um.

i bought my plane ticket to prague today.

the usual anxiety is starting again. hard to say if it's better than before i went to taipei. and one day, i will master it, just as i've conquered other travel-related fears. i figure that once i've had almost everything stolen from me, things can't get much worse, right? right. suffice it to say, the anxiety is ebbed by the fact that i always sleep with one strap of my bag wrapped around an arm, and the bag is always on the side with the wall. you think i'm kidding, but i'm so not.

generally, i will tell you right now that i have no idea where the money has come from, or will come from for that matter. but it always comes. my bank account is like Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fish. this happened to me in europe. and again around month 2 in taiwan. and then again when i was planning for my trip to russia. i always look at the money and think, there's no possible logical way i'm going to do this. but without fail, $20 seems to stretch into hundreds, though i've never been good at doing the math on how this takes place.

a few months in prague. then it's hard to say, but i will figure out where God meant for me to be. i have so many bright ideas about what's going to happen and so few ideas about how i'm going to do it.

but the certainty that i'm supposed to go searching for what it is constantly sits in the back of my mind. it makes my legs twitch and my fingers ache. it gives me euphoric dreams and horrifying nightmares. makes me notice everyone and no one. i feel like my soul sees with so much clarity that i might go absolutely, intellectually mad.

i'm just hoping that i'm wandering in the right direction.

tag-action

the bigger mystery is whether or not you're going to believe this stuff.
1. i was run over by a truck and lived to tell about it.
2. i climbed an active volcano in indonesia, and almost froze to death in the process. in the summer. also, i couldn't move for a day afterward.
3. i once gave a speech at a kmt rally in taiwan. in chinese. sort of. plus, i met the guy that later became the president, who probably spoke english better than me. it was not a day of personal greatness.
4. i am uncommonly good at remembering quotes and conversations, especially things i hear on television. i have to restrain myself, because i'm pretty sure i have the capacity to creep people out.
5. i keep realizing that i have now been single for over 2 years. on a very technical, label-dependent level, anyway.
i really don't want to talk about it.
6. i've always thought i had an addiction to pasta, but lately i'm starting to believe it's actually tomatoes. for serious. i eat some form of tomato every day, sometimes more than once, and would probably eat more if i could.
7. 108 hours is the longest i've gone without a shower. this was not so much a choice as it was forced upon me by the russian rail network. and p.s. there is no good way to appear even moderately hygienic after 108 hours on the trans-siberian.

aaron and kirsten choate, nicole, sarah, edward, dano, and myers, you're up. everybody else has already been tagged elsewhere.

lord, beer me self-control.

my name is joy, and today i spent way too much money at anthropologie.

i keep trying to tell myself i'm not angry, but i so am.

still lazy, and still lame. i keep wanting to believe that maybe i expect too much, but i don't. i really, really don't. why am i so bad at being angry? i could understand it if it didn't bother me anymore, but it does. and i could understand it if i had a poor reason to be, but i don't. or even if it didn't hurt that much, but it does. no matter how many times i've tried to find a loophole in this whole being angry thing, i can't.

which, of course, isn't about just one thing, but about many things, some related and some not, which simply make me tired, angry, and consequently determined.

truly, i was excited to be back, and i like america okay, but i'm realizing how foolish it was to believe that there was anything to be anxious about here. absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes you forget all the important stuff that drove you away in the first place.

and why all the same problems, re-disguised as something far more interesting or forgivable, aren't okay anymore.

prague is in january. and at last i will be away, relieved, past... whatever you call it. because i just can't stand it.
again.

things which do not put me in a good mood.

when i was 18, some things happened, and after a whole incident that included a truck, i ended up hospitalized but alive.

the sad thing is that the people responsible have more or less told me to shake it off.

and in the grand scheme, some days, like today, have been exceptionally shitty. you see, even though this happened 4 years ago, i spend whole days unable to feel some of my toes. for those who don't know, this has nothing to do with my toes, and everything to do with some nerves and discs in my lower back.

and also, 4 years later, i get rejected by insurance companies, and sometimes, to add insult to injury (literally, hah!), this happens on the same day that my toes are numb.

there's no good way to shake that off.

today really could have been better.

emotional masochism?

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

no time! no time!

for months, i've been suffering from severe insomnia. for a while, i thought it was stress or too much caffeine or anticipation. but the days and weeks have come and gone, and nothing's changed.

sometimes, while i lay alone in the dark, i put my hand on my chest, and i can feel my heart racing erratically. "calm down," i tell myself. there's nothing to worry about. yet it beats so wildly that i'm certain i'll die. i try and try to close my eyes, but sleep won't come. i try to write down my thoughts. what's wrong? did i forget something? will i get my life together enough these next few weeks? what if rachel and i don't make it into the program? is it him?

the anxiety weighs on me, even in my dreams. i toss and turn, wishing i could forget about my day, or my exhaustion, or the fact that i don't feel like i'm ready for this summer. wishing that, so long as my eyes are closed and i am, at least physically, sleeping, the anxiety will lift and i will feel free, unburdened, and excited.

my room is a disaster right now, full of half-done things. my half-done visa process. half-packed suitcases. books strewn about, because i've only half-decided to give them to angie and half-resolved myself to keeping them. half-answers on moving out, id cards, and international sims. the fact that this cursed mother's day event is only half-done, and chris' half-completed present occupying my desk and the end of my bed.

i calculated today. i teach 5 classes every morning, and 1 class every afternoon. except, last semester i was teaching 3, so let's average it to 2. i also teach 1 class every night, but that doesn't include when i was carrying double class loads after chad left. according to my calculations, i teach 8 classes a day, 40 classes a week, 160 classes a month, and it seems up to this point, over 1,600 classes this past year. i'd never done the math until now. and each day, like clockwork, i feel pressured to invent some new idea for them, to make learning fun and entertaining, so that they forget that their life of academic misery is only beginning.

and each day, the same things wear on me a little more. i'm very, plainly, completely dry. i've heard the expression "i've got nothing left to give" and i always thought it was an excuse. it's not. sometimes, while standing during the morning's song, i'm certain that i'll pass out right there on the spot, because i'm just drained.

but it's only 6 more weeks.

i wasn't meant to be cool

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when i become such a wuss?

it's all the small things that lead to one big thing

"it was the straw that broke the camel's back."
or so the saying goes.

i never understood that when i was younger, but life in taiwan has truly shown me the profundity of those words. especially when 70% of my job consists of "just one more thing..."

i definitely cried at work today. this has never happened before, not even when i was adjusting to everything. i guess you could say that, in a way, today broke me. i was so excited that i wouldn't have to prepare another demo class, only to get a phone call that i would be doing so in 15 seconds and counting. oh, and i was, i'm not exaggerating one bit, walking out the door. half of me even contemplated not picking up the phone at all, though the other half knew what was going to happen as soon as it rang. i taught my class, and my kids were horrible. terrible. the naughtiest they've ever been. because they know that when a parent is watching, i can't discipline them the way i normally would. if i'd been alone, they would have been standing against the wall so fast, they wouldn't have known what hit 'em. but oh, they know. they know that chris has them after me, so i REALLY can't do much.

so afterwards, i went up to the office, searched for the homework sheets, which i couldn't find, and then sobbed by myself for a good 3-5 minutes. unhindered. uninhibited. just some solitary sobbing, because i'm exhausted. really, truly exhausted. i've been pushed to the edge, with all the "just one more thing"s in my life. because i want my kids to do well, and if they don't, i take it on as my own failure.

to be honest, my kids really aren't that bad. it's just that my nerves are completely shot. i listen to crying all morning and sometimes all afternoon: wo yao wo mama! keyi ma? wo yao wo mama! keyi ma? wo yao wo mama! keyi ma?
YOU WANT YOUR MOM! I HEARD YOU! how about this: WO SHI NI XIN MAMA! i'm your new mama, kid! HOW ABOUT THAT!
though actually, i kinda like that kid. he's very sweet, just really young. then, one of the new kids doesn't like to wear socks. so he leaves them all over school. and while he doesn't really know his english name yet, i do find it hilarious that his mom calls almost every day that he's forgotten some random article of clothing, which later resurfaces in the ball pool or the toy box or the bathroom.
with all the crying kids, half of my older students are acting out for attention and the other half are trying really hard to befriend me. which is weird, because the ones that suddenly want my affections are the ones who didn't give a crap 2 weeks ago.
and then one screamed and stomped her feet because i was standing too close to her and i'm a foreigner. and she doesn't like foreigners. at 3 years old. she's 3! and i wasn't talking to her anyway! i was talking to my kids, the ones who tell me that they love me. at which point, my chinese teacher proceeded to tell the student that if she didn't stop having a tantrum, she would make me hold her hand and feed her. six months ago, i wouldn't have known the difference, but now i actually understand what they're telling the kids. and forgive me if i'm wrong, but a kid has issues if her idea of fate worse than death is having the white teacher help her eat her snack.

all of it together has completely destroyed my nerves. i'm so jumpy that i can barely listen to my older students saying hello to me. they chant it when i walk into the room, and my heart starts to race wildly. can people die of over-stimulation and emotional taxation?

it's weird to cry alone at work and not really be alone.

nobody was in the room, but we have monitors everywhere. big brother is watching, so i never fool myself into thinking i have privacy anywhere but a bathroom stall. nor did i have the emotional fortitude to care at the time. i pulled myself together enough to go to my next class, though a lot of people asked me over and over if i was ok for the rest of the day.

such overt displays of emotion have been quite the cultural experience in taiwan. in general, the taiwanese are not direct. so if someone yells or cries, they're not sure how to handle it. a few weeks ago, chris and i argued after the kids went home. we try to be direct with each other at work, because being in such close proximity would be really stressful if we weren't. everyone had gone home except for a few teachers downstairs when we started arguing. they told us when we went downstairs that they were certain one of us was going to quit. they were horrified watching things unfold on the monitor, though there was nothing horrific about it. we've explained to them over and over that arguments are helpful, and can actually make people better friends.

how do people get by without releasing things one in a while?

did i mention i'm beyond exhausted?
thank God it's friday.

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.

"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.

almost. part deux.

"when in doubt, don't."
or so the saying goes.

have you ever heard the expression "word vomit?" if you haven't, it's possible that it's not nearly as popular as i seem to think it is right now. or maybe you should just take some time out to watch "mean girls" to get a better understanding. and while lindsay lohan is on the fringe of what might biologically constitute "human," i do love that film.

there's a scene in which lindsay's character can't seem to hold in the truth about the queen "mean girl." she describes her explosion of truth as "word vomit." and then later in the film, it happens again, only she literally vomits. okay, so she was supposed to be drunk, but you get the idea.

i never really understood the expression. it never really made sense to me how one just couldn't stop oneself from saying something. as far as i could tell, there's nothing physical about it. it's simple mind over matter. that was until today. never, ever have i actually been so compelled to say something that i truly felt as though i'd vomit. i actually had to take a second or two. a moment to stop my brain from racing uncontrollably. i'm not sure when, exactly, i became this afraid of saying what i think. it's simple, straightforward to do so. yet i feel the need to swallow it.

almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but then again, i was only observing.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

verdict? totally worth it.

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

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

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

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




...except maybe the scooter accident.

not gonna lie...

"treat others as you want to be treated."
or so the saying goes.

i say that it didn't hurt, because it shouldn't have. i was purposely avoiding it. i pretend it didn't bother me. i feign to be more disdainful than i really am. i only smirk because i believe that everyone can see plainly that i'm merely pretending. it's an act, all of it. i act as if it's an inside joke only between you and me because we are the only people who know. you and me. you play along, because it's awkward. not just the kind of awkward that comes and goes because you and i come and go. the kind of awkward that you immediately want to obliterate because acknowledging it jeopardizes everything that comprises you and me. there can be no you and me, not even the simplest version of you and me, if that awkwardness seeps through. if it is remotely visible to those around us.

and i laugh, all the while hoping that i can control the spasms in my face long enough to make the obligatory eye contact with you, to force the smile out, when really, all i want to say is that you hurt my feelings. and i can hold that smile, if only for a fleeting instant - fortunately the only instant i need. but if i look at you longer than that, i know that you can see it. you can see my laughter metamorphose into vulnerability - the corners of my mouth twitching uncontrollably, the softening of my eyes from playful mockery to subtle dejection. if it's any longer than that moment. i may be blonde, or perhaps i was drunk, or maybe a few years of this has made me resilient or positive or hopeful, but i'm not indestructible. yet your eyes plead with me to be so, coax me to be so, manipulate me to be so, because, let's be reasonable, it wasn't long enough to hurt that much.

it is not, and has never been, as fine as we pretend it is. i know it, though i pretend i don't. and when you see my face after that short moment, that moment i can never seem to control, i think you know it, too.

i tell the truth here, to my non-existent blog-reader, because i otherwise lack the courage to say anything.

but i know, and now my blog knows, that it hurt. it really, deeply did.

i struggle with forward motion

"don't count your chickens before they've hatched."
or so the saying goes.

it's finally happening. i think i'm finally crashing. the truth is, i thought i was too far beyond this for it to catch up with me. anybody who knows me will tell you that i'm a fighter, that i believe i am in control of my circumstances. life, love, happiness, and being okay are a choice, and i actively choose them all. i'm of the "it's not something you feel, it's something you do" school of thought. truthfully, i have not shed a single tear since september 30, 2006. i had somehow convinced myself that it was a competition; i needed to care even less than he seemed to care that day. and i resolved myself to feeling nothing, because it didn't deserve my attention. as badly as i knew it hurt, i was not going to let it affect me, and i was going to make it make me into a better person.

the funny thing is that i have realized that there are an infinite number of ways to not have to confront a situation. i kept telling myself that i'd face it eventually.
after my birthday.
after that paper.
after that presentation.
after school.
after christmas.
when the new year came.
when i was back in orange county.
after i was done saying goodbye to kyle.
when heather got back from london.
after las vegas.
when i heard from the jet program.
when school began for everyone.
after i'd paid the bills.
after thursday night... next week.
after the jet interview.
maybe after i hung out with some people.
after my date.

it destroyed me inside to hear the things he said, in the manner in which he said them, a week after i told myself that i could do this.

so i supposed that if i could just feel beautiful, act beautiful, want to be beautiful, have others confirm that i'm beautiful, then ultimately, truthfully, deep down, i would be fine. and i thought that this time, this time, i had done something right, because i was more okay than i had ever been. the reality of my situation is, however, that nobody escapes such a confrontation without being hurt. and my choice would be to get hurt in the beginning, or later on, painfully all at once, or let it stretch out.

even though i know that a part of me has crashed inside, i haven't let myself cry, because i feel that, in some small way, that means he wins, that he mattered more to me than i did to him. and it infuriates me to my very core. it's a relief to know that i'm okay and that i am, honestly, over it. i know it every time i have a conversation with another guy, i can feel it, because i never, ever let myself think about him with even the slightest affection when i'm talking to someone else. and i never want to go back.

my friend told me today that it's okay: we're allowed to be sad because that's just part of the whole painful process. it doesn't make me any weaker. and i suppose i've finally come to terms with this. i think that a part of me is simply annoyed, put off if you will, that this occupies any of my thoughts at any time of the day, that i'm wasting any energy on it.

mentally, i know that it hurt. mentally, i know i'm okay with being sad and letting it go in the process. but something wells up inside me every time that blocks it, that tells me no no no no you will not succumb to this, because your life is so much better now. look, it's made you into a better person, so why cry? maybe one day i will cry; cry because it's simply part of acceptance. then again, maybe i won't have to. maybe every day, it seems a little more absurd to do so. i haven't decided how i feel, other than that i'm simply surprised, and perhaps simply disappointed. that's okay, right? it's okay to feel that way, isn't it?

maybe i'm simply having a bad week. i suppose we all have those once in a while. a bad day or a bad shift or a bad drunken experience or a bad date or a bad phone call or a bad meal. on so many levels, i feel a little like there's something off about my life, but i can't identify what it is. i'm in transition, on so many levels, and maybe every so often, we grasp for normalcy, for a time when we thought something was dependable. i've believed since as long as life got a little more complicated than it used to be, however, that movement is important; that so long as i move, i am open to wherever He might want to move me. i want to stave off complacency, to be excited, and to know that i'm ready for whatever happens next. we all doubt; it's a part of the human experience. and it's been one of those weeks when i simply wanted to grasp for something or someone who knows exactly what it feels like to go from knowing and having specific purpose and motivation to complete self-reliance. so long as everyone else has school and tests, i'm not sure that they can know. i've wanted so badly to talk to someone to can confirm that it's supposed to be this confusing, to feel this awkward. he understands, but opening that door jeopardizes all my progress.

people say that there is no God or that He left us all to our own devices, but i can't believe that is true. stop trying so hard to answer these questions, because He always provides. stop answering them your own way, for He will give them in a better way. i am trying to have more faith in the answers he provides, especially in all ways i don't expect. today, i was drinking coffee, and evan, who i never see, sat down with me at starbucks and we talked about how it feels to be done with school. it was good to know, if even on the surface, that my feelings weren't unusual, that it was okay to be confused and to struggle with motivation. movement. seek, and you will not go unanswered. desire and ask, and you will be satisfied.

i dare you to move
i dare you to move
i dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
i dare you to move
i dare you to move
like today never happened before

it's so difficult, when you just want to lie down and say "this will pass, it always does." and i believe it does, but it's not how i operate. but movement, saying "i'm ready to be better and i'm ready to do what i know is right, just please please answer me..." God has always answered me. and the desire to know in my own way dissipates.

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.