Hey there, I don't know what I gotta say but I need to stay committed to my little blogueing effort and so I must write a little something something here. Let's see, things have been ok. Life has been a series of minor ups and downs but nothing outrageously exciting. I guess that is how normal life becomes wherever you live.
Probably the most amazing thing that I have witnessed since I have been here has been the wild effects of the Chinese medicine. I was battling with some serious ear ache problems and it was really messing with my professional judgement. I mean when your ears really hurt it doesn't really screw with any part of your body except the two small holes that go straight through to your brain. It was like the sickness made everything I heard or witnessed turn into some sort of irritating babble. Imagine having to go to class with a bunch of crazy loud ass Chinese lookin' kids with the feeling that your brain is going to explode. It was like that except that it was real and it was real sucky. I tried to be an ok guy but I was one cranky son of a bitch.
But hey I got off the subject of the medicine. I had another fantastic "what the hell am I doing" experience when I went to a "Medical clinic" (or so I thought) to talk to a doctor and/or get doped up on some feel good pills. I first gave it a shot and walked in to a sterile bright white room covered in shelves piled with different bottles of mysterious pills. I went up to the lady who was already looking at me like "please don't talk to me and ruin my whole day. I am just about to get off." I asked her as physically as I could, hands all in the air and whatnot, "can you help me? My ears are so hurt and I want to see a doctor. I don't know what to do." Normally I have to yell at Taiwanese people because somehow I think that screaming a foreign language into someones ear can make them understand this unknown language better. However, you add the fact that at this point my ears are so backed up with sickness that I can barely hear anything, and I am practically screaming at this poor woman.
She brings out someone else who makes me feel a little better because at least she has snappy glasses and a white lab coat. I go through the same awkward and loud description of my misery and she simply replies, "you no want heeya. We heeya makeah Chinee medcin. You wan go to oddah doctah." She continues with this to the best of her abilities. I mean I can't complain because all I could do was prepare about fifty cheh chehs (thank yous) upon my departure. She then wrote a bunch of hieroglyphics onto a piece of paper indicating some place. Who knows.
I continued to wonder around almost deaf at this point with no luck. At one point I thought I might have arrived into something right but it turned out to be some sort of third rate dentist on the forth four of a dilapidated building. I can honestly say that I just peeked in and saw a guy writhing in a chair with some sort of dentist over his face. It was scary and lets just say that I have added a third brushing to my daily schedule just to avoid any encounter like that in the future. I think that guy might have been involved in the inspiration for the hostel movie.
In the end I gave up for the night and spent the night pissed off on my couch feeling crappy and deaf.
The next day I tried to call off work because I felt even worse and what do you think my boss says? "How about you come to your first class (which is the worst and the loudest) and then I will take you to the doctor." Ok, sort of unfair trade but I guess I really did need some sort of interpreter.
Basically my boss, who is hot and young and I want her to get a divorce and run away with me, took me to another craptown clinic with coughing and wastebasket vomiting gallor. In Asia things like that are no problem to preform in public. You often hear loud burps and farts all over while on the busses here. Wonderful. I waited about 30 minutes before I was finally taken into a room that really did look like a torture chamber just with more lighting. My boss had left at this point because I kept saying how stupid I felt and how I really needed to grow up and figure shit out for myself. The doctor was hopefully a qualified doctor but in no way an English prof. He did a little "inspection" of my ear holes and then made his diagnosis; "Well, I see some information in there."
"Excuse me?" I replied.
"Yeah, I can rearry see some information there," he insisted.
"Well what kind of information?" I was really wondering what sort of information this man had found. Had someone placed some microfilm in my ear in the night only to be discovered by this mask wearing doctor of misinterpretation?
"Yeah, redness and information," he says.
"Oooohhhhhhh," I say, keeping off the upcoming laughter, "you see some inflamation do you?"
"Yeah, inframation," he said so wonderfully coherently.
Half of the appointment was us going through difficult and funny conversations like that one. In the end he sent me the wrong way towards a pharmacy.
I found the place and was given a wild "cocktail" of pills that the Asians are known to prescribe. All sorts of stuff and even some eye drops that I was instructed to drop in my ear.
In the end, the funniest part was that after only 30 minutes of dropping my crazy concoction of pills I needed to take a quick pee. I peed and almost fell over in shock at the sight of what had just been polluted out of my body. My pee was school bus yellow. No that doesn't even do it justice. Have you ever had that orange Gatorade? Well I was pissing that out and it scared the hell out of me. I couldn't believe it. I thought if I were to cut myself my blood would be a solid bright green goo as if I truly was turning into some sort of monster. It was crazy and I made sure that over the next four days, while taking this bizarre medicine, everyone I knew here had either seen the magical pee or at least heard about it. I was truly fantastic and I hope that it will never part from my memory.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Road trippin' with my favorite allies.
It is pretty hard to try to remember and recount happy moments when you feel as shitty as I do right now but I am going to try. (I have gone back to feeling like a six year old again with not one but two ear infections. It doesn't feel good at all but I supposed I would be really dizzy if was only sick in one ear.) I think it is going to be a really long time before I can actually be sick and have any idea as to what I am supposed to do with myself. Most of my sick moments have been eased by my mother patting me on the head while serving me any type of feel good material I have would have need for. Now I am in China land and it makes going to the doctor about as appealing as drowning while getting kicked in the nuts by a steal toed boot. I went into the doctor's office today and was roughly told that it was a Chinese medicine place. Maybe they could give me some sort of tea and a cockroach to crawl around my brain eating up the illness. Who knows?
DAY ONE
Now I don't want to end up depressing you fellow readers so I will give you the details of my first weekend spent outside of Taipei. I and several of my comrades assembled a hodge podge of scooters and took ourselves a road trip into the mountains. We had wanted to go somewhere for the "vacation," and when all the buses to the beach were sold out we picked the music festival in the waterfall littered forest option. We were not disappointed in the end.
After an invigorating and beautiful 2 hour cruise up into the heart of the island we arrived at a makeshift campsite where we would spend the next three days doing all the fun, wild, and horrible things one does at a music festival. (Rest assured though, it was a drug free weekend. Not for everyone else, but yes for us.) We set up our tents under the designated "camp site" and deplorably awaited the time when we would decide to retire to our homes resting under a concrete foundation. We all decided that this weekend would just have to be about something else besides sleep.
Some of the features included in this "festival" as they would like to call it were a 18, no-name, but often talented, band lineup, 24 hour bar, three swimming pools, two hot springs, lots of girls, and all for the low low price of 20 dollars for the whole weekend. (camping included.) Not too bad if you think about it. Hell even you don't!
The first night was like any first night of a three day binge: way too much alcohol, dancing and making an ass out of one's self in front of all sorts (good and bad) of girls. In general we call it overexertion. It would sort of be like running a marathon the day before you do the iron man except there is no honor in what we did. We told jokes and stories, pushed people we didn't know into pools, and watched others on hallucinogens run around climbing trees and trying to tell you which star was their favorite. Oh by the way, you know which group was the easy majority at this hippy festival in the mountains?........that's right, the wi go ren as they call us, or as we are more commonly know: dirtbag white folk.
DAY TWO
Going to bed at 330 am in a tent laying on a concrete foundation turned out to be just a terrible idea on our part. This was because only 2.5 hours later while taking a quick one tenth awake pee break I ran into a group of crazed out South African Asian bitches screaming at me while laughing at the same time. These girls were claiming that I had both thrown up on them and into the pool in some sort of drunken rage. Now I know for a fact that this was not me because I was sleeping at the time and I also was still clear headed enough to know what I had or hadn't done. That and the fact that these girls were acting like they had eaten horse tranquilizer hamburgers before talking to me so I wasn't sure their judgement could be trusted.
Luckily the daemon women left me and what do you know? I couldn't return to my slumber. I don't know if it was the general discomfort of the rock hard tent or the fact that I was frighteningly shivering under my Kleenex blanket, of which was my only sleeping material at the time and now still, but I just couldn't go back to dream land. So I ran barefoot on the gravel filled ground as pathetically as I could to the hot springs where I spent the next 1.5 hours watching the crap end of the party people crashing over each other and the dudes in the collared shirts still trying to muster up the courage to simply say to their girls, "so you wanna check out my tent?"
My saving grace was in those hot springs where I met the only other person awake for the morning. It was a friendly 30 something woman and her 7 year old daughter. I split my time talking to her about her life in New Zealand and throwing her daughter into the air much to the wee one's delight. The best moment was when a Taiwanese woman who had joined the fun said, "why don't you get your daddy to play with us?" in reference to yours truly. Ever so politely I shouted, "oh oh ah ah ah no she isn't mine!" (oops) The best part was the Asian woman not wondering how two white people would make a half black child like the one in question. I guess she wasn't paying attention.
After my "bath" I went and tried to rouse my compatriots once again (only 7:30 now) to the same "what the hell are you doing awake?" and a nice middle finger for a finish. I thought instead, since the sun had risen, I would take a nice scooter ride to get some well deserved coffee. Only about 800 metres into my ride I saw a girl walking on the side of the road, and what do you think I did? I pulled right over and said nothing more than, "hop on and lets have some coffee baby." I even added baby just so I could tell it in the story later. Cheese dick to the rescue!!!
I thought maybe I recognized her from the party and when she screamed from behind my hog, "you're Andrew right?" I knew I probably had met her. Me and my meeting too many people at parties. So we took a nice ride down the mountain, stood by the water falls, talked about our families and music and got some coffee and lunch. I must say, it all made for a nice morning and I was delighted to have risen at such an early hour.
The rest of the day I tried to cling to some sort of deep rooted energy no one thought I had. I continued to jest and have fun with everyone as I always do. Sure, I was a little loopy but no more than anyone else who had slept little or none that night. After a while we thought we would take a break from the party world and scoot on down into town and visit our French friend Guillame.
Andrew and Graeme (the South Africans), Dunkle, David and Jennifer (the cool work couple), Francheska (the girl who made fun of me all weekend for some reason), Leslie (the new girl from the campground), and myself strapped on our helmets and peaced up out for the day.
We ate and we walked around, took pictures (which I will eventually post), and I quickly became the foot dragging complainer I can sometimes be after nights like the previous one. The highlight of the day was when Guillame and his friend took us down to the locals only hot springs. Man let me tell you, walking in there I could not have felt more out of place. Half naked Asians taking hot showers and laying in boiling pools of water, and they all couldn't stop looking at us, the wi go rens. But this feeling only stayed for a brief moment until I took a shower while using old laundry detergent bottles to pour scalding water all over myself. I think the most fun we had was when all of us poured twelve bottles of lava water onto one person. You could have cooked a lobster in this stuff and off course we are throwing it around and laughing like a bunch of idiots. I probably laughed the most when I helped an old man by pouring water on him while another Asian guy poured water on me. Maybe we are descended from monkeys. It was great and once again we realized that getting all the attention here really is pretty great.
After that we ate at a place where they serve you whole cooked chickens and then you wear gardening gloves to aid in ripping the shit out of the recently diseased bird. Graeme, my new partner in crime, saw how quickly we were fading after dinner and made an affirmative decision. There was no way we could try to soberly sleep on the concrete tents again, so we would simply have to go out wild again techno dancing in the rain with any girl and all girls. We also got squirt guns that turned out to be rather effective ice breakers.
So that was the weekend and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact I enjoyed reliving it so much that I actually feel a lot better. I mean my ears still feel like someone took a shit in them while jabbing a hot poker in my brain, but no worries. That was the first really good weekend I have had since Thailand and it reminds me that maybe a person can adapt to any place.
DAY ONE
Now I don't want to end up depressing you fellow readers so I will give you the details of my first weekend spent outside of Taipei. I and several of my comrades assembled a hodge podge of scooters and took ourselves a road trip into the mountains. We had wanted to go somewhere for the "vacation," and when all the buses to the beach were sold out we picked the music festival in the waterfall littered forest option. We were not disappointed in the end.
After an invigorating and beautiful 2 hour cruise up into the heart of the island we arrived at a makeshift campsite where we would spend the next three days doing all the fun, wild, and horrible things one does at a music festival. (Rest assured though, it was a drug free weekend. Not for everyone else, but yes for us.) We set up our tents under the designated "camp site" and deplorably awaited the time when we would decide to retire to our homes resting under a concrete foundation. We all decided that this weekend would just have to be about something else besides sleep.
Some of the features included in this "festival" as they would like to call it were a 18, no-name, but often talented, band lineup, 24 hour bar, three swimming pools, two hot springs, lots of girls, and all for the low low price of 20 dollars for the whole weekend. (camping included.) Not too bad if you think about it. Hell even you don't!
The first night was like any first night of a three day binge: way too much alcohol, dancing and making an ass out of one's self in front of all sorts (good and bad) of girls. In general we call it overexertion. It would sort of be like running a marathon the day before you do the iron man except there is no honor in what we did. We told jokes and stories, pushed people we didn't know into pools, and watched others on hallucinogens run around climbing trees and trying to tell you which star was their favorite. Oh by the way, you know which group was the easy majority at this hippy festival in the mountains?........that's right, the wi go ren as they call us, or as we are more commonly know: dirtbag white folk.
DAY TWO
Going to bed at 330 am in a tent laying on a concrete foundation turned out to be just a terrible idea on our part. This was because only 2.5 hours later while taking a quick one tenth awake pee break I ran into a group of crazed out South African Asian bitches screaming at me while laughing at the same time. These girls were claiming that I had both thrown up on them and into the pool in some sort of drunken rage. Now I know for a fact that this was not me because I was sleeping at the time and I also was still clear headed enough to know what I had or hadn't done. That and the fact that these girls were acting like they had eaten horse tranquilizer hamburgers before talking to me so I wasn't sure their judgement could be trusted.
Luckily the daemon women left me and what do you know? I couldn't return to my slumber. I don't know if it was the general discomfort of the rock hard tent or the fact that I was frighteningly shivering under my Kleenex blanket, of which was my only sleeping material at the time and now still, but I just couldn't go back to dream land. So I ran barefoot on the gravel filled ground as pathetically as I could to the hot springs where I spent the next 1.5 hours watching the crap end of the party people crashing over each other and the dudes in the collared shirts still trying to muster up the courage to simply say to their girls, "so you wanna check out my tent?"
My saving grace was in those hot springs where I met the only other person awake for the morning. It was a friendly 30 something woman and her 7 year old daughter. I split my time talking to her about her life in New Zealand and throwing her daughter into the air much to the wee one's delight. The best moment was when a Taiwanese woman who had joined the fun said, "why don't you get your daddy to play with us?" in reference to yours truly. Ever so politely I shouted, "oh oh ah ah ah no she isn't mine!" (oops) The best part was the Asian woman not wondering how two white people would make a half black child like the one in question. I guess she wasn't paying attention.
After my "bath" I went and tried to rouse my compatriots once again (only 7:30 now) to the same "what the hell are you doing awake?" and a nice middle finger for a finish. I thought instead, since the sun had risen, I would take a nice scooter ride to get some well deserved coffee. Only about 800 metres into my ride I saw a girl walking on the side of the road, and what do you think I did? I pulled right over and said nothing more than, "hop on and lets have some coffee baby." I even added baby just so I could tell it in the story later. Cheese dick to the rescue!!!
I thought maybe I recognized her from the party and when she screamed from behind my hog, "you're Andrew right?" I knew I probably had met her. Me and my meeting too many people at parties. So we took a nice ride down the mountain, stood by the water falls, talked about our families and music and got some coffee and lunch. I must say, it all made for a nice morning and I was delighted to have risen at such an early hour.
The rest of the day I tried to cling to some sort of deep rooted energy no one thought I had. I continued to jest and have fun with everyone as I always do. Sure, I was a little loopy but no more than anyone else who had slept little or none that night. After a while we thought we would take a break from the party world and scoot on down into town and visit our French friend Guillame.
Andrew and Graeme (the South Africans), Dunkle, David and Jennifer (the cool work couple), Francheska (the girl who made fun of me all weekend for some reason), Leslie (the new girl from the campground), and myself strapped on our helmets and peaced up out for the day.
We ate and we walked around, took pictures (which I will eventually post), and I quickly became the foot dragging complainer I can sometimes be after nights like the previous one. The highlight of the day was when Guillame and his friend took us down to the locals only hot springs. Man let me tell you, walking in there I could not have felt more out of place. Half naked Asians taking hot showers and laying in boiling pools of water, and they all couldn't stop looking at us, the wi go rens. But this feeling only stayed for a brief moment until I took a shower while using old laundry detergent bottles to pour scalding water all over myself. I think the most fun we had was when all of us poured twelve bottles of lava water onto one person. You could have cooked a lobster in this stuff and off course we are throwing it around and laughing like a bunch of idiots. I probably laughed the most when I helped an old man by pouring water on him while another Asian guy poured water on me. Maybe we are descended from monkeys. It was great and once again we realized that getting all the attention here really is pretty great.
After that we ate at a place where they serve you whole cooked chickens and then you wear gardening gloves to aid in ripping the shit out of the recently diseased bird. Graeme, my new partner in crime, saw how quickly we were fading after dinner and made an affirmative decision. There was no way we could try to soberly sleep on the concrete tents again, so we would simply have to go out wild again techno dancing in the rain with any girl and all girls. We also got squirt guns that turned out to be rather effective ice breakers.
So that was the weekend and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact I enjoyed reliving it so much that I actually feel a lot better. I mean my ears still feel like someone took a shit in them while jabbing a hot poker in my brain, but no worries. That was the first really good weekend I have had since Thailand and it reminds me that maybe a person can adapt to any place.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Is Hungry a country or a state of mind?
To answer that question I would say that for me Hungry is a state of misery that I find my myself meandering through almost every day. I am now in my second year living below the poverty level and I think it is starting to mess with me. Or at least it is starting to mess with my stomach.
While in France I was forced to survive off of not much money at all. When you consider that Paris is one of the most expensive cities in the world, I was most certainly on the poverty line. I once saw one of those exclusive "le Dateline" shows in France that did an expose on people who were poor in Paris. I kept thinking, how do these people live like this? How can they survive? I then soon found out that most of the "victims" made almost twice as much money as I did. Now that seems odd.
There are many ways to dealing with one's poverty and almost all of them rely on you feeling bad in some way. You may feel unhealthy, you may feel guilty, or you may feel rotten for all sorts of reasons.
Food is something we all need. If you try to say otherwise you are a complete idiot because like water and air, it is just something you gotta get once and while. When you are trying to salvage your money it seems like anything but your food should be what you skip out on. Every day I find myself between the option of the shit behind an alley food or some legitimate good stuff. I always go with the first option because it always seems like a good idea at the time to save a little green. So I have found myself day after day eating this retched food that really does make me feel sick at times. I find that if I keep it cheap maybe I will be able to use that leftover money for something else that I need. I have really gone with this philosophy for around a year now.
The option that I don't recommend is simply to stop eating all together. The nice part about this is that if you just don't eat, you don't have to pay for food at all. At first I wanted to try my own version of "fasting" simply because I new that others had done it and survived and had actually felt changed in some way from it. I can honestly say that giving up food for so long a time did make me appreciate my meal once it was finally steaming in front of me. The smells were more potent and I could feel the tasty morsels filling the empty voids in my body. It was really rejuvenating.
But I mean that was a long time ago when I would waltz through the lively streets of Paris wondering how much longer I could go denying myself the carnal pleasures of food. (In the end I almost always chose doner kebab too, so it really wasn't that much of a step up.) Those days were good because as I stumbled from cafe to cafe I could imagine myself as one of the hunger crazed artists who's barren stomach released sparks into his brain which thus aided his creative genius. But that was how I felt. I acutally looked like some stinky bum wondering around aimlessly with nothing else to do. I guess I sort of was that description.
The difference is that now I am here in Taiwan and I am much much poorer. I had come to this wonderful island believing that I would make my big payday and I would be able to begin my ascent/descent into real life adulthood. What has actually happened is that my whiskers grow quicker, my clothing has become less diverse, and my hunger more profound. The other day I set a new record; a 30 hour hunger strike. It is miserable but I have begun to acquire quite the endurance for hunger because I hardly eat. I don't know why I choose to save money on something I love so much and need so badly but every time it happens the same way.
I said that when you give food a break it seems all the more delicious later, but here it isn't always true. You can either eat some really great food and some food that makes you want to throw up just writing about it. Of course I wouldn't be able to throw much up because I haven't eaten in about 18 hours.
I try to keep myself on a regular cycle of eating and I take advantage of free food whenever it comes by but that just simply doesn't do in this hunger lifestyle I have begun to acclimate to. I will often hope that I get to my school early enough to steal some of the cafeteria food and I almost always miss the deadline. This means that for the rest of school I have to maintain a positive and patient attitude while my stomach begins to absorb my muscles because the fat is already gone. That is the edible fat. My boss has on several occasions informed me that I need to do some work on my "tummy." The Asians here are such a kind and honest people.
There are two types of hungry people in the world. There are those types of people who do not have food and they do not know when their next meal may arrive. They go about their day to day activities just the same as anyone else but they do it without any food based energy inside them. The same people who would give a bit a food to someone else before consuming it themselves. These are the people that you and I should admire because while they have no choice in what they eat, they still survive.
There are also people like me. Now I will tell you, I really am poor and even when I do start to make any real money that money will have to go back to other people who have had to hear me say over and over "just help me a little bit and I will get it back to you." I have to borrow money in order to still look poor which gives no satisfaction to those who loan the money. People like me are hungry because they don't know what the hell they are doing and they make impulsive decisions that put them in the position of having to deny themselves sustenance in the first place. These are the people that you probably won't be sympathetic to but you can at least laugh at their slightly less miserable predicament.
So is Hungry a country or a state of mind? Well I travelled to hungry by myself and I was so poor then that I had to sleep in a bus station with a bunch of hobos who smelled like rotten pumpkins and I can tell you for sure that I had some hungry times then as well.
While in France I was forced to survive off of not much money at all. When you consider that Paris is one of the most expensive cities in the world, I was most certainly on the poverty line. I once saw one of those exclusive "le Dateline" shows in France that did an expose on people who were poor in Paris. I kept thinking, how do these people live like this? How can they survive? I then soon found out that most of the "victims" made almost twice as much money as I did. Now that seems odd.
There are many ways to dealing with one's poverty and almost all of them rely on you feeling bad in some way. You may feel unhealthy, you may feel guilty, or you may feel rotten for all sorts of reasons.
Food is something we all need. If you try to say otherwise you are a complete idiot because like water and air, it is just something you gotta get once and while. When you are trying to salvage your money it seems like anything but your food should be what you skip out on. Every day I find myself between the option of the shit behind an alley food or some legitimate good stuff. I always go with the first option because it always seems like a good idea at the time to save a little green. So I have found myself day after day eating this retched food that really does make me feel sick at times. I find that if I keep it cheap maybe I will be able to use that leftover money for something else that I need. I have really gone with this philosophy for around a year now.
The option that I don't recommend is simply to stop eating all together. The nice part about this is that if you just don't eat, you don't have to pay for food at all. At first I wanted to try my own version of "fasting" simply because I new that others had done it and survived and had actually felt changed in some way from it. I can honestly say that giving up food for so long a time did make me appreciate my meal once it was finally steaming in front of me. The smells were more potent and I could feel the tasty morsels filling the empty voids in my body. It was really rejuvenating.
But I mean that was a long time ago when I would waltz through the lively streets of Paris wondering how much longer I could go denying myself the carnal pleasures of food. (In the end I almost always chose doner kebab too, so it really wasn't that much of a step up.) Those days were good because as I stumbled from cafe to cafe I could imagine myself as one of the hunger crazed artists who's barren stomach released sparks into his brain which thus aided his creative genius. But that was how I felt. I acutally looked like some stinky bum wondering around aimlessly with nothing else to do. I guess I sort of was that description.
The difference is that now I am here in Taiwan and I am much much poorer. I had come to this wonderful island believing that I would make my big payday and I would be able to begin my ascent/descent into real life adulthood. What has actually happened is that my whiskers grow quicker, my clothing has become less diverse, and my hunger more profound. The other day I set a new record; a 30 hour hunger strike. It is miserable but I have begun to acquire quite the endurance for hunger because I hardly eat. I don't know why I choose to save money on something I love so much and need so badly but every time it happens the same way.
I said that when you give food a break it seems all the more delicious later, but here it isn't always true. You can either eat some really great food and some food that makes you want to throw up just writing about it. Of course I wouldn't be able to throw much up because I haven't eaten in about 18 hours.
I try to keep myself on a regular cycle of eating and I take advantage of free food whenever it comes by but that just simply doesn't do in this hunger lifestyle I have begun to acclimate to. I will often hope that I get to my school early enough to steal some of the cafeteria food and I almost always miss the deadline. This means that for the rest of school I have to maintain a positive and patient attitude while my stomach begins to absorb my muscles because the fat is already gone. That is the edible fat. My boss has on several occasions informed me that I need to do some work on my "tummy." The Asians here are such a kind and honest people.
There are two types of hungry people in the world. There are those types of people who do not have food and they do not know when their next meal may arrive. They go about their day to day activities just the same as anyone else but they do it without any food based energy inside them. The same people who would give a bit a food to someone else before consuming it themselves. These are the people that you and I should admire because while they have no choice in what they eat, they still survive.
There are also people like me. Now I will tell you, I really am poor and even when I do start to make any real money that money will have to go back to other people who have had to hear me say over and over "just help me a little bit and I will get it back to you." I have to borrow money in order to still look poor which gives no satisfaction to those who loan the money. People like me are hungry because they don't know what the hell they are doing and they make impulsive decisions that put them in the position of having to deny themselves sustenance in the first place. These are the people that you probably won't be sympathetic to but you can at least laugh at their slightly less miserable predicament.
So is Hungry a country or a state of mind? Well I travelled to hungry by myself and I was so poor then that I had to sleep in a bus station with a bunch of hobos who smelled like rotten pumpkins and I can tell you for sure that I had some hungry times then as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)