do (or try to do) something good every day.

or so the slogan at starbucks has been (mostly) telling me for a while now.

first, happy er-er-ba. last year at this time, i was buying pearls. and celebrating taiwanese progression. but mostly buying pearls. that was a good day.

a few things of note. i'm observing lent this year. i'm not catholic, but i think it's important to meditate on and then fast the things that we rely on too much. it's easy to be obstructed, or jaded, or complacent because we simply have more than we need. i seriously considered giving up three things this year: alcohol, facebook, and the office. alcohol, i felt, was really too simple. i hardly drink while i'm home, and by the time i get back to prague where i have a beer or so each day, lent will mostly be over. besides, those jews knew how to party back in the day. have you heard of those week-long weddings? not that this has much to do with catholicism in the 21st century, but if the question is WWJD, Jesus would have a beer. facebook was a possibility, but something that i consider a part of my everyday routine, and really, i tend to use it for good designs rather than evil ones. not that i have evil designs. much. and the office, well, i'm looking to rejuvenate some faithfulness, not immerse myself in misery. so facebook, it was. and despite how many times i tried to justify not giving up facebook to myself, i realized that i spend far too much time that could be devoted to something else. maybe to prayer, or to fasting, or to devotionals or study, but i'm not going to pretend that that's entirely what i had in mind. that's part of it, but the reality is that i was created for something purposeful and given far more opportunities to achieve it than most, and i don't think my purpose includes how much time i spend on facebook. surely, it includes other things, whatever they may be, and it's time to dwell on/search for those things. besides, the narcissism was getting overbearing. (narcissistic? me?)



as part of my attempt at more thoughtful and productive living, this week, i decided to donate blood. this was my first time, i've always wanted to, and i, quite literally, had nothing to do. i'd meant to ask my mom for the car, but i slept through my alarm and whatnot. so i donned some walking clothes and hiked the mile or two to my local target shopping center to find the blood mobile. even better than target, it was right in front of (and sponsored by) a starbucks. this made the whole waiting experience significantly more fun, since the good old american red cross was very backed up with donors that afternoon. but again, seriously, nothing better to do. after a latte or two and talking to the volunteers, i was led into the bus, the temperature in which, by the way, was commensurate with being on the surface of the sun, not in california in february. after rehashing all the places i'd been this past year, particularly where, EXACTLY, i went in china, they concluded that i probably didn't have malaria. i was then laid on a bed across from other horizontal people who were uncomfortably staring out windows or texting. to make the whole thing a little more pleasant, they gave us all starbucks vouchers, which i fully intended to use on the most expensive drink i could feasibly finish without gagging. this really doesn't go beyond a venti nonfat caramel macchiato with an extra shot, which isn't even that exciting. after the usual pleasantries (are there usual pleasantries in this kind of situation?), the nurse began the drawing procedure. She told me to squeeze a a stress ball, and that i would feel a pinch and a little pain. unfortunately, i felt more than a pinch and the pain didn't subside. and then i heard a "oh, that's not good," which is truly the last thing you ever want to hear when someone's sticking something into your body. or cutting something off. 12 and one, really. i subtly writhed for about a minute, when she told me that it wasn't going to work, and if we kept trying, i would have a massive bruise covering my entire arm. is seems that, when she was trying to put the needle into my vein, it compressed, and the needle went straight through and pierced the other side. by the time she'd corrected it, there was a second hole and bleeding on the tissue in my arm. a lot. within a few more minutes, the needle was out, and she was holding bandages and a cold pack on my arm. they made me sit there for another 20 minutes eating food and drinking juice because passing out was a possibility, and then i walked home again.

and it seems i somehow left that free starbucks voucher there.

more than 24 hours later, my arm now looks like this:

don't let it fool you. it hurts like hell. i can't actually fully straighten it.

i suppose that i should do something that risks less bodily injury the next time i do something good.
not that giving blood is risking much. i don't even mind needles! ask my 8 piercings! that with the 2 days of IV... man, i thought it was made for stuff like this.

the saga of my tortured relationship with london, part 542.

i'm good at traveling. yes, i know that this can mean a lot of things, but i've practiced and failed and learned... and in all, i feel that i can actually say i'm an accomplished, savvy traveler. even though my semester abroad was simply wrought with bad luck, the past few years abroad have gone by with little trouble at all. and in the course of all this, i've spent the majority of my time in very foreign cultures, all of which don't speak english. amazingly, my competence has helped produce some enjoyable and fun travel experiences in these places and little tragedy. sure, i crashed a scooter into a parked van in bali. and there was my pengyou that drove me to the great wall in china. he didn't speak any english, but damn did we have fun! and i'm not sure how safe that bus ride out of st. petersburg was, but you know... makes you stronger, they say.

yet london - damn you, london - somehow manages to twist fate, worldliness, and general dignity into something truly dreadful for me. everything i've learned gets whittled down into borderline incompetence while i'm there.

he told me that i was going to regret monday night when i had to fly into the london the next day, but i brushed it off. i was having way too much fun. and everything went mostly well in london, but it seems that the unlikelihood - nay - the more convenient something is, the more likely am to mess it up. it's generally small things like: trying to wire money to my roommates. or the automated machine in the tube eating my 10 quid for no apparent reason.

or the best of all - missing my trans-atlantic flight from terminal 5. granted, people, this is not due to the usual reasons one would miss a flight: irresponsibility. misreading the ticket. traffic. no, my friends, i missed a flight solely because of bureaucracy. some ridiculous 35 minute rule regarding security that was never explained to me when i checked in. i didn't even know that was possible, but leave it to me!

london, i have deemed you my favorite place in the entire world. you are the place where i would spend the rest of my life if i could... my reason for hoping i meet and marry a charming british man whose wit makes up for his awkwardness. or an ex-pat with a penchant for you and your ways.

really, we must stop doing this. i'm beginning to feel like i'm doing all the work in this relationship, and it can't go on forever. taipei never treated me this way, and i'm still giving you chances. i come back next month, on my way to praha. i'm begging you to be more welcoming this time around. stop eating my money and computers. stop allowing weird men to follow and harass me. and for the love of God, it'd be nice if i could make my flights. or at least have a little dignity intact. other countries give me that, why can't you?

this glass is for when you return.

this past week, i've been despairing over having to leave prague. the truth is, it's been a long while since i've been this happy. i realized that this month, i didn't spend any time thinking or dreaming or hoping to be anywhere else. just unadulterated contentment.

while sitting with my favorite people last night, we laughed about how ridiculous this whole program has been, and how rewarding it is to be at the end. it's hard to say what's going to happen, now that we're all getting new flats and new teaching jobs. and we won't be required to sit in the same room for 12 hours a day. i'll miss it, i must confess.

"joy, really, what are we going to do when you leave?" sammy asked. i didn't know how to respond. i was startled. i hadn't realized how hard it would be until i heard the sincerity behind his voice. "i don't know," was all that i could muster, "i suppose i'll be really lonely. you guys will be fine. i'm there in spirit."

things got a bit misty until sam mentioned 7 years in tibet, with the cup of tea that's symbolic of someone's return. mine would be a glass of wine, but i loved that they thought they'd leave one out to remember my spot. it's good to know that i have a spot, and that it will be vacant and waiting for me to come back in march.

i'm amazed by how lovely it is to make a family for yourself, thousands of miles from home.