Demanding

I sit and stare at the computer screen.

I sit and stare some more. A few hours pass and it's time for lunch. Having feasted on an incredibly affordable take out meal courtesy of a noodle man in a van, I continue the arduous routine of the sit/stare task.

Nothing wavers me. Not the phones ringing at desks of industrious co-workers, not their rapid-fire discussions dismantling issues tantamount to bursting dykes and reducing them to small, quivering leaks. I am a turret atop my cubicled walls.

This is a fantasy. I am in fact more ready to slouch then slump, a hair's width away from falling into complete unconsciousness at experiencing the kind of boredom that stems from the fully concentrated, triple-distilled, pure essence of having Absolutely Nothing To Do. There isn't even a reason for me to pretend to look busy: my boss is away and I am tucked neatly into a corner cubicle. I could sleep under my desk, though I'm sure someone is bound to discover me once the smell of decay reaches them in a few weeks.

I fear I am losing my professional edge. Coming up with these words required the kind of mental acuity not demanded in my job of late. My vision is blurred, my head warm and heavy. My backside is numb from prolonged sitting. I need a good lie down so I can do it all again tomorrow.

Small Things

I buy breakfast in Taipei. One rice ball (stuffed with pickled white radish, pork floss and fried dough stick - trust me, it's good) costs NTD$30. I buy the same rice ball, plus soy milk, in Taichung and it's also NT$30.

A very small yet affective way of demonstrating the difference in cost of living between major and minor cities.

QED

...Ok, so it's a very slow morning at work today. Actually everyday is a slow day at work for me. I feel like I'm getting away with being paid for doing not very much at all. I suppose it's not much different to my last job in Canada, I didn't do much there at all either, but I didn't have a manager sitting right behind me like I do here now, so any chance I have to sneak a line or two onto this blog is considered subversive behaviour. Hence the gratification. Ah the gratification.

Sometimes I Wonder

On the front page of our intranet today I found out our company "...sponsors a mobile library for the visually-impaired..."

What kind of a cruel, sick gift is this? A mobile library? If the blind ever wanted to re-visit the library they're up for a hell of a time if it kept moving up and down the road!

Drunk Koreans

"Hey man."

We look over. "Hey. Cheers." It's directed at my American Friend. A nod is returned and we resume our conversation. "Hey man," Uh-oh. Drunken conversation about to overtake inhibition and logic. "You're cool. You American?" Yes was the reply. "I like-a you speak English." The next question was directed at me. "You American?" No was MY reply (who would have thought?). This apparently was of no interest to the enquirer and our new aquaintance resumed all eyes and attention to my friend, who was being very accommodating.

"I sit?" he says as he plonks down opposite us, deserting his Sober Friend at the next table. Sober Friend was a good man. He could sense the evening could turn at any stage and he joined us to keep an eye on his friend for fear of disgrace and would apologise intermittenly for the rest of the evening for his friend's gradual descent into incoherancy.

A round of drinks is ordered and Mr Drunk downs a full glass of red like it was a shot. After he's already had beer and whisky for many hours prior. Sober Friend begins to act as translator, though I think some parts he made up himself. For like when the two would seem to be arguing amongst themselves in Korean for a few minutes, furrowed brow and arms gesticulating, before Sober Friend turns to us in an aura of calm to ask, "Where you work?"

Lots of little conversations ensued, each of us having snippets of each other's conversations.

Drunk to American: You look like artist.
American to Drunk: Haha, I'm not.
Me to Drunk: He's a writer.
American to Me: Don't lie now.
Drunk to American: Hey I'm talking to you.
Sober to Drunk: (Korean) &^%*)%#.
American to Drunk: What...?
Sober to American: 足球... We play on Saturday...
Drunk to American: (Korean) *%#@(_#...
American to Me: You were saying?
Me to Sober: 足球? Oh soccer...
Drunk to American: I like you.

It was getting awkward and we were the last customers left in the bar. The music had stopped. The lights seemed brighter. Mr Drunk was however quite at ease and smiles benignly. We sit. Eventually he decides it was time to go. Sober Friend bids us farewell and like a lifesaver, guides Mr Drunk gingerly through the door.