On (lengthy) Nonsequiters

On Wellbeing:
Surprise: not taking the double-double dose of anti-parasitics makes it a lot easier to feel a lot less bad

On Being Twelve:
In six weeks of Mattayom 1, I've covered, "What is your name? How are you today? What is your number? How old are you? Where do you live? Where were you born?" and the appropriate responses.  I've given up on actual teaching--instilling comprehension and application of concepts--and run the class as the students are accustomed to learning--write a dialogue on the board (what is your name? My name is Bam), read through it, copy it in the notebook, practice with a partner, move on. 
Just to say, it pains me to see how little was covered over so much time.
To keep myself engaged and break the students from the slack-jawed drawl of a full-class response, I turned each Q&A into a rhythmic chant with clapping.  First we modulate through the possible beat patterns--what is yourname, what isyour name, whatis your name--and then, for the dialogue part, I create an echo with each having its own rhythm.  "What isyour name, my nameis Bam. Howold are you, Iam twelve years old. How are youtoday, I am happy." 
We meet once a week and there's not really any way to give or moderate homework, so I tell myself that I'm doing as much as I can to prepare the students to one day not shout, "UH!UH!YOUYOUYOU!" at a farang.  Maybe, in the dozens of times we've practiced chanting and then speaking a given line, some part of it will stick. 
And then test time comes and I'm asking the students one-on-one questions and a sizable percentage absolutely flatline when I say, "What is your name?" 
It's a challenge not to take it personally.

On Music
Scene: there are 800 kids and a few dozen faculty members at morning assembly, staring at me as the speakers that are roughly the size of an elephant's head blast my voice as I wave my hands and sing "One little, two little, three little fingers," trying to get something from the kids and ignore the stares from the faculty.  Up is easy--it ends with "Ten fingers on my hands!"
It's saying something for the power of music that I ended up having so much fun I just about dropped a load on the way down when I got to the bottom and... uh... well... "One finger on my hand!"
What's really fun, though, is singing "Apples and Bananas" with my G4 kids.  Until I'm wrapping up for the evening and brushing my teeth, then breeshing my teeth, then brushing my tuth....

On Survival
I've hit a point where my goal is to live and let live.  I have learned to appreciate having the wellbeing to get all the way through the day without collapsing or breaking down, to rejoice in the days that pass without much threat thereof, and to concentrate my energies on moving forward with the greatest possible good.  There are times it's much, much more challenging to do so, but even then, when I realize that I'm walking around in a foul mood and hating the world because that is the true and natural state of things, it's a helluva lot easier to walk around after I regroup, remind myself that it's only my perception and focus that's allowing the world to be a cesspool, and if I pull my focus away from the glop in the open sewer-gutter-industrial waste drain, there are bushes and trees erupting with flowers you see in fantasy cartoons, except now I get to smell them, or, in some cases, eat them as tempura.  And sometimes, if I'm lucky, alongside some pretty killer seafood or pig whatnots.  And if I'm feeling really gumptious, when someone cackles "HARRYPOTTY!" I'll just stop, look at him, smile, hope him relief or resolution from whatever's pushing him, and 98% of the time, he gets embarrassed, quiets down, and tries to talk with me.
This is how I've learned to survive.  As the combination of unpleasant factors has coupled with the necessity and challenges of living, it's how I've been able to get from start to finish with the least effort and disruption and occasional bit of leftover reserve. 
//
A word on the multioscopy: after three days of soft food and one day of no food coupled with regular bouts of explosive diarrhea, there was very, very little left in the system when it came time for the turbo-lax with a gallon of water for a chaser. 
I read through the magazines I'd brought within the first two rounds, but I had the good fortune to be in a room serviced by the BDK--the Japanese Buddhist equivalent of the Gideons.  It was good company over the next dozens of rounds--600 pages of anecdotes and proverbs with bits of contextualization and explanation, mainly focusing on how to keep the mind in check and lead a good life.  "To avoid any evil, to seek the good, to keep the mind pure: this is the essence of Buddha's teaching."
What wierds me out is that, by the morning, I realized that I've become a Buddhist. 
Who wears a stone cross. 
And misses church.
Welcome to Thailand?