buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?

i love christmas. really, i do. i have watched elf about 3 times and love actually maybe 8 this past december. i don't mind christmas shopping, and i'm all about the red cups at starbucks.

seriously, this year i've made it my mission to overdose on christmas, because it's just depressing when it's gone. but i'm amazed at peoples' capacities to ruin a good thing, even when i'm making an honest effort to enjoy it.

like yesterday, my partner and i got chastised for not playing enough christmas music at our store. people, i'm going to let you in on a little something. everyone at my store works, at minimum, 4 shifts per week. for every shift, we listen to the christmas mix at least twice. and of the songs on that mix, 5% we actually like, 45% are tolerable, and 50% make us want to get on the ground and cover our ears in the fetal position. i often think to myself, how is it possible to have this many bad versions of this song? i bloody like this song, and this is terrible! keep in mind that the christmas stuff started before thanksgiving was even dead and buried in the ground. but just for you, gracious patrons, we do not get into the fetal position. we keep making your grande 6p gingerbread, 3 splenda, breve lattes with extra whipped cream, iced, no hot, no iced, no hot, no wait, do you make a frappuccino?... okay, hot. and happily so.

so this woman came in while we were up to our eyeballs in people, and complained that we never have christmas music playing. at the moment, we were taking a break with some reggae. my supervisor told her that we switch over every so often because we're all just a bit burnt out, but if she was planning to stay, he would gladly switch to the christmas mix for her. no, she explained, she just wanted to get her drinks and go. she actually never stays when she comes in. she just finds it offensive that at the one completely unpredictable time that she comes into the store for 30 seconds each day, we don't happen to have the christmas mix on. then she whined that we don't serve marshmallows and was on her way. "merry christmas," i called after her, to no response, of course.

hear that? that's the sound of my life being sucked out of me as we speak.

the reason why we bought the bracelets.

"dwight, did i ever tell you why i left scranton? yeah, i didn't think i did. well, it was all about pam. yeah, i mean, she was with roy, and... i just couldn't take it. i mean, i lost it, dwight. i couldn't sleep. i couldn't concentrate on anything. and weird stuff like food had no taste. so my solution was to move away. it was awful. and it is something i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. and that includes you."
-jim, the office



i'm all out of words, and i'm all out of tears. i'm done with forgiveness, shaking it off, moving on, and i'm even more done with blaming myself for how much it hurts. my only thought is... why delude ourselves with friendship, when being strangers is just as effective, and doesn't waste my time?

half-truths. omissions. white lies. sparing my feelings. it's all a nice way of saying the same terrible thing.

the ironic thing is that i'd actually felt bad for all the things i'd said that one time. i'd even considered myself unfair, thought maybe it was an overreaction. surely you remember, my epic meltdown. but looking back, i was spot-on, and then some. every word was well-deserved, and probably far kinder and more loving than it should have been.

i've considered the ways to articulate, or express, just how angry i am. with you, with me, and especially with the absence of any sort of apology. i'm angry about what was said and done, but even more so about how humiliated i was when i finally got the truth. that all my defenses crumbled, my foolishness was laid clearly before me. it had to come full circle, trickling down to me, as i stood beside you. i'm a failure, a liar, a wreck, a contradiction, on so many levels, but at least i told you who i was.

have you any idea how many people tried to tell me that you and i were mere manipulation? and how many times i said, with conviction, no, you don't understand. despite the insufferable flow from their mouth, they always tell me the truth, listen to me when i tell them to stop, confide in me and i in them, and support me when i really, truly need the help. despite all the things you see or in the case of most, don't see, they would never intentionally hurt me or lie to me.

i was so convinced, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole, or just stop trying with anyone, to learn that those people knew more than i did, despite my vehement defense. this is further compounded by the fact that you haven't apologized, for this or anything else. i have long pondered our philosophies on life; humility and confidence, honesty and reservation, how one finds validation. and while my route isn't the easiest, i'll take how i feel any day over making someone else feel this way.




as far as my future, please, i'm not that desperate.

manana.

i now know why the olympics only happen once every 4 years.

they severely eclipse one's ability to carry on the responsibilities of a grown-up, much less act like one.

though i've gotta say it's a beautiful thing to forget yourself for a few seconds while amazing people like lezak do seemingly impossible things... like chasing down the french. because they had it coming. you forget that it's only a game, that the world is still full of real problems, and that you still have a serious problem with the u.s. government. these things seem trivial while you bounce around the room, screaming for some guy who can't even hear you to GO FASTER!

i maintain that the world could do with more absence of dignity.

androgyny, short hair, cultural beauty, and the severe repercussions of living in taiwan for a year

since i got back to america, people seem to enjoy making the same crack at me everywhere i go. "what do you think... doesn't joy look a little more asian?" this is promptly followed by a sharp sideways glare that i apparently do so well and sarcastic laughter.

ha. ha. ha. ha.
that's so original.

and up till this point, i didn't think i'd adopted any asian characteristics. firstly, because that's just stupid. secondly, because i'm unmistakably white. and thirdly... did i use the word stupid?

i mean, living in a culture doesn't mean you're going to start to look like the people around you, does it? not physically, anyway. yes, you might start to incorporate their fashion, their culinary tastes, and appreciate their art, but i never thought that one could actually physically, biologically metamorphose to fit one's surroundings.



behold, the glory of my celebrity look-alike collage. i honestly don't know how to feel about this. my initial reaction is that maybe i should be very, very insulted that i supposedly look like jay chou. i mean, i like jay chou's movies. i enjoy his music. i adored (and continue to look for) 不能說的秘密. hell, i respect jay chou. all this aside, however, it does not change the fact that he is a man and i am not.

apparently, i have attributes that are man-like in appearance. i'm not sure where to begin reconciling this. i think the easy thing to do is blame this on my hair, and not the rest of me. at least that saves therapy. in my defense, however, most taiwanese men are more than a little effeminate, and i believe that our friend jay here is no exception. ask chris!

next, i will say that i don't mind looking like whatever japanese pop artist/actress that is, or kelly hu for that matter. in fact, kelly came up as my closest celebrity match when i tried other photos. still shocking that they're both asian and i'm not!

i actually don't mind jesse mccartney that much, either, since i think one could argue that we look like we're related. i'm just sayin!

so, my friends, it seems that androgyny is in fact still alive and well, and my short hair has thrown me into that category. that's ok, i tell myself, because a lot of fantastic artists/actresses/musicians/cultural icons have rocked that look over the years. and also, apparently, i have incorporated the taiwanese cultural standard of beauty into my appearance. i guess i can't get annoyed with those people who say i look more asian anymore. damnit.





...but fuck that joan collins part.

emotional masochism?

a lot of strange things have happened with me and relationships over the years. when they're good (and most of the time they are) i love to hold onto those memories and feelings any way i can. i stash away letters, pictures, videos, mementos, and anything else that reminds me of how that relationship enrich(es/ed) my life.

but for some reason, when they turn sour, they can't just curdle and be done with it. it has to hurt in a really profound way. that's only happened a few times, sometimes for a good reason and sometimes for reasons i have never understood, but it has always been hard.

this is probably why i was surprised when i came across some pictures from high school. for one reason or another, i'd held onto them; put them away in boxes and select photo albums. as i went through my stuff and tried to figure out what to do with it today, i was struck by how many of those pictures i still had and how much i still wish everything hadn't changed. though i still tell myself that we've got a lot of time, and sometimes, time changes things.

and then there are other, less pleasant, aspects of holding onto such mementos. once upon a time, i went through a break-up that was the hardest thing i've ever had to do. and i've done difficult things. at the time, i couldn't even cope with organizing those memories, so i put all the letters, pictures, cd's, and gifts i'd ever received from him into a large brown envelope. i completely forgot about the envelope, as it was stashed inside a box, and then shoved into the deepest regions of my closet. today, my friends, i uncovered that envelope. looking through all the letters and pictures, i still didn't want to throw them away. i've realized that, over time, your mind starts to make those memories and letters and everything about another person into something else. perhaps it's because moving on is so hard, and maybe impossible if you don't. you have to find a way to make it worse than how you feel, and all the bad things you remember are directly proportional to how much you don't (or didn't) want to get out of bed. or maybe it's because you find new people to fill the gaps, and you forget about why you had those gaps in the first place; why that person was so important to you.

finding all these things was bittersweet for me. it showed me that all those memories weren't as i remembered them at all. and while it hurt a bit to see it all, seemingly frozen in time, immune from all the things that were eventually said and done, i was relieved to find that, in the end, there is nothing to regret.

notes 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

fyi:
it is entirely possible to yell at kids every day for a year, and still feel like part of your soul is being chipped away when you say goodbye. you WILL find 3 year-olds to be both completely intolerable and completely incredible. elementary students and the speeches they give WILL put your education to shame. and beating all the boys in arm wrestling WILL make you "so cool," just like it did growing up... and ultimately, for no apparent reason, this will restore peace to your classroom. the unexpected side effect is that you will also be convinced that, one day, you want to have a whole bunch of sons.

if you bring your steve madden pumps to taipei, they will not fare well because the unearthly substance they use as tile caulk in the mrt will destroy the heel, and you WILL end up dropping them into a community recycling bin along with the other 90% of your wardrobe. oh, my heart. it hurts.

doing too many things at once WILL make you forget even the most habitual tasks: finishing your bi-monthly report cards. turning off the light when you leave your apartment.
and also, the air conditioning.

the post office will never be open when you need it to be.

and the cute starbucks barista who speaks english but never asked you out because he's too intimidated will tell you that he's going to "very miss you."

note 2

fyi:
visiting a gyno in taiwan is just as equally awkward as visiting one back in the states. yikes.

and they WILL charge you 500NT to get a routine test because you're "too young."

when sad, i find it often works to buy something you don't need

okay, just because i bought myself an ipod nano doesn't mean i'm not sad that chris left today. wow, double-negatives.

it's been about 6 months since my ipod died, and i finally broke down and bought myself a replacement. i figure... i could get 80gb, but i don't bloody need 80gb. come to think of it, nobody needs that much! this thing carries 1,000 songs. i could listen to it all the way from ulaanbatar to moscow and probably still have space leftover. i think i'm set.

today was a little weird. i went to the jade market to pick up my awesome stamp, engraved with my chinese name. i could only stay a short time, though, because all the green almost made me suffer a seizure. bought travel guides. slept. did my laundry. walked around because the sun was out. shopped. bought my nano.

and spent an unusual amount of time laughing.

i said yesterday that i really have nothing to complain about. which is funny, since i spend a lot of time complaining. or maybe reflecting. i don't know! but truthfully, all things have culminated in God putting me right here, and that's bigger than anything i ever imagined for myself.

but seriously, i just laughed today, for a lot of reasons. as a going away present, chris wrote me a letter, crammed with a lot of things, one of them being advice. and one piece of advice in particular about dating. encouragement, if you will. a reminder that i'm really good at selling myself short. as i normally do, i took the things he said and thought about them. sometimes i conclude that he's a jerk and proceed to tell him so, but most of the time, they're just harsh truths. i went online, where little reminders about my past dating choices popped up around me. so i thought about it. about the circumstances and what it did to me and what i became. and i just laughed, because it actually hurt as much as it did at the time. at the absurdity. not that all my choices or the fact that it hurt at the time were absurd. but a few, yes. and that, to me, today, was funny.

remind me to stop selling myself short.

i wasn't meant to be cool

"too cool for school."
or so the saying goes.

a few months ago, chris walked into work, and proceeded to tell me about his awkward morning. on his way to pick up breakfast at a local sandwich shop, he saw a pretty girl and waved to her. moments later, he sneezed, producing a profuse amount of mucus in the process. you'd be surprised by how discolored and thick your mucus gets in taipei.

to curb the potential pointlessness of his tale, he explained to me his immediate thoughts while he furiously searched for a tissue. really, he said, i was thinking, cool people don't do that. do what?, i asked, sneeze? not just sneeze, joy. sneeze so that copious amounts of snot are emitted from their nostrils while they catch it in their hands and still try to save face, he replied. it's not about the sneezing, but about how awkward i looked doing it. think about it, joy. cool people don't do that.

his reflection on being cool did little more than make me laugh at the time. that is, until wednesday.

i was on my way to work, when i got road burn i haven't felt since that day with the truck. the day that left gashes in my hips for months, marred by the gravel. every day, i live in denial that i have another 10 hour workday ahead of me. i leave home with (sort of) sufficient time to get to work. really, "sufficient" is defined less by how early i leave and more by how gloriously reckless my bus driver is. it just so happens that my alley faces directly to a bus stop. unfortunately, my alley lacks crosswalks, and taking a crosswalk just to get to the bus stop would take me at least another 5 minutes. so to sidestep it all, i wait until traffic is clear, make my way to the center divider, then cross the second half of the street when it's (mostly) clear. on very rare occasions, i have a clear shot all the way across. and wednesday at approximately 8:20am, my friends, just happened to be one of those days.

it's common knowledge in taiwan, though not in most of the western world, that you can cross a street even if motor scooters are coming because there really are no set lanes, and they can easily go around you if you get in their way. i was hurrying to my bus stop when the scooters just started barreling down wenhua lu in my direction. i can make it, i thought to myself, though there was one scooter moving faster than the others. i hesitated for a second: do i slow down or speed up? going at my current pace will cause a collision. if i hurry, i can probably make it, and if i stop altogether, i risk the onslaught of traffic that follows the scooters about 5 or 10 seconds later. it was as if the crazy side of me, the one that compels me to do things like move to non-english speaking places, and the practical side of me were in combat. and for once, the practical side was just as strong. half my body obeyed its usual master, while the other half followed my practical side, remembering how little it wanted to hit anything again, EVER. and in the process, i completely bit it in the street. my legs slid out from under me. i lost my shoe. fortunately, most of the scooters weren't moving as quickly as i'd expected, so i had lots of time to hobble off the side of the road.

and i realized in that moment: cool people don't take dives onto gravel in the street. a cool person wouldn't be bleeding profusely from 4 open wounds in his or her foot right now. and cool people wouldn't be shouting profanities to themselves right now about how much that son of a bitch was hurting.

i did clean myself up once i got to work, and all seemed fine. i used to roller blade as a kid. i've skinned myself more times than i can remember playing soccer or with my brothers. i never bother to take these things seriously. so i cleaned my wounds, covered them, and went about my business.

and all seemed well, until today, the day after cheap hippie kickboxing. it was the hardest workout we've done in a while, but i thought i was fine. my wounds seemed to be scabbing, and they didn't really hurt while i was working out. i got home, showered, and cleaned myself up, only to wake up the morning after in excruciating pain and with a completely swollen foot. for the first time EVER, i spent my whole day at school barefoot. it hurt too much to wear my slippers. i couldn't go up and down stairs. i hobbled from place to place, and was probably crankier than usual. and my kids kept asking me questions about what happened, which just sounded plain silly when i omitted the part about jaywalking, since that's never a good thing to advocate to a group of 6 year-olds. since then, i've taken medication for the swelling, which seems to have improved and generally tried to keep it clean, though i'm still limping.

when i become such a wuss?

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.

so funny, i can't even handle it sometimes

lately, i've been having so much fun at work. over the past few months, i feel that my ability to communicate with my kindergarten students has greatly improved. i've started to figure out how they think and how they will respond to the things i say. as a result, i now have a few of them latched onto me at every turn. this makes my day considerably better. i'm also feeling less frustrated with their naughtiness or the controlled chaos that is a kindergarten classroom, and starting to see the humor in the way they behave. today, i laughed so hard in my music and movement class, i could barely compose myself long enough to get my kids back into a line.

why?
i have a relatively new student named carlos. well, teacher chris and i picked that name out for him, and if you could see or talk to him, you would agree that it's perfectly appropriate. i'll admit that i didn't like him at first, but he's grown on me a lot. i'd be lying if i said his borderline insanity makes my day truly glorious. carlos is probably the smallest kid in the whole school. he's 3 years old, and his motor skills have only begun to develop into something constructive. he also has a speech impediment, which he may or may not grow out of. today, i was singing and dancing to some songs with about 20 of the kindergarten students, when we got to "3 little monkeys." for those who don't know it, i've posted the lyrics for you:
three little monkeys jumping on a bed
one fell off and bumped his head
momma called the doctor and the doctor said
"no more little monkeys jumping on the bed!"
(continue with 2, then with 1)

as you might imagine, the actions are pretty straightforward. we show "3" fingers, then pretend that they are jumping on a "bed." we show "1" finger, pretend that it has fallen off the "bed," then pretend to bop ourselves in the head. we pretend to talk on the phone for "momma called the doctor and the doctor said." and for the last line, we shake our heads, wave our arms to emphasize "no," then stomp on the word "bed." unfortunately, some of my younger students, carlos included, don't exactly have the words down. for him, it comes out kinda like "three laeg mooonnksss juuuuuu beeeed. ooonnn fffeeee ooooooo..." you get the idea. he tries so hard, and i love him for it. unfortunately, he also doesn't quite have the motor skills to do some of the actions, though he does his best. but watching him do it today, i couldn't contain my laughter. he put his hands up, showing a random assortment of fingers that was supposed to be "3" while he pretended to sing. he had such a fierce gleam in his eye as he sang... he was being completely serious about this song, determined to show me that he could do it better than the other students. he bore his teeth and bulged his eyes, showing immense concentration, but the effect was absolutely hilarious. when it got to the part where we're supposed to bop ourselves on the head, most of the students understood that you're not really hitting yourself... you're just pretending, and thus, they cushion the blow. not carlos, though. he full-on, full-force, proceeded to smack himself in the head every single time. with the ferocity of his gaze and the force with which he hit himself, i thought perhaps he didn't feel it at all, though he nearly knocked himself over a few times. at this point, i was barely concentrating on my own actions, because i couldn't get over the fact that he was actually hitting himself. he got through "momma called the doctor and the doctor said" fairly well, though he looked positively furious when he said the words. then come the last few words, everybody's favorite because of the stomping. carlos completely bipassed the words and the head-shaking actions, and poised himself for the stomp. he stood on one foot, his pointed hand raised high in the air, anticipating the stomping part. he then brought his foot down full-force, looking both fatigued and incredibly proud of himself for doing the song... only it was a good quarter of a beat after everyone else.

there are countless other moments like this in class. the tearful pleading "teacher, don't want!" when we tell them we will take away their cool cards. students who hoard all their food in their mouths because they don't want to eat. i have one students who likes to pretend he's a car. with others, there are inside jokes, buzz words and phrases, and of course the threat of taking away dodgeball. who knows? the world just might fall to pieces without dodgeball on a friday. perhaps it's cruel, but at least it motivates them enough to finish their essays and pass their tests. ah, sweet, all-too-precious leverage.

i have to get a video and pictures of them, because they're priceless. with teacher chris, mrt rides to and from chinese class are all stories about what kids said and did, sometimes interspersed with fits of laughter that make telling the story difficult. i often feel that i've given up all control of my life, as it's really impossible to make my students do anything. perhaps this is but a small glimpse of what it's like to be a parent. but since i can't force them to do anything they don't want to do to make my life easier, i just hope for mostly favorable outcomes, and generally laugh to keep from crying. i find that the laughter makes it nearly impossible to cry most of the time, or to fathom a more fun job than the one i have. i suppose they're all helping me to see the humor in what i do, despite my chronic perfectionism. it's going to be really hard to leave next year.

the stuff good stories are made of

"in the struggle for survival, the fittest win out at the expense of their rivals"
or so the saying goes.

last weekend, i decided the time had come for me to venture outside taipei. certainly, i'd been to taichung before, but i'd never visited southern taiwan, much less taken a weekend trip since i arrived in june. then fate smiled upon me in the form of other peoples' general restlessness. as chad is leaving in about 3 weeks, he's been really keen on making the most of his last days here. because we celebrated 10/10 last week, he took advantage of the holiday to go to kenting, a beach town very near the southernmost tip of taiwan. he invited chris and me to come along. while chris was busy with mormon stuff this weekend, i thought it would make a good excuse for me to get out of town for a while. though i would be arriving 3 days later, at least i would know someone there to explore/get into mischief with. furthermore, mitch and his friend sam were heading down there for an extended holiday as well, and as the proverb goes, the more the merrier. when i'm involved, however, it is always an adventure. this is a fact i must always establish, assess, and accept every time i leave the house. establish, because i know how things go. assess, mostly monetarily. how much can i afford the mishaps that will undoubtedly come? and accept, because 99% of the situation is how you deal with it. some say it's the law of attraction at play, but i call it mostly blind luck.

i made my way down to kaoschung early saturday morning. well, early is a relative term. actually it was mid-morning, but the cool thing is that taiwan has already established a high speed rail system, which makes a trip across the entire country merely 1.5 hours of relaxation and countryside. i got into kaoschung before noon, hoping to catch a bus to kenting within the hour and get there by the early afternoon. because i had no idea where anything is, i took a cab, who seemed to mostly understand what i was telling him. unfortunately, mostly isn't quite good enough when asking for the bus station, because he took me to the dodgiest bus depot i've ever seen. and i've seen some dodgy bus depots. i got out and cringed a little, wondering how i was ever going to find a way to kenting, when another friendly bus driver who was on break, noticed my apparent befuddlement and asked me if i needed help. his english was minimal, but i managed to convey to him that i wanted to go to kenting.
wo yao qu kenting.
he pointed to what looked like a city bus, and told me that was a good way to get there. great, i thought. my new-found friend then told the city bus driver where i wanted to go, i purchased a ticket, and hesitantly boarded a bus headed toward oblivion. yes, oblivion. i had no idea where it was going or if i was even going the right way.
this might be a good time to note that while it takes you 1.5 hours to get 90% of the way to kenting, it takes approximately 3 to travel the remaining 10%. southern taiwan is nothing like my world in taipei. taipei is lively and busy. the world of southern taiwan is... desolate... void of human occupancy. the bus stopped at non-bus-stops, and people kept getting on and off at random. i planted myself in my chair, and told myself over and over that, no matter where this bus was going, as long as i didn't leave, i wouldn't be lost in the middle of nowhere. even if i ended up back in kaoschung, at least i could find sign of human life there. my 3 hour trip went something like... shack... shack... bus stop... shack... oh, 7-11!... field... mountain... shack. and on and on until we reached the coast. from this point on, it would be a matter of figuring out which sparsely-populated beach civilization was supposed to be kenting, the so-called tourist capital of southern taiwan. furthermore, chad wasn't answering his phone. he knew i would be coming into town, but i heard nothing from him. i resolved myself to the fact that i would have a good time no matter what, even if i was my only company.

finally, my bus driver pulled over to a non-descript bus stop and nodded in my direction. the thicker crowds of people outside and my semi-useful map in lonely planet taiwan seemed to indicate that this was, in fact, kenting. i stepped outside and found my way to the nearest coffee shop, where i pondered my next plan of attack. let's see... chad wasn't answering his phone, i didn't have mitch's number, and i didn't have a place to stay. first priority was figuring out where i could stay, then devising a way to get a hold of my comrades. the luxury of being in reach to teach is that, while i didn't have mitch's contact information, someone else in my phone was bound to. and! i was lucky enough to find that person. unlike chad, whose phone died, mitch answered his phone and told me that they were at a shooting range, but that they would call me when they came back for dinner. that left only the hotel. despite the fact that kenting is in virtually the middle of nowhere, there is a slough of hotels there. surely, one of them would have a place to stay. unfortunately, at the first 20 i tried, i got an unhappy result:
duibuqi, wo yao fangjian. ni you meiyou yi ge?
yi ge fangjian jiu?
dui. wo yao shuijiao.
meiyou!
aiyo!
this went on nearly an hour until one of the hotel owners was kind enough to call some friends and find me an open room. i had a place to stay and i had reached the guys, so i was good. onto the beach! kenting is arguably the most beautiful place i've visited here. the beach was serene and extremely clean. there are no waves here, and it's surprising how peaceful it is when you can barely hear the feeble crashing of the waves on the beach. i had some good music, and paced up and down, in and out of the water for almost 2 hours. the beach made me feel connected once again to california and all the feelings associated with it. for the first time in a while, i felt like myself again. i really must visit the beach more often.

mitch broke the silence when he called, and i made my way over to their hotel, where i found 3 disheveled men... chad the worst of them all. apparently, through an unexpected twist of events in his own schedule, he had come to kenting with only one change of clothes. this had led him to purchase new underwear just that morning and the best shirt ever. it was a muscle tank with a skinny boy on it flexing his muscles. at the bottom it said "i'm number 1!" i could tell he hadn't bothered to shave in days. tired though i was after my day of travel, i was happy to see them all, and they disclosed their plans for the evening. dinner. night market. possibly a club, a pub, or ktv. beach. hookah. not necessarily in that order. those who know me well also know i'm game for anything, so i told them to lead the way. we wandered through the nightmarket, exploring hand-made crafts and unusual clothes, and playing with the idea of a henna tattoo. i still think i'm going to get one, if only to experiment with how exactly i feel about having something marked on my body. our wanderings eventually led to a nearby pub, where we ordered a large hookah and a few pitchers of beer. i had one of the loveliest conversations i've experienced in months that night. starting over is something i need in my life. i give second chances generously, and grasp any opportunity to build from new chances. after hours of conversation at the pub, we made our way back to the boys' room, where mitch and i stayed up all night watching the rugby world cup and the colbert report... chad and sam made it through some, but couldn't muster the willpower to stay awake the whole time. even i faded in and out. i trudged home rather tired around 5:30am, where i slept on a very hard mattress.

the next day brought many adventures. it began with a quiet breakfast and a morning at the beach, a few hours of shopping and exploring, and then an eventual scooter rental. this time, however, i did not crash it. i found a shop, and the proprietor asked me several times if i'd ever driven one before. yes, i said. yes, i'm a foreign woman, but i have driven one. unfortunately, it didn't look very good that i couldn't remember where the brake was, but she hesitantly handed the scooter over, and i got the hang of it quickly. i drove up and down the coast, attempting to understand the arbitrary traffic rules and praying to God that i wouldn't get stranded. when i came back to familiarity, mitch called and asked if i was up for something. i told him i had planned to take another bus ride from hell back to kaoschung in the late afternoon so that i could catch a train back to taipei. well, he said, he and sam were going to stop at the aquarium and then drive back to kaoschung, so i may as well go with them, right? at least i'd have company, and it would be a new experience. i agreed that it sounded like the way to go.

in theory, that is.

we left the aquarium when it closed, hoping to get back to kaoschung in two hours. unfortunately, after a few wrong turns and way too much time at dinner, we did not get back into town until 9:30. we returned our scooters and dawdled back to the train station, only to discover that the last high speed train had left at... 9:30. we were screwed. the next train back to taipei wasn't high speed and wasn't leaving until 11:30. this meant arrival in taipei around 5:30 or 6:00. or we could wait for the next hs train in the morning, but that would bring us into taipei too late, and sam and i wouldn't make it to work on time. this left the bus. a 4 hour ride that couldn't possibly be too hard to secure, right? well, you would think it wouldn't be difficult, but it was. it felt like the entire city wanted a night bus. terrible thoughts kept running through my mind. what if we were stuck here all night? what if we couldn't take the first hstrain out in the morning? what if we were stuck here all day tomorrow as well, and i had to explain my irresponsibility to my boss? how screwed, exactly, would i be? after an hour of searching and being put on waiting lists, i was beginning to lose hope, though i tried to maintain a positive exterior. sam wasn't talking altogether because he didn't want to lose it, and mitch was getting more noticeably frustrated by the second. i tried to laugh it off, but my brain was screaming at me. i was so tired. i'd hardly slept at all the entire weekend, and i would have to be energetic for my kids the nenxt day. finally, when we thought we might not find anything, we found two separate buses. i went by myself, while they waited for the later bus out. i think mitch felt bad, as it was based on his guarantee of speedy transport back to taipei that we arrived in kaoschung so late. needless to say, i didn't get home until about 5a.m. i slept for 2 1/2 hours, then got myself to work. it was a long day, especially since i have chinese on monday nights, but i kept telling myself that i was lucky to make it at all.

and that, my friends, was kenting. i can't wait to go back.



on a topic unrelated in even the most remote way, i think my ipod is dead. i don't know how or why this happened. it simply froze. i'm running out the battery right now, hoping that it might unfreeze it. i really haven't been abusive to this ipod, so i'm baffled as to what happened to it. but it's almost 3 years old and therefore, will have to be replaced in the not-too-distant future. i'm hoping it can't hear me. sometimes i hate technology.

also, i don't normally talk about music here, and it's been a long time since i've said anything, but... well... i really, really love anberlin's semi-new album "cities." i've been following them on and off since i was a freshman in college, and i'm extremely impressed with the quality of their music over the years. what began as merely an attempt to depart from stereotypical mainstream christian music has led to some truly beautiful songwriting. high five, stephen christian.

another addition to the list of the (many) stupid things i've done

my weekend. i can safely say that it was legendary - one of those days that i will tell my kids about. also, it was arguably the most terrifying and embarrassing days of my life. i don't really even know where to begin. okay, first things first:
it all begins, my friends, with a guy named chad. i work with chad, and it's a whole lot of glorious. like, he comes up with ideas for (stupid) things to do, but seems to think that such things are better when more people are involved. i'm not much on coming up with (stupid) things to do, but i'll gladly join along if someone's looking for a partner. and thus, adventures in southeast asia ensue. along with bruised backs, indonesian death treks (or maybe that was my idea?), getting caught in torrential downpours in the middle of nowhere, scooter crashes, and a very unclear night involving a hi-life, a curb, and me wondering if he was dead to name a few.

so chad approached chris and me last week, telling us that there's a political rally in taichung (south of where we live), and that a promoter wanted a few foreigners to come down, give a thirty second speech, and sing "we are the world." great, i thought. no big deal. AND they would be paying us NT$1,000 each, which is like $35. SWEET. so chris told us he couldn't come, but i agreed to it. i got to our bus stop in taipei, and chad told me... oh, p.s. (he actually never says "p.s." but i'll pretend he does) i just found out we actually have to give our speeches in chinese, not english. WHAT? he then went on to say that if we couldn't both do it, then one of us would have to speak and represent both of us, at which point i told him it would bloody be him, because I don't speak chinese! unless they wanted to know my name and that i happen to think guotie hen haochi!

so while we were on the bus, i could tell that the coordinator who invited us to this event was unhappy with my decision not to speak. so i told her... okay, if you help me translate a short speech into pinyin and let me take it on stage, i will do it. she agreed, so i decided that i was fine with it so long as i had a crutch.

we got to the event, and while it occupied a large area (a stadium) and it had a large stage, i wasn't really worried. there weren't too many people out there. i told myself, this isn't so bad. i can do this. we ran through a short rehearsal, and i was feeling okay. chad was traipsing through the local political party supporters and bumming souvenirs wherever he could. i suppose some thanks is in order, as he did acquire some snazzy blue shoes for me, the symbol for this political party. actually, i didn't know that there were so many ways to wear blue shoes, but i think i've seen them all after this day. chad also managed to walk away with a taiwanese flag and the coolest hat i've ever seen. the event began about 20 minutes after our souvenir-hunting adventure. and while there were many stools available (not chairs or benches, people. stools), it wasn't all that crowded. no problem, i kept telling myself.

40 minutes elapsed, and i could tell it was rather loud out there, while i was back stage with the other foreigners. they hurriedly told us it was time to go, strapped headset microphones to us, and paraded us out there singing michael jackson. i think this might be a good time to mention that i was also carrying a miniature american flag and waving it proudly for the crowd, amongst my other american, korean, and african comrades. we got out on the stage, and i could't even believe it. there were, no exaggeration, thousands of people out there. it was more people than i've ever seen in my life. and they were all expecting me to say something! at a rally! in chinese! and i don't speak chinese! i was in the midst of global politics, and i had nothing! it was like having one of those frustrating nightmares where you're naked or you can't find what you're looking for or you just... can't... seem to reach... your destination. there i was, standing out there, the stupidity of what i'd agreed to do slowly dawning on me as the girl before me finished her speech, realizing that i had to move - had to make a sound - anything! the other foreigners had nervously given their speeches, including chad, whose speech didn't sound anything like the one he'd read to the rest of us on the car ride to taichung. i slowly strode in front of my foreign companions (the taiwanese are big on moving forward when it's your turn to speak on stage). i had 4 or 5 sentences written on a paper. but i was so nervous that i thought i might just pass out. i've never spoken or performed in front of that many people before! i began my speech: "ni hao! wo shi joy. wo shi meiguoren..." okay, so far, i'm okay, i thought. then i got to an unfamiliar part of my speech: the part where i had to tell them i'm from california. blast! i couldn't remember how to pronounce the word for california! what were the tones again? okay, 3, 1... damn, that's not right! i stumble through it, and look down at the rest of my speech. it was like all the letters were moving. like i'd never seen them before, much less known how to pronounce them! i tried to force a few words out, but the tones were all wrong! it didn't even sound like chinese coming from my mouth! who knows what sort of offensive things i was saying while my tones shifted erratically! i think i was even inventing new tones up there! so i skipped to the end, where i proudly announced: wo ai taiwanren! xie xie!

they clapped, and i finally escaped the stage, where it took me a good 2 minutes to stop shaking. after the event, we were given free transport to one of the local night markets in taichung, and then embarked on a long ride back to taipei.

wow.

what was the political event, you ask? it was a rally to support taiwan's recent bid for a spot in the u.n. they really want to get back in there, something i fully support. also, i got to meet the mayor of taipei, who, people say, will probably be the next president of taiwan. i got pictures with him and everything!

in all, not a bad day. i keep envisioning my children in the future, telling their friends that their mom was crazy when she was young. i don't even know what came over me. who was this person standing in front of what felt like all of taiwan telling people she liked shuijiao??? i'm strangely proud of myself, yet simultaneously horrified.

and that, my friends, was my weekend. changing the face of taiwanese global politics, because i'm sure what i said will have a profound impact on the upcoming election, and especially the u.n.'s decision about admitting taiwan. hey, i do what i can. help their youth build a better future during the week, get involved in politics on the weekend. may as well give back, right? right.

question: why did the chicken cross the road?...

...to avoid dying of dysentery, of course.

but seriously. show of hands: who remembers that stupid question from childhood, and furthermore, who thought it to be utterly pointless and irrelevant to anything pertaining to real life. i mean, chickens don't cross roads, right?

ah, see... that's where you're wrong. clearly, you've never been to indonesia.

the concept of chickens crossing the road never made any sense to me until i found myself in the back seat of a van as it whizzed through the windy roads of lombok island, indonesia. the roads are about as wide as a one-way, one-lane street, but people in indonesia find it perfectly adequate for a 2 lane highway next to a precarious cliff overlooking the ocean. i just smile and act like i have complete faith that our driver won't lose control of the vehicle and send us plummeting over a cliff into the tropical waters below. i also act like it doesn't bother me that i don't have a seat belt. i guess people sitting in the back seat don't get one. it was on this particular car trip, just before our treacherous trek up mount rinjani, that i saw dozens of chickens cross the road. our driver honked time after time to get them to move out of the way. apparently, they're not smart enough to simply move when they see oncoming traffic, nor do they seem to learn that the road = bad. so they insist on crossing the road and just narrowly escaping an especially gruesome and squishy death.

ah, but i'm getting ahead of myself. this post, really, is about my trip to indonesia, not about chickens. but where do i begin? our harrowing car trip-slash-exercise in effective chicken-dodging tactics is merely the beginning of the many adventures chad, chris, and i experienced on this trip.

last saturday, we arrived in bali. we decided to spend our first night in kuta, a popular destination for tourists. and while the beaches of kuta are beautiful and there are many people, it is so developed that you lose a lot of indonesian personality. starbucks? dunkin donuts? pizza hut? please. if we wanted all those things, we could go back to the states. nevertheless, we discovered that there was a very good middle eastern place down the street from our bungalow, with sheesha for 4usd. 4 dollars and hookah? sign me up. we downed hummus and enjoyed our apple apple tobacco before moving on to some of the local night clubs and resorts. our first stop was ku de ta, which was right on the beach. unfortunately, despite being beautiful, it charged way too much money for drinks. by western standards, it's about right, but in indonesia, you shouldn't spend more than 3 or 4 usd for a mixed drink. feeling a bit underdressed and uncomfortable with the high prices, we moved on to two local favorites: crusoe's and Mbargo. we all enjoyed crusoe's because of the live music and the laid-back atmosphere. but it turns out that this place was also something of a brothel. it didn't take long to figure out. while i was uncomfortable as the only female non-prostitute there, i found the social interactions around me fascinating. i actually liked studying body language and male-female hierarchy. i was angered by the superiority and the sense of entitlement that the men had. even the young ones. i was saddened that the girls were so desperate and by such a degeneration of love and sex.

but then again, i was only observing.

the next day, we spent a few hours on the beach (great surfing, p.s.), before moving on to ubud, a smaller city more inland. i think that ubud was probably my favorite place. i liked our accommodations best there as well. it was quieter, less crowded, less developed, and more bohemian. we wandered through the shops and talked with the locals for a while, then made our way down to the sacred monkey forest. for 1usd, you can buy a bag of bananas to feed wild monkeys. they will come up to you and take them, and some will even sit in your lap. they're very intelligent and incredibly adorable. also, they're very spoiled in the sacred monkey forest. chad took out a banana to feed to one of them. distracted, he didn't notice that another was creeping up behind him until it snatched the entire bag from his hands. i also witnessed chris' monkey mishap. he held out a banana to offer to a monkey, but it didn't want that banana. it wanted the bag. so it tried to grab it, but chris wrestled it away. at this point, the monkey bore its teeth, showing its true colors. chris tried to give the bag back, but at this point, our monkey friend was bored. short tantrum, as it were. nevertheless, chris did manage to give it one banana, but this wasn't enough. it kept throwing said banana to the ground with contempt. spoiled, spoiled monkeys. after this, we had a lovely dinner in a garden and attended an indonesian dance show. the costume and the makeup was amazing, but i think what fascinated me most was the style of dancing. their traditional dancing tells stories through eyes, hands, fingers, and feet. there's very little movement of the entire body and very little facial expression, so the entire dance is punctuated by subtle movements. it is very beautiful and entrancing to watch.

the next day, we had an early cooking lesson at cafe wayan, an indonesian restaurant. they took us to one of their larger restaurants, where we made a 5 or 6 course meal and then ate it. the wonderful thing about the food is that we used only fresh ingredients. they actually had a garden next to the kitchen, where they could pick their spices and vegetables for the meals. the food was amazing, and we all thought that perhaps we were slipping into a food coma. we then spent some time shopping and wandering around before deciding to rent motor scooters and explore bali a little more extensively. this sounded like a lot of fun to me, though i'd never ridden one and i had to remember LEFT side. LEFT side. RIGHT turn, DANGER turn. unfortunately, my lack of experience became painfully apparent when i turned too widely and hit a parked van outside a hotel. i pretty much bounced off it. everyone could see the horror cross my face when it happened. for those who don't know, i've never hit anything in my life. never been in an accident. never received a ticket. chad and chris were quite supportive through it all, though they couldn't keep themselves from laughing. i imagine that i'll never live it down. we had to postpone our motor scooter adventure to get an estimate on fixing the bumper and the scooter. they took us to a local body shop, where they were quoted about 90usd to fix the car and 50usd to fix the bike. they promised me that if i simply paid that amount, all would be forgiven and, more importantly, forgotten. i didn't argue, because i imagined how much trouble i would have been in had this happened in the states. no international license. no license to drive a scooter. no insurance. hmmmmm. very rarely can you pay a paltry $150 to make something go away. after paying my debts and briefly seeing my life flash before my eyes, i decided to get back on and keep truckin. gotta get back on the horse, right? i am happy to report that i didn't hit anything else for the rest of our trip. we traversed the winding roads of rural bali, stopping every so often to take in the vast sprawl of rice fields around us. we also visited the "elephant caves." don't get too excited. there weren't real elephants there. it's named after ganesh, one of the hindu gods which is, surprise surprise, embodied in elephant form. there, we found a temple, pools to wash oneself before entering the sacred caves, the biggest butterfly i've ever seen in my life, and literal caves where people can go to pray and make offerings. what fascinated me most was the hindu concept of three. they have a sort of idol where one can pray (and i think make offerings to as well?), and our tour guide explained that three is an extremely important number in the hindu tradition. the three statues we saw represent creator, protector, destroyer; birth, living, death; peace with people, the divine, and nature - the view of the world within these lenses of "three" is an integral part of hinduism. very interesting.

the next day, we decided to take a long bus ride and short flight to lombok, an island not far removed from bali. it is, by and large, the road less traveled, and we wanted to experience some true island living. upon arrival, we found our accommodations for the night and set out exploring. the island of lombok is even quieter than kuta. there are far fewer tourists, but the poverty is far more apparent than on bali. i noticed that many people have almost nothing. there are also several family farms with small shacks for people to live in. it made me feel like i had so much, seeing how little they lived with.

fun fact: did you know that indonesia has the world's largest muslim population? while the island of bali is hindu, the other islands are muslim. also, did you know that people get up to pray in mosques at absurd hours like 3am? i discovered this because my hotel was next door to a mosque. wowy, prayer is noisy!

we had a delicious authentic indonesian meal, and explored our options for our stay on lombok? scuba diving or mountain climbing? scuba diving or mountain climbing? choices, choices. i had decided against scuba diving, so i left it up to the guys to decide what they wanted. if they decided to take the courses to get their padi certifications, i would either climb a mountain by myself or spend my days snorkeling, swimming, or lying on the beach. finally, we reached a consensus: we would all climb... nay, conquer... nay, bitch slap... mount rinjani. we'd already done some recreational mountain climbing in taipei. how hard could it be, right?

...i'm actually surprised to be alive after that climb.


nobody warned us about what we'd be facing, and that we would need a fair amount of materials to make this trip comfortable, if not simply possible. materials like: sweatshirts, strong hiking boots with excellent arch support, long pants, and maybe a month of steady conditioning. the trail began easy enough... climbing over roots and up a few gentle slopes. but as we progressed, the mountain became a monster of its own. by the time we realized what we were facing, we couldn't turn back... we'd come too far! we'd marched too much to turn back, but the mountain was getting steeper by the step. it began as probably a 25 degree climb for the first quarter, which then evolved into 45. that's okay, we could deal. but the next leg - the leg after lunch - was something like 50 degrees. i was so tired, i wanted to simply pass out. i'd felt like i'd lost all will to keep moving, much less keep breathing. i suppose what kept me going was chris' unfortunate bout with what can only be described as dysentery. and chad was climbing in berkenstocks. surely, if they could keep moving, i could do it too. we finally reached post 3, about 3/4 up the mountain. we would make camp there, eat dinner, then rise early the next morning to make the last 1/4 trek up to the rim at sunrise. after that, we would hike down to the bottom. unfortunately, i had a few thin sweaters that i managed to layer to generate a paltry extra heat, chris was still suffering, and chad had only his sarong, which he wore as a cape for warmth. it was a long, blustery night for us. while the company that we were going through provided a guide, porters, food, and camping equipment, we were otherwise ill-equipped for this journey. chris got his own tent, which was probably good because he was feeling so sick, so chad and i shared, and probably got about 3 hours worth of sleep combined. we shivered and turned all night long trying to generate enough warmth to go to sleep. parts of my body were so hot, they were sweating, while other extremities were so cold, they had goose bumps. somehow, we made it through our night of misery and arose in the still of darkness for the last leg of our climb. the air was the cleanest i've ever breathed. the forest was so quiet it was almost deafening. the stars were brighter than i'd ever seen them. God's glory abounded. we witnessed the sun peaking up over the mountains of bali and the ocean as we hiked. however, this hike felt pretty much vertical, on loose sand and rock. but we're troopers, and we made it to the top. looking inside an active volcano is an experience i'll never forget. everything was so green and huge and beautiful. we breathed a sigh of victory as we shivered uncontrollably in the morning cold. after about an hour marveling at the top, we headed back down to base camp. okay, so the walk down was more of a stumble/slide. i may have scars forever.

verdict? totally worth it.

at base camp, we received transport to one of the ports at lombok so that we could take a boat to the gigi islands, a few desolate beaches about 45 minutes away. on the gigis, there are no motor vehicles, and everything moves a little more slowly. the ocean is clear and the sand is white. we arrived at the port, which is a whole lot of desperation crammed into one place. everywhere, people want to carry your bags, sell you something, do anything to extract money from you. they don't even ask. they see a car pull up, and they ambush it to carry your bags so that they can charge you. finally, we managed to escape and head to gigi. in transit, we met a friendly bar promoter named jules, who helped us find our way around the island. he knew good places to go, and was generally good company. we located an adequate place to sleep, and spent the rest of the night exploring the islands, eating, and having a few drinks. unfortunately, our trek in rinjani severely caught up to me on the islands. i woke up the next day with horrible stiffness and the worst hangover i've ever experienced. i hadn't even had much to drink the night before; it was something like 3 over the course of 6 or 7 hours. i'd simply been sipping, but it all hit me horribly the next day. i think it did not mix with my fatigue and dehydration, and it produced a very uncomfortable, persistent nausea all day long. it wasn't even intense, just a prolonged discomfort. chad was also struck with the same rigor mortis-like qualities in his limbs, and we both waddled from place to place. we couldn't even go up and down stairs without bracing ourselves. as is typical with our relationship, though, we thought it was a fun game to hit each other in the thighs unexpectedly, just to elicit a response. why? team-building, we say. chris, fortunately, didn't have the same problems. he actually recovered quite well from our trek, and i'm pretty sure he deserved it after 2 days of misery. he did, however, take a tremendous (and possibly cruel) amount of pleasure laughing at chad and me as we crept along and grimaced. nevertheless, we spent a relaxing day on the beach sipping cold fresh fruit drinks and wading in and out of the water. there's something so therapeutic about the ocean for me. simply being in it makes me feel alive... like the world is exactly the way it was meant to be.

after a morning and afternoon of leisure, we headed back to lombok via boat and to bali via plane for one more night in kuta. chris treated us all to a resort and a beautiful hotel room and we had a delicious dinner. apparently, i crashed as soon as we returned to our room from dinner, but i must say that it was the deepest and most complete sleep i've had in a long while.

the next day, we wandered around bali for a few hours. chad and i had one last balinese massage, and we all bid indonesia goodbye.

indonesia is beautiful and exotic. i only wish we'd had more time to do the scuba diving and surfing, but perhaps another day. this trip was incredible, and i'm so glad i went. i feel like my world opened up even more, and i'm hoping that my heart opened a little more with it. i wouldn't change a thing.




...except maybe the scooter accident.

on God, control, and the laborious process of moving on

"when one door closes, another one opens."
or so the saying goes.

"There was utter silence all around me. And now for the first time I knew what I had been doing. While I was reading, it had, once and again, seemed strange to me that the reading took so long; for the book was a small one. Now I knew that I had been reading it over and over – perhaps a dozen times. I would have read it forever, quick as I could, starting the first word again almost before the last was out of my mouth, if the judge had not stopped me. And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice."
-c.s. lewis, till we have faces

i love this part of the story. for those who don't know, i wrote my senior thesis on it. it seemed appropriate, since i first read it in 8th grade and my understanding of the world has changed considerably since then.

i suppose i identify with orual. she's reading her complaints about the various injustices of her life to the gods, and she realizes that it never mattered that the world was unjust to her. somehow, she came in with a sense of entitlement. it's at this moment in the book that she sees her true self. that all her complaints never mattered to begin with. she keeps insisting that it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but she doesn't move on until she realizes that what's fair and unfair to her is insignificant. how she reacts is. nobody will ever find it fair. acceptance of one's inability to change this or to change other people is significant.

a few weeks ago, i received an email. i didn't expect it and i still don't know how to respond to it, or even if i can respond to it. i think that when i'm honest with myself, it makes me a bit angry. it wasn't an apology or anything. perhaps it was just an attempt to move on, or to prove a point to me. but it came out of the bluest of blue depths. 4 months and no words after the fact.

when that obnoxious day that has burnt itself in the depths of my brain came last fall, i resorted to all the usual feelings. it's not fair, i didn't deserve it, i can't believe it, i thought it would be different this time, why is this happening to me. all the same questions, all over again. and i suppose it is fair that he told me that he wasn't happy before we went any further, but i do know that i didn't deserve it; i think most would agree that i deserved better.

they say that you can't control other people, just how your respond to them.

i've learned a great deal about this statement. it occurred to me that it didn't really matter what was and wasn't fair. it is what it is. i believe in a just God. and i believe in a faithful God. just because i wanted it to be different or better doesn't mean that He has to make it that way. He gives and takes away, according to His will, whether or not i find it fair. who am i to decide fair?

of my break-ups, this one has been the most liberating. orual stopped complaining when she realized that she couldn't control everything. i finally realized that beating the ground was also accepting defeat, and that constantly repeating to myself that it was so so so unfair was only driving me mad. fair or unfair, i had to change my approach. so i did, and it was difficult and painful and all the rest. but moving on has come far more naturally this time around. and the constant need to be with someone has begun to dissipate. for the first time since i was 16, i can honestly say that i'm okay with this, that i might actually prefer this.

as much as i love my faith, the church bothers me because all my years of growing up have instilled in me that i'm somehow incomplete until i find someone to fill the void. like marriage will be my miracle drug, and that when i meet him, i'll know. like i'm searching the world for the missing pieces of myself. since last september, this concept has perplexed me. why am i looking so hard, and why do i feel compelled to think of that as the beginning of my life. am i ignorant or just somebody that was meant to be alone? i like to think that my heart burns too much for relationship for this to be the case, but my attitude towards relationships is cynical at best. i'm so jaded by the supreme laziness i've experienced.

fair or unfair, right or wrong, things have changed. i'm of the opinion and joy is a choice we all make. i can run around asking why or i can accept that what is, simply is, and choose to let go. everything happens for a reason, and i've given up trying to understand why or why not. i'm only as stuck as i choose to be. life requires proactivity. in the spirit of joy and choosing it, i am grateful that all this has happened. it surprises me sometimes that this process has revealed so many anti-me characteristics. i'm more guarded, and i find that i care less. not so much that i would use another person, but enough that i can say done is done is done is done, and forget it. i don't like not caring, but i do like not getting hurt anymore. You have a purpose. damned if i know what it is, but i'm choosing to not look too hard for it. i'm sure it will be, in the most cosmic sense, more fair than any way i could envision it.