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.

Let's Rock!

One goal down: see an Indonesian rock band in concert. I’ve got to say, it was great. How I’ve managed to go this long without seeing a proper show here is beyond me, but I broke the spell Saturday night and I’m glad I did. No shitty cover bands in dingy, dark pseudo-whorehouses. Oh no, a proper show complete with booze, professional sound and lighting — fabulous! To say that I got drunk and had a blast would be an understatement.

We had a small snafu getting in the club, but nothing that you can’t finagle a bit and get around. The only two guys (friend and I) were wearing sandals and apparently at such a high-class establishment, people don’t wear sandals. No problem we said. We went back to the car and took two pairs of women’s shoes, forced them on, I walked like a hooker in heels (got big feet you know) and entered without a word. Once inside, I promptly changed back into the sandals — sorted.

Anyway, the show was sponsored by Surya 16 (the best cigarettes in the fucking world I might add) and when you bought your ticket, the promo guys and gals literally thrust pack upon pack at you. I managed to snag six. Too bad I’m not a chick and had a purse or I would have taken the whole lot. Only in Indonesia could this happen. Anywhere else, if a tobacco company sponsors something, there are a thousand dipshit groups that come out of the woodwork crying foul and how unethical and wrong it is — bullshit! None of that nonsense this time around, thankfully. The cigarette companies sponsor everything and that’s just life.

Inside, it felt like any other show I’ve been to that was relatively nice. The venue was an enormous hotel here that quite honestly, I usually try and avoid. I’ve been a few times to eat, use the pool and what not, but it’s such a large, gaudy compound and goddamnit, it’s expensive! To make matters worse, it creates horrid traffic for me that greatly increases my chances of death and I happen to resent that as well. Anyway, I caved in and went and it was great. I saw a lot of friends, drank something akin to battery acid that put me in the stratosphere and just had fun. For a few hours I forgot where I was and I need that now and again to stay grounded.

Now, if only we could get some international bands coming round. Granted, I do like some Indonesian bands (Slank, Jamrud, Ari Lasso, Peter Pan), they just don’t do proper metal and damnit, I miss that. I’ve yet to find the metal underground or find out if it even exists. In Jakarta, yeah, I’m sure it does, but I don’t live there so it does me no good. Speaking of Jakarta, they’ve had a string of good shows come through and every time I see the ads, I curse myself for not being there. However, I wonder if being able to attend a few metal shows a year would be worth living in a sinking shithole? Eh, probably not.

Okay, enough bullshit for today. I’m going to go try and enjoy Valentine’s Day. At least tomorrow’s a holiday.

Another Day

Talk about a shitty day. First, my water stopped working. Well, rather the tank was empty and I was unsure of how to operate the two pumps I have, so for the sake of this piece we'll say it wasn't working. Anyway, no water for a day or two is rather bad. If you're unable to wash dishes and refill the water tank to bathe (my shower doesn't work as I don't have enough water pressure), life is rather bad. Regardless, I managed as I always do, went to work and promptly managed to get it fixed. It cost me an hour of my time and a couple packs of smokes — not bad. Yet another reason I love this place: you can pay for services rendered with things other than money. Sugar, cigarettes, food and other various goods work just as well — it's great!

After that, I went back to work, finished out the day and just as I was about to leave, the skies opened and released two-hours of unholy rain. As expected, it flooded afterwards and at some point killed the power as well. No worries for me as I went to eat after it stopped and then back home to change clothes before going to the gym. The power was off, but that's not exactly anything new. Where I live, an hour or two is about all it's out for, so I wasn't too worried.

Anyway, it was already dark, I couldn't see and I somehow managed to bump my security door shut while my keys were still in the main door — whoops. I figured there was no need to get all worked up, so I went on to the gym and started making some calls once I was there. I think I rang everyone I thought could possibly locate a locksmith to come at night, but no answer except from one person and then she gave me bad news. I couldn't for the life of me think of the word for locksmith (tukang kunci — simple enough) so I was shit out as to where to look myself. I figured almost nine, no power, post flood: I'm fucked.

Later, I finally got a message back that someone was coming from school and I naively assumed with a spare key in tow. I went straight back home — where there was still no power and pitch fucking dark — to find that the door was opened, but not with a fucking key. He cut through the security door to get to the main door! Ah well, at least I could get in, take a shower, eat and sleep in hot, sticky misery and bond with the mosquitoes. For services rendered, it cost me a pack of smokes — brilliant!

Honestly, this whole chain of events expertly underscores everything I like and subsequently hate about living here. Sure, the power might be unreliable, the water dodgy at best, horrid traffic and complete anarchy on the road and a culture of things happening so slowly that it makes grass growing seem fast, but at the end of the day, all I can do is smile. I eat great food for nothing, live for next to nothing, basically barter for services, pay people off to do things quicker and more efficiently and more or less live stress-free save for the problems I create for myself. I guess I can't complain all that much.

Anyway, I don't know what the point of this is, but it does feel rather good to write a bit. I've been a bit lazy and unmotivated as of late. However, I do have a slight bit of hope that it will get better. Wait, no it won't. I've been waiting twenty-eight years on that. I don't think it's going to change now.

Blast from the Past

I'm a bit disenchanted with music currently. Well, I guess I should clarify and say that I'm disenchanted with most bands currently making music. Simply put, it's fucking boring. Last year was quite possibly the worst year in recent memory for good music. It was fucking grim. Really fucking grim. So, to keep my ears happy and my mood up, I've been turning to the old stuff for pleasure and boy has it been rewarding. Last night, in another fit of insomnia, I turned to some late 90's Machine Head and it did the trick.

'The More Things Change'came out in 1997, I'm quite sure I bought it the day it was released (yes, we still bought CDs then) and I probably played it non-stop for a month. Yes, I was a huge Machine Head fan in high school. I remember reading a review for their debut 'Burn My Eyes' in Metal Maniacs (yes, we actually bought magazines then) and I made my mom take me to the record store where I promptly purchased the CD for $9.99. I remember the price because it was on sale and I had $12, which was just enough to secure the purchase. Yes, my mother usually made me buy my own CDs and didn't mind. However, my father used to chide me constantly for "blowing all my money on worthless CDs". Consequentially, I thought he was an idiot.

Anyway, I loved the debut, played the piss out of it and couldn't wait for the next album. It took a few years, but fuck me was I glad when it hit the stores. And what a great album it was and still is. Listening to it last night took me back to another time—even if it was only for about 53 minutes. Start to finish, it's heavy metal bliss. In my eyes, it's Machine Head's magnum opus. It's more polished and refined than 'Burn My Eyes', much heavier and better than the two albums that followed it, it was the last album with Logan Mader on guitar, the first with Dave McClain on drums (who is an absolute stud and best experiened live) and has the perfect balance of thrash, melody, riffs and solos. There's no filler, everything is done with a purpose, the songs are unbelievably strong and it has stood the test of time. If I had my iPod with me, I'd be listening to it right now.

So, I'm not so sure what the point of this post is other than that I feel mildy inspired for some odd reason and feel the need to gush about my childhood. Ostensibly, this is about music, but it's probably much more than that. Some albums hold special, sentimental meanings to them—songs as well I suppose—and this is one of those for me. When I hear this album, I'm transported back in time to being 15, rotting away in high school, dealing with my conflicting teenage angst and all that other shit we experienced as naive teenagers. I wouldn't change it for the world though. It's not as if I need an album to remind of that, but it damn sure doesn't hurt when it's this good. Cheers Machine Head!

Oh Christ: Back to the Grind

Honestly, what the hell was I thinking? If I ever accept another job where I must get out of bed at 5.30, someone please shake me, kick me or whatever it takes to make me see the light. Aside from a few drunken antics, it’s probably the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. Every day that I roll over to silence my alarm, I curse myself for what I’ve done. And it won’t end until at least November—fuck.

There are a few good things about being up early: it’s not hot; traffic isn’t so bad, I feel mildly more productive and I finish in time to enjoy the afternoon. However, is it worth the struggle of rising just before the sun is up? The answer is a resounding “fuck no”. I thoroughly enjoy staying up late and sleeping late. While on holiday, I didn’t get up before 10.00 on any day unless there was a train or bus to catch. Sorry, that’s just how I am. Some things you just can’t change.

I’m finding it a bit tough to readjust this time. It’s not just the sleeping, but a lot of other things as well. It really became clear to me how restricted, tied down and isolated I feel. I guess I never thought much about the insane and archaic immigration laws here until I was gone. Chatting with people working other places really put things in perspective for me. It makes me wonder what the hell I’ve done and why I’ve done it. Not that I anticipate problems and what not, but still. Life can change quickly. You just never know.

If things were to take a drastic shift for the worst, I could potentially be supremely fucked and out in the cold (figuratively of course since it’s anything but that). Anyway, I guess in my periods of boredom, frustration and drunken thinking, I’ve thought of a few thousand scenarios to improve my life—none of which would be so easy all things considered. To make a long story short, I’m stuck for a bit no matter how many ways I try and trick myself otherwise.

Now, is that to say I’m unhappy and looking for a way out? Well, yes and no. On a positive note, my personal life is in the midst of making a massive swing into the positive and if things go well on that front, I’ll probably scrap all this nonsense and everything will be fine. However, if disaster is imminent, it won’t be so easy to sit idly by for much longer. November is a long goddamn way off and I don’t get another long holiday until June. Can I hold out that long? Fuck, I hope so.

I guess meeting some new friends and hearing their experiences got my blood pumping a bit. The excitement has been ramped up, I return and now it’s just a major letdown. Thinking about the future is really all that’s keeping me together at this point. The thoughts of once again living somewhere that hasn’t been brainwashed by religion and how sex, drugs, drinking, rock ‘n’roll, showing some skin and being yourself is inherently a bad thing— you can smoke till your fucking silly, but have a beer and fuck your neighbor, well, your going to hell for that—is supremely enticing.

How happy would I be if I could sleep till 10.00, work in the afternoon or early evening, pop off from work after dark, head out for dinner and some drinks and then come home and do as I please? Man, I’d be as happy as a pedophile at the playground. With any luck, this will happen soon. For now, I guess I’ll settle. Well, until I run out of books to read. I’m fucked after that—and with any luck, literally.