Yes I am alive. I know I haven't blogged in months and I have no excuse except I that I couldn't write. Yes, I have what you would call a Blogger's Block. I shall attempt to write something tonight, substantial or otherwise.
Here we go.
I am based in Beijing now. I've been here for almost a week. I finally was able to get out of THAT city. But don't tell anyone to what I am about to tel
l you, okay. I miss THAT city. Well, how can I not? I lived there for 7 years for crying out loud. Now, Beijing. The Big Smoke. The Big B. The Olympic City. Beijing is so hyped up right now that it could run for a democratic/republican/independent whatever nomination. It's polluted as f*ck. No wonder they call it the Big Smoke. The day I arrived in the Big B, I could not see a single edifice farther than 100 meters. And to top that, the weather was humid. And I was carrying 8 pieces of luggage (see picture below).
Anyways, I decided to move to Beijing NOT BECAUSE OF THE OLYMPICS, but because my clients are based here {yes I still whore my ass despite the fact that I am turning thirty this November} and its closer to almost {well, almost} any place in China, flights and trains and all.
I already have my flat set up. It's way smaller than the flat that I shared with Wendy – two bedroom, a tiny vestibule that can pass as a bathroom, a kitchen in which I cannot use the gas stove {building policy, but there is a friggen gas stove – they should've just removed the friggen gas stove if I am not allowed to use it}, AC{thank gawd}, cable {like actual cable with foreign channels} and the whole shebang. It's small, yeah, but I like it. Why you ask? I don't have neighbors in me building. All the other rooms are offices during the day and are empty as a Ben Affleck movie at night. You know what that means eh? ORGIES, PARTIES and SACRIFICIAL RITUALS! WOOOHOOO! I can't wait to run nekkid and drunk. My flat is fairly new as I can still smell the paint. I like the place. It's so obscure and I get some sort of privacy and autonomy. Opposite my building is a huge college dorm building for foreign students. There's a coffee shop at the ground floor called “College Perk” with the same logo as “Friends'” “Central Perk”, only that there's no Jennifer Aniston {Thank Gawd}and the coffee's just ok-ish but real expensivo.
I miss Changchun {me old city}. I miss the visibility and the way the locals speak Chinese. Beijingers have “R”'s in every word they say {well not every word but you can notice the r's every time they say something}. I miss my friends in Changchun. But I needed to leave, move on, explore new horizons and shit.
Anyways, I have almost finished unpacking and shit and my clothes smell like sawdust. Good thing they already delivered the washing machine when I got back from my run so I spent half of the day washing my clothes.
I miss this one guy. I ain't telling you his name. But yeah. I miss him. I miss taking showers with him. {Well he gives a good scrubbing, yo}.
^%^%^%
I've been watching a whole lotta TV lately {cable}. For the first time in years, I was able to sit in front of the tube for two whole hours. I couldn't believe CNN could be so riveting.
@$@$@$
My internet connection is super duper fast. Well, I paid for it. You know whut that means....... PORN.
&*&*&*&
I had a meeting yesterday with one of my clients. Let's just say that this particular client is not in my favorites list. I'll give you the cliffnotes version. Let's call this client Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston acquired my services for some yadi yadi. Since it was money, I took the job. You know me, I never say no to money {*Omar genuflects in front of Chairman Mao's smiling 100 Yuan face and makes the sign of the cross}. Wrong move. The client is bordering insufferable. Insufferable I tell ya. I tried almost every tactic in book short of blowing the dude. He's just not sure about what he wants and whenever he gets all rattled up he blames the help (moi). Sucks being a whore, but hey, its a living. A friend and colleague actually advised me to go slow and sorta lead him to a firm decision or some sort of commitment. I followed this friend's advice and guess whut? Didn't work.
Okay, So I was in a meeting with Charlton Heston. I haven't even sat down the chair and he starts barraging me with all these yadi yadi yadas that I am not doing what I am paid to do and shit and that he and his committee is not satisfied about the outcome and shit like that.
{Backgrounder, Charlton and his committee asked me to do a project and I agreed, provided they provided me the actual material for the project. Before I agreed, I briefed Charlton at what I actually do and the method and the means that I will employ should I accept this project. Charlton said he was ok with it. To clarify, I repeated to him him that this is what I do and these are were the means that I employ and shit. He said he was ok with it. So, I said yes. What went wrong then? The material came in trickles. The committee didn't like the means that I employ to do the project – It led me to the conclusion that Charlton didn't consult his committee or he didn't consult them that well since he was always flying from one city or country. Then he blames me. Of course, blame the help when the shit hits the fan}.
So he goes on and on about me not being prepared for the meeting and not even bothering to answer the issues he and his committee pointed out in his last email. I wanted to say something real bad ass at that moment but I held my tongue. Because if I did, it wouldn't have accomplished anything. I came meeting to do business and clearly, he wasn't. He was livid. But I was having a good day so I let him go on and on and on. Yap yap yap yap yap. I even acted contrite just to feed his ego. You see, Charlton was angry because I was incompetent and his justification was that I didn't came prepared for the meeting and that I don't even have a hard copy of his last email, which was the topic of the meeting that day. The clincher is, this whore did not receive any email from Charlton Heston. Old Charlie forgot to send me that one important email that would have justified his frustrations for the project by projecting the whole failure to the hired help because he was flying from one city to another. I knew there was no email from the start of the meeting. I wanted to point out that to old Charlie but he wouldn't let me. So, there I was channelling the beautitudes and trying to be meek and humble of heart.
Finally. I dropped the bomb. I asked Charlton, “What email are you talking about?” {with matching, meek and humble facial expressions plus eyelashes}. He says “What do you mean what email, THIS EMAIL {points to the paper his holding}.
MY MOMENT!
I looked at the paper. Looked at him and said, “I didn't receive this email. Your last email was dated XXXXX. I can check it now in my inbox if you wish. If I'm wrong, then I will apologize, my mistake.” He flinches. He runs to his laptop and checks his files. No email. Couldn't find anything. NADA.
Then he looks at me. I look at him {still with the meek and humble of heart expression and eyelashes and shit} and I said, “May I?”.
He steps aside. I open my Gmail account. I typed his name {I tag all my emails. THANK GOD FOR GMAIL}. All the emails he sent me appeared. All dated. But the one email that he was holding in his hand was no where to be found.
He is silent.
I look at him {still humble but with a slight smile forming, but hardly noticeable}
I cough a little.
I excused myself to the bathroom. Once I closed the bathroom door. I did my best Robert de Niro impersonation from Taxi Driver and I did my victory dance. I texted a friend and told him I'd buy him to have his 7 o'clock free because I was gonna buy him a drink that night.
I went out of the bathroom, and there is Charlton Heston, still checking for the lost email that was never sent.
I sat down beside him and I asked him if he could hand me the hard copy. He did. He's subdued now. More meek. More humble. Mind you, I could've shat on his face and repeat every insult he told me. But I didn't. I didn't come there for a pissing contest. I went to that meeting to do business and to actually salvage something of the project that he and his committee were royally fucking up. It was tempting to actually say a word or two, but the dude was already wounded. And besides, it's inhumane to kick a wounded dog.
He was trying to compose himself. He was rather red. I kept coughing small coughs because I was trying not to laugh. We continued the meeting. He wasn't being Moses now. We were doing business.
I learned a lot after that meeting. A lot.
But the most important lesson that I learned that day was about being quiet in a tumultuous situation. Silence is not a weakness. It's a sharp sword that cuts deep. Shallow waters make a lot of noise, but you don't find the treasure chests under shallow waters. You find the pirate booty in the quiet depths.
THAT AND USE GMAIL MOTHERFUCKERS!
GMAIL FUCKING ROCKS!
{By the way, I hope whoever is reading this shit that I am writing actually doesn't think that I am talking about sex! It's not. I actually do have a job}
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