Hey guys, how is life treating you all? I have spent the last few days pent up in a room, reading voraciously out of boredom and desperation. And it is a truth universally acknowledged that what comes in must go out. So please sit down, relax and enjoy my rant, oh and grab some popcorn while you can. This is gonna be long and it gets worse but I promise this isn't all about Jane Austen and toilet humour. First of all, I think this place is now a dump, truth be told. But I don't regret the time spent here, for once, it was much more productive than that year I spent grinding epics. Having said that, pertaining to the state of this box, I think it is prime time for it to receive the biggest dump of its time. I think this box is the perfect place for me to vent as it provides a desirable level of discretion and some of you know me so it won't be like talking to a wall. So here is all of my baggage. Things shouldn't go out with a whimper, should they? Now, most of you are aware that I (rather abruptly) came back to Vietnam over a year ago. However, the reason for the decision escaped several of you and perturbed some other. No, I wasn't deported, thank you very much, that was kind of you to wonder. I got my post graduate permit and worked there for three years. Then I was in the middle of a crossroad having to decide which route to take. A clear objective would be apply for permanent residency and after two years take the exam and obtain the much coveted citizenship. But then I decided not to, and the reason is two-fold. For one, I was getting depressed in that town. Everything was monotonous, same job, same apartment, same bus and train every day. It surely didn't help that 2013 and 2014 happened to have the two coldest winters in the last few decades back to back. Communication was cut off as half the city lost power, transportation was grinding to a halt because of snow, sleet and black ice. I was half dead inside sitting in my room, trying to let go of my past, looking out the window only to find the somber sky with some gaunt, listless trees on a sea of white and realize that the future is a grayscale wasteland and all the artificially radiant lighting that is ever going to grace my presence depends on someone else to arrive and clear the snow, break the ice and fix the power line. It took weeks for everything to go back to normal and I loathed every second of that three-hour commute that I had to take to go to work over that period. The second, more important reason is because of the state of my family at the time. I was never particularly close to mine, especially my father, a sad thing to admit; if back in 2013, for some reason, we could meet randomly on the street, I wouldn't have recognized him. He got diabetes, lost lot of weight and I had not seen him in years. My mom was constantly crying on Skype talking about how temperamental and domineering he had become. I felt deeply responsible, for some incomprehensible reason, for all of this. That was enough for me to make up my mind and pack my things. Canada was an exceptional country but it wasn't for me (Harper didn't help, fuck that philistine and his sand oil pits). I planned everything so that my best friend would be in town on a trip to hang out. I haven't seen him in 5 years and it was like we have never separated. I so dearly wish we could make friends just as easily and naturally as when we were twelve; sadly nobody can, but I digress. On my first night out, my dad lent me his spare phone because I didn't have one that could work here. While having the time of my life with my buddy and his wife, reacquainting myself with this country I call my birthplace, a text came that changed everything, as well as, cleared up so many questions I have had. To better understand the situation, perhaps you need to know what kind of a person my father is. I have never had any respect for the man, keep in mind that I am saying this after years of reflection, self-doubt and vindication. Perhaps I have felt some, way back when he could beat me at chess or tic tac toe consistently but I was five or six then. I have felt not a shade of regret regarding this ever since I got mature enough to form my own opinion of others. He has his positive traits but I would mostly describe him as tyrannical, obstinate, and worst of all, manipulative. The kind of person who would tell you that anyone but himself will go out of their way to hurt you and your family and that you would all be lost and pathetic without him. In short, my dad was a pig, a manipulating, cheating pig. And believe it or not, statistically, the majority of cheating occurs when the wife is pregnant. Most men would find it more convenient to find release from someone other than the fat, annoyingly sensitive slob drenched in hormonal juices at home. My dad wasn't like most men. In that he didn't just cheat while my mom was pregnant. He cheated while I was in secondary school, while my maternal grandfather was in his dead bed because of cancer, he most likely cheated while I was abroad. And the text I received confirmed that he was cheating well into his retirement. I still have that text ingrained in my mind but I will spare the details. I wanted to confront him that night, to talk about all the things he had wronged us, all the bullshit he had been spewing out of his mouth about family values and his legacy and especially the gaping pit of self-contempt he had left my mom in. But my friend stopped me. He had been in a similar situation. He told me nothing good would come out of it; asked me to delete the text, and to let my parents sort things out. I acquiesced. Over the next few weeks it became apparent that I was not the only one aware of my father's infidelity. My parents stopped talking. I became the redundant messenger that was somehow absolutely needed to pass a message over the distance of half the living room. I could have done something, could have talked to them, could have been the son who brought everything back to normal but no, I gave up, moved away. And we just stopped being a family ever since. And now is the time to apologize to AVAVT, I shouldn't have taken the job. I took it out of convenience and complacency. I took advantage of the position as I needed a way out of my parents'. I am still ashamed of the work I did then, if you could even call it work. I so drearily hope that the post about someone borrowing money from you without paying back in here wasn't about me. I believe I have paid back everything. And it was some next level of passive aggression if you posted it here to complain about a guy literally sharing an apartment with you. Anyhow, thank you for the time and sorry I was a failure. But that was last year, I left Saigon soon after. I went to Hanoi alone, after ten years, not much has changed. It is easy to build skyscrapers, highways, bridges but all the money in the world cannot change a shitty lie. I don't like the infrastructure, I don't like the weather, I don't like the culture or more precisely its lack thereof. It hurts me deeply that my childhood memories full of wonders and wishful thinking were gone and in their stead, a dusty, phony and uncharacteristic concrete jungle. And worst of all, I couldn't find a single pill of xanax to save my life there. What kind of town has overflowing ketamine but no xanax whatsoever? Bullshit. I got introduced to a few girls, I liked some of them but couldn't commit. Maybe I am afraid I will turn into my dad and die alone, or maybe I am just a coward who can't let bygone be bygone. I do not know. What I do know is the fact that I hate it when people say my problem is I am too honest. Fuck that. Call me a klutz, tell me I lack tacts, have no finesse or just simple a fucking unwashed troglodyte, I wouldn't even bat an eye. But don't call someone you barely know too honest, like what does it say about you who think honesty is a negative trait? And there is a lesson for you all, there are only two types of people in this world, those who lie and those who lie well. Anyway, the only good thing that came out of my time there was a decent job and the discovery of my love for riding. I have always had a fascination for speed but riding just clears my mind. I was starting to feel better traveling around on my Fz but then my mom called and told me of her biggest fuck up yet; and somehow it has become my job to fix this mess. I don't want to go into details lest all my bitching turns me into the antagonist of my own story; but she is losing us hundreds of thousands of dollars. So I am losing faith in both my parents. I think my family is unsalvageable. I barely sleep anymore, withdrawal is fucking gut-wrenching; I feel like I am losing weight by the hour. I am leaving Vietnam, for a few months to help out my mom, hopefully for the last time. Maybe I will take a trip to get rid of this weird feeling of being trapped but then it will just feel like I am wandering around with no aim instead. Maybe I will just deal with this melancholy the best way I know how; to blow my hard earned money on something I absolutely don't need like a Master of Education degree. I don't feel like there is much point staying here in the long term anymore. Wish me luck on my pedagogical endeavour guys. It feels so much better to get things off my chest. So long, and thanks for all the fish. P.S. I deleted a bunch of the spam posts, this box is way overdue for a spring cleaning so enjoy this cleaned up wonderland while it lasts. If I have deleted something important you posted by mistake, sue me.