I did manage to get a bit of writing done on Sunday before I went to rehearsal for the play. On the way there by some strange coincidence I ran into Melvin, my old boss from when I worked at the newspaper. We were talking when I heard someone call out my Chinese name. I turned around to see my old Brigade commander, Lou Ti, standing there. I hadn’t seen him in years. Lou Ti is a general now and has his own division down in Chiayi. It was surreal having two former bosses from such vastly different situations standing there together chatting with me on Heping East Road.

Unfortunately I was late for rehearsal so I couldn’t chat very long. I doubt I will take a part in this one, but I’ll hang around for a couple more rehearsals just to see what happens. It’s fun to do, but I have a full plate already at the moment. Work today was awful. I was kept busy all day with horribly boring, inane copy, which is the norm, unfortunately. After work I rented some DVDs, just something I could lose myself in, so I got Doctor Zhivago. But that didn’t work out because it kept crashing my computer, so I had to give up on the damn thing. Fark.

These days I wear myself out at work during the time I should be spending productively, and when I get time to myself, such as after work, I don’t feel like doing anything productive. Something’s gotta change here, or else something’s gonna break.

The doorman downstairs hasn’t mentioned his proposition since he made it a few days ago. I even chatted with him a bit tonight when I walked in, but he didn’t bring it up at all. He seemed suspiciously cheery, however. I hope he hasn’t misconstrued my refusal as some sort of tacit agreement. I can just see him producing documentation that confirms that I’ve already married his daughter or something. Ugh.

“Want to go out and get drunk?” I asked Dean last night in messenger window. I was in a foul mood after a terrible day at work (see the last entry). I just wanted to accentuate my mood by getting completely shitfaced, and Dean is usually ready and willing to accept such a mission.

An hour later we were at Peso, him drinking every-other-one-free beer and me dashing down Long Island Ice Teas. I don’t remember what we talked about; mostly the kind of thing most drunk people talk about and then forget the next day. By 1 or 2 in the morning we’d had enough, I guess, so we staggered out and began walking in the direction of my building. We walked right past my door and on up the street until Dean said “Isn’t this your building?”

“Nah, we passed it. It’s back there,” I pointed, drawing a sigh of exasperation from Dean. You just gotta love Drunk TC.

Last night I had one of those dreams where you think you’ve woken up but you really haven’t. I can usually tell when I’m dreaming, and in my dream I actually thought to myself “I know when I’m dreaming, and I’m definitely not dreaming.” I had woken up slowly and gradually realized that I was in some sort of dodgy hotel with vomit-colored deep-pile shag carpet and shoddy wood panelling. In the next room they were having a reception of some sort for prospective “Happy People” who wanted to work at T.G.I.Friday’s. They had even brought striped shirts and baseball caps. I walked in on them to try and ask just how the hell I had gotten there when I clearly remembered falling asleep in my own bed last night, but when I saw the Happy People dressed in their Friday’s uniforms, I beat a hasty retreat, muttering “That was a close one.”

Then I woke up for real, thankfully in my own room, but it makes me wonder if it was some sort of window to an alternate reality, my life-that-could-have-been, or perhaps even a glimpse of hell.

In any case, my head is still throbbing as I type this. I need to do some writing today, or at the very least something productive, or I’ll just feel even worse with guilt added to my hangover. Just now as I was looking at my referall stats, I noticed that this website development company in New Zealand of all places is presenting my site as a “great example” of “a quirky and personal web journal”. Of course, down at the bottom of the page they admit that “PWD has profiled the above websites as great examples for inspiration to our clients and to demonstrate what is possible and what PWD could deliver. However, PWD was not involved in the creation of the above websites.” How nice of them. Now if they could just spell my name correctly.

I am in disguise, I realized today during my lunch break as I walked around in the streets and alleys behind our building. It’s not a clever disguise by any means, but there it is. People see someone else, someone not even remotely connected to me. It’s frustrating at times, since I can’t take the damn thing off. I think I’m even diguised from myself. I feel like I’m not me, like I’m not really anyone. I was walking around, thinking that nothing really matters. I walked down the middle of the road, only marginally aware of the cars and scooters. I am Nobody. You can’t hit me. There is no me.

I found myself at Subway and asked the girl behind the counter why she did what she did. She just looked at me blankly, uncomprehendingly. I took my sandwich out to a nearby park bench and ate there. It’s been drizzling all day, but I just couldn’t the thought of eating with all of those professional-types and their obnoxious laughing secretaries. I walked back to the office, feeling my expression tighten as I approached this big white cell. As I passed my motorcycle, I felt like either smashing it or just taking off on it, never to return. But I was also so numb that I didn’t feel like doing either. I just don’t care enough anymore.

I have a good job. True, I don’t make as much as most of my friends, but it’s fairly stable and not demanding…except that it is demanding. In fact, it’s going to be a race for me to stay sane long enough to collect my New Year’s bonus in February. And after that, I have no idea what is going to happen. Knowing how companies love to cut compensation of “The Global Economic Downturn”, 2001’s Excuse of the Year, they probably won’t give out the standard 2 months (43 months for government workers).

It’s like knowing when you’re going to be fired. I’ve had trouble concentrating on my job, everything that goes on around me in the office seems petty, false and downright inane. I should face the fact that what’s wrong with my life can’t be solved by a month in Australia. I thought it would help me get to New Years in one piece, but now I doubt it.

Harry and Yuan-ming both came over last night, so I took them to Peso, which was almost empty. We all took advantage of the buy-one-get-one-free beer, even though I don’t like beer. I just didn’t care. I felt like nodding off halfway through the conversation, unfortunately. Yuan-ming was talking about married life, and Harry was just being annoying. I got to bed at around 2am, but I still feel drained. ‘ve felt drained all day, and the constant irritations of my job aren’t helping. Perhaps sword practice tonight will make me feel better. If not, there’s always alcohol. There’s a bit of alcoholism in my family, on both Russian and Choctaw sides (ooh, big surprise there), but I don’t often get drunk. Didn’t used to, at least. Can’t make any promises in that department, especially in my present mood.

I’ve managed to avoid the doorman since he made his little proposition. I’ll probably run into him tomorrow, though, since he and the other doorman tend to switch every other day. I don’t know what I’ll tell him, but I know I will probably come across sounding like an asshole no matter what I say. Not looking forward to that. If only he knew how fucked up I actually am, he wouldn’t want me around.

Listening to Wagner’s Rienzi Overture this morning at work, I was taken back to my time in the Florida Symphony Youth Orchestra in the mid-80’s. We did one combined concert with the Floriday Symphony Orchestra a year, and one year we did the Rienzi. It’s such a powerful piece, especially for the brass section, that I get chills just recalling it. Performing with musicians better than us, professional musicians, gave us something to play up to, and I felt that I was playing much better than I had a right to that night. Such an immense pleasure. I miss being part of a musical group, be it classical, jazz, rock, whatever. When I took the Johnson O’Conner Aptitude tests as a teenager, the evaluators told me that not only do I have a high musical aptitude, but that I have a physical need for music. I can’t not have music in my life, they said. If I don’t, I’ll go crazy. I wonder if most people aren’t like that, though. Maybe most people have other talents that help them ignore their inherent creative urges, talents I lack for whatever reason.

This morning as I was heading out through the lobby of our building, the doorman downstairs called me over. He gave me a slip of paper on which he had written my name and some flattering adjectives like “honest”, “reliable”, etc., and proceeded to ask me if I would move in with his adopted daughter, who is now the same age as me. “It’s ok if you don’t get married at first,” he said. Apparently the apartment where he and his daughter and the daughter’s child live belongs to the city, and the city will take it back if his daughter isn’t shacked up with someone by a certain date. He also wouldn’t mind some more kids around the house, if you know what I mean.

“But I like it here. I have my own room, a nice view, I can come and go as I please,” I protested. “It would just be too strange, just moving in with a strange woman. Can’t she find someone by herself?”

“Strange? No, not at all. I don’t like any of her boyfriends,” he replied. “It’s fine if you two get involved. She never leaves her room anyway. She just stays at the computer all day.” At least we’ve got that in common, the little sarcastic voice in my head taunted.

“I’ve got to go,” I told him.

“Come back after you get off work and we’ll discuss it,” he called after me as I left.

I was late to work, but thankfully nobody noticed since I’m late quite often. The doorman’s proposition, if I may call it that, is at once amusing and a bit of a concern. I see this guy just about every day as I come and go, and does seem to be quite nice, but there’s no way I’m going to go live in the same room with his adopted daughter. That would just be asking for disaster. I’d like to help him out, but damn, that’s a bit much, enit?

Nothing to report from the office today, unless you count the invigorating revelation that we have “New Car Smell” soap in our office bathrooms now. Basically the same monotonous busywork, the same gazing out of windows at the mountains, the same listening to music and wondering how the ‘Building the Crate’ theme from Chicken Run can bring me to tears. Now that’s personals fodder if I’ve ever heard of it.

After work, though, a bunch of old newspaper alumni, including Dean, Graham, Mark and myself, met up at a new bar just around the corner from where I live. It’s called “Peso”, and appears to be a tiny little place from the outside, but when we opened the wooden door we found that the architects had utilized a very clever series of platforms to make the red-brick-and-mirror interior seem downright immense. Several other foreigners were there, which isn’t surprising as we’re right near Shi-da here. The beer was buy-one-get-one-free, which was great for everyone except me, as I don’t drink beer. I settled for the 20% discount on Long Island Ice Tea and proceeded to get quite drunk as we talked about politics. Mark left early, saying he had to go to work in the morning, although I suspect he might have been a bit putt off that I was by that point describing how sexy I thought LL Cool J was (He should be thankful I didn’t get started on KRS-1). The rest of us stayed on until almost 1:00 in the morning, and it was a nice feeling to pack everyone else into cabs and realize that I could stagger back home on my own without having to walk more than a few meters.

Yuan-ming is going to be in town tomorrow for some sort of meeting, and we might get together tomorrow night. Just to make sure I again get nothing productive done after work. And then it will be Friday, and then there will be yet another whole weekend to waste. Ah, I can’t wait.

I was talking with the motorcycle guy at the shop last night where I went to purchase a new visor for my helmet. I asked him what the deal was with larger, imported motorcycles now that Taiwan is entering the WTO. He told me that larger locally-produced bikes should be available as soon as January (!), but we’ll have to wait until July before Taiwan starts letting the inevitable flood of imports in.He also said that the government will be implementing a new licensing system, with harsher tests and A, B and C-grade licenses. He hinted that they would be dividing the licenses for larger bikes by age, so that even one would need to be at least 35 years old to ride a bike over 400cc.

Wha-? 35 years old? Damn, I hope this guy is confused. Actually, it might not be such a big deal, because according to the Chinese way of calculating age, which begins at conception and has to do with which side of the new year one’s birthday falls on, I am already 34, even though in Western terms I am still 32. So if they count that, by the time I am able to afford an imported 600cc CBR, I should be old enough to qualify for a license.

Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if all of this is just rumors.

I heard that a new mall had opened up near the intersection of Fuxing North Road and Civic Blvd, so after I got off work I rode over there to take a look. I’m always skeptical when I hear about a new “mall” opening up in Taiwan, because each and every time it turns out to be a single bank of clothing shops, i.e. not real malls. I don’t even think real malls are feasible for Taiwan in that they seem to be particularly suited to the US and other western nations. Taiwan doesn’t have the rigidly zoned suburbs that sprawl across the United States, therefore malls just don’t make as much sense here. Taiwanese who have seen movies like Clueless, however, seem eager to join what they perceive as high-life indicated by Hollywood-portrayed malls. I don’t understand why they don’t release Mallrats on DVD here, though. That ought to set a few things straight.

The new place in question is called the “Breeze Center”, and at first impression it does indeed feel very mall-like. There are a couple of levels, an open area in the middle, rows of shops, a food court…and yet, upon closer inspection, this impression is false. If it’s any kind of mall at all, it’s a Chick Mall. They were in the midst of a promotion called “Women Christmas”, all the shops were selling female-related items such as clothing and perfumed soap; there was no electronics sections. There wasn’t even any space devoted to menswear or sports stuff. The final insult was the complete and utter lack of men’s bathrooms. There might have been some around somewhere, but I couldn’t find them. Even the signs only indicated the existance of women’s restrooms. Men, with all of their uncouth gestures, filthy habits and useless nipples, are just not welcome at the Breeze Center. I suppose the biggest clue it the name itself: “Breeze” must be the most-often used word in feminine products. So while the Breeze Center may be mall-esque, or even a Chick Mall, it’s still not a real mall. It would seem that we’re still safe in that respect, although I have yet to visit the place over on Civic Blvd near Dongxing Street, the huge building that looks like a scale replica of the Droid Control Ship in Star Wars: Episode I. Dean says that it is clogged with traffic every morning, so who knows? It might just be able to control droids. I still doubt it’s a real mall, though. I plan to abstain from drinking anything for several hours before I go, though, just in case.

I finally got around to updating my “News from the Renegade Province”, with all-new stories. Go have a look.

Christine is thinking about living and working in Shanghai. I wonder about that as well; what would it be like? I hear about people going there, but I have never been myself, unless you count the time I flew over it from Qingdao on my way to Hong Kong. All I saw from the plane window was a sprawling mass of yellowish lights, seeming impossibly huge at that height. I haven’t been back to mainland China in almost a decade; it would be interesting to see how much has changed. One thing I do remember vividly, however, was how much I missed Taiwan after living in Qingdao and Kaiping for a year.

I already have a Tai Bao Zheng, the official travel permit for ROC citizens, although I cannot predict what PRC officials’ reaction to it would be. Perhaps I could try it out on a trip to Shanghai and maybe Beijing, neither of which I’ve ever seen. I probably wouldn’t even consider Beijing except for its history and the fact that they’re trying to make it presentable enough for the 2008 Olympics.

Perhaps they will open up some transportation links before long, and I will be able to get on a cruiseship in Jilong Harbor, bound for Shanghai. But I doubt it.

I don’t think the play thing is going to work out. The group just seems to lack something…perhaps the vitality of the Seasons Players, even though several of the Seasons Players are also part of this cast. I was offered a small role that I am not really interested in, so I might opt out of the whole thing. I’ll still go to another couple of rehearsals and see what happens, though. We might work something out. My friend Ken called as we were wrapping up the rehearsal session at Grandma Nitti’s, so I told him to come over. We talked over dinner and had a good time. Ken wanted to know if I would have preferred a more “normal” life, e.g. either being purely Taiwanese and living in Taiwan, or purely white American, living in the US, but there’s no way I can answer that. I suspect that I would be highly dissatisfied living in the US, but I can’t say for sure, not having really done it before. I’ve lived here in Taiwan my entire adult life, and I spent my childhood moving around the US; that’s just what happened, so it’s hard to imagine how I’d feel in other circumstances. It would be another me, a me I don’t really know and cannot answer for. Still, it was an interesting conversation. We also talked about the election, how the Times and the News seem to be ignoring the massive gains the PFP made, focusing rather on the DPP. Naturally. It’s their agenda, of course. Ken didn’t vote because his residence is registered in Taichung County, and his place of employment, B&Q, wouldn’t let him take the entire day off.

Drivel. All of this rambling simply means that nothing interesting happened today to write about other than a constant headache from looking at the monitor all day. Or perhaps it’s a lack of air quality, as the mountains have gradually disappeared from view over the course of the day. Or maybe it was those instant noodles. I should do something other than go home and play video games after work today.

I’m thinking that perhaps getting my book complete and published by Christmas is just a tad unrealistic. I might have to revise that goal to Chinese New Years instead. That doesn’t let me off the hook though; there’s still a lot to be done, and I know that I will not be satisfied until the damn thing is finally published.

Yesterday was a brilliant example of getting nothing whatsoever done at all. I did go vote, however, and the guy I voted for did end up getting elected. I know this not from the TV coverage but from the fact that he’s has an election office near me and I heard the fireworks. As in the last presidential election, the People’s First Party did a good job of making sure that the KMT lost it’s majority to the DPP in the legislature, although if you count the fact that the only difference between the PFP and the KMT is that of personality rather than politics. I’m not sure if the goal of politics should be giving people what they ostensibly want or what they will realize they want once they have it, but splitting the vote only ends up with a minority of the people deciding things for the majority. I called up Harry yesterday morning. He was in Sanchung, on his way to vote over there. I asked him who he was going to vote for, but he wouldn’t say it over the phone. “You know full well that Sanchung is a bastion of DPP supporters. If I tell you who I’m going to vote for someone will hear and beat me up!” he told me. I guess it doesn’t matter, since I knew full well he was going to vote for the other, non-DPP guy, Wang Chien-hsuen. Wang, not surprisingly, didn’t win.

It’s funny how so many people don’t realize that the DPP ‘majority’ is actually a minority when compared the opposition. Foreigners in Taiwan tend to be extremely pro-DPP anyway, so I don’t expect that particular realization to be too popular. I’m learning to just keep my mouth shut concerning politics when in the company of foreigners, most of whom haven’t been here all that long, because if I say anything negative about the DPP at all they’re all over me about being reactionary and fascist, how Taiwan should declare independence, etc. *yawns* I’ll vote my conscience, have my say in that fashion, and let that be it.

I wasted the entire afternoon yesterday. Don’t ask me how; I just did. The weather was wonderful, and I felt distracted. I hate having to spend the week working on trivial, meaningless drivel I don’t want to do, and then when the weekend comes, wanting to have a weekend rather than work on the work I want to do, if that makes any sense at all.

Last night Harry, Yong-gen and I rode up to the hot springs and soaked out under the stars. Yong-gen has entered a body-building competition scheduled for next weekend, so he was at the gym all day, so we had met at the Shih-pai MRT station not long before midnight. There were lots of people there, and watching the steam rising off of the water and glistening bodies, wafting across the bamboo walls and off into the surrounding forest was quite relaxing in spite of the loud, somewhat raucous nature of most of the bathers’ conversations. It would have felt a lot better, however, if I had actually accomplished something that day. I shouldn’t even bother trying to enjoy myself before I’ve got all of my shit taken care of; it just doesn’t work. I feel guilty that I didn’t make any progress at all on any front. I need to get ready to break this cycle, if it’s not too late already.

Harry and Yong-gen are going to another hot springs, the one I really liked from before, this afternoon, but I’m meeting up with the actors at Grandma Nitti’s to go through the play again. No parts have been assigned so far, but I am not too optimistic that I’ll get one. Which is fine, of course; as I have plenty of other stuff to keep me busy already. At the very least it’s a lovely afternoon for a stroll. I can’t believe it’s December already.