The Preciousness of Life

Today was definitely one of the saddest days I’ve had recently. Last night I got an SMS saying that a student had died. I knew nothing except when and the name. Today, we had class as usual until 11.00 and then everyone from SMP (Junior) piled into students’ cars and took off for the funeral. Being a Muslim, he had to be buried within twenty-four hours so there isn’t much time for anything. It’s quite different from any other funeral, but it doesn’t change the fact that a twelve year-old kid died.

Now, I didn’t know what to except because this is the first time I’ve had a student die and the first funeral of any kind I’d attended in this country. It was hot, crowded and relatively benign in my sense of what a funeral should be like. It all happened very quickly. It took maybe thirty-minutes but definitely not any longer.

It cut like a knife seeing kids upset, crying and not knowing what to say or how to feel. When you’re that young, how can you know? It made me think a lot about how volatile life is and how it can go at any moment. If I dropped dead suddenly, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary and while there would probably be a few people sad for a bit, the world would still turn and life would go on as usual. That can be quite an upsetting feeling at times.

Normally I can shake things like this, but this time it stings. I can’t say I was exceptionally close to him, but close enough. He was funny, chatty and I rather enjoyed him in and outside of class. He was kind, smart and seemed to be well liked by most of the other kids in class. Next semester when he’s not in that class, I know I’ll always remember him and why he isn’t there. That will take a while to go away.

I’ve never lost a close friend and I’ve definitely never lost one while I was still young. I’ve lost some family but even at that, not that many. Experiencing death first hand is something that hasn’t happened that much to me. It’s unpleasant and I can’t imagine it will or can get any easier. If anything, it will get harder as I age. I often joke about my own death, not living long and what not but the reality is that I will die along with everyone else. Whatever happens after that—and I’m afraid it won’t be much—is anyone’s guess.

Anyway, on a lighter note, tomorrow is a holiday for me since I don’t have to—and there is no need for me to—take the TOEFL exam. Sadly, all the teachers that joined the extra English class will be racking their brains for hours tomorrow while I am still in an alcohol-induced dream state. Well, since tomorrow is an unexpected holiday, what better way to celebrate it than to sit out back, jam old heavy metal tunes and get smashed. It’s going to be great!

Now, this has nothing to do with health, right? Or does it? My more or less shitty, quasi-sedentary, chain smoking, heavy drinking, light sleeping lifestyle here is going to get the best of me sooner or later. It hasn’t yet, but I can feel my normally astonishing health slipping away. I’m pale, thin, cough a lot, have headaches nearly every day, cuts and scrapes don’t heal (but that could be due to the nasty water) and sleeping has become impossible at times. My focus just isn’t there, my desire for many things that I used to love is gone, I don’t read that much any more, I don’t think before I act and a lot of other stupid things that are signs I’m losing it. Death? Nah, not yet, but it doesn’t make things any more pleasurable.

So, what do I need to do in order to break the spell? First, I need to get my ass somewhere that I can go outside and walk, breathe and not suffocate, fear getting hit by something bigger and moving faster than me and just get away from it all when I’ve got free time. Here, it’s hard for me to just find somewhere quiet enough to sit down, read a book and not get disturbed. You can forget anything better than that because it doesn’t exist. My gym, while good enough, is riddled with stragglers who want to do nothing but smoke, tell me where I can buy hookers and ask me about the differences between Indonesian pussy and pussy from other countries.

You think I’m joking, but I’m not. This is a normal occurrence I’m afraid. Consequentially, I can describe quite well sexual anatomy in Indonesian and I also know the best whorehouses in town—love it! Now, for a devoutly religious populace where sex, showing skin and displaying public affection are taboo, it’s amazing how many people—only men though—ask things like: “How are Indonesian girls?” “How’s the pussy?”; “Is your hobby fucking?”; “Do you like fucking Indonesian girls?” and on and on. Yes, it can be invasive, but I know there’s no intention beyond curiosity and I find it highly amusing. I go right along with it, have a cigarette and just laugh.

It’s very interesting the impression most Indonesians have of Westerners and foreigners in general. While it is true that I do enjoy a deviant, hedonistic lifestyle, it doesn’t make me—and I’m not—a bad person. I find that the majority of people I meet already have this impression and while some find it interesting and intriguing, some use it as a reason to criticize, blame and judge which is beyond ridiculous. Sure, I curse like crazy, I drink, I smoke, I sometimes don’t have any social tack, I spit, yawn with my mouth open, fart, piss outside and so many other things that can be seen as rude but I’m not a bad person. I’m just a fucking dude and if people don’t like that, they can fuck right off. Full stop.

It doesn’t mean that everyone from my country is like me. We’re all different I say. Hell, what is an American anyway? What does an American look like? It’s such a big country with amazing diversity that it’s impossible to say. However, it’s damn easy to tell if someone is Indonesian. It’s a homogenous society as far as appearance goes. Most people are short, thin, have flat noses, black hair and black eyes. There isn’t much more diversity than that. When you get down to language and culture there are massive differences, but most Indonesians don’t look beyond outward appearance thus making it quite easy to get labelled. It’s a terrible place for that. Much worse than the US I think even if it’s not meant as being racist—and for the record, I don’t think it is.

Strange Obsession

Another interesting incident happened today regarding Indonesians and their fascinating way of communicating. A few weeks ago, I took off to Lampung, a city south of here, for a long weekend with my girlfriend. We took the train and it was an overall enjoyable experience all things considered. Now, every so often I would take a break from sitting and go between the cars to pee, just move around and have a smoke. As expected, I met a few characters during my breaks. One fellow apparently took quite a liking to me and we had a rather engaging chat.

Now, he was much older than me so he is automatically granted a high level of respect. We went through the normal line of questioning that permeates each and every first time (and sometimes not even that) conversation. Afterwards, he asked me for my phone number. Now, he wasn’t hitting on me or anything of the sort; it’s just the done thing here. Now, I quickly thought about telling him I didn’t have one or giving him the wrong number. I know, it’s bad to lie, but I didn’t have any desire to communicate with this man again.

Now, had I said I didn’t have a phone, it would have led to a long, protracted line of questioning that would have led to me lying more and I just didn’t feel up to the task. Had I given him the wrong number, he would have rung me or sent a sms that very moment and I would’ve been shamed and branded a liar. I didn’t want either so I just bit the bullet and gave him my damn number. He called it and that was that. I didn’t save it or his name and I thought that was the end of it.

Well, earlier this morning while I was at work, I started getting calls from a number I didn’t recognize. The first ones were while I was still teaching, but it continued when I came back to the office. I have this rule of generally not answering when this happens, so I just don’t. I assume they’ll either stop calling or send a sms which will identify whether or not I should reply, call them back or answer the next time they call. Well, that did happen and here’s what went down:

“Mr. Brori, apa kabar ini, kawan yang waktu ngobrol di KA., Limex waktu ke lampung, nanti aku telpon.”

After this was sent, not ten seconds later, he called me again. Predictably, I didn’t answer and that was the last time he tried ringing or messaging me. I promptly blocked the number in the hope that he doesn’t have five phones and a different sim card for each one. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he did, but that’s just par for the course.

It’s not that I don’t remember the guy, but what else would I have to say? I even forget where he lives, but it’s not in Palembang. Maybe it’s some sort of novelty thing he can brag about: “Hey, I met this foreign guy on the train. We smoked together, chatted a bit and I got his phone number…yeah!” If you think that’s out of the question, you’d be wrong.

No matter the reasoning, it really underscores the fascinating phone number and mobile phone obsession in this country. I would never dream of asking for someone’s number unless I had a reason and actually planned on using it for something productive. This isn’t productive; it’s just wasting time. There’s no point in it and there’s definitely no reason to call me again and again when it should be clear that I’m either busy, it’s not me or I just don’t want to answer. You’d think someone could figure that out, but it just doesn’t happen. Yes, it’s baffling.

Anyway, enough of the phone talk. I guess I could give a little update on life as of late. First off, it’s been absolutely scorching hot the past week. There has been little to no rain and while that means you don’t have to worry about getting stuck in a downpour or a flood, it also means infernal heat. The air temperature has been around 33-35, but the ground temperature has been more like 40 and higher during the day when you factor in the humidity and the lack of wind, trees, green space and the ugly concrete jungle that is an Indonesian city. It makes things miserable sometimes that’s for sure.

There isn’t much more teaching—two weeks only—this semester and I’m quite happy about that. My June holiday will be here soon and I’m ecstatic! I’m going to be leaving here for three weeks and that alone makes me smile. I don’t really care about the destination just as long as it’s not here. After we come back for a little over a month, we get two more weeks for the big Muslim holiday (Idul Fitri or Lebaran) and I’ll be on my way to Thailand unless a better offer comes along. Actually, I may hit Singapore and Malaysia as well, but the bulk of the time will be spent in Thailand. Once again, as long as it isn’t here, I’ll be happy.

I’ve got it counted up and implanted in my brain: only about eight more weeks of actually teaching until my contract is up. There is a lot of idle time and time spent doing other things in between but the principal point is that when I think “only eight weeks” I lose my feeling of dread and hopelessness and perk up a bit. If that gets me through then that’s good enough for me.

I remember back in December and the first of January when I thought that May would never come, much less October, but it’s slowly approaching. I’ve been obsessed lately with thoughts of “what if” and while I know I can’t change anything and I know this wasn’t necessarily a bad decision, I still can’t help but wonder, well, “what if”. Maybe life and work would have sucked terribly in Kyrgyzstan, but I’ll most likely never know now. I do hope to visit one day, but that will most likely be all. I think I can live with that.

I suppose that’s about all there is to say about life as of late. I got to spend the day and night alone last night for the first time in a while and immersed myself in the new Devin Townsend Project album ‘Deconstruction’ and I can happily say it’s a fucking masterpiece. I haven’t managed to acquire ‘Ghost’ yet, but the reviews I’ve read thus far give it high praise as well. It’s safe to say that Devin Townsend is a musical genius and aside from only a few of his projects, I worship the bulk of his musical work.

That said, I’m going to check my e-mail, read the news again and try to knock off some more of my latest book before heading home for the day. So, until next time, enjoy yourselves.

Tick Tock

I’m going on a bender for a while. Yep, I said it. I’m absolutely, positively fed the fuck up with nearly everything around me. Everything I do, say, think, feel and write is just wrong—fucking wrong. Therefore, I’m going to withdraw and just enjoy my serenity alone for a bit. I need it, I want it and I crave it. I want to hole up somewhere alone for a while with nothing but a book, a little food, a lot of booze and just forget about everything.

I don’t know why I think and feel this way. Sometimes I wonder what it is that’s getting me down. Is it work? Is it people? Is it this place? Is it life in general? I haven’t got any answers and I don’t want any answers. I merely want it to go away. I want my happiness and peacefulness back. I want this anger and resentment to leave immediately, but I don’t know what to do to cure it because I don’t know what’s causing it.

I often wonder if I’d be better off now had I gone with my original plan not to return to Indonesia and gone to Kyrgyzstan instead. Maybe I’d be happier and better off, but then again, maybe not. All I know is that now, the only thing I can think about is getting out of this city. I hesitate to say the country, but I don’t hesitate to say this city. It’s slowly killing me in more than one way. How and why someone would voluntarily choose to live here is beyond my comprehension. Maybe if you’ve never known and experienced anything different I can understand it, but for me, I cannot and I never will.

I yearn to fulfil my original dreams again whereas before, I was coasting. I was looking at life from a different perspective, but thankfully my old views have returned and are forcing me to evaluate my life again and, in turn, that is pushing me towards making some radical changes. I want something much better and much more fulfilling than this and I know now that I’ll never find it here. I’ll definitely never find it in Palembang and probably not in Indonesia either. I’ve accepted that fact and I’ve resigned myself to that reality.

It’s time to make a move whether others like it or not. I’ve got to live for myself and make decisions that are best for me. I can’t allow myself to get mired in a situation here where I’m unable or unwilling to leave. I’ve got to look at life through my eyes and with realistic expectations. When I do that, I see so many other chances and opportunities that are too good to pass up. I just need a bit of time and reflection for it all to become clearer. That time is starting now. Wish me luck.

All Is Well

Well, just to be honest, not much of anything has been going on lately—nothing of much merit anyway. Honestly, it’s the same old shit: fighting with my (ex?)girlfriend; drinking; eating; wasting time; working out; reading and sleeping. Hell, what else is there to do? You know, I can’t think of any time in my life, save for maybe when I was a teenager, in which I literally just wasted time and was not productive at all. Sadly, that’s the fucking norm here and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s one thing I love, but it’s also one thing I hate. Eh, things always seem to be that way so nothing is new I suppose.

On somewhat of a positive note, I have picked up my reading and writing again. I guess I’ve found motivation from my experiences—good, bad, ridiculous and everything in between—and the thoughts and ideas have just been spewing forth lately. Now, I haven’t got around to publishing hardly any of them save for a few video blogs because they are rather personal, private and definitely not appropriate for public consumption. However, I told myself I would make a conscious effort to tone it down for once and make something consumable for the public at large. I’ve started off well enough but we’ll see how it ends.

Anyway, let’s just skip right to the personal shit: my health is quite possibly in the shitter. I never thought I’d actually write that—especially not at my age—but I’m afraid it’s true. I’ve been ill more times during this contract run that I have in probably the past few years. On top of that, I’ve got five more months to go. That’s a lot of opportunities for ills to befall me and I’m sure something will. At the moment, and I’ll be rather candid, I’m worried about cancer. I don’t know why, but I just feel like something bad is going to happen and while this isn’t the worst place to get deathly ill, it certainly isn’t the best either. I’ve lost a lot of weight, I’m not sleeping the best, I drink too much, I’ve yet to follow through on my pledge to completely stop smoking, I’ve got too much free time, too little alone time and far too much stress (self-induced of course) and too many worries to remain healthy. Eh, we’ll wait and see what happens while hoping for the best.

Aside from my physical health, my emotional state has been nothing short of a rollercoaster the past few months. One day, I’m high as a kite and the next day I’m buried in the ground. It’s baffling how that happens, but when you try and date an Indonesian woman, I’ve accepted that this is par for the course. When it’s good, it’s great but when it’s bad, it’s horrible. Unfortunately, we tend to remember and hold to the bad memories much more tightly than the good ones. That’s sad, but I’m afraid it’s human nature.

It’s not that I’m knocking anyone who tries to cross cultures and make it work, but unless you find an Indonesian who has either grown up in a forward-thinking society, has a foreign parent or has studied or worked abroad extensively (all of which I’ve yet to find myself), in my opinion, it’s destined for failure. It’s so much more than just language and culture issues. There are divides so large that I don’t even address them and if I do, I just waste my time, breath and energy. Seriously, it’s a futile effort and I’ve given up. Forward planning isn’t even on the radar. Respect for private time, quiet time and any time that doesn’t involve your partner isn’t even an afterthought. Got a job and responsibilities? Don’t worry because those don’t mean anything either. If you don’t drop it all and respond to that SMS or answer the endless phone calls right then, there will be hell to pay.

I could write a novel about the mobile phone obsession here but it’s so pervasive and part of the culture that it’s sickening. If you go out with your friends, or even your partner, and you expect them to pay attention to you well, you are sadly mistaken friend. Believe me when I say that BlackBerry chat is far more important than you will ever be. Taking a self-portrait in the dark without the flash while locked in a ludicrous pose takes precedence over the other people you’re with and the other people around you. Now, if you happen to send or receive an SMS or telephone call, you’ll be expected to divulge all information about the conversation or you’ll be accused of lying, cheating, keeping secrets or worse. However, if you do the same, you’ll be scolded and ridiculed for being curious and asking too many questions. Make much sense? No, I didn’t think so.

Oh, and if you think your privacy will be respected—forget it. Leave your phone unattended for just long enough to take a shower and all your messages, sent and received, will have been read and forwarded for public discussion later at your expense. Now, logically you will want to protest but if you do, you’ll be told that there’s no way they would’ve known without checking your phone and a whole host of other nonsensical excuses that will leave you confused, mouth agape and head-in-hand. And last but not least, when you want to go out on your own and hangout with your friends, you can forget that as well because it’s assumed that your talking badly and gossiping endlessly and we couldn’t have that now could we? Once again, fail to divulge all information in explicit detail and there will be hell to pay.

Now, I’ve had some good times and good fun (clean and not so clean) in my days but it was never worth putting up with shit like this. I could go on and make a lot of excuses about this and that, but it’s useless. When did the days of having a decent meal, a few beers and a good time end? Has reality somehow passed me by without my knowledge? If this is all there is left, what’s the point? Getting angry for no reason and remaining angry serves what purpose? Inventing problems from nothing and making accusations out of nowhere serves what purpose? Being absurdly jealous, possessive, controlling, demanding, accusative, overprotective, selfish, dominating and clingy serves what purpose? It definitely doesn’t impress me that’s for sure.

I know I sound bitter and what not, but I’m merely being honest. This has been the best experience I’ve ever had in this country and I wouldn’t change it for anything. It has made so many things crystal clear. It would’ve taken me years to realize this many things on my own. It’s the kind of knowledge you can’t get from a book—you’ve just got to live it, see it and feel it for yourself. For that, I am eternally grateful. How the future will shake out is still anyone’s guess, but I’ve got my assumptions. It’s too soon to say too much, but well, I’d say that changes will be in store. Eh, I’ve been wrong before—too many times before.

Drivel

I love reading blogs written by foreigners—of any nationality—that reside in this country. Usually, they are full of pointless bullshit copied and pasted from Wikipedia or Lonely Planet (and word for word at that), ridiculous comparisons and full of preposterous vocabulary mixing that vexes me to no end—whilst also making me wonder how they can criticize the average Indonesians’ English skills.

Anyway, for once, I actually read a blog that I can honestly say I enjoyed. Now, it’s not that I don’t enjoy the occasional blog, but most of them just aren’t that well written. Not that I feel superior or anything as mine probably isn’t that good—but just to be fair, I don’t put that much thought or effort into it—but it’s just nice to come across some true feelings that are properly put together into something logical and entertaining.

Honestly, I could post links to so many shit-filled blogs it would make your head spin. So, why do I read them? Well, quite honestly, I get bored. When I’m at work or at home and have nothing else to do, I read. I figure, hey, I might as well read about where I am, see what other people are experiencing and what not. It sure as shit beats watching TV or wasting my time and money at the mall that’s for sure.

But, I don’t write like that and truthfully, I usually find it incredibly boring. However, for some reason, reading naïve, pretentious blogs written by young, soul-searching, wannabie hippies on a gap year is just thoroughly engaging. Not that they’re all hippies, but you get my point. Why I don’t fancy reading curse-laden tirades like mine is beyond me. I guess it’s true that opposites attract.

I’m not sure what it is about seeing someone document every waking minute of his or her day with precise detail that makes me laugh, but it does. Giving exact totals (currency conversions as well!), temperatures, piss poor translations and the like; it’s all just par for the course. Fuck me, it’s just funny! I always think to myself, “Who reads this shit?” but then I tell myself, “You are, dumbass!” Eh, the whole cycle is comical I guess—to someone at least.

I’ve got nothing interesting or engaging to say about Indonesia or the city I live in unless you enjoy rants and curse words. I don’t feel the need to write about buying fruit, eating, driving around, shopping or going to the beach. Man, all that shit is normal, day-to-day life. Is it really that different anywhere in the world? Eh, no. Everybody eats, sleeps, breathes and exists—we just do it in different places and have different tastes.

But then again, who knows? Maybe I’ll give it a go and see how I feel. It could quite possibly be cathartic in some way. Not that I need any more catharsis than I already have, but anyway. So, I’m going to go have a cup of coffee (price unknown but definitely insignificant), have a smoke (same), chat a bit (free), hopefully score some food (maybe free), sweat (OMG, cause it’s like really, really hot outside!) and fuck around (free as well) before I get to go home by motorcycle (sort of free). Eh, actually, this isn’t working.

“Fuck You!” Technology

Yeah, that just about sums up my thoughts rather well. Now, don’t get me wrong, I embrace and use technology just as much as the next person, but maybe it pisses me off and makes me angrier than the average person—especially when it doesn’t work properly. Honestly though, who knows?

Anyway, a good example would be how I buy a fancy, new modem that’s supposed to work great, be great and just fucking work. I had a few hiccups at first—like everything in this damned country it seems—but yesterday afternoon, I finally had the fucker humming along as advertised. I swear, I’d actually go so far as to say it was actually a bit fast. It’s a stretch I know, but all things considered, how could I think otherwise? However, later in the night, it just stopped working. There was no indication of a problem, no disconnect, no flashing lights; it just stopped working. Dead, dead, fucking dead.

Now, I had just reloaded the credit on the SIM card. I had just upgraded the package. I had just used the damned thing for two hours, but when I went to log on again, nothing. Obviously, this made me angry and I voiced my distaste with a string of impolite, curse-laced tirades, which plainly did nothing, but it felt good nonetheless. The thing is, it just feels as if I’m throwing away my money. Not that it’s all that expensive to begin with, but still. Nobody wants to buy something, plan to use it and then have it not work. Hell, that’s just human nature. It’s akin to paying for shitty food and knowing it will be shitty beforehand—it doesn’t make any sense.

End of that rant and now, moving on. Another thing that really chaps my ass is how people can’t seem to function without this wonderful technology. It’s as if it makes life measurably better and is something you just can’t live without. Without trying to be modest, that’s a load of fucking horseshit. If you think that you can’t eat, drink, cook, talk to your friends, drive anything, walk, study, teach, read, listen to music, exercise or any other action without a fucking phone of some sort either in your hand or on your person, you are out of your goddamn mind. Honestly, I don’t think I need to expand on those thoughts. That should be crystal fucking clear.

I could easily go on an endless tirade about how stupid, self-centred and a whole host of other insults I think people that are mindlessly attached to their phones are, but I’m not going to. I’m going to resist judging, categorizing and cutting them down to size, because who can fault them when everyone around them is doing the same thing? Everybody else is smoking, so why not join in? Everybody else is drinking, so why not join in? Everybody else is being rude, pretentious and showing complete social ineptitude, so why not join in? It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?

Honestly, every time I use a BlackBerry, or anything similar, I usually bang around on it for a minute, get frustrated because it’s mindlessly too complicated, throw it down in disgust and return to my trusty, always functioning, nearly indestructible, equipped with a long-lasting battery Nokia. It sends and receives SMS and phone calls, which is all a phone is good for, and I fucking love it for that reason. I’ve got a camera if I want to take good pictures. I’ve got an iPod for when I want to listen to music. I’ve got a laptop when I want to type something or use the Internet.

As you can imagine, my camera takes superior pictures. My iPod has more storage, is easier to use and has superior sound quality. My laptop is faster, easier to use and much better equipped than any phone I’ve ever seen. Eh, but why keep all these separate items when I could cut them all out for one magic device? Well, I don’t think I ever use them all at the same time and I can’t remember a time when I did or even needed to either. But, once again, this is mindless follower logic, so it’s probably best if I don’t follow.

Anyway, I’m going to wrap this up with a few thoughts, which are more or less digs and stabs. When you take your photo in the mirror with a mobile phone—especially sans shirt—you aren’t cool, you’re a fucking moron. When you take a picture in the dark, with a mobile phone and without a flash, you are a fucking moron. You should’ve brought a camera to the concert, dipshit. When you have more than one phone—especially more than one phone in the vein of a BlackBerry—you aren’t cool, you’re a pretentious schmuck. If you’re so fucking important that one phone isn’t enough, you need and should have an assistant or two. You aren’t cool, you aren’t trendy and you aren’t in ‘the in crowd’. You look stupid, foolish and are fodder for my jokes and putdowns. So, if you agree or don’t agree with this post, please reply and tell me why. However, don’t expect a speedy reply because I don’t have my e-mails forwarded to my phone so I can’t reply while I’m taking a shit or something else that requires much more attention and is far more important—so you’ll just have to fucking wait a bit!

I’m Not Even Going to Pretend to Understand

Why do I seem to have a headache every day? Why can’t I seem to sleep at proper times? Why does it seem to rain every time I want to go somewhere or have something to do? Why do I continue to eat massive quantities of chillies when I know that the next day I will be in horrible gastrointestinal distress — otherwise known as ‘the shits’? None of this makes any good sense. Actually, nothing really seems to make sense any more.

It’s not always a bad thing either. When weird shit just happens out of the blue, it isn’t always bad. When I get a wad of money for a meeting I (apparently) attended or a class I (apparently) taught, that’s great. I love getting money; especially when I’m not expecting any. When I turn up at a new restaurant and find out that the owners’ son is a friend and I get everything comped (including cigarettes!), that’s undoubtedly fucking great.

However, when I turn up in class to monitor exams and then get dropped a bombshell about searching bags for mobile phones, I’m just miffed. Now, I knew this was going to happen; if not today then one day within the next two weeks. It happened last semester, so why not. Anyway, I didn’t do it last time and I damn sure didn’t do it this time either. I asked the other monitor, “Are you going to search each bad?” and got the answer, “Yes, of course. We might find a phone.” I laughed to myself and thought, “There’s no ‘we’ in this conversation. I’m not looking through anyone’s bad except my own.” I then proceeded to sit back, prop up my feet and read.

Now, if the students already know they can’t bring phones and haven’t been bringing them, what’s the point? Also, if you want to search their things, why not do it when they enter school while you’re checking their belts, fingernails, hair, socks, shoes and whether or not their shirts are tucked in properly? I’m a teacher, not a fucking fashion cop. What would make even more sense is to not let them bring their fucking bags in the first place, but then again, that would make some fucking sense. And who would possibly want that?

In addition to the absurdity of the whole ordeal is the simple fact of privacy. I’m not going to search someone’s bag for something as trivial as a fucking mobile phone. For fuck’s sake, surely there are more important things to consider? Actually there are, so let’s make a little list for clarity. I would say that the following things would take precedence: thinking critically; remembering to bring school essentials (books, pens/pencils, rulers, etc.); following instructions; behavior; not cheating; motivation and actually giving a shit. Call me crazy, but I’d say those things are much more important than a fucking mobile phone.

Now, the hilarity of the situation, for me anyway, is that after searching through every bag — and there were twenty-nine of them — said psycho proceeded to whip out her mobile phone and go on an SMS spree. Talk about hypocrisy. I don’t think you can get a better example than that. All the while, I sat silently engrossed in my book. I couldn’t help but wonder what the poor kids were thinking — if they were thinking at all. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a foreign concept here. Actually, I don’t wonder any more; I’m quite sure it’s a fact.

I’m ranting and I know it, but I can’t help it. The fact that I’ve been idle since 11.00 has brought me to this point. Honestly, what else am I supposed to do for 4.5 hours? I can only read, listen to music and surf the Internet so much. And I’ve got two more weeks of this shit — fuck me. You’ll have to excuse me while I go and slowly kill myself. Take care.