In Case You Never Hear from Me Again...

I may not be able to blog for the next few weeks...out of nowhere, my super-sleepy hypothyroid symptoms came back. That's the thing about thyroid problems; the symptoms fade away for a time, then come back full force. Just when you think something is gone for good, you get slammed again. In my case, I suddenly started feeling super-sleepy again, right there in the middle of class, this past Friday.

This isn't your average sleepiness...this is like trying to fight off a coma. It takes over my mind and soul, and I can't focus. I feel lightheaded and become unable to form a coherent sentence. I literally cannot function. This is advanced sleepiness. And it might ruin my next few months.

Anyway, if I start to disappear for weeks on end again, that's why.

Kambodia Fried Magic!

There is a magical place I like to eat sometimes, called KFC. (No matter what "KFC" stands for in America, it stands for Kampuchea Food Corporation in Cambodia. The fact that Colonel Sanders' elderly visage is on all the merchandise is just some strange coincidence.)

Why do I say it's magical? Because things have a way of changing over night. A couple of months ago, I walked in one morning after class, only to discover that the menu had been completely overhauled, the interior design had changed, and the uniforms had changed color. It completely unnerved me, because the store hadn't looked that way the night before, nor had I seed any indication that it would be changed around. Now that's a pretty nifty trick!

And just yesterday I stopped in for some chicken and rice after school...and promptly discovered that KFC now charges 10% tax on every purchase. At least, they charge foreigners 10% tax on every purchase--as if I don't already pay 10% taxes on income, and two-to-ten times whatever locals pay at every establishment I patronise. In addition to the exorbitant visa fees I have to pay just to live in the country, as well as the excessive traffic fines that only white people seem to get slammed with.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I really have developed a persecution complex...because on some days, it really does feel like everyone's out to take advantage of my wallet. KFC is not helping with this one.

Butterflies, I Love Them

My sister is afraid of butterflies. But I think they're wonderful.

I think they're so wonderful that I actually dropped everything this morning to comfort and rescue a hurt butterfly missing a wing.

I've taken him to my house, where he will be protected and well-fed on a steady diet of sugar water. He was too pretty to just leave there to get stomped on by children. I guess I have a new pet.

Hello Katie....

I'll see you in hell, Katie.

December First: The Debrief

Some concluding thoughts on my 30 day November challenge.

First, I am surprised that I actually managed to do it without flaking out (for the most part). I know I had an incident that completely turned me off for several days, and I'm just not going to count it. I wrote 29/30 entries, and dammit, that's good enough for me.

I am also aware that about 1/3 of my entries for the month of November have no value whatsoever; I updated simply because I said I would at the end of each day. If I were going to blog at a similar frequency in the future, I'd probably just leave that stuff out and update 3-5 times per week. Like I said, most of my life isn't well-written anecdote or adventure. My life is just boring, and all I do is complain about it on some days. So, sorry if I turned you off at any one time. Not my intent, I assure you.

I had fun with it a lot, actually, although I essentially had to make the blog my first priority in the evenings, which wasn't always nice when I had papers to grade, or if I was feeling dead-tired.

Anyway, it's hardly over now (unless I get sick again, or die, or something). I'll keep updating, but I'll try to leave out the lame stuff. Rephrase that: I'll try to leave out the stuff that's even lamer than the stuff I don't leave out.

Fair enough?

Day 30: The Maginot Line

I have a daily ritual at my school. Every day before my evening class, I like to sit on the terrace on the roof and watch the sun set. I usually try to eat a snack and plan my next class, or grade papers from the previous class if I happen to be ahead of schedule that day.

Today I went up to the roof and discovered that a gate has been put along the walkway to the terrace. It had a massive padlock on it. It was very clear that there would be no more terrace-sitting, today or ever again.

Apparently, a student became suicidal and threatened to jump off the roof several days ago. Although she was dissuaded from jumping, the school decided gates with massive padlocks on them would solve the problem of suicide.

This reminds me that one time in high school when the administration told us that if students were prevented from wearing black trench-coats, that would prevent any Columbine-style copy-cat attacks. Issues of bullying, gun-ownership, contemporary US values, and the role of violence in society were not discussed, but that was ok--preventing black trench-coat ownership would prevent senseless massacres.

Yeah, it was stupid. Take it from one who habitually plotted the murder of all her peers--and never wore a black trench-coat.

Day 29: Ask Me About My Day

The events you are about to read are a normal occurrence for me.

I had a house guest coming over today--something I like to do is help travelers to Phnom Penh because I personally know how much it sucks to be broke with nowhere to stay.

I told myself I'd clear a place for him when I came home from work today...and when I came home from work today, I promptly fell asleep for two hours. When I woke up, it was nearly three o'clock...it might have been earlier if I hadn't spent an hour at KFC trying to get the internet to work. (And I paid for food today and everything...damn you KFC!!!)

Anyway, that meant I had to go to work, which started at 3:30. But because I had to get that guy this evening, I called off my evening class, first. Then I went to work.

On my way in to work, I stopped for a sandwich. While I was waiting for the sandwich, I checked my email one more time...in which the guy said he was gonna stay at another place.

By this time, I was late for work, my house was dirty, I was still half asleep, I had cancelled my other class, and now there was no legitimate reason for any of it!

LOL, so I just went home early to grade more exams. Except when I came home, there was a power outage, so that's why I've been sitting in the internet cafe for the last two hours.

Yay Randomness!!

Day 28: An Endless Cycle of Suffering

Sometimes things don't always go according to plan. Today, I sat at my favorite guesthouse for nearly an hour without managing to get any food. Although the couple who came after I did got their food 35 minutes later, the kitchen staff didn't see fit to fry me up some veggies before I had to take off for work. So I had to go to class hungry.

I hate when this happens, and I'm grateful that this has actually been the first incident of restaurant laziness during my thyroid time. There were days when I simply would have keeled over without an enormous meal every 3 hours...I hope those days are gone forever. I hope.

Anyway, skipping lunch pretty much screwed me up for the next 12 hours or so...so here's yesterday's entry a bit late. I know I keep updating a day late. I keep feeling too tired to go to an internet cafe after work (especially after I skipped a meal yesterday), so I have to instead do it by stealing internet from KFC in the morning. As a female, my thyroid symptoms are heavily dependent on the time of month, and I've just reached a really bad time--just like where I was at the start of November. Dammit.

Day 27: Not Adventure

I told you I'd walk around town today, and take pictures of some stuff that I saw. Well, I did, and I did. It wasn't some sort of great adventure. Actually all I did was go out for lunch, so this entire entry is kind of lame.

Below, you see Norodom Boulevard, where I live. I look at this every day when I come out of the house. Usually there are more cars, though.

Every day, I pass by one of the banks that apparently isn't responsible for the current global financial crisis: Sacombank:

I walk down this street sometimes to get to one of four internet cafes that I patronize; also my favorite restaurant, The Blue Dolphin, is down here.

And thus I went to the Blue Dolphin for lunch. Always delicious, always at a reasonable price. I chose to buy Pumpkin Soup today, which is something new for me. And like everything else in the restaurant, it holds to a general level of awesomeness.

Pumpkin soup.

After that, I didn't want to go home, so I just kept walking. I walked straight through the red gate and into the pagoda (or monastery).

Normally, I have reservations about entering other people's religious property. This probably comes from my general upbringing as well as all the time I spent in the Emirates where it is illegal for a non-Muslim to so much as set foot in a mosque--or for that matter, touch the Qur'an. I find that the height of hypocrisy given the way most "Muslims" in that country behave...but I guess Cambodians are much more reasonable than those douchebags. I even saw monk robes hanging from the shutter:

On the other side of the pagoda is riverside. Shit, I had found myself on riverside.

If you're like me, you make it a rule never ever to go there, because you don't like being hunted down by tuk-tuk drivers, motodops, beggars, sunglasses vendors, small children, and prostitutes like a winter fox. But then, most people aren't like me.

Riverside

Riverside

Riverside

Sometimes, though, I like to sit on this bench that Sacombank put along the river, and I like to stare at nothing for a time. Actually, I like to watch them build that enormous building for the rich and powerful on the opposite side of the river, in the same place where I was going to put Washington DC once I gained godlike powers.

After brooding over the fact that Washington DC will never be next to Phnom Penh, I went home. Down this road which I take every day.

This is my favorite road ever!

And I got home in time to begin the search for a new apartment! Yay, eating lunch out on a Sunday afternoon!!

Day 26: Sweet Dreams are Made of These

I think tomorrow, I'd like to walk around town for a few hours with a camera to show you what sorts of stuff I look at every day. Some of it might be very different and third-world looking. Other things might be eerily close to home. But it depends on whether or not I get another spell where I just want to lie in bed with my eyes closed and my body aching, like I did today.

You know what else I'd like to do? Take some karate classes. I am seriously aware that it's only a matter of time before someone tries to rob or attack me. Also, I saw some asshole abusing a woman last night, and there was really nothing I could do. This must change.

You know what else I'd like? A motorbike. I plan to buy one, eventually...but it'll be so nice to be able to go places quickly, or without having to argue the cost or just walking along with every moto- and tuk tuk driver in the city trying to solicit my patronage. I'm trying to save money for this.

You know what else? I'd like to rearrange the planet so that Washington DC is right next to Phnom Penh. The only thing that would make my life more perfect here (besides an end to dengue-fever-bearing mosquitos) would be if Washington DC were on the other side of the river. Also, that you had to ride a balloon to get there.

These are my grand dreams. I hope one day to realize them.

Day 25: Why I Will Never Be Able to Hold Down A Real Job

I regret to inform you that it is once again exam week. I had to fail a student today, who blithely decided it was time to pull out his cell phone and start flipping through it, mid-exam. He said his brother had sent him a text message. Despite the fact that I repeatedly said never to do this for any reason, and despite the fact that he signed a waiver that says being caught with anything that can be used for cheating will give you an automatic zero, he still thought I was going to think this was OK. It wasn't.

I told you how women in authority are.

Now I have lots and lots of papers to grade over the next 48 hours. But lest you think I am going to complain about that, I'd actually like to tick off a few reasons why I will never be able to hold down a job in the real world, or even work at another institution.

• I have no "boss" per se, other than the head of department, and our interactions are generally limited to him asking if I'd like to cover another class
• I have a three hour lunch break, guaranteed
• I often start 10 minutes late and/or leave early, and it doesn't matter as long as I teach them what they need to know
• I control my own curricula beyond the requisite textbooks--and if I don't have any creative ideas, I can just go straight out of the book
• I can call in sick at the last minute and not catch any hell for it
• I can enforce or not enforce whatever rules I want
• I can gab away for 90 minutes about absolutely nothing and call it a lesson
• I can force people to write outlines with titles like "Monsters: An Identification Guide" or "Bombs: We Can Prevent Them from Exploding"
• We can do zany things like draw pictures, put on plays, and hold classroom olympics
• I don't have to have to call anyone "Sir" or "Ma'am" or tolerate any rudeness
• Paperwork consists of signing the attendance sheet (which is also how they know to pay me for working that day)
• "Going home early" is an incentive to make people work harder, faster.

So you can see why I sometimes ask myself: How will I ever be able to hold down another job?

The answer: I WON'T.

Now, if only I could get more ink from that durn bureaucracy...

Day 24: Day Twenty Four

If you were expecting an entry yesterday, sorry. I didn't feel like sitting there in an internet cafe last night racking my brains for an entry when there was an entire city around me that needed to be walked through and looked at. I developed writer's block and had to leave. That's the one problem with me feeling better again--I can't sit still.

Several people have suggested that the apparently rude behavior by an elderly British gentleman was actually because he "liked" me. Now I have to hold that in extreme disregard. I'm sure nobody goes to Cambodia to hit on oversized, middle-aged Western women. I'm also sure that my arrogant standoffishness, my abrasively grim mindset and my stony apathy, combined with the strong likelihood of my already being attached, do not make me much of a prospect. A cute, smiling Khmer girl I ain't.

On the other hand, rather than continue the charade of rudeness, the elderly British gentleman has since contrived a charade of niceness by continuing to ask me awkward questions in between class times. I kind of thought he was plotting against me...but maybe the others are right, who knows?

This is probably the right time to note, there is a psychological disease prevalent amongst Western expats here that I have best heard described as "Delusional Hotness Syndrome". Those who spend their free time in girly bars know about this. To a degree, even I know about it, because for some reason the local men here are very friendly with me...TOO friendly. Normally, in every other country on earth, the menfolk keep away from me--so I can tell you, living in this country is bound to distort anyone's field of reality.

My only question is, Just who is delusional about whom in this particular situation?

Some days you just gotta wonder about people.

*I used that picture of Zanarkand because it looks like Phnom Penh, okay? Not because I like Final Fantasy X. Okay?

Day 23?

I have finally ended treatment for H. Pylori, which is good because the medication has made my mouth taste like a combination of vomit and aspirin for the last 10 days straight. I'd be so happy for a day without any physical suffering.

There's not that much else to report.

I Still Don't Know What Day It Is: An Update

Well, I had an interesting turn of events today.

As soon as I finished writing about why I'm not blogging, I went home and checked One Last Place--my wardrobe. Now, I don't see why a ring would be in my wardrobe, but I looked anyway.

And guess what? I didn't find the ring. But I did find the $3.00 in riels that I was sure had been ripped off. Apparently, I did the responsible thing and put them inside a small medicine chest, which I normally keep toothbrushes in. I don't know how they got there--I have no memory of doing that, but I guess it was over a month ago.

That, of course, raises the tantalizing possibility that no one actually took my ring. I've accidentally swept the ring into the trash on at least one other occasion, and it's possible I did that again without noticing, somehow. Although I have a distinct memory of hurriedly shoving it between some other things, it is possible I didn't do that when I thought I did. Like I said, it's been a month.

So I must concede that the ring is equally likely to be missing due to my own negligence than due to thievery. Although I still wish I had the ring, I'd rather it belong to a garbage picker than a thief.

Because I can now entertain the possibility that no one ripped me off, the storm clouds have lifted. Vengeance need not be mine; I lay my weapons down. I am at peace.

And the ring may yet turn up, who knows?

Day Whatever: Screw Blogging

I haven't blogged for the last several days, because frankly, the only things that were going to spew from my fingertips were hate-filled diatribes and invective against Cambodian society. So I guess I lost my 30-Day Challenge.

I'm still pretty upset about the ring. Some guy got a shitload of money for it, at my expense, and I hope for his sake that I never find out who he is.

I've already talked to the landlady--I did even before my last entry. She told me to double check everything in my room and report back.

I tried talking my friend Thearea into becoming a mole and finding out who took it and where they sold it...but he's too conflict averse. And I can't do anything about it myself, seeing that I'm a non-Khmer-speaking white girl.

My only other option is going to the police, which will of course cost me more than the ring is even worth in financial and (possibly) sexual favors. I've been strongly cautioned against it.

So, as you can see, I'm pretty much stuck accepting the fact that some turd made off well at my expense. That's a lot easier said than done, and I am bitter.

I'll blog again whenever I get my sense of humor back.

Day 19: The Bastards Stole from Me!

Well, some serious shit hit the fan today.

Remember how I said I noticed that about $3.00 in riels were missing, yesterday? I'm not gonna beat around the bush: I was robbed. I know that, because my heirloom gold diamond ring is also missing from my apartment.

I know you're going to say, "You need to be more careful with your things, Holyrockthrower." Just like my mom. Well, the truth is a little more complex than that.

I did in fact take everything of value with me to the downstairs apartment, or else I locked it up in my drawers, just in case. The exception was the mass of 100-riel bills, which frankly I'm glad someone stole, seeing that each bill was worth about 2.5 cents. The other exception was the gold ring--it wouldn't fit on my finger, since my finger was more puffy and swollen than it used to be. Because I was in a hurry at the time, I wedged it between some things on my dresser.

I was told specifically that I would be gone for exactly two weeks while the people replaced the stairs. REPLACED THE STAIRS. That means they literally demolished the steps; no one could really go up or down; even if they did, my door was double locked and, like my windows, was covered in iron bars. I and my landlady are the only folks with a key; everything would be safe and sound, I was reassured.

That was before my landlady decided to remodel the upstairs apartment (without notifying me). Thus, my apartment was left open and vulnerable. Thank God, I had all my electronics and RMB locked up with the keys thrown away!

As I see it, a total of five people were working in my apartment:

1. A guy replacing the toilet and sink.
2. Another guy replacing the toilet and sink.
3. A cleaner.
4. My landlady's daughter.
5. My landlady.

One of the above is thus the guilty party. I strongly suspect it was not my landlady or her family, but just as I don't want want to point fingers about this, I also don't hold anyone above suspicion.

This event is certainly not the end of the world, but it is irritating. I don't actually put that much stock in material possessions--I'm less upset that the ring is gone than I am by the fact that it happened.

Mostly, I feel very sad and disappointed by it. Mind you, what I thought was sadness erupted into extreme rage against my friend when he gave me the "naïve American" lecture. Frankly, I'm not naive. If anything, I'm cynical, and tired of being taken advantage of and treated like a walking ATM. It doesn't matter! We can take anything we want! She's obscenely wealthy!!

As machines, ATMs have no compassion or mercy; right now, this ATM is truly, truly afraid of what she might do to the next person who asks for money. Because understand me: Beyond the comfortable middle-class salary (by Cambodian standards, not American standards) I am paid as a teacher, I have nothing. Nothing. No family, no friendships, no car, no motorbike, no trust in mankind, no health. I don't even have the money to go back to America, which I very badly want to do right now.

Day 18: Homecoming

Sorry if you were expecting a post yesterday. I have a thyroid problem. Although I have regained 100% energy (most of the time), I have episodes every day of random hypothyroid symptoms--hunger, migraines, puffy eyes, sleepiness, spaciness, or an aching body, to name just a few. Last night, my body suddenly decided it couldn't maintain it's normal temperature, and I started overheating. This was also at the time of the evening when it's suddenly warmer inside the internet cafe than it is outside...I had to leave, mid-entry. The heat was unbearable.

What I wanted to do was write about things that are not related to anger. I've been wanting and needing to write this all week, actually, but I felt I had more pressing concerns about my day-to-day life. I was literally praying all day that nothing remotely of interest would happen today so I could make note of the fact that I have finally moved back into my apartment. (Because, yes, I actually think the story about New Zealand nuns and the one about the marker are more important than a small thing like moving my apartment.)

I actually moved back in on Sunday night (after my vacation ended, so I couldn't even sleep in the next day, lol). I guess they figured I was complaining about the ground-floor apartment--I wasn't really; I was perfectly inclined to stay on the bottom floor. But I had left half my stuff upstairs, including a very sizeable amount of RMB--and after almost four weeks, I was starting to get antsy about it being out of my direct possession for so long. I REALLY WANTED IT BACK.

So my landlady's daughter got some guys to pull all my stuff up to the top floor on ropes. When I walked back inside, I discovered that my apartment had been totally remodelled while I was gone--my kitchen was rearranged! The refrigerator, washing machine and dryer had been all moved around.

My furniture was rearranged!

It's more cozy this way!

MY BATHROOM WAS REARRANGED!

I have to say, I love, love, love the tiling on the floor!

While everything is all squeaky clean and awesome, and all my possessions are in tact (except for the $3.00 worth of 100 riel notes I left on a shelf, grr), I somehow wish I'd just stayed downstairs.

You see, every time I walk into my old apartment, I get blasted with an intolerable wave of melancholy. It can be triggered by something as simple as seeing the TV being a different color than downstairs, or the buttons on the fan being in a different place. I can't tolerate the melancholy! I can't even be in my apartment anymore because it's so utterly depressing. Although it annoyed and frustrated me at the time, I miss all the people downstairs, and all their noises, too, somehow.

I'm at a loss to explain it, but I think this may have something to do with the fact that I was so sick here for so long. Being here reminds me of sickness, dying, suffering, and isolation. As cozy and remote as it is on my penthouse apartment, it's definitely time to move on.

Day 17: Something I Have Trouble Dealing With

Sorry to bombard you with yet another post expressing anger and annoyance towards the status quo. You must think I walk around in a constant state of rage or something. Well, I do. But I am in fact much happier here than I'm probably coming across--happy enough that I just bought a visa for another whole year!

That said, each day seems to be punctuated by at least one retarded thing, and (other than fighting with people all the time) I basically have no other channel to vent than this blog.

Sometimes my belongings get misplaced. I have to shift the stuff in my bag from morning class material to afternoon class material every day, and occasionally, something gets left out of my bag. Today it was my marker--can't teach sentences and vocab without a marker. Upon realizing this, I went to the supply room.

I don't know what it is about women in authority, but whenever they are there, they inevitably result in an unreasonable, unmovable, close-minded, authoritarian jackass who believes that Rules are God. I'm a woman myself, and I feel this way! I try super-hard not to ever, ever behave in such a manner (although I'm sure I fail).

To make a long story short, the supply lady refused to let me borrow a new marker, stubbornly repeating some bullshit about her only being able to give them out at the start of the term.

Me: "But I can't teach without a marker."
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."
Me: "I said, I can't teach without a marker. I can't do my job."
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."
Me: "So what am I supposed to do about my students?"
Lady: "You can only get two markers, only at the start of every term."

By this time, I was starting to become rather angry and disgusted, as well as uncomfortable with the fact that I was, once again, starting to get angry and disgusted at the very people I work for. In my mind, I had two options:

1. Explode
   
2. Take a leaf out of my manager's book and frog march the little bitch to class so she could explain why the school was failing to educate them adequately.

I sincerely wish I had done one of the two. Instead I went to the English Department to see if they could lend me one. Of course, being who and what they are, they tried to direct me to the Supply Lady.

Me: "I was already there. They won't give me a new marker."
Them: "Go to Supplies and Logistics."
Me: "THEY WON'T GIVE ME ONE."
Them: "Go to Supplies and Logistics."
Me: "THEY WON'T GIVE ME ONE."

In the end, a visiting official had to give me his dry erase marker. It was very embarrassing--for all parties involved I hope, and not just me.

But this is honestly the way things are run here. You're supposed to kow-tow to your boss, or whoever is an "authority" simply because they're an authority. Their competence doesn't matter; you exist to serve them. Maybe this is just because I'm an American, but I CAN'T ACCEPT IT. I especially can't kow-tow to incompetent Supply and Logistics people who don't have any authority over me whatsoever.

Let me put it like this: There's a reason this is a Least Developed Country despite the enormous amounts of money that the international community and South Korea pour in. To be fair, the Khmer Rouge did a fair number on this country too--which also happened for a reason. Probably didn't have anything to do with unreasonable, arrogant authority figures, though.

Day 16: Tough Crowd!

I have two morning classes. They're not my favorite classes--one is super-good and quiet, but also rather passive and non-responsive. The second class is junior high school revisited.

Given that most of the students are in their 20s, it's kind of sad that they behave like bratty 7th graders. I will confess my love for them--they're hilarious, responsive, and full of energy. They also love talking--talking when I'm talking, talking when other students are speaking English, talking when writing, talking on the phone, talking during exams...the list goes on.

I can't get them to shut up for more than 20 seconds! I've tried threatening them, sending them home, shouting them down, making them write essays, and separating them. The problems with these strategies are 1) they usually make me laugh, 2) writing just gives them more ideas to talk about, and 3) everyone enjoys everyone else's company, so moving them around only excites them further.

For weeks, I've been threatening to walk out, and today I finally had to. There is just no repressing them! It's so frustrating! If they don't want to behave like students, I have no business behaving like their teacher.

It's also kind of sad, when there are so many kids in this country who would die to get an education here--but can't afford to. Meanwhile, I'm busting my butt trying to silence self-indulgent brats whose Daddy paid their way in, and who would rather play on their iPhone and gab away about clothes than listen to me. Why? Because they never had to work for a damn thing in their life!

All I can say about it is, look around you ladies and gentlemen--Asia is rising, and kids like this are the future rulers of our world. And that is going to be a tough crowd to live with.

Day 15: Some People Are A-holes and I Have the Proof

I was sitting at school today, waiting for class to begin. It was my evening class, and I was beginning to feel the hypothryoid fatigue and spaciness coming on.

From somewhere behind me, and older British gentleman suddenly materialized.

"Hello. How are you?" he said to no one in particular. Given that he just came out of what I assume was a classroom or teachers' lounge and was looking at a young female student when he said it, I was rather confused as to who he was talking to, exactly.

Before I could work it out, he said, "That's alright. Don't bother to respond," eyes still fixed on the student...and I still wasn't sure if he was talking to me. And I didn't particularly care. If someone doesn't have the social skills to look at a Western female when addressing her...well...no skin off mine.

After returning from his cubby hole, my friend returned to me, smiling. "So how're you doing today?" he asked very sweetly.

Certain that he was addressing me this time around, I said, "Oh I'm good. How're you?"

With that, the douche turned and stormed out of the room, rather viciously knocking several students out of the way and slamming the door as he went.

(If you're Cambodian and reading this blog--no, that's not normal "Western" behavior. It's snarky, unhealthy British behavior, which is why, as an American, I sometimes resent being told about "Western culture" as if it were a uniform entity.)

I guess he thought he was putting me in my place--but rather than feeling shocked, or stung, or offended, I mostly didn't give a rat's ass. If anything, I was kind of amused by his British-style self-righteousness. I am also amused that I have the power to ruin someone's evening without even opening my mouth.

You run into a lot of folks like that around these parts. While the vast majority of my experiences with my co-teachers are positive and simply excellent (I mean this from the bottom of my heart), there's always that element of the pompous, embittered white male living in Cambodia for all the wrong reasons. My friend this evening may have been one of those.

Day 14: Oh, The People You Meet!

A funny thing happened on the way to work.

An older New Zealand woman stopped me by asking if I spoke English. (This is what I mean about people not thinking I can speak English. They don't even listen to me and the way my voice is. They just judge me on sight--people with black and white hair obviously don't speak English. Except with funny accents.) Anyway, I told her I spoke English.

She then requested a photograph based on the following rationale:

1. I'm GORGEOUS.

2. I'm DIFFERENT.

3. She just took a photograph of a laughing policeman.

I don't understand that rationale, but, despite the fact that I was already super-late for class because I had fallen asleep this afternoon, I accepted her request.

After taking an inordinate amount of time to adjust the aperture, distance, and focus, she took my picture. Then she had me pose again and again. Then she stopped photographing me, but launched into a long-winded, and very animated, story about New Zealand nuns. I am largely mystified as to why she told me the story, but I did learn the following.

• She's backpacking across South East Asia
• Her husband is alcoholic
• She bought three books at a rummage sale that somehow led her to nuns
• Nuns drive just like everyone else.

Sure, I came a half an hour late to class, but aren't people awesome?

Day 13: The Instant Karma Award

Yesterday, I said something about, "I refuse to accept any karma for the cat getting hit by the motorbike". Apparently, God/The Fates/The Universe don't see it the same way, because as soon as I left the internet cafe last night, I was promptly run down my a cyclo driving on the wrong side of the road.

It didn't hurt that much, but it did make all the surrounding simpletons burst into waves and waves of derisive laughter. Karma is a very real thing, you see.

Today, I got treated for H. Pylori, which is a bacterial infection responsible for the ulcers I have been experiencing for the last 3 or so years. It was sort of a ridiculous experience.

Me: I have H. Pylori and need treatment.

Pharmacist: *looks up H. Pylori on the internet*

In the end, though, she found exactly what I needed, so I walked away with a bag full of accurately-prescribed antibiotics and antacids. I appreciated her diligent research skills, even if she probably should have already known what it was.

There is one more thing I should mention, and that is that I don't know when I get to move back into my apartment. I spoke to her yesterday, and apparently, my landlady has no intention of putting me back upstairs before I leave. That wouldn't be much of a problem if she also wasn't trying to whore out the bottom apartment while I'm still living there. She's already shown two other people around. And I have reason to think my apartment was entered three other times for similar reasons.

I'm not quite sure where they want me; perhaps I'm not supposed to be here at all.

Day 12, Part 2: Always Look Before Crossing

Today I saw a cat get run over by a motorbike.

I was walking home from dinner. Apparently, my presence disturbed a yellow street cat, which, convinced that I was about to tear it to shreds, ran out into the street and directly under an oncoming motorbike. Now THAT'S falling out of the frying pan.

The moto driver slammed on his breaks, but still ran over it. Twice. The cat just kept running. Never have I experienced such a strange combination of horror, humor, and sadism. I probably shouldn't laugh, but it looked fairly ridiculous.

And that, children, is why you don't run into the street in a panic, and why you look both ways if you do.

*I refuse to accept any karmic responsibility for that cat's life or death.

Friendship: Making A Bully Out of Me

This is my friend Thearea. I know, that looks like it says, "The Area". But you say it TEER-ee-uh.

He's a tuk-tuk driver. He's the first person I met when I walked out of Okay Guesthouse on 18 October 2010 to get to an interview at ELT Institute before 10 am. He asked if I needed a ride, and I said yes.

I found it strategic to rely on the same driver for my multiple trips to and from school each day--so for the first two weeks, I went to school and back four times each day with Thearea. I had saved his phone number, so after I moved into my apartment, I just called him up whenever I needed tuk-tukage--for example, if I had guests who wanted to visit the Killing Fields and such.

I can tell you one thing--if you want to live in Phnom Penh, it would do you well to befriend tuk-tuk driver. The guy almost literally saved me multiple times during my long illness; he's got the exact layout of the city memorized; his English surpasses that of most of my students as well. He also taught me all the bad words in Khmer, so no one can say anything bad to me without my knowing about it.

Tuk-tuk drivers, while annoying, can also be your source of information about virtually anything. They are your ear to the ground. Your key to success. Make sure you get to know one.

Personally, Thearea is kind of a laid back guy--he always talks about how awesome his future will be, but I suspect he'll be a tuk-tuk driver for life. It suits his personality. He started out as a peasant who somehow survived the Khmer Rouge as a small child. He came to the city and worked as a policeman, but policemen only get paid $30 per month--you have to make all your money through corruption, and he's not corrupt. Then he became a motodriver. Then he became a tuk-tuk driver.

My only problem with Thearea is that he seems to have fallen in love with me--a feeling I do not reciprocate in the slightest. Not only am I not attracted to the guy, not only is he twice my age, but I am also essentially immune to romance and falling in love. The guy is a good friend of mine, but it's not like THAT. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.

Luckily, he's very conflict-averse, so a gruff "You lookin' at me, little man?" is enough to make him back off for several weeks.

Ah, friendship: making a bully out of me.

Day 11: Grading Papers and Killing Geckos

Because I want to save money for this year's visa and a motorbike, I decided yet again to hang around the house and do nothing. As a consequence, halfway through the day, I suddenly became painfully, unfathomably bored. So bored that it hurt.

I decided to solve this problem by doing what I should have done a week ago--grade exams. Now, I really don't like grading exams. It's just hours and hours of reading page after page of bad English and assigning it an arbitrary number based partly on the student's skill in English, and partly upon my own whim. It's just a boring, laborious process, and honestly it's the sort of thing that makes me realize I don't want to be a teacher forever.

There are some things that make grading worthwhile, however. One of the sections on the exam was "dictation", which means I read a sentence while the students try to accurately copy what I say. One of the sentences was "You can't hitchhike". We definitely discussed the word "hitchhike"--they thought it was such a cool word to say; they kept repeating it and giggling. Yet for some reason, a week later when the exam came around, they seemed incapable of remembering it.

So I read 27 sentences that said the following:

• You can't hicharge/kitchen/ketchack/pigcheak
• You can't hit chuck.

You can kind of understand how they might write down what they hear. But not all of them make as much sense phonetically:

• You can't eat cheese.
• You can keep change.

And my personal favorite:

• You can't hit shit.

Like trying to spell "Qaddafi", it lightens the mood.

On a less light note, however, I would like to take this time to apologize to the small gecko which I inadvertently killed this morning. I was on my way downstairs--I told you how my temporary apartment is dark and sunless--and I didn't see him there. He apparently didn't see my descending foot, either. And thus his little life was snuffed out.

I found him smushed against one of the steps after I turned on the light. I feel kinda bad for the little guy.

Days 9 and 10: More Nothing!

Sorry, I didn't post last night even though I said I would. Something funny happened that stopped me from writing:

Around 4 pm last night, I was suddenly overcome by an uncontrollable urge to go to sleep. So I did. And I slept and slept and didn't go to the internet. That was about my entire day yesterday: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Today was more of the same. I didn't actually take a trip anywhere, because I will have to renew my visa once the holiday is over. And I can't afford to pay to stay here AND pay to have fun. So I just played video games all day--I can now officially say that I HATE FINAL FANTASY X.

Well, I'll try to think of some better material to discuss next time--I have lots to talk about, I'm just too scattered right now to remember what it all is.

Day 8: SOS

I can't believe I've actually kept this thing updated for a week now.

Anyway, not much more to report just now. Same old shit.

I haven't been going to school this week, because it's a holiday. That's right, this week is the famed "Water Festival" although it appears to have been cancelled this year. I don't know anything about it; I've been doing nothing but playing video games all day, and I don't care.

I can tell you the way it was last year; it was a hassle. I couldn't even leave the house without getting stuck in crowds--I hope this will not be the case again.

Also, they've totally repaired the Evil Danger Steps leading to my apartment, but now they've decided to fix the Perfect Safe Steps below them...for no real reason, other than the fact that they're on the other side of my temporary apartment, so they can give me another few weeks of jackhammering.

It may be the right time to take a vacation.

Day 7: Grocery Shopping, or I Now Hate Colgate

I went to the grocery today. Actually, I go to the grocery every day because it's an excuse to buy things and not sit around the house. But today I specifically needed soap.

When I moved down to my current apartment, they told me it would be for two weeks. So I brought two weeks' worth of soap. On Wednesday, it will have officially been three weeks, and I am out of soap. So I headed over to the grocery.

I went to a new one today. I am forever looking for new supermarkets so that I can find ever-cheaper prices on things. I went to Pencil Mart this time, which is about as close to me as my regular grocery. (I must now remark that inside Pencil Mart, I was disappointed to see that Colgate has officially obtained a monopoly in Cambodia. I like a very specific brand of toothpaste, and it's not Colgate. Yet within the time that I've come here, Colgate has displaced all other brands, and I can't get ahold of my special toothpaste. RAWR. SCREW MACHIAVELLIAN CORPORATE PIRACY.)

Moving on--although I came for soap, I bought some other random things (although not toothpaste). If you look at the photo below, it will tell you what sorts of things white people living in Cambodia like:

Just kidding. I abhor stereotypes of white people. This is just the over-priced Western junk that I felt like buying on impulse today. Normally I like to eat much healthier stuff, and my food-stuffs are generally "culturally neutral".

I also bought this:

I don't have an oven to make cookies, but I promised myself that when I was grown up, I would do nothing but eat cookie dough and play video games. As an adult, I am hereby going to fulfill my childhood dream. Betty Crocker, here I come!!

Day 6: The American Economy Is Not Fine

Nothing of importance happened to me today, so I thought I would share with you the following example of my monetary angst:

I was coming back from class the other evening, when I decided to go for some ice cream. Stopping into the Blue Pumpkin and devouring an "America Cup" sundae, I discovered upon leaving that they now cost $3.75. The week prior, it cost $3.00. That's kind of a huge increase! I'm not going to be buying them anymore. I can't afford it.

The same thing with medicines. Albendazole goes up by about 30 cents each time I buy it (which is every couple of months).

I have lived in Cambodia for only one short year, and already there are things I can no longer afford to buy. If wages were going up 30 cents every two months, this might be ok. But wages haven't risen since 1997. Just like life in America.

Well folks, that's the American economy. Don't tell me it's fine when the dollar is hyperinflating. Don't tell me it's recovering when I get poorer day by day. It's getting to the point where I'm not going to be able to stay here too much longer; I don't even know what's going to happen to the local folks who have even less money than me.

Day 5: Does This Strike You As Being The Height of Rudeness?

I found out this morning that I have a doorbell. I know because I ripped from my slumberous state by my landlady pressing it four times in a row.

This was around 9 am. It was the first day in three weeks I wasn't brutally awakened by jack-hammering underneath my bedroom at 7am, and all I wanted to do was rest my hypothyroid-wracked body for as long as possible.

But this was not to be. The landlady continued to ring the doorbell at 10-second intervals, while I struggled to pull myself out of bed. Scarcely conscious and my face ridiculously puffy, I fumbled for a long time trying to put on clothes, the whole time being unnecessarily goaded by the incessant ringing of the doorbell.

Finally, I managed to stagger downstairs. Now my apartment is as dark as a crypt--there are no windows, except for the front door, which is both tinted and covered in curtains. So when I opened the door, my look of evil was completely lost when the sunlight came streaming in and I had to shield my face like a dying vampire.

Landlady then barges in, showing Prospective Tenant what the place looks like. Now, I don't like to be intruded on under the best of circumstances, let alone after being forcibly denied sleep, then blinded. But I especially resent it when all my underclothes are lying around and garbage and bloody tampons are sitting there in varying states of decomposition.

Prospective Tenant was about as horrified I was offended. "I'm sooo sorry!" he told me. "It's so early! We'll go now, I don't really need to see this apartment right now."

Me: "I AM ALREADY AWAKE."

As he checked the layout (i.e., polked around my bedroom, where I keep all my money), the landlady kept repeatedly saying "Sorry" to me as well. It was far, far too early (and I was too far, far too pissed off) to respond with a symbolic "that's OK". Prospective Tenant left very quickly, apologizing profusely for making me go through all of it.

Given that they're the ones who put me in the bottom apartment to begin with--given that they're the ones for whom refurbishing a room takes 3 weeks of jack-hammering with no progress whatsoever--given that they tried to whore out the apartment while I was still living there--I think I ought to get at least 10% off next month's rent. Don't you?

I wasn't very happy about it, that's for sure.

Day 4: Exams

We're taking exams this week in all General English classes.

You'd think exams would be easy--you don't have to prepare anything, you don't need to think of a lesson plan, you don't have to talk and demonstrate. You just sit there for an hour and a half and chill.

Truth be told, I find exams more annoying than not--you have to show up early in order to control the positions of the desks and which ones different students sit in; you have to make everyone respect the fact that silence means silence; and you're stuck with nothing to do for 1.5 hours but carefully watching them and stopping them from cheating.

I like to slip off my shoes and sit on the teacher's desk, resting my excruciating hawkish gaze on each and every one of them. No one cheats in my classes--and gets away with it. I've failed students for it before.

On the other hand, some students aren't incorrigible cheaters. Many do their own work because they are incredibly perfectionistic and terrified of making a mistake. It's almost funny to watch them work. They finish incredibly quickly because they have over-studied all their lives; they then spend the next hour frantically re-reading and re-re-reading their answers, rooting out any mistakes, actual or perceived, and becoming increasingly stressed as time goes on.

I find it almost funny in light of the fact that for all their perfectionism, they still make mistakes such as forgetting to capitalize the pronoun "I", forgetting how to use English punctuation, forgetting the -s on 3rd person singular verbs, or just writing trite expressions like "he will be go" or "In Cambodia have many problems." They spend an hour whiting-out and re-writing a paragraph that I'm going to spend 10 seconds reading. There is no forest, only trees.

I shouldn't laugh at them...but my attitude towards academia and test-taking has always been flippant at best. I can assure you I'm not going to grade them on how perfect their letter "d" looks.

And then you get the students who ask bizarre questions. This evening, one of my students asked me, "Teacher, do I have to capitalize a word at the beginning of a sentence?"

Me: "Yes, the first letter is always capitalized."

Student: "But teacher, I don't want to capitalize."

Me: "Then you'll be wrong."

Student: "But do I have to capitalize??"

Me: "If it needs capitalization, do it." (By this time other students are taking advantage of the situation and beginning to exchange whispers).

Student: "But teacher..."

Me: "If it needs capitalization, then capitalize." (Sits stoically and refuses to respond to any further inquiries).

I'm still shaking my head over that one. And I get to go through this every two to four weeks.

Day 3: The Rage Post

It's Day 3 on my November challenge, and within the last hour, the following annoying things have happened to me, in this order:

1. Had an altercation with a student who wouldn't stop talking during the exam. I strictly enforce the No Talking rule, and he just wouldn't obey. Push came to shove, and he wound up storming out of the classroom and crying to the front office about what I tyrant I am.

2. Became massively, unbearably hungry due to a thyroid problem; rage is not far behind.

3. Went to the Garden Center (an overpriced yet low-quality "Western" restaurant) which conveniently ran out of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels, then sold me "chocolate chip cookies" instead...if you want to call those hardened, burnt, bland biscuits with three chocolate chips set superficially in the surface "chocolate chip cookies". I wouldn't charge $1.50 for them even in the US. Because that would be outrageous.

4. Came to Sarpino's Pizzeria. A pair of obnoxious 4-year-old brats are running around attacking each other and random customers with over-sized, noodle-shaped balloons. I guess I'm the only person who's annoyed by that.

5. Had my right earphone go dead on me as I tried to listen to YouTube to block out the obnoxious 4-year-old brats above. What annoys me about this is that I bought them brand new just this Monday from a very legit store, for not a cheap price. Now I have to buy another pair.

6. Discovered that they made the pizzas smaller while simultaneously raising prices. So now I'm still hungry. Nothing can quite take the edge off thyroid hunger, but this is just annoying.

Sorry for the rage. My evenings aren't generally this annoying. You caught me at a bad time, I'm afraid. I'm going to try to head home now without any more shenanigans.

Day 2: Teeching is Fun!

I have now gone to the internet cafe no less than three times today, for all the same reasons as yesterday.

When I wasn't running away from the sounds of construction, I was teaching. Teaching has taught me first-hand what comedians mean when they say, "tough crowd." Some groups of people are just hard to handle, for whatever reason. But I'll save the cross section of my five classes for a future date--believe me, you're gonna hear all about my Gang of Monks, as well as my frustrations with the 20-year-old junior high schoolers in my morning class. But another day.

Today, I had a classroom observation. Usually this means you are under scrutiny for doing something wrong; in my case, I was showing a new teacher how to teach. I wish I'd been afforded that luxury when I began teaching--instead, I was rather brutally placed in front of Chinese kindergarteners and their vicious mothers, along with an assistant looking on at all times and judging my every move. And I had no idea what I was doing. AWKWARD.

So I'm always glad to help out a newbie. I enjoy mentorship. I'm probably more flattered that they chose me than I should be. (I have a paranoid friend who tried to insist the new teacher in question was a mole designed to judge me; the thought that that might be true hasn't been able to break through the wall of flattery yet.)

I teach for six hours a day, every day; I earn more than a lot of Khmer teachers who work harder than I do under far more deplorable conditions. Yet despite my relative luxury, my salary is low enough, and my skin white enough, that I will never be able to afford to go back to America. That's the thing about EFL--once you begin, you're essentially stuck in it for life. There's really no escape.

Damn, I just depressed myself.

Remember, Remember the Month of November

Hello my readers,

A lot of you have made public and private requests to me that you'd like to hear about my observations on people and my day-to-day life as an EFL teacher and expatriate in Cambodia.

So I thought I'd give a brief update of my life every day for the month of November. Some of it might be trite, dull, or routine. Most of it will not consist of well-illustrated adventure or anecdote. But that's the thing about life: most of it is boring.

So here begins what should be a typical month for me. Keep in mind my thyroid is still rather problematic (i.e., I don't always feel like sitting in front of a computer after a long day's work and I'm still angry at stuff all the time) but I'll do my best to faithfully keep this inglorious basterd updated till November 30.

Right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe. This has been the fourth time inside today--the apartment building I live in is being refurbished, and the sounds of multiple men hammering and drilling and destroying things in the room next to me is sometimes so deafeningly loud I literally have to run out of the house with my hands over my ears and take refuge somewhere else. Given the fact that this generally happens at 7 am on weekends and during lunch hour on weekdays, I don't have a lot of sympathy for this whole operation. The fact that the same thing has been going for the last 3 weeks without much change? All the more so.

The internet cafe will be closing soon, so I must check out till tomorrow.

Girls with Funny Accents

Well-known factoid about me: I'm not a native speaker of English.

That is, I'm not a native speaker of English if you ask the general public. Despite the fact that I was born and raised in Ohio, USA, among a family that migrated to this hemisphere over 400 years ago (from England!), I apparently speak English with a funny accent.

In my work as a cashier, I was daily asked "where I was born" because I "have an accent". It got to the point where I would just start making up stories. "I was born in Palestine." Lol. "My mother is a Romanian refugee and my father is the Saudi Ambassador to New Guinea. I moved around a lot as a kid." Lol.

Okay, English is actually my first and only language, but just no one seems to realize that. Since I have come to Cambodia, this has already happened to me twice (which is a lot considering I've spent the last 9 out of 12 months in virtual isolation).

The first guy was utterly convinced that I am English or Australian (you have no idea how many people think I'm Australian) because I "talk like it." This guy wasn't even a native speaker of English himself! Come on!! Is my voice that obvious?

Some other guy told me I have a distinct French accent when I try to speak Khmer. Me: WTF? I can't even speak French! How is that even possible??

So there you have it. I talk funny, no matter which language I speak.

He...Died?

The news that greeted me this morning was that a certain Libyan with an unspellable last name was executed by his own people after a long uprising. As a History and Middle Eastern Studies major, I have lots of questions about the whole affair, like

1. "Who will take power now? Will it really usher in a democratic era for the Libyan people?"
2. "How come NATO made it a priority to invade Libya but not Syria, where the leadership has been doing comparable (and maybe worse) things for decades?"
3. "How come no one ever reported from Qaddafi's side? We know all about the rebels war effort, but surely the people who supported him were not nameless, faceless video-game enemies? Surely they had their reasons?"
4. "Are we all aware that much of the fighting was divided among pre-existing tribal lines? This won't create any old resentments, will it?"
5. And most importantly, "NOW who am I gonna represent at the Model Arab League?"

Also, I left my shoes outside last night, and someone stole them. That meant I had to go to school barefoot today...dammit.

A Moving Adventure

Sometimes, in the construction of a house, people build staircases badly. My apartment building, for instance, happens to have these Evil Danger Steps which are steep, narrow, and uneven. You basically have to grip the metal railings on both sides if you don't want to die going up and down that particular flight of steps. Unfortunately, I (and other upper residents) must walk up and down them many times each day to get to our apartments.

Sometime over the last year, my landlady and her people realized that we were nearly killing ourselves each and every day. Consequently, the family decided to refurbish them.

I'm the only resident left in the apartment (literally, the only one). I feel the need to stay till January for reasons no one has yet told me, but which I am quite sure exist. So, in order to fix the flight of stairs and still let me remain sheltered, they moved me to the bottom floor apartment.

It's sort of basement-like (moldy; no windows) but it's quite posh in its own way. It's big. And it's cool in every sense of the word.

This is the entry way. It's the only window in the apartment.

It has stuff!

It has an upstairs!

It has stairs to get there!

I get to stay here for two weeks before resuming my old life on the top floor.

I think it's kind of cool.

What Is This?

I have found a tiny beetle-type thing in my water.

I have no idea how it got there. For reasons of my own, I boiled some cooler water the other night. I let it cool on the stove-top overnight and poured it into my metal cup the next day so that I could take my ranitidine. When I came back from school several hours later, I noticed something strange swimming around the bottom of my cup as I drank. It looked like this, but extraordinarily tiny -->.

I am at a loss to explain how it got there, or even what it is. I've seen them swimming around in pond water sometimes.

The problem is, there's no way it could have gotten into my cup:

1. The cup was dry from many weeks of disuse; I scrubbed it clean shortly before I used it, then dried it again.
2. The water was already drinkable, and boiled
3. The tap water is treated; I've certainly never seen small beetles in it before
4. Even if there were something in the tap water, the cup was sitting many meters away from other bodies of water, like the sink and toilet
5. My apartment was locked and the windows closed. Nothing and no one got in or out.
6. I live on the 4th floor of an apartment that is nowhere near a pond

I guess it's possible that it got in the pot of boiled water overnight and I just didn't notice till later...but how? And from where? And what do I do with the little guy now?

This is one of those days that makes you go WTF.

You can see this too, right?
I'm not imagining this thing, right?

This is it up close.

My Anniversary!!

Today is the one-year anniversary of the day I first came to Cambodia: 17 October 2010.

I'm not quite sure how to take the news.

I've been sick for three-quarters of the year; I've had two jobs; I've lost my internet; and now I have even less money than I came with. AND I'M STILL GLAD I CAME TO CAMBODIA. I could shout it from the rooftops all night!

I remember how it felt, flying in after my ordeal with Aston Jining. The relief that hit me with a gust of tropical air as I stepped off the plane at 10 pm, Dara waiting at the entrance. Coming to Okay Guesthouse, glowing golden in the evening air, and having someone to help me up the stairs with my suitcase.

Help, for God Sake! Help, support and kindness from strangers--something completely unheard of in China! I wept with relief and joy in the muggy night; I inhaled the muggy, warm air; and I curled gratefully up in my clean, white 6x8 cell.

Despite the hardships I have undergone, I don't regret my decision to dump China for this. Not for one minute. And I never will.

I don't know what the next year is going to look like--I still suffer from hypothyroid symptoms; my lease expires soon, and I've got no money. But I, Holyrockthrower, shall adventure forth into an uncertain future, unrestrained by fact or fear.

No regrets.

Antacid Trip

Apparently my gastro-intestinal problems in the last entry were an ulcer.

Shortly after writing, all hell broke loose on my stomach. It woke me up that night, contracting as though it were trying to give birth to a small whale. The pressure was such that I was about to throw up, and it kept me awake for several hours. Seeing that this was the 3rd or 4th attack, I called off my morning classes and went to the doctor first thing.

He said there was literally nothing else it could possibly be than a stomach acid problem.

I've had this before, but it was about ten times worse this time around. I didn't realize ulcers could make you that sick. The antacids and acid-blockers are helping me recover now.

Anyway, I'm feeling somewhat better now and probably won't die. See you later! It's time to go drop some antacid!

Criminy! Not again!

Sorry, it's been awhile since I posted. Again.

When I started this blog, I was like, "It's gonna be the BEST BLOG EVER!! I'm gonna post twice a day, all about my life, and IT WILL BE AWESOME!!"

That was before I got slammed with hypothyroidism and lost the ability to care.

Now that's mostly gone, but instead, my internet has been severed. I was using the people's downstairs, and they've all moved out. My landlady offered to share hers, but I know if I get the internet back, I'll never get off it.

I value my freedom as much as I value my right to blog. I'm a recovering internet-addict, and I'm going to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, this means I can only blog at restricted times of the day. In uncomfortable internet cafes. For a price. So that's annoying, and conducive to nonblogging.

Plus, I've been sick again. I'm not sure what it is, but I can tell you where I got it. Ever since last school term, I've been eating at the Happy Guesthouse. My tuk-tuk driver and friend works there, so I patronise the place for lunch. And I really like their fresh fruit and vegetables. And I pick up parasites from them.

Anyway, today as I was going to school, I suddenly got a massive attack of something that felt like I was about to puke. I ran home in horror and fear, so it's cost me $30 of class time, in addition to the ever-inflating price I must spend on albendazole tablets.

Dammit all.