Last night
Last night, I got a raise from my boss and managed to wangle one fewer day at work. My passive aggression worked, at last. This is good, since I haven't got the guts for aggressive aggression. Then, I coaxed G, a fellow workmate, to come out to a bar where we were to meet a couple of friends.
Walking through Dotombori Arcade on the way there, I paused to take a picture and a girl appeared from the crowd and circled us. At first, I thought it was nothing, just a short cut, but she then she started doing laps, eyeing off G the whole time. Either she wanted a piece of Doug and hence was trying to see off her rival, or she wanted G and was telling her so via intense eye contact. We waited for her to complete half of her circuit before making a dash for freedom, leaving the mystery behind us. I still have no idea what that was all about.
We walked into the bar and were immediately immersed in hiphop and strange looks. One of the guys we were meeting knew the bar staff very well and disappeared into a back room for a while, returning with a little plastic bag of expensive white powder from Colombia. He then snorted quite a bit of it, openly. The rest of the patrons paid no notice. It was that kind of bar, the type you hear of but never find. Then the TV screen started playing hiphop music videos, but not the kind that MTV shows. These music videos were basically porn with more wiggling and a token singer all covered in bling. It was that kind of bar.
---
I was thinking of leaving my job, because I'd been put in with the newest kids, the crying machines and I couldn't hack it. Taking the one-year old kids away from their parents is so, so difficult. I feel like an paid abductor - you wrench them out of their arms, the kids cry for 6 solid hours between shitting themselves, pouring soup over their heads, crying some more and vomiting before the mothers return and magically the child stops crying and is at peace once more, while we lie on the floor like dead fish. It's like the children are machines whose sole purpose is to be reunited with their mothers; if that purpose is denied, they will express distress until the only person in the whole world who can fulfil that purpose returns. So kids go through the motions of singing and dancing and playing blocks, routine, but they cry while playing, while singing - they do both at the same time.
Luckily, I've been relocated upstairs with my favourite kids once more and all was well. God, I'm attached to them. They are all adorable cherubs, with the exception of two, who are bullies and nasty managers in the making. There is something absolutely wonderful about being the one chosen to have their shoulder cried on. Rai - my favourite kid in the world - is usually a mischievious and playful little lassie, but when she cries, she comes to me to do it and I sit against the wall with her hot tears soaking my shirt and everything is all right in the world.
---
This week is Golden Week in Japan - a prized week in which three national holidays fall on consecutive days midweek and employers give the other two days off. The country will almost shut down and holiday spots will explode into action.
Last night, I got a raise from my boss and managed to wangle one fewer day at work. My passive aggression worked, at last. This is good, since I haven't got the guts for aggressive aggression. Then, I coaxed G, a fellow workmate, to come out to a bar where we were to meet a couple of friends.
Walking through Dotombori Arcade on the way there, I paused to take a picture and a girl appeared from the crowd and circled us. At first, I thought it was nothing, just a short cut, but she then she started doing laps, eyeing off G the whole time. Either she wanted a piece of Doug and hence was trying to see off her rival, or she wanted G and was telling her so via intense eye contact. We waited for her to complete half of her circuit before making a dash for freedom, leaving the mystery behind us. I still have no idea what that was all about.
We walked into the bar and were immediately immersed in hiphop and strange looks. One of the guys we were meeting knew the bar staff very well and disappeared into a back room for a while, returning with a little plastic bag of expensive white powder from Colombia. He then snorted quite a bit of it, openly. The rest of the patrons paid no notice. It was that kind of bar, the type you hear of but never find. Then the TV screen started playing hiphop music videos, but not the kind that MTV shows. These music videos were basically porn with more wiggling and a token singer all covered in bling. It was that kind of bar.
---
I was thinking of leaving my job, because I'd been put in with the newest kids, the crying machines and I couldn't hack it. Taking the one-year old kids away from their parents is so, so difficult. I feel like an paid abductor - you wrench them out of their arms, the kids cry for 6 solid hours between shitting themselves, pouring soup over their heads, crying some more and vomiting before the mothers return and magically the child stops crying and is at peace once more, while we lie on the floor like dead fish. It's like the children are machines whose sole purpose is to be reunited with their mothers; if that purpose is denied, they will express distress until the only person in the whole world who can fulfil that purpose returns. So kids go through the motions of singing and dancing and playing blocks, routine, but they cry while playing, while singing - they do both at the same time.
Luckily, I've been relocated upstairs with my favourite kids once more and all was well. God, I'm attached to them. They are all adorable cherubs, with the exception of two, who are bullies and nasty managers in the making. There is something absolutely wonderful about being the one chosen to have their shoulder cried on. Rai - my favourite kid in the world - is usually a mischievious and playful little lassie, but when she cries, she comes to me to do it and I sit against the wall with her hot tears soaking my shirt and everything is all right in the world.
---
This week is Golden Week in Japan - a prized week in which three national holidays fall on consecutive days midweek and employers give the other two days off. The country will almost shut down and holiday spots will explode into action.
posted by Doug @ 4/29/2005 01:47:00 pm
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