So it`s another day in the office, and another day for students to throw their hard earned money my way. And it pains me sometimes, when I realise what some of my students do for a living. But whenever I feel even remotely sympathetic, somehow, it`s quickly taken over by the thought of my frisky uni students. I can`t say I don`t like it though. After uni yesterday, I happened to be approached by a bunch of my students who proceeded to, "sensei, doko iku no?" (where are you going?) before saying that they were bored and were just on their way home. Innocent it may have seemed, but 2 of the girls (of 4) were rubbing my arms at the same time - smiling coyly. The next thing I saw were the girls kissing each other and inviting me to join in. That is, before I came to, only to find I was already walking away, all the while, my 2nd brain threatening to go on strike.

By now, I should be used to being touched. Kids do it all the time, seemingly from their fascination of my hairy arms, greasy hair, or to test if I could walk while they weighed down my legs. Even on the train, when it`s just jam packed, I`ve stopped being suspiscious of others when I feel a hand on my ass. But when hot uni students do it, now that just puts dirty thoughts in my head.

But of course, I remain faithful because I do love my gf. She may be a bitch, she may not have any friends because of being a bitch, and she does strongly invite a good whack sometimes, but she brings the goodness out of me - the innocence, the faithfulness, and of course, the increase in the boundaries of my patience.

 

So yesterday was my birthday, and while I didn't do anything special, see any friends, or even be greeted by anyone except family, my gf, and of course Chris, it was still somewhat memorable. I've turned 26, and as I look back at the year gone by, I realise just how much things have changed.

For one, I have quite a bit more disposable income these days - a huge change from years gone by. It's such a great feeling to not have to be disappointed by a malnutritioned wallet, and to have the power to buy something relatively expensive spontaneously. Sure, all is not rosey since I don't have any investments, and worse, my HECS is still ballooning, but there have been more serious issues that needed immediate attending. One, in particular, related to exactly what I would buy myself for my birthday! And so I ask ... What do you think a brand spanking new 26 year old would want for himself? Well, if you guessed a big screen tv, you're right on the money. I shopped around all weekend to find a suitable tv that fitted my budget, and after some research, I decided on the Sharp LC-37BEW2 - which is the Japanese version of the Sharp LC-37D90U in the US. It's a cool 37inches - which is perfect for my apartment, and it has a max resolution of 1920 x 1080. That's 1080p! So for all you non techie fans out there, it's the smallest screen available in the market today that is able to achieve such high resolutions. So bring me BluRay, HD-DVDs and the PS3 because I'm stocked up and prepared for the next generation of entertainment. Unfortunately, it's not here yet, so impatiently I wait for its delivery tomorrow.

While buying the tv has brought an unwipeable smile of anticipation on my face, my real joy is from the present my gf gave me. Believe it or not, she bought me a vacuum cleaner. I spread a fake smile over my confused interior as I thanked her for the unwanted present - a fair thought given that I already had a vacuum cleaner. But disappointment quickly turned to joy as I took it out of the box and discovered the amazing machinery that lay before my eyes. You see, my girlfriend knows I love electronics - not exactly a hard thing to pick up after one look at my apartment. What's hard is to find something I don't already have - especially something that's useful. Enter the 21st century vacuum cleaner by Electrolux.

This thing has it all. I can only marvel at its futuristic design, its inovation, and its ease of use. A cordless, but powerful vacuum cleaner? My words cannot describe the joy of freely moving about without the hassle of a cord, and then simply sticking it on its docking station after use. And if that wasn't enough reason to love it, the middle part snaps off to be a handheld vacuum cleaner for a super quick clean up of crumbs! A tear of joy fell slowly down my cheek as the feeling thought to have been lost graced my heart once more. I was in love. I was in love with the vacuum cleaner. Anyway, It doesn't really change the fact that I hate cleaning, but at least now, I can hate cleaning... with style.

Until next time. I hope I can sleep now.

PS Happy birthday Alice, Nhan and Noi! And oh, a really belated happy birthday to my cousin Cathy! And of course, an early happy birthday to Kat! otanjoubi omedetou!

So it's Wednesday again, and since my last post, my world has remained the same except for 2 events. One, it's become a hell of a lot warmer, and two, coming back from Tokyo, I realized how much I like Osaka's foods. Perhaps it was just bad luck that the food I ate didn't even come close to the exquisite taste of Osaka Cuisine, or that their pasta tasted like cardboard, or the onigiri that tasted slightly better than its plastic wrapping (I was eating it in the dark).  But when my gf welcomed me home from my 5 day trip with take away okonomiyaki and takoyaki, one mere bite was enough to let me know that I could never leave Osaka.

Coming from Australia, where my diet consisted of beef brisket from that restaurant in Bourke St (Red something), pasta from La Porcheta and souvlaki from Stalactites, adjusting to Japanese cuisine was no easy feat. Back in Melbourne, the flavor in the foods I ate, especially in the beef brisket, were so strong that the mere smell would take me into dreamland and bring me to fantasies a spoonful of the goodness being served by the goddesses of food. In Japan, while similarly styled foods exist, their taste is so far from authentic, that what they call Chinese food my as well be called bland Japanese food made to look like Chinese food, and the same could be said about the Italian and Greek foods. It was no surprise then that soon after arriving in Osaka, I lost a lot weight.

But what happened? Why then did the weight come back with a vengeance? Put simply, I adjusted and before I knew it, I learned to love Japanese food. Sushi, the most famous of Japanese foods, has captured my heart and given me an obsession with the raw fish - especially (cue music) oh for tuna (get it MHS guys?). But one can't enjoy the magic that is tuna unless you pay handsomely for it. And at $7 a bite, you'd better believe it's good. It's DAMN GOOD.

I have a little trouble with saving money, especially when I have no urgent need to (except to pay loans), so it's little wonder I have almost zero savings. But that's not to say that I've merely thrown away money because as a lover of fine clothing and electronics, I have everything I want or need. But should I have some cash to spare, there is no doubt that my first destination is that restaurant sitting at the 8th floor of the Hankyu building in Umeda (Osaka). In fact, they all know me quite well. I'm the one known as the foreigner who orders a plateful of nothing but tuna.

It's like a drug. One time, I ate 20, and would've kept going had I not run out of cash. When I'm not eating it, I think about it - how the thick redness of  tuna meat melts so effortlessly in my mouth, and enjoy as I suck the juices through my teeth. I'd never been a lover of expensive food, but this is one exception, and I really must thank people who catch these tunas from the west of Europe.

Lacking breakfast and a good night's sleep, I'm craving one now. And as I sit here alone in my booth, each tuna I imaginatively eat causes my eyelids to grow heavier.

3rd post for the day. Damn I love the free time I get in this school.

I think most of you know that I have a bad history of stomach problems. I've suffered from the worst diarrhea, to the worst constipation. Remember that time I walked funny because my bowels went on strike? I was literally full of shit. (cue drums and generic canned laughter. Laugh. NOW).

These days, while I'm suffering from the worst case of flatulence, and such a torture to have to deal with that, I have a more serious matter to worry about. Last month, I started to notice that my stomach would hurt quite a lot whenever I felt hunger, but the pain would go away after any meal. However, one day, the pain didn't go away so I went to a doctor, and after endless rummaging through his dictionary, he concluded that I have a stomach ulcer. Fuck.

Could it be punishment for my excessive eating of steaks in Guam? (Wow those steaks were huge. I swear I felt like I was eating half a cow each time.) Or could it have been from my unhealthy love of chocolate and cake? Well, whatever the reason, it seems it's here to stay. Luckily, it doesn't hurt as much anymore, but I've had to really up my fiber intake coz it at the same time I got that ulcer, I also became super constipated.

The worse punishment for this is that my stomach hurts when I drink beer.  A little is okay, but once I get close to just half a bottle, my stomach hurts. Now, all the VB in my fridge is just gonna go to waste. And that just sucks ass.

 

It seems I've developed a little reputation for being a good singer. People are expected to me modest here, and so when I said that I love singing despite not being able to, it was interpreted as me being a good singer.

Now, a lot of you have heard me sing and while there are moments when I sound like a pro, 99% of the time, it's terrible. And what makes it worse is that when I sing, I think I sound good, but upon viewing my score from the ever popular karaoke game, and worse, listening to a recording of my own voice, I get hit by reality so hard that I feel I never want to sing again. But I love singing. Singing is a great way to relieve stress and I can't imagine how insane I'd be should I never be allowed to sing again.

Even one of the greatest embarrassments of my life hasn't stopped me.

As a university student, I wasn't the most active when it came to club activities and such, so when I joined the Vietnamese club as a means to meet some chicks, I sought to be part of the committee, thinking it'd give me some much needed extra brownie points. Being the lazy prick that I am, I did nothing for the committee, which didn't bode well to my fellow committee members. Thus I was asked to be a contestant in a Victoria wide event that would see me do a catwalk in front of hundreds of people - as a duty for being part of the committee. Thinking it was one way to get in their good books and remain in the committee to support my pursuit for a hot chick, I agreed.

With only a week before the event, I was confronted by the committee president and given a new task. I'm not a modest person, so when I was told to perform a "talent" at the aforementioned event now called "Mr University", I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have any. I wracked my brain for a good week to think of something I was good at, but the only recurring thought was of backing out - that I had no place there anyway seeing as I wasn't a voluntary contestant in the first place. But then, thinking that an opportunity this grand to face my fears was something that may never arise again, I convinced myself to just do something anyway, and hope for the best.

And hope I did. I hoped and hoped and hoped. With my then good friend, Pat, as my backup guitarist, I sang my brains out. So much that I failed to sing in time, in key nor in tune. I wanted to die - especially when all I heard was a mere 1 or 2 claps in an otherwise dead silent hall of 400+ people. The shame I felt was almost enough to make me wanna leave the country.

Well whaddyaknow, I did leave the country, but of course, not because of that.

Thinking it was something I never had to do again, I failed to learn from the experience and I sang once again in front of hundreds of people. And while it was excruciating for the most part, it was only for a few seconds, and I was quite happy with it because I made someone, who once had a special place in my heart, happy. At least I think I did, or that's what she said.

These days, while it's been a long time since I've gone to karaoke, I never fail to miss a day without singing. Whether it be in the shower, while washing the dishes or walking alone from work. I just make sure it's not loud enough for other people to hear.

I'm back in web school and as usual, I'm killing time.

I had a conversation with my gf recently, and she brought up a topic I thought I'd been able to keep secret for the longest the time. Basically, she called me a geek. She said I'd lost all the coolness I had that attracted her to me, and that she knows I'm more happy sitting down playing video games or watching movies, than styling my hair like a Japanese actor and going out acting "cool". She went on to tell me about all the things she'd learnt - things I'd been too ashamed to reveal, including the confident exterior masking the insecure self. It was all disheartening to hear, until she graced me with her sweet concluding words. It was like that part in the movie where you sigh and think about how such a thing can't happen in real life. She said that all the things she said are what makes her happy - because she's the same too. We now regularly play video games together, watch movies, sleep for 12 hours, eat junk and get fat together.

So you can bet that I'm happy. So unbelievably happy that I think all the shit I've gone through in life has all been made up by my stay here in Japan.

Even when some things have become worse than I initially expected, like realising last night that my body fat percentage shot up from 10% to 22% in the last year, I was too happy to care - even scoffing down a block of "crunky" (it says so on the packet) chocolate, as soon as I got home from a long session at the gym (admittedly just sitting in the massage chair, watching tv).

I feel good, always smiling, and unusually confident. And nothing could possibly make me feel down.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any better, my work schedule has been updated and I'm absolutely loving my classes. Sure, there are seemingly more temptations this time round, with a few girls already slipping me notes with their email addresses, but that only adds to my confidence. Most of my students are eager to learn, which only motivates me to do a better job.

I know this current state can't last, but hell I'm gonna enjoy this. This post will be a permanent reminder of how good things can be when I encounter set backs in the future.

 

It's the middle of the day. I'm sitting here in a small booth, alone, drowning in white fluoro light, and I'm wondering what to do since I have no classes in web school (teaching via video conferencing). I'm in the area of this school known as Canada, admittedly the nicer of the other area called Australia. I dunno how that reflects the real countries though.

While I struggle to keep my bored eyes from calling it a day, there is a lot to type. It's been a busy month since my last update - especially with White day, my gf's birthday, my trip to Guam, and my first university class.

University class? Everyone I've mentioned this to has had the same reaction. Yep, I teach at a university once week. Yes, there are a lot of chicks. Yes, some are really hot. And no, I'm not gonna go down that road. As my good side talked me into acting like a professional, a group of girls broke the concentration when they asked if I had a girlfriend. Ye, the temptation is great, but my will is good. Very good. Sure, my good side took a beating, but while my bad side reveled in what he thought was a victory, my good side miraculously came back to life and kicked the bad boy`s ass. I love teaching and I wouldn`t do anything to jeopardize this job. Cue the image of me in a red devil suit, bruised and beaten, but already scheming for the next attack.

Even without the university, my job has been great. In fact, generally, life is sweet. I love how people here are more welcoming and more polite than back home. You could make friends with anyone, and being cool doesn't involve partying every weekend, or taking any drugs. There are some downsides though, and for the most part, the language barrier is beginning to really get to me. I'm generally happy here, however, there have been a few incidents that have shitted me.

I had an incident in an elevator with some black guy with a Jamaican accent in a crowded elevator, who simply would not shut up about the lack of space in the elevator. Standing next to this guy, I gave him the `try anything on me and I`ll fuck you up` look, while everyone else cowered in fear of the threatening foreigner. This person complained that people crowded around him, all the while, swearing, before leaving the elevator and hitting some poor Japanese man on the way out. Coward. I almost wanted him to try something on me so I could kick his lily ass.

So anyway, today marks the beginning of the new school year, and I can't help but reminisce about the year gone by. I already miss some of my students - adults and kids alike, and I kinda regret not going back to some of my previous schools.

There`s one kid who was by far my favorite student. Apart from her calling me papa, she was such an angel. The little 4 year old was the model student who made teaching the class such a joy. On the last day, her mother told her that it'd be the last time we'd see each other, so she ran over to me, tears in her eyes, and hugged me. Even I almost cried. She's a smart girl - smarter than all of my 8 year olds. I'm sure that one day she's going to achieve great things.

Being a new academic year, I've made some new year resolutions to give me some hope that I can achieve something for once.

I really have to start learning Japanese. I have a girlfriend who speaks very little English, which, truth be told, has been a great blessing, but I think it`s time we started doing more intellectual things like talking. It had always been my aim to find a gf I didn't have to talk to so much, and now that I have one, it's starting to get stale. Also, we seem to speak our own language which is a combination of English mixed with simplified Japanese grammar so that's really gotta stop.

I need to start going to the gym regularly. Despite the enjoyment I get from a gf who's purposely making me fat to ease her insecurities, I now have a pot and man boobies. Despite being useful for some great party tricks (the pot, not the boobies), my problem is my shrinking wardrobe. I`m down to my last pair of jeans that fit, and my already tight tshirts have become even tighter. Dammit.

So this is the end of this month's update. I've been asked about when I'll return to Melbourne. The answer? I don't know. I don't feel there's much to return to... apart from, of course, my dear dear friends who I miss so much. I'm gonna be here for at least another year, and then perhaps move to Brisbane or something. I dunno. I'll have a clearer answer next year.

Till next time. Take care!

PS My girlfriend is addicted to Onimusha while I've been addicted to Ninja Gaiden Black for Xbox. Man, that game shits all over Shinobi - which I got too bored to finish.

PPS I ended up getting some students, but it was great surfing the net for most of the day.

Here's a long a overdue update.

Well Valentine's Day's come and gone, and believe or not, it was an absolutely huge event here.

I'm quite proud to say that I didn't spend a single cent. As soon as I got home from work, my girlfriend greeted me with a, "let's go... and leave your wallet", before whisking me away to a night of free super high class food, free karaoke, and free... presents.

And that was a great night. Unfortunately, in a couple weeks will be White Day here, which is pretty much like Valentine's Day, except it's the mens turn to pamper. Being that my gf's birthday is close to that day I'm set for a big $$$ loss. And it's hard to spend money when you work so hard for it. Sitting down, eating presents from the students, talking about myself all day long is really taxing on the body.

So enough of that. There's only one reason why I'm here, and, surprise surprise, it's because I can't sleep again. What do you do when you close your eyes and actually see more than when they're open? Well, in my case, I go crazy. But tonight, I'm gonna try and fall asleep by writing something in my blog. It's an entertaining activity that I invite anyone to try and do should your mind decide to be the last part of your body that wants to sleep. Sure, you might end up with something disturbing, but for the most part, it's a great thing to look back on.

A recurring though tonight is how I met friends who've really influenced me in a lot of ways. When I was in grade 5, I began a new journey in a new school, and having been the popular lad in my previous school, I was very confident I could remake a whole new band of merry men to worship me for my uber coolness. Things didn't go so well as I realised my style of comedy and endless pursuit of being the smartest didn't bode so well with my new peers, but there was one guy who made it all better - and his name was Nhan. Along with Trent, we quickly made a trio, and while I missed the feeling of being a leader, I was more than happy being part of the coolest biking group in all of Sunshine East Primary School.

Nhan was an awesome friend, and as we rode our bikes - his being a shiny new mountain bike, and mine being a $5 girls bike, into the sunset almost every weekend, I could not be any happier. I always looked up to him, and while there were times I thought he was a dick, 99% of the time, he was the coolest guy in the world (second only to me of course).

After following him to the same local high school, I switched schools in hope to get a challenge from the boredom I felt in my previous school, but at the same time, I had to make some hefty sacrifices - that being my friends, my then love of my life named Lee (she's a girl in case the name strikes any wrong ideas), and of course, Nhan.

As I look back now and see why Nhan and I got along so well, I can't, for the life of me, remember how exactly we met. I have this imagination that he and Trent somehow knew where I lived and came over on a bright sunny day, asked my dad if I could come out, and the rest being history, but then I remember another friend do that, the then druggy Huy, who was also another cool guy, but that's a story for another day. I feel quite guilty for being so unsure, but hey, maybe it's just because I can't sleep.

Anyway, as I type this, I\m suddenly reminded of all the things I've been guilty of, but never set straight.

I remember a couple of friends back in high school, twins called Howe and Chang, who were really good guys, and even let me off for fucking up their computer. I remember it was my birthday and they bought me a brown shirt that I absolutely loved. We were good buddies up until a few months later when it was their birthday - I believe it was in September. They told me it was their birthday, but being the pranksters they had become, I didn't believe them, so I shrugged them off, pretending not to care. Little did I know that it was actually their birthday, but my pride didn't allow me to apologise when I finally came to realise my mistake. And so from that day, we drifted apart, and while I saw them a couple of times when I changed schools, the stream between us had become an ocean and we were no longer friends.

Wow I could go on and on, but really, I've lost a lot of in interest with this blog because I'm afraid I'll be able to look back and see the point where my English has taken a downward spiral. I'm already finding myself in a stupor when I'm asked some seemingly basic grammar questions. In fact, there was a little debate going on between a couple of teachers, and I really really wanted to give my point of view, but i think what little wit I had in the first place packed its bags and moved to a new city because there's no sign of activity left in that part of my brain. It's such a tragedy especially since I actually look hella smart, but that whole impression flies out the window the moment I open my mouth.

Woah, where did that rant come from. Anyway, in hindsight I guess it's only natural that such a thing could happen being that I don't read anything, and the only English I get to speak is a dumbed down version to my students, friends, and gf. There are exceptions, but they are rare, and when they do come, they end too quickly. Naturally, this should mean my Japanese must be awesome by now, unfortunately ,that's not the case cause everyone speaks English to me. I suppose they do tend to use Japanese grammar from time to time so perhaps, somewhere in my rotting brain, it's sinking in. Hey, maybe at that small lot my wit once occupied.

So it's now 4am. I have to get up in 4 hours. I'm wide awake. I'm now thinking about other old friends - including Keith, who I critisized for looking like a nerd when he got glasses, when actually I was jealous because he looked good.

Anyway, I'm gonna leave this for now, and reread this next time to see if what I've written is actually disturbing or not. So goodnight, and I pray that I can sleep tight.

But first...

Here's an update on the high school girl that likes me.

As a symbol of my growing relationship with my gf, I regularly wear the ring she gave me for Christmas, but on any random finger except for the ring fingers. Unfortunately, with my rising weight, I could no longer fit the ring on any finger except my pinkys... and the left ring finger. Failing to think of the consequences, I wore the ring on the ring finger and went into class.

"Are you married?", quizzed my female student.

My brain failed me again as I answered with a nonchalant, "yeah, of course", before I spent the next 5 minutes trying to figure out how to liven up my student who'd buried her face in her hands. Anyway, she ignored me for the rest of the class.

Ok so that wasn't such an interesting story, but I'd recorded a whole bunch of things on a little book that has now gone missing - along with a couple of socks (non pairs) and my favorite pen. However, apart from the time I spent writing those things, I feel no sense of loss simply because I've lost something more significant - something so dear to me that my heart yearns for that part of me to come back. Alas, it is gone, and I grieve for the loss.

My darling umbrella, who had been with me through all my years in Melbourne, whose one of a kind design earned the praises of my Japanese peers, was today left on the train.

It all started when I glimpsed the dark clouds gathering over the morning sky.

"Don't forget to take me!" Said my umbrella in its usual cheery manner.

"It's been a long time, ey", said I as I took the umbrella from its stand. And as I walked the wet streets of Osaka, a delightful tune caught my ear to which reminded me of the joy that is singing in the rain.

I was met with an unusally crowded train, but as luck would have it, a man decided to leave a seat in the last seconds of the train's stop, leaving an empty seat for me, and a very convenient metal frame for my umbrella. Like a parent over a child, I held my umbrella tighly, as I leaned my head back on the wall to ponder over the day's plans. Unfortunately, the sleepless nights began taking its toll, and as my increasingly heavy eyelids drew me away from consciousness, my hand ominously let slip of my darling umbrella before I began my adventures in dreamland (with 2 lucky ladies).

As a testament to my remarkable ability to wake up at the right train station, I woke up in time to see the train slowly coming to a halt at one of the busiest stations in Osaka. I got up, and with other like minded people, uniformly walked out of the train, and on to the platform.

No sooner did I feel a loss and realise I left my darling umbrella on the train. I quickly turned back, disrupted the line of black coated people, and ran back to the now nigh empty train. In what seemed like half a second before I got there, the doors closed. And as the train began its journey to the its next destination, I could only see the sight of my umbrella, as it slowly disappeared into the horizon.

A raindrop fell from the sky and conveniently planted itself in my eye. And as I reminsced about all the good times I had with my darling umbrella, I could only muster myself to say one thing. Fuck.

Going on 2 days of pretty much no sleep now, I think it's ripe for a new post.

It's now 2006, and typically, the previous year came and went faster than any other year - but what a year it was. Full of troubles and triumphs, last year makes for a worthy addition to the never ending melodrama that is my life. And as I look back at the pages of the recently finished chapter, and contemplate on why the only English my brain lets me use are overused cliches, I wonder what's in store for me this year.

Sitting here, beer in hand, I look ahead and try to see through the fog of doubt, procrastination and other negative habits I have to get some idea of what positive things I can expect this year. Will I achieve anything? Will my career take an unexpected turn and finally follow the gracious steps two fortune tellers have foretold I would make and be the rich man I'm destined to be? With the jungle of thoughts that have plagued me the last couple nights, which explains my lack of sleep, I'm finding myself being overcome by a wall of endless questions that my overly active but tired mind can't answer.

So now, like an analogy of my life, my mind's decided to run away from the questions, and find a new path to achieve answers. The path behind me is clearer so I've now now taken to looking back, past the previous year, and examine the changes I've gone through to become the person I am today - which is still a nobody, but a happier one at the least - perhaps to give me an idea of what changes I can expect.

Hmmm....

If could take back one thing I've lost in the past, it would be my old diaries - which were actually about 3-4 books in total, which is not exactly one thing as I said earlier in this sentence, but I'm not counting. In those diaries, in between commenting on anything my endlessly wandering mind decided to set its limited attention on to, I made thorough examinations of myself, commenting on the changes I'd made to become "the better person", and the planned steps I needed to take to achieve certain goals. Strangely enough, I wrote my diaries in exactly the same fashion as I do now, writing or typing the first things that seeped out of my mind, with the idea that it could capture my general train of thought for future nostalgic purposes. Unfortunately, some disturbing entries that I wanted to forget led me burn the diaries before I left for Japan, so gone are entries, and gone are the many memories I treasured so much to record, much like the many other memories that were once so vivid that there was no need to record anything.

And now, back to reality, I struggle to keep open my increasingly heavy eyelids as the strain of looking at a monitor finally takes hold.