Chapter 32

One month down, eleven to go. I didn’t wait for the fireworks parade and got up before dawn to go ride my bicycle in the misty rain, all the way to the driving examination center.

And I failed. Again.

It sure didn’t help that they changed the exam format, removing the two small round mirrors that were previously on each corner of the hood, allowing the driver to see his wheels. A new policy enacted on February 1^st. So as I was there an hour before they opened, I was the very first lucky derp to do the exam like that, after practicing the whole time with the mirrors on and relying on them to gauge distance, as instructed.

Christ, what is wrong with my pathetic husk of a life, if I can’t even pass the goddamn driving test?! In the country with the most inept drivers on the face of the planet? As I was brooding over my abject failure as a human, on the ride home, some worthless waste of macromolecules in a white BMW abruptly cut across the bike lane, almost ramming into an electric scooter. The poor lady swerved hard to avoid the fucknugget, wobbled back and forth, and extended her legs to regain her balance. Yet he has a license, and I don’t?

No, no, NO!!! I slapped myself up my bicycle helmet. That’s not the attitude to have. Excuses are for perpetual losers, and so is that toxic sense of entitlement and superiority. And yeah, I could cope by telling myself it’s just a setback and I’ll laugh about it the rest of my life, recalling how much of a derptard I was for not being able to park between the lines. Yet I was still overwhelmed by a horribly depressing feeling of ineptitude, a sense of wasting my time, and also stress, wondering if I can in fact pass that stupid but incredibly nitpicky test. But I have to channel my inner Jocko Willink (as his podcast was playing in my earbuds) and apply complete ownership of the situation, and how I only have my arrogance and lack of focus to blame.

The remainder of my morning wasn’t jolly, even with the girlfriend trying to console me. I caught the second half of the Metal Minded podcast, they were interviewing a death metal vocalist named Sébastien Croteau who has been branching out and uses his rather niche vocal abilities to do voice acting for monsters in videogames. Then I ate the last of the spaghetti from two days ago, as I watched the deep geopolitical analysis of 7 Jours Sur Terre. They were talking about Russian dissident Alexey Navalny, the oil pipelines from Alberta to and through the USA about to cease operations under a Biden administration and the ramifications for the oil-dependent economy of that province, and the main story was about the rise of mercenaries and what they euphemistically call “Private Security Firms”. Then I took a little nap to catch up on my interrupted night, but couldn’t sleep, as is always the case when I got too much shit on my mind.

A feeling of depression sure isn’t fun, but aside from taking ownership of the situation, where can I go from there? I can always focus on the bright side of life, I told myself as I was lying in bed with the dog curled up against me, comforted by his impossibly soft and warm coat of fur, amused by the cute little snoring and sniffling sounds he’d emit from time to time, and humbled by all the love in his tiny heart.

For sure, life doesn’t suck as hard as that morning’s blunder would lead me to believe. I have a loving girlfriend. I have a nice social circle. My finances are in order and I’ve been putting quite a bit of money aside while still indulging in my hobbies. I’m in good health. I enjoy being a high school teacher. All that. But I also know that from experience, to get myself out of that depressive rut I have to do things that rebalance my brain chemistry while avoiding things that further plunge me towards rock bottom. Which means less instant gratification, and more self-improvement, not just for self-improvement’s sake (which is intrinsically nice of course) but because I never fail to feel better, psychologically and physiologically, during and after upping a skill or reading or working out rather than playing videogames or masturbating or eating a disgusting pile of junk food that might have tasted good for all of 15 seconds. The young me thought it was about pride versus guilt, and taking one’s mind off things rather than idling, but no, there’s some biochemical shit at play too, dopamine and serotonin and endorphins and all that, I forgot the difference but it’s neither here nor there.

First step, bring my ass to the climbing wall, after a little walk with the doggo. Along the way, on that still misty and miserable grey day, I thought about other ways I could self-improve. Sure, I could ramp up the working out but I feel like I’m quite active as it is, and same with my general life hygiene and diet, yeah I don’t eat 100% clean and tend to overeat but I’m mostly happy with what I got, and want to keep it sustainable. The drinking will naturally drop back down to pre-holiday levels and I’ll start going to bed early and getting up early again. I already read a lot and don’t consume that much junktertainment. I didn’t miss a day in my diary. Then it hit me, it was right there the whole time: start studying Chinese again. I’ve had a love-hate affair with that monstrous but fascinating language ever since I relocated here, and got to a high level but there’s still a lot of room for improvement. I had been studying in December, as I was preparing for the theoretical driving exam, and then stopped after passing it, so now is as good of a time as any. Let’s start by doing five sessions a week throughout February, using ChinesePod audio lessons, the various half-used textbooks I have dragged around over the years, and generally just looking up words that I encounter from whatever source. Every session I’ll fill up 3/4 of a page in an A4 sized notebook, using the remaining 1/4 for review of the previous vocab storm.

Another writing project I have, aside from http://quesstuvascrisserla.com/, is a yet-to-be-published series of ebooks about travel, in a long form narrative format. I’ve already written one about a trip to Africa, and am maybe a third of the way into my trip from Australia to Canada across various Pacific islands. While I’m on vacation and looking for something semi-productive, might as well commit to add another 2500 words per week.

As I parked my bicycle and walked in the shopping mall, I also told myself I wouldn’t vent to my climbing partners, and generally strive to be a more positive person. They don’t want to hear my shit, I’ll keep the brooding for this diary. So we talked about other topics, and focused on doing some good ascents. My baby steps are tiny but still moving forward, that route number 3 that I couldn’t complete the first time I went now feels a bit too easy, and on the one after that I broke my record and went up a few pegs compared to last week. That felt very good.

I made it home and wrote this while listening to two great new death metal releases by Altered Dead and Undeath. I also played the album Cosmic World Mother by a band called ...And Oceans, whom I’ve known way back in the day when I started listening to extreme music, they were playing some experimental black metal with industrial touches, but that 2020 album is pure relentless melodic black metal and has been very well received by the long-haired masses. I did my Chinese stuff, a lesson by ChinesePod with the Shanghai World Expo as the main topic, reading and listening to the dialogue and vocabulary explanation, copying the new or unfamiliar characters in my notebook.

I ate leftover sushi, leftover Japanese seafood pancake and steamed broccoli, with a Qingdao beer, while watching a video about geography and interesting maps on YouTube. Then I put on a mixtape compilation of underground French rap while I wrote more, and went to bed early with the Kindle and a glass of whiskey. Tomorrow is another day.