i just got

jay chou's secret in the mail today. how excited am i to share its amazingness with the world around me?

there are no words.

as a preview:


or: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cbSeZh6apVk

also, this isn't ashlee simpson status... he really is that bona-fide awesome. he's some sort of taiwanese musical prodigy, apparently.

question.

has nobody in the western world heard of jay chou's secret? oh netflix, how you disappoint me.

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.

i said goodbye

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

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

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

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

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

notes 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

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

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

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

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

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

note 2

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

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

note

fyi:
packing to traipse the globe + quitting job + moving = AHHHHHHHH!

p.s. going to the dentist cost me all of nothing this weekend. this is either because of the insurance or because i work as usas. they remembered me from all those trips with the kids.
still. huzzah!

"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.

mommy! mommy! look! it's a waiguoren!

"their bark is worse than their bite."
or so the saying goes.

i suppose that's fortunate for many taiwanese people. actually, my taiwanese friends have told me that we foreigners are nicer than we ought to be.

after being in taiwan a year, i've learned to live by a "go with the flow" kind of lifestyle. in general, most things have completely stopped bothering me. rabid dog? almost got hit by a scooter? oh, dead cockroach on the restaurant floor? it's all part of being here.

one thing i have never quite accepted, however, is being stared at. taiwan has made me extremely aware of how white i am. even more aware than new cross, and that's saying a lot! children stare at me wide-eyed. they point... waiguoren! i want to say, 'kid i know what you're saying!' but i just keep on walking. and i wouldn't mind the kids if adults, real adults, didn't stare at me so often. sometimes, on mrts or buses, they'll switch seats when i sit down. most of the time, they'll just skip over me and sit next to another taiwanese person. and on very rare occasions, they'll come to sit down, have a glance at me, process for a good second that i'm a waiguoren, then choose to stand instead. i can almost see the inner debate... stand or sit next to her? stand or sit next to her.... errrrrrr.... stand!

in such situations, there's really a mutual discomfort going on.

for being such naturally shy people, however, i'm amazed by how often i've been approached for random things. several times, i've been offered a job. on occasion, people have asked me questions about my culture or my experience in taiwan for a school assignment. and a few times, people have simply asked me to be their friend, usually because they want to practice their english. the first and third have always seemed silly to me, because for all they know, i could be psychotic.

but the best and funniest incident happened over the weekend. i went on an outing south of taipei with the teachers at my school. we saw a famous waterfall, wrote our wishes on balloons and sent them into the sky, ate a lot of taiwanese food, and generally just got some cleaner air.

and somewhere along the line, this happened:









now the strange thing about this situation was not that complete strangers asked allison and me to take a picture with them. that's a very common thing. rather, i found it unique that they were all guys. i've gotta say that after spending a significant amount of time here, that has happened to me all of ZERO times before. most taiwanese men react to me in one of the following ways:
1. invisibility
2. apathy
3. sheer terror

look. laugh. be envious.

juno

"it's not you, it's me."
or so the saying goes.

i finally got to see juno this weekend. after months of hearing good things and no premiere date in sight, it finally came out in taipei.
most of the time, i don't go to movies unless someone suggests it to me. i'm not sure why this is. also, english films are intolerably loud here. geez, if we weren't deaf before we started watching, we certainly are now!

i've gotta say that i expected more. of what, i'm not sure. it was sweet and enjoyable and awkward like teenage romance tends to be, but maybe i just wanted a more profound experience. or message.
i really liked the soundtrack, though.

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.

oh snap

i have 20 more days of work. 20! one month from today, i will be traipsing through the absolute middle of nowhere, asia. the cusp of civilization... oh, i'm so excited. i mostly want to see if the sky gets any bluer than that.

apparently, russia approved my visa. which is great. even though it took 4 weeks.

i spent today in fulong. it's always weird to see the pacific from the other side. i keep hoping that it's bluer or warmer or that maybe it smells different here, but it's the same. and maybe that's why i love it so much.

this past week was strange. we're down to only women at work. i suddenly have seniority. and i got absurdly ill on thursday. it was a fever and a cold or something, but mostly, i think it was pure, uninhibited, unadulterated exhaustion. and it knocked me flat for nearly 24 hours. i don't think i've ever slept that much.

also, chinese medicine is amazing.
but it tastes like ground chalk.
and goes down just as smoothly.

it's the small things that matter

or so i've heard it said.

in general, i consider most things to be over-appreciated. appearance. money. fashion trends (not to be confused with fashion). large things (beds, cars, closets, refrigerators).

and conversely, i consider other things to be sorely under-appreciated. hot water. underwear. television on dvd. the quesadilla.


and lately, one more thing.

behold, the guava:














while it's everywhere, i mean under-appreciated like apples are in our culture. they're just... there. say you're standing amongst an array of fruit, and your choices are strawberries, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries, and apples. which one do you pick? i'll bet it's not the apples!
guava is similar here. mango season comes, and BAM... guava? what's guava? it also will not get picked over dragon fruit, star fruit, kiwi, or pineapple.



i really couldn't tell you why guava wasn't a regular part of my diet back home. wait, yes i can. because you don't find it at home. you eat things like watermelon, strawberries, apples, grapes, and bananas. not guava.

it's a simple fruit. it contains no potency, no zing. but i have to say it's one of the most consistent aspects of my experience in taiwan. even when mango failed me on both the fresh and ice sand level, i don't remember there being a time when i couldn't get guava. and every time i eat it, the better it tastes.

so easily forgettable. so underwhelming in taste and appearance. but time after time, when my body starts screaming for something that isn't processed or greasy or rice, there it is at 7-11 or in the school kitchen, sitting there, staring at me, reminding me of how much better i'll feel when i have some.

mix it with a little prune powder and a half dozen cherry tomatoes, and you have something i'll definitely miss when i go home.

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.

oh, no. no, no, no.

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

i apologize in advance if this blog is too graphic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God bless valentine's day.


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

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

this is why i'm hot

"and they lived happily ever after."
or so the saying goes.

seriously, you guys, i'm an awesome story-teller. i've never been good at public speaking and i've never considered myself to be very captivating at parties and/or other occasions of the sort. really, i work with good material... london, homeschooling, my injury, rinjani... it's all gold. and also, i have an uncanny ability to remember tv shows and movies. topics like the office are a great fall-back. but something about teaching has transformed me into a natural and interesting story-teller. my kids love my stories... little red riding hood, cinderella, jack and the beanstalk. okay, so they're not my stories. but i will tell you, many of my kids have heard them a hundred times... they groan when i pull them out... but i remind them that, though they know the story, they've never heard it the way I tell it. for about 20 minutes, it's silent as they listen.

yes, i'm going to be awesome when i'm a mom.

so you should definitely watch this clip to see what i do every day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsEXCS1vSUw

a news program came to the school and took video of me talking to the kids and telling them a story. and it looks pretty sweet online.

FUN FACT: in the shots of me talking to the two boys, jonas and benson, they're relating to me the epic of star wars, complete with characters, as told to them by teacher chris during story time. firstly, how awesome is it that 5 year-olds in taiwan love star wars? and secondly, how awesome is it that they're so enthralled in making sure i know the story too?
i was told to keep them talking, no matter what the subject was, and i asked a few questions, but nothing could keep a dialogue going long. until i asked them to tell me everything they knew about star wars. then they couldn't seem to say enough.

a very merry un-christmas to you

"hallelujah!"
or so the saying goes.

over the years, i've heard a lot of dissent about christmas in the states; about how it's too capitalistic, too consumer-driven. as a culture, we've been bombarded with story upon story about the true meaning of christmas, which always, in the same trite manner, drills into our minds that we've completely missed the point.

and all this is true.

but now i just want to tell western culture and all the proverbial grinches of my generation to stop bitching.




as an american, the idea of a non-existent christmas has always been unfathomable to me. our entire culture embraces it. from christmas music, to holiday specials, to decorations anywhere and everywhere, to nativity displays, to christmas trees at the mall, to starbucks' red cups, american society whole-heartedly welcomes christmas. in fact, i like it, because, for a short time, everybody is happy. albeit more-than-usually stressed out, but exceptionally jovial.



cut to culture that barely acknowledges christmas' existence. the teachers at my school, in fact, all worked on christmas. we had the option of taking the day off because, from what they understand, christmas is sort of important to us. so we did. and they tried feebly to bring the christmas spirit into school, but nobody understood the decorations or the color schemes or the music or talk of searching for the true meaning or even WHERE SANTA CLAUS COMES FROM! december 25 passed by like any other day here. nobody stopped or said a prayer or took a moment to reflect. they just kept moving, leaving us foreigners paralyzed, immobile, completely destroyed by a holiday spirit famine. christmas was void of all the things that make it so wonderful back home. it's like i'd slept an entire month.

but at least i had the day off. i went to a christmas party with chris and some of his friends on christmas eve, where we played yankee swap with white elephant presents, read the nativity story, and sang christmas carols. and ate mongolian barbecue.
i read cards sent to me by my thoughtful friends back home. i don't think they realize how much a few words lifted my terribly downtrodden spirits here.
i opened presents from my family, full of scarves and gift cards and perfumes and DVD's with all my favorite tv shows, because the only thing for me to watch here is cnn, bbc, or movies with subtitles.
chris and i had a christmas breakfast and exchanged gifts. and while i don't think i'm any good at giving presents, he wasn't exaggerating when he said he was, as my jade bracelet is glorious.
i ate myself into a food coma with rachel and annie on christmas day. we shopped and talked about home and took pictures and soaked up what little holiday spirit could be derived from our environment.


so even if you think christmas is misunderstood, i can honestly testify that it is infinitely better than no christmas at all.