Young Wife

I was invited to Irene's family gathering when we were both in Taipei for Kaiping's wedding. Irene's family friends, managers working in her father's business attended the dinner. Over the dinner table, there was a young lady who looks younger than Irene and I, talking sweetly and telling me that she lives in ShangHai. I was curious how she was dragged into this crowd but I didn't utter a single word. Later, I figured out that she is the young wife of one of Irene's father's managers, who is, of course, around the same age of Irene's father.

He was sitting next to this young girl, attentively making sure that her plate is full of foods and she is not too bored by people around her, who she barely knows. The manager is a typical middle-age Taiwanese business man, loud, grass rooted and sharp. Speaking Mandarin with thick Taiwense accent and looking at me with accusation eyes when I told him that I don't speak Taiwanese fluently. You can feel the fight between manhood and tenderness when he looked at her with the dreamy eyes. How he divoiced his wife who fought with him over these years for better life and married this young lady from ShangHai? However, you can sense the jokes shoot toward this young ShangHai girl from other managers' middle-age wives are not coming out of no where (are they feeling insecured?).

How is life being fare to the divoiced middle-age wife? Will she be able to find another life after all these years spending on her husband and family, living without herself? She is driven out of the social cicle because of this young kid. What is she now after being ripped of the title of being someone's wife? Is she happier after being single again? However, if the middle-age manager responsible for love being lost between them so that the affair could have the chance to grow? We all have the right to pursue happiness, however, if it costs others' happiness? Would you do it?

One thing we can almost be sure is that the middle-age manager would not have been so lovingly taking care of his company if he's not divoiced his wife and brought her to the dinner.

Line of the Day

Having lunch with other consultants in the office, I bashed about how strange this client is. A number of technical analysts were dismissed from the project because of some strange reasons. M.C. is on the job now, under a lot of stress because the client keeps criticising him. Poor young M.C., I mean, I tried to tell him this is only a job, but he is so stressed that he cannot sleep at night.

The client is painstakingly into details, and clinging to the documentation word by word. Another very good tech consutlant who was dismissed from the bank told me that once the bank asked why the downloaded software was a zip file before and is a jar file tihs time. They demanded to log this as an issue and wanted a 10 page long explanation.

(the java jar files are usually packaged into a zip file to ship)

Preoccupied

I seemed very absent-minded these 2 days, I boarded on the train bound for the wrong direction twice in a row. That might have something to do with the book I am reading. Natsuo Kirino is a female writer living in Japan. "Out" is her first book got translated into English in 1998. She is such as good story teller. First, she tried to hook you in with food because the female protagonist worked night shift at the lunch-box factory. I can smell the grease from deep frying pork cutlet and steam from just cooked rice. The foods turned into such mundane, uninteresting objects, lunch boxes, waiting to be shipped. She is cold, intellegent and lonely. She is 43, her career and family are both screwed. She decided to take the night shift job and spent the hours from midnight to 5am with financial stressed part-time housewives.

One of the housewives strangled the abusive hudsband to death and, being the most sturdy and strong one in the group, she was asked to help out getting rid of the body. She did, cutting her friend's husband into pieces and threw them with household waste. The group of part-time housewives is drawn into this killing and cutting one after another. This is really a page turner, you cannot help but wanting to know what is going to happen to these plain, normal housewives, how can they get out of the mess.

After the body part was found, the Casino owner was the primary suspect of the killing. The author spent a long time describing him, how he became impotent after raping and stabbing a woman 17 years ago. With which her pleasure and pain are his and his hers. He is the lonely soul, trying desperately to find the sexual climax no one ever experienced. I actually find this character more interesting than the cold, intellegent Masako (the protagonist). In fact, my attention was drawn to Sakate, the casino owner, because he is such so much different from the ordinary Japanese men I know. He is a pimp, selling women in his hostess club to whoever is willing to buy them a drink. He dressed very well yet too pronounced. His voice is low and smooth. He has solid, almost stocky body build yet his fingers are delicated and well-manicured. He is scary, in Kabuki-cho, people are experienced enough to get out of his way when he's on the street.

He is looking for another woman who hates him like hating snake yet attracted to him, as anyone can guess, Masako fits. (Don't ask me why, Masako is a mystery in the whole book. The book only vaguely explains that both she and the casino owner have things in common, that is, they are both sick. She wouldn't mind being killed, as long as it is in his hand, and he wants to kill her while making love to her). He met Masako when he found out that she got rid of the body. He also found out Masako has the potential to bring back his widest sexual experience.

Meanwhile, Masako started her own little business, as if she had no choice, she started to cut up bodies in her own bathroom for the Yakuza and earn heafty amount of money for herself and her housewife friends. She sure had choice not to get involved. But I think this comes from her self-destruction. She didn't need the money, she just wanted to see how low she can sink.

I am not going to tell you how the story ended. The plot is happening in the most ordinary, boring neighbourhood yet the clush of personalities isamazing. However, I think the book is a bit weak about Masako and Sakate's motivation.

When the Tree Falls in a Forest without Anyone There

Does it make a sound? That's the most strange question I ever encountered, who the hell want to ask this type of question?

I had very philosophical conversation today. It goes like:

"Why it is not good to think negatively?"
"Because you might potentially lose the benefit of thinking positively"
"Your answer is very positive in a negative way."

What Love Looks Like

I will need to do some shopping today. I literally passed out the whole day, haven't been so sick for years.
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I was reading the Taiwanese movie director's plan to depict Taiwanese men. They are usually shy, don't know how to express themself, care about friends (to be honest, I am not sure there is anything to film about). His next filming plan is more interesting, a love story. He said, when you are young, you fall in love with your own imagination. Everything lovable about her/him came from your own restless thinking. When you are middle age, love is a shit hole, features mortgage, children education funds and endless unexpected expense. When you get old, love is to hold your partner's hand and take a walk.

Want to be a Consultant?

My friend has demonstrated everything bad about being a contractor for the past month. I can understand why permenant employees don't like them because they are getting paid a lot more than we do. Also, if the billable work is taken up by contractor, perm workers would have less chance of getting decent bonus.

Contrary to the monetary reward of being a contractor, the downside is you don't know when you will be told to go home. The bank can turn around and say we don't like the contract we signed a couple months ago because we don't like you now and we are not going to pay you anymore. Holly shit, this can get very emotional and personal. I can see it is taking toll on my friend over this past few weeks. Of course, the off-site work were not made clear to the bank at the beginning is also a reason.

The other not-so-good thing is that a contractor is never belonged to any team. It would help if the hosting officer make some effert to blend the contractors in, what if the environment is contractor-obnoxious? The time and energy to cope with the political upheaval are amazing.

Sitting on the Tin

The day I returned to Tokyo, I wasn't feeling well the whole day because I unwisely drank a super huge craneberry banana smoothie in our breakfast hang out in Lotus Hill. We then had lunch in a restaurant in Taipei city before departing to the airport.

My sister in law, nephew, Grace and my parents were all present. We ordered 4 or 5 dishes which are pretty standard and delicious. I didn't eat much but the rice because the food tasted too salty and I had to stop my parents from having a verbal fight. It is very energy consuming to divert their attention.

Anyhow, my dad became the victim to accompany me to the airport. Strangely my bowl movement clock was messed up and things were fine again after a bathroom visit. As usual, airport is the place where my father likes to get emotional and we had a fight, throwing violent languages back and forth (while lots of people enjoy watching) until I entered the gate.

The next day I got my dad's phone call saying everyone is having the diarrhea or vomitting. I am fine apart from the fact that I didn't feel hungry. A couple of days later, Irene called me saying Aoki and she were also seriously ill after returning back from Taiwan. It turned out it is the stomach flu, which is very contagious. The inflammation is caused by rotavirus rather than food poisoning. My mom and I seemed the lucky few who is strong enough to fend it off so far.

I woke up with sore limps and abdominal pain this morning, yet still thinking eagerly what I am going to do today. However, I have to answer the call of nature number of times even before my morning coffee. My Saturday is ruined.

What Do You Really Need in a New Flat

I think I am very much qualified to write about starter's kit of a new home since this is the 3rd time I moved to a new apartment in the past 2 years (if you really count carefully, I changed home twice in California, twice in New York, twice in London, twice in Beijing).

I moved to a flat with almost everything I need, but there is a little mess up with my luggage, I spent my first night on my bed without bedsheet and blanket (had to wrap myself up with my scarf and put on many jumpers). I didn't have towel to dry myself after shower, I pursed up my lips and dried up my hair with pajama, at least they are made of cotton.

Toilet rolls are of course important, but in Japan, you can always get free packet of tissues on the streets, this can wait. My mouth guard is getting uncomfortable, I needed to use scissors to shape up the plastic piece. I used the nail clipper instead, not the most efficient way but it worked.

I brought my french press and fine coffee powder with me. My day is only starting after the boiling hot water goes into the pop and the wonderful coffee aroma flows in the light, crispy morning air... The first time I feel like to cry after this month's relocation ordeal was when I realised I have no coffee mug and it is impossible to drink it out of the coffee pot.

A Hole in the Wall

Running back to my new apartment from work, I am 20 minutes late because my bag is supposed to get delievered to my flat between 6-9pm tonight. When I got home, I was nevously watching around trying to find the delivery truck. Shit, I might have just missed them for 2 minutes. At the same time, I tried to console myself that the delivery guy might not be that puncture. Anyhow, I got back to my little flat and wait, drown myself with a bottle of cold beer.

I don't really agree with the way the bed was positioned in my small bedroom when I viewed this flat with my agent 2 weeks ago. Under the influence of alcohol and boredom, I think tonight is the night to make my life a whole lot better, by changing the orientation of the bed. I went to the bedroom, removed all excess weight that is going to impede my grand plan of rotating the bed, ready to go. Carefully calculated the space, I decided to lift my double bed side way, rotate it to the position desired and then let it down carefully without damaging the drywall. The bed is surprisingly heavy even after I remove the matrics and supporting woodslabs. I lifted the bed up so it is resting on the side frame. I easily rotated it to the position and the real problem revealed itself to me. It is viturally impossible for me along to lower the side of the heavy bed. Many ideas started to roam in my mind. Disassemble the bed requires screwdriver, which I don't have. Asking the delivery guy to help me with it is too risky, number 1, I don't speak Japanese (he might think I am inviting him to have some fun with me). Number 2, I don't want to invite stranger to my bedroom, either. OK, so I am all by myself, what can I do?

I slowly lower one end of the bed, carefully cushion the leg against the wall with my T-shirt. I then move along to the other side, trying to move the side on the ground inch by inch (the floor is carpetted, friction is huge, very hard to move), so I can adjust the cushion T-shirt inch-by-inch so that I don't damange the wallpaper. As I moved to the lower end of the bed, a strange thinking occured to me, why shouldn't I try to lift the whole bed quickly so both end can be situated in the right position? That saves a lot of time. I naturally went to the weight center, lifted up the bed as hard as I can and then the disaster followed.

The bed has the heavy wooden panel sticked to the head, what I have miscalculated is the bedsite lamp has added the additional weight to one side. The bed was not balanced when I hold the center of hte bed frame, it quickly ducked over to the wall and created a 2x1 inch hole on the wall. I am very much devastated.

Edgy

I went through the emotional rollercoaster ride yesterday. Thinking the apartment contract is finally settling in and I only need to trash Stephen's apartment for a couple of nights, I was only too relieve that this flat hunting nightmare was calling to an end. A phone call from my manager came. He accused me of not being sensitve to the office manager, who was swamped by the apartment application I introduced. Also, the agents I have ever had contact with persistently called her to see if Joey is still looking for a place in Tokyo. I was furious, burning with rage. I wasn't told the apartment rental process in Japan, and I had no idea that the agents I worked with have caused such a dramatic effect on our office manager. I was also repeatedly told that the company can seal the contract for me as long as I can find a flat I like. The reality is far off. I was frustrated, stressed, and constantly worried that I am going to sleep on the street because the company didn't show any sign of sympathizing my situation, thus, my corporate apartment is not going to be extended. Now I was given a lecture of how unsensitive I have been?

I wrote to my manager, clearly indicated that I don't appreciate his phone call and my first month in Tokyo is certainly not the best. His phone call made the lowest of the low. When I clicked the "send" button, I was determined to quit. I cannot imagine working with such a character. What the hack, I can always find a job in Starbucks.

My manager wrote back within half an hour, I cannot be bother to read it. Toward end of the work day, I finally bring it open and found that my manager has agreed to extend my corporate apartment yet alleged I am the key person he wants to keep in his professional service team. OK, my immediate problem is solved (I don't need to slush my luggage with me to Rippongi and move again on Monday when the apartment is ready), a relief. But I am still edgy, feeling humiliated and uncomfortable.

Grinding Teeth

It seemed not stress-related but more food-related, my grinding teeth. I heard my father do it, the sound is like pressing 2 ceramic objects against each other tightly, then slowly sliding one of them away. Of course, with a lot more intensity. Obviously I was doing it myself, one time I was half awoke and found that my jaw clench so tight as if I am chewing. The molars were moved against each other slowly but the action felt so right at the moment, my brain cannot think of any other things to do to make myself more comfortable then.

I was given the dental guard and use it religiously since. However, I sometimes dream about biting into food and found that the guard has stopped me from enjoying the texture.

The Bloody Finger

I think I should write this down as a slice of my childhood. That was a autum day where I was still in junior high school, all I want is a better bicycle and photographic memory (so I can pass exam easily). Uncle Thomas was in town that day.

I came back home from school just like any other oridinary school day. My father was working on the machine in the garage. My mom was chatting with Uncle Thomas. Out of blue,my dad walked into the living room with his left hand holding his right, blood was springing from his enclosed left hand and dripping on the floor. My father said "Give me a cigerrate, I think we need to go to the hospital.". I remember my mom slipped into floor and Uncle Thomas held her up. I came out from my room and witnessed the whole bloody scene. I fetched the car key for Uncle Thomas and they were rushing to the emergency room.

I was left alone in the empty house, with blood all over the floor from garage to the living room. My mom's rigid house clean training kicked in. I picked up the table cloth and mop, started to clean up the blood from the first scene, the machine in the garage. As I cleaned the blood from the steel debribs, I found the top third portion of my father's pinky finger. I think my father and I had never been that close since my childhood. I took the lifeless, meat-like finger to the sink and let the water wash away the dirt. I read in reader's digest some people's limbs were saved that way (reader's digest is only good at that time). I wrapped the finger in tissue paper, put it in my back packet and jump on the bike, riding as fast as I can to the hospital.

They saved my dad's ring fingure, but the pinky finger I sent cannnot be attached because the bones and muscle were threaded. We put it in the perservative filled glass bottle and save it in the fridge so we can scare and disgust our guests once in a while. It might be lost when we moved house a couple of years ago.

Happy Birthday, Miffy!

I went to the acqarium to celebrate my birthday. To see other miserable creatures stucked in the dead end pool swimming in circles seems to help me lifting up a bit. Am I cruel or what?

There is a huge white dolphin isolated in one huge tank (I am using huge too many times? But she is really huge, 3 meter long at least). She swam in circles, practiced tricks because she knew how to draw the wow from the crowd. Her face seem cheerful, you know how dophine looks like, the slightly upward curvey lips always give you the illusion that they are enjoying themselves. She skillfully let out the potato size bubble from the breathing hole on top of her head and then eats it in with her smily mouth. She does it again and again, as if she is appreciating the attention. I stood there and felt so damn sad. She knew it all yet she is doing it because she has no other choice to make her life better. This is a little entertainment in her life, perhaps.

The wild animals are too busy to worry about what they were born to do, they are constantly finding anything that can sustain their life longer in order to reproduce and raise the young. The purpose of life is very clear that they want to survive and prosper. What is there for the animials and fishes in cages? What is there for human beings if you are well fed and don't know what to do next?

The slits are located in the underside of the dolphin's body, concealing the reproductive organ. It looks surprising sensual. After all, we are all mammal, are we not?

Time to Say Goodbye

My starting month in the new job in Tokyo is not the best. In addition to the bad luck with apartment hunt, the unfriendly officemates, unhelpful office manager and obnoxious project teammates. I am so deperssed that I only want to do the mininum and get my paycheck. This is so unthinkable to me in the past, I always put 200% of myself into my job, I dated and slept with my work, sadly, I like it.

I start to wonder why some people strive in their work and some don't. I mean, put the right people in the right envivronment, they grow, blossom and glow. Suppose the opposite, they fade and wither.

One of the most experienced contractors is released from the project for some reasons I don't quite understand. Is there a god? If there is, he must be a serious joker. Sometimes you just have to let things fail, I guess.

Do you notice that the most difficult part of messenging, chatting with people on the internet is when to say good bye? You two seemed to run out of interesting conversation topics yet out of politeness, you hang around, waiting for the other to quit first. I mean, I feel guilty and rude to say good bye, perhaps I am still a nice person deep down?