"hallelujah!"
or so the saying goes.
over the years, i've heard a lot of dissent about christmas in the states; about how it's too capitalistic, too consumer-driven. as a culture, we've been bombarded with story upon story about the true meaning of christmas, which always, in the same trite manner, drills into our minds that we've completely missed the point.
and all this is true.
but now i just want to tell western culture and all the proverbial grinches of my generation to stop bitching.
as an american, the idea of a non-existent christmas has always been unfathomable to me. our entire culture embraces it. from christmas music, to holiday specials, to decorations anywhere and everywhere, to nativity displays, to christmas trees at the mall, to starbucks' red cups, american society whole-heartedly welcomes christmas. in fact, i like it, because, for a short time, everybody is happy. albeit more-than-usually stressed out, but exceptionally jovial.
cut to culture that barely acknowledges christmas' existence. the teachers at my school, in fact, all worked on christmas. we had the option of taking the day off because, from what they understand, christmas is sort of important to us. so we did. and they tried feebly to bring the christmas spirit into school, but nobody understood the decorations or the color schemes or the music or talk of searching for the true meaning or even WHERE SANTA CLAUS COMES FROM! december 25 passed by like any other day here. nobody stopped or said a prayer or took a moment to reflect. they just kept moving, leaving us foreigners paralyzed, immobile, completely destroyed by a holiday spirit famine. christmas was void of all the things that make it so wonderful back home. it's like i'd slept an entire month.
but at least i had the day off. i went to a christmas party with chris and some of his friends on christmas eve, where we played yankee swap with white elephant presents, read the nativity story, and sang christmas carols. and ate mongolian barbecue.
i read cards sent to me by my thoughtful friends back home. i don't think they realize how much a few words lifted my terribly downtrodden spirits here.
i opened presents from my family, full of scarves and gift cards and perfumes and DVD's with all my favorite tv shows, because the only thing for me to watch here is cnn, bbc, or movies with subtitles.
chris and i had a christmas breakfast and exchanged gifts. and while i don't think i'm any good at giving presents, he wasn't exaggerating when he said he was, as my jade bracelet is glorious.
i ate myself into a food coma with rachel and annie on christmas day. we shopped and talked about home and took pictures and soaked up what little holiday spirit could be derived from our environment.
so even if you think christmas is misunderstood, i can honestly testify that it is infinitely better than no christmas at all.
Friday, December 28, 2007
so famous, so famous.
"fame is the thirst of youth."
or so the saying goes.
i found out this week that i will be experiencing my SECOND television debut here in Taiwan. apparently, somebody's coming to film a story about our school, and thus, chris and my classes. i have to do a story time for all my kindergarteners and... oh yeah, taiwan.
good thing i've discovered that i'm a damn good story teller.
or so the saying goes.
i found out this week that i will be experiencing my SECOND television debut here in Taiwan. apparently, somebody's coming to film a story about our school, and thus, chris and my classes. i have to do a story time for all my kindergarteners and... oh yeah, taiwan.
good thing i've discovered that i'm a damn good story teller.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
對阿
"language shapes the way we think, and determines what we can think about."
or so the saying goes.
yes, i can now type chinese on my computer. how awesome is it, you ask? way awesome.
also, now i can finally share my chinese name, which means (respectively) wheat knowledge grace.
this is partially because it sounds like my real name and also, wheat is the color of my hair... and let's face it, i'm all about knowledge and grace.
麥喬茵
or so the saying goes.
yes, i can now type chinese on my computer. how awesome is it, you ask? way awesome.
also, now i can finally share my chinese name, which means (respectively) wheat knowledge grace.
this is partially because it sounds like my real name and also, wheat is the color of my hair... and let's face it, i'm all about knowledge and grace.
麥喬茵
Friday, December 14, 2007
我是 AWESOME
"i wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!"
or so the saying goes.
so tonight, after chinese class (which, surprisingly, i truly understood today), chris and i caught an opening night showing of will smith's new film "i am legend." despite spending most of my childhood afraid of my own shadow, i love me a good thriller-slash-horror film.
i was totally excited for this film, which is a lot like 28 days later, though not quite as scary, i think. 28 days later, the introduction to which i can thank the great film majors of chapman university, is among some of the few films i truly appreciate. this is partially because the cinematography is edgy and raw and exquisite. but also, the opening scenes depict perfectly the one thing i've always been most frightened of. it's as if someone opened up my brain, love for london and all, and chose to stream my thoughts on film!
it's deeply, beautifully, pit-of-your-soul terrifying.
the truth of the matter is, my deepest fear is the uncontrollable, inexplicable extinction of mankind. when i was a little girl, if my mom disappeared to do something unspeakable like take a shower, i would go into fierce panic attacks, which i could never quite explain. even then, i felt silly telling her that it was because, for a few minutes, i'd actually let myself believe that she'd disappeared and i'd never see her again. and not just that she'd disappeared, but that the rest of the world had disappeared with her, leaving me hopelessly, desperately alone. probably irrational, but true nonetheless. it's likely that this is why God didn't choose me for that whole great flood business, among other things, i'm sure.
when i lived in london, one of my favorite things to do was walk along the south bank. i liked that it allowed me the freedom to be. on a nice day, i also enjoyed crossing the bridge to parliament, just because everything was so lively, yet so separate. i liked that i could be disconnected and just observe, as in poe's "man of the crowd." it felt like i was dreaming, because i'd seen it so many times in the movies. it also had an uncanny ability to make me feel okay without the people i loved the most. i felt that i couldn't possibly be lonely; not here - it wasn't physically possible. i also replayed that scene in my head a few times, thinking about how frightening it would be if nobody were there with me. how desperate and unnatural it would all be if all signs of life were to suddenly disappear.
"i am legend" follows a similar plotline, with a sudden and incurable outbreak of a virus that destroys everything in its path. an abandoned new york is very much like an abandoned london, and people with this disease are not dissimilar to people with the "rage" virus. any way you toss the dice, it looks excruciating to be infected. the two biggest differences are that the infected in "i am legend" are extremely sensitive to uv rays and more importantly that, despite their aggressiveness, they're still capable of logic and, i suspect, affinity for and community with each other. it's a compelling twist to the world as we see it, as will smith's character is driven more and more deeply into hopelessness and frustration. his need for interaction slowly wears on him. i've always found the concepts of solitude and "othering" rather interesting. even when a person feels most misunderstood, it's almost unfathomable to exist without some sort of "presence." look at me; i barely understand chinese, but i'm strangely comforted by the mere fact that there are others around me here... that i will walk out my door and somebody will walk or drive by me. there's something that feels natural about presence. this is also probably why i don't understand atheism. it seems counterintuitive to die and be plunged into nothingness. we can't even handle nothingness here. if such a thing were true: if we really do die, only to see and feel nothing, then why bother with understanding or relationships here? if nothingness is where we came from and where we're going, being alone, experiencing and feeling nothing, would probably be the most natural feeling we could have. it's like reproduction... every being on earth figures it out because it's natural. if nothingness were the same, i don't think it would be so disconcerting. i think something would feel strangely right about it, not uncomfortable.
and as for "othering," i've always considered it interesting that "others" are simply that which the majority doesn't understand. usually, we understand this within the context of language, race, religion, sex, education, or sexual orientation. i've always appreciated how lost explores this idea: how the others are considered brutal because we, as an audience, don't understand them as well as the equally brutal survivors we meet in episode 1. and in terms of will smith, it's interesting how this turns in the film. how we empathize with him because we understand him, but how the film opens up the possibility that these logical and communal mutants see him as an "other." he captures them to find a cure, but all they see is him capturing them. he dwells in the light, something that seems crude and unnatural to their severely altered minds. i read in an article that this is a more profound theme in the original book, and i must admit that it intrigues me. the fluidity of what determines monstrous. evolution and destruction. majority and minority.
okay, so the zombies were cheesy and a bit cliche, but this is not what i find terrifying about films like "i am legend" or "28 days later." it still bothers me that they can run so fast and have so much strength. it also bothers me that they look like a less-refined version of lord voldemort, who is a lot like i'd always imagined satan; kind of charismatic and creepy, but very well-spoken and completely arrogant. it was like voldemort with rabies, which is never a good idea, because he'd have definitely avada kedavra'd that dog before it ever bit him. and the zombies in 28 days later are possibly worse with all their super speed, except they still look human.
what i do find interesting about the infected in both films is how painful the whole process looks. there's one scene in particular, as they're quarantining new york city, when a woman begs will smith to take her baby and save them. she claims that she's not infected and she needs someone to help her child. and he pauses for a second to look at her, because he wants so badly, as he says, to fix it. he keeps saying over and over that he won't let this happen. and though she's pitiful and sincere, you see plainly that she's completely infected. her hair has fallen out, she's pasty, and she's bleeding from every orifice on her face. and she's still holding her child. yikes. and the sad thing is that it pales in comparison to how painful the whole "rage" disease seems, with all the incessant vomiting of blood. i can't handle vomiting the plain way, much less projectile blood vomit.
i'll admit, i often find films like this difficult to watch, not because of the shocks and the twists, but because of the advances we're making in genetics, bio-terrorism, and warfare. fighting no longer means meeting each other on a battlefield, or blowing each other to smithereens. it's about dismantling. disarming. breaking morale. working from long distances. being silent until it's time to hit them hard. and as the souls of this generation and the ones to follow slowly disintegrate, things like this worry me, not because of what science can do, but of what truly, deeply evil people can do. we live in a world that is, on all levels, falling away from direct human interaction. the battles we fight aren't face-to-face anymore. how long until we've become so desensitized that fighting for a cause or a country means opening a vial?
wow, this was long. moral of the story: i don't like desolation, but i really, really like will smith. and london.
or so the saying goes.
so tonight, after chinese class (which, surprisingly, i truly understood today), chris and i caught an opening night showing of will smith's new film "i am legend." despite spending most of my childhood afraid of my own shadow, i love me a good thriller-slash-horror film.
i was totally excited for this film, which is a lot like 28 days later, though not quite as scary, i think. 28 days later, the introduction to which i can thank the great film majors of chapman university, is among some of the few films i truly appreciate. this is partially because the cinematography is edgy and raw and exquisite. but also, the opening scenes depict perfectly the one thing i've always been most frightened of. it's as if someone opened up my brain, love for london and all, and chose to stream my thoughts on film!
it's deeply, beautifully, pit-of-your-soul terrifying.
the truth of the matter is, my deepest fear is the uncontrollable, inexplicable extinction of mankind. when i was a little girl, if my mom disappeared to do something unspeakable like take a shower, i would go into fierce panic attacks, which i could never quite explain. even then, i felt silly telling her that it was because, for a few minutes, i'd actually let myself believe that she'd disappeared and i'd never see her again. and not just that she'd disappeared, but that the rest of the world had disappeared with her, leaving me hopelessly, desperately alone. probably irrational, but true nonetheless. it's likely that this is why God didn't choose me for that whole great flood business, among other things, i'm sure.
when i lived in london, one of my favorite things to do was walk along the south bank. i liked that it allowed me the freedom to be. on a nice day, i also enjoyed crossing the bridge to parliament, just because everything was so lively, yet so separate. i liked that i could be disconnected and just observe, as in poe's "man of the crowd." it felt like i was dreaming, because i'd seen it so many times in the movies. it also had an uncanny ability to make me feel okay without the people i loved the most. i felt that i couldn't possibly be lonely; not here - it wasn't physically possible. i also replayed that scene in my head a few times, thinking about how frightening it would be if nobody were there with me. how desperate and unnatural it would all be if all signs of life were to suddenly disappear.
"i am legend" follows a similar plotline, with a sudden and incurable outbreak of a virus that destroys everything in its path. an abandoned new york is very much like an abandoned london, and people with this disease are not dissimilar to people with the "rage" virus. any way you toss the dice, it looks excruciating to be infected. the two biggest differences are that the infected in "i am legend" are extremely sensitive to uv rays and more importantly that, despite their aggressiveness, they're still capable of logic and, i suspect, affinity for and community with each other. it's a compelling twist to the world as we see it, as will smith's character is driven more and more deeply into hopelessness and frustration. his need for interaction slowly wears on him. i've always found the concepts of solitude and "othering" rather interesting. even when a person feels most misunderstood, it's almost unfathomable to exist without some sort of "presence." look at me; i barely understand chinese, but i'm strangely comforted by the mere fact that there are others around me here... that i will walk out my door and somebody will walk or drive by me. there's something that feels natural about presence. this is also probably why i don't understand atheism. it seems counterintuitive to die and be plunged into nothingness. we can't even handle nothingness here. if such a thing were true: if we really do die, only to see and feel nothing, then why bother with understanding or relationships here? if nothingness is where we came from and where we're going, being alone, experiencing and feeling nothing, would probably be the most natural feeling we could have. it's like reproduction... every being on earth figures it out because it's natural. if nothingness were the same, i don't think it would be so disconcerting. i think something would feel strangely right about it, not uncomfortable.
and as for "othering," i've always considered it interesting that "others" are simply that which the majority doesn't understand. usually, we understand this within the context of language, race, religion, sex, education, or sexual orientation. i've always appreciated how lost explores this idea: how the others are considered brutal because we, as an audience, don't understand them as well as the equally brutal survivors we meet in episode 1. and in terms of will smith, it's interesting how this turns in the film. how we empathize with him because we understand him, but how the film opens up the possibility that these logical and communal mutants see him as an "other." he captures them to find a cure, but all they see is him capturing them. he dwells in the light, something that seems crude and unnatural to their severely altered minds. i read in an article that this is a more profound theme in the original book, and i must admit that it intrigues me. the fluidity of what determines monstrous. evolution and destruction. majority and minority.
okay, so the zombies were cheesy and a bit cliche, but this is not what i find terrifying about films like "i am legend" or "28 days later." it still bothers me that they can run so fast and have so much strength. it also bothers me that they look like a less-refined version of lord voldemort, who is a lot like i'd always imagined satan; kind of charismatic and creepy, but very well-spoken and completely arrogant. it was like voldemort with rabies, which is never a good idea, because he'd have definitely avada kedavra'd that dog before it ever bit him. and the zombies in 28 days later are possibly worse with all their super speed, except they still look human.
what i do find interesting about the infected in both films is how painful the whole process looks. there's one scene in particular, as they're quarantining new york city, when a woman begs will smith to take her baby and save them. she claims that she's not infected and she needs someone to help her child. and he pauses for a second to look at her, because he wants so badly, as he says, to fix it. he keeps saying over and over that he won't let this happen. and though she's pitiful and sincere, you see plainly that she's completely infected. her hair has fallen out, she's pasty, and she's bleeding from every orifice on her face. and she's still holding her child. yikes. and the sad thing is that it pales in comparison to how painful the whole "rage" disease seems, with all the incessant vomiting of blood. i can't handle vomiting the plain way, much less projectile blood vomit.
i'll admit, i often find films like this difficult to watch, not because of the shocks and the twists, but because of the advances we're making in genetics, bio-terrorism, and warfare. fighting no longer means meeting each other on a battlefield, or blowing each other to smithereens. it's about dismantling. disarming. breaking morale. working from long distances. being silent until it's time to hit them hard. and as the souls of this generation and the ones to follow slowly disintegrate, things like this worry me, not because of what science can do, but of what truly, deeply evil people can do. we live in a world that is, on all levels, falling away from direct human interaction. the battles we fight aren't face-to-face anymore. how long until we've become so desensitized that fighting for a cause or a country means opening a vial?
wow, this was long. moral of the story: i don't like desolation, but i really, really like will smith. and london.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
yes, it's finally happened
"rest in peace."
or so the saying goes.
i'm pretty sure that after almost 3 years of faithful service, my ipod is now dead. i knew it was coming, but i still maintain that it was too young to die.
may it rest in peace.
or so the saying goes.
i'm pretty sure that after almost 3 years of faithful service, my ipod is now dead. i knew it was coming, but i still maintain that it was too young to die.
may it rest in peace.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
every day, i die a little more
"always be a first-rate version of yourself instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."
or so the saying goes.
or maybe i just get a little closer to confirming the plain fact that i, indeed, have no dignity.
we're learning christmas songs at school, which is glorious because christmas is glorious and my kids are glorious. you put both together, and you can only get good things. savvy?
i've never considered myself to be much of a dancer. but for some reason, any insecurities that i might have or that, in fact, i do have in the real world, somehow, miraculously, don't matter within the confines of usas.
somehow, i managed to pull off singing 2 versions of jingle bells and jingle bell rock with my kids. it's redundant, much, but i certainly didn't plan it that way. we're practicing for the school-wide celebration, and also taking a little time out of our overly-serious lives to be ridiculous. or at least that's how i like to see it. k1 has it all down. their version of jingle bells is funny and sweet and innocent. they kind of know the words and kind of don't. and they don't have the capacity to sing with any sort of tune, so they shout something that sounds like the words and the proper rhythm. sometimes they even cover their own ears because it's so dissonant. but i have to admire their spirit.
as some of you know, my g3 class and i are up and down. for about a month, however, we've been at peace. i'm hoping it lasts. some days, the chinese teachers ask me how i manage them and don't hate them all; they're loud and fierce and competitive and have no shame whatsoever.
and they're amazing, did i mention that? mostly, they make me laugh. i've instituted a system of checks and x's for them. as one so eloquently put:
me: who remembers how the x's and checks work?
him: if you have many checks, you can get cool points. 1 x means cannot play the game, 2 x's means cannot play dodgeball, 3 x's means writing, 4 x's, i don't know, and 5 x's you probably have to stay all night.
this seems to work, because the world just might fall to pieces without dodgeball.
they're singing jingle bell rock, the words to which they picked up instantly. our actions are absurd, but they pull it off because they're incredibly spirited. they have a bit of a pyramid situation going on, with the most outgoing students in the front and the least in the back; not because i organized it this way, but because that's how they fall naturally. it looks surprisingly cool and the whole act is almost like a mock show tune. but they can hear us downstairs and the chinese teachers kept peeping in to have a look (and telling me they think it's hilarious), so we must be doing something all right. i feel silly, because i look silly, but they're my favorite act.
and i've re-inherited g5. we have a lot of fun, and we choreographed a far more complicated version of jingle bells, with switching and twirling and swinging, oh my! they're fun, and ever-so-easy to teach, because i don't have to worry so much about what they do and don't understand. i told them that they have to show some spirit. at least more spirit than g4 and g6. consequently, this means that i, too, have to be spirited if i want any kind of result. and in this case, who needs aerobics? i'm jumping and twirling and yelling and dancing just to get them to loosen up.
no dignity, whatsoever.
or so the saying goes.
or maybe i just get a little closer to confirming the plain fact that i, indeed, have no dignity.
we're learning christmas songs at school, which is glorious because christmas is glorious and my kids are glorious. you put both together, and you can only get good things. savvy?
i've never considered myself to be much of a dancer. but for some reason, any insecurities that i might have or that, in fact, i do have in the real world, somehow, miraculously, don't matter within the confines of usas.
somehow, i managed to pull off singing 2 versions of jingle bells and jingle bell rock with my kids. it's redundant, much, but i certainly didn't plan it that way. we're practicing for the school-wide celebration, and also taking a little time out of our overly-serious lives to be ridiculous. or at least that's how i like to see it. k1 has it all down. their version of jingle bells is funny and sweet and innocent. they kind of know the words and kind of don't. and they don't have the capacity to sing with any sort of tune, so they shout something that sounds like the words and the proper rhythm. sometimes they even cover their own ears because it's so dissonant. but i have to admire their spirit.
as some of you know, my g3 class and i are up and down. for about a month, however, we've been at peace. i'm hoping it lasts. some days, the chinese teachers ask me how i manage them and don't hate them all; they're loud and fierce and competitive and have no shame whatsoever.
and they're amazing, did i mention that? mostly, they make me laugh. i've instituted a system of checks and x's for them. as one so eloquently put:
me: who remembers how the x's and checks work?
him: if you have many checks, you can get cool points. 1 x means cannot play the game, 2 x's means cannot play dodgeball, 3 x's means writing, 4 x's, i don't know, and 5 x's you probably have to stay all night.
this seems to work, because the world just might fall to pieces without dodgeball.
they're singing jingle bell rock, the words to which they picked up instantly. our actions are absurd, but they pull it off because they're incredibly spirited. they have a bit of a pyramid situation going on, with the most outgoing students in the front and the least in the back; not because i organized it this way, but because that's how they fall naturally. it looks surprisingly cool and the whole act is almost like a mock show tune. but they can hear us downstairs and the chinese teachers kept peeping in to have a look (and telling me they think it's hilarious), so we must be doing something all right. i feel silly, because i look silly, but they're my favorite act.
and i've re-inherited g5. we have a lot of fun, and we choreographed a far more complicated version of jingle bells, with switching and twirling and swinging, oh my! they're fun, and ever-so-easy to teach, because i don't have to worry so much about what they do and don't understand. i told them that they have to show some spirit. at least more spirit than g4 and g6. consequently, this means that i, too, have to be spirited if i want any kind of result. and in this case, who needs aerobics? i'm jumping and twirling and yelling and dancing just to get them to loosen up.
no dignity, whatsoever.
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