Panthera Sapiens Ellipsis: The Blog

It rained today for what seems to be the first time since I got back from China. In fact, all things considered, events occurred to me rather rapidly this past month. Like the fact that just 8 days after returning home, I had already applied to several outlets for a job and been accepted to one (in the mart). Or that within this past month, I've worked out more than I used to in a whole year. Or even that my circle of social contacts has narrowed dramatically. Anyway, I'm so glad it's raining. My blue tank finally has something in it other than air, I didn't get too dehydrated during work, and the air is lots fresher. It's almost worthy of celebration in verse, except I'm a lousy poet. I've tried writing poetry before; it turned out horrible. There's a quote somewhere: "It may not be right to say that something was writ or that it was wrote, but it is perfectly fine to say that something was wrotten." Well, it could have been applied to my ...

Garfield hates Mondays because something bad always happens then. (It does; for the last 30 or so years, Monday has consistently brought him bad luck, ranging from falling grand pianos to flying cream pies.) My pet hate day just happens to be--today. Wednesday. It's probably got something to do, of course, with the fact that my off day is Tuesday and therefore Wednesday is my first day of work. And then there's my innate laziness, hence my e-mail address. So when Tuesday is over and it's Wednesday morning, I get hit by lethargy. Which, in turn, leads to me delaying going to work until the last possible minute, which causes me to panic and hurry to work when I finally convince myself that work is absolutely necessary if I am ever to be possessed of money. This then makes me stride at an accelerated pace to work, and by the time of arrival I am drenched in sweat from walking and worrying. And then, of course, there's the usual hustle and bustle to prepare for beginning bu...

When is the longest hour of the day? Answer: The hour just before my shift ends: 4.30 to 5.29. It must be that I anticipate getting out of the place and heading home to unwind. Amazing that Wolf is also being told to get a job. He, however, doesn’t seem to be likely to end up in the mart, or if he does, he’s not likely to wind up in my department (the counters). Maybe he’s been reading my blog and decided that anything that could get me to bitch like that wasn’t good. [Edit: Wolf is now doing a charity job somewhere. I think it is an old folks’ home or something like that. /edit] Of course I am getting to know my co-workers, and their little idiosyncrasies; in fact they are remarkably like normal people, which means that they’re all quite different from myself. There’s only one other guy in the place my age--he got employed a day after I did--and he’s, of course, local, and very unlike yours truly. For example, he smokes. Not in the shop, of course, but outside it, during the lunch ...

As Herr Robson asked me the other day when I went to see him sell drinks at my old school (I go there often to walk my kid sister home), What does one plus one equal? Well, in my dog’s case, it equals eight. One adult male plus one adult female equals the preceding two and six puppies. They were born on Sunday--I managed somehow to forget them while bitching about my job--and are now like any other young species in that they are constantly squirming and squealing. A large box has been commissioned and lined with newspaper for them, but I think it too small. The puppies are all whining whenever the mother rolls over and inadvertently squishes one or more, which happens about every fifteen minutes. They’re all very cute, and look more like German Shepherds than their mother, but I cannot as yet differentiate more than two of them; the one with white markings on its neck, and the one with a pink nose. The rest are an amalgamation of black, brown, and dark brown. (Being colour-blind, ...

I have, as of today, been working for 7 days. 7 days, and I hate the job already. It’s horrible; only the locals could stand it. The hours are long, the conditions bad, and the pay horrible. So far I’ve told a total of 15 people about my pay rate, and only one said “Wow”. The other 14 said something along the lines of “What a cheapskate your boss is”. And he is a cheapskate. He doesn’t even let the workers get employee discounts, for crying out loud. I pay the same prices as anyone else. I’m terribly tired now, as in suffering from sleep deprivation. I work for 9 hours a day; I have to wake at 7 just so I can get a decent breakfast before walking to work; and for some strange reason, while everyone else can sleep at 4 and wake at 12 without any side effects, I apparently need about 9 hours of sleep a day. And then there’s the simple fact that I only get sleepy around 10:30 or so. And then on Sunday, I went to work straight from church and music class, so I was something like a zombie...

I have just started work, at the nearest mart to my house. It’s only ten minutes’ walk away—a far cry from the long walks in China—but these ten minutes now seem much longer than they used to. Perhaps it’s because I sweat on the way, or because I dislike my work. At any rate the pay is horrible: only fifteen bucks for nine hours’ work. My job description includes packing goods in plastic bags, arranging trolleys, and generally making myself useful. My job actually includes packing goods in plastic bags, arranging trolleys, generally making myself useful, and getting bored half to death during the slow hours, which means between 2 pm and 4 pm. It’s simply horrible to be sitting there, with nobody around to talk to, with nothing to do but stare mindlessly into space until the occasional customer appears. It’s simply horrible. It’s at times like these that I most miss the old camaraderie of my old schoolmates. The people I now see everyday can’t speak a word of English or Chinese, ha...

I suppose this is technically the first post this year, although I have actually been quite busy typing out and posting my journals from the Big S, not that they have excited much interest. I had to because I promised to, but to whom is a difficult question. Anyway, I haven’t been much occupied these few days. Most of my time is taken up telling everybody in sight that I need a job (the upshot of which is that I have a job interview at the nearest mart tomorrow); asking about driving lessons, which I am not enthusiastic about but my mother is because if I drive she won’t have to chauffeur my siblings about; and typing up my old journals. I haven’t been too busy about getting back in touch with my old group, I’m afraid; but I have seen Wolf and Age Ho (swimming); Herr Robson (selling drinks); and that’s it. The Pig is too preoccupied with his beloved online games to bother with such an inconsequential thing as an old classmate; and Kelvin, Meow and most of the others have begun th...

I just bathed and got into new clothes, by which I mean clean ones. My others are in the ‘To Be Washed’ pile which is several inches deep on the kitchen floor. And no wonder: everyone in the family has at least 2 changes of clothing to be washed and dried by the day after tomorrow. It’s good to be back in nice, warm (comparatively) Shanghai, even if it’s now so cold that it snowed yesterday while we weren’t here for the first time in ten years. I heard this from a report; I wasn’t here, as aforesaid, because of several accidents occurring during the journey from Tianjin and held up the journey considerably. Also the snowfall caused the highways to Shanghai to be closed, so the family spent a whole night crammed into the car. It’s not an experience I particularly relish or want to repeat. In less than 2 hours, this year will be over. It’s strange that the year seemed so long while it lasted, but now seems like a mere flash in the pan: blink, blink, it’s gone. I suppose that now ...