a reversal of fortunes, both literal and figurative

The cockroach insurgency in my kitchen has regrouped in strength and numbers. The situation demands greater non-conventional weaponry, more attention paid to the kitchen’s hygienic infrastructure, and a strategic approach balancing the two with a sensitivity to the level of toxicity, while minimizing damages, in and around the kitchen appliances and utensils.

When I moved into the apartment and discovered the cockroaches had the law of the land, I was confident in my established strategy that I had brought from my prior home. It had worked well in the Croc House. Although we continued to have the occasional massive cockroach perched on a windowsill or crawling on the wall, that could mostly be attributed to the abundance of windows and not our approach to their eradication. In the Croc House, we had separated and divided the recycling from the trash, and subdivided the recycling into separate containers which were each filled and emptied regularly. This enabled us to maintain a minimal level of hygiene in the kitchen (in no small part to my tremendous solo effort to keep it clean) while simultaneously depriving the cockroaches of resources. Regular floor-washings further depleted their food sources and the rare Raid carpet-spraying underneath the cabinets ensured they established no permanent strongholds.

However the Croc House had much different terrain than my current apartment, and although my current apartment has a much greater degree of bilateralism among allied and local forces, our resources are slightly more limited, it’s nearly impossible to accurately number the potential strongholds held by the insurgents, and a large-scale assault would almost assuredly exceed the toxicity and minimal hygiene threshold accepted by allied forces. Thus the strategy must necessarily be altered.

Raid must be used with much greater discretion than in the Croc House. As the primary force involved in combating the cockroaches in the Croc House, and considering the large degree of ventilation in almost all rooms, I could use the Raid as I saw fit, and with relative impunity. However, my new roommate has a legitimate protest to keep toxic materials away from the cooking environment. This complicates things, and although the Raid will occasionally find use outside the kitchen, its utility has been drastically reduced. However, we’ve recently changed our approach to include unmanned Raid traps, which have been strategically placed to harrow the cockroaches at bottlenecks and locations where they’re frequently seen. But there’s a large number of hiding places under the cabinets in the kitchen, and in adjacent territories which are far less frequently patrolled. We could expand our unmanned Raid trap program, but it is cost-prohibitive, and as previously reported, the sovereign nation of Me is on the brink of insolvency due to the onerous weight of necessary stimulus programs (such as the Mandarin program, to stimulate my mind, and my cat’s surgery, to lighten the crushing existential loneliness I carry with me everywhere).

Meanwhile, conventional weapons continue to be effective (i.e. crushing them beneath my fist) but to a limited degree. Which is to say that once cockroaches get too large it’s just too disgusting to hear them, and feel them, crunch on my hand. Have you ever tried it after they get to a certain size? One time in a fit of over-enthusiasm I squashed a medium-sized roach and a host of milky-white eggs sprayed sideways out of its ruptured abdomen. It would’ve almost been like Christmas, if only instead of presents, Santa Claus was actually a disgusting monster who delivered repulsive little versions of himself that would squirm around your garbage can, frantically flee from all light, and survive nuclear holocausts while still fucking each other without their heads attached. Ho ho ho! *waves antennae*

Right.

Anyway, talking about the Mandarin program, I’m about a month in and I really enjoy it. Unsurprisingly I have a hard time getting up in the morning and frequently arrive late to class, but my Chinese speaking ability (the program doesn’t really focus on writing characters) has improved immensely. I seem to have a semi-intuitive grasp of the tones, but that’s probably has more to do with the fact that I’d already been in Taiwan for a year and a half before signing up for a course, rather than some innate ability to ululate my voice. Although who knows? I might yet achieve my dream of perfecting that elusive Tarzan yell. No reason to stop practicing, right? All apologies to my new neighbors.

To touch upon my omnipresent financial woes, the economy in the sovereign nation of Me was recently struck by a bout of severe deflation, brought upon by the loss of my wallet. Considering the last time I lost my wallet was six years ago on account of debauched weekend antics, and I continue to drink alcohol for likely the same reasons, I probably don’t need to give you many details other than that I woke up that morning in a park. This was itself a figurative wake up call, because in addition to the years taken off my lifespan by that one night’s indulgences (a relatively minor nuisance, those years) I also lost a wad of cash, a bunch of business cards, my ID cards, my ATM cards, and the nostalgic value of my New York driver’s licenses. And, of course, the wallet itself. So recovering all that (which I still haven’t) has become a massive pain in my ass. I just recently re-acquired my bank cards and a metro pass. I’m thinking of just buying a money clip so I don’t have to deal with the hassle of carrying business cards or a vessel to store them in. Plus, it looks really classy with a suit.

On a more personal update, I recently discovered I can be a real jealous bastard when it comes to girls, or at least one particular girl, who I will refer to here (for sake of privacy) as TennisStar. I’ve recently twice had personal relationships with acquaintances negatively impacted on account of a testosterone-infused territorialism that rears its ugly simian head whenever I feel that another male is making moves on my girl. The first one was actually with my former-new and then soon-to-be-ex roommate, who had long been preparing to depart for New Zealand the month after I’d moved in. Fortunately my relationship with him recovered before he left so we were able to part on a lighter, more friendly note. My reconciliation with him was made possible due to a self-awareness resulting from the second incident, which almost resulted in a fistfight.

The story isn’t really that interesting to me except for revealing an aspect of me that I should’ve expected but didn’t. So it was educational, at least. I’ll leave out most details since it happened a few weeks ago and it’s largely faded from memory. Skipping to the end of the story, my jealously erupted when the former acquaintance elicited (asked) for the aforementioned female -  TennisStar – ‘s phone number while a group of us sat around drinking. This set me off on a withdrawn, seething path that eventually tainted the mood of the gathering, and in turn isolated TennisStar, causing her to leave, and I followed her and had an argument, which I regret. I was quite visibly angry, and my other friend Peasnu, and my friend Logan’s girlfriend Johnna, followed me out of concern for TennisStar. After our argument, which really wasn’t much of one at all, I returned back to Logan and Peasnu’s apartment on my own, all the while trying to legitimize to myself several reasons to calm down. And I thought I’d gotten a grip and could talk to the guy levelly, but when I walked back inside, Logan greeted me with a genuinely confused inquiry to my (presumably mental) well-being, and then I turned to see that particular male (hereafter referred to as Smirk) lounging on the couch and looking slightly self-satisfied, yet also slightly perturbed that I’d returned.

I then proceeded to demean, taunt, bully, and threaten Smirk, and a fist that continued to tighten hovered gradually closer to his face until Logan separated us. I’m pretty certain it would have resulted in a brawl if Logan hadn’t intervened. I know I was at fault because I had been instigating this conflict in Logan’s own home, of which neither Smirk nor I were residents. And while Smirk didn’t show much interest in escalating the dispute into a physical altercation, I was certainly willing to, which goes contrary to the rational and sober part of my mind which I like to think tries to avoid violence unless necessary. And while, in my opinion, Smirk definitely deserved (and still deserves) to get knocked around a few times, possibly for his own benefit, I didn’t and don’t need to be the one to do it. From what he said during the Logan-mediated ‘sit-down’, during his long-winded and meandering ‘defense’ of his behavior, I got the impression that Smirk is actually a lonely and unhappy guy. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that he’s an asshole.

In any case, although I acted out of line, I adamantly hold that my reasons for getting angry were well-founded and the guy was also out of line by acting like a smug, silver-spoon wielding idiot who afterward couldn’t seem to reconcile a clearly-stated consequence with an equally clear cause. Regardless of how that person feels, or that person’s apparently delicate sensibilities, a self-absorbed person should at least be aware that there really is a world that they’re detached from. If they can’t conduct themselves accordingly, the rest of the world shouldn’t be expected to coddle them for it.

Also, while I’ve enjoyed success at controlling my temper of late, I admit I can be prone to an impulsive rage. But Smirk has also been known to make advances on my good friend’s wife (both of whom were Smirk’s roommates at the time) and had also been disparaging Peasnu to his face that night, as he’d done several times in the past. And immediately prior to my outburst, Smirk had been getting touchy-feely with Logan’s girlfriend. It turns out that she and Smirk are actually quite good friends, but all I knew about it was the rigid displeasure Logan was masking and I saw no reason to ruminate on why Smirk was acting like an asshole when he quite obviously didn’t have to.

And so I blew up and that’s one former acquaintance I’m not too concerned about alienating. It’s ancient history now anyway. Water under the illogically-constructed bridge that continues to be my existence in Taiwan. Where the bridge goes, how long it’ll take to complete, and why the hell I’m building it in spirals and loops, are all questions that I expect will be answered in due course.