We Are Not Your Slaves

The War at Home by Chip Tsao.

This is too offensive to be considered satirical. The Spanish, Americans and Japanese have already had their turn and are done with us, leaving a few remnants of their influence to help us get by with what's left of our land. The Chinese though, despite not using warlike methods, hold certain power over my people in this day and age thanks to their contribution to our economy (big businesses in the Philippines are owned by Chinese families).

I cannot express how much these fuckers look down on us. They really think the sole purpose of our existence is to serve them, like that issue a few months ago where Macau threatened to fire thousands of Overseas Filipino Workers (can't find the article anymore, it's not this) just because we're that expendable.

I won't go into this much. I'm too tired to think about it more than I do now.

And if anyone who's known me for a long time and is reading this: this is not about Michele.

Thought In My Head

I found a wallet in a convenience store in the city last Friday night. There were some bills and credit cards. After much thought, I surrendered the wallet to the storekeeper without taking anything from it.

Then I went back to my drinking and gambling, thinking my conscience is clear and what I did will generate good karma.

Then I suddenly remembered two things:

1) I'm trying to kill my conscience so I can fight better.

and

2) I don't believe in karma.

Square One

Training in a grappling martial art.

A trip to Europe for some soul-searching.

An apartment all to myself.

Too many things to dream about doing this year, but not enough money to make them all come true. Even as I cut down my social activities, I still only have enough to pay for the expenses on basic things. I guess I may not be able to achieve that goal I so arrogantly boasted about last year. Not that I had enough optimism in me anyways.

Fortunately, I was able to find an affordable Brazilian Jujitsu school which is not too far away from work and held classes twice a week. The instructor held Muay Thai classes always before the BJJ class (he's a professional mixed martial artist), so I got a preview of his teaching style before I signed up. Which I did as soon as the BJJ class started for the evening.

I was taught a few very useful basics; keeping the mount position, a submission hold and defending from the mount position. It took a little getting used to having a guy on top of me (shut up), as I have always been used to getting the upper hand when the fight gets to the ground. Honestly, I haven't adapted to the feeling yet. I panic when I'm the one on the bottom and I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of helplessness. The feeling of loss. Of doom.

And then I was thrown in for the sparring session.

The class was mostly composed of huge guys with an athletic build and a level of expertise way past mine. It was perfect. I have always wished for stronger opponents, and there I was- about to face each one in the class. My heart raced a bit, not out of fear but of nervousness. I did not want my new colleagues to hold back yet I also wanted to show everyone that I am a seasoned fighter. I cannot bear the feeling of being underestimated in a contest of fighting skill. I don't want to be in that place ever again.

I took on a huge black guy who has reached blue belt. He was good. A few seconds into our first grapple, he had me in a rear naked choke. In the first time of my fourteen years of fighting and sparring, I had finally tasted defeat by submission. It was the first of at least two spars that night of which I tapped out. I did, however, manage to make this huge English bloke tap out with a keylock. Another highlight of that night was I almost had the black guy in an armbar, which impressed the instructor who thought that all this time that I was fresh off the boat. Other than those two things, I was pretty much owned the whole night.

It's an invigorating feeling for me, losing in sparring like that. It's been so long since some street scum handed my ass to me and yet I feel no damage to my ego (not to say my colleagues are street scum), in fact, I feel stronger now that I'm aware of my weaknesses. It just gives me the motivation to train harder and push my limits. Maybe I still am on that road to respect after all.

On other news:

My Valentine's Day special is delayed due to lack of inspiration. Yes, I intended to make "A Letter To No One" a yearly thing. Bonus points to whoever can guess who my main inspiration was for writing the piece. It'll be out soon.

Elsa

Jodie. Callie. Claire. Jasmine. Becs. Marianne…

At different points of my life, I have been attracted to each of them; some were petty crushes, a few of them a mistake in judgment, and one, a friendship gone awkward. Aside from the fact that these women were all the focus of my attention, they all have another thing in common: they all work in the hospitality industry.

Waitresses, bartenders and even managers… there’s just something about them that I can’t seem to ignore. Eddie says I can’t move forward if I keep looking behind me. Or some shit like that. Either way, I have a complex about it which I promised to fight after Becs’s rejection. (Yes, I will have to post that story some other time as per request of Miss Milk)

But the café… oh Elias, why oh why… seems to have some sort of charm that draws female applicants (from Europe!) to join their waiting staff. With an unusually high employee turnover at the café, I could almost compare the phenomenon to an FHM monthly release.

Meet Elsa, a 22-year old goddess from Latvia. She’s an upcoming Uni student and a (professional?) dancer. If my information is correct, she’s been in Australia for about two years under a non-permanent resident visa and used to work as a Latvian-English translator for some company before handing in her application to Elias. She’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, a slender and curvaceous figure, and a perfect ass.

Needless to say, I really thought she was beautiful the first time I laid my eyes on her, but at the time, I was still quite bitter about the Becs incident. I thought to myself, Oh no- you gals ain’t gonna get me this time… bitches. and kept reasonable distance from her, but every now and then casually have a chat. For the first week, I noticed that she was quite plain and down-to-earth. Having discussions with Elsa was like having a chat with my co-workers on a quiet day in the office: pointless and time-killing, except her radiant smile makes the exchange all the more enjoyable. She could really just be a girl next door, despite her beauty and popularity amongst other customers. And really I like the girl-next-door stereotype. As soon as I felt that tingle of infatuation though, I shook it off with all my willpower.

Which I did again when she first told me she was a dancer- an R&B/Hiphop dancer as well as generic performance artist.

…and did it one more time when she said she wanted to learn how to do the salsa.

The biggest challenge was when I told her I’ve been to a Latin dance club which she’s never been to that played mostly salsa music. I had to kick my balls in my mind to dismiss the urge to ask her out.

During the Christmas season, the café had to close for about a few weeks because the guys needed a break and had to do some cleaning for the New Year. Elsa was taking time off to go on a road trip to the Outback with her (hot) European friends. I was only off for the weekends and public holidays, so I wasn’t able to relax as much as the café crew… but I guess it was cool because I wouldn’t be seeing Elsa much. I thought that her absence would do me good. During the period of the café’s temporary closure, I would every now and then shake off the thoughts Is she hooking up out there? or What if she gets hurt?.

Nothing like a few beers and some gambling to collapse the mind and prevent such thoughts from bothering me.

The café then reopened about mid- January. I saw her again. I thought, Oh fuck.

After realising that I stupidly (and perhaps inevitably) had grown fond of Elsa, I minimised our conversations almost to none. I would greet and smile to her each afternoon I drop by the café and wish her a good day as I leave to return to work just for courtesy’s sake. I then started wearing my sunglasses during lunch again, for some reason. I then realised that I did that so I could look at her as she served customers without looking too weird. Okay, I did look weird but at least I wasn’t apparently looking at her. Sometimes (I thought) I could see her looking my way during quieter days, and when I do think that, I just go Naaaaah and I’m looking at you too at the same time, in my head.

I didn’t really know where this charade of mine was really going, but even I was growing tired of it. I realised that no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to protect myself from disappointment, it’s my nature to feel this way towards such a woman. I can’t lie to myself… women from hospitality are very attractive to me and I must so then embrace that truth until I can somehow get over it.

I then started planning on how I’m going to ask Elsa out. Fuck it, if I get rejected- what else is new, right?

‘IP,’ Janine said one day, during my lunchbreak at the café. ‘I have some bad news.’

Elsa was leaving.

She was told by a University in Latvia that she needed to fly back for to apply and attend an interview for her qualifications to enter. She’s not even guaranteed to get in, and the term starts in late November, which should have been her last month in Australia. When I asked Elias and Janine why she couldn’t stay go to Uni here, I was reminded of her visa. It would have been too expensive for her to remain in Australia to study and survive at the same time, and going back to Latvia- even if only to apply and be jobless for a couple of months- was only a few hundred dollars cheaper than staying. When Elias and Janine were informed of the situation, they were really sad because they had to lose the best waitress they’ve ever had ever.

I was surprised. I was convincing myself that I’m wasn’t shattered by this news, that I expected the turn of events, that it’s all cool.

I wore a mask of indifference for the next few days, to go with my sunglasses. I spoke more to her, doing my best to avoid the topic of her departure. But curse my weak will, I couldn’t help wanting to know how she felt about leaving the café or life in Australia. Elsa said she was very happy working under Janine and Elias and that she’s enjoyed her entire stay in Sydney. ‘It’s a pity,’ I told her. ‘I never got the chance to see you dance.’

She smiled. I’m not sure if it was a sad smile or an annoyed one. I never can tell.

I wanted to do something for her. After researching for the meanings of different rose colours and finding a good flower shop in the Sydney that delivers any day, I figured she might appreciate ten pink flowers with a little teddy bear, and a note that said:

“Elsa,

May your smile forever inspire my day. Stay safe wherever you go.

X”

I decided to be anonymous about it. I don’t care how many times it happened before- rejection would still hurt as bad as the first time. And even if she does accept this little present, I wouldn’t want things to become awkward between us when she receives it. It’s enough for me that I have this once chance to see Elsa smile and be the reason behind it. If she doesn’t appreciate it, then that’s just another $70.00 (AUD) down the drain, which I can consider a part of my gambling losses, seeing that this stunt was a gamble itself.

I instructed the florist to have the present delivered on Friday morning, since Elsa’s shift finishes at 3:00 PM. The order was placed on a Wednesday afternoon and for the two nights prior to the delivery, I was troubled. On the same Wednesday night, I smoked half a pack, ate a huge KFC meal, lost $200.00 to pokies and went home drunk... all because I wanted to shake off the nervousness. The next night, I couldn’t sleep because I was still nervous.

On Friday afternoon, I rehearsed my denial responses in case someone suspected that I sent the flowers and stiffened my facial expression on the way to the café. Elsa was the first person I saw when I got there. I waved my hand in greeting but she didn’t look my way. I looked to the area where the serviettes and utensils are, and I saw the roses. ‘Hey IP, Elsa says thanks for the flowers.’ Elias announced, with glee, and with a cute blonde customer present. ‘She just doesn’t know how to say it right now,’

Fuck. How did they know?

‘What are you guys going on about?’ I denied, checking that I had my sunglasses on.

‘Elsa got some flowers and a teddy this morning.’ Janine added. ‘She’s been smiling all day! We thought you would’ve sent them.’

Oh God, give me the willpower not to smile or blush.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I denied once more, still trying to keep my face stiff. ‘What makes you think I sent them?’

‘Because we know you to be a sweet guy,’ smiled Janine, ever so accurately reading me to the soul.

I denied a couple of more times before they finally gave up and Elias started making my Cappuccino. Elsa was silent the whole time. I couldn’t help but think that I may have fucked up this one chance to show her my admiration without embarrassing her. I took my coffee off the counter, sat on my usual spot on the concrete bench and tucked my head behind a newspaper to wallow in shame. Janine walked out of the counter and sat next to me.

‘Was it you, IP?’

‘How did you know it was me? My handwriting?’

‘We just thought you were the type of guy to do such a thing.’

‘I’m that transparent, huh? Does she like it?’

‘Yeah, it was a nice thing to give as farewell present. Why didn’t you put your name in it?’

‘Because I don’t want to put Elsa in an awkward situation- like the one we just ended. As long as she appreciates and likes it, that’s all the thanks I need. Please don’t tell anyone it was me.’

Janine accepted my request and told everyone that it wasn’t me. After a few minutes, Elsa’s shift had ended and I got to see her walk away with the flowers. We waved each other goodbye and I was a bit relieved that she took it with her. ‘Hey Lucci,’ Janine asked a regular customer who approached the counter to pay. ‘Did you send those flowers?’

‘Of course I did!’ Lucci jokingly answered.

No way, dickhead.

‘No, no... I wouldn’t spend that much for a woman.’ He followed up, taking back what he said. ‘What’s that girl’s type anyway?’

I didn’t want to know. I didn’t because part of knew that I wouldn’t fit the criteria seeing the class of woman that Elsa is and the other part was afraid that if by some miracle, I’m her type of guy- then that means I have just missed a chance of a lifetime and am once again slapped in the face by destiny. But I listened in anyway.

‘Elsa wants a real man. Strong, strong in mind, not too soft, has a direction in life, not too clingy, not a pretty boy and never a sleaze.’

Crap. I was overwhelmed by the all sorts of regret. Regret that I may have missed the bull's eye by a few millimetres. Regret that I may have been Elsa’s ideal man if I worked hard enough to improve my weak points. Regret that I didn’t know this much about her back then. Regret that I don’t have enough time to win her over. Regret that I didn’t meet her a long time ago.

Janine revealed to us that the longest relationship that Elsa’s ever been in lasted only a month. She also said that Elsa wants a fantastic relationship or none at all. Elsa is the type of woman that doesn’t need a man, but she would enjoy one’s company in addition to her life and yet will never make him the basis of it.

Beautiful. Sexy. Wise. Mature.

Elsa.

If everything Janine has said about Elsa was true, then I truly have fallen. Now, I want her more than ever. The feeling is familiar and the end result is inevitable. I can’t stop it even if meant saving my life- it’s just my nature to fall too soon and too hard. Hah. Even if I had what it took to make her stay, I wouldn’t dare make her anyway. What kind of man would I be if I stood between her and her dreams? I guess it was doomed from the start after all.

Elsa will be leaving in two weeks’ time. She will be working until Saturday and then spend her last week going to places around Australia.

I miss her already.

Thought In My Head

"...I don't know if you think the same about me, but you are honestly one of the best Filos I've met in my life. You're one of my best friends."

"Dude, you're not my friend. You're my brother."

The Great Escape

I am a revenant, the bitter remains of an elven captain slain in a hopeless battle battle against a legion of the undead. I was resurrected by my murderers to serve as an eternal minion to join their growing army of desecrated corpses in their campaign to destroy all that live. Fortunately, I have been freed from mindless servitude when a moment of weakness was unexpectedly caused by my masters' adversaries. With no force binding me any longer to my masters, I have regained my identity and became shattered to realise what I have become- or rather, been turned into. With burning hatred and restless jealousy in my near-rotted heart, I turned my back on the values I held dear as an honoured warrior of the woods and took the path of a silent killer that stalks the night. Compassion? Truth? Justice? These hindrances would only be a burden for my unending quest to satisfy my greed and lust. As I am now a monster, it is only appropriate that I live accordingly.

I have lived and continue to live more than a dozen lives aside from my own. I am a judge, a victim, a saviour, a murderer, a martyr and the apocalypse on different occasions, but sometimes all at once. These personalities are all mine and yet none can be me. With these identities I share my heart, mind and soul.

Dungeons & Dragons. World of Warcraft. Vampire: The Eternal Struggle. So much more.

I have been indulging in fantasy, tradable card games and role-playing games ever since the last few years of my high school. No matter what sport I played or socialising I did before I lost my virginity, nothing has ever given me the satisfaction of time well spent better than a session of playing make-believe with a couple of dice, a keyboard or a stack of cards. I guess I was also lucky that my then girlfriends understood and respected my need for a fantasy fix and were kind enough to let me hang out with my gaming group every once a week, as long as it doesn't get in the way of our intimate times.

Now that I have grown more apathetic and indifferent towards society, I find myself wanting the thrill of a game once again. Come to think of it, the need has never really left me at all; it's the way life was going that made me too distracted to realise what I've been missing. Lately, I can't help but think that I' d be more content right now if by some way, I could play on a regular basis as I did back in college with my game group/fight club. Back then, I couldn't give a shit about what people thought about me, as long as I could shrink back into my little pretend world and be everything that reality and destiny denies me to become.

I have a job that earns enough to sustain myself and my family. I have no partner to worry about or care for. I am strong and brave enough to take on any living man. I have enough people to trust.

I'm good then, right? I can't be judged as useless, correct? Fuck no, the real world isn't so merciful.

I wish I could stop wanting anything else. I wish I didn't have to prove myself to everyone around me. I wish I wasn't so desperetely seeking the validation of my existence. I wish didn't have to feel lonely.

In my fantasy world I don't need to wish as much.

It's where I want to be when I don't want to be what I am right now.

Thought In My Head

Be still, my heart.