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.

what's your mosaic?

i came across this concept on a friend's blog. it's a personality mosaic. i absolutely loved the idea.

here's how it works:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.

the questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favourite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favourite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name? (since i don't have a flickr name, i typed in my blog name instead)


what does your mosaic say about you?

"miss meckes... i'm sorry, but you have hepatitis b."

"it's nothing i haven't heard before."
or so the saying goes.

one thing i really love about taiwanese health care is that doctors generally believe in the body's natural defenses. unlike back home, where we pump ourselves with over-the-counter medication, vaccines, antibiotics, and prescription drugs, the taiwanese are very wary of putting foreign agents into our bodies. i've been hard-pressed to find cough syrup, niquil, ibuprofin, or even aspirin. in fact, i brought most of those supplies, and the closest i've gotten here are multivitamins and those packets of vitamin c that you mix in with hot water and drink when you're sick. i know, it seems cruel for women to live without ibuprofin, but their solution to those unbearable cramps is to simply drink more warm liquids. i have tested this theory over the course of a month, and it actually works. i'm a believer in luke-warm water these days. but upon visiting doctors, they usually try to find other alternatives to your problems. herbs. getting more sleep. less stress in your life. staying warmer.

i've learned to appreciate the simplicity of those solutions. back home, i found myself merely wanting a pill that would allow me to live the exact same way, when the obvious solution was to just slow down.

naturally, their reluctance to putting medicine into your system also translates to things like x-rays and, of course, vaccinations. wow, my mom would love it here.

that's why, when i came calling to a local clinic looking for my hepatitis booster shots, they suggested that i DON'T get them. really? i thought. because i'm supposed to. it's what i read on the who website. though they also told me to get the japanese e. vaccine, and NOBODY carries it! "it only boosts you another 5%, maybe. and you're young and healthy. we should just check your antibody count. if they're high enough, it won't even be necessary for a month of travel. and as for japanese e., they only have that for children. at 22, if you don't already have it, it's unlikely that you'll get it." when all was said and done and he'd answered all my questions, i consented to simply checking my antibodies and going from there. besides, checking the antibody count was expensive enough... i can't imagine what they'd charge me for the actual vaccines. and by expensive, i mean all of $20. welcome to national health care.

he drew some blood and told me to come back after three days to see the result. because of my job, i didn't get back until today. another doctor was in, but he also spoke english. he took me into the back, glanced at my chart, took a breath and told me i have hepatitis b.

".....i have hepatitis b?" i asked.
"yes. you have it," he confirmed.

suddenly, my mouth went dry, my heart raced, and my entire experience in taiwan flashed before my eyes. how is that even possible? i thought. is that even possible? i've led an almost painfully celibate life... i don't even have someone to cuddle with during a movie, and you're telling me that somehow i contracted a disease that is, by and large, mostly passed on through sexual intercourse?!?! now what? i wondered. treatment? is it treatable? should i go back to america right now? can i go back to america? were those previous shots worth crap? did they malfunction and give me the disease instead of protecting me? i know that if it's unlikely to happen, it will probably happen to me, but COME ON! my luck can't possibly be that bad!

"oh, i'm sorry! i was thinking antigen... this is your antibody count. no, you're fine! your antibody levels are very high. you don't need another shot."
"oh my goodness, you scared me."
"haha! sorry! don't worry about getting it when you travel. you're very healthy."

at least i managed to laugh a little afterwards.


but son of a b. he really had me for a second there.

one day me speak pretty.

i promise, every time i sit down to write something, i hope to post something good. i actually have maybe a dozen entries, but none of them are finished, and they're about much more profound and/or entertaining topics than i've been posting lately. musings. quandaries. observations. things revolving around some of the following:
-abortions in taiwan... did you know that this is common and acceptable? i didn't until recently. even though it's legal back home, it's still not okay. if you get one, be prepared to vehemently defend your reasons to anyone who finds out. here, it's simply an inconvenience to having unprotected sex. wait, unprotected sex? yes, well, the sexual tension of youth culture here would require a few dozen blogs to begin with, so i'll skip it. but there's a machismo in asian culture that states that wearing a condom is emasculating. yet man-purses, sequins, and copious amount of hair product somehow are not. also, they apparently don't learn anything in sex education, because nobody likes to talk about it. i didn't say it, chris' taiwanese friend did. people are too conservative to talk about sex, but not too conservative to have it. hmmmm... christian culture kind of has the same problem, i'm discovering. but that's another post.
-the convenience store phenomenon and how it just might make the world a safer place. really!
-my new-found appreciation for socialized health care, followed by a commentary on how overpriced and inconvenient medicine is back home. i'd argue that we're paying for better health care, but we're not. i'd argue that we're paying for better medicine, but we're not. i'd argue that we're paying for more qualified doctors, but we're not. i'd argue that we're paying for a longer life expectancy and a healthier population, but we're not. i'd argue that we're paying for more personal relationships with our doctors... for convenience... for protection... for consistency... for safety and legitimacy... but we're not. WHAT ARE WE PAYING FOR!
-taiwanese fashion. how it can be gloriously rich and beautiful, or maybe its ability to burn your eyes out of their sockets.
-my infatuation with jay chou and chinese films.
-the hierarchy of asian culture. japan. korea. china. taiwan. hong kong. the philippines. indonesia. cambodia. thailand. vietnam. burma. india. no, they're not the same, and you'd be surprised. i learned this from taiwanese friends and other ex-pats, and slowly, it's begun to make a lot of sense.
-the glory of commercials on taipei buses.

all half-finished or only just begun. why? because my ability to write and speak has diminished severely. i can't write cohesive thoughts anymore, people. vocabulary? all my sentences and words sound the same. my sentences don't make any sense anymore, because i don't speak english. i speak esl teacher. it's a terrible half-breed of a language, both stealth and completely untraceable as it sneaks upon you. it begins with a sentence, and before you know it, you're asking questions like "what is your mommy's hair look like?" you're just too lazy to correct yourself and say "does" instead.

lately, i've contemplated bringing some of these esl-isms back with me and seeing if people notice. sometimes, i think it would be hilarious. people refer to each other as "the" something. "the" teacher joy. "the" brian. i wonder how long i'd have to say it before people stopped and asked me what was wrong with me. the other fun ones include: how to do? how to say? don't have! (instead of didn't) and speaking with your hands. a lot. also, counting things instead of saying "a", "the." make a line becomes make one line. bring me a pencil is now bring me one pencil. i haven't started calling things "my one" anymore, because i hate that more than anything, though i have started making the same sounds people make when they're unhappy. just wait till it comes out of me... you might find it to be the most terrible thing. ever.

we'll see if i ever rediscover myself enough to finish those blogs.

我是 AWESOME

"i wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!"
or so the saying goes.

so tonight, after chinese class (which, surprisingly, i truly understood today), chris and i caught an opening night showing of will smith's new film "i am legend." despite spending most of my childhood afraid of my own shadow, i love me a good thriller-slash-horror film.

i was totally excited for this film, which is a lot like 28 days later, though not quite as scary, i think. 28 days later, the introduction to which i can thank the great film majors of chapman university, is among some of the few films i truly appreciate. this is partially because the cinematography is edgy and raw and exquisite. but also, the opening scenes depict perfectly the one thing i've always been most frightened of. it's as if someone opened up my brain, love for london and all, and chose to stream my thoughts on film!


it's deeply, beautifully, pit-of-your-soul terrifying.

the truth of the matter is, my deepest fear is the uncontrollable, inexplicable extinction of mankind. when i was a little girl, if my mom disappeared to do something unspeakable like take a shower, i would go into fierce panic attacks, which i could never quite explain. even then, i felt silly telling her that it was because, for a few minutes, i'd actually let myself believe that she'd disappeared and i'd never see her again. and not just that she'd disappeared, but that the rest of the world had disappeared with her, leaving me hopelessly, desperately alone. probably irrational, but true nonetheless. it's likely that this is why God didn't choose me for that whole great flood business, among other things, i'm sure.

when i lived in london, one of my favorite things to do was walk along the south bank. i liked that it allowed me the freedom to be. on a nice day, i also enjoyed crossing the bridge to parliament, just because everything was so lively, yet so separate. i liked that i could be disconnected and just observe, as in poe's "man of the crowd." it felt like i was dreaming, because i'd seen it so many times in the movies. it also had an uncanny ability to make me feel okay without the people i loved the most. i felt that i couldn't possibly be lonely; not here - it wasn't physically possible. i also replayed that scene in my head a few times, thinking about how frightening it would be if nobody were there with me. how desperate and unnatural it would all be if all signs of life were to suddenly disappear.

"i am legend" follows a similar plotline, with a sudden and incurable outbreak of a virus that destroys everything in its path. an abandoned new york is very much like an abandoned london, and people with this disease are not dissimilar to people with the "rage" virus. any way you toss the dice, it looks excruciating to be infected. the two biggest differences are that the infected in "i am legend" are extremely sensitive to uv rays and more importantly that, despite their aggressiveness, they're still capable of logic and, i suspect, affinity for and community with each other. it's a compelling twist to the world as we see it, as will smith's character is driven more and more deeply into hopelessness and frustration. his need for interaction slowly wears on him. i've always found the concepts of solitude and "othering" rather interesting. even when a person feels most misunderstood, it's almost unfathomable to exist without some sort of "presence." look at me; i barely understand chinese, but i'm strangely comforted by the mere fact that there are others around me here... that i will walk out my door and somebody will walk or drive by me. there's something that feels natural about presence. this is also probably why i don't understand atheism. it seems counterintuitive to die and be plunged into nothingness. we can't even handle nothingness here. if such a thing were true: if we really do die, only to see and feel nothing, then why bother with understanding or relationships here? if nothingness is where we came from and where we're going, being alone, experiencing and feeling nothing, would probably be the most natural feeling we could have. it's like reproduction... every being on earth figures it out because it's natural. if nothingness were the same, i don't think it would be so disconcerting. i think something would feel strangely right about it, not uncomfortable.

and as for "othering," i've always considered it interesting that "others" are simply that which the majority doesn't understand. usually, we understand this within the context of language, race, religion, sex, education, or sexual orientation. i've always appreciated how lost explores this idea: how the others are considered brutal because we, as an audience, don't understand them as well as the equally brutal survivors we meet in episode 1. and in terms of will smith, it's interesting how this turns in the film. how we empathize with him because we understand him, but how the film opens up the possibility that these logical and communal mutants see him as an "other." he captures them to find a cure, but all they see is him capturing them. he dwells in the light, something that seems crude and unnatural to their severely altered minds. i read in an article that this is a more profound theme in the original book, and i must admit that it intrigues me. the fluidity of what determines monstrous. evolution and destruction. majority and minority.

okay, so the zombies were cheesy and a bit cliche, but this is not what i find terrifying about films like "i am legend" or "28 days later." it still bothers me that they can run so fast and have so much strength. it also bothers me that they look like a less-refined version of lord voldemort, who is a lot like i'd always imagined satan; kind of charismatic and creepy, but very well-spoken and completely arrogant. it was like voldemort with rabies, which is never a good idea, because he'd have definitely avada kedavra'd that dog before it ever bit him. and the zombies in 28 days later are possibly worse with all their super speed, except they still look human.

what i do find interesting about the infected in both films is how painful the whole process looks. there's one scene in particular, as they're quarantining new york city, when a woman begs will smith to take her baby and save them. she claims that she's not infected and she needs someone to help her child. and he pauses for a second to look at her, because he wants so badly, as he says, to fix it. he keeps saying over and over that he won't let this happen. and though she's pitiful and sincere, you see plainly that she's completely infected. her hair has fallen out, she's pasty, and she's bleeding from every orifice on her face. and she's still holding her child. yikes. and the sad thing is that it pales in comparison to how painful the whole "rage" disease seems, with all the incessant vomiting of blood. i can't handle vomiting the plain way, much less projectile blood vomit.

i'll admit, i often find films like this difficult to watch, not because of the shocks and the twists, but because of the advances we're making in genetics, bio-terrorism, and warfare. fighting no longer means meeting each other on a battlefield, or blowing each other to smithereens. it's about dismantling. disarming. breaking morale. working from long distances. being silent until it's time to hit them hard. and as the souls of this generation and the ones to follow slowly disintegrate, things like this worry me, not because of what science can do, but of what truly, deeply evil people can do. we live in a world that is, on all levels, falling away from direct human interaction. the battles we fight aren't face-to-face anymore. how long until we've become so desensitized that fighting for a cause or a country means opening a vial?

wow, this was long. moral of the story: i don't like desolation, but i really, really like will smith. and london.

i expected better of you, rowling.

"just because you can doesn't mean you should."
or so the saying goes.

yes, i do realize that i'm 22 and still i enjoy harry potter, though little do i care. to those of you who think less of me, in my defense, i am currently reading one hundred years of solitude. this is mostly because i love marquez, but perhaps stems a little from my need to pacify the little voice in my head that's demanding tolstoy, claiming that i've been feeding the pop culture part of my brain too much lately. to be fair, i don't go anywhere near the general fiction section. that should count for something.

also, on a semi-related topic, life of pi was exceedingly disappointing. it's only good because the story is extraordinary. the mystery of how pi ever survived his adventure carries the whole thing, not the writing, which is trite at best. i thought martel began well when i was reading his prologue. trying to impress upon his audience the shock of his story, he writes that the frail old man who told him about pi described it as, "a story that will make you believe in God." this intrigued me. what a profoundly unusual way to put something. yet, i'm afraid that the writing really doesn't do it justice.

other than life of pi, my meanderings through marquez, and finally finishing in cold blood and the weight of glory, many of you know that i completed the entire harry potter series here in taiwan. i was deeply impressed with all the books, writing about why i think christians are foolish and superficial to dismiss her writing as they do - why it shows a stunted, undeveloped understanding of literature to be hindered at the surface rather than actually absorbing the underlying themes. it's this, along with so many things, that annoys me about christian sub-culture. that we watch inferior films rather than deeply, movingly beautiful ones because of a sex scene or some swearing. that we accept mediocre music and nothing more. that we hearken only to the past glories of western art, but sometimes fail to recognize the technically simplistic, but philosophically complex art of our own generation.

i could go on and on, because there's so much i can say to reprove the christian perception of harry potter that it would probably take another few posts or 10 or a thesis to do so. as i desire not to write that much, i'm going to skip down to why, despite my vehement defense of harry, i am exceedingly disappointed with j.k. rowling right now.

to those who haven't, i suggest you read this article. it came as both a shock and as a fulfillment of something i half-expected to happen: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071020/ap_on_en_ot/books_harry_potter

i know you're all expecting me to withdraw my approval. that is, after all, the christian standard. but my disapproval has nothing to do with dumbledore's supposed homosexuality. i am frustrated... nay, confounded... nay, hopelessly let down by rowling's choice to reveal this. if i've learned anything from my b.a. in literature, it's that the best writing is often the most ambiguous, the type that keeps you (the reader) coming back and asking over and over what it is they really meant. this is not because the writing is incomplete or vague. a person with any significant experience in literary interpretation would deign to give it a second thought if it were. no, i am talking about the writing that is woven so compellingly, that is often so complex, that we care enough to ask these questions.
was hamlet really as mad as he seemed?
is milton's greatest work obviously and debilitatingly anti-feminist, or is it profoundly complimentary to women?
virginia, is it simply your madness that led to this?
hedda, why are you so tragically intriguing?
for the love of God, john fowles, do allison and nick ever get back together?
they're silly questions because every story is, in its own way, complete. but great literature, worthwhile literature, raises questions which, even though we know how the story ended, we want to answer because their writing entranced us into caring. though answering them never ultimately changes the story, we still feel that some seemingly innocuous questions matter. we have to understand.

and of all the great questions that might have been raised about harry potter in the future, i am saddened to know that rowling killed them all with her little comment. with her need to make a point, whether it was a stance for tolerance or simply a glorified middle finger to the christian community, she has destroyed a great many debates and questions that might have been asked about her writing. questions that future students would have thought mattered, because it's never exactly clear.

and i find it to be an even further devastating blow in that it truly matters little to the story. though he believed whole-heartedly in love, that it had to become a particular kind bothers me. dumbledore, the asexual dumbledore that i've been reading about in the stories, is great simply because his sexuality is so ambiguous. we start to ask ourselves the usual questions. is he a metaphor for God? what about his love for grindewald? is it a homosexual love, or is it tragic because it was a david-jonathan love? a friendship beyond others, that was destroyed because of power? if he was straight, is there evidence to support it? or was it his troubled past that simply polluted his intimacy with others? but she's answered all these questions for us, leaving us little to ponder and not actually changing the story at all.

since i read this article, my mind has wandered through the many ways rowling could have made a statement with her characters without choosing dumbledore. despite voldemort's inability to feel for anyone besides himself, was bellatrix in love with him, in a twisted, emotionally perverted sort of way? as far as homosexuality goes, i think there's far more evidence to support that sirius black harbored an attraction to james. why dumbledore, rowling? you had so much more ammunition. one of the most interesting, compelling characters in your story, one worthy of thought and debate, and you had to simplify him so.




john fowles once commented on the fan mail he received upon publishing "the magus." one woman vented her frustration, and demanded that he "just say what [he] means!" long did he ponder her opinion, but ultimately decided that the beauty was that he didn't answer all the questions for his readers. these things were left for them to argue about, to decide for themselves. he was partially making a point, in that nothing is ever completely "happily ever after" the way it is in most stories. there are seasons of happiness and seasons of despair, a mixture of good an evil, of love and hate, of clarity and ambiguity. and to simply lay it out for us one way or the other cheapens the human experience.

as many times as i've wished i had the answers, i am certain that worthwhile writing begs to be examined and re-examined. there oughtn't be a quick-and-easy answer, because if it were that simple, we'd fall to madness. a single human being is never simple to identify or label. all the world isn't separated into neat categories for us, in order for us to see plainly why people behave as they do. and the way i see it, the more literature reflects this reality and can still keep me caring, the better.

i happen to think witches are pretty cool.

"better late than never."
or so the saying goes.

i've been working my way through harry potter.

it took me 10 years, but i decided it's time to suck it up and give it a try. truthfully, i have always believed harry potter to be merely a fad. i expected that its popularity would eventually die out, as i generally have a great deal of skepticism in terms of pop literature. but it's been about 3 weeks since i began my venture, and i'm already on book 5. i confess: i just can't put the books down. with each installment, they get a little bit darker, a little bit more mature, a little bit more complex, and a little more compelling. quite frankly, i'm impressed.

over the past few years, i've heard a great deal of dissent regarding the harry potter books from the christian community. as they're about witches and wizards and other subjects of that nature, the great conundrum arises: to allow or not to allow? should it find a place among shelves with narnia or frodo, or should it be discouraged and indeed, banished? i've read a few reviews over the years, all of them saying to stick with lotr and that the themes within harry potter are spiritually destructive.

now that i've read for myself, i couldn't disagree more. for one thing, simply based on literary merit, i think rowling has achieved an enormous imaginative feat. it is rare to find such compelling writing on a fantasy world such as this. in narnia and the world of tolkien, they invent complete alter-universes. they exist outside of time and space as we know it. their worlds have different histories, different physical and metaphysical boundaries, different races and species - all of it outside of what we know and understand. rowling's world is similar. she invents a reality that exists both separately and parallel to the supposed real world. it too has its own histories, its own boundaries of possible/impossible/physical/metaphysical, and its own species. she indulges our fantasies: what if magic really existed? what if there was a world where we could disappear, change forms, move things around, read minds, see/walk through walls, or fly without technology? a world where people could do this at will? don't pretend like you don't think it, because - seriously - how cool would that be? rowling invents a world where all these exist, and so much more. where people not only have the ability to do these things, but must learn to use them. that exists along with the regular human race, and it intimately entwined with it. a place among the genetic code where some have the powers and some don't. some know about the alter-universe and others don't. some rely on technology and others don't. two worlds existing together, one in time and space as we know it, with all the histories and all the happenings of our own world, and another one right beside it, with its very own history and its very own struggles.

but all this is superfluous, right? that's not the threat. the threat is the existence of magic, the employment of witchcraft, and, probably most importantly, the absence of God. after all, what about all the underlying themes - is rowling championing witchcraft? is she encouraging a generation of children to become fascinated with satanism, deception, and magic? upon my own examination, i believe that christians that get hung up on this have simply not looked past all the innocuous, superficial aspects of these texts. they truly haven't thought critically about it at all.

true, there's witchcraft and magic, but the stories have much more universal and, i would suggest, nobler themes than these. these simply serve to indulge the imagination - to feed into all the things we've thought about as children.

and true, there is no question of God or spirituality in her books. but i see this as no different than any other addition to the fantasy genre. it's an alternate universe. think about all the great fantasy adventures of our day. even in a God-less piece of art, we cannot discount them, because they open up our imagination to what something might be like if the world didn't have the same boundaries and existential quandaries we have now. in star wars. or narnia. or middle earth. or any of the comic books with batman or superman or the x-men. and we do not dismiss these things based on the God principle. we see them as literary or artistic achievements. if we are to be consistent, we cannot dismiss rowling based on this characteristic.

more important than God or witchcraft, i think, is the existence of a moral and spiritual duality in rowling's books. it's not simple floundering, not remotely about idle dabble in magic and imagination. there is a war being waged. and not just any war, but a clear battle between good and evil. a championing of hope, compassion, generosity, sacrifice, and love, and disdain for cruelty, selfishness, and the heartlessness. there is a duality: between voldemort and dumbledore and everything they stand for. voldemort is cruel and power-hungry. he's an elitist, a murderer, a wager of chaos and mass genocide. dumbledore stands for all the things that we need even in our own world: acceptance of other people, kindness to all, reason, compassion, and a firm stance on what is right. i'm on book 5, and talk of war is stirring. most of the wizarding world believes that the dark side is not rising - that their troubles were over years ago, but dumbledore knows better. and though the world strips him, one by one, of titles. though people call him crazy, pelt him with insults, and his credibility slowly slips away, he stands firm in his beliefs. he knows that the good will have to stand against the evil sooner or later, and wisely chooses not to ignore it, despite protest. and even in the face of his enemies, he is polite, kind, reasonable, and steady. never behaving out of emotional preference, but out of what is good and what is right. and i can't help but find it to be encouraging in our spiritually non-committal world. if children of our own generation need an example in the books they read, i'm glad dumbledore serves as one. it's not good enough to simply deny that bad things are happening. it's not good enough to pretend. it's not good enough to remain neutral. one must stand up for what is right, simply because it is so. because it's an insult to principle not to. not all things are just okay. some truly are bad and such things must be fought, but never at the breech of justice. and never in a way that even remotely compromises the sanctity of human life.

in such a lifeless world, a world that so disinterested in picking sides, i'm glad to see such a fierce dichotomy. such a decided understanding of good and evil, and that, in the face of adversary, the good is always upheld.

i've also read articles that these stories undermine family values, championing only the wizard families and encouraging children to fight against their parents. harry's family treats him horribly and in return, he fiercely hates them. first of all, has this person ever read british literature? this is the classic situation in story after story. it's very dickens-esque. if you disallow harry potter for this reason, you should also disallow every book that has a child rebelling against his or her parents or family's expectations. even the girls in jane austen are resistant to what their parents want. it is too simple to say that rowling devalues human families and encourages wizard families. while harry is treated poorly by his aunt and uncle, families like the blacks or the malfoys, both wizard families, are worse. they go so far as to ostracize family members for being to benevolent to the human race (the "inferior" race). according to such families, if you don't hate the humans ("muggles"), you're a disgrace. in the face of racism, sirius chose not to partake, and as a result, his family pretended he never even existed. the malfoys, though a strong family unit, are plain horrible. the best example of a functional family is the weasleys, a very large, but very poor wizard family. rowling makes it clear, however, that compassion and acceptances of others is far more important than money. it doesn't matter what you have - what matters is how you treat others. and not all human families are dysfunctional. hermione, for example, comes from a human family, and has a very good relationship with her parents. they treat her well and she loves them dearly.

aside from this, i find it interesting that many christians aren't moved simply by the first almost-annihilation of voldemort. he was relieved of physical form by hubris. attempting to murder harry, his own spell rebounded onto himself. harry only survived because of his mother's sacrifice. she died holding him in his arms, protecting harry - she died sacrificing her life for his - and it was the only thing that could deflect the curse. in the books there are three unforgivable curses... curses that send wizards to azkaban - a veritable hell. imposing your will onto another's. the torture curse. and the death curse. because they take away inalienable human rights - the right to free will, to bodily preservation, and to life. which christians, exactly, would disagree that these should be, indeed, unforgivable? it was using the third that voldemort was destroyed. by sacrifice. sacrifice conquers even death.

sacrifice conquers death.
sacrifice conquers death.
now that's funny, because i vaguely remember a bible story about that...

duality of man: musings on a culture. and also, objects that make my life awesome.

"just because you can doesn't mean you should."
or so the saying goes.

when i first arrived in taiwan, naturally, i was immediately struck by initial cultural differences. different rules. different mentality. different language. different work ethic. different standards of beauty. and on and on it goes. i've been here almost 2 months now, and i've found that i've been assimilating to a number of nuances quite easily. the unspoken rules (or lack thereof when it comes to traffic) no longer affect me. nevertheless, taiwanese and chinese culture to be surprisingly quirky. while some of these things drive me crazy, i've come to terms with the realization that, one, i will probably take many of them home with me, and two, it will take a while to shake them. a few examples to follow:

shuffling of feet. we all wear indoor shoes when we go to work, and t. chris has pointed out to me that the taiwanese shuffle their feet something awful. i mean, it's easy to see why. we have smooth, lovely faux-wood floors throughout the school, and you simply glide on them on your rubber and plastic soles. but it sounds awful and sloppy. i'm happy to report that i've not yet picked this up, but i'm very aware of it now. and i've probably spoken too soon.

yes/no dichotomy. when speaking of choices, the chinese love to keep it simple. so they might ask you a question, then follow it up in chinese with your two choices. translated into english, the most popular ones are, "yes or no," "have or don't have" or "want or don't want?" this sounds best in chinese, but it creeps into their english as well. for example, if i were to ask you a question, i might say something like, "i need the map. have or don't have?" then you would respond with "i have" or "i don't have." like i said, it makes sense in chinese, but it sounds incomplete in english. unfortunately, when we learn a new language, we have a tendency to apply our own grammar rules to the new language. sometimes this is effective and sometimes it is not. in this case, it gets the idea across, but it's improper. therefore, when i often ask teachers or students something, they might respond to me with "t. joy, i don't have!" "t. joy, do you want?" "t. joy, i cannot!" due to habit, i have found that i'm starting to pick this up. chad also does it. chris is a little more conscientious about his speech, but we all subconsciously simplify our language because it's necessary to help others understand. i sometimes catch myself asking "do you want?" or ending my sentences with that annoying "yes?"... "today is the writing competition, yes?" it's terrible. i'm afraid that by the time i get back to the states, the rest of the world won't be able to understand me. or they might think english was MY second language. missing articles. odd sentence patterns. simplified vocabulary.
"*slowly* yes, can i have 1 *indicates 1 with finger* grande toffee nut latte *pause to make sure they understand* with nonfat milk *pause again*."
"would you like whipped cream on that?"
"yes, i want. little bit *indicates little bit*."
"that will be $3."
"i don't have. you take credit card, yes?"
"yes. would you like your receipt?"
"no, i don't want. xie xie."

yikes.

the non-committal "m'm." i have a mixed relationship with this sound, but i've decided that there really is nothing quite as brilliant as this grunt-like utterance. it doesn't really transfer to english, but if i had to explain it, the sound falls somewhere in the midst of a thoughtful "huh," an "uh-huh" of agreement, and a "mm'hmm" of understanding. the truly wondrous thing about this utterance, however, has less to do with its meaning and more to do with the emphasis you put on it. i've realized that one of the major differences between chinese and english is that we communicate through the significant raising or lowering of our voices, and different emphasis placed in different parts of sentences. for example, we phrase a question much more differently than a statement. chinese, in contrast, has a lot of the same words pronounced in different ways. depending on the tone, you could be either indicating that you would like a cold beverage or telling someone that you have misplaced your fish. sentence tones do not vary as much either. ending your sentences with "...ma" in chinese is the same as a question.
anyway, that was a rabbit trail. what i love/hate about "m'm" is that its meaning is interchangeable, yet the tone remains the same! you say it if you agree, if you understand, or to simply indicate that you're listening. due to the natural human tendency to be lazy, we fall back on this all the time. we just eek out this non-word, and it's up to the other person to decide in which category its meaning falls.
and yes, it does cause some miscommunication. is it agreement? understanding? a combination?

fear. the other foreign teachers and i have established that the taiwanese are definitely afraid of two things in particular: the sun and water. yes, we know. the sun shines more brightly here than in most other places and we're on an island, thus, surrounded by water. their curious fear strikes me as rather odd, as hawaiians are also subjected to constant sunlight and surrounded by a rather large body of water, but they wouldn't have it any other way. i mean, it makes sense to be a little afraid of things which are foreign to you, such as the characteristic californian fear of rain. but water and sun? when it's everywhere?
however, i have recently decided that the taiwanese are not simply afraid of the sun itself, but of the sky. yes, the sky. when it's sunny, they walk under umbrellas and congregate in the shade beneath the shadow of buildings. when it's raining, they do the same. i've witnessed a man outside of his house fixing a chair at 2am wearing a helmet. why? we don't know. my only conclusion is that it's the sky. i
t makes so much sense. if you're driving something uncovered, you wear a helmet. otherwise, you're protected under a car. and it explains why there are so many covered walkways. and all balconies have covers.
even on cloudy days, when the sun seldom breaks through but it's not raining, people carry their umbrellas, putting them away when they're shaded by buildings and whipping them out instantly when they are walking in uncovered areas.

personally? i hate umbrellas. they're obnoxious to carry, and i like the rain. i never used an umbrella in england, just wore coats. and here, i simply get wet. i don't care. and as for the sun, well, it's always been my understanding that it's a friend of mine.

things which make my life easier/awesome

dumplings. arguably, the best kind of food there is. for the cost of less than 2usd, you can have yourself a filling, portable, and always delicious little meal. i eat dumplings several times per week, usually when i just want something simple to eat and i'm not incredibly hungry. they love me at the little place around the corner.

tea, tea, tea. i love tea. bubble tea. fruit tea. black tea. herbal tea. hot tea. iced tea. the taiwanese love their tea, and i could drink it every day. while i love english tea, the taiwanese take your tea experience to a whole new level. there are some dandy little tea combinations that i love, particularly fruit iced tea, which is a whole lot like sangria, but without the alcoholic content. it's cold and refreshing, and has fruit in the bottom of your cup. and of course, bubble tea. it's a drink AND a meal. i just really love chewing the tapioca at the bottom.

sitting in public buses. buses here are really clean. and air-conditioned. and comfortable. i ride the bus to work every day, and it's actually my preferred means of transportation. you get to see the city and you can sit in the comfortable seats.

7-eleven. for anything you might need at any given hour of the day. you just never know. hungry? it's always open.

night markets. need a tazer? an outfit? new shoes? a bag? food? a new pet? go to the night market, and you'll be sure to find it. it's like a swap meet, but not just for sunday mornings.

fruit. i love exotic fruits. well. exotic by american standards. mangoes. kiwis. pineapple. coconut. mangoes are the new awesome, and i will be very sad when you can't purchase them for an everyday, normal price in the united states.

not tipping. i've worked service jobs. they suck because people walk all over you, and your tips don't make up for it. i also think it's bullshit that tips in the states have become an expectation rather than a reward for good service. i've gone to restaurants where i was ignored and/or had to wait for 2 hours for a seat, and then got an earful about how my party didn't tip enough. tip enough? we gave 15%! and that was generous! i'm sorry, did i miss the memo that says tipping is compulsory? and that the new rule is 25%, though you're going to tell me it's 15? if it's expected, why don't you just bill me for it rather than making me go through this whole routine where i have to calculate (or in some cases, mis-calculate) how much of my hard-earned money i have to give you for your (sometimes... not always) lousy service? i understand. you depend on it. so do i. it's important. but i appreciate living in a society where it's not expected... where i simply pay the bill. "then how can those people make any money?" well, they don't have to tip anyone else, so we all win, don't we? if you feel inclined to give money for good service, great, but i'm tired of this expectation. when i worked at starbucks, we earned money off peoples' generosity. i was lucky in that i worked at a store where we had a number of regulars who loved us. they always left us a generous tip because they liked us and our service. it was never expected. i'd never stopped working at starbucks if i made 15%... nay, 7.5% (half for me and half for whatever partner i was working with) of all the drinks (or food) we served. i cleaned up after you when you so inconsiderately left your cups and plates around the lobby. i made drinks. i rang you up. i kept the coffee fresh. i cleaned/stocked/re-stocked/re-cleaned/organized/circulated your pastries. i complied when they added the warming component to my job but didn't offer me a pay increase. i washed dishes and took out trash. i developed/perfected my ability to make you glorious, velvety soy/non-fat/breve/whole milk foam for your wet/dry cappuccinos or extra foamy/no-foam lattes. i made signs, took classes, and participated in dozens of coffee and tea tastings. i really enjoyed my job, but it's much harder than people think it is. and i didn't demand or expect a tip from you. so why is it expected from me?
in taiwan, nobody gives tips and nobody receives tips. you don't make that extra cash, but you don't shell it out either. if they want you to tip, they include it in the bill and on the menu. in a far more passive society, in this way, they are far more direct than american culture and its unwritten rules of tipping.

things which do not make my life awesome

standing in public buses. i just can't get my balance. it's too jerky. i'd rather walk to work than have to stand on a bus. really, really.

grocery stores. they just don't carry things you need, much less things you can cook with. this is very much an eating-out culture, and many a time i've found it difficult, if not impossible, to find food for a reasonable price that i can make an actual meal out of.

public restrooms. 2 months later, i still don't like to squat. and i don't like the whole throw your toilet paper away, don't flush it thing.



thanks for listening.

taipei 101: the physical structure and the metaphysical art of living in taiwan.

"rules were made to be broken."
or so the saying goes.

i've been here 3 days, and i already feel that i couldn't possibly sum up all that has happened to me. in my first 24 hours, i was introduced to my school, went through what felt like weeks of training in mere hours, and found an apartment. i've ridden on the back of a motor scooter and gone to the top of the tallest building in the world. i've eaten shrimp whole, learned minimal chinese, and realized that i pretty much don't know anything. remember that time i worked at starbucks and actually knew what i was doing?

people don't live by rules here. they have guidelines, and the rest is up to you. unless you're eating in the mrt. then there are rules. they sort of follow the traffic lights and sort of park in designated places. pedestrians sort of have the right-of-way and people sort of work the usual hours.

people here are accommodating and exceptionally kind. today, while "getting lost" on the mrt, i talked to a half dozen 16 year olds. they wanted to know all about me: where i was from, why i was in taipei, where i lived, where i worked, whether or not i liked the city... they giggled at my broken chinese and oohed and ahhed at my clothes and nose piercing. the older people around us just smiled. i disembarked the train with a chorus of "goodbyes" following me. though i barely understand anyone or anything around me, they have the keen ability of making me feel like i'm home.

the city just feels grungy, all day, every day. it's a combination of the poor air quality, the oppressive humidity, the constant odor of something burning, and the generally dirty streets. it's not grungy like "trash" grungy. stores are clean, i've yet to get food poisoning, and people are well-groomed. it's as if there simply isn't enough time or space to hose down the sidewalks or send a street sweeper through.

i feel very conspicuous all the time. i feel like i'm constantly being watched, not in a menacing way, but in a curious way. no matter how confident i look as i walk down the streets or how much chinese i might learn, i've realized that i will always stand out as a foreigner. the last time i felt this naked in public was on the buses of new cross gate and peckham rye. they all looked at me as if that simply wasn't my part of london, and during those times, part of me felt like they were right. children stare... they're fascinated by everything about me. older people smile at me politely, but always in such a way that reflects they they know, absolutely, that i have no idea what i'm doing.

i think that when i went to london, i just wasn't ready. looking back, i appreciate that time, but i feel that maybe i was just too young. it was a combination of things... being away from jeff, undertaking 6 months instead of 3, feeling pressured to go out, and being moderately afraid. i feel that one year would have made a huge difference. it took almost half the time i was there for me to truly enjoy the experience. though i understand nobody and nothing here, i feel so ready to be here. i'm fine with sitting quietly by myself, with being consumed with work by day, eating a quiet dinner, exploring, reading up on the city, shopping at the local markets. it's like a scavenger hunt to see if i can find the place that has what i'm looking for. i'm less afraid, less pressured, more flexible. i look forward to what the year brings, and am excited for further adventures.

for your viewing pleasure:
<--- taipei 101
<---- taipei (aka home) <---- me atop taipei 101 <---- chiang kai-shek memorial

it's 11:21

"logic is the art of going wrong with confidence."
or so the saying goes.

and i'm seriously going on 19 hours of alertness/coherence. i'd go to sleep, but i'm afraid i'll wake up without my shit.

now, good travelers, you would think that the los angeles airport would be semi-dead at this hour. after all, it is a tuesday night and it is nearly midnight. but oh no. in actuality, my friends, it is its own private hell. it's hot, it's stuffy, it's loud, and i am squished into a tiny corner of the airport because, high five(!), i managed to find an open outlet. also, because i couldn't find an open seat next to my gate. we don't board for another hour and a half, so i thought i'd make the most of the money i spent on t-mobile access earlier today.

and i'm mildly amused watching people run to make their flights. you'd be surprised that some can move as fast as they do. also, one would think that it's logical that, if gates are numbered 101-123, 101 would be first. nay, my friends. 101 is on the other side of the terminal, and 123 is the most accessible gate. i hate you, lax.

long gone are the days of sitting in dead silence as i wait for my ryanair/easyjet flight to board.

the panic attacks have subsided for the time being.






on a serious note, i want to ask you all for some prayer. i found out today that my mom's best friend has pancreatic cancer. while she is a believer, it pains us all to see her this way. she's a lovely person... one of my favorite people, in fact. and while we all know the Lord is in control, my heart breaks for her family and for my mother. this is bad, you guys. please be in prayer for her. while this situation seems dire, we are trying to keep in mind that God works outside of time and space. in his infinitude and grace, i am reminded that nothing is impossible and nothing is beyond Him. nothing. not even cancer.

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.

i'm gonna miss you, like i miss the ocean when i go to sleep, man it's gonna break my heart - mason jennings

"the first cut is the deepest."
or so the saying goes.

today's predominant topic of conversation was a reflection of the difficulty of finding truly faithful people. nobody's perfect, but i've realized how much i've come to accept a second-string role. not that acceptance doesn't frustrate me at times. i'm simply well-acquainted with the concept of other people getting picked over me. i think i can be a good friend, but i do realize that i become increasingly apathetic when i start to notice a few patterns. things like: not getting a phone call, making plans and having them broken for other people (unless it's the queen of england, this really shouldn't happen, and even then, you might want to ask if your friend can come along), consistently having others picked before me, or general boredom. yes, even in college, it turns out that some social constructs really never change.

my mom always used to tell me that i should feel lucky if i can find one truly faithful person who will always, no matter what, pick me first. she said a good way to conceptualize this is to imagine every person i know has won an amazing, all-expense paid trip to hawaii, but can only take one person. who do i think they'd pick? if i think it would be me, there's my answer. the disheartening truth is, however, that one of those people is moving away in about two weeks. i've said it once, twice, a dozen times, and i'll reiterate: i'm absolutely not okay with it. i'm going to feel a profound void when she's gone. she's my ally. my solution for today, however, is to live in denial.

i've usually been an advocate of many chances. and i know as well as anyone that nobody's perfect. but i'm finding that as school begins to fade away, i need to be more selective about some of the people in my life. not selective about who i should treat with kindness. that's everyone. or about who i should see, because i will see or spend time with a variety of people. but about who i feel is worth my genuine effort. about what i say. and about surrounding myself with people who encourage, edify, and challenge me. those people are difficult to find, but they are worth more than 10 of those who make me feel anxious or insecure.

the church, christians, and the gross unpopularity of believing

"not all who wander are lost."
or so the saying goes.

"augustine just woke up with a broken heart
all this time, he's never been awake before
at thirty-one his whole world is a question mark
all this time, he's never been awake before

watching dreams that he once had
feed the flame inside his head
in the quiet desperation of the emptiness he said,
'there's got to be something more, than what i'm living for
i'm crying out to You...'"

nearly 3 years ago, i read augustine's confessions. and while i maintain that he's a bit dry, there was something about his story that captivated me, that felt like an iron clasp on my soul. i would never claim to know as much, to ever hope to change the world as much as he did, or even that i think as hard as he did, but i related to the things he said. growing up with a mother that believed fervently in God and practiced her religion with devotion, augustine found himself rebelling against her faith. he loved and respected her, but there was something about it that he could not accept, could not feel, could not practice with sincerity. so he searched, and made numerous bad choices in the process. he ran from God and from religion as he understood it. even though his mother tried and pleaded, he couldn't - wouldn't - change. it wasn't for many years and after many, many poor decisions that he found himself before God, finally humbled. i have always felt that the most remarkable, powerful part of the story is not that he was lost and then was found, nor that he was blind and then saw. rather, i felt something when he was alone in a garden that one day, the day that everything changed. augustine, a man who thought he was too smart for everyone else, especially for tradition and God as his mother followed Him, cried out because he had reached the end of himself. because something inside his soul ached for what he knew he did not have, what he had been escaping for so long. i love that it defied logical explanation, that it was so intangible, but from which he could no longer hide.

i feel vindicated by augustine, because his belief in God was something that simply happened - a burst of faith that he later intellectualized. i walk so much by faith, perhaps not enough by academic and intellectual realization. i feel pulled, that there must be something more, that i can't run, yet there are aspects of christianity that i run away from, even hide from. augustine couldn't practice traditionally, but he knew God's presence when his soul cried out that day.

for the past year, perhaps even longer, i feel like i've been in the midst of an existential crisis. i've decided to stop attending church, and have spent significantly more time with people who have differing points of view on religion, faith, spirituality, the works. at times, i have even asked myself why i keep following Jesus. to those who don't see why this is a big deal, i think some perspective is necessary. while it's safe to say that temecula is a bubble, there exists dozens of sub-layers of bubbles beneath that one. there is temecula. then long-time temecula residents. then church-goers. then home-schoolers. and to top it all off, there are the home-schoolers of cornerstone academy - the christian home-schooling community where i spent 12 glorious years of my life. yes, i grew up in bubbles within bubbles. to those who think this must have been cruel, you misunderstand me. i liked being home-schooled. i liked growing up in the church. i wouldn't change any of it. when i'm honest, it's probably good, because i might have turned out to be a terror without such a morally strict community. with all this background, it's strange for me that i find myself so far away from where i once was. to some, it might seem natural, but to me, it's difficult.

i think the reason i haven't walked away from it all, however, is that, fundamentally, i believe in Jesus, what He said, and what He lived, died, and lived again for. my problem, i suppose, is all the small, unimportant characteristics of christianity today. church feels like it's so much about saying or doing or knowing the right thing, that it doesn't even feel sincere for me to participate. i sing the words, but they're simply words. i don't feel them resonate in my soul anymore. the jargon is probably what bothers me the most. things like: "God put it on my heart to..."
i've always hated phrases like that, because it makes anything that follows it irrefutable. if you told me God told you to do something, am i going to argue with you? me, argue against the very voice of God? and when i'm struggling with something - with a job, a relationship, school - i don't need to hear that it's because i'm not in communion enough with God, because i haven't gone to church, or because i don't pray enough. unfortunately, these are all cookie-cutter, classic aspects of christians today. they make me writhe with frustration, because people who struggle or who don't hold fast to that sort of faith in God cannot relate. i can't have a discussion with someone who hasn't found his or her place in the cosmic hugeness of God and tell that person that i heard God, that i know what God told me. i also feel silly making such assumptions. i believed God's will was a lot of things, and the majority of them have blown up in my face, revealing new purpose and direction in my life. so i've stopped feeling that in my heart, that i know that this is what God wants because His ways aren't mine. i tell others that some things make sense or that i believe everything happens for a reason and that God is intimately connected with my existence, but i don't claim to know what's going on. for all the bad/unexpected things that have happened in my life, i am grateful for their results, and i choose to abide by a good attitude and constant movement.

my problem lies with christian sub-culture rather than the faith itself. we separate ourselves with fences made of jargon, cross necklaces, and the gross blatancy that we disapprove of the vast stupidity of humans.

true, it seems counterproductive to assign such a cliche to something to which i align my life and even claim to be my salvation. and it's fair enough that postmodern culture is effective enough at this without my help. i would argue that the labels are unfair, but we often make ourselves easy targets. just browse websites like myspace or have a trivial conversation or two. we're easy to spot. our favorite books consist of the purpose-driven life and the bible, or maybe a little c.s. lewis if you're very lucky. it angers me to see "blue like jazz" as the "best book ever" and no mention of dickens or plath or flannery or tolstoy or chaucer or homer or austen. we just make it so easy, because we don't venture outside of the comfortable. we say "f-ing" when the whole world knows that what we really mean is "fucking." and of course, there's the constant talk of "praise the Lord," "grace," and true "love." yet the terms are so steeped in subcultural meanings that they have disintegrated into mere words, void of any genuine meaning or action. we speak of grace, but quickly shake our heads without listening or trying to understand. the world is full of black and white, but many people only feel the judgment, the lack of redemption, the inherent absence of His-ness in their relationships with christians.

i believe that, deep down, we are seeking righteousness. we do love others, but we present ourselves in all the wrong ways. we don't let them get too close, lest we be termed hypocrites. i've discovered in all the most painful ways that being wrong is not hypocritical if you can own up to it, if you can tell someone when they're wrong, yet admit your shortcomings as well. love God. follow Him whole-heartedly. know your faith. know that there is black and white, not just gray. seek His will, and actively pursue intimacy and purpose. but be still as well. find out what makes a person move, and they will want to know what moves you. and He, if He is real and if He is there, will pique their interest, will open them up to who He is and what it means to follow.

i pray sincerely, the way that i know how, the way that feels natural. separate yourself from the subculture, as tempting as it is. and be.




on a separate, though related, topic, i wanted to touch on another phenomena that i have observed about modern intellectual culture. these are the qualities of spirituality, non-commitment, and homogeneity. we claim that the world would be fine so long as people would seek inner peace or religion would separate itself from all other faculties - from education, politics, entertainment. what i don't understand is why, when we are so critical of religion, so detailed about how it contradicts itself, we are so vague about how we see purpose in our lives. it's as though a person can't possibly hope to live progressively if one has a religion or hasn't invented one's own spirituality - a spirituality which states that nobody's wrong and nobody's right. except maybe buddhism. but even buddhists are radical. they lock themselves up in monastaries, seeking enlightenment, because they are so convinced that their ways are right.

one of my best friends (my best friend?) is catholic. we talk about religion all the time, because we both ascribe to a set of beliefs. i am protestant because i believe luther was right, though i appreciate a lot about the catholic church. about commitment. about beauty and tradition. we talk about how uncool we are for picking a side. what people hate to admit is that committing to a side means that we think we're right and they're wrong. it must. it doesn't mean we don't respect those who choose otherwise, nor will we kill someone who contradicts us. but we will tell them that they're wrong. there is something wrong with a society that lives only by personal conviction - by only personal spirituality, which won't admit anyone is right or wrong. religion forces a series of pleasant and unpleasant tasks to each of us. it forces us to be outside of ourselves, to align ourselves and be responsible to more than simply what is inside our heads. to stand up or sit down. to surrender ourselves. to love others. because our faith in God and our adherence to His will commands that we do so. because we believe that such a commitment yields absolute truth.

in a world of radicalism, i find it ironic that we lack the motivation to be radical about the state of our souls or about truth. we pick sides all the time, but somehow lack the ability to do so in religion.



as i step into my future, i am slowly finding how much i pray for what augustine had. i pray for the conviction to cry out to God, to stick to God, to know God, to yield to God. i pray that God will humble me as he was humbled; i pray for a broken heart that finds its only solace in Him. i pray for the ability to say "yes, there is one God, only one way, and i know it. i surrender." i pray against mere personal philosophy, mere inner peace, mere spirituality. yet i also pray for his cynicism towards the concept that all must know Him the same way, for his inability to simply slip into what christianity appears to be rather than what it means. i pray for his sincerity, for his desire to know God because He is God, not because it's simply what christians do, what appears holiest. and i pray that my genuine commitment to a genuine faith is what motivates others towards God, not a mere attempt to adhere to goodness nor an ability to hide my shortcomings from others. i pray.

"...augustine, all his fears keep falling out
all this time, he's never been awake before
finding out all his dreams aren't panning out
all this time, he's never been awake before

but he's glad to be alive
and he's dying to be met
in the quiet desperation of the emptiness he said,
'there's got to be something more, than what i'm living for
i'm crying out to You

hey, i give it all away
nothing i was holding back remains
hey, i give it all away
looking for the grace of God today...'"
-switchfoot

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.

my body... the new currency?

"one man's trash is another man's treasure."
or so the saying goes.

last thursday, i was privileged to spend an enjoyable, memorable, and i dare say legendary weekend in las vegas with some good friends. despite the inconvenient truth that my financial situation can only be described as dismal, i went anyway, hoping that i'd be able to afford everything if i'm extra-conscious of my spending habits and expenses. i then thanked God that i own a credit card to get me by until my next few paychecks come in and the bills slow down a bit. ironically, i lost said credit card in a nightclub while i was dancing, and was told that i would get another one in about 10 business days. whoopsy-daisy. to my credit, despite my stupidity, i did have the presence of mind to cancel it even though i could barely remember where i lived at the time. i suppose identity theft and impending credit doom has an uncanny ability to sober a person up. and because of all my experiences with credit cards and disappearing personal effects in london, i am now a pro at this damage control thing.

to my pleasant surprise, however, and despite the unfortunate loss of my hallowed platinum card, i left vegas having spent less than $150 on my entire weekend, including food, hotel, gasoline, and entertainment.

in truth, this seems almost impossible, since i was there two nights and visited approximately four nightclubs. i realized that this is because i didn't have to pay to get into any of the clubs, much less for any alcohol i drank once i got there. upon discussing this with my fellow travelers, i understood that this is because we are all physically appealing, so nightclubs are eager to let us in for free. the general concept is that, if they let us in, or girls like us in, men who pay for entrance will spend money on us. ergo, even though we're not paying a cover charge, the casino is still making money because men are spending it on us. and i realized, for the first time in a while, that, essentially, i was trading my looks for free alcohol and entertainment.

on its most basic level, isn't this what post-feminist culture has been fighting for the whole time? the right to look and feel great and have it confirmed? to be fair, in the nightclub, everyone wins: the club makes money, we get free entertainment, and the guys who may or may not have anything to offer get a chance to meet pretty girls. as a feminist, despite the liberation that comes with understanding my feminine appeal, and of course the basic human instinct that free shit is inherently good, it bothers me somewhere in the recesses of my mind that i traded my looks for my vacation. as feminists, we chant the common mantra that we're equal to men. we're independent. we don't need them any more than they need us. and we admit that there is something empowering about being able to command a guy's attention.

i suppose my qualms lie with my realization that my looks can be so easily converted into a currency. that it's like a variation of prostitution that i'm employing to get what i want. it is this aspect of feminism that often confuses me. we fight so hard for men to view us as equals, as strong people, as individuals and not sex objects. yet we have no trouble being "traded" and "sold" for a vacation. the lines become so blurry sometimes that it's difficult to find where the boundaries lie, where our principles stand. we would all agree that sexual harrassment is wrong in a professional environment, or in any environment where it's not invited. but the invitations become so ambiguous. there's a rather large gap between completely ignoring the opposite sex and actually forcing intercourse upon them. we want to take a chance, to test the boundaries, but the discrepancy in our actions is striking.

does the environment make everything completely different? does it all depend on what our agenda is, because if equality is what we want, shouldn't a man's agenda be just as relevant to the boundaries as ours? why does our word trump his -- isn't that unequal? are we making up for the years and years of patriarchy? our own form of affirmative action?

furthermore, if we are to claim that we, as women, ought to be honored and respected, shouldn't appearance be irrelevant? shouldn't we be fighting for women everywhere, claiming that beauty is about so much more than the surface? or is that something we do on a daily basis - just not in a place like vegas?

we constantly blame men for breaking the rules, but it's pretty clear that we set them, and that we're capable of many completely different sets of rules, sometimes even in the same day. perhaps it is all just situational. some things have to be, after all. but what we want seems to fluctuate so much that it seems unreasonable, if not completely irrational to come down so hard on guys, labeling them a certain way because they don't always understand what's going on. some do, and they are wrong in the way they look at us. but what is it, exactly, that drives a person like me who wants so desperately to be viewed as independent, strong, professional, and intelligent, to outright exploitation of my looks and sexuality for what i want.