Friday, May 30, 2008
single in Shanghai
means if you are home at 10 47pm on a Friday night, chances are you ain't feeling right.
Friday, May 16, 2008
working from home
So China wants the foreigners out after Tibet. They couldn't handle that situation properly, got a lot of flak (rightly deserved) from the rest of the world, and want to do everything they can to avoid anymore during the Olympic Games in Beijing. It's harder to get visas, or should I say much harder to extend visas within China. China says: If you're not bringing something to the table, beat it. Young guys like me with minimal work experience are among the first on the chopping block.
Starting this week I've been working at home in my living room. Hunched over, unmotivated, and very fucking lonely. I see the nice weather on the outside, and feel angry at the situation that has left me a prisoner in my apartment. Whoever said working from home is great never had awesome colleagues at work.
One thing this has done is give my life a much slower pace than the past few weeks, and ultimately a chance to reflect on a very big decision I made. At this moment, I'm writing because I'm alone, scared, and kind of unhappy. I thought maybe I was getting off this emotional aysmptopic (that a word?-it is now) roller coaster that I've been on for as long as I can remember. I want to get off it. I feel like such a damn child, not able to stick with my decisions or maintain a semblance of will.
I'm partied out, again. I feel unclean from the inside, there is no washing away the sins possible. Something spiritual is in order...a trip to a temple or mountain or a conversation with an old person. My body hurts from the alcohol I drank last night, the poison ruining my mind and morals. I feel like I need to get out of Shanghai.
All of this i just thought of in the span of the last ten hours. Monday I was loving Shanghai and my lifestyle Maybe I need some sleep..
Oh yeah...I forgot I have to go back to the living room and finish up a lot of work I chose to ignore during the day. Fuck.
Starting this week I've been working at home in my living room. Hunched over, unmotivated, and very fucking lonely. I see the nice weather on the outside, and feel angry at the situation that has left me a prisoner in my apartment. Whoever said working from home is great never had awesome colleagues at work.
One thing this has done is give my life a much slower pace than the past few weeks, and ultimately a chance to reflect on a very big decision I made. At this moment, I'm writing because I'm alone, scared, and kind of unhappy. I thought maybe I was getting off this emotional aysmptopic (that a word?-it is now) roller coaster that I've been on for as long as I can remember. I want to get off it. I feel like such a damn child, not able to stick with my decisions or maintain a semblance of will.
I'm partied out, again. I feel unclean from the inside, there is no washing away the sins possible. Something spiritual is in order...a trip to a temple or mountain or a conversation with an old person. My body hurts from the alcohol I drank last night, the poison ruining my mind and morals. I feel like I need to get out of Shanghai.
All of this i just thought of in the span of the last ten hours. Monday I was loving Shanghai and my lifestyle Maybe I need some sleep..
Oh yeah...I forgot I have to go back to the living room and finish up a lot of work I chose to ignore during the day. Fuck.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
ooo the flossy flossy
Hang up my dirty coat, smelling of smoke.
And those lyrics are still in my head: "G, L, A, m, O, R, o, U, s. First claa-ass, up in the sky...champaa-agne, livin' my life..." the song is Glamorous by Fergie. It was the anthem, along with a couple others, of Shanghai 2007.
I love this song, my Korean friend and mentor tells me, my first semester of Jiao Da. We are sitting across from each other on the black marble tables. There are friends and lovers here, also next door at the famously strangely decorated "Korean restaurant" next door. That place is full of tears, goodbye's, hugs, and broken dreams set against a backdrop of black and white domino tiles and action figures. But back to the song and my friend.
This is my favorite song, he says, as I hear the words softly through his headphones on the table. The tune is beautiful, the words barely breathed. But listen to the words, not the delivery. Her lyrics begin, "My daddy told me..." fades away into the true meaning of the song: "If you ain't got no money take yo broke ass home!" And there you have it.
I cannot think of a song more appropriate to drive home the point in the way it is meant to be driven. We dream of neon lights, high rises, a towering view with all glass window, dim light from the outside illuminating a gray floor as we sip wine from an expensive glass held elegantly by forefinger and thumb watch as the cars go by 60 stories below and the beautiful people are ants on the streets going to visit some romantic nook or cranny in this, our city...it is our city; we built ourselves this life of leisure toasting with the successful, snapping pictures to capture our happiness which we cannot clearly remember after the rooster's crow.
I never wrote about starting work, which has been probably the most significant change in my life of the past four months. I work for a small company doing small but meaningful tasks. My first impression was: these people treat Shanghai differently. They are living the Shanghai life that I used to live when I first got here, even though most of them have been here longer than I have. I also felt,
"Damn, I'm doing robot work."
Tired every night, with eye strain and heat enveloping my brain from staring at a computer screen all day, I thought about quitting after my first month. I thought that even if I was making twice the salary I was, I wouldn't be happy doing this company shit.
I looked at Shanghai and the world through my all too familiar glasses: one lens was that of money, seeking the fast lane good life, easy women dancing on tables who could be yours. The other lens was the poet the questioner the money is not happiness life is happiness. I rationalized that businessmen were inherently cheaters, and had a different set of values. Dreamers, like me, while we sinned from time to time, were inherently good and had a moral fiber that made us unbecoming to the world of numbers and dollar signs.
I love my job now, my coworkers, and being able to go to work. I've had to work from home for the last four days and I absolutely hate it (more on this in another post). I think that says something. My morals haven't changed, but this small company where even my new voice is heard and where even my small decisions make an impact, is fun and what Shanghai is about.
I am not living the life. There's no Cristal on the shelf and I feel guilty if I pay over 100 kuai for a meal. Sometimes I dream of fresh grass, the beach, and clear skies. I dream of getting out of the city and working outdoors. I dream of finding a place to write and be away from the shiny exteriors.
But I think I've come to learn that all that glitters is not without value, that just because you work in a business doesn't make you a businessman and just because you aren't suited to the business world doesn't mean you can't help a business grow. Whew. We'll see whether this job gets me rich (unlikely) or stressed out (likely). But for now, I'm happy with my life.
It still remains to be seen whether I will need to escape this city for something more natural, more soulful...or whether I will find the soul within these dark, golden walls caressed by smoke and mascara.
I never thought I'd be here four years ago.
And those lyrics are still in my head: "G, L, A, m, O, R, o, U, s. First claa-ass, up in the sky...champaa-agne, livin' my life..." the song is Glamorous by Fergie. It was the anthem, along with a couple others, of Shanghai 2007.
I love this song, my Korean friend and mentor tells me, my first semester of Jiao Da. We are sitting across from each other on the black marble tables. There are friends and lovers here, also next door at the famously strangely decorated "Korean restaurant" next door. That place is full of tears, goodbye's, hugs, and broken dreams set against a backdrop of black and white domino tiles and action figures. But back to the song and my friend.
This is my favorite song, he says, as I hear the words softly through his headphones on the table. The tune is beautiful, the words barely breathed. But listen to the words, not the delivery. Her lyrics begin, "My daddy told me..." fades away into the true meaning of the song: "If you ain't got no money take yo broke ass home!" And there you have it.
I cannot think of a song more appropriate to drive home the point in the way it is meant to be driven. We dream of neon lights, high rises, a towering view with all glass window, dim light from the outside illuminating a gray floor as we sip wine from an expensive glass held elegantly by forefinger and thumb watch as the cars go by 60 stories below and the beautiful people are ants on the streets going to visit some romantic nook or cranny in this, our city...it is our city; we built ourselves this life of leisure toasting with the successful, snapping pictures to capture our happiness which we cannot clearly remember after the rooster's crow.
I never wrote about starting work, which has been probably the most significant change in my life of the past four months. I work for a small company doing small but meaningful tasks. My first impression was: these people treat Shanghai differently. They are living the Shanghai life that I used to live when I first got here, even though most of them have been here longer than I have. I also felt,
"Damn, I'm doing robot work."
Tired every night, with eye strain and heat enveloping my brain from staring at a computer screen all day, I thought about quitting after my first month. I thought that even if I was making twice the salary I was, I wouldn't be happy doing this company shit.
I looked at Shanghai and the world through my all too familiar glasses: one lens was that of money, seeking the fast lane good life, easy women dancing on tables who could be yours. The other lens was the poet the questioner the money is not happiness life is happiness. I rationalized that businessmen were inherently cheaters, and had a different set of values. Dreamers, like me, while we sinned from time to time, were inherently good and had a moral fiber that made us unbecoming to the world of numbers and dollar signs.
I love my job now, my coworkers, and being able to go to work. I've had to work from home for the last four days and I absolutely hate it (more on this in another post). I think that says something. My morals haven't changed, but this small company where even my new voice is heard and where even my small decisions make an impact, is fun and what Shanghai is about.
I am not living the life. There's no Cristal on the shelf and I feel guilty if I pay over 100 kuai for a meal. Sometimes I dream of fresh grass, the beach, and clear skies. I dream of getting out of the city and working outdoors. I dream of finding a place to write and be away from the shiny exteriors.
But I think I've come to learn that all that glitters is not without value, that just because you work in a business doesn't make you a businessman and just because you aren't suited to the business world doesn't mean you can't help a business grow. Whew. We'll see whether this job gets me rich (unlikely) or stressed out (likely). But for now, I'm happy with my life.
It still remains to be seen whether I will need to escape this city for something more natural, more soulful...or whether I will find the soul within these dark, golden walls caressed by smoke and mascara.
I never thought I'd be here four years ago.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)