But I quit.
To those who know me well, this will draw comparison's to the famous Dulaney Lion's Baseball Scandal of 2002, which saw me quit as captain of the Dulaney Lions Baseball team solely because I did not want to miss the champions league final between Real Madrid and Leverkusen.
But, just because they gave me the title of Deputy GM does not mean that they treated me like one in this company. No indeed, I was treated very poorly. Even though my work was excellent and very critical to the operation of the business, I was lied to, made to work long hours with no overtime, and even denied the use of my passport via them putting it in their household safe. I was also horribley underpaid and lied to about future pay raises and incentive packages.
The Dulaney Lions were innocent, and I left them; The company in Shanghai (name omitted) were horribly corrupt and inept at the same time, and deserve many horrible things. horrible.
I have several jobs on the horizon, the one that will end up suiting me best for now seems to be a teaching position. My main goal for the time being is to improve my chinese so that I can pass a proficiency test and get into a Master's Degree program. The teaching position, unlike my current one, affords me that time. I have not come to start a business career; I am not a businessman.
By the by, I do not regret quitting as captain of the dulaney lions baseball team to watch that champions league final, for several reason. Zidane hit an amazing left footed volley into the upper 90, and it was the last final that madrid has won to date. Although i'm not a madrid fan, I am a Zidane fan ... and it was an entertaining game.
4.26.2007
4.17.2007
New Tea festival
So I went to this festival on Saturday called the "Neo Cha Neo Con festival" ... anyway there were no neo conservatives so it was very fun. www.neocha.com is the website for this event and if anyone reading this can read chinese, you're more than welcome to give it a look, but i'll summarize it here. It was held in an old abandoned industrial factory along the SuZhou creek in Shanghai's ZhongShan Park area. It was a really cool looking place, it was falling apart and dirty and definitely grunge-chic. The place has 3 floors and they were all filled with various festival activities.
The first floor was an exhibition area. Anyone could apply for a booth to display whatever they wanted, but it was mostly artsy type stores and artists peddling their goods. It had some interesting stuff and alot of people who made mini movie theatres out of their booths and showed short movies. There were some crazy underground chinese independent films, it was interesting.
The second floor was a lounge area mixed with an area for an art display. The art display was multiple clotheslines with polaroid pictures hanging off of them. These polaroids were taken of people as they walked around the festival, with or without their knowledge, it was interesting to look at.
The third floor was the music venue and had room for atleast 1000 people ... and although I would say more than that came to the festival, most spent their time wandering around not staying in one place, but it was ok since the music could heard from from anywhere within 3 blocks. I hung out with one band in particular, they were called the Banana Monkeys. Actually they were very very good. I think they're some sort of chinese superband made up of people that have been around for awhile, because they arent young, and everyone seems to knoe punkw them, even though they have only recorded two songs and their cd doesnt come out until nov. Anyway they played spirited sex pistols meets VU type rock/punk. It was good, and he is definitely a screamer.
The first floor was an exhibition area. Anyone could apply for a booth to display whatever they wanted, but it was mostly artsy type stores and artists peddling their goods. It had some interesting stuff and alot of people who made mini movie theatres out of their booths and showed short movies. There were some crazy underground chinese independent films, it was interesting.
The second floor was a lounge area mixed with an area for an art display. The art display was multiple clotheslines with polaroid pictures hanging off of them. These polaroids were taken of people as they walked around the festival, with or without their knowledge, it was interesting to look at.
The third floor was the music venue and had room for atleast 1000 people ... and although I would say more than that came to the festival, most spent their time wandering around not staying in one place, but it was ok since the music could heard from from anywhere within 3 blocks. I hung out with one band in particular, they were called the Banana Monkeys. Actually they were very very good. I think they're some sort of chinese superband made up of people that have been around for awhile, because they arent young, and everyone seems to knoe punkw them, even though they have only recorded two songs and their cd doesnt come out until nov. Anyway they played spirited sex pistols meets VU type rock/punk. It was good, and he is definitely a screamer.
4.08.2007
CG Jesus
Just thought I'd let whoever reads this know that China has produced it's own computer generated version of the crucifixion and eventual rebirth of the J-man. Rest easy my children! for Jesus was recreated in CG form with meticulously crafted pixel shading to ensure the accurate recreation of that smooth olive skin and muscled physique Jesus was known for. There was even a cute dog, seemingly of the terrier variety. What was Jesus doing with a terrier in the Mediterranean long before the breed had ever been popularized outside of Northern Great Britain you might ask? Blasphemer! The Christ-God can have any dog he likes!
You thought watching Christ whipped and beaten and crucified upon the cross in The Passion of the Christ was gut-wrenching ... just imagine the emotional beating you would have received if you had seen all of that PLUS a computer generated adolescent terrier crying on the side of the road as well. Well, I won't describe it to you because if I did, just reading the written word off of this page would make your eyes bleed and your souls turn black and dry up ... but it was hard to watch.
Before watching this I had doubts about the validity of Jesus being crucified on the cross ... did it really happen, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure until I saw this program on Chinese TV. Now I'm sold.
On a completely unrelated note, I met three girls last night ... Lavender, Swallow and Spit. Lavender was a nice girl who I met at a bar, we got to chatting and will probably continue to do so. Swallow and Spit I met at a different bar. But as you can imagine, their take on how to go about living life was dramatically different. I got along much better with swallow, and so we shall continue chatting. Spit, however, was too uptight ... and so we shall not continue to converse. go figure.
*Actual names (except Spit ... that was a comedy bit ... but Swallow is real)
You thought watching Christ whipped and beaten and crucified upon the cross in The Passion of the Christ was gut-wrenching ... just imagine the emotional beating you would have received if you had seen all of that PLUS a computer generated adolescent terrier crying on the side of the road as well. Well, I won't describe it to you because if I did, just reading the written word off of this page would make your eyes bleed and your souls turn black and dry up ... but it was hard to watch.
Before watching this I had doubts about the validity of Jesus being crucified on the cross ... did it really happen, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure until I saw this program on Chinese TV. Now I'm sold.
On a completely unrelated note, I met three girls last night ... Lavender, Swallow and Spit. Lavender was a nice girl who I met at a bar, we got to chatting and will probably continue to do so. Swallow and Spit I met at a different bar. But as you can imagine, their take on how to go about living life was dramatically different. I got along much better with swallow, and so we shall continue chatting. Spit, however, was too uptight ... and so we shall not continue to converse. go figure.
*Actual names (except Spit ... that was a comedy bit ... but Swallow is real)
4.06.2007
The Dirty Mango
Yes, I ate several dirty mango's and they were juicy, succulent and very very mango-ey. But in the end they betrayed me, and instead of satisfying my intense appetite for this most delicious orange fruit, they made me very horribly ill. So ill that I had to go to the hospital and stay there overnight and get IV's put into my arm and other interesting things inserted into various places that should not be giving entry to such things.
I have since been freed from that horrible place, and I'm still the same old me ... less a few pounds and my dignity. The road to recovery is a hard one though, so I find myself back in the City Diner sipping bottomless coke and nibbling on a banana split ... what a fucking hell.
So, for this entire week I've been home from work. Just sitting around watching Stephen Chow movies, reading up on my Chinese, and occasionally running to the bathroom to shit my brains out. paradise.
While I was sprawled out on my bed watching TV I saw a news report. This news report focused on a school for the mentally handicapped. They might as well have just printed the script from the Strangers With Candy Episode about retards and scrolled it across the screen in glaring hot pink letters:
Hi. This is Wilford Brimley. Welcome to ‘Retardation: A Celebration.’
Now, hopefully with this book, I’m gonna dispel a few myths, a few rumors. First off, the retarded don’t rule the night. They don’t rule it – nobody does. And they don’t run in packs. And while they may not be as strong as apes, don’t lock eyes with ‘em, don’t do it. Puts ‘em on edge. They might go into berserker mode, come at you like a whirling dervish, all fists and elbows. You might be screaming, ‘No, no, no,’ – all they hear is, ‘Who wants cake?’
Let me tell you something: They all do. They all want cake.
Well, that’s it for the celebration. I guess the most important thing to remember is, they’re just like you and me.
Substitute 'Wilfred Brimley' with '#3 Dispatcher of Absolute Truth from your All Knowing Communist Overlords' and I'd say you've got a pretty standard Chinese news report.
That day I was hearing a report from the kind of person who would say "I'm not racist, I have 2 black friends and we get along great!" or "I'm not racist, I teach black kids." The report went something like this (translated roughly and to put full emphasis on their choice of words): "blah blah blah school is here blah blah ... and there is something about these kids that normal people like us will never understand. Things that would make normal people like you or I sad or afraid, only serve as entertainment for their strange minds. Some people may ask, "What is the use of teaching them?" Well here with one possible answer is Teacher Zhou, who is brave enough to attempt to educate these children, even while they are mocked by local villagers..."
This voice over was set against the backdrop of a full compliment of retarded children running down the street ... presumably fleeing some imaginary foe only visible to them in their feeble, confused minds. They were all there: The Living Ham, Baxter, Gurm, even Frankenstein made a frightening appearance as he stumbled down the street in terror. They must have opened the gates and come after them with cattle prods to cause such a stampede.
Actually it's a miracle these kids have survived as long as they have. Usually they would kill you at birth just for being female, which is bad enough, just imagine the hearts of gold their parents must have had not to throw her down the unwanted baby-hatch as soon as the Living Ham began her assault on all the known human senses of perception. They just waited a few years and cast her into a re-titled prison, with no hope of escape. Alcatraz is one of the most famous prisons in the USA ... only 2 people have ever escaped, but they've never been found since. The prison that The Living Ham finds herself in has nothing barring her exit, except for a gate that is more of a showpiece than anything else. The true barrier, as they would tell you in the news report, is in the mind of the Living Ham herself. An insurmountable collection of mystical foes and terrifying landscapes. A land where looking towards the setting sun does not bring with it the hope of a better tomorrow, it only brings the promise of pain and unmitigated fear. The retarded children, we are informed, laugh not out of joy or happiness, but out of pure terror. That is something for you to think about the next you want to help by dangling a pretty flower in their face and making funny noises. They don't see a flower ... They see a towering death scorpion holding the pain and suffering of all creation in its claws, and a gruesome stinger poised to bring down every ounce of wrath and godfury upon they're quivering face. Your soothing noises are the scorpions war call and the tolling of the death bell wrapped in one. Just think about it.
Speaking of Unwanted Baby Hatches, I heard that Japan just approved the first unwanted baby hatch for use in hospitals. Happy Days.
I have since been freed from that horrible place, and I'm still the same old me ... less a few pounds and my dignity. The road to recovery is a hard one though, so I find myself back in the City Diner sipping bottomless coke and nibbling on a banana split ... what a fucking hell.
So, for this entire week I've been home from work. Just sitting around watching Stephen Chow movies, reading up on my Chinese, and occasionally running to the bathroom to shit my brains out. paradise.
While I was sprawled out on my bed watching TV I saw a news report. This news report focused on a school for the mentally handicapped. They might as well have just printed the script from the Strangers With Candy Episode about retards and scrolled it across the screen in glaring hot pink letters:
Hi. This is Wilford Brimley. Welcome to ‘Retardation: A Celebration.’
Now, hopefully with this book, I’m gonna dispel a few myths, a few rumors. First off, the retarded don’t rule the night. They don’t rule it – nobody does. And they don’t run in packs. And while they may not be as strong as apes, don’t lock eyes with ‘em, don’t do it. Puts ‘em on edge. They might go into berserker mode, come at you like a whirling dervish, all fists and elbows. You might be screaming, ‘No, no, no,’ – all they hear is, ‘Who wants cake?’
Let me tell you something: They all do. They all want cake.
Well, that’s it for the celebration. I guess the most important thing to remember is, they’re just like you and me.
Substitute 'Wilfred Brimley' with '#3 Dispatcher of Absolute Truth from your All Knowing Communist Overlords' and I'd say you've got a pretty standard Chinese news report.
That day I was hearing a report from the kind of person who would say "I'm not racist, I have 2 black friends and we get along great!" or "I'm not racist, I teach black kids." The report went something like this (translated roughly and to put full emphasis on their choice of words): "blah blah blah school is here blah blah ... and there is something about these kids that normal people like us will never understand. Things that would make normal people like you or I sad or afraid, only serve as entertainment for their strange minds. Some people may ask, "What is the use of teaching them?" Well here with one possible answer is Teacher Zhou, who is brave enough to attempt to educate these children, even while they are mocked by local villagers..."
This voice over was set against the backdrop of a full compliment of retarded children running down the street ... presumably fleeing some imaginary foe only visible to them in their feeble, confused minds. They were all there: The Living Ham, Baxter, Gurm, even Frankenstein made a frightening appearance as he stumbled down the street in terror. They must have opened the gates and come after them with cattle prods to cause such a stampede.
Actually it's a miracle these kids have survived as long as they have. Usually they would kill you at birth just for being female, which is bad enough, just imagine the hearts of gold their parents must have had not to throw her down the unwanted baby-hatch as soon as the Living Ham began her assault on all the known human senses of perception. They just waited a few years and cast her into a re-titled prison, with no hope of escape. Alcatraz is one of the most famous prisons in the USA ... only 2 people have ever escaped, but they've never been found since. The prison that The Living Ham finds herself in has nothing barring her exit, except for a gate that is more of a showpiece than anything else. The true barrier, as they would tell you in the news report, is in the mind of the Living Ham herself. An insurmountable collection of mystical foes and terrifying landscapes. A land where looking towards the setting sun does not bring with it the hope of a better tomorrow, it only brings the promise of pain and unmitigated fear. The retarded children, we are informed, laugh not out of joy or happiness, but out of pure terror. That is something for you to think about the next you want to help by dangling a pretty flower in their face and making funny noises. They don't see a flower ... They see a towering death scorpion holding the pain and suffering of all creation in its claws, and a gruesome stinger poised to bring down every ounce of wrath and godfury upon they're quivering face. Your soothing noises are the scorpions war call and the tolling of the death bell wrapped in one. Just think about it.
Speaking of Unwanted Baby Hatches, I heard that Japan just approved the first unwanted baby hatch for use in hospitals. Happy Days.
4.03.2007
The Good, The Bad and The Fucking Insane
I'm a peaceful man by nature. I'm content to let the bureaucrats and the soldiers wage their wars while I go my own way, mind my own business ... look out for number 1. But no matter how peaceful or intent on going ones own way a man is, a fight will find him. And as the fight approaches the man will find his instincts come to the fore. The hair on the back of his neck will raise, muscles tense, his attention will focus on the objective alone. Before you can think it's happening and you're into the fucking fray.
This is the situation I presently find myself in.
Dramatic isn't it?
Well I've exaggerated a bit.
The other day I was resting in my apartment and, it being Saturday, the resting was good. Coco, who I've started dating again, was cleaning the apartment and singing Chinese pop songs and I was watching movies and listening to music, eagerly anticipating the English soccer games that would play on TV that night. Little Punk was in the other room, doing whatever it is she does. Writing poems, or singing songs to herself ... living in her own world. This was the usual relaxing Saturday that had come to be what I expected of a weekend. This was the day that all would change.
Nobody could have seen this coming. You could have gone to all the fortune tellers across all four corners of the globe, and they wouldn't have seen it. And I, being me, definitely did not see it. Coco, for her part, would later say that she saw it coming. I don't believe her.
This particular Saturday was the day that Little Punk would choose to confess her undying love for me.
I don't know who reads this and who doesn't, but the people who studied in CIEE with me spring 2006 semester might know ... if they frequented my apartment at all. My friends back home almost surely do not know who she is, and anyone else may know who she is ... but only by proxy. I'm not going to explain who she is. She is a girl who only goes by the name Little Punk, and she is just that. I may be willing to explain on a case by case basis, so email me if you want to know.
It came as quite a shock to me, and to Coco as well. Ever since I had known Little Punk we had never had this type of relationship. She had always liked Justin or Eric or Andrew, not me, and I was fine with that, I had coco then, and I had her now.
So as Little Punk stood there in her stripped socks and suspenders telling Coco and I how she loved me, and how it would be best for everyone if I left Coco and was with her instead, there were no words that came to me. It seemed the same for Coco, we both just sat there mouth's agape wondering what would happen next. I got my answer in the form of a loud, shrill, piercing scream from Coco's mouth.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Coco screamed in Chinese accented, Italian accented English.
This is the part where everything broke down.
Coco was up in a flurry of motion .... her body transformed into a whirling dervish of fists and elbows as she carved out a path of destruction aimed directly at poor Little Punk. I stepped into her warpath to protect Little Punk and caught most of the blows on my face and shoulders. But I was alright. I had to drag Coco into my bedroom and hold her down while she vented her fury. Little Punk, completely oblivious to the situation as usual, entered the room and started asking what was wrong. Coco then went into crazy mode and it was all I could do to keep her pinned to the bed.
I finally got Little Punk to leave, though she didn't understand the need for it, and I started the long process of talking Coco down from her red fury. I won't get you involved in that ... it would just take too long. But it's important that you know I was successful. Although I had gotten Coco to calm herself, she still talked about stabbing Little Punk in the eyes, so I decided it was best if I asked Little Punk to leave.
After some argument with her about how this wasn't fair to her, and why did she always like guys at the wrong time, or after they were always seeing someone else. There wasn't really an answer I could give her for that, except sorry ... and that right now she had to leave.
I felt bad to usher her out like that ... but I really did think Coco would have killed her, so this was best for everyone involved. Since then, Coco has returned to her normal pleasant self, and I have been receiving constant text messages from Little Punk. They mainly concern the unfairness of the situation and the agony of being alone. With healthy doses of "I'm so High" and "please come and take me away" thrown in; I'm sure they will continue for a long time.
That was my Saturday, sorry for the overly dramatic nature of the post; I'm hopped up on Coca-Cola and the City Diner is playing an endless loop of the White Album, so I'm in the mood.
This is the situation I presently find myself in.
Dramatic isn't it?
Well I've exaggerated a bit.
The other day I was resting in my apartment and, it being Saturday, the resting was good. Coco, who I've started dating again, was cleaning the apartment and singing Chinese pop songs and I was watching movies and listening to music, eagerly anticipating the English soccer games that would play on TV that night. Little Punk was in the other room, doing whatever it is she does. Writing poems, or singing songs to herself ... living in her own world. This was the usual relaxing Saturday that had come to be what I expected of a weekend. This was the day that all would change.
Nobody could have seen this coming. You could have gone to all the fortune tellers across all four corners of the globe, and they wouldn't have seen it. And I, being me, definitely did not see it. Coco, for her part, would later say that she saw it coming. I don't believe her.
This particular Saturday was the day that Little Punk would choose to confess her undying love for me.
I don't know who reads this and who doesn't, but the people who studied in CIEE with me spring 2006 semester might know ... if they frequented my apartment at all. My friends back home almost surely do not know who she is, and anyone else may know who she is ... but only by proxy. I'm not going to explain who she is. She is a girl who only goes by the name Little Punk, and she is just that. I may be willing to explain on a case by case basis, so email me if you want to know.
It came as quite a shock to me, and to Coco as well. Ever since I had known Little Punk we had never had this type of relationship. She had always liked Justin or Eric or Andrew, not me, and I was fine with that, I had coco then, and I had her now.
So as Little Punk stood there in her stripped socks and suspenders telling Coco and I how she loved me, and how it would be best for everyone if I left Coco and was with her instead, there were no words that came to me. It seemed the same for Coco, we both just sat there mouth's agape wondering what would happen next. I got my answer in the form of a loud, shrill, piercing scream from Coco's mouth.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Coco screamed in Chinese accented, Italian accented English.
This is the part where everything broke down.
Coco was up in a flurry of motion .... her body transformed into a whirling dervish of fists and elbows as she carved out a path of destruction aimed directly at poor Little Punk. I stepped into her warpath to protect Little Punk and caught most of the blows on my face and shoulders. But I was alright. I had to drag Coco into my bedroom and hold her down while she vented her fury. Little Punk, completely oblivious to the situation as usual, entered the room and started asking what was wrong. Coco then went into crazy mode and it was all I could do to keep her pinned to the bed.
I finally got Little Punk to leave, though she didn't understand the need for it, and I started the long process of talking Coco down from her red fury. I won't get you involved in that ... it would just take too long. But it's important that you know I was successful. Although I had gotten Coco to calm herself, she still talked about stabbing Little Punk in the eyes, so I decided it was best if I asked Little Punk to leave.
After some argument with her about how this wasn't fair to her, and why did she always like guys at the wrong time, or after they were always seeing someone else. There wasn't really an answer I could give her for that, except sorry ... and that right now she had to leave.
I felt bad to usher her out like that ... but I really did think Coco would have killed her, so this was best for everyone involved. Since then, Coco has returned to her normal pleasant self, and I have been receiving constant text messages from Little Punk. They mainly concern the unfairness of the situation and the agony of being alone. With healthy doses of "I'm so High" and "please come and take me away" thrown in; I'm sure they will continue for a long time.
That was my Saturday, sorry for the overly dramatic nature of the post; I'm hopped up on Coca-Cola and the City Diner is playing an endless loop of the White Album, so I'm in the mood.
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