Michael’s Forest

Commes Des Garcons is a current obssession.

I don’t really know what propelled me to write these things down. I suppose a part of myself will always want to keep a record of the things I feel passionate about. Keeping track of obssessions (and elucidating them online for the entire world to appreciate) sounds suspiciously like another platform for egocentricsm. In a sense, I am no longer reflecting on the artistic production of other people. I’m actually writing about the things that give me the most pleasure: symbols I have taken into my being, warped and modifid into an extension of myself. Anyways, personal neurosis aside, here is an account of things that help to define my current conscious experience:

Rei Kawabuko of Commes de Garcons

A rebel and an eccentic, Rei Kawabuko is an eigma in modern fashion: she never discloses the intentions behind her designs but allows her work to speak for itself. She revolutionized fashion in the eighties when her scary, assymetrical black clothing that was the complete antithesis to the frivolous, sequined couture of that era. Kawabuko is also reclusive and shies away from publicity. Her interviews often leave admirers and critics with more question than answers. But hers is a unique achievement: she has managed to create a company that has made millions, selling highly conceptual pieces of clothing that critics warned her no one would wear. Kawabuko is above trends and the fickle capers of the fashion public. On the downside, she has been accused of being polemic (accusations range from anti- Semitism to being reticent to generate publicity). But Kawabuko remains unperturbed. She is the founder and head designer of Comme des Garcons (which means ‘one of the boys’ in French). Her clothes are highly conceptual (othes say impractical) pieces of avante garde art: cloth sculptures you can wear. She has a fondness for drab colors like monochrome black, white and grey. Her niche market unsuprisingly is other like minded ceative types: men and women who work in architecture and design.

If I had the money, I’d wear Commes de Gracons too.

I remember when I was living in Kuala Lumpur, a progressive men’s boutique called ‘Philosophy’ used to stock samples of her designs. One particular long sleeved shirt caught my eye: a black number with slashes of silver kimono patterns sliced into the sides. It was a highly unusual shirt, seemingly designed to make the wearer look unattractive or even mentally unstable but I feel in love with it. Unfortunatelty, I did not fall in love wit the the price: it was about 1000 ringgit, roughly 10,000 pesos in pre-2000. Even when they went on sale, I still could not afford the buy that shirt (which was now retailing for 800 ringgit or 8000 pesos). Nevertheless, I still ponder that shirt: it haunts my dreams. I hope to someday buy that shirt or something like it from Commes de Gracons. I am smitten and I just can’t help it.

PS: Did you know that early Comme des Garcons designs were so strangely unfamiliar that they came with instructions showing the proper way to wear them? Oh, and one of my favorite designs comes from a cicra 1996 collection: models were sent down the catwalk wearing white or grey shrouds with stuffing added to strategic areas, making the wearers look like sub humans with lumps protruding from various pats of their anatomy. Those designs drew a fair amount of praise and ridicule. But it just goes to show that no one can pull a stunt like that save Rei Kawabuko.

PART 1

Finally it’s the weekend.

Boy did I have an interesting week.Firstly, we had a sort of ‘christening’ in the office. Being my usual, oblivious self, I’m not really sure what we were celebrating or even why, but as far as I can gather, the PM shift (which happens to be the shift I’m in…duh!) has been renamed Team Washington. The AM shift is now called Team Hawaii. Both teams are expected to come up with a sort of dance and chant with allusions and puns related to their team’s new name. It’s been kind of fun. Our free time for the past two weeks has been occupiedwith masterminding cheers and dance steps for our presentation (so high school but boy does it bring out the raving youth in you). We laugh and joke a lot during practice. But the sad part is:

a) none of us can dance

b) none of us are paticularly creative

We practised last night for like two hours after our shift. But our presentation is going to be so lame. I just know it: our chant sucks and our dance moves are retard worthy. Oh yeah, and the AM shift (Team Hawaii now) did this really cool Hawaian themed dance, complete with a drum and hula dancing in grass skirts. They were pounding and jiving all over the room and looked pretty cool (the unmagnannimous side of me simmering in resentment ofcourse). They seemed really natural, like real natives in a Hawaiian island in the Pacific. All that was missing was a Tiki statue and a human sacrifice.

Anyways we had a fun week.

Chris (my wannabe supermodel seat mate of Spanish descent) has been busy decorating the entire office with lurid colored papers and confetti. I can’t really say he’s done a VERY good job ,but the office now looks a lot less drab. Less sarcophagus-like in a way. Our presentation is next week. I hope it will be good. Not as good as the raving AM islanders, but at least not disastrous.

PART 2

My students have been decreasing. I don’t know whether this should worry me really, but I hope it’s not because the Korean Administration considers me to be a bad teacher. I’m a GOOD teacher. And I’m getting better everyday too. I’m finally able to teach Vitamin En properly to all my thick headed Shinhan executives (for those not in the know…Vitamin En is the beloved text book used by the employees of Shinhan Bank). My Shinhan students are really nice and they seem to like me. I hope they remember what I teach them after class though. ‘Apply what you learn’ is the subliminal mantra I seer into their heads in every class. Oh, and I have this student named Shirley (not her real name). She’s twenty- two but still living with her parents. She’s currently on a hiatus from a degree in English Literature. Basically, she’s been spending the past year bumming around: drinking with her friends, watching movies and going online. But she’s like twenty- two. Come on. I know I wasn’t placed on earth to tell other people how to live their lives, but isn’t it time she did herself a favor (her parents included) by moving towards a greater degree of independence by doing something innovative like (gasp!) taking a job? She ought to be doing something more constructive with her free time…. I really like her though (she may actually be reading this…..she knows my friendster URL). She’s smart and kind and may be leaving for New Yok to study English next month (see, she’s actually doing something constructive with her free time after all…I’m sorry about my earlier denouncement). But being Korean, and this being post- Viginia Tech massacre season, her family has strongly cautioned her against going there. I do too. I pray she’ll make the right decision and come back to class. Ahhhhh!

PART 3

Confession time.

You know, my life is not a bed of roses. I know many are oblivious and don’t have a clue to my emotional turmoil. People are great actors aren’t they? They laugh and sit in font of their computers, working like androids…not giving the world any indication to the anger or despair they may be wrestling with in their hearts and minds. At least that’s how I assume people perceive me. They don’t realize how angry and confused I feel. How haunted I am by my past mistakes or how dissatisfied I truly feel over the way my life has turned out. I’m a broken toy. Hurt and bruised by myriad dissapointments. A disillusioned dreamer, that’s me. I feel really alone and this angers me. To any family or friends reading this, I hope this does not come as a shock. I’m lonely and frustrated because I’m always distancing myself from people because I’m afraid of being hurt. I’m suffering because of it. I’m a fool really, trapped in my own self-imposed prison. Led astray by the lies I’ve been feeding myself. My heart feels broken. Empty, scarred and wounded. My mind is a battle field of torment. I know I’m not crazy…but people can see and sense the disturbance in my mind and that shames me. I know I’m not crazy. Twisted maybe, but not crazy. I mean…I can function in nomal society.

But what really frustrates me is the fact that I can’t even be honest or open about what I truly feel. I’m an enigma to people because I keep so much of myself locked away. My heart is a wilderness, incapable of giving or receiving love. I’ve always wondered (for a long time anyway) why I can’t appear to accept, receive or appreciate love (but I’m so good at haboring and brooding over resentment). The wrongs (real or imagined) I feel people have done against me, live in my mind while I can’t respond to love for long. I can’t process it. This confession makes me feel like a cold monster. I know that’s not who I really am. But then again, who am I really? I’m a broken toy. A child whose lost his innocence. A person wandering the desert alone. Tormented by delusions and driven by nothing.

I want to start off today’s entry by recounting two dreams I recently had:

DREAM 1:

I was with Timbaland and TI. I don’t want to go into detail about what that dream involved but I found it very shocking. You know how Sigmund Frued said that dreams reveal our suppressed obssessions? Well, this dream sort of unveiled that.

DREAM 2:

I was in a waterpark with a Christian American couple and we were having fun…when I realized it was a week day and I’d forgotten to call the office and tell everyone I wanted to take take the day off. I was panicking and the American couple volunteered to drive me home or something and all of a sudden we were running up and down these twisting water slides (like the ones they have in the park, duh!). Along one of the bends I saw my old classmates from high school playing basketball. And then, as were ascending a particularly crazy loop I suddenly realized that I was dreaming and I should wake up. The weird part was, before I woke up, I was fully aware that it was a dream and that I’d never gone on AWOl before.

It sort of makes you wonder dosen’t it: why are dreams so illogical that recounting the details often end up embarrasing the person who dreamnt them? Nothing in dream symbolism seems to make much sense, it’s like a very randomly juxtaposed series of images or expreriences. I find it hard to fathom.

Anyways, I’m becoming interested in the language of dreams and it’s possible meanings: are certain dreams meant to warn us of a danger, or a unresolved conflict? Or ( and this interests me the most) are dreams mainly a releasing of our most suppressed fears and desires, like Sigmund Freud claimed?

To find out more, I’m planning to read more books on the psychological aspect of dreams, especially ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’.

To be fair, I don’t remember most of my dreams. Ninety nine percent of my dreams are garbage: meaningless, illogical babble that probably does not warrant much attention.

I have funny dreams and never have nightmares (almost never anways), though occasionally I have frightening dreams, thought they are very rare. The most common ‘upsetting’ dreams I have involve the realisation of an unacknowledged fear: like fear of being late for work, or fear or a dreaded occurence happening again. I remember after I finished high school, I’d have these dreams that I had to repeat my ‘O’ Levels because something happened to the original papers we sat for. I remember the horror I expreienced in that scenario. My heart pounded with the stress. The funny part is (I remember this distinctly) I was also expected to sit for a general science paper for the second exam (General Science is not offered under ‘O’ Levels). I was a pure arts student in senior year FIY.

Why the sudden obssession with dreams? Maybe it’s because I’m trying to figure out who I really am. Though I feel like I understand myself well, at the same time I feel like I don’t understand myself at all: I want to know who I really am. What I am capable of. What my limits are. What my strengths and hitherto undiscovered gifts are. I loved reading books like Robert Greene’s ‘48 Laws of Power’ and ‘The Art of Seduction’ not only for their intruiging historical anecdotes, but also for their insight into human nature and psychology. I learnt a lot from those two book, but perhaps not enough. One of the key points I understood from those books was the theory of the hidden personality: a part of our personality is hidden from other people. It’s a conscious decison we make ourselves. It prevents people from judging us or comprehensing who we really are, or what we are really capable of. The hidden personality is called ‘the ultimate unknowabelness of people’ or something like that. Rather profound. I know from experience that it is really true. Some people made some silly assumptions about me based on their own prejudices. It turned out to be so completely untrue. They were people so confident in their own judgement, they pronounced a verdict largely based on incomplete information. You see, I hid that part of myself, so they did not understand my stance regarding this particular matter (forgive me for being obtuse but I must protect my secrets).

Yes I have a lot of secrets. Perhaps too many. Maybe it’s foolish of me to hide what might end up saving me from myself.

Yes! I started working for a new company on March 9th.

I am now happily employed by IDEAL EDU, teaching English to Koreans. I left my job in Convergys in Febuary. Why did I leave my job in Convergys you may ask. Well, there were many reasons, the primary factor being I don’t think I’m really good at selling services. My job as inbound sales rep in Convergys was very stressful emotionally: I had difficulty pushing for sales so my stats were correspondingly low. Despite that, Convergys was willing to regularize me after the end of my probabtionary period, but I declined. I had been nursing a desire to teach English for a long time. I took a gamble and decided to resign so that I could pursue my new ‘dream’. To be honest, teaching English is hardly my deepest passion, but it’s fun and fulfilling. There is also the added incentive of being less stressful (not having to push for sales from irate customers) and besides I am better at teaching English. It fits my abilities better, to put it in another way. On the downside, the pay is much lower, but I am determined to adjust.

TRAINING: When I first entered IDEAL I was not particularly impressed by the facilities and decor. The lounge at the entrance is pretty fancy, but once you enter the main work area the aesthetics take a major downturn and you’ll be confronted by many derelict stations. Each is equipped with a computer. The place is poorly air conditioned and the carpet is peeling in many places. After the fanciness of Convergys, my new work environment was a major change for my luxury- hungry soul.

Oh yeah and the pay seriously sucks.

I haven’t made any real friends yet. The people are nice enough, but they seem pretty banal. Nobody seems interesting enough to get to know..oh except for this one guy named Nix. He’s really fuuny and nice, but he scares me a little. Mainly because he’s gay!

Oh yeah and my buddy was rather mean and difficult to get along with. You see, after you finish the training period, you are assigned a buddy. My buddy had a serious attitude problem. She was so moody half the time I had difficulty getting along with her.

I mean, I have scars of my own. For those of you too obtuse to know, the last couple of years have hardly been rosy. I’ve been through a lot of painful experiences. In short, it does not take a lot to open up my wounds. I’m like a volanoe ready to erupt if you apply the right amount of pressure. Add a little salt and my wounds will smart.

Enough about her…

Well, I’m enjoying my job. I guess that’s what’s most important right? So I just ignore the people all around me with their mindless emotional problems and neurotic disorders and I should be fine.

MY STUDENTS:

Ah, hear comes the juicy part. I like my students. Well, most of them anyway. Koreans are very timid on the phone, not like bold, sarcastic Americans. Most probably because they’re too self- conscious to really rant their feelings. Whatever. It’s the nature of the job, if you really analyse it. Teaching English does not raise the same flags customer service will do in a call center.

Anyway, let me describe in brief detail  some of my favorite students.

A) Ju Hyun: she’s a really smart and funny Korean woman who works in HR. I liked her immediately from the first day I thaught her. She’s really polite and very friendly, which comes across even over the phone. I tell her personal stuff I will not tell any of my other students (I try and forget the calls are recorded). She laughs a lot and shares a lot of interesting stuff about her life: like how she hates her manager, how much she loves drinking etc;  I can’t stand her ringtone though: it’s a duet from the movie ‘Music and Lyrics’ with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore.

B) Jae Hyun: He’s a really sweet fifteen year old boy. His voice always sounds hoarse, a permanent frog in the throat. He’s very quiet and will sometimes take an eternity to answer a simple question unless you help him. I like him a lot though. I feel compassion for him. (I’m starting to regard my students as my children). Like a father with a painfully shy son I emphatise with this kid.

C) Seong Ryeol and Ho Yeol: They are very bright middle school teenage boys. They laugh a lot and can speak very good English. In truth they speak much better English than their fathers (who work in Shinhan bank- Korea’s supposed second largest bank). I tutor their dads in the morning. I had a hard time trying to define the word ‘medicine’ to a forty year old bank manager. People who were listening to my call during that class could not stop laughing. Anyway, Seong Ryeol is always complaining to me about all the homework he is given everyday (about three tons) and Ho Yeol’s dad cut off the wires to the family televison because ‘he wanted his son to study more’. Koreans are OBSSESSED with education. The spoonfeeding, book learning kind. It’s like their national religion or something. As if the Asian economic crisis did not teach them the limits of education. I read once in TIME magazine that east Asia with their absolute quasi-religious faith in the power of education were really thrown off the boat after the asian economic crisis: for the first time, it became painfully apparent that having a degree from some fruity prestigious university did not gurantee a good job. Korean education (east asia in general), with it’s obssession with rote memory learning and the stifling of creativity, tends to create robots incapable of lateral thinking. I mean, I understand the importance of education, but studying for six hours a day after school is not going to gurantee anyone a bright future. Did Bill Gates and Beyonce Knowles graduate from Harvard after spending years preparing for some pointlessly difficult entrance exam? East asian education will prepare for a cubicle in an office, but not for a pioneering career that requires freedom to be creative.