The Dark Time IV: Final Proof I am a Horribly Self-Destructive Person (Sept 2015)

OK, so the tone of this article will be heavily biased because some little old man ruined my day this morning.

I don't know what it is about this place--possibly the accrued years and decades of social abuse and emotional repression--but there are a number of elderly people in this country who could best be described as "assholes".  Also, "bigots".

So I was walking down the street and this old guy comes rushing in my direction.  I actually shifted to the side and stood by, letting him pass, but was that good enough for him?  Oh no.  No, of course not.  He cursed me most evilly in his native language.  No idea what it was he was saying, but it was clearly abusive in nature.

And you know if one person says it, 80% of everyone else is thinking it.  Thus opening a mass of unending hatreds against humanity as a whole.  They are such jerks.  Bigots, racists, jerks.  Selfish, greedy monsters.  I could go on.  All the anger I spent the last year trying to repress has re-opened.  I am NOT in a good mood.  But I digress.



So I managed to break the screen of my computer several weeks ago.  Just the screen.

This computer was a throwaway $150 piece of shit anyway, but it's got my private journal, some artwork, and any number of creative works on it.  Another one gone.

So I took it to the repair shop today, and it's going to cost the equivalent of $400 to get the screen fixed.  Which is about as much money as I earned last month because I have no job security and I'm not likeable enough to get a lot of students (yes, really).  I didn't have the power cord, so I couldn't do anything about it anyway.

Might not be much of a problem, except--and I have no idea how this happened--I somehow managed to throw away my old wallet, which had my credit card, my bank card, and about $1000 worth of cash for the upcoming month.  Right after I got back from Cambodia.

No, I don't know what happened.  No one stole it.  It was with all my stuff; I think I must have put it in one of the multitudes of plastic bags they give you for every single purchase ever in this country...forgotten about it...and assumed it was trash.  A good argument against plastic bags, though I'm pretty sure you just think I'm an idiot.  Fine, I am.

You know what else?  I'm hopelessly self-destructive.  Everything I touch turns to dust and ruin; I'm some sort of "counter"-success, the "example" God puts on this earth to warn everyone.

Don't even tell me "It could be worse" because, goddamn it, I know.  I'm like...struggling for ANYTHING positive to say in this blog anymore...I'm not being "biased against the good in my life" or anything...and I am frankly stumped.  Illness, robbery, neglect, loneliness, depression, and a whole host of other things over the last year I'm trying to update (except my computer).  These entries will involve (among other things) a sociopath, a major depressive crisis, extremely judgemental people at work, and a crap roommate.

The most positive things I could possibly say revolve around the fact that there's candy at the convenience stores...no that's not a delusion, I've held off for months just trying to spin this in a remotely positive manner so I don't have to deal with more abuse from stupid people bitching about how I'm "too negative"...AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HOW I'M COMPLAINING.  YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT I HAVE ENDURED OVER THE LAST FIVE YEARS, SO SHUT UP!  Just shut your fucking mouths.

Also my dad is probably dying of pancreatic cancer but NO ONE IN MY FAMILY CAN BE BOTHERED TO KEEP ME UPDATED.  So if you guys are reading this, you're shit heads.

I'd like to get out of here, but alas.  I have no means to do so anymore and no better career to run to.  Probably I'm psychiatrically incapable of even holding down a regular job at this stage.  I'm not cute and young anymore, so no one will save me (actually, they've been quick to point out exactly how undesirable my age makes me)...it's bad, it's only gonna get worse, and that is my life.  It is utter fucking garbage.  I can tell you, life has pulled me into an undertow, and I'm not sure I'm getting out alive anymore.

I'll update the rest so at least you know why and will see I'm not just being unreasonable.  Of course, you'll tell me I'm being "over dramatic" or "too sensitive" or something.  That's cause you're sitting there in a first world country without a care in the world.  I very seriously say, you may not hear from me again beyond what I am about to tell you.


(Backdated from September 2015, on 20 April 2017)

Did you know...?

Did you know that today, June 18th, is the 200th anniversary of Waterloo, the epic battle in which Napoleon and his armies were destroyed?

Like everyone else, his life was a failure by age 45.  Power and glory are no guarantees.

Like Napoleon, I am also a failure, and all my stuff was destroyed on this day too.  By water, appropriately enough.

I left all my stuff in an apartment here for the last year, as it seemed cumbersome to take to Japan.  It was a cheap basement apartment, and I expected stuff to get a bit mildewy with the elements.

But damn.  Wouldn't you know.  The waters of hell apparently rose and engulfed the entire apartment complex sometime last year.  Two feet of water flooded the area, including my apartment.  And they did their damage.

I unlocked my apartment this morning...and the damage surpassed my worst expectations.  The roof had caved in and fallen on top of my bed...upon which lay the skeleton of a dead rat with it's head in a box of rat poison.

My books--many of which were in top condition--now lay partially decomposed, having been overtaken by a recent flood.  Everything was covered in grit and grime, and when I picked up my PlayStation, I was unhappy with the sheer quantity of roach shit that fell out of it.  I did not neglect to notice they had eaten most of the rubber bits off my controller (?).

So, I took all the games, DVDs, electronics, Arabian perfumes, toys, and clothes I might conceivably need in the future.  All I have to do is clean them off.  And then I guess I'll store them with me in my spaceless room in Japan somehow till I go back to the US.

Dunno.

THAT is what I call Waterloo.  And God.  It sucks.
Three cheers for losing everything you own to water on June 18.

It's also the anniversary of the king's death, which I detrimentally blogged about some time ago.  Up next.

N for Napoleon
N for NOOO...!

Back in Phnom Penh

I am back in Cambodia.  I wish it were permanent; alas, it is not.  I must return to Japan shortly.  I haven't written for a very long time, over a year, because frankly, life has sucked.

It sucked so much worse than it ever did in high school, which I've discovered, really ARE the best times of your life.  Despite the fact that I had no friends and was subject to what must surely constitute legally-institutionalized slavery behind a desk all day long.

It sucked more than it did in college, which is supposed to be glorified high school, but found me alone and depressed for seven years.

It sucked worse than the Great Recession which forced me to leave the US in search of work.

It even sucked worse than being ill in Cambodia, in some ways.

Dammit all.

I intend to write the back story very soon--it's an interesting one, I assure you.  Although it didn't seem that way at the time--it felt like an enormous boring waste of life energy.

You don't want to miss it.  I do.

The Dark Time III: Depressive Episode (Jan. 2015)

OK, so last time I told you about my rocky, indignant beginning.  You could accuse me of being anti-social, intolerant, poor-sportsmanlike, and over-dramatic.  You could.

Except my reality was that, as people who've survived trauma often express, all this was incredibly overwhelming.  This was my inner reality--one of extreme torment, and one I could no longer acceptably discharge into the environment.  Laugh at that for being dramatic, but that was exactly how my mind was, and it wasn't really a matter of "positive thinking" or "will power".

And about 3-4 months inward, amidst all my rage, indignity, self-disgust, and shame, I wound up in the middle of a true depressive episode.

I don't mean the whole "I'm depressed and lonely" shtick I've been doing nonstop since adolescence.  I mean like an actual crisis where it takes over your mind and body, you can't get out of bed, you can't concentrate, you can't sleep all night, and then you feel tired all day, you can't eat, you start sobbing randomly for hours on end, and the only thing you can think of is suicide...pretty much the stereotype there.  Sleep, when I could even do that, brought no relief.  I just had nightmares about it.  It physically hurt me.  I mean, a dull ache literally took over my entire body.  I stopped menstruating even, because I just couldn't eat.

The toll this took on me psychologically is obvious.  What it did to me professionally, I am still trying to climb out of.

There was no treatment.  No one even to talk to as my friends and family had repeatedly cold-shouldered all attempts to reach out.  I'd sit there for months, listening to the celebrations of young people going on around me, and the irony struck me--such joy and light, and on the other side of the wall, there sat a black hole.  Life's cruel juxtapositions.

No, I'm not even going to try to pretend that's OK.  But I have to tell the truth on this one.  My time here sucked.


(Backdated from June 2015, on 20 April 2017)

The Dark Time II: Arriving in Japan (Jun 2014)

So the first thing about Japan is...well, we all know the "Japanese Proverb" that "the nail/blade of grass that sticks out/grows too high gets hammered/cut down.

Yep.

I knew that was a thing even before I came here. I knew that from living in the US suburbs for 22 years and going to a suburban high school where EVERYONE had to wear black and white Adidas or be socially stigmatized. A red shirt meant you were gay. A trenchcoat meant you were going to kill everyone. Lol, the 1990s. 

I knew what to expect, and they still managed to flatten me here. Worse, they were all foreigners, too...absolutely no excuse in my mind.

Remember the movie The Seven Samurai? And there's "that one guy". You know the one. The drunk guy who bullshits everyone and chronically screws up...but shows everyone up on their hypocrisy. 

I was that guy. "That Guy".

The first day of training I miscalculated my time and got lost (reading signs and understanding the change in cultural spatial setup is actually a thing), thus staggering in 45 minutes late. Not even drunk. Far worse--thinking for myself. I'd dyed my hair red in recent months, because I liked it. My luggage having arrived the evening before, I hadn't managed to iron my shirt. Unable to afford shoes, I was wearing a highly scuffed pair I procured in Cambodia. 

Because, shit, this was a training session amongst other lost foreigners, not a public presentation.

(And I didn't have any way to contact the organization, not having been given any advice on how to obtain a functional phone and SIM card. )

I was promptly dragged out into the hallway and yelled at. 

It didn't get any better after that.  I went to my new location, and the manager there, while a very nice person, could also be considered a "mom".  And I felt that.

Amongst the other crimes:
- I was then forced to dye my hair and tie it back, which is NOT in the handbook regulations.
- Expected to wear makeup
- Yelled at for coming "on time" (on time is 15 minutes late)
- nailpolish
- sparkles on shirt
- "you're not going out there looking like that?"
- remarks about my hair
- remarks about my eyes
- being on time
- getting lost in a train station

Over the next several weeks, each time I would redouble my efforts, only to be yelled at about something else. It was...hard to endure, to say the least. Basic things.  

I mean, one is inclined to say "culture shock"...but I have never had problems like this in any other country. Not once. Even in Dubai where I was the poor scholarship kid amongst the rich, I didn't quite encounter this level of petty bourgeoisie/nouveau riche idiocy. To my battle-weary, sun-baked, jaded, hell-surviving psyche, it sounded like the biggest bunch of bullshit ever.

That's right. I've been deathly ill for years on end, starving, living under the yoke of terror (thyroid-induced panic attacks, I kid you not), too sick and aching to get out of bed, every symptom known to man, accosted and robbed of my only valuable possession, kicked out of several homes, survived dengue with permanent ocular damage...all of this ALONE...and I'm being subject to humiliating remarks about my personal appearance by soft little people who know NOTHING about what "life" really is.

I was so enraged that...I just forgot. I just rolled over on it. There was no way to humanly process the utterly un-gratifying indignity of it all.

For a week or so, I nearly--VERY nearly--pulled out, despite the love, care, energy, and life savings I'd put into coming here. In retrospect, I kind of wish I did. (though where would I have gone?) Cause I withdrew into a mire of shame and self-disgust, right back to my angsty, self-pitying days as a lost 10 year old wondering why the hell everyone had rejected me. I avoided all contact with my superiors, and just pretended (with limited success) like I could even respect the judgemental people I was teaching. I'd go home, lock myself in my room, and just stare at the walls, unwilling to be seen by such a wretched mass of humanity. I wore my hair over my face, so they didn't see the alcoholic-looking rings left by my thyroid disease. Ugly, disgusting, and now, aging. 

Because yes, the men in this country are nasty enough to tell me exactly how old they think I look. If it were women, I'd imagine they were jealous of my lighter skin tone or something...but the men? Well, the boys are just as nasty 20 as they were years prior in grade school. I apparently revolt people, as these shameful incidents prove yet again.

You know, I never complained, never told anyone about my feelings. I did get angry and hurl something out my window in a state of rage, and I did lose all respect for humanity permanently. And I tried to reach out to Facebook friends, but they only reacted with contempt. But you, the readers, and I are the only souls upon this earth who know.

And to this day, I feel melancholy, this job being a degrading daily ritual to be endured. Thus, my utter separation from the civilized world has been complete. I'll never belong back in a first world country.

God, I can't even write this up like it's funny or epic. It just makes me disgusted to be human.



Wait till I tell you what happened at New Years.


(Backdated from June 2015, on 20 April 2017)

The Dark Time I: Sorry (June 2015)

Well, it's been, what, a year since I updated?

Sorry.

I'm still in Japan. Dealing with moments even bleaker, impossibly enough, than they ever were in Cambodia--and in retrospect, I have no idea how I even survived that.

My time in Japan has been interesting, I assure you, though it seemed more like a boring drudge at the time.

So far, it's included:

- Utter humiliation at work, multiple times over
- A major depressive crisis
- A very painful Japanese class
- A cringe-inducing run-in with a legit psychopath
- An amorous stalker
- Absurd amounts of McDonalds
- Unfair dismissal

Sorry if this sounds like the cover of a Lemony Snicket book.

The other 99% of my time was spent locked in my room staring at the walls, just watching the time slip away...for a year. So whatever stories I write to make it sound like an epic adventure, I consider this year lost. Utterly lost, just like the 4 that came before it. 

I will be staying another year, dreadfully enough, and I will be updating my backlog shortly.



--

So about the job itself. I'll make no bones: INCREDIBLY disappointing.

The main thing that keeps getting to me is that I'm here in a foreign country. I can't speak the language, I can't even read the signs. I have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm far from my family. I have no friends, I'm alone, and I'm am, in all reality, incredibly vulnerable--a penniless foreigner in a closed community.

So of course the company I'm working for doesn't arrange accommodation, doesn't show me to the visa office (they expected me to just go in and register of my own accord, because I totally am capable of asking around), doesn't front any money (so I'm stuck eating a cup of ramen once per day, and that's it). Asking one's superiors gets a response of "I can't help you with everything!"

The idea is that I am "independent" and therefore I am here on my own terms so I have complete freedom and flexibility...except that I still get in trouble for being late (which here means, "not early"), I still get yelled at if I get a negative review, I can't cancel classes without a supervisor's consent, I still have to follow the "dress code" which even students think is retarded...I could go on. 

Additionally, they sponsor my visa. So obviously I am completely beholden to the company.

It's marketed as "adventure", but basically, it's a slimy way of them refusing to take responsibility or trouble themselves with foreigners. A form of exploitation, and an example of the crass callousness that mankind really is. Even the Chinese weren't this bad. They realized I was far from home, and even if accommodations were basic (and in my case, utilities unpaid), it was a good-faith effort.

Now I knew this coming in. I knew it, I resented it, but I told myself it was better than slowly being psychologically pulled under in Cambodia. It probably still is...but Oh, how I resent it.

And the money.

I was promised I'd be making about $2500 per month. I've been lucky to make half of that. So I've been starving and living in a dorm room, just trying to save money, since of course that was the object of coming here to begin with. I haven't had the money to do anything of interest around the country, or the city. Just sit at home and stare at the walls.

It's basically a popularity contest, getting people to take your classes (they register for your classes)--and I'm so anti-charismatic that of course, I lose business. For months, I was so hungry from not being adequately cared for, that I was just plain crabby, thus making the non-popularity even worse. A self-perpetuating spiral.

I've spent 12 hours a day, 6 days a week just sitting around, hoping someone would show up. I literally sat on my butt so long, my rectum started destroying itself. The mile I ran when I first came here is now an impossibility; I've atrophied in ways that are quite sad (this coming ON TOP of 3 years of illness). I can't even clean my room without my muscles getting sore. I'm getting as soft and useless as the rest of the population.

So as it now stands, 

- I've spent more money coming here than I've earned
- I haven't been able to do what I came here for
- I can't afford any form of distraction
- I can't respect my employers
- I'm completely out of fitness

Why do I stay, you ask?

I'm a prisoner. A financial prisoner; and the only place I have left to go back to is my beloved, hated Cambodia, where all my bad Karma was burned off and which threatens to utterly destroy me if I return for any length of time. And I'm STILL earning more here per month than I ever did there.

I haven't managed to think of anything that I'd "rather" do in an entire year, and I no longer trust myself to make a beneficial decision. See the blog title, "BAD CHOICES"? Exactly. Everything I've done since the age of 26, while gloriously adventurous, was ultimately self-destructive. I've brought myself down through my own ambitions and dreams. I'm a failure. I'm a NAPOLEONIC failure, and I may as well resign myself to my little island.

That's why I stay.

(Backdated from June 2015, on 20 April 2017)

This is not an adventure, it's a hassle.

In two weeks I will have officially moved to Japan.  Matters grow weighty as I try to fix my teeth, gather supplies, arrange accommodations, and find somewhere to store all the stuff I can't afford to take with me.

Allow me to explain: my future employer is not paying or supporting me in any way.  I am expected to arrange everything from afar and "just show up" on time, perky and ready to go.  I am also expected to navigate Japanese society as a total white freak with no language skills and set up a phone line, bank account, residence card by myself before signing the contract to begin working.  Makes you grateful for the internet, ya?

Given that my parents plopped me down in the woods as a child and more or less expected me to raise myself with minimal input, this is hardly something new.  Yet, after years of struggling just to walk down the sidewalk without bruising myself on a motorbike, being run down by a reversing car, being hit by someone's football game, stepping in urine, whatever...it's just one more hassle.  Just one more hassle that makes me want to grab someone and physically shove the paperwork down their throat:  NO, YOU DEAL WITH IT.

It's extremely brutal, and now that I'm 31, actually somewhat beneath me.  This is not an adventure, this is annoying!!

The thought of going through all this, combined with showing up in a hostile world totally alone and dragging all my luggage across Western Japan has left me feeling so utterly melancholy that I have done the rare thing:  I have chosen to live in a dorm room.  With other people.

Those who know me know I am territorial and can't share my space.  After living with a shit head from Nigeria for two months, I vowed NEVER to share space with another human being. Ever.

Today I had to violate that vow.  I've been isolated for 3 years, deathly ill, with not one person (INCLUDING MY OWN MOTHER) to call me and tell me my life even matters to the world anymore.  And I just don't want to be alone anymore.  The mere thought of arriving alone and isolated only to come into an empty, unfurnished house and carry on going about my meaningless existence, still alone...just makes me want to roll into a ball of despair.

I may regret it later, but it's becoming clear to me that I cannot continue living in isolation.  So, I've taken out a dorm room, an airticket, and submitted my visa request to the Embassy of Japan.  And I do so hoping that my long years of suffering will one day come to an end.

ADVENTURE...?

Japan: An Announcement

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It's official--I am moving to Japan to continue working as an English teacher there.  I am set to move in late June, and will update more in the future.

I regret not being able to update my blog more thoroughly during my time here, but luckily I am moving to an environment where WiFi is easier to obtain and my electronics are less likely to be robbed.  I will likely share all my nostalgic stories then, and may even be able to create cartoons again.

:)

Please note, I will hereby publish all backdated entries.

New Years' Two

Just to prove I'm not a total killjoy, I went out to join the enormous Songkran party tonight.

It's basically what I told you.  The populace throws water and mud on you.  Kids (and adults) run around with super-soakers and spray you with them.  They carry them on trains, in stores, etc.  Boys use the mud as an excuse to touch girls on the face and shoot water on their breasts...I guess girls do the same thing, but damned if I'm masculine enough to know the answer to that one.

An element of sadism enters the picture when folks throw ice water on you, jam mud into your face with such force that you see stars, or rub your face with a block of ice instead of mud (and you can imagine where their hands have been). 

It's just like war!!

In the streets

Coming Soon: Songkran

Shit that would not fly in America I

Shit that would not fly in America II

Shit that would not fly in America III (yes, this is in the building)

The teeming masses shutting down the streets again

Walking through Saladaeng

Not That Tame

Why is it that whenever I visit Bangkok, it's shut down?  Crazy city.

Happy New Years!

It's New Year's you say?

In countries that depend on the rainy season to grow rice, it apparently is.  Though I am working 7 days out of the week to afford to go to Japan, I have been granted a week off for the Khmer New Years' celebration.

I have decided to spend part of this week in Thailand, picking up a few necessities.  That's what expats do in Cambodia--they go to Thailand when they want useful Western goods, like clothes that fit, McDonalds, air-conditioning, advanced paperback books, medical treatment, or pretty much anything else beyond the creature comforts of Swensen's ice cream and Ciprofloxacin.

Needing at least 3 of the 5 items listed above, I got on the quickest night bus to the border (I've had to add many pages to my passport solely because I've done this so often that the visa pages are all used up).

For whatever reason, despite the fact that the New Year is a lunar holiday celebrated by all people in the rice-dependent Southeast Asian region, I somehow forgot that Thailand is also celebrating New Year's.

It's a lot different over here--literally the entire city becomes some sort of outdoor orgy of water and mud and silly drunk people flinging themselves and each other into it.

Hooray!! What fun!, you are thinking.

While this is normally the sort of thing I get into, it's awfully annoying having to hide from water-and-mud snipers behind cars when you're carrying 20 shopping bags and didn't bring any spare clothes to get wet and muddy.  This is probably the reason they no longer do this in Cambodia--all the foreigners complained!

The nice thing, though, is that there are all kinds of "Songkran sales", where everything is 30-50% off for the New Year.  Man, did I luck out on that one.  Also worth noting that the general populace seemed happy, affirming, and high-spirited for once in the entire  50-or-so times I've visited this place.  (Generally, the city is quite stuck-up and inhuman, even degrading, if I may be so bold as to cast a judgement Bangkokward.)  I don't think I've ever been happier to be here.

Khmer Lessons

I had this entire entry written out MONTHS ago on my old computer extolling my linguistic genius, but alas.  I was forcibly divested of it before I had the chance to publish it.  So I'll just write an updated version now.

Basically, I've now been taking Khmer language lessons for about a year and a half.  I haven't been studying much--it's sort of my afternoon hobby; for $5 per hour, I take a class once a day.

I don't practice much outside of class, largely because people address me in English anyway and most of what I do has become habitual, routine, and non-interactive.  Note that I think this is kind of sad, but currently lack the inspiration to do otherwise.

I've still managed to develop basic communication skills that could probably save my life if I were stranded in the backwoods.  That's not saying a lot, mind you, but considering the (lack of) effort I put into it--and my inability to speak the Arabic I studied for 5 years in college--I consider this an achievement.

Actually, my capacities to speak far exceed my capacities to listen, meaning I start shooting off my mouth in order to cover my incompetence in registering what people say.  I'm currently to the point where I've got a basic system down (I know all the basic grammar), but my vocabulary is so stunted that it inhibits me from reaching the next level.  I'm also completely illiterate, which is finally starting to annoy me.

I'll use the rest of this space for some tips on speaking a foreign language.

- I like to repeat whatever someone says to me.  This appears to show a sincere interest in the other person, but actually it's a method of buying time to think and pretending like you understand when you don't.
- Whatever word you pick up on, respond to that one.  If you understand the nature of the interaction, you don't even have to understand the words at all, and you'll still be right.

Just wait till I tell you the one about dengue fever.

Droppin in on Sri Lanka

Well, sorry folks.

I had to drop back in on Sri Lanka for a week.  (Even I can afford to do this when I take Cathay Pacific's crap 2 am flight from Bangkok for 220 USD.  Despite the chauvinism expressed by their marketing department, I actually thought the service was quite OK.)

Why did I do that?  Well, I didn't say anything about it last time, but while I was in Sigiriya last time, I somehow became appended to a local family and I thought I'd drop in on them while I still had the chance.

It didn't work out, actually, but never mind.  Here are some quick photos I took while I was there.

The guesthouse where we stayed

Jungly things

I went back to Anaradhapura, where I got lost last time.  I wanted to see the world's oldest cared-for tree, which is said to have been a clipping of the boddhi tree under which the Buddha  received enlightenment.  How cool is that?  My sense of history was engaged; problem is, I didn't get to visit last time due to getting lost.  So I hopped the first bus to Anaradhapura and visited for the afternoon:

A dome

Lovelorn monkey

Here it is...the clipping of the tree under which the Buddha received enlightenment.

Another view

Another view.  No, I did not go inside.

I forget what this is

Damn green country

Dirty jungle river

I had about $125 that I lived off of the entire time I was there.  Then I took the bus home from Bangkok in a glorious display of 48-hour long endurance.

So, it is possible to travel if you're poor.  Just a word of affirmation for those who think they don't have the money to travel.

Bangcock.

Tonight I'm in Bangkok yet again.

Why, you ask?  Well, because I enjoy torturing myself  by putting myself through the hell that is the night bus to Poipet, the on-foot border crossing, and the navigation through the largest (and least friendly) city in a developing country.  That, and I'm headed back to Sri Lanka again.

Before you ask me why a second time, I'll just cut the conversation short.  Get to that part later.

You're probably worried about this situation because of all the stuff in the news about riots and uprisings and protests and stuff.  Fear not!  The fighting is not in my part of the city, though tourism is all but halted and the streets have been taken over by protesters blaring their stuff out for the cheering masses.  Normally buzzing after dark, a dark silence the curbside market places despite the blaring loudspeakers.

I went to Siam Square only to find the streets blocked off and filled with tents.  People are more or less not budging from this spot till their demands are served!  Major arteries are now protest sites.  I regret that I didn't bring a camera, but you can get a good look at it here:
http://www.travelfish.org/blogs/thailand/2014/01/15/whats-bangkok-really-like-during-the-shutdown/

Also, I bought this shirt:

Shut Down Bangkok!
That's what I say.
The protesters' goals are similar to mine.

It was pretty cool to wander the streets without masses of tourists for a change.  And interesting!  These are the forces that are shaping our world, folks.

There are also plenty of armed soldiers behind sandbags, but given the state that my hometown of Phnom Penh is in, I can't complain...or even summon the energy to feel awed, threatened, or mildly interested.

Actually, the only thing I can do is pray that Thailand gets what's coming to it.  If the entire country and all its people went down in flames, that would scarcely be comeuppance enough.  I bought a shitload of things (which I now have to drag through Sri Lanka with me) because I ponder the state of the city when I return in two weeks.

How to Terrify Your Students, Piss off your Bosses, and Lose Faith in Humanity

You'd probably like to hear what happened after the little fiasco last week.  I'll tell you.

Predictable, horrifying, hilarious

Given my students' disrespectful attitude, I thought it would be highly appropriate to do the Mean Teacher write-an-essay-about-how-much-you-suck thing.  So, the next class we had, I did just that.  I made them write an essay on how to respect people.

I see nothing wrong with doing this.  Frankly, given the bullshit I'd been putting up with all term, I should have done it a lot sooner.

I also told them, as a scare tactic, that any bad behavior or wrong move on their part would result in marks being taken off the final exam.

The results were at once predictable, horrifying, and hilarious. 

First, the kids who'd been absent the prior lesson came in, sat down, and very nervously cranked out a 5 paragraph essay about Respect.  Of course, those who had nothing to do with the situation took it very seriously...meanwhile, those with the worst attitudes refused to participate.  They simply couldn't fess up to their own bad behavior.  The absolute snottiest girl in the class (the one who always walked in half an hour late and spent her time talking over me and flunking exams) of course refused to work at all.  Actually she stormed out when I had the audacity to tell her to stop talking yet again.

And the most disruptive students then followed her out.  My firm opinion is, once again, that those privileged with the greatest of resources (academic, fiscal, and otherwise) are the least deserving.  She went crying to the office about how I had the nerve to make her sensitive little ass behave like--God fobid!--an actual student who wants to learn.

So I filed a counter-complaint.

Actually I had filed a counter-complaint on Monday, long before this ever happened.  My boss promised me someone would come talk to them.  (Obviously, no one came to talk to them).  So, theoretically, none of this had to happen beyond the shittiness that culminated Monday night.  And, theoretically, the central office should have realized there was a problem, handled it, and let the matter drop.

They didn't.

Inferior Superiors

So they sent someone in Friday to address the class after the lesson was over.  Please note that I had no desire to teach them in the first place at this point, much less spend the lesson being observed by the central office so they could address the class at the end.

But they did, and that should have been the end of it.  Especially since I told the class we'd begin lessons again on Monday if they were "super good".

But no.

I got a phone call the following Monday and was summoned to the central office.  Four of my superiors proceeded to gather around me, seat me in the dean's office, and berate me for the next 30 minutes for my conduct.  For MY conduct--my students' behaviors were all but condoned.

Their premise was that I was failing in my job as classroom manager--not that my students had been obnoxiously disrespectful for the last X number of weeks.  They told me MY conduct had to improve and that MY actions were all wrong.  Never mind the fact that it's wrong that I can't get markers refilled, papers printed, or have simple requests to higher management taken seriously.  Never mind that.  The company is right, and I am wrong.

I've been teaching for nearly 4 years and never have I ever tolerated a class like that.  Only in China did I encounter anything remotely resembling this, and then I was dealing with over-stressed 10 year olds.  Therefore, I am inclined to ignore condescending, self-congratuatory lectures berating my management skills, especially given that I've survived significantly MORE hardships than any of the pampered men in that room through conditions that would have crushed them all.  I am not a child, nor are my adult students who, by all rights, should know how to behave themselves better.  But I just sort of grinned and bore it, hating them all.  (Of course, if they'd like to pay me to behave like a well-mannered professional in the face of open disrespect and brutal hardship, I'd be happy to open negotiations on this matter.)

Then the school councilor informed me that my emotions had "gotten the better of me".  Actually, what happened was more along the lines of a strategic withdrawal, (disregarded) requests for reinforcements, followed a power move designed to instill fear and respect.  I had the intelligence not to point this out at the time, but I wonder if I would have gotten the "emotions" lecture if I were not female.

Isn't that nauseating?  It's like when someone gets sexually harassed at work and the company moves to protect itself rather than address the grievance of the sufferer.  It's like...just one more thing for me to be adversarial against these days.  My own company, with its own councilor's office, designed to help facilitate student-teacher relations.  The hand that feeds me...why not?  Join the 50 Front War, folks!!

You know why my company berated me as it did?  The bottom line.  That's all they were thinking of--next term's enrollment numbers.  My boss even said so to my face--"We have re-entry fees to think of.  You need to reconcile."  As if I owe any fealty to this place.  As though corporate team spirit is even possible under conditions like these.

Lumps of Human Flesh, Shreds of Humanity

You see, in the degrading world of TEFL, you are an expendable lump of human flesh.  Your worth is reduced to dollars per hour, and you are so worthless, even your health is not worth protecting.  (I'm still blind in my left eye due to a bout of dengue fever in May.)  Your own boss will look you in the face and prioritize re-enrollment numbers over your inherent dignity, health, and well-being...meanwhile giving himself a raise while you struggle to survive below the US poverty line.

I'm not a naive fool.  I knew what it was all about going in, and I know it now.  I knew it when I was robbed of my own most precious object for a mere $25.  I knew it when my parents left me to die here.  I knew it when Chinese moms publicly shredded me at every opportunity, and I knew it when I struggled to force my dying body out of bed for months on end so that I could afford to eat while my thyroid had died.  No one cared for me then, because I am a mere object with no monetary value.  So I'm not in the least surprised that my own company, for whom I have worked for years, would naturally side with shitty, low-quality students whose parents make far more money than I do.

But oh, how I resent it.

We are NOTHING in this world, and working in TEFL really pushes you face to face with that.  NOT a recommended career choice.

LOL.  OK, wow.  

Sorry for that.  I know I'm supposed to be happy and upbeat all the time, because that's the only way I'm legitimately worth listening to, right?  So, sorry for the anti-everything rant.

In the end, I went back to that stupid class, bitched and moaned to my fellow teachers, and just sort of let the students educate themselves without me lifting a finger.  They finished their final exam today, and justice will be administered in some form, even if it's only me taking off points for excessive absences and excessive lateness. 

Not that it will matter when their parents pay the admin to advance them to the next level anyway.

Cambodia - 93289493 / Holyrockthrower - 0

It's official.

After 3 years of managing classrooms solely according to my own resources--through thick and thin, through debilitating illness, through political crises and institutional takeovers--I have finally been forced to resort to using "higher powers".

Generally, I tend to take the attitude that I am the highest authority, and whatever the tangled rest of the organization says or does is strangely irrelevant to me.  I do not refer students to higher powers--I simply deal with them "as is".  If they're crappy, I kick them out or enforce my own consequences.  Likewise, I habitually ignore missives handed down to me by the bureaucracy designed to tell me how to run my class.

That's my general way of handling things--I'm a dictator.

And today I finally met my match.

It built up slowly--

- students disregarding me telling them not to speak Khmer, to refer to me as "Miss Liz", and to turn phones off
- students habitually coming 30 minutes late
- students dragging class time out by chatting during assignments
- absentee rate of over 50% on most days
- locking me out on one occasion
- not doing homework or falsifying efforts
- talking when I was

And pretty much everything else you'd expect from an audience 15 years younger.  Sheesh, I haven't had conduct problems this bad since teaching spoiled kids in China, and even then, there were two teachers to handle it.

Tonight, every time I turned my back to the board to write something, I heard giggling.  Whispering.  Khmer.  I'd turn around and tell them to stop...then it would start back up.  Literally the second I turned my head back around.

After an extremely frustrating 5-minute buildup, I threatened to kick them out or leave myself.  When the class uniformly responded by giggling yet again, I realized walking out was about the only move left to me.

This, for some reason, brought forth gales of (rather derisive) laughter after my back was turned.

So, I kicked down the door and told them off (not using bad words incidentally).  Mainly to scare them into realizing what miserable little shits they were being.  Immature, I know, but not nearly as immature as the response of least one person, who informed me, "Fuck you."

And so that's why my supervisors got a phone call from me today.  The lesson from this is, yet again, Treat people like the shit they are.  They deserve it.

No way in hell is a single one of those kids passing the final exam.  No way.  What utterly useless human rubbish.
 

My Internet.

I have lots of stuff that I want to update.

I've managed to upload my Sri Lanka pictures and have about 20 backdated that will one day be published.  My main problem is internet access--I'm on for a couple of hours two or three times a week, and I generally spend that time doing what's already piled up while I was gone.

This, of course, is because I was robbed in June.  Do understand that.

There's also increasing social turmoil here, which, again, being deprived of reliable internet access, I haven't really been able to report on, or even read much about.  But, I'd like to do a few entries on that as well.

Other than that, all is quiet on the Cambodian front.  The main problem I'm dealing with these days is that, since my return, prices appear to have doubled yet again, effectively eliminating my lunches at the Blue Pumpkin.  Note that I have not received a raise at work, despite the fact that I've worked at this institution for 3 years every day under abominable conditions.  Precisely why I'm ready to move on.

And that's a wrap.

The blog will be updated--maybe

Well, here I am in Bangkok, Thailand.  Unfortunately.

While I was uploading some photos, I made the mistake of ejecting the camera from the drive.  This is because I suck at technology, and everything I touch is doomed in one way or another (I've yet to tell you the incident with my so-called Galaxy S-4).

Anyway, what this means is that basically the camera's gone into lock-down, won't let me take pictures, and won't let me view the shots I took.  All photos have been replaced by "read only" files, and I'm not sure how to rectify this situation.

I'm doing my best and hoping I can resurrect some of the photos, many of which were stunning mountain shots.

Anyway, I will either update shortly with lots of photos...or not.

Wellawaya

I took a daytrip from Ella to Welawaya, which is only an hour to the south by bus.  There's nothing there to speak of except for some ancient rock carvings, which they call Buduruwagala.

It looks like this.

The rock carvings

Up close.

From another angle. 

I really couldn't get any more out of it than this.  That's literally the entire site.  Not worth the 200 rupees you are subject to paying (lol, no really--my driver was appalled I had to spend money just to look at it).

You also pass some lakes and forests and stuff on the way to the rock.  There's also an archaeological museum, and crocodiles are said to live in the lakes.  It would be nice to get up early and just make it a day-long hike through the countryside.

A lake

A boat with that thingy on the side

It's 2300 years old.

Lovely shady swamp.