Death is long and painful and starts when you begin to cling to hope.
To money.
To loved ones.
Right about the time you finish school and stop counting the years.
Your memory fragments.
You've lived countless lives, but they're all barely relavant to your current one.
And day by day,
you die.
You wake up and are reborn to die again.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Monkey at the Elephant Camp
The Monkey at the Elephant Camp
When you were young, you were taken from your family or found bawling your little eyes out in hunger. You’re not sure. The people who found you took you to their elephant camp. They gave you milk, played with you, and they laughed and laughed. You felt warm.
When you got older, they sat you on the perch. You thought it was another game. They put a collar around your neck and tied the collar to the supporting wall. You reached out for them, but the collar held you back. If you move too far away from the perch, you fall from the perch. The collar presses tightly against your neck. It feels hard to breathe. You become scared. The people laugh and laugh and help you back on to the perch. You cling tightly to them when they hold you. You feel warm again. There are times you try to take the collar off. It is leather and feels strange against your fur. You have tried to push the collar over your head with your legs. It moves slightly, but your head is bigger than the collar is wide. The people have watched you do this sometimes. They laughed and came to play with you. You felt warm.
There are elephants in the camp tied to posts with metal chains. They step back and forth, moan, and when you watch them for too long you feel dizzy. They blow their trunks and sigh. Their eyes look blank and distant.
The people who take care of you also take care of other people. They go to together on top of the elephants. Before they ride the elephants, they often like to come and see you. Sometimes you wish you could hide and not let them come. All the attention is boring to you. There were times before where you felt hot and wanted them to go away and you shrieked at them and you tried to hurt them so they would go away and the people who take care of you came. They were angry and big. They made loud noises and you felt scared. You stopped shrieking. You felt cold.
The sun comes up. The people wake up. They take you to your perch and put the collar on your neck. You watch the other people come and go. You play with them when you want to, other times you look away and wait for them to go. Sometimes you want something sometimes you’re not sure what. You try to tell the people around you, but they often don’t understand. You give up. You watch the elephants. When the people finish eating, they give you the scraps. It is good. Some days it rains all day. The rain falls on the clay ground. It becomes muddy and sticks to the elephants and the people’s clothing. Sometimes you watch the cars and motorbikes pass. A few times, the people on the motorbikes have fallen over. They cried loudly. Smoke came up from their motorbikes. It smelled bad.
The people who take care of you wait for the other people come and go. They make noises with each other. You have heard these noises a long time and seen patterns. Sometimes you understand the noises. Often, you don’t care.
You sleep. Some one wakes you up. You roll over and go back to sleep. The sun goes down. Then the air is cooler. The people take you into their house. Sometimes they take off the collar. If you do something they don’t like, they put the collar back on. Sometimes you do the things they don’t like. You know they don’t like them. You don’t care.
Another sun comes up. You go out to the perch. You play, you watch, you sleep. Then the sun goes down. A moon comes up. The people sleep. Sometimes at night you see the animals that look like you, other monkeys. They don’t like the people. The monkeys stare at you. They make noises you don’t understand. It bores you.
Dogs come too. Sometimes they stare, sometimes they try to smell you, but your perch is tall. They can’t reach. They bark. They want to play or want to know what you are. You don’t understand. When cats come, they pretend not to watch you. At night, you hear the geckos. They are loud and make the same noise all night. They eat insects. You do that too. Ants crawl on your perch. You pick them up and watch them crawl on your arms. You eat them. They crawl around on your tongue. It tickles.
The sun comes up again. You go to your perch and wait for something you feel interested in to come.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Another Sunday
Sunday is the day for rehbilitation. For putting back all the bits you took apart last night when you were puking your guts out over the toilet. Lying to the guy trying to help you that you'd drink your water and eat the yogurt as soon as he goes back to his card game. You can hear the others talking about you. How you should have known better. When you raise your head, a wave of naseua hits again.
On Sunday, you try to let that go and with newfound optimism clean your apartment's debris with the bright shiny feeling that "Yes, you can get through the next week" and "Yes, you'll take better care of yourself."
Before the debauchery of Saturday night was Squash, and learning to like a new person, and dreams of the far off future playing basketball or tennis with your father. At a ripe age, but still healthy and vigorous. A jumpshot with good form and a better dribbler than you.
In the meantime, you let go a little bit. Fatty foods, Snickers, and sweet teeth-dissolving Pepsi alongside fruit, chilli peppers, and dental hygiene gum.
You think about a song you used to listen to when you were younger, and see new meaning in its words. Amid the narrative of a failed relationship were the realities of adulthood that are slipping through to you now.
You read about a journalist fighting against censorship in a futuristic city where anything is possible and think about everything you've ever heard instead of listening to.
On the ride home from your friend's place were signs of renewed political conflict, closed streets and vendors selling red shirts and other red-related merchandise. After a long period searching yourself, you realized what's changed between then and now. The last time, you had an opinion.
Maybe you still do. There is an noticeable lack of young faces, students, young urban professionals in the crowds.
Your friend has recently sworn against rehabilitation Sundays, desires a change in his life, and repeats this desire as if to convince himself before four beers and authentic margaritas change his mind.
At the train station, they were filming a music video and wanted you to participate, and you immediately felt regret as you refused. The girl who asked you looked dissapointed, but easily found an over-eager participant, delighted in the chance to be a part of the country's culture he was travelling in.
You tell yourself that you want to be on TV for the right reasons, but the regret still pains you.
This is a good Sunday. On a bad Sunday, you risk doing the same boring things you did the day before, struggling for something to hold your interest and yet still appeal to your drive for self-improvement.
This is an acceptable way to spend a life. Maybe even an encouraged one. On a seven day week, Thursday is the worst day. Saturday is hopefully the best, and Sunday is your day.
On Sunday, you try to let that go and with newfound optimism clean your apartment's debris with the bright shiny feeling that "Yes, you can get through the next week" and "Yes, you'll take better care of yourself."
Before the debauchery of Saturday night was Squash, and learning to like a new person, and dreams of the far off future playing basketball or tennis with your father. At a ripe age, but still healthy and vigorous. A jumpshot with good form and a better dribbler than you.
In the meantime, you let go a little bit. Fatty foods, Snickers, and sweet teeth-dissolving Pepsi alongside fruit, chilli peppers, and dental hygiene gum.
You think about a song you used to listen to when you were younger, and see new meaning in its words. Amid the narrative of a failed relationship were the realities of adulthood that are slipping through to you now.
You read about a journalist fighting against censorship in a futuristic city where anything is possible and think about everything you've ever heard instead of listening to.
On the ride home from your friend's place were signs of renewed political conflict, closed streets and vendors selling red shirts and other red-related merchandise. After a long period searching yourself, you realized what's changed between then and now. The last time, you had an opinion.
Maybe you still do. There is an noticeable lack of young faces, students, young urban professionals in the crowds.
Your friend has recently sworn against rehabilitation Sundays, desires a change in his life, and repeats this desire as if to convince himself before four beers and authentic margaritas change his mind.
At the train station, they were filming a music video and wanted you to participate, and you immediately felt regret as you refused. The girl who asked you looked dissapointed, but easily found an over-eager participant, delighted in the chance to be a part of the country's culture he was travelling in.
You tell yourself that you want to be on TV for the right reasons, but the regret still pains you.
This is a good Sunday. On a bad Sunday, you risk doing the same boring things you did the day before, struggling for something to hold your interest and yet still appeal to your drive for self-improvement.
This is an acceptable way to spend a life. Maybe even an encouraged one. On a seven day week, Thursday is the worst day. Saturday is hopefully the best, and Sunday is your day.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Only a Year
People are bored in Bangkok.
The TV is work's background noise.
Anecdotes are shared between friedns
Who laugh and jossle each other.
"It's just for fun.
Don't be serious.
We're just playing."
There is karaoke.
The MV shows a hard-working man.
Another missed call.
What could she be doing?
Then a set of photos hidden.
She found them, cleaning.
She cries, but keeps quiet.
He knows. She knows.
How long will he keep lying?
The phone rings.
The taxi asks,
"Where are you?"
like an inspector
interrogating a witness.
Guilty until guilty.
The top hit is "24/7"
All day every day.
Their next hit is "Soft, soft"
Gentle love.
They like to ask me if I'm single.
Marriage sometimes comes up.
I grab a co-worker's hand
and everyone laughs.
An honest mistake.
It used to mean a ring.
When she calls,
I can't think of anything to say.
She can't either.
Always the same.
They say we can't understand.
It's too complicated.
We weren't born and raised here.
What if we could?
We are the language we speak
and our cultural beliefs.
Our environments are unique
so is the happiness we seek.
I give up.
Many of us still call it "home"
'cause we're going back.
The TV is work's background noise.
Anecdotes are shared between friedns
Who laugh and jossle each other.
"It's just for fun.
Don't be serious.
We're just playing."
There is karaoke.
The MV shows a hard-working man.
Another missed call.
What could she be doing?
Then a set of photos hidden.
She found them, cleaning.
She cries, but keeps quiet.
He knows. She knows.
How long will he keep lying?
The phone rings.
The taxi asks,
"Where are you?"
like an inspector
interrogating a witness.
Guilty until guilty.
The top hit is "24/7"
All day every day.
Their next hit is "Soft, soft"
Gentle love.
They like to ask me if I'm single.
Marriage sometimes comes up.
I grab a co-worker's hand
and everyone laughs.
An honest mistake.
It used to mean a ring.
When she calls,
I can't think of anything to say.
She can't either.
Always the same.
They say we can't understand.
It's too complicated.
We weren't born and raised here.
What if we could?
We are the language we speak
and our cultural beliefs.
Our environments are unique
so is the happiness we seek.
I give up.
Many of us still call it "home"
'cause we're going back.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
So You're Thinking of Teaching in Thailand, eh?
I am on my way home by the end of March. It's been a real good experience, but I'm having a lot of difficulty dealing with the Thai public education system, so I want out and I want a break from education systems for a while.
If you're interested in teaching in Thailand, I suggest you look for an international school outside of Bangkok. Bangkok is over-crowded and not a particularly well-planned city. Getting from one place to another takes a fair amount of time unless you whiz around the traffic on a motorbike. Bangkok is also very interesting because you could spend a lifetime in it and still find something new every day.
Chiang Mai is supposed to be very nice. Pattaya is very nice. It gets a bad reputation because of its Walking Street (a.k.a. Red Light District), but it's actually a pretty beautiful part of the country. There's an island (Koh Larn) nearby which you can take a ferry to most hours of the day.
I've heard some horror stories about international schools making contradictory or outlandish requests of their teachers like teaching Romeo & Juliet to 8th grade students who could barely carry speak or read. I've also heard stories about unfair treatment like my friend who was a volunteer coach for her school's basketball team until she was asked to stop because her kids complained to their parents that she made the kids show up on time and maintain a high grade point average. I mean, every school has its quirks.
The problem I've had with the public school I'm in is I have too many students and I have too little time to teach them (once a week with forty or more students), so we don't really know or understand each other. On top of that, I have Thai co-teachers who have been teaching English for 20 years or more, but could care less about the students they're teaching; treat cheating and plaguarism as facts of life; and barely understand me when I ask for help or try to talk casually. I wouldn't reccommend applying to the school I'm in now. There are lots of job postings on this site (http://www.ajarn.com/).
My best experience was with this teaching agency (http://www.aycthailand.com/). They put me in a private primary school where I could teach the same set of students 3 to 6 times a week. I had to teach from a silly book (most books are silly because they're published in other countries and Thailand's culture is quite different from most), but I had fun, the co-teachers were friendly and spoke English pretty well, and the students were learning. I also got long vacations.
My friend works for this company (http://www.wallstreet.in.th/). He says they're a little scatterbrained, but they pay well and the job is not too difficult. You don't get a lot of vacation time though.
With foreign travel comes the responsibility not to make an ass out of yourself. In other words, foreigners have a bad reputation because some leave their manners at home. A bad impression leaves a deeper impression than a good one. Thai people like to have fun, but they have limits and its important to learn and understand those limits in order to build better relations between Thailand and the rest of the world. It's important to keep a positive attitude, be patient and understanding no matter how rudely you are treated. Thai people may not like conflict, but if you push them too far, they are more than willing to push back harder. If you know you're being tricked, try to have some way to prove it whether it be real proof, make some up (a.k.a. lie), or try some other way to negotiate. Anger or violence should not be the last resort. Walking away or giving in are much better alternatives.
Of course, this advice and any advice from travel guide books should be taken with a grain of salt. If you feel mistreated, say so or remove yourself from the situation. A few times I've ignored mistreatment because I thought there was some cultural misunderstanding only to find out later that I was letting someone take advantage of me.
Good Luck!
โชคดี (chok dii)!
If you're interested in teaching in Thailand, I suggest you look for an international school outside of Bangkok. Bangkok is over-crowded and not a particularly well-planned city. Getting from one place to another takes a fair amount of time unless you whiz around the traffic on a motorbike. Bangkok is also very interesting because you could spend a lifetime in it and still find something new every day.
Chiang Mai is supposed to be very nice. Pattaya is very nice. It gets a bad reputation because of its Walking Street (a.k.a. Red Light District), but it's actually a pretty beautiful part of the country. There's an island (Koh Larn) nearby which you can take a ferry to most hours of the day.
I've heard some horror stories about international schools making contradictory or outlandish requests of their teachers like teaching Romeo & Juliet to 8th grade students who could barely carry speak or read. I've also heard stories about unfair treatment like my friend who was a volunteer coach for her school's basketball team until she was asked to stop because her kids complained to their parents that she made the kids show up on time and maintain a high grade point average. I mean, every school has its quirks.
The problem I've had with the public school I'm in is I have too many students and I have too little time to teach them (once a week with forty or more students), so we don't really know or understand each other. On top of that, I have Thai co-teachers who have been teaching English for 20 years or more, but could care less about the students they're teaching; treat cheating and plaguarism as facts of life; and barely understand me when I ask for help or try to talk casually. I wouldn't reccommend applying to the school I'm in now. There are lots of job postings on this site (http://www.ajarn.com/).
My best experience was with this teaching agency (http://www.aycthailand.com/). They put me in a private primary school where I could teach the same set of students 3 to 6 times a week. I had to teach from a silly book (most books are silly because they're published in other countries and Thailand's culture is quite different from most), but I had fun, the co-teachers were friendly and spoke English pretty well, and the students were learning. I also got long vacations.
My friend works for this company (http://www.wallstreet.in.th/). He says they're a little scatterbrained, but they pay well and the job is not too difficult. You don't get a lot of vacation time though.
With foreign travel comes the responsibility not to make an ass out of yourself. In other words, foreigners have a bad reputation because some leave their manners at home. A bad impression leaves a deeper impression than a good one. Thai people like to have fun, but they have limits and its important to learn and understand those limits in order to build better relations between Thailand and the rest of the world. It's important to keep a positive attitude, be patient and understanding no matter how rudely you are treated. Thai people may not like conflict, but if you push them too far, they are more than willing to push back harder. If you know you're being tricked, try to have some way to prove it whether it be real proof, make some up (a.k.a. lie), or try some other way to negotiate. Anger or violence should not be the last resort. Walking away or giving in are much better alternatives.
Of course, this advice and any advice from travel guide books should be taken with a grain of salt. If you feel mistreated, say so or remove yourself from the situation. A few times I've ignored mistreatment because I thought there was some cultural misunderstanding only to find out later that I was letting someone take advantage of me.
Good Luck!
โชคดี (chok dii)!
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