Monthly Archive: September 2006

“He go to Bangkok”

“He go to Bangkok” is the punchline to a joke related to today’s events.

Yeah, the TTC was misbehaving today. When I made it to the end of the Bloor-Danforth line, I switched over to the Scarborough RT and sat on the unmoving train for a good 15 minutes. There was some track trouble which prevented the train from leaving the station at all. They eventually announced that there were shuttle buses running now between stations because the wait was unknown at the time. So, alright, I went to the bus bays and hung around waiting for the shuttle buses. A huge crowd had formed, waiting to get on with their commute home. After 10 minutes of nothing, I went back in, checked a map, and got on a different bus. About 10 minutes later on the crowded bus, I got off next to the station where I parked my car and walked to the lot. As I neared the station, I saw people waiting around and I thought, “man…poor fools…don’t they know the RT is down?” Ah, well, sure enough, a train arrived coming from the station that I was just at.

I exclaimed out loud, “that just makes me so bloody angry!”

—–

Earlier this morning, at the very station I would be trying to get to later that night, I put in a token in the turnstile and started walking through. I don’t know what the hell happened, but the bars rotated and hit me in the crotch. I was in shock. I decided not to back out. I kept on moving forward, but as I did the bars kept riding higher and higher up. I ended up bringing my legs way over the turnstile while hopping, all in an attempt to get through. One spectator exclaimed, “crazy, man!” I’m sure the booth collector found it all amusing. Those turnstiles are death traps, I tell you.

Who would have known?

On my iPod, I have a track called Bachelor(ette) by Voltaire. It’s a cover of the Björk song Bachelorette, and has a totally different feel from the original. It’s not as epic and grandiose as the first version, but it’s just as brooding. I think, the aspect that really transforms Voltaire’s take on the song is how he switched the gender focus on the song. Instead of the song coming from the point of view of a woman receiving, it’s sung from the point of view of a male acting. This is best shown by an example.

“I’m a path of cinders burning under your feet / You’re the one who walks me / I’m your one way street”

became

“You’re a path of cinders burning under my feet / I’m the one who walks you / You’re my one way street”

The change is simple, but the effect is tremendous. It almost makes the song seem a bit more aggressive. Go read the original lyrics and switch the point of view.

So, earlier today, as I was sitting in the streetcar, I was mulling over the effect of this change. My attention went to other Björk songs because I was curious as to whether things would be as dramatic. The one song that generated the weirdest results in my mind was Cocoon off of Vespertine. By changing the song from the female point of view to a male one, the song went from a gentle cooing of a girl and her lover to something a bit more pervy and self-congratulatory.
—–
“Who would have known that a boy like him, after sharing my core would stay going nowhere”

would become…

“Who would have known that a boy like me, after sharing her core would stay going nowhere”
—–
“He slides inside, half awake, half asleep…when I wake up a second time in his arms, gorgeousness! He’s still inside me!”

would become…

“I slide inside, half awake, half asleep…when she wakes up a second time in my arms, gorgeousness! I’m still inside her!”
—–
Now, doesn’t that sounds a whole lot dirtier?

I was just amused by it all.

Hairy pork

Went to a shady food court on Spadina for lunch today. There was a special: 5 items for under $4.
(Heh, I think some of you know the place I’m talking about)

In theory it sounded good. The truth is though that it was pretty nasty. The eggplant was swimming in oil. The tofu didn’t feel fresh. The noodles tasted a bit old. In the end, you get what you pay for, I guess.

I ordered sweet and sour pork as part of the combo. The pieces were a bit tough–they guy who prepared it left the skin on, meaning that some of the pieces were really chewy. One of the pieces that I pulled up looked like it had stringy things coming out of it. They didn’t stand out because it looked just as well cooked as the rest of the piece of pork. I thought that it might have been from a brush that they might have been using to glaze the pork. However, upon closer examination, I found out that I was looking at a hairy piece of pork.

Oh, but no, it wasn’t human hair. See, the thing about leaving the skin on is that if you do, you *have* to shave the skin–especially if the meat comes from the head.

Yeah, I don’t plan on going back there again.

Wedding preparations

I had another dream last night.

(I swear, I think there’s something funky going on with Neptune in relation to water signs)

This time I dreamt that I was getting ready for a wedding. Oh, but this was different. This was my wedding.

W-w-w-what?

Yeah, at some point during the dream, I was thinking that I was in a bit of shock that this was happening so soon–three years after graduation. It’s interesting how my dream actually pinpointed a certain period of time. Anyway, I was getting ready in my house, and since it was a big event, my relatives from New York/New Jersey were staying over. I remember being nervous, and feeling gaseous. Something a bit graphic happened as a result…and if you’re interested you can contact me for more info. Let’s just say that it involves a little bit of a “surprise”. Ahem.

After showering, I was trying on various shirts. For whatever reason, I wasn’t going to be wearing a tuxedo. I was going to wear my suit with a coloured shirt of some sort. I put on a slate grey shirt and looked in the mirror. It was a bit wrinkled and bunching around the waist. I left my room and asked my cousin Lauren for advice. She didn’t say much, but smiled and shook her head in disapproval. So, I tried on a bright yellow short sleeve shirt. I thought that although it looked alright, it was a bit too flashy. So, I tried on a red shirt. Again, it was a bit sloppy looking. I asked Lauren once more, and she sighed and told me to look at a magazine article she had on hand. It stated that guy should not wear shirts that are too large and not properly fitted. Doing so results in looking sloppy and having the shirt bunched at the waist. Hah. Funny that. So, I settled on wearing that bright yellow shirt.

As I left the house, I saw a black pick up truck. That was my ride in to the church. Inside the truck was my bride. I had no idea who this person was. All I knew was that she was a shorter Filipina whose name was…Dina? Diane? I dunno. It was a short name that started with a D or a P. I asked her if there was a short form that I could call her, like “Di” or something. I don’t remember her response. Her head was covered in a veil, but I could still make out her eyes. They seemed focused on the road ahead. Not once did she look at me.

My mom was going to drive the truck. She climbed in. There was someone in the front seat, but I don’t know who it was. From across the street came a bunch of people that I sort of knew. They were all heading to the wedding with us. I was looking at them one by one to see if I could remember their names. There was a guy named Paul who looks vaguely familiar. There was another guy whom I needed a bit of confirmation from to remember his name. I asked, “Your name is…Hua Long…right?” He replied in a bit of frustration “It’s Hua Rang”. All I could do was apologize. I don’t remmeber the rest of the people in the back.

And that’s when I woke up.

You know, after the dream, I was a little bit sad. I mean, it wasn’t a terrible dream, but it was filled with a lot of uneasiness. There were a lot of unknown factors. The one known factor that stuck out at me was the date: three years from now. I’m certianly not on any schedule for things to happen. Though for anything to really happen in 2009, I’ll need to find someone, and that’s been problematic as of late. I have an ongoing track record of girls placing me firmly in the “friend zone”. And while it means I’ve got a lot of friends, it also means that there’s a role in my life that hasn’t been filled. This dream just reminded me of that.

No matter though. Life has been very kind to me as of late. If I place my focus on developing my career, I’ll easily get by. To be honest, I’m hoping that I’ll stop caring about such things, not because of a lack of interest, but because it makes me think of what I lack. It takes my attention away from the many blessings that I’ve been handed.

And life will go on, no matter what.

Time shift

You know, it was obvious that this was going to happen once I started working again, but it still surprises me nonetheless. My circadian rhythms have been shifted such that I end up waking at 7 regardless of whether or not I have work that day. It’s now 11 p.m. and I’m feeling extremely sleepy. I can remember that just a month ago, I would have been wide awake at this same time, and probably going to sleep at 2 or 3 a.m. Nope, not anymore. On weekdays, I’m usually so exhausted by 10 or 11 that I basically fall under really quickly. There have been days when I fall asleep with the lights on, still wearing my work clothes.

So, really, I’m wondering whether this is more just a transitional period where my body is being hit especially hard, up until it reaches some internal equilibrium. Or perhaps is this just a sign that I’m not getting enough vitamins. I suppose taking some daily supplement can’t hurt anyway, right?

Sans strategy

So, I’ve been playing poker at work on occasion. It’s entertaining to an extent, but I’ll be honest, the fun factor is dying out pretty quickly. In fact it’s a bit frustrating. I’m not a poker player. I’m not that good. I don’t play with strategy, or make the wisest moves all the time. No, I purely play for fun. So, when other players poke at my apparent ineptitude, it’s a bit hard to take. One of them was complaining, “I can never get a read on this guy; there’s just no strategy.” Psht. Well, I don’t have to play, if it’ll make people happy. Easy enough.

Heh. Come to think of it, I’m pretty mindless when it comes to a lot of games. I’ve taken heat for playing dominos without strategy. I don’t think I have the concentration that I’ve seen other people play “Clue” with. I’m lucky I don’t play Mahjong for money or else I’d be toast; to be frank, I just playing with the tiles. When you’re just starting out in a game, of course, you’re not going to play strategically or in the smartest manner. Maybe that’s my problem. I know how to play lots of games, but not in depth. I can see how it can anger or frustrate seasoned players. Well in the end, I’m not playing to impress them–I play for enjoyment, and when that’s no longer happening, there’s a serious issue.

Soul crusher

Last Friday was the bi-weekly company lunch. It was my first time, and was just expecting a simple catered deal. Thing is, at each of these lunches, all new employees are expected to stand on the stairwell and give a small personal introduction. Apparently, it seemed to be a big deal with everyone. I was “warned” by no less than 5 people about this speech. Whatever. I told one of them that I would have preferred not knowing about having to do so; I sometimes come up with real gems when I’m forced to think on the spot. With so many warnings, my mind went into overdrive over what I was going to say. I couldn’t think of many hobbies that I had (that weren’t embarassing to talk about). I sure as hell wasn’t going to mention anime (which is a half-truth anyway), or worse yet, that show. Umm…no.

In the end, when my turn to talk came around, I spoke about my education and previous experience. When I started talking about my hobbies, I stopped with a dramatic pause and put on a puzzled look. I followed that with: “Well…my hobbies…I don’t have any because school drained me of any soul that I once had.” Well, I was pleasantly surprised when that line was well received by everyone; it got many laughs. Although, now, I think I’ll be forever known in the company as the guy whose soul was crushed.

Stranded in Japan

I don’t dream pretty often, but when I do, they’re really vivid. I had a dream last night. Unfortunately, I’ve already forgotten some of the details. As time passes, I’m misplacing more and more memories of what happened.

Well, I think it takes place somewhere in Japan. For a great deal of the dream I was trying to communicate in Japanese based on what little knowledge I have. Funny thing is, there’s also some English and Tagalog in the dream. The setting is one of those streets that I frequently walked down while I was staying in Asakusa. It wasn’t a busy neighborhood at all–probably as busy as a street you’d find in Brampton.

For whatever reason, I has in a convenience store, though not one of the bright flashy ones that I always saw. This was more of a ma and pa store with a lot of wood panelling. The clerk seemed to be this American type guy who was wearing pajamas while minding the register. After shopping I asked him in Japanese if there was a toilet in the store. I really had to pee. He went in the back and came back asking in English: “Do you want a Boston crapper or a squat toilet?” I still wanted to practice my Japanese, so I said, “dochira mo ii desu,” or, “whatever is OK.” So, I went out back, where the scenery suddenly took on more of a Southwestern US terra cotta villa type dwelling. I wandered around and found the toilet. The toilet was a bit low, and had a half height tank. When I came back, for whatever reason, I found that I couldn’t pay for what I was going to buy. I was starting to panic. However, I was panicking more because I needed cash to get to the airport. I needed to find an ATM. So, I asked if there was an ATM around. The guy said that there was one out back. So, I went back, and wandered around, wondering why there would be an ATM in a residential area. I ended up poking around the bedroom, and fond nothing, so I came back to the shop.

By then, there were new employees in the store because of a shift change. The clerk was now a teenage guy with glasses, and there was this grandmother-like woman with curly grey hair. She was wearing some sort of eggplant coloured outfit with a floral shirt and a vest. I asked her if there was an ATM: “ATM ga arimasu ka.” She said yes, and led me to the back again. She led me to the bedroom, thinking that the ATM was there. Inside, on the right, was a white painted dresser with various things on it. On the right were two electronic devices. She was pointing to both. One was a digital clock with blue writing, while the other was a red digital radio that was sort of tall, and looked had al sorts of buttons on it. I was trying to practice my Japanese by saying useless phrases like, “that is a radio,” or, “that is a clock.” It was pretty useless, so I thanked the grandmother and headed back out. I was a bit nervous, so I went out ahead of the grandmother. The entrance to the area was a swinging door. In my nervous energy, I didn’t hold the door for the grandmother, and it ended up hitting her. I think she got pissed afterwards.

I was freaking out. The teen was noticing my distress and learned of my dilemma. That’s when this middle aged Canadian woman walks in. She was tall-ish and had wavy brown shoulder length hair. She wore sunglasses. The teen tells her in English about my problem. He asked her if she had any money to spare. I was kind of embarassed and sort of hid in one of the store aisles, peeking at the situation. She said, “you poor thing” as she reached into her purse. She handed me a ¥500 coin (which read 200…but was shaped and coloured like a 500) and a Canadian $20 bill. The $20 bill was of the old design which had birds. It wasn’t enough, but I was really thankful.

The teen’s aunt was outside and he went out to ask her about the ATM. She told him she knew, so I went outside to meet her. She was on the side of the street with a big black wok on top of a fire. She was stirring some beef with two big sticks (much like they do in the Mongolian Grill by UW). She spoke to me in Tagalog about how she knew where it was. However, she couldn’t leave the wok, so she was waiting for the grandmother to take over. However, the grandmother just stood outside, looking away from me, obviously angry. Time was running out. The aunt said that the ATM closed at 3. I panicked.

Umm…that’s when I woke up from the dream. I woke up feeling really sad and stressed out about the situation–this, despite it not really happening. It’s funny how a dream can affect you on such a level, you know?

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