right underneath its thumb, so to speak) so I will continue with the "what happened to DWR and the guy she was dating???" story tomorrow.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

THAT'S IT!! NO MORE FUCKIN' SPAM!!!

2005-10-20T17:18:00.000+09:00

Unfortunately it has been my fault for neglecting this site for a while and letting those spammin' bastards defecate on my site. Well fuck off to you, spammers, I hope you die a horrible death.

Anyway, back to the pleasant me. I have been working, wheezing, hanging out with my boyfriend and doing anything that a normal 30something person does. I came back from San Francisco in one piece, my job is getting a little bit mundane, but bearable, and I look forward to holding hands with Randy (my boyfriend) on our way home.

Aaaaahhh.

BUT there is one complaint I have of Randy. He semi-lives in my house and is already got plans to redecorate it with his high-tech electronic garb. First he wants a 65 inch TV in my living room (which will end up covering two of my windows in the living room) surround sound 7.1. Wireless speakers everywhere so that I can listen to music on the toilet, TV in the bedroom, oh, and ofcourse wireless internet hotspot with our own firewall, or something, robotic vacuum cleaner that runs around all day cleaning the house, and a DVD cam corder to film me doing mundane things like chopping up vegetables (and a little bit more, which I will leave to your imagination...)

I live in a "girly" house with flowers on my wallpaper, salmon pink walls and a chandelier, it would be tasteless to have a hybrid of a Barbie Doll House and the inside of the Starship Enterprise!!! I know I am going to lose the battle of the TV, but I will have no larger than a 32inch!!! I will get an antique chest and a very large painting on the wall so there is NO TV in the bedroom, and if he wants to set up his network security and WIFI and encrypted locks on our windows. I will concede.

Is this what it's like to be married to Bill Gates??

Fashionably Late

2005-09-19T15:26:00.000+09:00

I forever seem to be fashionably late. My flight leaves at 16:10, but I am still on the way to the airport at 3pm. ETA? Sometime around 15:40.... Oh well, I'm going by business class and I have no check-in luggage; do not really care.

I'm tired as fuck....

Off to San Fransisco for a 2 day meeting. Only TWO DAYS and I am back. Like I said, tired as fuck. I hope they have loads of booze on the flight; I know United... they tend to be tight.

From Speed Dating To Building Shelves

2005-09-15T23:42:00.000+09:00

I just realised that my life is extremely unstable, and very dynamic. Not long ago I was extremely single and looking to go on something as out of character as Speed Dating, and next thing I know I have handed the spare keys to a man who spends nearly half of the week at my place.

WTF?

One of the things about working long hours and being a workaholic (along with having other "-holic" traits) is that even if you are working in the same office as the man you are dating/seeing you just never have the time to see them. Even if you are working on the SAME FLOOR... well, you just don't see them. Today was the first time this month that I saw "R" at the office.

And yes, he does work on the same floor as me.

Anyway, I was wondering how things progress in life considering that R and I have become close over the past few weeks. Failed speed date => date that went well => Dating (in general) => spending nearly 3 or 4 days a week together =>...

Spare Keys.

That's the thing isn't it? When you give the spare keys to your home to someone, it seems to show that you are involved with them on a more permanent basis. I used to get Nick's spare keys at times and wonder "hang on, I know him only Xmonths, but he trusts me with his keys...."

I wonder how Nick is these days....

Psycho Bitch: The Sting

2005-09-11T09:18:00.000+09:00

Ok, back from my bout of depression and self pity; sorry bout that.

So let's get back to Satomi Tiger. Satomi Tiger was the reason why I ended up crying and cutting my hair. She was the one who set me off on a "oh I need to start dating again" mode, and she was the reason why I ended up signing myself up for something as sad and rediculous as Speed Dating.

Yes, that's her. That's the one.

Anyway, after A did his naughty deeds (i.e. fucked her sensless -- I hope he did her up the rear entrance!) and dumped Satomi T. he started to get strange emails and phonecalls (you know the crazy calls you get from "breathers" or "hang-up-as-soon-as-they-pick-up'ers" at 2am?) The calls and emails have now escalated and expanded to it's new target: DWFs!!(yes, that is us...)

We recieved as strange email from an unknown Pop-mail account from a mysterious, "A" asking us if we are seeing him?!? Now A is my friend, but I would not *want* to jump into bed with him -- if I did, I think I would have done it a long time ago. Right? But it's got to a point where we know that the only suspect for these mysterious calls/emails can only be one person: Satomi Tiger. There is only one person who is a suspect in this case -- we don't know too many people who know all three of us, DWFs, and yet is insecure about the "status" of our friendship.

So I decided to play "cat and mouse" with the naughty little "purty tat"... It's all quite simple, actually: I also created a phantom Pop-mail account, and sent her emails pretending to be my friend, Y. And I know that you may think that this is just simply not going to work: for the record, the Psycho Bitch has responded and is now asking me loads of questions about my "relationship" with A. How daft can this woman be??? And to top it all, when I mentioned that A has a girlfriend of nearly 2 years (also a fabrication), the response was that they were going to switch to a new account so that we can continue our "chats".

And she has not written back since.

I'm sorry, but if you are going to turn into a jealous, insecure person, at least do it in style, like I do! I would go for the full hog, do an attempted suicide, take loads of booze and drugs -- even send some in the post to them -- and I will definately NOT hang up the phone when my ex's friends pick it up at 3am. I would talk about the medication that keeps me sane (ok, there is some truth in this one) and that if I didn't take them, there are voices telling me that I saw a baby being born out of a beer bottle, and that my Higher Power has told me to "waste my time making your life miserable..."

The woman is a whimp; but I am in someways glad that she came to her semi-senses.

(I never knew how many people needed medication on a daily basis to function normally. Satomi Tiger and her actions make me feel NORMAL!!!")

Intermission... (Real Post In A Mo' But Bear W/Me For A Mo)

2005-09-07T10:40:00.000+09:00

Why is it that I go about sabbotaging happiness when I have a good hold of it? Do you fuck up as much as I do on "purpose", i.e. knowingly engage in distructive behaviour? Yesterday I got drunk/high while on the job, hid the fact from my B/F who works on the same floor, went to an AA meeting fucked up as hell, and came back only to drink another bottle of wine till 4am in the morning. And now I am jacking off from the office coz I am tired and hung over... but with a glass of Chablis in one hand.

WTF?

Who made this Drunken Wench? Change her! She needs a good telling off to sort her LIFE out, coz she is doing everything she possibly can to distroy her new found "good life". She has someone in her life who appreciates and loves her, she has a good job, she has friends who care, she has everything that anyone can ask for, but yet she is still doing the same shite!!!!!!!

Stop this bitch, someone!! Anyone!!!

Umm... yes. I am a distructive force onto myself. I should be happily in love, happily in sobriety, happily engaged in my work, happily hanging out with my friends, happily all over the place...

But I am not.

Y? Who knows...

Maybe I am not used to being happy.

(What makes you happy?)

Psycho Bitch: Satomi Tiger

2005-09-07T02:10:00.000+09:00

I often find that when things are going relatively well in my life I have a slight writer's block and there is gap in postings on this blog. I must admit that things are relatively smooth in the land of my inner voice, but I do, however, have something to write about: it's to do with one of my friends, A.

I have known A since August 2003 when I first met him in the lift going to the gym of where I used to live. I saw him a few times before I realised that he lived on the floor above me, and that his place was a complete mirror image to mine. Strange, but true. Over the course of the two years that I have known him, we have gone thru many email exchanges, and a few drunken nights bitching about our love lives (or the lack thereof); we are perpetual singletons, and we have always taken scores on who (what?) we date.

Now that I have finished with the brief intro, let's go back to the topic of this post: Psycho Bitch. How many times have you made the mistake of meeting someone at a bar, given them your business card/phone #, only to regret it 1000 times, and over? For me this number is less than the number of digets on my hands, but for A, I would say maybe... hmmm... multiply it by 36: i.e. loads of times.

"A" met Psycho Bitch (let's call her Satomi Tiger) around May/June this year; it was a normal encounter between a man and a woman in a bar on a friday night. Life would have been fine had A *not* given his business card to a mentally unstable woman in her early 30s desparate to find both a husband and a spare "wallet" to pay for her medication, which I imagine she would have to rely upon for the rest of her life.

Ok, I exaggerate, but you get my point, right?

"A" gave his card, got laid, and now he has issues trying to get rid of Satomi Tiger; I wish that I could say that Satomi could withdraw gracefully from A, and now from my life...

But things are just not that simple is it...

Why the fuck is Satomi Tiger involved in my life? Good point. Why is she???

(... to be continued when I am 1) sober, 2) not tired... it's very late/early right now.)

Speed Dating -- The Conclusion

2005-08-22T21:33:00.000+09:00

Shall I begin at the end, and end at the beginning? Or shall I start at the beginning and end at the end... Nah, let's start somewhere in the middle, coz it makes the most sense that way.

As some of you already know I had a place at a Speed Dating event last Saturday. The event was supposed to start at 6pm and last to 8:30pm; I, together with 14 other women, was supposed to meet 15 men who I could chat to for 5 mins each. After each "date" we would fill in a score card, which the event organisers would collect, and if there was a match -- voila! We have a chance at romance. Sounds simple enough, right?

Not quite.

About three weeks ago I was invited out to lunch by one of my colleagues who I have been bouldering with, together with other work associates, on Wednesday nights after work. After the second time that we had lunch together, by which time he knew about my upcoming Speed Date, he asked me out to dinner and drinks. Tame enough, I know him, not threatening, and a chance of good companionship and a good conversation over dinner. Totally harmless, right? So I accepted.

Dinner took place on Friday night; I chose the restaurant, an Italian place not far from our office, because I know the owner well. We had a wonderful dinner, followed by drinks (non-alcoholic for me) in a small bar where we were given a small corner table away from all the other customers. Very cozy corner indeed. As the night grew into the early morning we decided to call it an evening: he took me to the nearest taxi queue and we said goodbye to each other... is what I would really love to write but here's what really happened: I went over to give him a hug to say thank you for the evening, but instead I ended up being held in his arms, lost in the moment, suspended in motion like the dense particles in a Barium meal. I do not know how long I was there in his arms, but as we slowly broke off I turned my head to kiss his cheek... but that was not happening. It just felt more natural as I watched his lips for a breath or two, and we ended up kissing quite passionately for a while. Then the spell was broken, and it was time for me to get into my cab.

I went home that night feeling confused, flustered, and excited.

Saturday, the day of the Speed Date, was a hectic day: Yoga at 8:00am, hair appointment at 11:00 am, followed by lunch, and getting ready for the evening's "pièce de résistance" -- Speed Dating. (Oh, and after that I was going to meet the girls to give them a ho-down of all the nitty gritty details about this fascinating event.)

By quarter to Five I was fully made up, and ready to go, but I knew I had at least 30mins to spare, so I decided to take a small nap considering that I had slept only 3 hours the night before. I set my alarm, put some music on, rested my head on my cushions, and laid down on my comfy sofa...

I never made it to the Speed Dating event, for I slept right through my alarm, my music, my friends calling me... I was off in a dreamy world where there was no need for me to rush thru and psychoanalise 15 men in 75 minutes to see if they were worthy of a second encounter. I did not have to tick off a score card to rate the men that I just interviewed for a position as my boyfriend/lover. None of that shite. Nope. I just slept right thru everything.

In the end I called up all my girlfriends and told them that I slept thru the Speed Date: their conclusion was that there was a good reason WHY I slept thru i.e. I would have been disappointed by the scum and creeps that showed up, so I ended up having a girls's night out at a small bistro. In retrospect, I am more inclined to believe that I fell asleep that Saturday because there really was no need for me to go on a Speed Date. I had already met a nice candidate more than two months ago; it's just taken me *this long* to realise that he was always there to hold me, and to make me feel special. Fuck the Speed Date! I'll just stick to people that really care about me, and see beyond my appearances to share my life with.

So there.

Losing Control

2005-08-18T16:39:00.000+09:00

One of the reasons that I have chosen solitude over pursuing a relationship in the past was my inherent fear of losing control of my emotions. It's all too easy to sit in front of the phone, or the PC waiting for that call/email to enter your life; but then there is a split moment when you realise that you shouldn't spend 20mins in front of inanimate objects that may, or may not, deliver messages from people who are on your mind for a large portion of your day. I perceive it as I wasted and lost 20mins of my precious life, and I have nothing to show for it apart from the feeling of shame and foolishness for acting the same way I did as a 14 year old.

So who's email am I waiting for? I'm not entirely sure yet....

The difficulty in letting someone into your life when you are a depressed bulimic with an alcohol problem is that the other party inevitably finds it hard to handle your mood swings, your relapses, your sudden need for total solitude, and, of course, your lifestyle/habits when it comes to food. What does one say on their first date when they have been invited to an expensive restaurant that serves a set course? Or how does one explain the "pill case" that contains 3 or 4 different types of medication that you have to take after every meal? What if you start to see each other more seriously? How do you hide the fact that you are not getting any better, nor do you have the capacity to recover? It's easy for a diabetic to explain their medical condition to their partners, but for some reason there is still a stigma attached to those of us who have a "psychological condition" that is caused by/causes a chemical imbalance in the brain. My condition, just as with diabetes, manifested as a result of both environmental and genetic factors, but why is it that I still live in fear of being exposed?

It's the nature of my condition: it's the nature of me.

Have you ever experienced the feeling of anxiety when you tell a lie to your loved ones, knowing that they may find out one day that you were not entirely honest? Have you ever felt the fear of losing yourself, your identity, as you uncontrollably surrender your entire ethos over to a person that you so dearly love and care about? Have you ever been consumed by your own feeling of inadequacy, the sensation of being a dark cloud, a burden to someone you care that you forcefully withdraw yourself for the sake of protecting the person you care so much?

I was once told by someone that I was intimate with a long time ago, that being with me was like tip-toeing around broken glass; extra care had to be taken not to stand on the glass lest there be more damage done, and also to stop oneself from being cut by one of the sharp, dispersed fragments.

Today, years have past, I am still a piece of a broken glass, I still make people who are close to me tip-toe around me, and I am still waiting for that phone call/email from a stranger who may, or may not enter my life. I already miss and long for that which I do not have -- or will never have. And inevitably, to avoid pain from disappointment, abandonment, and a broken heart I become a recluse who communicates only with their inner voice...

Slowly but surely, I am losing control. I am losing control of both my mind, and my heart. And this time, not even my sobriety is going to get me out of my own madness.

Antacid

2005-08-16T16:59:00.000+09:00

The planet let out a burp today not too far from where I live. The belch originated from near the surface of the earth's crust, somewhere in the pacific ocean about 300km from my office. I know that 300km does not sound near at all, but in terms of the earth's linear distance? It's about as close to me as the next cubicle.

*Burp*

Recently, we've been experiencing a large number of earthquakes in the Kanto region of Eastern Japan. There was one about 2 weeks ago: things fell from shelves; the airports were closed for nearly 4 hours; and the residents of Tokyo were left thinking:"When's the next Big One?", for the Kanto plains have experienced large, devastating earthquakes that come in a 70year cycle for centuries. The last one was in 1923, which means that we are now 12 years overdue.

Our building was shaking for a good 5 mins, and the creeking sound went on for another 10. Most people stood by their desks wondering if it was going to get worse, or better, and I suppose out of fear all looked at each other for some form of moral support.

Me? I headed for the door which has a lock that operates on an electromagnet; if we lose power during the quake, we would all be stuck in the engine room of this building for a very long time, and I was not prepared to drink stale Evian that I use to water my plants, or eat my stash of dusty gummy-bears given to me by a colleague long before they realised that I do not like to eat sweets. I was going to open the door, and keep it that way till the tremour subsided.

"DWR. Why are you at the door?" was the response of the CIO's PA when she saw me standing at the door.

"Escape route."

"Oh, you are soooooo calm!"

Little does she know that I too was trembling inside, for I did not want to die in a building with strangers away from my family and cats. I wanted to live. I still do...

**************************************************

A cherished alcoholic friend of mine once told me that whenever he drank bad liquor, he would get wind. The solution that he had for his embarassing condition was to take chewable Antacid. After today's little scare, all I can say is that I hope the planet has enuf stash of Antacid to last another 70+ years (i.e. long after I am dead and gone) without beltching on my turf.

*Burrrrrp*

Things You Notice When You Are Sober

2005-08-16T11:54:00.000+09:00

I know that I am only into Day 3 of being sober after my relapse, but already I am beginning to notice things from before, during, and after my relapse. First of all, I am behaving in a strange manner. What do I mean by strange behaviour? Well, let me explain.

I'm a creature of extremes: I'm an introvert, and an extrovert; one moment I am stuck in a semi-routine where I don't even have to look at my diary to tell you what I will be doing 3 weeks from now at 10am, and the next moment, I whimsically call up a friend to ask if they are available for lunch at 11:45am. Its the same with my writing: there are moments when I walk around town with my digital camera taking photos, looking externally for things that I can write about, and there are moments like this when I just blabber on about what is going on internally with my life. Being in a constant state of imbalance has become a normal part of my life -- it's all, or nothing. Switch on, Switch off.

But things have been slightly different for the past few days. First I can only guess what I will be doing next week on tuesday at 7:30pm; I will have to look at my outlook meetings just to check, for I am not really sure if I will be seeing my counselor, going bouldering, doing Yoga, starting my Salsa class, going to a jazz concert, taking up pottery classes, or meeting friends for dinner. I may not even HAVE anything planned that day -- I'm just not sure. I need to check. My whims are also not as extreme these days: I actually emailed my friend to make lunch arrangements for thursday - YESTERDAY!! I am planning my whims ahead on a monday afternoon. And I can't remember if I have my digital camera with me today... what is going on?

Oh, and I have something "external" to talk about today. Here it is:

VJ Day, and The Fascist Shrine.

Yesterday, August 15th, was not only my DWF, Y's Birthday, but also was the day that Japan surrendered unconditionally ending what is known as WWII in our history books. War criminals were rounded up, classified according to the level of their crimes against humanity, tried, convicted/acquitted according to "International Law" (the trial was overseen by the victors of the war, as with any other war related justice and post war reparation.) and that should have put at least an end to all the horrible pain that the people of Asia and Japan suffered for decades so that we could all move on and try to forgive each other for what had happened.

But not quite. Some bright soul decided to enshrine all the "War Dead", including those that were executed as Class A war criminals, in a very controversial shrine -- Yasukuni Shrine -- which makes not a martyr out of the war dead, but revered spiritual entities that are looked upon in the same light as God, or Jesus is in any Christian society. In short, the instigators of the murdering of 19million Chinese, 2million Malaysians, millions of Koreans, and hundreds of thousands of Allied troops are resting in peace, getting manicures, pedicures, facials, AND are worshipped in a beautiful, leafy, green area in central Tokyo alongside those who died during the bombings of Tokyo, the allied landings in Okinawa, and the atom bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

If I died as a civilian as the American troops landed in Okinawa, I would not want to lie next to the men who were the reason why the troops came to invade and torch my home.

Yesterday marked 60 years after the war ended, and we still have right-wing extremist groups operating under the cover of NPOs, and "oppressed minority groups". They congregated outside Yasukuni Shrine (as usual) surrounded by armoured police vehicles, should there be clashes between the imperialists and the general apathetic populous of Japan. Why do I think there is apathy amongst my people? Simple. My colleague and I walked past the shrine yesterday and the topic of Class A war criminals came up. The term Class A War Criminal in Japanese is phonetically the same as Eternal War Criminal. My friend, a gentle person, could not understand why the West had tried and convicted men of war crimes till Eternity.

"Sounds like Dante's Divine Comedy to me -- I mean, banishing someone to eternity for crimes against humanity? I can understand why the families of these men want to let go of the past, I mean it's been 60 years."

"Umm... wrong interpretation -- the word is not Eternal War Criminal, but Class A War Criminal. It means that what they did was pretty nasty compared to a Class C War Criminal."

What *DO* they teach in Japan about modern history! And this dude has a post-grad in international relations! Oh woe is me, for we are doomed. Doomed. Doomed. Doomed....

(Post Script: Yasukuni Shrine still enjoys nearly 1500 hacking attempts per hour every day -- mostly by Chinese hackers, apparently. I don't know who takes the stats and releases it, but it does nothing to boost our relations with our neighbours that we have occupied/annexed between 1905 and 1945. It also does not help that history, however dark and unpleasant it may be is not conveyed to the younger generations who have known only peace during their lifetime. I am one of those fortunate people who have lived in peaceful times; I see war, famine, hate crimes, and all the ugliness that we are capable of doing, but only through a safe distance from the TV screen, or the morning newspaper delivered to my letter box. And for any Japanese person reading this post, Eikyu Sennpan is not a War Criminal banished to Purgatory for Eternity, or something, but a Class A War Criminal, a name given to those have committed the highest, and nastiest crime against the human race.)

Relapse...

2005-08-15T13:03:00.000+09:00

It happened on Day 20 of my "sobriety". I was still in the process of moving houses; I had my sofa, my coffee table, my comfy bed, my fridge, my kitchen utensils... basically all items that you find in a normal home with a "permanent" resident.

Except the TV, the Stereo, and the cats.

Yes, I had to spend 2 whole nerve-wrecking days in my house, alone, with no sound but my inner voice telling me that if I didn't *do* something about this situation, I am going to walk straight over to the nearest convenience store to buy some hooch and order 3 large pepperoni pizzas with extra cheese. They tell you in self-help groups to call someone -- ANYONE -- when I have these cravings, and indeed I *did* call someone... the really slow dude who took my order at Domino's Pizza.

"Umm... did you say you wanted 3 large pizzas, umm... we have a special, I think, ummm, like, ummm, if you order 1 large pizza you get one free, do you want to take that, and order 2 so you get four pizzas, or do you want to order separately, and not, ummm, like go for the special. Umm, we also have a special if you order 2 medium pizzas, you get one drink for free, umm, we have, ummm, coke, diet coke, umm, sprite, and fanta... ummm..."

"UMMM... why don't you just calculate the cheapest way that I can, UMMM, purchase 3 large pizzas? I don't need a salad, and I don't need any more soft drinks, OK?"

"Umm.. hang on..."

(Fuck, what's this dude been smoking/drinking/snorting? He sounds more fucked up than I am right now! And I'M SOBER!")

"Ok, how about calculating the price of two large pizzas and delivering me three. Remember? Buy one, get one free?"

"Oh, sure, that'll work. Umm... That will be...."

(Imbecile!)

I knew that it was going to take at least 29mins before my pizza arrived so I dashed over to the nearest Seven Eleven and stood for a moment in front of the Pearly Gates of Alcoholic Heaven: The Booze Wall.

Ahhh....

Starting from the left hand side of the refrigeration unit was the "Less than 7% Alcohol in Volume" drinks which I don't really pay much attention to coz I always found it an inefficient way of getting drunk. Start on 14% plus, and work your way upwards; hard, fast, and no messing about (shit, sounds almost like my approach to dating in Tokyo!). But something guided my eyes towards the lower end of the booze spectrum, and my attention was fixed on a bottle of sweet apple cidre that contained 4% alcohol in volume.

Yup. That's what I will have coz I'm not really relapsing, right? Sure, there's some alcohol in it, but I bet I breathe in more ethanol vapour when I take the Chunder Trains late at night where nearly 80% of those sharing the carriage have been drinking heavily. If I stick to this all night, I will be fine, I won't get drunk, just one or two drinks while I polish the pizzas...

And that's what happened on saturday night. I sat there and drank nearly 10 bottles of this "light-weight" stuff that kept me awake till 4am. By 1am boredom once again took over so I decided to do a bit of DIY and put together my new bed frame, table, shelves, AV counter, and funky lighting. I'm not sure how the neighbours would have taken the power drill going off at unholy hours on a weekend, but I really didn't give a shit, coz I live in a semi-detached house. I have only one neighbour, and she is going to be moving out by the end of this month; plus she looked as is she needed a bit of "drilling" and some "power tool action" herself (not that I'm getting much action either, but at least I have a sleek Black & Decker), but really, nothing was going to take away my moment of happiness that I got thru my "light booze" and my house in semi-order.

Well, actually, there was one thing that took away all of that: the hangover the following day.
(I can't believe that 4% alcohol in volume can induce a fucking HANGOVER! What's going on?! I'm a bloody lightweight!!)

And now... today, I am into Day 2 of my re-attempt at sobriety.

Sugar And Spice And All Things Nice

2005-08-11T15:26:00.000+09:00

Ok, I fess up. I have been sober now for 18days (I think...). This is my umpteenth attempt at giving up alcohol -- the last time I gave up I did a reasonably good job and stayed sober for 6 months during which time I took up trekking, trail running, Yoga, and bouldering.... This all happened months before I started this blog.

Then one day I reset my life back to the very familiar Drunken Wench, and I cannot remember too many sober days ever since. Which is fine to a certain point, or at least it is fine by me coz I still have many sober moments -- especially when I am writing -- and the rest of the time I am enjoying the odd drink/bottle or two with my friends, and my inner voice.

Anyway, back to sugar and spice and all things nice, which is the title of this post.

Sobriety (I had to look this one up in the dictionary coz it's THAT unfamiliar a word to me) has its pros and cons. For starters off I no longer wake up/regain consciousness in the middle of the night hugging an empty Pizza Hut box not knowing 1) where it came from 2) who paid for it 3) who ate it. I do not call cabs in the middle of the night to take me to the 24hr Korean BBQ restaurant where I would consume anything from 4000 to 5000Kcal of meat, noodles, rice, desert, etc. along with another bottle of distilled liquor. I would of course puke it all up once I felt full, and then order some more (I know, it's so decadent and "Imperial Roman" to behave this way, but I just can't seem to stop it) I once even had one of the waiters wake me up at 5:30am because I had passed out at the table and it was nearly the end of his shift. (Funny, I know! I can laugh in retrospect -- oh, hang on, I was laughing at the time too.)

The other side of the coin of being sober is that I am constantly craving for sugary foods; food that my brain 15 years ago created a lovely synaptic shortcut to the "fight, freight, and flight" department of my midbrain. In short, sugar equals DANGER, KEEP THE FUCK AWAY in my mind. There is no way in hell that I am going to pick up those sweets that have been collecting dust, or going stale, in my office desk just so that I can get a sugar-rush to substitute the calming feeling of that "first drink" after a stressful day at the office. No fucking way.

The other thing I have an issue with is trying to explain to people who are very familiar with my impressive drinking habits that I am ordering "Perrier" or "Cranberry Juice" when I am out.

"Umm...Did you knock your head, DWR? You mean Diet Coke with Rum, Vodka, Whiskey, and a twist of lime, right?"

"No, I want a Perrier."

"Riiiiiggghhht." (whispers amongst themselves) Is she OK? Maybe it's that thing with Nick still affecting her. Better let her be for now. She'll soon get over him. She'll be back on the MoJo's.

No. I am going to be a Drunken Wench without any ethanol in my bloodstream. How about that for a change? Yup, I am going to spice up my life with soft drinks from now on.

(Gawd that sounds so booooorrrrrriiiiiinnnng. How am I to cope!)

Am I going to miss all the fun things in life coz I don't drink? Am I going to find new, and interesting things that would radically change my life? Maybe, maybe not. But for now, I will just settle for a substitue for my sugar craving, something non-alcoholic to spice up my drinking cabinet, and anything -- just even one thing -- that is nice.

(Post script: Please note, unless you have a high tolerance for alcohol I would not recommend downing a pitcher of MoJo in one session by yourself. It is sooooo delicious and easy to drink that you can just pack a pint, or two, in less than an hour. The results? You start to hallucinate; it feels like you have just drunk 3 bottles of Robitussin together with 1/2 bottle of scotch. "Money Back Guaranteed!". I know. I've been down those tracks before... Great recipe tho'.)

Waste of Time (Part 2)

2005-08-10T10:05:00.000+09:00

My new Counselor, Ana, asked me in my first session: "So, how would you like our sessions to be structured? And what do you aim to get out of these counseling sessions?"

"I want to understand the root of my depression so that I can be happy..." (why is she asking me silly questions?)

I explained to her that with Dana I would sit and talk thru a specific topic and she would listen to me as she noted some of the things that I said. She would often ask me why I felt a specific emotion, or why I reacted to a certain situation, and she would always help me to help myself. That was how things were with Dana, and that was how I wanted my sessions with Ana to be. After my third session with Ana I noticed something different. She was *telling* me how to help myself, not encourage me to find the answers thru my own thought processes, or to work thru my own feelings at my own pace.

"You react to stressful situations because you cannot separate the emotion and the rationale. You are driven by your emotions. I can help you with this, there is a wonderful tool, and it works. It's basically taking an inventory of all the situations and things people say that upset you, and write down the emotion associated with it, followed by how you should rationalise these feelings so that you do not react."

Hang on. I've heard this tune before... it's one of those "Shrink Tools". She might as well give me a meditation tape to help me sleep, or a self hypnosis video to stop me from "binge'n'purge". But I made so much progress with Dana; I am determined to continue with my treatment, even tho' it sounds like a load of crap. I have to give it a try, at least. Otherwise I will spend the next 15 years on anti-depressants, laxatives, sleeping pills, and the works. I will be lonely again in my shell -- protected from the outside world, but with no doors to let anyone into my life.

Yesterday I started on my little assignment that Ana gave me. In one column I wrote down situations/things people say that piss me off, or upset me, in another I would write down the emotion I felt, and finally the column for how to "rationalise" this feeling. I started off writing in the first two columns, but when I came to the final one, my mind went blank. I could not find a way to rationalise how I felt or reacted. I was stuck.

Instead of spending hours and hours trying to rationalise my first emotion, I just continued to write down the external factor (stuff that piss me off), followed by my internal factors (how I react to a negative factor). This exercise continued for nearly 6 pages, by which time I was in floods of tears. Why? All I am doing is writing down all the shite that piss me off, all the unhappy memories, all the pain from the past with absolutely no answers to them. This exercise is nothing more than opening old wounds that have started to heal; there is no puss in these wounds, there are no lost shrapnel, or splinters here that need to be removed. They just need to be left alone. And the tears? The tears are from the painful memories that are attached to my deepest emotions. Why do I have to relive these painful memories? Why do I have to go thru all of the pain again? I feel like a rape victim who is explaining in detail how she was assaulted in front of strangers in her court case. And to make me feel even more shite is the fact that I cannot fill in the last column.

The rationalisation.

All I see is 6 pages worth of pain. Six pages worth of anger and despair that I feel towards myself for not being equipped to complete a simple task like separating my emotion from my mind. I have always been a fairly rational person; I'm very cool headed and detached in stressful situations. I can usually control my emotions to deliver my message across to people in a non-confrontational manner, but yet, I have a woman telling me that I am ill equipped in this area, and the proof that she may be right is sitting right in front of me.

Six pages worth of a blank column that I cannot fill... six pages of tear stained, emptiness that has eaten away at my heart for nearly half my life. Maybe that's why I am driven to be a drunken wench, who just rambles on about everything, and nothing, for this is the only tool that I have to be able to cope with the world that surrounds me.

(to be continued...)

Nah, you know what? Fuck that, I need a drink.

Waste of Time (Part 1)

2005-08-09T13:55:00.000+09:00

For many years I have resisted going to counseling to treat my chronic depression and my eating disorder. I was first told to go to counseling at 17 when I had already developed Bulimia Nervosa, an eating disorder, which I have been living with now for 15 years. (Shit, that is half my life!) I just saw no point to it; I was diagnosed with "mild" melancholy, and they never even detected that I had behavioural problems with my eating habits. How can someone who "under-diagnosed" me send me off for the "right treatment"? How can my problems be solved by a complete stranger who knows fuck all about me, when *I* -- who knows me the best, and most -- can't change anything? All the shrink tools, meditation exercises, and big hugs in the world were not going to make the pain go away. "Just give me the pills so that I can function, get my grades, and get the fuck out of this miserable situation that I am in." was all that I would say in my sessions with my first shrink.

The second time I went into counseling was when I was at University; my doctor refused to give me my Prozac unless I went to see a counselor. If anyone who is thinking of being a psychiatric nurse, or a clinical psychologist, or going into a profession dealing with people who have some form of neurosis is reading this, well, this is one of the worst things you can do to one of your patients -- make threats to remove their happy pills, coz they are NOT going to cooperate. I used to go to my counseling sessions, sit down, ask what time it was, and sat there in silence for the entire session. I knew that what was "discussed" between me and my counselor stayed between us, unless they thought I was a threat to myself so I took full advantage of the "patient confidentiality" thing. I got the happy pills, in exchange of wasting 1hr of my time sitting opposite a complete stranger who just sat there and waited for me to "open up" to him.

I've had a few other shrinks that I have been seeing, some of whom recommended taking personality tests, ink blot tests, changed my medication, combined "alternative" therapy, etc. Whichever way, none of this was working.

Until I met Dana.

Dana has been my counselor for over a year now. I actually feel that I have made a lot of progress in her sessions; I don't know why I decided that I wanted to continue going to see her, but in Dana I felt that maybe I can get over all of my issues because she was the first one to make me feel like I could help myself. Not have someone else solve my issues. Unfortunately, Dana has now stopped seeing any patients, because she is on maternal leave. She adopted a little baby who needs full time attention.

Which left me back to where I started.

Luckily my doctor understands that I need all the happy pills to helps me to get thru the day and continues to write the prescriptions without any threats, and Dana has introduced me to a new, English speaking counselor. My new counselor is also a woman, but for some reason, she reminds me of why I resisted counseling all those years ago...

(to be continued)

What Next?!

2005-08-05T10:57:00.000+09:00

(I am doomed. Fucking doomed....)

D-Day Minus 3: For some strange reason I have a HUGE headache today so I went down to the "First Aid" room and slept for 2hrs while it subsided. I love working for this company! There's an infirmary where I can take a nap during the day if I am feeling sick. UUUUGGGGHHH. I *do* wish this headache, and tired feeling goes away soon coz I can't take pain killers unless it's an opioid. NSAIDs trigger my asthma; and why the FUCK can't I get codeine in this country...

D-Day Minus 2: I noticed a nasty, rash on my back tonight, which I didn't think much of considering that I am allergic to a lot of food. The buggers are itchy and slightly painful. It's probably that Caesar salad at TGIFs that I ate -- it must have been laced with some funky chemical that has caused this ugly skin condition. I took my usual dose of antihistamines and steroid cream, and I am now snug in bed feeling a bit bummed off that I have yet ANOTHER rash. Fuck, when was the last time I had one of these? 3, 4 months ago? Oh yeah, it was just before I went off to the US for a month. Why on earth does humanity put industrial chemicals in my food to make it "look" and "taste" like Caesar salad sauce? Try making it with NATURAL ingredients, not something that comes out of a conical flask!

D-Day Minus 1: Oh shit! There are BLISTERS on the rash today, AND they have spread from my back to my breasts!!! FUCK!!! How can it get worse!! And the burning sensation -- FUCK -- my back feels like I have just sat in the Sahara sunbathing in my string bikini! This is not Kosher, I need to see a dermatologist tomorrow morning, because I could have leprosy or something, and will have to be in quarantine for months!!! What will I do if they put me away with other people with weeping, pussy welts covering their bodies. No one will hug me anymore, no one will touch me anymore, no one will even come close to me...

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

D Day: I ran to the nearest large hospital which just so happens to be only 4 mins walk from my house. I handed my medical insurance card and asked to see a dermatologist. The receptionist made me sit outside Room 2 which was located in a relatively dark corner near the lifts that lead to the inpatient wards. (Maybe they have a special ward for lepers like me!). I was the third person to be called up by the doctor who listened carefully to my symptoms and asked me to show him my nasty rash.

"Herpes."

"'Scuse me? Like, as in VD?" (I know it sounds silly to have a sexually transmitted disease on one's back, but that was all that came to my mind at the time.)

"No, No. Herpes Zoster. Did you have chicken pox as a child? It's the same virus. You have Shingles."

"What? Like what old people get?"

"Well, yes, it is more common in the elderly population, but young people can get them too. But, oooooh, yours is pretty bad. How long have you left it in this condition?"

"Two days."

"Hmmm... I would usually recommend a topical treatment, but this time I think I will prescribe some anti-viral medication. It will take about 2 months to heal; I will give you 7 days of medication, so please come back next week."

"What causes it?"

"Oh, the causes are unknown, some say it's stress, others say that you are genetically prone to redevelop chicken pox, some even say that it's just bad luck."

"Riiiiiggght."

The doctor put some cream on my back and asked how I felt. I was in too much pain to tell him that of course I was feeling like shit with funky blisters across my back and my breasts, but I decided not to considering that he was kind enough to explain my condition carefully, and professionally. It's summer time, it's bikini season, it's time to expose my skin and get a nice suntan... but no. This year there will be no pretty bras, no massages, no beach parties, no intensive yoga, it will be just me waiting for the autumn so that I don't feel out of place wearing long sleeves and thick clothing that covers my erect nipples.

Speed Dating

2005-08-02T16:25:00.000+09:00

So how did I go from the end of a nearly 7 month, long distance relationship to Speed Dating? Well, here's the story.

I am an avid hiker/trekker, and when I came back to Japan in April 2004, after living in Hong Kong for nearly a year, I wanted to join a hiking group so that I could make new friends and enjoy the mountains of Japan. I looked online for various groups, and ended up signing up to an English speaking hiking group that went trekking about once a month. I was really excited about going on an "international hike" for the first time in my own country, but unfortunately it pissed down with rain that day. Needless to say, the expedition was cancelled.

Ever since the day I signed up for the "international hike" I have been receiving a newsletter on "Events and Parties in and Around Tokyo" (which includes a hiking expedition at times. The title of the newsletter says it all: it's one of those "sad, singleton oriented" spam that has lists of events such as: "TGWR30s" (Thank God We Are 30s -- meet men and women (single/divorced) who are in their 30s!), or "International Friendship Party" (Tired of crowded bars? Tired of bad chat-up lines? Well, this is a casual get together of.....) , or "Tokyo Executives Wind-Down Sunday BBQ".... Do I need to continue?

I must admit I usually glance through the newsletter to see what kind of "Parties" are being organised in this city, when I noticed something new: "Speed Dating", a 5 minute date with 10 to 15 men on a saturday evening in a bar/club. There is a no-nonsense, non-threatening aspect about speed dating; if the date is not going well, and you don't particularly want to see him ever again, well, he has gone to his next date after 5 minutes, and "lo and behold" you have a new date for the next 5 minutes. And if that does not work out, well, you get your next dude in 5 mins. In all honesty, considering the calibre of available men in this city (you'd be surprised!) my expectation is that I am going to walk out of a Speed Date saying. "Yup. And that was that. So what can I do next for a laugh!"

So -- literally -- for a joke I applied for the Speed Dating thing, thinking that a) I probably won't get a place in the highly competitive event for all the sad and lonely singletons out there b) even if I did, it is going to be a laugh coz most of the participants are going to be geeks, misfits, closet homosexuals trying to convince themselves that they "can" be cured, or organic life forms that are a few, um, actually several steps below "homo sapiens" on the evolution ladder for there is no screening process to join c) it's a time-filler for me while the DWFs guzzle local booze in downtown Taipei coz they are out there for business... indefinitely d) it's boring being at home by yourself on a saturday night.

Two days ago I got a message in my inbox that told me that I had secured a place at the Speed Dating event on the 20th.

Great... GRFuckingEAT... (I really was hoping that I would not be accepted into this very exclusive club of sad, lonely singletons!) AND to just add icing to cake, or maybe salt to injury, the organisers had the audacity to say in the last line of the confirmation email: "By the way, is DWR a male, or a female name?"

These FECKERs don't even know if I am a man or a woman, and they are trying to match me up with a date!! I am a little bit worried now: I may end up finding a cabbage leaf sitting opposite me for 5 minutes during this Speed Date event, in which case I am going to have to snag its "1 free drink ticket". It won't notice, I'm sure!

Jeez, what have I done...

(post script: some of you may be wondering why I can just spring out from a 7 month relationship and enter the dating "ring" so soon. Well, to be honest, I am doing it to fill my time with activities so that I don't end up crying on the train again. My expectation, just as I said, is pretty low, and the most likely "ending" to the speed date story is that I bump into one of the closet homosexuals who dated one of my gay friends. Yes, it really is a small world....)

Moving, Living, Moving On

2005-08-01T14:40:00.000+09:00

In the end it took the 3 movers only 2.5 hours to move 60 items/boxes into my new house. It was very impressive considering that the municipality had contracted a bunch of cowboys (probably with a second job as traffic wardens during the weekday) to dig up the road in front of my house. By 1pm I was unpacking boxes after boxes of my clothes and hanging them up with only one intention: I am going to have some structure and order in my wardrobe... this time. (I think I said that the last time I moved homes.) My mind is set: I am going to live in this house for at least 2 years, maybe 3 or 4 even. I am going to do up my area of the communal garden, put out deck chairs on the wooden patio, and place potted flowers in the window boxes outside the upstairs bedrooms.

I'm going to "live" here. Just me, and my cats, Belle and George. Just me. And I'm going to live.

Since I ended my relationship with Nick last week I have been walking in a daze half of the time, thinking of all the "what if"s between us. I've tried to fill my time with Yoga, rock climbing, dinner with friends, and anything that I can think of at the time. I even went and got my hair cut into a short bob, which everyone seems to notice, and like, today at the office. "DWR? What is it? You look different... Ah, you cut your hair!"

Yes, I did. And I am going to make a fresh start, while I hold onto the good memories that I have with Nick, for they are treasures that are part of my life.

So, now that this chapter in my life titled "Nick" is over, what am I going to do next that is radical and crazy and unusual and uncharacteristic and fun and positive and incredibly silly and unbelievably sad and pathetic?

Speed Dating.

(more about speed dating tomorrow...)

Leaving The Nest

2005-07-31T06:53:00.000+09:00

Today I am moving into my new house -- yes I am no longer going to have to put up with the Wench Mum's inedible food, her crazy outbursts, and her whining at me about my "strange" behaviour patterns. I'm not quite sure what she means by strange considering that she talks to the TV, lies in bed shaking her arms and legs in the air, and continuously has a monologue about germs and house dust when she vacuums the house only once a week (and that's a good week).

Oh, I digress. Yes, I am moving into my now 2 bedroom house in a green suburb only 30mins commute from my office. I had my plans all set from about 5wks ago when I started to look for houses to rent; when I came across my house, I just instantly fell in love with the high ceilings, and the amount of natural light coming into all the rooms, the wooden deck where one can hold a BBQ, and most of all the large tree in the communal courtyard. Oh, and the walk-in-wardrobe.

I love the place! And my movers are coming to bring my furniture this morning at 9:30am... only that there are some local government FECKERS digging up the road on a sunday morning JUST OUTSIDE MY HOUSE!!! WTF!!!! Where else on earth has anyone heard of workmen -- on a shitty government contract -- doing road maintenance in a residential area on a SUNDAY FUCKIN' MORNING!

Now, my movers are going to have to park their van round the corner and carry my furniture nearly 100m, walk up past the car park, and into my home like little leaf-cutter ants carrying large bits of foliage to decorate their nest...

If there is any damage to my furniture, I will be well pissed off!!

Why are they digging my road on a sunday?

Friends

2005-07-28T16:21:00.000+09:00

I have wonderful friends. Drunken Wench Friends. They look after me when I am feeling blue, just as I look after them when they are feeling like shit. We laugh together, we cry together, and we get drunk together. We hang out in each others homes, we go for a drive with no specific destination, and most of all we accept each others shortcomings...

My DWFs, Y and A, are no longer in Tokyo, for they are on a project in a different country. But I am not alone, because I have the most wonderful friends that I can have that look out for me even when they are far away: DWFs. And I want to dedicate the lyrics to this song -- have a safe journey, both of you.

DWR.

"You've Got A Friend
(Carole King)

When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name,
and you know whereever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
You've got a friend.

If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
all you got to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you.
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.

You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don't you know that,
Winter spring summer or fall,
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
You've got a friend."

P.S. By the way, Y and A, can I go to see you guyz on 20,000 airmiles??? Is that enough??

Crying...

2005-07-26T16:55:00.000+09:00

I cried twice today, once on the outside, and once on the inside.

First I cried on the outside on my train journey, tears streaming down my face, to my shrink's office to pick up my medication. My DWF, A, recently started to date a woman whom he introduced at a classic DWF dinner. While A left the table to go to the gents, the woman that he brought to meet us started to invite Y and me to "international dating" and "speed dating" parties, for not moments ago Y and I were talking about how difficult it is to meet single men, but despite this, we were quite happy hanging out as DWFs, meeting at least once a week in a pubs/restaurants getting drunk and bitching about our work. These "international/speed dating" events are frequented by Caucasian men who live in Japan, so Y and I started to suspect something strange about her. Why would a woman dating an Asian man invite us to join her in one of these singleton parties?

Y and I confided with A and told him to be careful, because she may be using him to introduce her to a white guy...

It turned out that the only reason why this woman suggested that we go to these dating parties was because she felt "sorry" for us, because we couldn't even get a date. To her we were two women in their 30s with a career, but without that which all strive to achieve in life.

Happiness.

And to her, happiness is to have a line of men waiting to date you, or to be married to a successful man, and have children, neither of which we have. How could we? We work, we get together as DWFs, we go to the gym, we take "classes", we call each other up, we go shopping, but the thing is that we have fun with what resources we have available to us. How can we plan weddings, or romantic holidays, or dates, or anything when we don't have anyone to do these things with? That's why we make the most of what we have -- each other. There should be nothing wrong with that, but it made me both sad and angry to think that a stranger saw us as "dysfunctional" simply because we don't have dates...

Why do people judge us for who we are? Do they think that we chose to be dateless? We are only trying to find our small pocket of happiness with what we have now. That's all...

Second I cried on the inside as I wrote an email to Nick to tell him that I think we should go our separate ways. Long distance relationships are hard to maintain, and with no concrete plans for even the near future, it is difficult to maintain the closeness that we once shared. He has his finals and also started his business, which makes it even more painful for me to have to end things with him during this difficult time. But it had to be done -- sooner, rather than later.

As I pressed the send button on the email, my colleague walked past my cubicle. We joked around, laughed at my drinking habits, told me that I am a good sport because I can take jokes from the boys. I was smiling, laughing even, but really I was crying on the inside. Just like a court jester, I mask my face and make people laugh, I hide my true feelings, my sadness. But one thing a jester cannot hide -- or should I say I leave for us to see -- is the small teardrop on his left cheek, a symbol of his inner, true sadness.

You Win Some, But You Lose A Little Bit More

2005-07-25T21:54:00.000+09:00

Five men and five women gathered together in a fashionable eatery in central tokyo on a sunday night. They had a private room to themselves with Zen interior and a perfect view of the city at dusk. They gathered together on a mass "blind date" as someone put it; all were in their late 20s or early 30s living in a city of 12+million people... but still single.

Yes, that really was the setting for sunday's mass blind date that Sunshine and I organised. First we toasted to the meeting/date, introduced ourselves around the table, the food kept on being served, the pitchers of beer were disappearing faster than eligible bachelors, and all seemed to be going well until I noticed something. Ten people. Ten.
Five men, Five women.

If you take the average population, what percentage of that population would you say are attractive, or relatively attractive? Think of the bell curve? Think 6 sigma... Out of the five girls, there was only one girl who just stood out because not only is she fun, nice, energetic, and all the things that someone with a "good personality" has, but also she is very pretty.

She is my brother's ex girlfriend.

It didn't take too long for the large group to sort of split between the ones who were sitting the furthest away from the pretty one, and hence gave up even asking for her phone number, vs. those who were close enough that as soon as someone stood up to go to the bathroom Sunshine just ignored the rest and started to chat her up. (He's a fast mover that one; must admit, impressively fast!)

Later that evening I sent everyone a "thank you for coming" email along with some pictures that we took during the date. My brother's ex replied back saying that she had a wonderful time, and had been invited to see the new StarWars film with him at the cinema, while the rest of us came back (both men and women) kind of feeling satisfied that at least we are not alone in the city of 12+million. We know that these guyz are just as single as the moment they walked into the restaurant as they left for the train station.

If Sunshine and my brother's ex hit it off, there are now two less singletons in this city. They will not be able to join us in our singleton activities while they go on dates, hold hands, kiss, and do all the things that couples always do. I suppose depending on the way you look at things, sometimes you win, but in general you tend to lose a little more.

Countdown To Sunshine "Mass Date"

2005-07-20T09:29:00.000+09:00

(I was going to write about my 3 day yoga retreat up in the mountains that I just returned from, but by judging the reaction to my post about seeking the help of a sexist man to organise a "mass date" for my friends, I think I will leave my Yoga tales a bit later and concentrate on more immediate, and potentially volatile situation.)

The date with Sunshine, et. al.

Ahh.... the dating thing. It can be both blissful, and painful. You are elated one moment, and before you know it you find yourself naked in the slimey depths of Hades. And why did I not elope with Nick and get a golden band on my wedding finger in Las Vagus? Good question; he had his finals, and I was starting a new job in Japan? Is that a poor excuse? Maybe. I could have just taken a huge risk, but the only thing that I can speculate with my ultimate rationality is that I am in my 30s.

Single women in their 30s -- early, mid, and late -- are all too "rational" and "crazy". And this state fluctuates unpredictably like the movements of a cat playing with it's toys.

We are conservative one moment, and in the next monent wild whores sleeping with anything and anyone with a penis and a pulse. (actually, some toys do not have pulses) -- we just can't help it. We are like teenage boys with their chronic acne and raging hormones wanking 7 times a day just to set a personal record; but does cumming 7 times a day make any sense? No. We seek some form of meaning to our actions.

We encounter many opportunities to find a mate/soulmate every second, but we miss it, or chose to ignore it, for there is that small "imp" that resides in the back of our minds that keeps repeating the words: "Are you sure you are doing the right thing? Is he the one? What if you got it all wrong...?" These imps have become our crystal ball, our Oracle of Delphi who have (mis)guided us through our abusive, passive aggressive, dead-end relationships that we have invested so much during our 20s. Ten years ago I was not too bothered about living with an unemployed drug dealer who was only "sorting friends out temporarily" while he was working on several grand "business plans" that would have changed the whole mobile telecommunications industry, food industry, tourism industry, et. al... Now, well... the imp tells me if I see similar signals, run the other way! "Girlfriend, fuck off and get a proper life!"

But is my imp right? Should I take old baggage from previous experiences and apply them to someone who may be completely different to my bitter experiences from the past? In my 20s I would have just told my imp to fuck off... but now, I am not too sure. But one thing is for sure, unless you try it, you just never know if it will work out or not. Just because Nick is on the other side of the world, it does not mean that I should automatically dismiss what we have; in fact I think what we have is still special. It's just that we don't have much time for each other... so in the meantime I guess I am going to enjoy my life just as I did before: hang out with the DWFs, go to Yoga retreats, climb mountains, have dinner with my gay friends, play with my cats -- OH! -- and flat hunting.

But you know what? At the end of the day, the mass date with Sunshine is just a bit of fun for me and my friends, for at the end of the day, I will always have a funny, private story to tell Nick. And I'm sure that Sunshine will send me a funny email on monday morning. :)

(Postscript: OK, so I will have to tell you guyz the gory details of how our date ends up! Luckily its going to be on a sunday evening, so they are probably not going to turn into the crude boys that they are -- I hope they make a relatively good impression on my friends. :)

Big Brother Is Watching, And Now I Have Been TAGGED?!

2005-07-15T21:19:00.000+09:00

Ok, so Viscous has for some reason got me involved me in this tagging business... I have also recently been asked to joing a "mass blog" session. What do they talk about? Who the hell knows. But anyway, in my monocellular drone-like style I will start off with answering Big Brother's questions about my reading materials as per the tag:

Number of Books I own: Over 900 novels/non fiction. Over 1300 Japanese "Manga" comics. My favourite? Right now the JoJo series.(yea, I am a nerd)

Last Book I Bought: The DaVinci Code, 1001 nights without sex (true story about a woman who went for over 3 years without sex because of all her dating disasters), (Japanese) The Howlings of a loser bitch (analysis of why women are getting married later, and there is a decline in birthrates in Japan. Are singletons losers? is her theme), Some Ducks Don't Fly (story about a photojournalist who ends up in a mental institition coz he's an alcoholic). Kabukicho Underground -- True Tales of the Underground World of The Seadiest Part of Tokyo

Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me: Totto-chan: A little Girl By The Window, a true story about a little girl with a very vivid imagination, but was mistaken as being stupid as a child.
Mama Black Widow -- by Iceberg Slim.... It just touched my heart in so many ways.
The Pilgrimage - by Paolo Coehlo. The story may seem simple, but the message is strong.
Brave New World -- Aldus Huxley. Makes me think about our world today...
The Chrysalids -- John Wyndam. Let's hope that the level of discrimination never reaches this point in the history of humanity.

Five Victims
My Neighbours Are Hoors
OBHDIGFHTT
Ouija
Sketchy jeoff
Kezza

Watch out all of you -- you shall be tagged soon!

Picky, Picky, Don't Be Picky! (right?)

2005-07-13T18:25:00.000+09:00

In Japan there is such thing called a Go-Con. I have no idea where the term originated from, but is it a small gathering of men and women who convene “en masse” in a semi-organised blind date. These Go-Cons are usually organised by two people – friends – who will organise a get-together with their singleton friends in a bid to meet new people/singletons who are swimming in the dating gene pool. In essence they “go” and “con” themselves into believing that their friends will introduce them to finding “true love” or “a good fuck” that night.

As you all know, I have already accomplished my “sex quota (refer to NYR#4)” for this year, and I have a lovely partner, albeit he resides on the other side of the planet. However, the other members of the DW Exclusive Committee have not reached their quota yet; in fact they are about to hit critical mass. So in a bid to get some action for the DW Inner Circle, I have looked to the most unlikely sources for help.

Sunshine.

Sunshine has mentioned several times in the past that we should have an arranged mass blind date (Go-Con). I have always taken his words with a pinch of salt, but in retrospect when I think about his prospective friends/aquaintances (considering his background in pre-med, MBA, etc.) he probably knows many eligible men who also have an equal network of even more eligible men/women for the DWFs to complete their quota this year. I know that having an impressive resume does not always guarantee that they are a nice person, but at our age, one of the things that we look for is that we don’t date lazy, poor, apathetic men who are always going to ask us to pay for our outings.

By the time you are thirty, nice men our age are either married, recently divorced (with 3 kids and alimony), or gay, so it is hard to find someone who lives close to you to take you out on casual dinner dates, short weekends, romantic drives… We women have all been indoctrinated by “Uncle Walt” during our childhood with his Cinderella, Snow White, and the “Happily Ever Afters…”. I hate to admit it, but at the end of the day women still loved to be woo and cooed... by Alpha Males.

I am really gritting my teeth as I write this, but the likes of Sunshine and club members of the Ivory Tower are indeed Alpha Males – socially speaking. Must admit, I I need to take a DNA sample to absolutely prove that they are indeed fully the crème de la crème, but anyone who ends up marrying with the likes of Sunshine and his MBA friends are going to have an easy life of fulltime maids, well educated children, and a glamourous social life, while maintaining the financial freedom that one enjoys as an independent singleton. We get to wake up next to the man we love every morning, but at the same time feel quite OK about calling “darling” up to tell him that you have to leave on Thursday for a 3 day business trip to Singapore.

We want commitment, and freedom. We want to chose the cake, bake it, admire it, and eat it with our lovers...

Are we being too picky in our age? Is this why we are still single in our 30s???

Does anyone have an answer to all this madness?? I forgot how "dating" was such an effort...

1001 Nights Without Nick

2005-07-07T23:53:00.000+09:00

(I know that some of you want to know about me and Nick... well here it is -- censored)

I recently read a book called The Curse of the Singles Table by Suzanne Scholosberg. It's a story about a woman who went without sex (involuntarily) for over 3 years before she met her partner for life, Paul.

The closest I have got to that record is only a half, but nonetheless impressive... And Nick broke that spell, I suppose.

As some of you readers know I met Nick online and in under a year of corresponding with him I decided to take a plane halfway round the world to visit him for a month. I never stayed in a hotel to keep my distance, nor did I call up my female friends to rescue me from a bad date.

I spent an entire month with a man who I had never met.

Nick and I still converse with each other, although we have many obstacles that not many people face (e.g distance), but when I think about him I always have a warm feeling inside me. I last saw Nick in mid April, but I still think about him.

He lives pretty much on the other side of the planet to me; he likes to stay at home and chill out, whereas I love to go out and try out new things/food. He likes order and structure, whereas I believe that everything can be "improved",(i.e nothing stays the same), he likes hiphop/rap, and I like mellow jazz/rock.

But it does not matter at all, because its the fundamentals that matter. I can see his honesty and essence when I look straight into his eyes. (he has big lovely eyes)

Nick, the only thing that I would request from you.... come and lie down with me, and make love to me every night.

Kiss me and make love to me me the way you so wonderfuly do.

I miss being part of you...

No Weddings, But A Funeral...

2005-07-07T22:31:00.000+09:00

I am currently reading a book written by a Japanese War photographer/journalist who suffers from clinical depression and alcoholism, just like me. You may wonder how someone can go about being depressed, not take madication, and live his life proudly drinking and gambling away -- comfortably.

Well. He does. And he does it with the support of his family. His wife is a famous cartoon artist whose recent work was made into a film; the story is both happy, and sad, but nonetheless a heartbreaking one. I have been a fan of his wife who portrays the lower ranks of the working class Japanese in simple style and language. She has two lovely children with the depressed war correspondent who spends less than 2 months in a year with his family. The rest of the time he is taking photos of flying shrapnel, or being stoned in a cheep hotel with no money for his next fix.

But he is one of my favourite Japanese writers.

Sometimes I wish that I could live a life like his: being stoned/drunk and unaware of anyone or anything... just let time pass. I meet people who I do not care about, but will help me kill time for the bottle (or two). I want to wake up at my own time, wonder in a strange land, take a few interesting photos, and go back to chasing the dragon with strangers for the rest of the day. I want to lose my memory to the point where I cannot remember when was the last time that I had a memory, just like the authour of the book that I read. And yet he has more than a lifetime of experiences and observances to last an eternity.

I wish that I could live a life of just emptiness so that I can embrace the whole...

Last week, a friend of mine committed suicide... I used to fancy him, but he went out with my friend. (plus I was going thru a breakup and wanted to take things slowly) I left it at that, but they broke up; nearly 6months after their break up he contacted me, and we went out for a casual lunch. He looked pale, and melancholy, but had a lovely afternoon. We enjoyed the sunset and a brief walk, talking about old times. And that was the last I heard of him.

Till I heard he was dead.

It's strange how you miss a person who you have not heard from in a year.

J, may you rest in peace. If things were different, you and I may have been lovers...

No Place Like Home....

2005-06-29T14:44:00.000+09:00

For some strange reason, I always feel at home when I stay in hotels. Right now I am staying at Hotel Okura, where our company is holding a conference for "female leaders" (or something). Last night at the end of the the conference I came to my hotel room only to find crisp linen, pre-arranged flowers on my pillow, stiff (but nonetheless comfortable) furniture, and chlorine bleached, thick towels that greeted me. It sounds really clinical, and very unfriendly, but to me it is one of those things that I have gotten used to over the years. This is my second home -- my home when I am away. All the comforts that I seek apart from my little kitties...

HOTEL ROOMS.

I know that many of you may think that I am crazy to even think that a sterile, crisp environment is one in which I find loads of comfort, but I can tell you all what -- I LOVE IT! I love being given clean bed linen each day. I love being given new towels every day, I love having my litter bin cleared out every day, and most of all I *LOVE* room serivce.

Let me tell you about something related to room service on other people's money. It's called "so can't give a shit, coz it ain't my money" syndrome. I have lived with this horrible disease for the past 5+ years... (I think), and I can't seem to find a cure... My dinner including wine tonight cost me just over US$1200. Impressive for a two course meal for one person, right? (and the funny thing is that I have spend nearly twice this amount at the Marriot in Singapore!)

Living in HK I have experienced living in "Hotel Room" like conditions in the form of 6day a week serviced apartments. I also found the same situation in Singapore and also in Korea: my place was cleaned by at least 2 lovely women who even taught me a few lessons about housecleaning which I will never practice in my entire life... Ever.

During my depressive states, I often wake in my sterile double bed, four pillows surrounding me wishing that I can live this life forever.

If only....

Oh Dear...

2005-06-17T18:39:00.000+09:00

Poor Sunshine.

I kind of feel sorry for him today -- it's been nearly a week since he went off to Singapore to answer to his BIG boss, the regional business head, who everyone refers to as SB, about the state that our project is in. SB was obviously not too pleased to hear that such a large, risky project has come to a halt for now. Today I had a chance to talk to Sunshine about settling accounts with our vendors, and he sounded like he was having a bit of a hard time with what's been going on.

"Hello, DWR. Yes, yes, please fax me the approval form so that I can sign it and settle the bills; I'll leave the rest up to you, please contact the financial controller before monday."

"Sunshine, where have you been tracking the project costs? I need to double check with the invoice that we have received."

"Oh, shit, well, I have not had captial appropriation for this project, so I was going to expense everything until I got the OK from headquarters. I was going to start tracking budget vs. actuals once I got full approval."

"Great... I'll tell you what, why don't you just leave it with me -- just don't even bother to think about the small things, you just deal with SB. I will create a master schedule for this project, and give you an actual cost based on all the activities and deliverables. I'll look at the contract, work out from there what needs to be paid, and what needs to be pushed back.
And please, from now on, just let us in IT deal with the daily management of this project; IT project management is our core competency, not yours. We will just report to you, so that you can keep the CEO happy. How about that?
"

"Thanks DWR... you've been of great help. I really appreciate your input and support on this project...."

And with that, Sunshine trailed off. I think he's getting bollocked by SB. Oh well. Once he returns from Singapore next monday, we can all try to cheer him up DWR tyle -- go out on the piss! YEAH! (and this time, I'll give him some slack if he starts to tell us stories of his sexual conquest during his business trip.)

And The Walls Came Tumbling Down...

2005-06-12T22:28:00.000+09:00

The walls of Jericho came tumbling down when Joshua came with his band of merry men. Unfortunately there were no trumpets, nor was there any divine intervention when a few walls of the ivory tower came down on thursday last week.

Let me explain.

Our CEO approved of our IT project on the condition that we did some hardcore Business Process Reengineering (BPR) -- basically that means that he wanted some major changes in the way the business is run. Sunshine and the boyz of the Ivory Tower are responsible for the BPR, and we in the Engine Room are responsible for getting the system implemented.

But the CEO was pissed off...

He was pissed off that the Ivory Tower were not doing their job properly, and put a stop on the project until his wishes were granted. Sunshine announced on friday that we will be putting the project on hold while the members of the Ivory Tower get their act together so that the project can continue...

For FUCK'S SAKE!! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER BOYZ!!!!! NOT ONLY DO YOU PISS ME OFF WITH YOUR CRAP, YOU FUCK UP MY PROJECT!!

Right! Action Plan from the DWR: "Project Management, Program Management, Ivory Tower Management, Stick a stick up the CEO's arse (management), "Get a life and go to yoga classes on weekdays"-style time management, "Do some serious Blog research" management....

Management, management. (Such wonderful ideals, don't you think? If only I could change the world...)

"I'd like to bring the world to sing, in perfect harmony, I'd like to put an end to this, pathetic company."

Outlook Meeting Request: DWF Action Plan

2005-06-08T22:51:00.000+09:00

(Today, dear readers, I am writing a post with my dear DWFs, Y and A. We are celebrating the football results of Japan vs. Stalinist North Korea (Mansei!!) -- actually this is just another poor excuse for us to contribute to the Chilean wine industry. This post is going to be a freestyle convo recording.)

Y: I am not happy, A, with your resource planning for your fridge. Beer is M-Teeee! Last weekendo (just 2 days ago), you habu meny meny beeru (beer). Wai!

(All laugh!)

A: No MRP (material resource planning) in this house. Today surprise audit for my fridge contents.... didn't expect, nor did I pass the audit.

(too fucking right! not enuf booze in dis house!!)

DWR: I cannot believe that we are sitting here in A's kitchen all writing my blog with not enuf booze, and no one has even volunteered to replenish the stock in the fridge, which is packed full of old, frozen steak.... Why there is so much steak, and not enuf booze, I do not know... anyway...

A: You should have just let me fucking go to 7/11 and go buy the booze!

(umm... it would take you more than 30 mins, by which time we would all have gone cold turkey and not been able to function properly.)

Y: DWFs should live up to their names and have their fridge stocked to the brim with booze, damn it!

DWR: Too fuckin' right!

A: Let me run to the store then.

(riiiiight... we would have left your house by then, to go home to our "stocked" fridge!!)

DWR: I love you guyz! You take all the stress out of my fuckt up day!!!

(CHEERZU! Let's have another round of booze.)

p.s.: DWR: A, why do you have a "Hello Kitty" doll in your kitchen?

Y: Oh it's from that Korean chick -- did she dump you?

A: Eh! I'm not getting into that, OK? Not my fucking fault, right?

DWR:... say no more, like I said. Let's have another drink

Drunken Indeed... Drunken.

2005-06-02T01:27:00.000+09:00

Weeeeeee!

back fuuuuukt as hell from company dinner that I organised for a guest from Oz -- just got told that I am doing a wonderful job from the boyz in the ivory tower, including Sunshine.

Sunshine even wanted me to move permanantly into the ivory tower and to go out with the other boyz after dinner that I organised. He even gave me a cummunal "HUG"(!) when we all said goodbye....

Men are so simple.

No Smoking Please!

2005-05-27T09:20:00.000+09:00

The CEO of our company is renouned within the organisation for sending funny emails -- personally -- to his employees. Two days before the company's annual conference in Bangkok last year, he sent out an email to all employees saying that anyone caught in Pat Pong, a seedy, nightlife area in Bangkok will be fired. On the spot. (Why is it that my company's employees have to be reminded not to go to dodgy brothels in Bangkok? Oh, I forgot. He sees the "trash" in the Ivory Tower all the time, he's bound to think that is the norm in the company.)

Yesterday our CEO sent out one of his famed personal emails on smoking after one of the local residents complained about our employees smoking at a children's playground.

(Translated from the original email)

From: CEO
To: All Employees

Subject: **Important Notice: No Smoking Please!**

Hello Everyone.
There has been some claims from local residents of a kiddy's playground who were disturbed by the mountains of cigarette butts left by the nicotine addicts of our firm. The local authorities have notified me that they will be removing the ashtrays from the playground as of June 6th. HOWEVER, I will state that from this day forward the kiddy's playground is a SMOKE FREE ZONE. Even if you take your own ashtray you are forbidden to smoke there. (remember, it is a KIDDY'S PLAY GROUND not a cancer zone for those with a death wish.)

CEO,
DW Company

TOO FUNNY! A CEO of a large multinational company has the time to send funny emails like this!!! Oh and the idiots who need to be repremanded about littering in public? I want to see their faces!! Must admit that I usually delete the 50+ emails that come into my inbox everyday, but this one I will keep in a special folder called "CEO Rantings".

Confucius Dinner Meetings

2005-05-26T02:49:00.000+09:00

Confucius say:"The people may be made to follow a path of action, but they may not be made to understand it."

RIIIIIIGHT!

Does that mean that I have to blame "men" kind on behalf of the likes of Sunshine??? Do I have to blame testosterone for the fact that men openly (encouragingly) cheat on their wives and their loved ones? Do I have to blame society for it's apathy towards the treatment of minority groups -- whether it is women, or disabled people? If I had a child that committed a crime against humanity, am I supposed to blame the "environment" or "genetic factors" for what it did?

Fuck that, Confucius! I need another drink...

(yup, it is going to be a long while before I tell you about me and Nick, coz I need to vent BIG TIME about what is going on in my life in general!!! Grrr, and yes, I need another drink.)

Yup. Dinner with my team-mates didn't go as smootly as I had hoped it would...(go figure, this was posted at 2:48am!!!)

Sun Tan

2005-05-24T23:59:00.000+09:00

I have been observing the workings of Sunshine et. al. I have also been observing public opinion and movement towards how women are treated in Japan. I have looked into child pornography, and also perves on trains, and all I can say is that this place needs some radical changes in the way it treats its minority groups (incl. women)

Which brings me back to Sunshine.

Sunshine and his band of merry men are scheduled to have dinner with my big boss tomorrow evening. I have in the past put up with Sunshines sexist remarks and tales of conquest in establishments that can only be discribed as "phantom" harems for men who have an ego problem. I have sat listening to the "boys'" sexual conquest at Sydney Airport, I have also sat thru 2 days of "this is the type of women that I love to screw" stories from Sunshine et al. and I have protested in a nice way all along.

Tomorrow evening I am having dinner with my big boss, the VP of Information Management in our organisation. The VP is a family man, and has kindly asked me in private if I was "OK" with the way that Sunshine was treating me during our last dinner when Sunshine called me "Babe" in front of everyone... (no I am not too happy about it!!)

I must admit that I am not too religious, but I am going to pray to God this evening:"Dear Lord, please give me the strength to stay in focus all day long, and not bust Sunshine's balls to shits. Please give me the courage, Lord, to keep my sharp tongue in my mouth, and not lash out at the arse that I may be licking tomorrow, even tho I am not into that sort of thing. And please Lord, if you are doing any major projects to remove bad or corrupted files from our planet, do not forget the likes of Sunshine and his pals on the 10th floor, coz I think they need to be....

Ctrl+Alt+Deleted. "
(otherwise can you just defrag me instead. Amen.)

I think that I have had enuf sunshine that I think I am getting a bit of a sun tan.

No More Perverts, Please!

2005-05-22T14:17:00.000+09:00

From May 9th my commuter line started running "Women Only" carriages during rush hour in the mornings on weekdays. It is the third private railway company in Tokyo to reserve carriages for women in the mornings after a large number of reported sexual assult cases on their trains. Tokyo is a hub of perverts who take pictures of women's underwear using cameras on their phones, who grope women's bodies, and who openly engage in onanism and "leave their mark" on our garments. I, too, have been a victim of these perves, but unfortunately it is difficult to pinpoint the culprit, for the train is just too crowded to even turn our heads.

The other day I decided to take the "women only" carriage, only to find it just as crowded, if not more, than the other carriages. I guess that there are many women who are just fed up being treated as a "sexual toy" by strangers who can't control their testicular urges. I must admit that even tho' it was packed on the train, I felt safe being in a feminine environment with my fellow sisters.

Unfortunately the "Women Only" carriage becomes a "unisex" carriage as soon as the clock strikes 9:30am, at which time the dirty scroundrels rush onto our oestrogen-train, sniffing our perfumes and pheromones, their minds off to the set of an amateur porn shoot where they are the leading men, and we their slaves.

Dirty little feckers!

I thought that we could be immune from these horney dawgs, but no. Make a carriage only for women, and all they do is try to infiltrate it. Well, we are not going have any more of your stupid antics; we are going to come in and bust your balls coz we are fed up with having cum stains on our skirts when we get to the office. We are fed up of the underground pornography that depicts our underwear that you filmed without our permission, and we are going to push for the railway companies to run Women Only carriages ALL DAY!!!

We've had enuf: "No More Perverts, Please!"

Spam, Spam, and Spyware

2005-05-22T11:51:00.000+09:00

Look at my page!! What is going on!!! There are funky, ugly links in there that some stupid, spamerama spyware has embedded! It's on ALL my posts, which means that I have to go into all my posts to remove the ugly HTML code that decided to lay root in my inner voice.

Fuck! I don't need this on a sunday afternoon!

GRRRRRRRRR!

Drunken Project Members

2005-05-19T20:50:00.000+09:00

I discovered last night after dinner that my project team members are all seasoned alcoholics. We sat in Sunshine's suite till 3am drinking and talking B.S. The boyz were on full form: going on and on about some of the women that they are/were having an affair with, and of course Sunshine was giving us an insight into some of his past relationships, and why he is still single.

Apparently he is "commitment phobic".
(as if I give a damn)

I can already tell that this project I am on is going to be a drunken, hungover one. All of us were at the conference room by 8am this morning, freshly showered and raring to go. None of us seemed to be hampered in any way; in fact I think we were all high until lunch time.

We are all drunken project members, which is probably not good for my health...

Repacking...

2005-05-17T23:34:00.000+09:00

FUCK! It does not seem that long ago since I came back from Oz, and I am now repacking my "home" (Samsonite) to go off on another business trip. I wouldn't mind it so much if I was going by myself and things were all going to be "funky-dorey", but I have to spend ANOTHER 2 nights with "Sunshine", which pisses me off. Do I have to listen to his sexist remarks for another couple of days?

I guess so...

Ray Of Sunshine In The Ivory Tower

2005-05-14T09:12:00.000+09:00

Every company has it's own culture: some are much more "people" focused, others are more focused on innovation and vision, but whatever the corporate culture evidently people chose to work for a specific company based on how they feel that they will fit in. Even as a graduate entering the job market for the first time in your life, you wouldn't necessarily chose to work for an arse-hole company even if they paid you lots of money (ok, there are some who will work for the big $$$, but those are the ones who tend to pass away early, often under violent circumstances.)

It has now been nearly 2 and a 1/2 weeks since I started at my new company, and I have now started to get a good idea about internal politics, and the "true" corporate culture: the one they never tell you at the interview. The culture they so desparately go to extends to hide carefully...

My desk is on the 5th floor of our office building. I'm part of the IT department, which, I suppose, acts like the foundation to support the business; it's ironic that all the "business divisions" are located in the floors above us. We are the "engine room" of our company. However, the further you go up, one gets closer to the "Ivory Tower" where all the high profile people and their elitist "boys" are seated. The Ivory Tower is where the coroporate finance, corporate strategy, etc. goes on, and that is also where most of my project's team members have their desks. And in the open, Scandinavian-style cubicle opposite the CEO's office sits "Ray of Sunshine".

Ray of Sunshine is definately bright, full of energy, charismatic, rich, and to look at he is a classic, oriental "tall, dark, and handsome" person (if that is your taste). Most people in my dungeon department when they hear of his name either blush, or shy away as they say:"Sunshine of the Ivory Tower... He's your project manager, isn't he DWR? What is he like?" In honest truth, after spending 2nights and 4 days on a business trip with Ray of Sunshine I can tell all the little people who work on the 5th floor in my department that he is a prick. A chauvenistic, air-headed, prick who knows sweet F.A. about Business IT, and he's always full of shit.

How did I come to this conclusion? Simple. He called me "Babe" in front of my Big Boss, the VP of Regional IT, when we were invited out for dinner in a posh restaurant. Sunshine *acutally* had the audacity to say to me in his drunken state:"Go on, babe! Give it to me, babe!!" -- what a prick!!!

Must admit that I pulled Sunshine aside later on in the evening and told him off for treating me this way, but if he is a classic example of how the workers of the Ivory Tower behave, I have a rough 18+ months -- perhaps even YEARS -- ahead of me... The Ivory Tower has a very different culture to the friendly one in the Engine Room.

Back From Oz

2005-05-14T00:23:00.000+09:00

Fucking hell!!!

I'm back from Sydney after having spent 2 nights and 4 days in the land down-under. I didn't have time to go and see my friends, I didn't have time to go and see the sights, and I most certainly didn't have time to keep up my personal hygiene -- all I did was work and drink with my colleagues... who are chauvenistic, elitist IIIIIIIDIOTS!! (but unfortunately they get the job on time, and with high quality... how can I cut them lose!!!)

My home (aka. the suitcase) is still in the corridor, for I can't be bothered to unpack: I'm off on ANOTHER F'IN business trip next wednesday. House keeping cleaned all the contents of my house so I really do not have the need do change the status quo of my Samsonite.

I think that I am sufficently pissed off with the "little boyz" who were on the business trip with me to Sydney that I will expose their silly antics, but for now I am tired after having spent 9 hrs on a plane, but having had to walk straight into the office looking like an imp with greasy, manky hair...

I need to get some sleep.

Clean, fresh, post-shower sleep.

Living Out Of A Suitcase...

2005-05-08T22:10:00.000+09:00

I have lived out of a suitcase since I was 10 years old (I grew up in a boarding school, but I will tell you about that later). This evening I have to pack my suitcase (again) for a business trip to Sydney. Business trips sound glamourous, but they are really quite boring; they are not much more than an extension of a rush hour commute. Instead of spending 1.5hrs on your way to work, you spend 9hrs (including your beauty sleep) on a comfortable, 1st class treatment to your office.

For 2 days.

That is the reality of business trips. It is neither glamourous, nor wonderful. For any graduates who are thinking of getting into an industry that invovles "International Travel", I want to stress that often you spend 3hrs+ at airports getting from A to B, you are expected to go to the office even after a 9hr flight, and that there are no showers on board... even on 1st Class.

Living out of a suitcase sucks!

Fringe Benefits

2005-05-06T00:54:00.000+09:00

I love fringe benefits.

For someone who spent a lot of time consulting various companies on how to reduce costs and increase profits I have taken full advantage of the stationary cabinet and added significantly to the SG&A of the companies that I have worked for. Not only did I used to get free internet access, use of PC, and stationary, I have also used the corporate card for "Entertainment Fees" that just would not hold water if I had worked for the accounts department. Consulting is an industry where you can just get away with using other people's money. And the more you can abuse the fringe benefits system, the better you are at your job.

I now peddle my arse to a pharma/consumer business/medical devices company. I no longer have the fringe benefits that I used to enjoy at the Pink Elephant... Not only do I now have to pay for my own stationary, but also I cannot install my own software on my work PC, I can't use IM, my internet traffic gets monitored by some Bozo in Singapore who will fire me for looking at "adult" sites in my free time, and I have to sign a piece of paper every year that says that I will not abuse the system.

Fuck that.

Luckily I have many ways to by-pass the system, and I will continue to be a blog warrior using my fringe benifits. My company does not pay me enuf to abide by their rules. I work for the IT department so I can cover my own arse! Never in my life have I *not* had fringe benefits, and I am not about to change my habits either.

Vivre la Fringe Benefits!

Lovely Nick

2005-05-06T00:01:00.000+09:00

Shit... before I talk about how lovely Nick is, I better go to bed. It is now 2am in the morning, and I need to get my fat arse into the office for 8am tomorrow.

Nick is lovely, and I suppose I better share my time in Wisconsin with him another time.

Fuck!! I hate having a "steady" job; I wish I was on my own time and my own deliverables. I started with my new office on the 18th of April, and I have already racked up receipts for business trips. I am off to Australia next week, and I have no idea when I can next take time off to see Nick.

Bollocks!

Losing the Plot

2005-05-01T18:24:00.000+09:00

No. I am not referring to me losing the plot; I can't lose what I never had in the first place. I am talking about the Wench Mum. I think that she is really losing the plot. I have a blog called The Wench Mum Chronicles where I write about some of the eccentric things that my mother gets up to, but after today's outburst I am not sure if I should continue to write about her antics as before.

It's quite scary...

The Wench Mum and I were supposed to go shopping today; I had said that we will leave the house around 10am, but unfortunately I fell asleep at around 9am after spending the entire night on my PC. Mum gave up on the idea of shopping all together even tho I woke up at 1pm and told her that we had plenty of time to look for some computer accessories for her. I know that I should have upheld my promise to leave at 10am, but hell it's a holiday, and leaving 3hours later than planned is probably slightly annoying, and not much else.

But, the saga didn't stop at a slight inconvinience.

The crazy woman started to punch the walls and kick furniture till her knuckles started to bleed!!!!!! WTF!!! How crazy is that! She was just screaming at a high pitch coz she was seriously pissed off that I had disrupted her plans and was ready to start hurling shit out of the window!! I told her to calm down but she was shouting and throwing things at me. This is a 60 yo woman throwing a temper tantrum like a 2yo; the scary thing is that this is not the first time that she has acted in this manner.

The woman is exhibiting signs of neurodegeneration which could be attributed to senile dimentia, Alzheimer's, or even CJD. If indeed her brain is atrophying due to old age, it won't be long before she can't remember who I am, or where she lives...

Fuck. I need a drink.

Cul De Sac

2005-05-01T06:10:00.000+09:00

There was a 1.5 month break in between my postings in the March/April period. Some people may have blamed it on my official break in between jobs, others may have attributed it to my visit to the US to see Nick. To be honest with you, I have no idea why I have no urge to write.

Usually I would be walking down the street, day dreaming in the station, or even spending time in the restroom and there would be ideas running through my mind like worker ants rushing towards the nest before the precious eggs hatch, but for the past 2 months nothing seems to come into my head.

I have been trying to increase external stimulus to encourage my mindset, but everything that I seem to do has had no results, which is one of the biggest reasons why there has been such a gap between my postings...

Does anyone have any good ideas on how to get the DWR back on track like she used to?? Or maybe she will never get there again and needs to be told... Is the apathy due to my clinical depression, or is it just that my mind is somewhere else? Once again in my life I am a bit lost....

Heeeeeelllllpppp.

(Oh well, if nothing comes to my mind I will just not write; I can't do any better... right?? Shit, whichever way, if I feel like shite I know that I can call up Nick who is 14hrs behind coz I can rely on him to be there for me when I am feeling crap...)

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick!!!!

(Post script: the kitties are bothering me for food so I will leave this issue to be solved at a slightly later time/date. Why is life so complicated?!?)

Back Now, WTF Is Going On!!!!

2005-04-18T22:39:00.000+09:00

Have I been hacked to death by some psycho who lives in Wisconsin while I have been away for the past month??

No.

(Nick is a lovely person, and he would never dream of turning me into minced meat. I am very much alive.)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Bloody hell! Just got back from the US (2 weeks ago) after visiting Nick, and I see that: a) many people have left a comment, b) people have a strong opnions/views about Katz & Dawgs, c) the Pope is dead, d) the Chinese populous is protesting about our occupation in the middle of the last century, e) the stock prices are taking a "scuba" dive, f) the "beef crisis" and the trade deficite amongst Japan, US and China is looking about as appetising as my cat's fur ball, g) the pharmeceutical industry is still making money/profits out of sick and dying people, h) my good friend and neighbour Kim Pong Pill (Kim Jong Il) has made another lot of cheap nuclear bombs, etc. Shit!!! I just can't keep up!!!! Maybe I should leave my topics to a narrow spectrum and start a detailed, scientific observation on canines vs. felines, re-evaluate the relationship between China and Japan, or perhaps expose my new company about its dubious business practices!!!

(For those that are new to this site, I work for a big pharma/medical devices company, but I ethically oppose the industry's practices... yes I prostitute my knowledge and services: "Would you like me to put in some sand in the vasceline while you shaft my rectum with a barge pole???")

Ummm..... Ok, seeing as I had a bit of a break let's begin by filling in some of the gaps. I'm now back from my month(+) holiday in the US. I had a wonderfully relaxing time with Nick, but in the meantime I have had many topics in my head that I wanted to cover, including the Chinese nationalist computer hackers, my new job, me and Nick, my catz, my life in Tokyo, weirdos on commuter trains, and anything else that goes on in my life.

But...*plonk* (bottle opening) Ok, I'm too tired, maybe another day.... I am only human. I can't write every day, nor can I pick up a new topic and research it in detail so that I can come up with something that I can feel happy about that I can share with you. I hate to admit it, but it's probably 'coz I don't have enuf happy pills to keep me going with the level of energy that I demand, or expect for myself.

Sorry. Shit happens, and bullshit runs a marathon. But one thing that I can say is that I am still a silly drunken wench. That's good enough, right???

Anyway, before I continue to hand out lame excuses about my 5+week absence I want to thank the following people who left their mark on my site/visited my site and sent me an email (in the order that was written):

Oh Please Mind The Head/"JimBob"
Saby
Kezza/Missy
Ogri
Stacie
Arc of Polaris
Rex Venom
Nina
AGFH
Miranda
Anon (C)
Sketchy Jeoff(x2)
Buzzy
Ouiji
Anon (S)
LeftoverJoe
+ Everyone else who read my stuff but didn't leave a message, or to those that I have missed in my list so far.

Phew!! Being fucked up and depressed isn't easy, huh???

*Right, let's crack open another bottle of CabSauv, and start on the next bit.*

Cheerz everyone!

Katz vs. Dawgs

2005-03-23T22:21:00.000+09:00

Nick is a dog owner. He owns a large, hairy dog. And this is the first time in my adult life that I have had the chance to closely study the behaviour pattern of dogs. Yesterday I had the opportunity to take Nick's dog for an hour's walk, and discovered that dogs are very, very different to cats. Very different.

Cats always go to the toilet in the same place, and bury their shit, piss, whatever, in kitty-gritty. The owner (e.g. me) merely has to get a pooper-scooper, remove the deeds, and throw it away. One can clean up kitty-shitty on auto-pilot, or totally hung over, coz they always shit in the same place. Dogs on the other hand shit whenever and wherever they feel like taking a dump; whether it is on the pavement, on someone's front garden, or even in front of a restaurant. If a dog wants to crap itself, it will. The owner therefore has to walk around with a bag of shit while the dog happily continues on its search for another location to take a dump.

Cats have an acute sense of smell. They use their olifactory senses to make sure that they do not eat rotten food, or to go anywhere near smelly things like fecal matters of other species. Dogs too have an acute sense of smell, however, they use this hightened sense to search out smelly items, like other dogs' shit, or dead cats, and get a really GOOD whiff of it. They sometimes even rub their body parts in smelly things so they can take the stench back to their homes.

Cats do not like to get their fur dirty or wet. They spend a good part of their waking day grooming and cleaning their coat. This is true for both indoor and outdoor cats, but in particular indoor cats are very fastidious about maintaining the condition of their fur. Cat owners of course can assist their feline friends and brush them, but in general cats can take care of themselves. Dogs on the other hand (if they could) would make the most out of their days trying to get their coats as filthy as possible. The wetter and the muddier the better. It is almost as if dogs wear wet mud on their fur as we women wear make-up on our faces. Muddy Dog = effort at looking attrative to the opposite sex. However, just like with some women, make up, or no make up, a dog is still a dog.

Cats require vertical exercise and therefore their linear territory on a map is usually small. Castrated male cats in general hang around a territory no bigger than 400m in diameter, and of course a feline "stud" will have his harem within approximately 2km sq. Cats are often seen on people's car bonnets, walls, even on roof tops, which is a very sweet site. Yesterday I was soooooo happy to find out that dogs do not exhibit these feline traits, and that they require *horizontal* exercise , i.e. dogs stay on the ground. I would have been at a complete loss if Nick's big, hairy dog started to climb onto people's homes; that dog would surely put a hole in someone's roof, and I know it would have been a peculiar site had the dog decided to take a dump right there and then.

So Where The F@K Am I?

2005-03-22T08:02:00.000+09:00

Ok, so three days ago I got on a plane from Tokyo's Narita airport which took me 15hours back in time. I decided to take this bold step in time travel to see someone special who has been in my life for a while, but has always been half a day behind me. We used to leave each other messages online, or in the form of email, so that when the sun knocks on our bedroom windows we can see the shadows, the imprints, left behind from a different time and a different place.

Time travel? Shadows and imprints from a different time and space? WTF, DWR?! It sounds like a bad script for a B-grade science fiction/love story (i.e. total feckin' madness), but I kid you not. Nick lives in Wisconsin, and I live in Tokyo. That is the story, and this is where I have been for the past 2 or 3 days. (Can't seem to work out what time I am living in.)

Ok, so now that I have travelled 15hours back in time do I look and feel younger? No... In fact I am still combating not only the ugly hives that manifested itself after eating dodgy seafood, but also:

Dry skin caused by the excessive tanning in Thailand and the freezedry conditions of the 12 hour flight on the 747 (oh yes, I know, it takes 12hours to travel 15hours back in time -- go figure! Who came up with the concept of time?!)
Tight hamstrings caused by being carted in the foetal position for half a day on "No-I-Don't-Know-Where-Your-Baggage-Is-But-It's-Somewhere-In-The-Western-Hemisphere" Airlines (and why do I need flexible hamstrings? go work it out for yourself!)
Jet lag, or some other form of sleeping disorder that is biting heavily into my month's worth of benzodiazepine supply (not a good sign coz I need my jellies.)
Dry eyes -- dunno the cause, but it could be something to do with the horse tranqs that I am using to combat #3 (kiddin' -- not using horse tranqs, yet, but if this sleeping disorder does not fix itself I am going to have to turn to my old friend, rhohipnol which is bad news coz he's bad company, and would probably make me lose ANOTHER 15 hours and I'll end up in Ulanbatur, or something. And that would not be good coz I came all the way out to Wisconsin, not somewhere along the silk road.)

Thankfully, Nick does not seem too bothered, or in the least bit concerned, about the above symptoms so that is one salvation. (Who is Nick? If you don't know? Here, read this.) My other consolation is that I made an extra looooooong booking at Boudoir BEFORE I came to the shores of Lake Michigan, and did some serious body maintenance. Luckily I am realatively youthful not to warrant major roadworks done on my body, but there were a few potholes that had to be fixed and "grass cutting" at the day spa. Nothing major, but enuf to keep the list to a minimum for now.

Phew!

(Post script: I am not particularly looking forward to travelling 15hours into the future again in a month's time -- reason? I'll age once more, which means that I will have *additional* items to add to my "fight aging" list, and I will have to resort to leaving little time capsules for Nick like I used to...)

A Little Journey?!

2005-03-21T10:09:00.000+09:00

Why is it that everytime that I travel somewhere I encounter a semi-drama. It is not as if these incidents that I write about (like the time the Japanese drunken businessman collapsed in front me at HK airport) are all part of my expansive imagination; these things really happen all the time to me and I don't know why.

(Maybe it's because I am always fashionably late, but that should not be the only factor as to why things happen to my on my journeys)

Take for instance my most memorable, and possibly most disturbing incidence that happened to me while I was travelling through Europe on a train with my then boyfriend. We were travelling on the cheap with our inter-rail pass, and just like any poor student in order to cut our accomodation fees for our journey we would always take the night train (second class carriage where everyone scrambles for a cubicle and locks themselves in, even if the ticket collector asks for your tickets) to our next destination. We had travelled from Sweden through Denmark and onto Berlin in as many days. A day is enough in all these places, for it was not the first time that I had visited these places, plus even in the summer the weather was not warm enough.

Back in 1993 not long after the Berlin wall came down and the before the first Balkan conflict between the Croats and the Serbs, many of us were attracted to visit extotic Eastern European cities like Prague, Dubrovnik, Mostar, and Budapest. Our first port of call on the night train from Berlin was to Prague; now in those days anyone travelling on a non "European" passport required a visa, and a lot of bribery to get into, none of which I, nor the three Australian travel companions that we had met in Coppenhagen, had with us at the time. At around 2am as we approached the Eastern German border town of Dresden there came into our carriage three uniform clad relics from the communist past.

Yup, they were the boarder patrol. And yes, we got kicked off the train because we didn't have the right documents, enough German Marks, or Polish vodka to pursuade these manequin like officials who didn't seem to understand the universal language of "you scratch my back, and I will give you a huge kick-back".

The cold floors of Dresden station at 2am even on a summer night is not the most friendliest place on the planet. The five of us huddled together, smoked all our dutyfree Samson's Blue pouch, and looked at the train timetables to get us out of this hell hole as soon as possible. Dresden was a city of culture, a city with many gothic architecture, a city of beautiful museums and galleries, a city of cutting edge industry back in 1945 just before the allies had blitzed the place to rubble, and not a single piece of renovation had happened in since the end of WWII. This was not a nice place to stay overnight especially for a group of five people who spoke little, or no German, and had no money.

It was also not a good place for prostitutes to do their business.

In the 4hours that we spent on the hard stone floors we saw 3 prostitutes who were soliciting potential clients that were "pulled over" and taken to a special room where the station guards beat them up, took their belongings (including their shoes), and possibly sexually assaulted them. I met one of the girls in the toilets crying, tending to her black eye after she had been released from the "Polizeistation" with her money, her bag and her shoes confiscated. In my limited German I could make out that she had some trouble sitting down, and that she had to walk home with no shoes; I had enough sandles and shoes on me so I gave her my raggedy Espidrills that didn't fit her too well, but I will never forget the sunken look in her blackened eyes that said: Thank you for your kindness, and you want to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. Otherwise they will take your passport and your money.

That night we had too much tabacco and not enough booze, but we still managed to take the first train out of Dresden which took us to Genoa, Italy without being assulted, or having our possessions taken from us.

*************

Today I can live to tell the tale and call it the worst journey so far in my life; however my trip to the land "12hours away" to see Nick was not exactly uneventful either. A certain airline carrier (which I shall not name, but starts with North and ends with West) managed to lose my luggage during the transfer at Mineannapolis. Even Dresden's rigid boarder gards managed to keep all confiscated inventory in check, but not these airlines... no. I bet you anything that the Dresden guards had properly barcoded and sorted all the belongings that they took from the prostitutes, and even took physical inventory on a daily basis. Perhaps the "No-Way-Am-I-Competent" Airlines should learn a thing or two about keeping tabs of one's luggage, and the guards at Dresden should learn to smile and take a few bullshit from unsatisfied customers.

The Last Supper With The DWFs

2005-03-21T10:00:00.000+09:00

Sometimes you need friends to keep you in check, to make sure that you are making the right choices, or eating the right foods. I have DWFs, Y and A, who do just that. Two nights ago I had my official "Last Supper" with the DWFs as colleagues, for I will no longer be working for the same Pink Elephant as them. We sat together drinking distilled alcohol (or something), singing silly Japanese love songs, and discussing my new job and my 12hr trip to see Nick.

They wished me well, and left me the bill, but here's to my DWFs -- now that I could potentially be your client, you better start learning how to kiss my boots and brown-nose me arse. Oh, and don't even think about expensing all our drunken sessions onto my corporate card, coz I will be up shit creek with my new boss. You guyz can go and talk to that crazy boss of yours to write it off on the business unit; I know the drill so don't even bother cheating me, babes.

Nah, honestly, Y and A, cheers for all your support, I am doing well here. I am not chopped up, nor am I sold off as slave labour, yet (unlike you.) Love ya both, and see you when I get back!!

(Post script: I'll come clean, I voluntarily (happily) picked up the bill that night, not that my DWFs ran off and left me with the bill. I was more than happy to treat them. On a different note I think there was something funny with the food that night, coz Y now also has hives like me... Or maybe there was not enuf alcohol consumed to disinfect the allergens, whatever they were.)

Hives

2005-03-18T23:38:00.000+09:00

Fuck!!! I cannot believe this! I started to pack for my holiday/break to see Nick tomorrow, and I noticed that my back was slightly itchy. There is also a slight itch near my belly button and also the insides of my arms -- all places with sensitive skin...

I am covered in fucking HIVES!!!!! It must be that fucking mackrel sashimi that I had for dinner -- there I am packing my skimpiest, sexiest underwear and my body is covered in some disease looking red rash. If those anti-histamines do not work by tomorrow morning, I am fuckt coz I have a 12 hour flight to endure, and no one is going to want to hug a woman who just came back from a holiday in Thailand, where they have had cases of birdflu, covered in red blotches.

I am doomed. Doomed, doomed, doomed... I hope the hives disappear soon.

Making That Leap

2005-03-18T22:10:00.000+09:00

I discovered the other day that I can no longer be a blood doner in Japan because I spent more than ONE DAY in either Britain, or France, in between 1987 to 1999. And why am I, a universal donor (almost), not allowed to help people who need some fresh blood? Because the risk that the recepient may contract the new varient of CJD, often linked to consumption of BSE (aka. Mad Cow Disease) afflicted animals. It doesn't matter that I was a vegitarian at that time, nor the fact that I am lactose intolerant, I am simply not allowed to donate blood "just in case. The risk is too high..."

Well today I would like to point out to both the Ministry of Wealth Thru Slave Labour, and Cuts in Healthcare, and the Ministry of "Everything is Foreign to Me" Affairs that tomorrow I am taking the biggest risk I have taken in my entire life, and whatever the outcome I am going to hack into your site and post a huge message saying:"I Did It My Way!"

Let me take a few steps back -- maybe a couple of months -- to tell you my story. I met someone online; this online meeting was not your average online dating where you put profiles up of yourself, pictures, hobbies, likes, dislikes, "looking for a longterm relationship. Email with photos pls." This was even stranger because I was approached by someone who liked my Blog. He had never met me, and yet he was drawn to someone who had openly admitted that they were bulimic, that they have feelings of wanting to fall in love, that they get angry about human rights abuses, that they were just writing because they liked to write.

It is not everyday that you meet a person who sees your heart before your face; in most cases whether you meet someone at a bar, at a booksigning event, or even at a friend's party the first piece of information that you have about another person is what they look like, not how they view life. All my ex's have been the former type -- I know what they look like, then I find out what makes them laugh.

Imagine being blind, and the only information that you have of another person is how they sound, what they are saying, how they smell, and how smooth their skin is; I have even less than that. For the past 2 months I have had romantic feelings about a man who lives 12hours away; we are like the sun and the moon, when I am up, he is asleep, and when he wakes, I am tucked away in bed. What little time we have we spend chatting with our webcams, and that is pretty much it; but this is the last day that I will be resorting to playing catch up, for I will board a plane tomorrow afternoon to see this person who has been part of my life for the past 2 months. Tomorrow I am making that leap....

Today there is a shortage of blood in Japan. My blood type, O positive, makes me pretty much a universal doner. I usually give blood once every 6 months, because I know that somewhere someone needs blood, my blood, to survive. The risk of me, an ex-vegitarian, being a nCJD carrier is slight; why don't they make that leap to find out if I can continue to donate blood, just as I am making that great leap to travel to see the man in my dreams.

Sometimes you have to face fear and believe in yourself to make changes to your life.

Ecowarriors In A Suit

2005-03-17T12:14:00.000+09:00

As an ardent tree-hugger in a suit and with a penchant for fuck-off infrastructure, I have always admired organised liberal ecowarriors who make SENSE. I was just doing some research when I came upon this site:

BOO!

Yup, I'm a softy in someways but I like to find a place to vent out on anything from food processing to Microsoft products. I think that I have found the next Onion and the Viz for my resources and outlets. (Ok, the Viz is just sooo unserious/sarcastic/ironic that I should not even consider it, but nonetheless up there as one of my favourite comics along with Lobo.)

Let's see if I can dig up a few articles and "FRAAGGG 'em" as dear Lobo would say; may his soul rest in peace.

Memories

2005-03-16T13:30:00.000+09:00

I am always fascinated by the concept of human memory, both conscious and subconsious. I am blessed/cursed with a good memory for totally irrelevant detail to most. The simple reason that I remember things is that I associate either a thought or an emotion to something that "sicks" to my mind. For instance there is a brand of shampoo that I cannot bear to use simply because it is associated with a very painful breakup with one of my first "loves". I will never forget the time I was in tears, after my breakup, washing my hair with a specific brand of shampoo thinking "why? why did he break up with me? what did I do wrong?". Nearly 17 years on, I cannot even look at that bottle of shampoo (I'll give you a hint, it's distributed by P&G)

I also conversly have good memories that I come back to all the time: music. Even after I break up with a man, or is in love with a bloke I will listen to the same song frequently to resurrect the good memories of holding hands in the park, kissing in the cinema just before the film starts, singing to a tune when we are both doing the washing up. Yes there may be some negative memories that will return, just like the shampoo, but there are times when I listen to old CDs, sing along to it, and remember his tender touch.

Right now I am listening to a song that I have a memory for someone I have not met. The lyrics remind me of the situation that we are in right now, for we are apart. It is by a group called Blue Six, and it has already made memories that have not been actualised simply because we live on different continents, in different timezones:

Five O'clock I don't know what to do, It's much too late to
call and it's soon to go and see you. If I arrived with a suitcase at your door, would you throw your arms around me, would we make love on the floor
Different lives, we sleep in different beds, we sleep in differnt
countries while your voice plays in my head, If I tried to be smarter than before, would you tell me that you missed me, would you love me even more
It feels right, won't you remember me, It's alright, just
think of me and you're always close to home. Little lies. And feelings of regret from wounds that never heal, from memories I'd fled. Windy night and touble at the door, hiding in the quiet I remember where you are.

It feels right, won't you remember me on
cold nights, just think of me and you are always close to home

Think of me

I am not usually an emotional person, nor do I give my heart away to too many people. I have more FBs-- men who I sleep with on a regular basis (only one at a time tho') -- but do not give my heart out to FBs, for it is fear of losing my control of my emotions that makes me chose these types of relationships with men.

But this time it seems different. There is no pressure on my half coz if all goes wrong I can just hop on the next flight to wherever and visit friends, go trekking, go diving; mentally there is no obligation to stay with this one man that I chose to stay with for a month...

But these lyrics haunt me everyday and the more I think about it I know I will regret it if I put in a half arse effort and do not put my heart on the line. My heart has been broken many times, once more is not going to kill me, but what will kill me is my regret for not going for it, for he has opened his heart to me. This is something that I value more than all the Sonnets in the world. I have lead a life of celibracy and self-induced isolation for more than 2 years in the fear that I will lose me, my integrety, and my persona. But can one live on their own with their cats/dogs for the rest of their lives? Can I go without creating more memories, either good or bad, till the day that I die?

Do I want my last breath on this planet to be filled with regrets of the memories that I have not made? Good or bad? Will I be able to leave my existance knowing that I could have done something about it and changed the course of my life?

I want to make mistakes -- all the mistakes that I can. I want to fall in love with the wrong person, I want to escape on the most mind altering drugs possible, I want to have a holiday home where I can lounge around and not think about anything, I want to have sex with a woman just to see what it is like to fall in love with a woman, I want to go bunjee jumping knowing that there is a risk of dying in the process, I want to travel the silk road on a stubborn donkey that won't listen to my directions, I want to visit the MachuPichu and get altitutde sickness, I want to climb Everest and clear up all the rubbish that people left up there, I want to go to Mysore to be taught Yoga by Patabi Joyce, I want to go diving in the great barrier reef, I want to go and see the Komodo Dragons, I want to sail across the globe on a little raft with only a fishing line and dried lemon, I want to see the great wall of china from space, but most of all I want to wake up next to Nick on a sunday morning to stroke his hair and say, "Good morning, hun, would you like some coffee" only to turn around and make love to him...

I want to make these happy memories, not the smelly shampoo that I will never touch.

How many shampoos, like me, do you have no courage to touch?

Facials, Writers' Block, And A Piece Of Paper

2005-03-12T22:45:00.000+09:00

Today I went to Boudoir for a facial and for some "maintenance" which I have been doing on a monthly basis for the past 7 years. After my treatment I had some galettes at Le Bretagne, in Omotesando, and had my combination of pancakes and camomile tea al fresco. I think that today was the first time in ages that I had some time to myself to think about the many things that have been happening in my life. As some of you know, I handed my resignation in to the Pink Elephant the day before my 10day holiday in Thailand. I will be taking up a new post with the Baby Extract manufacturers from the middle of April, which gives me nearly one month of no work/freedom.

So why I am not rejoicing and writing every day? Why am I stuck each day in front of the PC writing drafts after drafts of empty words?

Why?

The reason, I suppose stems from a very important path that I have decided to take in my life. All is emcompassed in a piece of paper that puts me on board a 12hr flight to meet someone special in my life. As the day draws near my mind is full of excitement and also of some fear... and I cannot concentrate on anything right now. I have much to write, and even more to research, and yet I look at my passport and my flight voucher every day and imagine what it would be to be on that flight on the 19th, to meet someone that has become so much a part of my life that I cannot even sit down with my own thoughts. With my galettes and my camomile tea in peace.

I suppose the other party also feels the same way too, and I know that he will read this post and will agree with me that the source of my drought may due to me thinking too much of him. But is there such thing as thinking too much of a person one cares about? If there is, I am guilty of that crime; but I have my moments to myself where I can reflect upon many things that I see and feel. My inner thoughts will never betray me, I guess, even though I have moments of distraction once in a while.

Out Of Blogg Reply Do Not Disturb -- Yet... I have an RFI For Serious Readers

2005-03-09T19:40:00.000+09:00

It has now been over a week since I came back from my holiday in Thailand, but my mind is still in holiday mode. WTF?! I am quitting my job, and now I find out that my big-boss is also leaving the company so no one is doing anything much in the office this month. Does that give me an excuse to be unmotivated? Hell yeah! If someone told you, "listen, I want you to sit in the office for the next 2 or 3 weeks, min. 30mins/day in the office, and we will make sure we pay you your full pay cheque" would you put in more than 31 hours per day? And how productive do you think you would be?

Today I was helping out a colleague who was consulting a company that makes crisps/potato chips. The fellow consultant was unsure about how they managed to pack crisps without it breaking up during transport. Surely they must be crushed, and who checks the quality, DWR??

A: Nitrogen Flushing

These words I use casually coz I know that in any bag of crisps/chips there is either a combination of only nitrogen and/or CO2 to eliminate oxidation of the contents. But how? How do the food processing/packaging companies put only nitrogen in the bags? OK so it's probably fully automated, but from which process onwards, and who the fuck checks the quality of the out put i.e. are we sure it's only Nitrogen in there???

Many questions, but not enuf answers.... if anyone is familiar with the food preservative/packing process, please enlighten me before I lose anymore sleep!
With great appreciation, DWR

Turning Back The Clocks...

2005-03-04T03:00:00.000+09:00

I am back from my holidays now. I am missing all the posts and photos from Day 5 to Day 11 of my holiday: Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation. It is now 3am, and I am only 14% finished with the sorting of my holiday pics.

I have been to paradise only to come back to hell and stress. Do I wind myself up over irrelevant shite?? Probably... probably.

On a different note, I am reading Paulo Coelho's The Devil And Miss Prym right now. Many of the die hard Coelho fans gave it a poor review, but I am going to finish it before I make my own mind up about it. I like his concept of working on the idea of good and evil in man, and to explore the workings of the human mind in the realm of temptation.

If you were approached by darkness and offered something that you have been longing for, would you take it knowing that it may be evil? Or would you chose good over anything else? Or worse still, let fate make your choices and do nothing about it?

These are tough questions that I have no answers for... I wonder if Paulo Coelho has one.

I doubt it...

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day6

2005-02-26T01:02:00.000+09:00

Koh Phi, Ghost Iamd

Koh Phi means the island of may ancestoral spirit. Many believe that there were executions being carried out during the Second War. I have also heard of many elderly when they have no contributions to the local economy being sent to Koh Phi to spend their last days, away from their loved ones. Most of the locals will go nowhere near the island especially at night. There are no inhabitants apart from the lost souls of those that have burning passion, something to say to the living. Today I dove the seas of the Ghost island to hear the messages of the dead; I saw many creatures that crossed into the path of my torch as I dove 20m, if that. The visibility is too low. Perhaps those from the past do not have a message for me, for they have clouded my vision all through my night dive on Koh Phi. The ancestors have a message for others I think, but they keep reminding divers like myself that they do have a message.

A message for the living.

The sunset on Koh Phi will continue to shine as in the picture I took until all its messages are heard, I am sure. Unfortunately the message is not for me, but for their lost decendants who have left the islands and pursued a life life in the big cities. The spirits of Koh Phi miss their loved ones.... not occational visitors like me.

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day5 (Pictures)

2005-02-24T15:39:00.000+09:00

Deck Chair In Paradise

This was a photo taken from my sea-side view bunglalow just before midday. The beaches are empty, and no one is in the sea. What a wonderful site to view from your verandah, heh? So who's up for visiting Koh Maak with the DWR the next time she goes on holiday???

Aaahhh..... do you now see why blogging took a back seat for a while there?

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day5

2005-02-23T22:53:00.000+09:00

(Warning, I have only notes and my memory, vivid or not, to guide me thru the envents of this day. Sorry.)

Time unknown, but defo very early. This morning I was woken up by the happy-go-lucky photons that were playing Cricket on my eyelids at 5:25am. This is an unholy hour for those that get up at 7:30 to 8am during our suit days, not holidays. As soon as I opened my eyelids I realised that they were the only muscules that I had any control over. I could not move my body, for it ached and felt like there was a boulder strapped to limb.

Before my 7:30am torture session at the Shala, I was sensible enough to seek and to locate a slight, Thai lady with the words "Thai Massage" above her seat in the Gazeboe. (Look, the massage lady!!!) I hobbled over to her and asked her to make me an appointment today.

Can Lah, 12:30 OK? Lah?

BRILLIANT! I need to be pulverised and contorted (oops, I do that in yoga!) by a professional Thai Massage lady who is half my size. I cannot wait!

The morning practise went reasonably well; everyone from the Shala, after we finished, were squeeling in the clear blue seas, and the white sandy beaches. This place has beautifully maintained infrastructure, and are really into eco-tourism so everthing to the east of the resort, where our bungalows are located, is remote, and idylic.

Warrior Pose 2 At The Shala

Unlike my fellow yogis I ran straight into the shower, got into my clean clothes, and RAN to the Thai massage lady... and for 2 hours after that I had turned into putty by a woman who is probably 1/2 my size, but has the strength of 3 oxen. Deep tissue massage when doing excessive excersise just increases the rate of recovery. All the lactic acid in the world would not expel itself from the human body unless aided by a smiling, slight, feminine, warm, Thai massage lady. Dear readers, if you have never had a good proper Thai massage, and you need one, I will suggest 1) Wat Po Thai Massage Teaching School, 2) TMI teaching school in Cheng Mai, 3) Thai Massage on Koh Maak 4) Thai Massage at Kata Beach Resort(in that order). Try to avoid any massage palors that hire men in thick makeup who try to sign language you the menu, and graphically show you the services they offer. "Yes, we have for you, goo massa, por you, sexy, sexy, me love you long time 5 dala fuki, fuki" will not relieve you of sports injuries. (Just a heads up.)

I think I will visit the massage lady every day during my visit to this island. All these treatments cost less than US$5 for a 1.5 hr session, and she just does a wonderful job for anyone who needs CTRL+ALT+DELETE on a hard day at the Shala.

Wow! I never thought I would say those words today "hard day at the Shala??"

How can a day at the shala possibly be hard?!? Ohhh, I think that it is the tropical breeze and the spicy aroma of the rice being cooked that is going to my head. And with that, I am going to drink a bottle of mineral water -- Cheerz!

Mr Bean The Yogi

2005-02-22T23:59:00.000+09:00

Prezel Pose

This was the yoga position that I managed to achieve on day 4 of my holiday. I am sure that there is a proper sanskrit name like Garba Pindh Asana, or something, but it is easy to remember it as the pretzel position to remember the flow of the primary series.

So why are my pictures not in my writing? "Hello" playing up again.... sorry

(on a smaller note, this is a picture of the grandson of Shri K. Patabi Joice, the Guru of Ashtanga Yoga -- don't you think he looks like Mr Bean???)

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 4

2005-02-22T22:30:00.000+09:00

9:44am: Once again I am sitting at one of the tables on the pier. The warm wind coming off the ocean is gently tickling my sun-kissed arms and cooling my warm bare feet. By my side are my two new writing companions -- a Dalmation and a brown puppy with short legs, and standing ears. The puppy, a local breed, is playful, and has not stopped following me since I made the fatal mistake of sharing my "Yam Chips" with him. I have never owned a dog in my adult life so I guess you can call me a "puppy novice" -- remind me, dear readers, to 1) never feed him again, and 2) never look at his eyes even if I accidentally forget 1). He is very sweet, but I don't think that he's supposed to eat yam chips. I hope they do not block his system up and cause him some harm. Oops.

Our daily practise started at 7:30am and lasted to about 9:35am. We did the full Primary Series of Asthanga Yoga which I had never completed before. I was helped by my yoga teacher to contort myself into a pretzel shape, to rock around 360 degrees, and to balance upright on my butt in this position. (I will post you the photos later -- you will laugh!) If my teacher was not there I would have either fallen flat on my face, or fallen back, stuck, unable to get up like a tortoise on its shell! Standing upright looks silly enough, but being stuck... well, I don't even want to go there.

After our practise we had some free time before breakfast. Outside our "Shala", where we do our yoga, there is a beautiful, hexagonal wooden deck that overlooks the sea. A-K and A-M found the morning ocean's invitation a bit too tempting that they lept into the water in their yoga wear! They were running, jumping, splashing with joy while the rest of us, although very exhausted laughed at the two of them. I think we all felt that small sense of joy in accomplishing something today.

After my breakfast I decided to take a walk on the island to look around, and to take some photos. We get a lot of free time in the afternoons until our meditation session and technique classes. Today we learned how to suck our tummies in (Uluyana Bunda) and wiggle the stomach musles around -- I know it sounds silly, but it really isn't. (looks fun tho!) I have been doing Asthanga Yoga since August last year, but I still can't get this technique right. I will have to work a bit more on it, I guess.

All in all today was a hard, but fun day. Tomorrow will be even harder coz we will all be aching -- I know. On a closing note, I will not be visiting Mr. and Mrs. Benzodiazepine to help me sleep tonight, for Mr. Sandman brought me a bag of sweet dreams together with the warm sea breeze.

Good Night.

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 3

2005-02-21T23:45:00.000+09:00

10:46 pm: I am relaxed now. It's been a long day. I was hoping that today's journey to the island would be uneventful unlike the two other days that exposed me to high adrenalin levels that should *not* have been part of a yoga retreat on a tropical island with white, sandy beaches.

The day started off just like any other morning would for a beautiful, asian lady, like me, with large tits, wearing a t-shirt that says "Sugar", staying at a swanky hotel in downtown Bangkok. I took myself to the buffet breakfast area only to be greeted by every Western man who didn't come with their wives, or their girlfriends. "Well, Good Morning"s with their lustful eyes stroking my breasts.... Pathetic beings; do they thing that I don't know what is going thru their dirty minds? Its not good morning that I hear, its "Nice tits, Babe." And I bet I am right on 9 counts out of 10. If only my Honey was with me -- he would put those creepy, overweight slobs in their right places.

Their Kennels.

The chartered minibus and my fellow yoga retreat participants, R, A-K, A-M, and M met us outside the hotel lobby. There were 6 of us: Dan, R, A-K, A-M, M, and me. The seventh person, Y who is my room mate for the duration of the retreat, was to meet us at the ferry terminal at Laem Ngop. And so our journey to the island of Koh Maak just in eastern Thailand, just off the coast of Cambodia began.

The minibus lelft promptly at 11am-ish, just according to our schedule to leave at 10:30am. I suppose we are on holiday so there is no rush, apart from the fact that we need to catch the only afternoon speedboat which left at 5pm; we hit peaktime traffic in central Bangkok, but soon we were on the highway with not much to look at apart from rows upon rows of rubber tree plantations. The journey was quite uneventful; most people fell asleep apart from me, for I was disturbed by the loud Thai music the driver was playing. Thai pop music sounds like a cross between those tunes you hear at your local Chinese store, and Bollywood theme songs. Oh and a sprinkle of Eurotrash from the early 90s. At 98DBs this is enuf to keep me pissed off for a while.

We stopped at a roadside cafe for lunch to eat some spicy, Thai-style "something-that-you-point-at-and-nod" with rice. We arrived at the pier one hour before the speed boat was scheduled to leave. Considering that we left slightly late, we got stuck in traffic, but we stuck to the speed limit (a rarity for any Thai driver), we did fine.

So far so good. What can go wrong. The boat looks in pristine condition, our luggage all loaded -- a bit crowded -- yes, but nonetheless we can all fit into without sinking the boat. The airport is at least 30mins drive from here. The probability of crazy shop assistants, and drunk businessmen ruining my holiday is remote. At least 30mins drive remote. What can possibly go wrong.

Well. The my room mate Y has not shown up. She is flying in from Koh Samui to that bloody 30min-drive airport....

Grrrrr!

(*On this journey/holiday I am haunted by episodes related to airports, what is it!!!*)

Luckily there were more people who wanted to get to Koh Maak than expected so they brought out a second speed boat to even the load. My room mate in the meantime was on her way to the pier; her flight had been delayed at Koh Samui. She eventually managed to get to us looking even more stressed than I have been for the past two days. Poor thing. I hope she can chill out.

It is now nearly day 4. I am sitting on the wooden pier on the island of Koh Maak looking up at the stars drinking my "Virgin" cocktail. The soft waves gently brushing the sandy beaches is my music right now. Everyone has gone to sleep so I am on my own. With my own thoughts. There is so much peace here.

Now I feel truely relaxed.

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 2

2005-02-20T23:59:00.000+09:00

8:13am: Yeah so I was wasted last night with my HK version of the drunken wench friends: J, E, and S. I'd like to think/say that it was the first time in ages, but I am going to give you, dear readers, the raw story. I got wasted because its the last time I will probably be getting any booze for the next 9 days. I am going to be on a vegitarian yoga retreat with my yoga teacher Dan. I'm fucking lucky that I am not going on one of those "hose up your arse" yoga retreats, for I have heard many trippy stories about them. I'm very happy that I am not going to the "Octupus's Garden In The Shade" where I am gazing at "Marmalade Trees With Looking Glass Eyes" with my friend "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" learning yoga from "The Fool On The Hill"... if you know what I mean.

Shit! I wonder how my body will take the detox!!!!!

I woke up this morning to J's two little dogs that were whining. I thought they were hungry (just like the cats back home when they meow incessantly when their bowl is empty), but it seemed that only wanted attention. They wanted to play. At 11 and 9 years old TinTin and Fritzy were really excited to see me at this unhuman hour.

Me. TinTin. Fritzy. No J. And no Mr. and Mrs C. (yet).

I played with the dogs for a while; they seemed to like the "sit, stay, gooddoggy!!" game. They can go for hours!! I suppose dogs are very unlike cats; Belle and George constantly request a different version of "moving stringy"...

Oh, I miss Belle and George.

Oh yes. I forgot the Wench Mum!! I wonder if she is missing me?

6:08pm: Phew! That was an ordeal! Shit I am still shaking from the experience of nearly having missed my flight coz I thought that someone was going to die! Fuck!!!! Ok, lets take a step back and I will tell you the entire story, but let me first order a Bloody Mary to calm my nerves. What is it with airports and the DWR? Why is it that I have for two days in a row had some *event* at the airport that is worthy of a mention?

WTF? All I wanted was a holiday, none of this shit!!!

So. Unlike my usual self I am *not* running fashionably late for my flight from Hong Kong to Bankok. I checked all my luggage in at Central Station by 2:30pm; my friend, R, offered me a ride to the spa so that I could have some last minute "alterations" just like bridesmaids that have had one too many Guinesses in the past few weeks/months leading up to the wedding.

I was sitting by the airport internal shuttle stop when an old, oriental gentleman walks off the escalator, trips, spins around, and falls flat on the hard marble floor hitting his head really hard!!

Just like that.

My mind just suddenly went on autopilot, and before I knew it I was speaking to the people around me to watch his vital signs, "Can someone ask him if he is OK. I don't speak cantonese. I will call for help!!", and with that I was running to the nearest emergency phone giving the airport security staff details of where we were, what had happened, and how he was doing. (Luckily, no blood, in and out of consiousness, at the bottom of the entrance for Shuttle to gates 33 - 80).

The old man was speaking Cantonese to the 7 people who had enough sense to make sure that he was OK, and that he kept his eyes open till security came to see if he was OK. FUUUUUUCK!! I was on the line to security to give a realtime update of the man's situation. Luckily by the time that they arrived the old man was able to stand up, only to sit back down on the nearest chair banging his head on the wall behind him. *ouch, that must have hurt*

It turns out that this man (who had a cut on his nose, another recent injury according to him) was a 64 year old, Japanese businessman, who probably had spent half his life in a constant state of alcohol intoxication. He had been propping up the bar (again), realised that his flight was about to take off without him, and rushed to the terminal only to fall over in front of me. By which time I myself was running VERY fashionably late because this old Japanese geezer decided to fake a heart attack in front of me.

Great. Fucking great.

Why is it that my fellow countrymen HAUNT me with the stupidity even when I am on holiday when I am abroad? I thought I escaped the Chunder Trains, and the loud, Karaoke-microphone weilding "businessmen"? This is appauling!!! I just cannot wait for the next Bloody Mary, and the warm, welcoming greetings from the Thai people. Oh wait, I still have to endure the rip-off merchants who claim to be taxi drivers, asking for stupidly rediculous prices for a ride to my hotel.

Great. Fucking great.

11:00pm (or there abouts): I am in Bangkok now. The cabbie *did* try to rip us off as I had expected, and ran for about 5 mins without turning the meter on. "Oh, I take you 350baht, meter service charge 50baht."

No. Fuck off. It does not cost 400baht to get to central Bangkok, now put the metre on. YES?

In the end it cost us only 149bahts to get to our destination. Why am I haunted by silliness. I just hope that things improve from tomorrow. The weather is nice though. That is a consolation. Now I am off to do other things... like chill out?!

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day 1

2005-02-20T04:15:00.000+09:00

(Oh dear... I don't even call my holidays my "Vacation", but what the hell.... My honey and I chose it together, so here we go. Oh and appologies for an incomprehensive post to all who saw my site yesterday. I came back after a heavy night with my friends and hit the "POST" button instead of "SAVE DRAFT". Jeezus I was wasted last night... Fuck! Just look at the time that I posted!!!! Fucking wasted I must have been.)

6:58am: It is snowing in Tokyo right now, and I'm sitting in the bus on my way to the airport. The lady at the counter at the ticket office is telling me that it will take 2 hours to get to the airport today. Great. Fucking great. I left the house at 6am -- didn't sleep coz I was chatting online with my Honey -- and now they are telling me that I may be running late (again) because of the snow. It's my first holiday in a YEAR and I could potentially miss the flight.

Wonderful.

*SLEEP* + 1.5 hours later, I am at the airport.

9:25am: Managed to make it on time -- phew. I am sitting at the airport lounge/restaurant area eating Caeser salad and toast for breakfast after having had a huge arguement with a shop assistant when I went to buy sake for my friend J who I will be staying with when I stop over in Hong Kong for one day. The stupid bitch charged my credit card for two bottles instead of one! When I politely pointed pointed out that I waned only one bottle, not two, she just got all pissie with me, telling me that she chated for two coz I *asked* for two. (No, I didn't. I brought one bottle to the counter, love. Just one bottle. You were the one who brought out the second bottle, not me. I thought you were going to get me a nicer, not so dusty bottle coz I asked for it to be gift-wrapped.) I'm sorry, but by no stretch of the imagination can the words "can you wrap that coz it's a present. Can you make sure you remove the price tag off, please." sound anything remotely like "oh, yes, I would like two of your fine bottles of expensive sake, even though I am holding one bottle in my hand." in any language that I speak. After she reprocessed my transaction I said to her in my most calm, deep, and slow tone: excuse me, is it not polite to appologise for mistaking the transation instead of sitting there being rude to your customer. First things first, appologise, reprossess the transaction, and tell me that you have fixed the mistake. This is what customer service is all about.

She didn't listen to me and started to be on the defensive, so I got pissie with her. Serves her right for fucking up the first few hours of my long awaited holiday. Narita airport is a "Private Company", so unless they shape up and improve their services to the "CLIENTS" I'm taking my money elsewhere. And why the fuck are prices inflated at airports anyway? I just paid 1,025 yen for a small caeser salad and two peices of bread. In a country where 60% of our food is IMPORTED. I'm sure that they can keep the cost down for a salad!! I mean, perishable goods like a lettuce *must* be flown in. I can't possibly imagine lettuce being shipped from China by sea. I'm at an airport that is the hub for overseas cargo. So theoretically the "cost" of the lettuce that arrived at the cargo section of this stupid soooo out of the way airport must be minus the "logistics costs" of a lettuce I can buy in central Tokyo.

So why am I paying double the price for half the size?

And why am I exposed to silliness and stupidity when I am on my holiday. I am put thru this at WORK!! I am no longer sitting next to the UEPEs; I'm on holiday. Can someone remove the "work" elements from my holiday?

Please? Pretty Please?

No More Pink Elephants! It's Holiday Time For Me!!!!

2005-02-19T05:40:00.000+09:00

So. Many of you know that I work for the Pink Elephant, right? Well I finally got that offer from the company that I have been interviewing for a while; and now I am getting ready for my yoga retreat/diving holiday in Thailand. (My favourite, favourite holiday destniation!).

Today, to celebrate my new offer, I was drinking with the drunken wench friends who so kindly reminded me about the "holiday title" competition that I had put up on the blog a while ago.... back on Feb 6th actually.

I contacted my co-judge and we sat around for a while till we came into agreement of a title for my holiday blog. And here were the runners up (in no particular order):

Death to the Pink Elephant
I'm a Drunk Wench... and I'm Still Better Than You
Causing Traumas in Thailand
Sunbathing Scandals
Holidaying Hos
Perpetuial Bliss

But the final judgment went on: "Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation."

Thank you "o" for the for the title. My honey and I decided that this is the best one of them all -- considering that I am one of those "irritated people" at times. But thank you all of you for handing in your submissions, I really appreacate your efforts!!!

Right, need to pack my bags in 15mins before the taxi turns up!!!

80's Toys

2005-02-18T11:39:00.000+09:00

Now as a wench with permanent residency in the independant state of "Da Gutter" when I first read the Title on Summer's blog, I was thinking: "Oh what was different about the sex toys in the 80s compared to today?" only to realise that she was talking about some quiz that you can take to find out what kind of 80s "KIDDYS" Toys your personality fits.

So what toy am I? An Etch-a-Sketcher...

You're an Etch-a-Sketch!! You're the creative,
artsy type who doesn't need to actually utilize a single muscle group in order to have fun.
Doesn't matter though, you're still cool.

What childhood toy from the 80s are you?

Well, I suppose it has me summarised in 4 lines. I am not a doll, nor am I an action man. Nothing personified -- just an inamimate object. I'm quite surprised that they didn't come up with the Rubiks Cube, Space Invaders, or Cluedo.

(Post script: Thank you Summer, my twin across the pacific, I love these funny quizzes that you find! They are fantastic!!! DWR)

Wheelchair Warriors: Shall I Stop At Being A Messanger?

2005-02-16T19:24:00.000+09:00

Today the temperature in Tokyo was no more than 6degrees Celcius according to the weather reports. I know not to trust people too much so I am going to tell you, dear readers, how it felt. All the bones in my digets and metacarpals - left and right - were in pain. My cheeks had lost sensation and my pen was not working, the ink probably was too viscous to make an appearance on my paper because of the cold, and it was raining/snowing. But warriors are warriors. Whether they are sitting in an expensive, 300pound electric wheelchair, or dorning the cheapest fake Nikes in their silicone legs, they were out there in force yesterday and today. I had only a small glimps of their overnight protests, but the 30 minutes or so I spent was enough for me. I feel ashamed that I do not have the energy and the vigor to fight for their cause alongside them.

The Wheelchair Warriors are stronger than the DWR.

Of course they are; they have had more barriers and stigmatism than me, a "haafu". I only get looked upon as weird, the WCWs have in addition to that a physical obstacle on top of the stares. They get experimented upon, charged through their noses for basic human rights like "the right to freedom", and now they have to sit in the cold rain to be heard....

I want to help the WCWs as much as those who were kind enough to make a comment about their plight, but the opposing poweres are just too overwhelming: I am not strong. However, I have allies, and with the power of the masses and the media in Japan we may be able to move that boulder, to pave a way so that the Wheelchair warriors can march on without any barriers in their way.

I have an acquaintance in the media industry, and I have passed the batton onto her to cover the story. She works for one of the major terrestrial TV stations in Japan.... she took an interest in the Warriors and has been interviewing them the couple of weeks. I hope that what she produces can reach out to a wider audience than me.

C, I pray for your success. I know you are bound by sponsers, producers, et. al, but just as we spoke today about the WCWs we feel the same way about what is going on in our world. You and I are "haafu"s we have only one foot in this madness. Let us make sure that we keep the other foot rooted on solid ground. Just as Onoue san has his wheels firmly fixed in front of the ministry.

In the pouring rain.

You're My Lady, Brown Sugar

2005-02-16T18:16:00.000+09:00

No it's OK, I have not turned into a lesbian, or a bi-girl. I have not started to date a beautiful, Sub-Saharan Rose, or someone of that heritage -- sorry gals/boys, perhaps in the next life time. I'm not good at muti-tasking. Sorry! (But if you are interested - boys'n'gals - I know several beautiful, black beauties, who I can never, ever match, who are more than happy to look at your resume's if they have the time.... I think. They are high class and picky, but I can always try asking them.)

No. "You're My Lady" is the title of the song that I am listening to right now. It is from D'Angello's first album "Brown Sugar" (which I *think* I am, but I am neither as gospel, nor smooth as he claims his "brown sugar" to be. Nonetheless a good singer, and mellow tunes, just gets me going -- WOOF!).

Ok, so I have been writing too much of my personal stuff lately: 1) my honey's valentine's floweres, 2) the "Love Bird" that is sitting on my shoulders whispering sweet sonnets into my ears. (Even if it shits on my ego right now, I'd still have a *grin* on my face. Sorry, I am goofy!!!) 3) The "Get Da Fucky Out Off Da Payroll Of Da Pink Elephant That Bought Our Company Out In A Strategic Alliance (cough, cough) ". The plan has gone soooo well to the point that I am going quit this week before my holiday in paradise (HA!), 4) Da Wench-Mum is out of my way (the absence of wench-mum posts is always a good sign) 5) The Drunken Wench Friends are on form again (they are always positive) and 6) Umm.... my honey?! (Hey, don't knock my long distance relationship with my hun, OK? It's been over 2+ years since I have been in LUURVE, right? U Don't like it? Well sod off!! My man is good to me -- even if he is 13hrs away)

Why am I writing crap?

Weeeeeell. I have no good excuse, but let me introduce to you the stories about the Wheelchair Warriors, just so that you know that I am not completely lazy....

Honest. I promise!

(Now off to my research into Lock, Stock, and... um Martin?! Upcoming serious post on politics and aviation....)

Out of Office Reply: Suit Back In Wardrobe

2005-02-15T18:06:00.000+09:00

I am so unmotivated today. I can't be arsed to do any work. I have less than a week before my holiday in Thailand, and I have not had the chance to go and see the Wheelchair Warriors yet. My Big Boss (1) gave me grief about today's presentation with the client, and I am sitting here thinking "WTF! I am going to leave this company in a few weeks (hopefully). Can't be bothered to listen to the likes of you. I don't want to sit next to the UEPEs anymore; they are draining my energy like venus flytraps when they dissolve their prey...."

DWR (Suit Version) Out of Office Reply:
Thank you for emailing me. I am out of the office until... well, whenever I feel like it. You guys don't challenge me, you make me sit next to entities that are somewhere below kittie litter on the evolution ladder, and there is something funny in the air, coz I am getting puffy eyes again. And don't even THINK about bothering me in the meantime! Oh, and have a nice fucking day, UEPEs!

I will be back in the office on monday, one of these days, to hand in my resignation, ya *peeeeeeeeeeep*!

(Post script: all you good boys and girls, please ignore this woman's ramblings about how boring her day was. The DWR will be up and early, cheery as fuck, blogging her pink fluffy self away!!

No Nutts, I will not. Grrrr! stop lying on behalf of me, you horrid wench!!!)

Lobotomised

2005-02-14T16:54:00.000+09:00

Never in my proffessional life have I worked in a more DULL place than the "semi-cubicle" area in my old-old office building. My section, which comprises Big Boss 1, Big Boss 2, and Lil'ole Me, has been scattered like a supernova across the universe. *splat* Big Boss 1 has her own office. Big Boss 2 has his "Communal Bossoffice", and I am lumbered in the "Hotelling" area in my "Easy Recliner" sitting next to people who I assume work for the same company.

As I sit here contemplating silly things like whether "Wormholes will surpass Portals" and make sense for future health plans, especially if portal maturity is low, I realised that there is something wrong with me. My brain is not functioning properly -- it is almost as if I am on Benzodiazepines and Coffee, while I snort Prozac thu my ears.... Why?

I am surrounded by crazy people!!!!!!! AAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

I am sitting next to people who send emails to their colleagues sitting OPPOSITE them, or even if they DO converse, they speak only in 3 letter acronyms. "Hey the PDI, and ERP are WTF'd. Can you KAT the PDA now?" The woman sitting opposite my divider has just received a call on her MOBILE from her colleague sitting two dividers down!! (try using the office phone, love, it's right there in front of you! Better still -- walk to your mate to talk to her!!!)

This is not right. I need to be moved to a different area. These crazy people are tapping their feet to music they cannot hear (maybe they can hear mine! shit!), and thru-out the day they keep looking over towards me... I wonder why? Am I paranoid? Do I need more drugs? Have they never seen a valentine's bouquet before? (yes, my honey sent me flowers to my office.) What is WRONG with these people??? Have they never seen flowers before? DO NOT EAT MY FLOWERS!!! NOT FOOD!!!

*breath, breath, breath*

If I sit here any longer, I would be lobotomised by zombie-rays emitted by the "unknown" employees of the Pink Elephant (UEPE). Maybe it's time for me to go upstairs and find the drunken wench friends. They are the only sane ones here! (Plus I want to show them my flowers -- tee hee!)

(Post script: as someone who has majored in two biomedical sciences, it gives me a perfect opportunity to examine the habits of the UEPEs. I have a client meeting tomorrow morning, but apart from that I am on my own again surrounded by these headcases, I mean, specimens. So far today I have identified 7 UEPEs that sit by me, exhibiting behaviour that can only be induced by atrophy in the hippocampus. I have also seen at least two that exhibit neurodegeneration in the basal ganglia. Perhaps I am on the verge of a break-thru in medical science! I may finish that PhD in neuropathology afterall!!! Or there again, maybe not...)

Wheel Chair Warriors -- RFP

2005-02-13T08:28:00.000+09:00

In the world of consulting RFP stands for "Request For Proposal". Today I am using the three letter acronym to mean Request For Participation. I'm not sure if many of you remember the Wheel Chair Warriors who were protesting outside the Ministry of Health, Labour, and Welfare (aka. Ministry of Wealth Through Increased Labour and Cuts in Healthcare) back in December; I received an email from one of the organisers of the protest who I passed my business card to when I interviewed Onoue san from DPI. She informed me that they will be staging an overnight protest, because the Diet (Parliament) is about to pass a law that would in effect send a large number of people with disabilities back to the "institutions" by removing their freedom that they have today.

They are going to be staging an overnight protest outside the Ministry on Feb 15th and 16th. I don't know if any of you have sat in a cold chair all night, not being able to stand up and move about in mid winter. This is what the Wheel Chair Warriors will be doing; it takes people like Onoue san to sit in protest before they even get noticed. The local media have not really taken much notice of what has been happening so I contacted an acquaintance in the industry to see if she was interested in following their story. I spoke to her yesterday; she was up for it, so let's see how things turn out.

As for me, I will be sober, hopefully without a cold, out there on both the days getting a feel for what is happenining. I know Onoue san will be very busy so I will not ask for an interview this time. I mean, they are "Warriors", but I do not see them lobbing Motolov Coctails, or anything like that, but I know that the police can be heavy handed even towards people who are sitting in an electric wheelchare that weighs over 300kgs (660pounds). The last time they were protesting the metropolitan police deployed at least 4 armoured vans full of policemen in riot gear. Four armoured vehicles for 2000 people, some of whom cannot even turn their heads, or breath air through their mouths. Do the maths? Just picture what I saw back in December, and it's about to happen again next week.

I wonder how much of my tax money has gone into this charade -- police in riot gear after people who are wheelchair bound?? And I wonder how many disabled people in Japan are going to be institutionalised, hidden away from the public eye after all they have done to make progress that matches the West when it comes to protecting the rights of people with disabilities.

I wonder....

I Curse Thee, A, For Giving Me Your Virus!!!

2005-02-13T04:35:00.000+09:00

It is 4am on sunday morning, and I am awake, pissed off, for this is the hour of "evil" as any asthmatic knows. I "Coughed" myself from my breathless sleep; had I not I'm sure there would be a eulogy in tomorrow's Obiturary section of the Japan Times. I had an asthma attack at around 4am -- a time most asthmatics, on auto-pilot, reach out for their "puffa's" to catch their breath before the grim reaper takes it from us. And why am I having asthma attacks when I am supposedly "healthy"?

Because I have a cold.

On wednesday I met up with A, one of the Drunken Wench Friends. He was as sick as a drenched kitten that has fallen into an open drain in a "not-so-developed" country. He had come to see me on the 8F to pick up a PHS card that I had passed onto me by Y, who was also sick that day. While A was there, I asked him to baby-sit my PC coz my boss wanted to talk to me in his "communal office" -- to cut a long story short, I got some unknown virus from a man who travels extensively within the East Asia region. I know I washed my hands and wet-wiped the PC when I returned but obviously that was not enuf. Reflecting on the last book I read about Japan's wartime biological weapons development program, which was based in Manchuria, I am not too confident that this is the common cold. If I have the pneumonic plague from A, I will personally CURSE that man, plus the Japanese Ministry of Wealth Thru Cuts In Healtcare (who I am sure are the ones who were the in charge of Unit 731 during the war) for my poor health.

Grrr. We had a public holiday on the 11th. I was looking forward to going to my yoga class and eating Gallettes, and go see my friends L, and S. But what am I doing while A has FUCKED OFF to Korea to go and see his woman (i.e. get laid) while I baby-sit his "unknown" virus.

A!!!! I asked you to baby sit my PC, and now you are making me baby-sit your virus while you are humping 3 days in a row!!! I'm gonna curse you so your dick falls off!! You come back and make me some nice Chinese hot soup -- Shanghai style -- with the nice fluffy egg whites, and good chicken stock. I want "Pai-Tan" stock made from scratch! I want good shit, no MSG, for I am in PAAAIIIIN!!! My Chest HURTS!

Oh well, I suppose I am going to be OK coz I have enuf energy to get pissed off. Not even unknown biological weapons can keep this wench quiet. And now back to my hot Shochu and Ginger tea.

I'm Late, I'm Late, I'm Very, Very, Late!!!

2005-02-11T12:53:00.000+09:00

Yes, I am late. I am always running late. And now I am late with all my writing and postings. Why? Weeeeeeell. Some of you already know that I work for a Pink Elephant, and that does not really agree with me, so I have been interviewing with a company that makes baby powder and cotton buds. They seem to like me (which is a good thing) and want to hire me, but it also has taken much time away from me.

I also have someone special in my life -- my boyfriend, N, who has me all googly and goofy, and I love him very much. Time? Distance? None of these things hamper my relationship with my boyfriend. Coz you see, I bought something totally jazzy and funky -- DA WEB CAM!!! Can you believe that this wench sits in her pyjamas talking to her man at 1am? Oh if only I could take my WebCam to my Semi-cubicle so that I can talk to him on company time. (Yes, I cannot be ARSED to do any work these days, coz I know my days are numbered. Oh shit, I have to write my resignation letter this afternoon! I told the BabyPowder makers that they better give me their letter of offer before I go off on my fannnnnnnttttastic holiday in Thailand.)

DWR Strategy for "Operation Quit Working for Pink Elephant":
Get offer from BabyPowderMakers, Sign on the Dotted Line, Hand in Resignation, Fuck off on Holiday, Come Back From Holiday, Buy Ticket, Go Visit My Boyfriend, N, Get Laid Senseless, Start New Job With PHAT Paycheque, Smile, Take DWF Out for Drinks, Get Drunk, And More Drunk.

And blog about it.

So yes, I have been a tad busy of late. Many, many things going on, and I just don't have enuf time to do all the things that I want!!! If anyone has any good tips on how to juggle everything -- but N is top priority, no compromise on that from the DWR -- I would be grateful if you can let me know.

Shit, am I crazy? Have I lost my mind? DWR is in love? Out of control this woman is... out of control.

And once again, I'm running late for my next appointment!!!

My New Office and My Semi-Cubicle

2005-02-08T17:03:00.000+09:00

Oh joyous happiness! Yes I did pull that sicky on monday so today is my first day back at the "New" office. I was on the same floor, on the same side of this fucking building nearly 2 years ago before I got shipped off to Hong Kong for 8 months. And now I am back in the same place again. What is wrong with my company? Huh? All these painful "moves" from one building to another! My experience of having my upper wisdom teeth extracted was a holiday in Club Med compared to the boot-camp "move your own shit AND the department archives yourself once a year" bullshit they keep imposing on us. I have worked for this company for nearly 5 years, and I know the score. Moving day? Runny tummy. No one wants to know about your liquid faeces in detail so they just say:"Um, yes, hope you feel better. Don't come into the office, um, for a while. Hope you get better soon, um. Yes."

And they hang up, only to run to the bathroom to wash their hands just in case my "dial-rhoea" is contageous over the phone. (Idiots)

I had already "booked" my semi-permanent hotelling seat until the end of march. Unlike my previous office, in our new "joint" all the BIG-WIGS are in one 'shared' room on the other side of this building. And the small time, middle management (like us) are in a communal semi-cubicle area. This is a refreshing change from the "open planning" Scandinavian style seating that we hd in the other building. No IKEA for us here in the old building, just seats that have been cordened off by shitty, pre-fab, asbestos laced dividers.

(Please remind me to use my BioMed mask if there is a fire in the building.)

Oh, I am freeeeeeee! I am free to do whatever I like, blog, chat to my friends, talk to my boyfriend....

Unfortunately there is one small detail that I have forgotten about being in this new building. The drunken wench friends. Oh and the pub next door. Never put the DWR and the DWF in the same building next to a PUB. This is not the best of combinations...

Yes, Yes, Yes, YEEEEEEEESSSS!!!

2005-02-06T13:08:00.000+09:00

No, it's ok, everyone. I am not having an orgasm on my blog. I'm not an exhibitionist. Nor am I getting any....

Yet.

No. I have managed to get the flights booked for my yoga retreat/diving holiday to Thailand; I'm going via Hong Kong to see my friends whom I have not seen since last March. This is my first holiday since March last year when I travelled thru China, (yes, it has been nearly a year!) and I am in desparate need of R&R. It is not normal for people to be "strapped" to their grey desks, basking in fluorescent lights, wearing a suit nearly 50% of the day in any given weekday (yes, work it out 12hrs is half a day!). Do that for a year without an extended break away from the mundane shites of life?

You go crazy like me.

Ask any of my colleagues. I *appear* normal when they shine that pale white light onto me; I am docile, obiedient, and fake-smiling while busting their balls (and no I do not work in the sex industry), but give me sunshine? The full spectrum from our closest star? I will blossom, *smile*, jump around, and become active. I start running, swimming, trekking up mountains, and playing "spiderman" on indoor free-climbing walls (I'm not good enuf to free climb outside, but will get there, don't worry!). Shine the fluoresant light, and my metabolism and creative brainwaves slow down almost to a halt. Imagine a turtle getting ready for hybernation? Well that's me in the office.

Anyway, yes, yes, yes, yes, YEEEEEESSSSS!!! HOLIDAY IN PARADISE!!!!!

You will not believe it! Eleven days away from the wench mum, away from the fluorescent lights, away from the pollution, away from arseholes who tell me what to do, and how much sand I should put in that vaseline, while I bend over and take it in the back door. Away away away!!!!! I will be spending 2 days in Hong Kong visiting my friends, 5 days on Koh Mak learning to contort myself so that I can fit into a match box (kiddin'). On the island I will be eating only vegitatian food in my vain attempt to reverse all the damage done over Christmas, no let me rephrase, over the past 16+ years, but no hoses pipes up my arse. I did not go for the "irrigation" option, nor does my yoga retreat offer colonic irrigation. I really do not like the idea of going on a retreat with complete strangers knowing that we collectively do yoga, eat, and have 5 litres of some "herbal" liquid agent pumped into our bowels three times a day so that I can expell all the crap that has been residing there for the past decade, or so. If I go, it is ONLY with someone that I am very intimate with coz it's kind of embarrasing to discuss matters like that. Unlike my mum and her Morning Mantras, I am slightly more modest.

After my yoga retreat, I am just going to go where the wind takes me -- as long as there is a beach and a dive shop I am THERE! I will probably spend the last 4 days reading, writing, jogging, diving, and writing some more. No mobile phones, no alarms, no hassles, no one. Just me, my thoughts, and the elements.

Ahhhh... Such heavenly bliss.

So I guess this is my way of introducing a new series (I like series, huh? Well life is like a novel right? There is a begining and an end, with chapters in between). I have not thought of a tile for this upcoming series so I'm up for ideas from readers. I will be using the best idea submitted by midnight Feb.17th GMT+12hrs, and post for the duration of my holiday (when possible). Who's the judge? My cutie and me! (And no, my cutie cannot join me on this holiday -- boo hoo, but he will get lots of updates about my funky holiday!)

So, I'm open to suggestions. Readers, any suggestions for my holiday series title? I am aaaall ears!

(Post Script: Just in case you are wondering, I leave tokyo on Feb 19th and return on March 1st. So! I will announce the winning title on the 18th and start from there.)

Is There A Doctor In The House?

2005-02-05T07:11:00.000+09:00

I do not know what has happened to me lately. I have lost my appetite, I cannot concentrate, my stomach feels funny, and there is something not right about me. I am not seeing things straight anymore, I have started to only look at my surroundings. I could not tell you if it was sunny, or it rained yesterday, or what day of the week I went to see my head doctor. I can't remember if it's the pink pills, or the white pills, I am supposed to take in the morning, and I wouldn't be able to tell you which ones are my longer acting benzodiazepines, for my memory seems to be extremely selective over the past few weeks, and it’s getting worse day by day

Conversations seem like snapshots that you took and can't remember why you took them in the first place? They hold no meaning.

I have heart palpitations, sudden flushes even! The other day the facial muscles around the mandibles were contracting on their own; I found my self being stared at so I lowered my head so my gaze was down at the book, hoping that no one saw me. It’s ok, it's only this funny book that I am reading that’s making me smile.

I gaze out of the window and let time pass; let 13hrs pass in hope that in that time there is a cure for my ailments.

Is there a doctor in the house? I think I’m lovesick...

The Move!!!

2005-02-03T22:02:00.000+09:00

I have now been working for the Pink Elephant for 4.5 years and in that time we have moved office buildings 3 times, changed floors within the same building 4 times, and to top it all we don't even have our own desks! We have something quaint called "The Hotelling System" where we call up the secretary asking them (sometimes begging/bribing them even) to keep a desk for us to work. In simple terms: we, consultants, move a lot, and no, we don't stop moving.

Desk to desk moves (horizontal moves) are not too big a deal, floor to floor (vertical moves) are a bit more challenging, but still it is only a half-day event, but today our department of 38 big-wigs (33 of whom were "out of office reply"s), 2 minnows, and 2 secretaries were packing and preparing to move 3 blocks "back" into the office building that we were in less than 2 years ago.

Why do we move so much?

Starting from 1pm we all got into our "movers' gloves", unfolded all the cardboard boxes stacked along the walls of the office area (and beyond), pulled out our duck tapes (wow, sounds like we are shooting b-grade porn!), and attacked the cabinets in the "archives room" . (yes, we preach 'paperless' to our clients, but we are very much "analog" -- don't ask, we sell BS for a living, what do you expect?)

Now readers, when I say the "archive room" I am talking about one of those "Host Server" rooms at microsoft or at AOL -- vast temperature regulated rooms, to keep the papyrus from falling apart, with sliding cabinets. We are talking LOADS of boxes here!! And the few directors, minnows, and the secretaries worked side by side to get them feckers out of the cabinet into the boxes. If Carl Marx was alive today and saw us work in unison he would have said:"my god, this is what I was talking about, look Lenin, and especially YOU Starlin, see this, this is what I was talking about in my Manifesto!"

In the end it took us nearly 5 hours to pack our department, throw out the rubbish and get ready to be moved by the "professionals" over the weekend. I wiped my brow sat down next to my college, chatted for a bit, only to be greeted by my personal assistant, Mye Crosof Toffice.

*Blink, You have mail, Blink, You have mail*

Thank you silly personal assistant, I am "team building" and working on "collegiality" here with my colleague, what do you want? Huh?

Shit, mail, better open it...

"Dear All Members of CB,
Thank you for helping out with the packing of our department, please be prompt on Monday morning at 9:30am when we begining to UNPACK all that we packed up today. Thank you for your cooperation.
Lovely Lovely Secretary-who-does-all-your-late-expense-sheets-for-you.

Shit! I have to unpack all that shite on Monday morning!!!!!!

Right, I'm pulling a sickie!

Mass Transit and Germ Warfare

2005-02-02T23:35:00.000+09:00

Tokyo has a wonderful mass transit system. We have both overground and underground trains carrying its 12million inhabitants like red blood cells thru deep arteries and surface veins. It is a wonderful way for us to get where we want to -- fast. The complex delivery system of our mass transit is probably not equalled to any other city in the world.

Unfortunately viruses also think so too.

Our cramped, poorly ventilated trains are a perfect means for all sorts of viruses, bacteria, even mould(!) to get from one "host" to the other en masse. Yesterday I sat diagonally opposite to a red faced man who started to sneeze perfusely.

*a-choo, a-choo, a-choo*

I was sitting at least 2 metres away from this man and I could *smell* what he had expelled from each burst of his nose trumpet, for I recognised the faint smell of cheap liquor. The sneezer had been drinking, and now he is sneezing aerosol germs dissolved in ethanol vapour, and I can smell it. This only makes me believe that the pathogen, or allergen, responsible for causing the rapid fireing of his nasal contents has hitched a ride on the "Mass Transit", tickled my olifactory sensory nerves, saying:"tee hee, it's me, *hick* I'm here *hick*" (fuck, even the pathogens are drunk, how much has this man had to drink!)

Ewww. Gross.

And today I have a slightly soar throat... I am drafting this post in my BIB on my way back from work; all I hear is coughing, snivelling, sneezing and all sorts, and it does not help me to feel good about taking public transportation with all these strangers' germs, for I am currently reading a book called UNIT 731: Testimony. Japan's Wartime Human Experimentation Program. Unit 731 was the Japanese Imperial Army's medical unit set up in the early 30s by Dr.Shiro "Mengele" Ishii to combat disease amongst the ranks against their continued campaign against the Russians on the boarders near Manchuria. Ishii quicky recruited the "silent enemy" and decided the way forward in modern warfare is to use desease (and chemicals) to eradicate their enemy. And where better than to test your cholera, plague, haemorigic fever, and typhoid samples on "Lab Rats", see what happens in vivo, and in vitro.

Dr. Ishii, with the help of the special police, Kenpeitai, had his samples: Chinese detainees and prisoners to perfom gruesom tests, vivisection on humans often without anaesthesia. His research organisation was so efficient and accurate that it attracted many civilian medical researchers to continue their "research" in optimum conditions,with very minor error rates, why? They are done on human subjects. Ishii's experients went beyond the etiology of the disease, his team of medical researchers began to refine their germs and delivery methods. Bombs after bombs were dropped on civilian villages so that the "medical team" could record the death rates, perform post mortems, and burn the villages afterwords so that no one could live to tell the tale of the strange "packages" that landed in the village. Ishii's "medical unit" may have been responsible for up to 3000+ deaths of innocent civilians during his 13 year "clinical trial" period for his biological and chemical weapons program. Just like Dr. Joseph "Angel of Death" Mengele, Dr. Ishii was never even tried as a war criminal. Critics often say that the "war crimes" tried under a military tribunals are nothing more than a court for the victors' judging the defeated, rather than an objective judgment of crimes against humanity. I agree. Ishii's crimes agains humanity can only be discribed as just that. Crimes. But the Cold War and his extensive knowledge of pathology, and etiology of various infectious agents were what saved Ishii and his team.

They say that knowledge is power, but at what cost would you, dear readers gain that power? I would like to believe that there is a force amongst humanity more powerful than knowledge.

"There will be no end to the troubles of states, or of humanity itself, till philosophers become kings in this world, or till those we now call kings and rulers really and truly become philosophers, and political power and philosophy thus come into the same hands." Socrates, Plato's Republic

Dear Socrates, was this your vision of Philosopher Kings? Those who went about ernestly seeking the truth? Seeking how pathogens affect the human body? Ishii and Mengele were as accurate in their observations as Aristotle. I bet you are shaking with anger in your grave now, for these men, as you discribe, are lovers of knowledge, and were efficient rulers, "Kings" of their medical team.

Something went wrong, didn't it, Socrates. You missed the dark side of the equation, the darker side of the human soul....

And to you, Dr. Ishii, there was no need for you to kill all those innocent people, all you needed to do was to develop mass transit in a densly populated area to be your delivery system for your germs.

Oh I do wish these people would stop coughing on me!

My Eyes Are Puffy Today...

2005-02-01T14:18:00.000+09:00

And no, I do not have puffy eyes from crying all night, because Cutie and I broke up even if it was a brief relationship. We are still together, still a bit silly, goofy, and sleepy (for me at least, considering that he lives almost 13hrs behind me. But he still amazes me with his ability to stay awake for days), but that is not the reason why I have puffy eyes this morning.

Pollen. Cedar pollen to be exact.

There is one extra season in this country, neither winter, nor spring, which I call "orgy season" when the cedar forests located to the west of our giant metropolis decide to just go for it, full on, shake their tushes, and release in extasy their pollen in search for that, moist, wet, flower. Unfortunately those naughty pollen can't tell the difference between cedar flowers and the moist membranes of my eyes and my nasal passages. They are like stupid sperm that sitts there butting their heads, trying to release their "package of life", against the anal cavity wall. Wrong membrane cedar pollen, wrong membrane. You're not going to procreate like that.

And now, I have puffy, itchy eyes. The cedar pollen waft over in multitude at this time of the year that in addition to the weather conditions, UV. rays , and pollution levels, the weather man tells us how much pollen there is going to be attacking my conjunctiva that day. I have already seen a few people wearing goggles, much like those I used to wear during my chemistry class at school, on the trains. They look a bit silly, I know, but anything to keep those horney buggers out of my eyes. (I'm thinking about getting them too, if not I will have the drunken wench friends tellling me, "aaahh, broken up with Cutie? Nevermind, let's go out for a drink.")

My mother also suffers from hayfever so we will have to go thru a "routine" just to enter the house: first before we open the front door we brush the pollen off, much like one would brush off snow from our hat and shoulders, second we remove our outer clothing, spray it with Fabreze and hang it by the doorway BEHIND the screen, and third (finally) we have a shower to rid us of those potent allergens, and have an Optrex eye wash.

Phew. All that to get INTO the living room, to settle down after a long hard day... all because it's orgy season for the fecking horney cedar trees. And you know the irony of it all? If I go hiking in the cedar forests I do not get hayfeaver. Why? The cedar trees are blowing pollen in the WRONG DIRECTION!!!! There aren't any cedar punany in the city!!!!

(or maybe cedar trees are blowing in the wrong "hole" so to speak, and have no intention of reproducing. Shit, cedar trees are gay! They are EYE bandits!!!!)