Musings at the gym

I was wrapping up my workout the other morning when in walked the long-legged wannabe beauty queen. Past her prime, but still young enough to make anyone look twice. Her body, on the other hand, was still basking in the fountain of youth. Not that I could know for sure - I just can't imagine it ever looking better. Anyway, I'm really not that pervert in the gym who leers at you from afar. Or up close for that matter. Nor do I go to the gym for those reasons. But sometimes, Jesus. Looking twice is essential to make sure you saw what you just saw. Which means occasionally you get caught looking in the mirror.

Not that I'm saying I got caught looking the mirror. I could give a fuck. I will not, however, go out of my way and strain my neck to get a glance at someone. That's embarrassing. So the other morning, there I was on the mat looking into the mirror after an uninspired set of stomach crunches. And I saw a pair of legs walk around the mirrored wall behind me. They belonged to her. Naturally.

Anyway, they were long legs. I mean long. Not that she was super tall. It's just that her shorts were super small. And baby blue. And then everything slowed down. Fog crept in under the doors and she threw her hair back. Different music was playing now. She was also wearing leggings and a head band - straight out of some 80's movie tucked far far away in the corner of my mind. If my mind had corners it was certainly there. But this girl didn't start doing Jazzercise. Instead, she did some toe touches, which honestly didn't leave much to the imagination. Much to mine anyway. Hey, I'm trying to workout over here! And then, to my disbelief, she started doing side bends and with one foot elevated, her vagina was practically winking at me. I winked back.

And to answer your question, yes I just said vagina. Oh my God! Heaven's to Betsy! Yes, I know. And I have a penis. The match made in heaven. Moving on. Call me what you will, but pretty much any man is going to notice these things. I'm just putting it in writing. And being honest. And having said that, I really don't need to be seeing that at the gym. Not that I want an all-male gym. No thanks. Definitely prefer a gym of the coed variety, but I don't need to be thinking about sex while I'm working on my stomach. Yes, I should have better control of my thoughts. But I can't because I'm a dog. I mean, a man. And any man would have been thinking the same - even a monk. And this is one reason why, ladies, that men think about sex too much. You're the reason. I'd probably be onto bigger and better things by now, but I've been set back by all these 'unfortunate' and rather time-consuming events in my life. And thus, have progressed rather slowly. One might think this kind of thing could inspire, but really it just leads to perspiration rather than inspiration. And with that, I conclude this nonsense.

The Saigon social scene

I have never been a big party animal and never will be, but I have to say I have enjoyed myself recently at venues I would have previously avoided. I guess I'm not a big fan of the scene, of seeing and being seen and wasting my money on overpriced beverages. I generally prefer to see than to be seen, to people-watch from a safe distance without being watched myself. Some people bask in the spotlight, I run from it. Unless of course I was making millions - then I might feel like it might come with the territory. I wish sometimes I could be invisible, get my shit done without being pointed at or having someone compare their miniature stature to mine. It's just not that funny anymore. Never really was to be honest.

So having said the above, I have generally avoided the popular expat hangouts in Saigon such as Vasco's, Apocalypse, Go2, Lush and others that come to mind such as the Factory, Lavish, Acoustic, Yoko's, Phatty's, Drunken Duck, Bar Number Five, et al. I suppose I'm just not that social. And when I am feeling particularly social, I actually like to hear what my friends are saying without yelling What?! every time they finish speaking. I like music, but not when it feels like my ears are getting raped. Yes, I'm an old man. Turn down that music you sonofabitch!

Not to say that I've never been out in Saigon, I just tend to avoid the above places MOST OF THE TIME. I recently went back to Acoustic for the second time in nearly four years. And it was packed, brimming with mostly young Vietnamese. I'm surrounded by Asians! Such a rarity in Vietnam. Not one to particularly fancy hanging out by the door looking for a place to sit, we found some seats and I eventually blended in with the crowd nursing my beverage of choice, a cold Tiger.

And the beer was actually cold. Not just stuck in the fridge for ten minutes to feel frosty on the outside, but actually chilled throughout. The way a beer should be drunk. And the music was actually good too. A heavyset black guy banging out some classic covers and a cheesy, but likable Vietnamese guy doing a set shortly thereafter. Sure it helped to know the tunes, but they were performed well and I actually found myself singing (mostly in my head) and bobbing along as well. I hate those people.

And last night, a few nights post-Acoustic, I found myself in Vasco's. A place I have only visited a few times and really only to know what all the fuss was about. It wasn't all that. But having said that, I am hard to please. Unless of course we're talking a 14,000 dong beer on the street, but that shit better be cold! This time, I was invited to Vasco's and lately I've been needing a vice so it sounded like a good idea. And it was.

Hanging out with a bunch of new people proved slightly traumatic until the first beer passed my lips. Not really, I just like to exaggerate, but go with it. Anyway, it's not always easy hanging with new people who also happen to be from a different culture. Not that difficult, but harder to know what to say and what's going to be understood. It was fine and a lot of names were finally placed with faces.

And then there were a bunch of recognizable faces from work and softball and here and there and everywhere. Like a high school reunion only it hadn't been that long. Then there was that girl. And that guy. And that other girl. And my old housemate. And apparently some local celebrities. And drunk yet friendly folks passing by and making interesting conversation.

I was told that all the other popular hangouts were closed to mark the observance of a former Vietnamese Prime Minister's recent death. And so everyone came to Vasco's. Why they were able to stay open was not clear. Perhaps they paid off the police. Who the guy was I'll never know as I can't even find information on his death by simply checking the local Vietnamese papers online. Whatever. I was told nobody liked the guy so perhaps nobody did a write up. Well, I'm sure somebody did. I'm just not that interested to find it.

Anyway, maybe I'm changing. I'm going out more, enjoying people's company more and enjoying my own less. Perhaps compensating for all the moments I've enjoyed alone in the past. And also perhaps because I don't know how much longer I'll be in this city and I want to enjoy as many evenings as I can just in case there aren't that many more. And definitely because I'm taking my mind off other issues, which remain, but are at least less of an issue when I'm out enjoying myself. Not the best way to deal, but it could be worse. Always could be worse.

I need change

It's that time again. Approximately every four years, I develop a severe itch to do something new. No, it's not bed bugs. The first time came in 2003 when I up and left the San Francisco Bay Area after enduring various office jobs - none of which were to my liking. I left for greener pastures, which was actually true. I went to Portland, Oregon in the Pacific Northwest. I couldn't bear to think of spending my entire life in one small dot on a map.

In late 2003, I started working at a grocery store. It was a decent job and quite social as well, which was good for living in a new area. It didn't take long, however, for it to become a little mundane. Stocking cans of corn, greeting customers, facing the product. I tried to liven up my life by doing odd jobs on the side and working on creative projects at home. In the end, I had to call it a day. The signs were there and I knew if I didn't take action, the Universe would and I'd get run over by a bus for not listening.

So in late 2007, that magical four year mark, I went to Bangkok with a one-way ticket in hand and a slate full of possibilities ahead of me. Not that I really knew what any of them were at the time. And now, nearly four years later, here I am, teaching English in Vietnam. And guess what, surprise surprise, the clock is ticking, the internal time bomb is about to explode. I've been aware of it for some time and I keep defusing it, but like one of those damned trick birthday candles, it keeps relighting itself.

I never really thought of myself as a teacher. I don't want to stand and talk in front of twenty people - are you kidding me? But it was a hurdle, a fear you could say, that I wanted to get over. And now that I've done it, ok, done. I could strive to become the best teacher I can be, but in reality that's not what it is. I have to strive to become the best entertainer. And I'm not a dancer, a singer, a magician or a musician. Nor do I want to be.

I didn't ever want to be a grocery store clerk either. I don't want to stand making idle chit-chat with random strangers scanning their unscannable groceries. What will I do if my curry digests in a hurry? But I did it, got over the stupid fear of being 'in the spotlight' and actually enjoyed myself, for a time. And then, I needed to move on. Exactly what is happening now. I'm aware of it, but still trying to fend it off for just a little while longer.

This need would have arisen a long time ago if it hadn't been for other changes in my life and school. First, the school changed the book. Thank Gosh. I had to prepare lessons again and learning a new book made teaching more interesting. But that still left me at the same school, where I had to see the same faces every day. Some of them easier to bear than others. And I found myself trying to find a quiet place, which usually meant staring at the small screen on my mobile 'meditating' until a few minutes after the bell rang, which I might add is when everyone went to class.

A couple nervous breakdowns later, I was fortunate to be transferred to a different campus, which happened to be even closer to my home. At first I was hesitant to the new location, but in reality, the change in scenery helped postpone any further breakdowns from occurring. And a quicker commute, meaning less traffic and staying dry during monsoon season, was also highly advantageous.

But like I said, the fuse kept getting relit. Nothing I could do about that. So I took a six-week holiday to mull things over and felt thoroughly refreshed when I came back. For a couple days. And then, all the same feelings came quickly rushing back. It's like the dam is breaking, the leak is turning into a gush and I keep plugging holes by making small changes, keeping me momentarily happy until all the weak spots eventually give way.

I just got a haircut. That helps for a couple days. So does a shave. And getting new resources from the internet. A few new games go a loooong way to help liven up the classroom. I even went so far as to go to the tailor. I have enough clothes, but I tire of everything quickly. Two new shirts and two pants. That'll do it. I might even get a new bag. Tired of that old briefcase. Even having a sharp dry-erase marker makes me feel more at the top of my game.

But ultimately these changes - new mobile, new shoes, new motorbike, new place to live, new neighbors, new students, et al - will not replace a new attitude. And that's what I need. But unfortunately I can't just buy one of those. If only it were that easy! And it ain't easy to just change my attitude and say Today, I'm going to make a difference or Today I'm going to have fun. Because I can always count on some fool talking on their mobile in class or asking me to play a game. Teecha, play game!

I know I should just let it slide right off my back. Let it go. Let the nonsense go! But I'm on edge and I can't. I'm teetering on the brink and it shows. I'm tense in the classroom and feel like I'm waiting for somebody to start pushing my buttons or give me an unhappy glare because we're actually studying what we should be studying. Or because they only understand 10% of the listening activity and yes, it's my fault. I'm sorry.

I guess what it comes down to is passion. This isn't mine. Never will be. If I found mine, I'd be pursuing it with the intensity of a hungry fox in a hen house. Or a drunken horny frat boy at a sorority party. And so here we go again. Stop what I'm doing. Travel some. Think some. Experience a lot. Find something new. Hopefully something that will make me smile more and complain less. Doesn't hurt to dream.