thanksgiving.

i have a confession. i love... no... love american holidays. i think that they are the best holidays ever. nothing makes me miss home like missing a good, old-fashioned american tradition. in fact, i can tell you a number of sad, lonely tales about what i did on my favorite holidays of the year.
for example, last fourth of july, i spent the day exploring st. petersburg, and the night waiting in a station for the longest and most uncomfortable bus ride you can probably imagine. twelve hours from petersburg to riga, with one stop in estonia in the bloody dead of night. i did discover that it eventually gets dark that time of year, however, but only for 2 hours. and for those who don't know, the fourth of july is my second-favorite holiday. just after christmas. so you may as well call it my very favorite holiday.



despite my lonely tales, i will tell you this: one of my favorite thanksgivings was last year, the first one at kate and caroline's... and the one that followed with the mormons. it wasn't perfect. no fancy china or sitting at a large table while everyone gave thanks, and on one occasion, no turkey! actually, i think there were even canadians and kiwis at these events, too. but the joy and the welcoming and the warmth of the whole thing made me feel like i was at home again. for the first thanksgiving, possibly ever, i felt that i had something monumental to be grateful for. i had a family, despite having no family. i wasn't lonely, despite how very lonely i had been. i know, i know, normally we thank God for the big and the small, the meaningful and the insignificant... that's what the holiday is for. but this one, somehow, was different. i suppose that i'd felt so much of what it means to lose, or give up, what was important and comfortable to me, only to be provided for in abundance in such a very foreign place.



these days, i'm totally loving thanksgiving.

personality tests

lately, my family has taken a number of personality tests, partially because it'd be good for us and partially out of curiosity.

i have recently discovered that i am a blue-white, very nearly a blue-white-yellow.

and also that i am an enfp. more importantly, i also learned that, as such, i am typically attracted to intp's and infj's.

somehow, this explains a great deal, about me, and about the hims i seem to choose.

i really wish i'd known this a year ago.
or three.
or maybe even five.




to be honest, i'm very tired of hurting, and really i just wish it would all go away. this week marks 60 days, and i am saddened to find that, on occasion, i still feel compelled to cry. i'd like to think i've forgiven, because being unable to do so is only going to hurt me - slowly eat away at me so that i remember nothing about him but my own bitterness. this would be unjust as, truly, i mostly felt much, much sweeter things than bitterness. some things, more deeply, wildly, and beautifully than i ever thought i could again. and others, more painfully and recklessly than i'd ever hoped to revisit after the one that took me a year to extract.
despite all this, i have no desire to utter that forgiveness, much less express it in a meaningful way. still, part of me feels that the dreams, the nervous twitching, or maybe even that sick feeling i get at the bottom of my stomach when i uncover that letter or those entries will go away if i do. the other part of me, however, believes that any utterance will only be disregarded, or un-reciprocated, or worse, criticized. that somehow, the whole thing will be concluded to be my own fault, and i, being ever-true to form, will accept the blame. it's hard to say which course of action is more unbearable, but even more difficult to admit that the reason i refuse to act is because i'm sure i'll cave. and i absolutely cannot cave, because, i know, absolutely, that it wasn't my fault, and even more absolutely, that i can't take the humiliation again. blessed are the poor in spirit, He said, for they shall be filled. i don't know that i'm ready to feel that poor again before i wait for You to fill me up. i don't think i even have the capacity for that kind of humility anymore.

i said goodbye

today, i thought i was going to make it without crying. i got through k2 barely phased. i hugged them all and told them how much i love them. they're my pride and joy, my legacy, my crown jewel, those k2 kids.

then on to k4, where they sang a song for me and gave me hugs. still nothing.

at lunch, the teachers threw me a party. they each bought me an individual present, though i had to earn it. also, i might add, this party was complete with zhenzhu naicha (my favorite), zhi pie (my other favorite!), cheese cake (my favorite dessert!), and gold watermelon! wow, they know me so well! am i really that transparent? but i still held on.

i had a party with g2, but most of them cried the whole time. i couldn't help but think to myself... this has to be the worst party ever, with all these sobbing children. i cried a little.

then came s4, the mother load. i had planned to simply make some root beer floats with them because they'd find it fun and we'd be silly. but my chinese teacher apparently had a very different idea, as they wouldn't let me in when i went to get some supplies. when they finally opened the door, all my children were lined up with neon bracelets singing "please and thank you, these are the magic words..."
after that, they played "ode to joy" for me on their recorders! no joke!
then we played a game. i'd pick a name out of a bag, they'd all look at it, then i'd have to ask questions to guess who the child was. when i found them, they had to stand up and say something nice to me "thank you, teacher joy..." etc etc. then they reversed it. each child had a piece of the class letter and a number. i had to pick a number. they'd stand, give me the piece, and i'd say something personal to them. i got through most of them all right, but then we got to the ones that i've spent the greater part of my year yelling at. it's a funny thing, that yelling, because they didn't even want me to say something to them... they just started to cry uncontrollably. when this happened, i lost it and found myself sobbing in front of all these kids. apparently, the crying continued long after class was over. i don't know why that broke my heart. i guess they know i love them despite the yelling.

surely, dickens was referring to s4

"it was the best of times; it was the worst of times"
or so the saying goes.

most people have heard of my ongoing, and i daresay epic, war of wills with the children usas refers to as "s4." they range from grades 2-4, and every day is its own private bevy of madness. i seldom let people in, because i feel that it's a government nobody else could understand, nestled somewhere between a loving community and absolute anarchy. some days, i feel like i have my very own, fully taiwanese and completely awkward version of the partridge family, where everybody loves everybody else at the end of the day. and others, i feel like i'm waging a war.

my boss gave me the opportunity to give them up this semester, when all the classes changed. chris and i had to make a choice, and as much as they drive me crazy, i chose to keep them. there are days when i rejoice in the brilliance of my decision and days when i almost can't handle the misery anymore.

i couldn't tell you how many times i've trouble-shooted(shot?) this class with my co-workers. investigated discipline options. organized and reorganized the class. but ultimately it comes down to how i relate to them and how they relate to me. some of it was fixable and some of it was not, no matter what happens or who teaches the class. as it turns out, some kids who are trouble when they're three are still trouble when they're in third grade.

last week, i had to punish two of them for singing "down by the bay" while everyone was trying to write in their books. which isn't a big deal, except one was singing the verse and the other was singing the repeats. i can almost guarantee that they didn't plan it out. they just thought it was a good idea at the time. one started, and the other followed suit. and i would have been angrier, if it hadn't been so funny. i sent them outside for the chinese teacher to deal with them, mostly because i was afraid i'd laugh if i had to punish them myself. i told chris about it the next day, and asked him how he felt about it. is it me? sometimes, they have the capacity to feel like an absolute failure as a teacher and as a disciplinarian. and others, they lift my spirits. i find them funny, sweet, completely endearing. my boss has told me that the most important thing is that i haven't given up on all the kids who have worn the previous teachers out. really, she once told me, you're the only one who hasn't given up on them.

but he probably made me feel the best, when, after my anecdote and expression of frustration, he interjected "you know they really love you," he said. "that's why they do those things." silence. i think to myself, if they loved me, they'd keep my commandments, wouldn't they? "well, what i mean is, they don't do it just because they love to drive you crazy. they love that it's you."

you think so? really, deep down, i'm going to miss s4. i'm so strangely proud of them. proud of their absurdity. of their inability to sit still. of our inside jokes. that every time someone is singing loudly in the halls or making a commotion, i can say, "i think that's one of mine." and i'm always right about that.

here is a picture of us when we've actually pulled it together enough to be super class. and i feel that it pretty much sums us up.










be sure to survey the splendor of my required school uniform.

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.

that one time

"...think it'll be all right if i never leave my apartment till i'm old?"
-holly, p.s. i love you




a recent topic of interest has been pain that makes you wish that you could die. i'm not talking about physical trauma. i'm talking about disembodied pain, the kind that is so far inside you that you wish you could go tear it out, though you wouldn't know where to start.

i mean, people die for physical reasons all the time. something inside you stops working, and thus, you stop working. it may or may not hurt so much that sleep or unconsciousness or maybe even death are preferred. but for many, if you lie there or do what you're told long enough, that pain goes away.

but we explored this a little further: can you ever die of a broken heart, of actual emotional pain? most have heard the disembodied voice, the one from that indefinable part of yourself that screams that something is very, very wrong.

i spent a summer incapacitated. i went to work because i had to, ate because i had to, and planned my semester because i had to. and once in a while, i even smiled, because of the people in my life. and though i kept on moving, i can attest that there were days, weeks, even months that i woke up and didn't want to move. that i wished that i could just lie there as long as it took for whatever thing that was broken inside me to heal.




right now, i feel that way. i wish i could go to sleep for a few days or weeks, and wake up when it doesn't hurt anymore. i'm spent. i just want to call into work and ask if i can come back in a week, after not moving for the next 7 days. surely, it can't hurt that much then. i go to sleep to stop from hurting and wake up feeling like i hadn't slept at all.

can't i, please?

oh, no. no, no, no.

"how do i love thee? let me count the ways..."
or so the saying goes. according to browning, anyway.

i apologize in advance if this blog is too graphic.

2008 marks my 3rd year of no valentine on valentine's day. well, i did go on that date with drew last year, the day before valentine's day. but that was a first date, and i'm pretty sure we only picked that day because it wasn't as awkward as actually going out on the 14th.

the nice thing is that i didn't really notice this year. i'd like to think that this is mainly because i've grown a lot. a year of singleness in taiwan really kicks you in the romantic gonads, so when the options are complaining or growing, i pick growing.

but actually, this has more to do with the fact that i was sick on valentine's day. sick, sick. very sick. more sick than i've been in at least a year. and i don't know why. for some reason, my body woke me up at 3a.m., as if to say, "hey! you feel like crap! you don't want to miss a moment of it."

so for the next 4 hours, i couldn't sleep, i couldn't sit, and i couldn't walk. it all made me dizzy. so, i thought to myself, in my misery, maybe vomiting will help. and this is true, perhaps it would have helped. for those who don't know, vomiting, as i perceive it, is fate worse than death. every bit of it repulses me. and over the years, i've learned to control all manner of vomiting by strained mind over matter. and surprisingly, this works on most vomit-inducing situations: hangovers, motion sickness, watching others vomit, death marches on mount rinjani, gnarly taiwanese food, vicodin, being run over by trucks, dormitory life. in fact, i can remember the last time i got the stomach flu, and it was at least 12 years ago. this was also the last time i ever threw up.

but to give you all the magnitude of my illness, i prayed for the ability to throw up whatever it was that my stomach could not handle that night. prayed. and tried. for over 3 hours, i heaved. but nothing. forgive me, but i was under the impression that things of this nature came naturally. like putting your arms out in self-preservation. or procreation. nobody has to teach you to do this stuff. your body figures it out on its own. but apparently, it's been so long since i've thrown up, that my body has actually forgotten how to do it. either i've successfully trained myself in all manner of conscious and sub-conscious defense against regurgitation, or i'm somehow challenged. i like to think the former.

long story short, i managed to stumble into work for the afternoon class sessions, but was barely able to stand through most of the periods. i suppose this is why God invented things like story time, and especially valentine's day, as i just set my kids to making valentines and writing letters for the latter half of class. i've never missed a day of work, but i've spent most of the past 2 days sleeping, or wishing i were sleeping. and when not doing the previous things, just wishing i were dead.

God bless valentine's day.


p.s. i found this picture, and words really cannot convey how amazing it is. chris told me that some of my pictures make me look like i'm "special," but i can guarantee that none of them come close to his face in this one.

i remember a song that says "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." and by that i mean, let's not forget love comes in more forms than romance, people. when i taught my kids about valentine's day, i reminded them that there are a lot of people to love, in a lot of different ways, not just boyfriends or girlfriends. and i'm thinking, sometimes, that's the best kind of love.

a very merry un-christmas to you

"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.

"so then he was all 'i love you' and i was like, 'please...'"

"count your blessings."
or so the saying goes.

i couldn't think of a title, so i wrote this. because chris and i are clever/bored/immature, we find it amusing to write captions on handouts we get at work and school. we then share said captions with each other and have a laugh about it... i like to think it keeps us from imploding. anyway, this was his caption from my workshop. i still think mine from last week was better.

though i spend most of my days as a teacher at least mildly stressed out, i've come to realize that i'm so very happy here in taiwan.

once in a while, i have a devastatingly long week here. sometimes it's due to a bad class or sometimes we just have a lot to do, but this week was one of them. i had the sounds and letters competition, report cards, MY workshop, kindergarten handbook, and a final exam in chinese all in one week. i'm a bit tired.

while you could see the effects of my stress on my face, i've gotten better at managing it. i think this is because i'm learning to dwell less on those things which wear me thin and more on things which make me happy. this week's blessings include:
1. a warm sweater
2. fresh fruit
3. guotie
4. not failing my final, despite having not studied
5. kicking ass at my workshop, thus affirming my awesomeness
6. not kicking ass during g3, thus tearing down said awesomeness
7. chris (the less nar-nar version)
8. & julien
9. christmas music
10. k1
11. peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches
12. yellow watermelon
13. tonight
14. coffee
15. talking to layce
16. rain
17. just discovering that aro's coming to visit

count your blessings.

i haven't decided

"honesty is the best policy."
or so the saying goes.

i remembered a song i used to listen to in college. and it's a bit trite, but i've seen a lot of truth in it over the years:
i was thinking just the other day
some things are better left undone
some battles better left un-won
some sad songs better left unsung
some fires are better left unfed
some pages better left unread
some words are better left unsaid
-mxpx, unsaid

it's simple, really. if you never say anything, you don't run the risk of feeling foolish.

the interesting thing is that inconvenient honesty seems to compel me to other things. it seems to open my eyes to unexpected aspects of my life that are otherwise ignored.

the past year has been a large lesson in learning not to complain. in building faith through patience. i'm hoping that my pained and awkward honesty produces useful realizations.

of all the things...

"all you need is love."
or so the saying goes.

i'm not a weeper.

anymore.

i would say that i never have been, but as i think about it, this isn't true. i cried enough to nearly drive my parents to insanity as a toddler. i spent an entire summer and then some crying when i came back from england. partially because i wasn't in england anymore, but mostly over boys. that was a lot of reshaping, and i think crying was the only way i knew how to release whatever confusion or frustration i was feeling.

but when ivan and i broke up 13... almost 14 months ago (wow, it's been that long?), i think i flipped a switch inside myself. i spent exactly one day crying over it, and never did again. in fact, i didn't even cry when i got a little bruised by recklessness during semester that followed. again, boys were involved. sure, i got my feelings hurt, but nothing that ever drove me to tears. then i cried... i mean, really cried... the day layce left. and again when arlee passed away.

but i sold or gave away everything i owned back in the states, said goodbye to everyone i loved, and missed aaron and kirsten's wedding and still didn't shed a tear. i even thought i would get a little misty when chad left (rinjani + 10 hours a day, 5 days a week might do that to a person), but nothing.

so why did i cry today over something so silly? thanks to the glories of technology, i've been able to stay in close contact with a good number of my friends back home. e-mail, text messaging, skype, facebook, blogging... i still feel close to them even when i'm so far away. this and the fact that i was so ready to be away have made adjusting to taiwan extremely easy. no need to cry, because my friends are just a skype call away, right? today, when i logged onto myspace to check some messages, i discovered an e-mail from matt. anyway, it was simple: "seriously, i miss you so much. come back." him being a man of few words in general, and even fewer words that aren't teeming with sarcasm, this was a surprise to me. and what surprised me even more was that i got all choked up and started to cry a little.

yeah, what?

he's always told me that one of the beauties of our relationship is that he can say anything to me, for no other reason than because i'm joy. over the years, the honesty has been helpful, especially since he simultaneously drives me crazy and provokes an unnatural (like spending 24 hours with k1 students and not yelling at them unnatural) amount of patience from me. and vice versa, i think.

that was a rabbit trail, but i think the reason i'm saying all this is because his comment and my reaction represent how much i miss the honesty of my friendships back in california. i lived an emotionally reckless existence back home. i wore my heart on my sleeve, never afraid to tell people that i loved them or what i thought. yes, i can tell matt anything and not worry about what it'll do to either of us, but i feel the same way about many people back home. they're the kind of relationships that allow me to be vulnerable and protected at the same time. the kind that made me feel absolutely comfortable with being myself from day one. the reason why college was such a beautiful experience... because i didn't feel like i was pretending, not even from the very first day i spent in orange. i have always felt that my friends, my true, lasting friends, have had my very best interest at heart.

despite being very happy in taiwan, i've found myself to be especially guarded. i keep things to myself that i normally wouldn't, because i'm afraid, very afraid, of revealing what i really think to anyone. i make jokes. a lot. or i say nothing. my capacity for being closed off surprised me most a few weekends ago. i noticed that i was actually trying to keep others outside my "self" bubble. and my commitment to doing so seems to know no limits. if i feel exposed, i throw out sarcasm or irony or disdain as a shield. i, joy, someone who always made it a point to be fiercely open and honest, found myself recoiling. and then i thought about it, and i've been doing it for a few months now. and i've realized that most of the things i say or do are simply incomplete. a half-hearted version of myself, because, for some reason, i think i'm just too afraid. that's so silly, but it's as if i've had a taste of what it feels like to play my cards close to the chest, and now i'm addicted to my half "self." as if i simply hope to protect myself, from what, i'm not exactly sure. but the idea of being anything else doesn't feel like an option right now. oh man, it's like being in 8th grade all over again.

and thanks to my shields, i'm definitely not a weeper.

anymore.

not gonna lie, the power feels pretty good.








.......but i much prefer the vulnerability. how do i go about trusting people enough to get it back?.....

"i just want to lie on the beach and eat hot dogs. that's all i've ever wanted."

"happy birthday to you."
or so the saying goes.

my birthday came very suddenly this year. unlike so many years before, this one was not wrought with anticipation or big plans for parties, or with excitement over, finally, being able to go out with friends. of not having to get that stupid, obligatory black stamp on my hand every time i saw kindred fall. this year, it's come a lot like my 18th birthday - without notice. i remember turning 18 very vividly. my new friends all bought me small presents, tokens of their new affection, we had dinner and watched a movie together. i remember it being slightly awkward because, after all, we barely knew each other. honestly, i didn't even expect that much, and i remember feeling very grateful that they all thought of me.

this year, i didn't relish the idea of having to plan anything. why stress in a place i still really don't understand and then spend money i don't have? anyway, i'm going to seek satisfaction in having dinner with a few friends tomorrow night. it should be a lovely way to remember that i'm 22 and that all the awesome birthdays are over.

but, of course, no birthday is incomplete without buying yourself a present, right? when i thought about the things i wanted for my birthday, such a decision wasn't easy. taiwan is absolutely overwrought with clothes and accessories, that i simply feel overwhelmed with all the colors and options. i wanted something unique - something very me.

and then it hit me. of course! the perfect thing to give myself for making it 22 years... arguably 4 years longer than i was supposed to. so, my friends, i have a new piercing. it's been about 3 years since my parents warned me against this. to their credit, they got used to the nose piercing, but when i tried a second one, that was met with resistance. their argument was that, after allowing me to slide on the nose, if they were paying tuition, i needed to respect a few of their rules - no tattoos or piercings. given that they allowed me pretty much every other freedom and they didn't pester me with questions about where i went, what i did, or who i dated, i resisted throughout the rest of college. it was a fair requirement and it was simple. after i had my degree, they told me, i was allowed to do what i pleased. so for birthday 22, i put another hole in my left ear. i like it. i think it's tasteful. but it hurts like hell.

hey-o.

psalm moves me

today, our most precious arlee died. i feel a little as though this really isn't happening. i grieve for her family. and i worry about my mother. arlee was her closest, dearest friend. the truth of the matter is:
we all loved arlee. she was one of my favorite people, because whenever i saw her, she emitted a joyful spirit and always had something nice to say. she's one of those people who made you feel good all the time, because she tried to see the positive in everything. every time i saw arlee, she made me feel as though i was doing something beautiful or profound or important with my life. when i told her how i felt about taiwan and the peace corps... that it all had to do with this idea that has been in the back of my head... this concept of praying without ceasing. this idea that i make more of a difference if i do rather than if i simply be an activist for all the causes in which i believe... she told me that it sounded right to her... it wasn't crazy... and that i should definitely, definitely, definitely stick by it. none of my romantic ideals or abstract agendas or uncertainties or holistic approaches to faith ever seemed absurd when arlee was around... she always made me feel like i was going to do something significant for the kingdom of God. she believed in following the Lord sincerely and whole-heartedly, without pretension or expectation, as best you can and with your entire being. most importantly, she made my mum feel like herself. every day with arlee made my mother see the beauty and glory of God's creation... that we could extract joy from even the simplest elements of God's grandeur. any day that my mum was with arlee was a precious day, and each interaction made her a more complete human, a lover of all that God had made her. in every way, arlee coaxed kindness and beauty from the world around her.

today, even before i found out, while i stood watch for chris' crazy neighbor while he packed his clothes, i felt compelled to read psalm 91. for some reason, these were words i felt i needed to experience today.
He who dwells in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress; Mmy God, in Him I will trust." Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the perilous pestilence. He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it shall not come near you. Only with your eyes shall you look, and see the reward of the wicked. Because you have made the Lord, who is my refuge, even the Most High, your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, nor shall any plague come near your dwelling; for He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra, the young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot. Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high because he has known My name. He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and humor him. With long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation.

i suppose my heart rings true for you, red, white and blue

"home is where the heart is."
or so the saying goes.

in one week, i've lost all concept of time. i honestly did not believe that i would be perturbed about living in taiwan for the 4th of july. i have never been out of the country on independence day before. never.

today, i reflected on last year. i refer to it as the best day of my life. everything about it was simply perfect. soccer, the beach, coffee, mason jennings, fireworks, mexican food, and a really late night.

today, i taught my first classes and ate dumplings with teacher chris at the restaurant around the corner from where i live. not the same thing.

but he did lift my spirits. i try to maintain the attitude that we are all citizens of the world. we are all God's craftsmanship, His handiwork. His love for me knows no bounds, and His love for others knows no bounds. as one of many partakers in His image, i should want to know His glory in others ways. pray without ceasing, as He said. i believe that such prayer is in the form of doing. in the form of rejoicing in His glory through the many avenues of His creativity. and that includes other people. shouldn't i try to explore that? we have global, universal responsibilities to each other. this is why i'm here, i keep telling myself. if i honestly have such a philosophy, i have to make an effort to understand other people.

i find it funny, however, that every time i've been abroad, it has only reinforced my patriotism. not because i think my country is better. it's just different. but because america offers me a sense of belonging that i can't find anywhere else. it is one of the few things i feel i can understand, a place where i can simply be. i never spend a day in america feeling that i don't belong. certainly, i yearn for and enjoy being in other places, but in america, i simply am. it's like a pair of pajamas. i love other countries as i love my madden shoes or that fabulous dress i bought at h&m. but when i put on my pajamas, they are never, ever uncomfortable. i never feel that they simply aren't working for me. they allow me to be. and while i want to explore as many aspects of God's grand story as possible, want to promote the cooperation of culture, i will always, undoubtedly, be american.

you don't bring me flowers anymore.

"what is a friend? a single soul dwelling in two bodies."
or so the saying goes.

wow, i really hate that song. and yet, tragically, i have it stuck in my head and am now immortalizing it on cyberspace, potentially to complete strangers or people who might have weird fetishes with that song. oh, mental image... abort, abort, abort. why it is in my head, one can only speculate. all day, it has been filled with good-slash-healthy music like mason jennings, u2, and ella fitzgerald, only to revert to this during my bimonthly blog post. my neglected blog is indeed a scarce glimpse into the many, many voices in my head, and it's unfortunate - nay - catastrophic that these are the voices with which my readers(?) are left. perhaps i'm doing this because of the many years of growing up on barbara streisand and neil diamond. oh, young joy, why didn't anybody rescue you then? such a funny and unpredictable place, this world. nevertheless, i can't help but think that this does, perhaps, explain a lot. in addition, it may actually be the reason for my current singleness. yikes.

moving on.

for those who have never heard this song before, it is, more or less, about saying goodbye. that's the short version, anyway. i think it's in my head because the past month has been a process of closing a huge chapter of my life. in the past 37 days, i have: accepted/been accepted to a job, gone through commencement at chapman, said a very painful goodbye to my best friend, driven to the taiwanese consulate in santa monica not once, not twice, but THREE times to get my visa, quit my job, moved out of my house, had a garage sale, given away my furniture, sold my car, given away 1/3 of my wardrobe, gotten 4 separate vaccinations (also, i waited 3 hours for typhoid... which was oral, by the way... and took a total of 10 seconds to explain), gone to the dentist and had a tooth drilled and filled (also my first experience with novocaine, and it's not an attractive look for me), attempted to understand a little mandarin, said goodbye to my friends, researched and bought a plane ticket, done the father's day thing, celebrated my mom's birthday, cleared out every cabinet in the kitchen, and donated nearly 75 lbs of food. in all, it's been a long/short month. also, i'm baffled as to how i managed to pack for england before. it was so much harder this time. i'm a bit tired.

last saturday, a.c. threw me a going away soiree at la casita de limon. i'm so grateful that he did it for me, because i wanted closure on my college years, but severely lacked the energy to do it myself. i'd resolved to only spend time with those who called and wanted to see me. when he offered to organize this for me, he stressed the importance of support, and told me that he wanted to give everyone a chance to express that they're behind me in my decision. it was so encouraging to see my friends and to know that they would miss me. it made me more excited about moving on, though i am sorry that i won't see him and kirsten get married this fall. it was lovely to see people from my various years of school, and made me further appreciate the impact they have all had on my life. it was unique, too, for me to see a range from those i've known since the day i got to chapman to those i've only known since i graduated in january. they shared their favorite stories about me, re-told the truck story all over again, and passed pictures around. chapman was a truly extraordinary time in my life and introduced me to unwaveringly supportive friends. we've had our rough patches, but they have come through in even the most difficult and unexpected ways. in my most cynical moments, they have managed to slowly restore the hopelessly broken pieces of my heart. saturday was just another affirmation of how blessed i am.

not gonna lie, chapman, i had a few hard years in there. but i firmly believe that these were the best, most constructive years of my life. i've slowly overcome my darkest fears - my overwhelming and almost insatiable fear of being alone. my fear of what others might think. my fear of alienating people. my crippling acceptance of who others tell me i am or who i should be. and the shattered pieces of my heart that have been produced by unhealthy relationships or the many, many mistakes i've made have become insignificant, the proverbial pieces of dry and dead skin i've shed. i've stopped trying to reattach it and am learning to embrace the new, albeit different and uncomfortable skin underneath.




my flight leaves tonight. i think i'm ready.

for the love of karen

"to love another person is to see the face of God."
or so the saying goes.

ah, television. a medium with so much drivel to wade through, though i suppose it's no different than film. or art. or music. or literature.

can i admit right now that i miss alias? yes, i loved victor garber as jack bristow and ron rifkin as arvin sloane. i said it, okay?! character evolution... imagine that!

while i could do without the box in my living room, there are two shows i watch regularly.
lost.
and the office.

lost. oh, there's so much to say about you, lost. your writers are just so good, and i love them for it, but they are, undoubtedly, the biggest bastards in the world. without qualms, they kill off all our favorite characters. your writers even dangle it in front of us, your faithful viewers, for weeks on end, yet we feel violated when they actually follow through. what kind of twisted individuals could kill charlie? your writers, that's who. we know it had to happen, because you've been leading up to it for months, but it still seemed so unfair. you never cease to surprise me, lost, with your intricate plots and your complicated characters. and if that weren't enough, you make me wonderfully uncomfortable with how unflinchingly you examine the darkest aspects of being finite and mortal. you openly and regularly extend the assumed boundaries of time and space and the spiritual realm and reality and the divine and psychology and what we want and what can/can't be and miracles and a higher being and social constructs. your writers know that these are the boundaries we assume because, without them, we fear that we might not even be functional. so they expand and contract them, and we all know that, deep down, this disturbs us. thank you, lost, for being willing to explore these things, because the world hides from them too often.

but this blog isn't even about lost. it's about the office. thanks to mary beth, i am obsessed. i've seen all the episodes, and am constantly amazed by its exceptional cleverness.

like any faithful office viewer, i am rooting for pam and jim. we all know that they belong together, and we detest karen and roy for getting in the way of destiny.

but as i've watched, i think something needs to be said in defense of karen. though i know it's my proper place to advocate jim and pam, i can't help but feel a bit sorry for karen. i mean, she's not a bad person or anything. she doesn't treat jim poorly as roy did to pam. unlike roy and pam, she and jim have a lot in common, and though she has reason to get a little crazy at times, she keeps her cool. anything that she's ever been uncomfortable with is within reason. anyone would feel a little disconcerted if they found out that their boyfriend had a thing with a co-worker and had never mentioned it before. or how about... he ran away because he got his heart broken by the receptionist. what??

but i've gotta say that, above all, i think that maybe i simply feel for karen because i see some of myself in her.
for example

or

or


she's got spunk, that karen. she's competitive. she tries to say it like she means it. she's awkward. she's intelligent. she's understanding. really, i like karen. the only reason she's screwed is because she doesn't know enough about what's really going on. i've been told over and over again that you can't do anything about how a guy feels about you. either he likes you or he doesn't, and it doesn't matter how hard you try. or maybe he really does like you, but not as much as somebody else. i really believe jim likes karen. but she's not pam.
it's nothing you did, karen. there's nothing wrong with you. really, really. honestly, the reason jim went back to pam isn't about you. it's just... well... you're just not pam. you can't say or do or try or fix or want or give anything to make him change his mind. it really is that simple.

i don't know how it happens, how some women are karens and others are pams. there's nothing wrong with either type of person. though office fans everywhere are rooting for pam, i must step up and say that we karens are perfectly fine... we're smart, pretty, compassionate... but we just can't seem to get the guy to see us instead of the pams. we wander around the dating pool, confused because, by all accounts, we haven't done anything wrong. in the vastness of it all, most would agree that we're a decent catch. we're cool. we're good friends. we get along with guys. getting their attention isn't the problem. and when asked, the jims of the world can't explain why the karens aren't quite right. and as a member of the karen variety, i will say that it's frustrating not to understand what's wrong, when really, really, really... we try so hard.

as season 4 comes around, i propose that we cut karen some slack. being dropped for no apparent reason, for no tangible, definable characteristic, isn't easy. watching the pams defeat us time and again, and not knowing what they have that we don't is difficult.

karens, here's to perseverance.

she told me, son, fear is the heart of love

"true love means never having to say you're sorry."
or so the saying goes.

if heaven and hell decide
that they both are satisfied
illuminate the "no"s on their vacancy signs
if there's no one beside you
when your soul embarks
then i'll follow you into the dark
-death cab

"you're beautiful" is all he could muster. fatigued and frustrated, he forced himself to believe that it culminated everything that they couldn't articulate. it was as if they had said everything through the unspoken, through the nuances in expression that only they could understand and the swift, imperceptible brushes of arms and hands. her smile communicated more than she could say, even when asked point blank. she knew that she could speak, if she could simply sit down and think it through, that she could speak eloquently. but every time she tried, it was choked back by blatant, inconvenient fear. surely, they could pull it together enough to simply say what they meant, but it couldn't be done. it was too difficult, too painful to explore it, so they remained reserved. she had to avoid verbalizing what she really meant, because it contradicted who she was and what she wanted to be. and he never wanted that for her. so they chose to bury the words, even to pretend that they couldn't find them. but in the midst of collapse, of compromise, it was clear. so clear, as if they were screaming the words in each others' faces but in a language only they understood.

"i think you're beautiful." it was a language anybody could understand, on any level they wanted. within it, everything unsaid dissipated. she knew, absolutely, that it encompassed everything they meant, everything she had hoped to say but could only say in silences, in awkward pauses, in all the nonsensical, ambiguous facial expressions she conjured. her response: a sincere, authoritative kiss and a coy smile. "maybe." the air around them was potent with "maybe." it was as precise as it could be.

"maybe."

is that all right, is that all right, is that all right with you?

"here's lookin' at you, kid."
or so the saying goes.

gilgamesh had enkidu. orestes had pylades. david had jonathan.
and joy? well.
once upon a time, joy met layce.

"Because we have a moment here, let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur of 'last looks'. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks. "
-drew, elizabethtown


there is no good way of saying it, of ever saying goodbye. i thought having this semester off would prepare me, but it all happened so fast - much faster than i thought it would. "you're my best friend, and i don't know how to express how much i will miss you. deeply. unequivocally. immeasurably." i wanted to say it, but i couldn't. it was too much. too many last looks in one day. "i love you, but i don't know how to do anything about it. i'm stuck, within myself and all the things i want." a combination of liberation and the stifling boundaries of being stuck inside the desire for something bigger, something more, and the hope that today, or any day, what we want will line up again. i love you, more than you could ever understand, but merely saying the words isn't enough. if i love you this much, why would i ever leave? they say that when you have this, if you're smart, you'll never let it go. i try not to think of it that way. i try to hold onto the hope that we let each other go because it's unselfish. because it's what you do if it really is love. i'm only sorry it took 20 years to find you, and 21 to love you and everything you contribute to my life. it seemed too long, and i hope you know that, despite it all, knowing you made that pain worth it. we both know that if it hadn't hurt that much, you and i wouldn't exist. i wish you'd been there to see it happen: the ups and downs, and the almost unnatural cruelty of extracting him. i always thought that extraction of him would lead to a different, better him, but it led me to you instead. despite my complaining, i ask myself always, what would i do without you? all the years of not being picked finally led me to you. you, the one who takes my side. flannery said that a good man is hard to find. and he is, but i've met good men. but a woman like you, a good friend like you, someone who is as consistent as you. you're the kind of person that takes 20 years to find. i know, because i've looked.

sunshine, i'd really like to tell you are my sunshine

"save yo' drama for yo' mama."
or so the saying goes.

i haven't had anything to say in a while, and i've concluded that this is probably because i've been content. i read over a few of my blog entries over the past two years, and i realized how much time i've spent whining about my life. i still maintain that a lot of my last two years of college encompassed the hardest things i've ever had to do. but reading over those entries reminded me of how profoundly frustrated i was, and how happy i am to finally be on the other side.

perhaps i've grown up a lot, or i've learned to disconnect myself from circumstances beyond my control. or maybe, though i hope it isn't true, i'm just apathetic. a lot of what i've written about over the past few years has embodied my frustration with my inability to affect others' decisions, and especially my inability to change how they look at me. as a kid, i always listened to dr. laura, and now i'm beginning to see some truth to what she says; you can't control other people, just yourself. i pounded the ground for nearly a year because, no matter how hard i tried, i could not make my relationships work. for one reason or another, he was unhappy or disinterested. i'd bend over backwards to make him happy, but it didn't work. slowly, my self-worth dwindled to only being how good i was from another person's point of view. in most aspects of my life, hard work produces results, and i couldn't understand why this wouldn't work the same way. so i complained, all the while attempting to simply. be. okay.

perhaps i needed a year to realize that i don't believe that i'm made for anyone. it's not a result of cynicism, nor is this indicative of my feminist ideals. it's a combination of knowing that i'm made for One and One alone, and also realizing that two people are only as made for each other as they truly, deeply want to be. none of those failures represent anything about my worth, nor about how happy or unhappy i should be, and i'm only sorry that i complained so much about things i couldn't control in the first place. change is never easy, and i suppose it's simply been the painful process of tearing these ideas away from myself, ideas that had become so embedded that it felt like i was digging out parts of my very flesh to let them go.

never in my life have i been so content to be myself and with my friends and still so comfortable with letting things go. there's been so much grasping and grappling in the past, and it's a relief, a huge, deep, complete sigh i feel in my soul when i outwardly shrug. i don't look forward to any white gown or romantic fantasy because, whether or not it's even in my future is unimportant and not at all what i'm looking forward to. i look forward to nothing, because this concept of completion was never mine in the first place. i am complete, wanting nothing, and i acknowledged this the moment i knelt at the cross. every day, every breath, every step, every moment is a gift in the most generous form, not something to which i could ever entitle myself. i think that if i look to my future as a gift rather than an expectation, i will yield more gratefulness and compassion, and will be, in the most profound sense, complete and satisfied.

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.