oh no!

i am officially booked for this summer... trains, buses, hostels, flights. everything except those effing visas. but otherwise all confirmed. i get back to the states on july 10. oh man.

i was reflecting for a moment on the utter pinnacle of gruel i will be consuming in my summer months. the taiwanese say that chinese food is dodgy. they also said the same about thai food, and i found thai food, even that of the dodgiest sort, to be immensely more appetizing than the so-called food i often eat in taiwan.

but even so, i might just have to become a vegetarian in china, as one can't be too careful when we're talking billions of socially and politically repressed people. maybe unlike taiwan, they actually find a use for all those stray dogs.

kidding!

but seriously, it will be onto mongolia. now i've had damn good mongolian barbecue, but i've seen pictures of ulaanbatar, and we are talking the fringe of civilization as we know it. i borders (literally and metaphorically) on all those -stan countries i have no desire to visit. kazakhstan. uzbekistan. turkmenistan. like polygon-shaped states, i avoid -stans. one can only imagine what they're going to dream up while i'm camping in the middle of nowhere and living, it seems, just like abraham. which is totally awesome, i might add. i've heard rumors of raw meat, which, even in my hungriest of states, i'm not sure i can stomach.

russia is another story. i know people who've been to russia. i've heard stories about russia. i've had an inexplicable desire to visit russia as long as i can remember. i had twelve year-old fantasies about the glory of petersburg while reading anna karenina. don't judge me for thinking it would be sweet to be a member of the russian aristocracy. unless i was a woman. especially an adulteress. or a romanov. or living anywhere -bouts that whole revolution.
but still!

all that aside, among the stories, i've heard about how indescribably horrible the cooking is. how you wonder if it's really cat they're feeding to you. in which case, i won't live on vodka, but 7-11 or its kin might continue to rescue me.


then, as i make my way back into western culture, there's london. with countries with such a reputation for excellence in cooking, i've wondered how london's food continues to be so... so... disastrous. is disastrous the right word? it's like they are incapable of listening to the french. or the spanish. or the italians. hell, even the swiss, for that matter.

all this further pumps me up for mexican food and in-n-out. perhaps all that cheap hippie kickboxing will count for nothing in the end.

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?

thought i'd share

JOY ELIZABETH MS
NX 627 14JUN TPEMFM 1530 1725
NX 8 14JUN MFMPEK 1845 2200



(that means i'm going to china)

it's official

"verbal contracts are as good as the paper they're written on."
or so the saying goes.

only, now i have a piece of paper that says that i'm going to china, mongolia, russia, and finland this summer!

well, that is, after i get my tickets to beijing and my flight from helsinki to lax. or riga to london to lax. but that's just a back-up.
and also, all those damn visas.

but still!
according to VodkaTrain, i'm going!

the great wall, ger camps, st. basil's cathedral, and the petersburg hermitage!
i'm so pumped.

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.

i hadn't considered this

"and then where will you be?"
or so i've heard it said.

joy is a person who panics a little more about going home with each passing day. she's afraid of how fast the next 3 months will go, when 9 felt like nothing.

oh no, i hadn't thought of this.

to do:
work
save money
plan my trip
get my visas
save money
plan my trip
reduce my life to 2 suitcases
send said suitcases home
plan my trip
buy tickets
panic a little
say goodbye to chris/train someone new
panic a little more
finish my contract
move out
traipse through asia
return to the u.s.a.
and the scariest...
????????????


i have dreams every so often. weird dreams. dreams that i went home and said nothing to anybody. i just left. dreams that i went home with hopes of backpacking this summer, because it makes so much sense to return to the states then fly to hong kong and traipse and then go back again. and dreams that i never follow through, which i really regret, because i never got around to seeing that part of the world when i had the chance.

i guess this is going to be more work than i expected.

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.

seriously. it's all i'm asking for.

"ask and you shall receive."
or so the saying goes.


wish i had what i needed
to be on my own
cuz i feel so defeated
and i'm feeling alone

and it all seems so helpless
and i have no plans
i'm a plane in the sunset
with nowhere to land

and all i'm seeing could never make me happy
and all my sandcastles spend their time collapsing

let me know that You hear me
let me know Your touch
let me know that You love me
and let that be enough

it's my birthday tomorrow
no one here could know
i was born next thursday
22 years ago

and i feel stuck watching history repeating
oh, am i just a kid who knows she's needy

let me know that You hear me
let me know Your touch
let me know that You love me
and let that be enough
-jon foreman

addictions

"i love you like a fat kid loves cake."
or so the saying goes.

yes, i have addictions, but i tend to think they're fairly harmless, and most of them come and go.
except coffee. and that's been since i was like, 16. i'm pretty sure i've lost that battle. mostly, i try not to think about how much it costs me each year.

there are worse things. like drugs. or alcohol. or sex. or a combination of all three and then some.


but currently, my addiction is jon foreman's new solo tracks! he's releasing 4 cd's this year, titled spring, summer, fall, and winter. i've already listened to fall, and he's just released winter.

i've gotta say, they're beautiful. they're introspective and just lovely to listen to. they're all acoustic, and the content is a provocative combination of His beauty and the pain of moving on.

example:
she said, friend, all along, thought i was learning how to take
how to bend, not how to break
how to laugh, not how to cry
but really, i've been learning how to die
i've been learning how to die



keep writing, jon foreman. thank you for saying something that goes so much deeper than the usual drivel our generation produces.

"would You create in me a clean heart, oh God, restore in me the joy of Your salvation"
it's been my prayer for a long while now.

i once heard...

"learn to laugh at yourself, and you'll always be amused."
or so the saying goes.


currently, this is my goal. silly, and probably shallow, but i sometimes think i'd like myself a lot more if i could do it.



i've been asked before if there was one song to describe me, what i think it would be.
and long have i thought about it. i don't think i've had a dominant personality, so i've never thought any one song could adequately describe who i think i am.

but the more i've listened to this song, i've realized how much bono knows what he's talking about. about searching and knowing. i try not to mistake my confusion/confliction with being lost. as the old adage said, not all who wander are lost. i like to think i fit into that category. on my most existential level, i've figured out what i'm living for, but beyond that, i feel like i'm wandering. bono admits that he believes, but simultaneously admits that he hasn't figured it out. God bless you, bono.

i have climbed highest mountains
i have run through the fields
only to be with you
only to be with you

i have run
i have crawled
i have scaled these city walls
these city walls
only to be with you

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for

i have kissed honey lips
felt the healing fingertips
it burned like fire
this burning desire

i have spoke with the tongues of angels
i have held the hand of the devil
it was warm in the night
i was cold as a stone

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for

i believe in the kingdom come
when all the colors will bleed into one
bleed into one
yes, i'm still running

You broke the bonds
and You loosed the chains
carried the cross of my shame
of my shame
You know i believe it

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
-u2, "i still haven't found what i'm looking for"

revolution, people. revolution.

"the only things you can count on in life are death and taxes."
or so the saying goes.







cured my political apathy.


carry on.

wo semper bu zhidao, y tu ma?

"veni, vidi, vici."
or so the saying goes.

i've discovered a new phenomenon. lately, i've wondered to myself if some people are born into madness or if, for most, it slowly but surely infiltrates the mind. if we simply stop seeing where we begin and the madness ends. we consciously feel the pangs, but fail to take it seriously until it's too late.

lately, i feel like a part of me is going mad. for those who don't know, words constitute my love language. it's the way i love, the way i process, the way i reason, and really, who i am. i feel that, to a great extent, my self ceases to be without a firm grasp on language and how it moves myself and others.

and lately, everything about it is breaking down. it might seem logical that one's speech would grow if one taught it day in, day out. but the truth is that i listen to so much imperfect english that i, in many ways, can't remember what constitutes good or bad anymore. there's good and bad by esl standards, but they differ a great deal from the sophistication i was cultivating in university.

but if it were english, it would be one thing, but all languages i've been learning have lately coalesced into a non-language. i cannot, sometimes, remember how to express what i want in english. my mind immediately races to chinese, before i have to counter it with my mouth.

furthermore, there are times when i can't remember how to express something in either english or chinese, but can remember the latin or spanish words, and once in a while, i write them down before i realize that it doesn't make any sense. though, for a long while, i couldn't remember how to say "i" or "you" in spanish anymore. wo qiero? that's not right!

and you can tell it's gotten bad when you're supposed to count the students off for dodgeball, and your initial thought is yi, er, yi, er. but oh yeah, you're not allowed to speak chinese. except it's too much mental strain to count one, two, one, two, so you resort to uno, dos, uno, dos. and your kids are confused, but it makes sense to you because, after all, where you come from, that means something!

cohesion. my kingdom for cohesion.

all is quiet on new year's day

"you never know unless you try."
or so the saying goes.

happy 2008.

here's to another year of chances, another year of growing and shrinking dreams, and most importantly, another year of sufficient grace.

my goals for 2008, practical and spiritual:
see the great wall
finally make it to russia
end the year doing something i enjoy
write more
read more
listen more
talk less
breathe more
stress less
pray more
forgive more
laugh more
love more

and decrease, that He might increase

a very merry un-christmas to you

"hallelujah!"
or so the saying goes.

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

and all this is true.

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




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



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

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


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

so famous, so famous.

"fame is the thirst of youth."
or so the saying goes.

i found out this week that i will be experiencing my SECOND television debut here in Taiwan. apparently, somebody's coming to film a story about our school, and thus, chris and my classes. i have to do a story time for all my kindergarteners and... oh yeah, taiwan.

good thing i've discovered that i'm a damn good story teller.

對阿

"language shapes the way we think, and determines what we can think about."
or so the saying goes.

yes, i can now type chinese on my computer. how awesome is it, you ask? way awesome.

also, now i can finally share my chinese name, which means (respectively) wheat knowledge grace.

this is partially because it sounds like my real name and also, wheat is the color of my hair... and let's face it, i'm all about knowledge and grace.

麥喬茵

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.

yes, it's finally happened

"rest in peace."
or so the saying goes.

i'm pretty sure that after almost 3 years of faithful service, my ipod is now dead. i knew it was coming, but i still maintain that it was too young to die.

may it rest in peace.

every day, i die a little more

"always be a first-rate version of yourself instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."
or so the saying goes.

or maybe i just get a little closer to confirming the plain fact that i, indeed, have no dignity.

we're learning christmas songs at school, which is glorious because christmas is glorious and my kids are glorious. you put both together, and you can only get good things. savvy?

i've never considered myself to be much of a dancer. but for some reason, any insecurities that i might have or that, in fact, i do have in the real world, somehow, miraculously, don't matter within the confines of usas.

somehow, i managed to pull off singing 2 versions of jingle bells and jingle bell rock with my kids. it's redundant, much, but i certainly didn't plan it that way. we're practicing for the school-wide celebration, and also taking a little time out of our overly-serious lives to be ridiculous. or at least that's how i like to see it. k1 has it all down. their version of jingle bells is funny and sweet and innocent. they kind of know the words and kind of don't. and they don't have the capacity to sing with any sort of tune, so they shout something that sounds like the words and the proper rhythm. sometimes they even cover their own ears because it's so dissonant. but i have to admire their spirit.

as some of you know, my g3 class and i are up and down. for about a month, however, we've been at peace. i'm hoping it lasts. some days, the chinese teachers ask me how i manage them and don't hate them all; they're loud and fierce and competitive and have no shame whatsoever.
and they're amazing, did i mention that? mostly, they make me laugh. i've instituted a system of checks and x's for them. as one so eloquently put:
me: who remembers how the x's and checks work?
him: if you have many checks, you can get cool points. 1 x means cannot play the game, 2 x's means cannot play dodgeball, 3 x's means writing, 4 x's, i don't know, and 5 x's you probably have to stay all night.
this seems to work, because the world just might fall to pieces without dodgeball.
they're singing jingle bell rock, the words to which they picked up instantly. our actions are absurd, but they pull it off because they're incredibly spirited. they have a bit of a pyramid situation going on, with the most outgoing students in the front and the least in the back; not because i organized it this way, but because that's how they fall naturally. it looks surprisingly cool and the whole act is almost like a mock show tune. but they can hear us downstairs and the chinese teachers kept peeping in to have a look (and telling me they think it's hilarious), so we must be doing something all right. i feel silly, because i look silly, but they're my favorite act.

and i've re-inherited g5. we have a lot of fun, and we choreographed a far more complicated version of jingle bells, with switching and twirling and swinging, oh my! they're fun, and ever-so-easy to teach, because i don't have to worry so much about what they do and don't understand. i told them that they have to show some spirit. at least more spirit than g4 and g6. consequently, this means that i, too, have to be spirited if i want any kind of result. and in this case, who needs aerobics? i'm jumping and twirling and yelling and dancing just to get them to loosen up.

no dignity, whatsoever.

thailand

"has the jury reached a verdict?"
or so the saying goes.

yes, in fact it has.

i'm going to thailand for chinese new year. this is mostly because i managed to find a travel buddy (from chinese class!!). mom can now breathe easy that i'll have someone with me.
and also, i found a really good/cheap flight. it's expensive to fly over chinese new year! my buddy and i decided that japan and korea are too cold, sydney is too far, expensive, and western, and india... well... india probably deserves more than one week.

anyway, she's been to thailand before, but said that she would go again in an instant. and chad has been to thailand twice. a place must be pretty cool if people would go back when they have (very) limited vacations.

get psyched man get psyched man!

"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.

almost.

"what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."
or so the saying goes.

i somehow convinced chris to take the scooter to chinese class last night. despite our incomplete knowledge of taipei above ground, and despite our uncertainty of which roads, exactly, we're allowed to take on a scooter, we didn't die. i thought we might when he unknowingly cruised onto the renai roundabout. apparently, he thought i jumped off the scooter when i saw the car coming straight for us, but no. just a little scared, that's all.

i get better and then i get worse. it's been almost 4 years since that accident, and like clockwork, i feel worse when the seasons change. summer goes well, but winter comes and my back seizes up once again. i go for massages periodically. i find that they help, but it's only temporary. the doctor has always told me to be active. keep stretching. and i am active, but my flexibility is so bad i can't even touch my toes.
it makes me angry, on occasion, that it was all so avoidable. to know that i could be 22 and not have a persistent, lingering pain in my back. on the whole, i try not to dwell on it too much. i try to ignore it. push through it. i try not to let it bother me. because that's how i deal. but it's frustrating to know that it's just there. that i have two options... let it bother me or ignore it. i choose the latter because i only have one life.
am i an ingrate for feeling this way? i'm lucky to be alive. i'm lucky to be as well as i am. but it makes me angry that i have to drag this around with me everywhere. and angrier when i think about some of the things the lawyers have said to me over the years. i think "amusing" was the exact word. amusing because he, a man twice my age and twice my weight, had thrown his back out before and failed to see how my situation was any different. oh, how i seethed that day. i wanted to scream, and sometimes i still do. i wanted to tell him that if he felt that way, surely he wouldn't object to me putting his own daughter under the truck so that she could feel exactly how i did. no more, no less. after all, it was "amusing," wasn't it? if it was so amusing, surely he would maintain the same sense of humor? oh, that wouldn't be funny, mr. lawyer? then why would you say that to me? are you soul-less?

i've realized that i rarely talk about it. i don't want to complain. but it's worse than i let on. some days are better and others are worse. i know part of the reason "amusing" was the word is because i keep going. because it doesn't seem apparent in my life. that's just me, i want to say to them all. that's just what i do. i keep going. it's my method. i force myself to keep moving through all the undesirable events in my life. my job(s), depression, homesickness, a break-up, school, moving away... all of it. if i could, i would tell them all that i don't say anything because complaining incessantly is for the faint of heart... it doesn't help anything. whining and saying i can't i can't i can't is for those who let life get to them too much. and i would ask them if any aspect of my life displays faint-heartedness. i'm not a girly-girl. i'm not and have never been delicate. i'm not a girl who likes to admit she needs anyone. i'm a trouble-shooter. a survivor. a fighter. and yet, it seems, to be this way makes my pain "amusing."




this was never meant to be this long. but like i said, it's been almost 4 years coming.

advice needed!

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

chinese new year is coming up! i get about 10 days off, which means it's absolutely necessary for me to take a trip. they don't give us many vacations here, and it's difficult to get out of taiwan for very long. so i need all you to give me some advice on where i should go.

if it were you, where would you go? here are my options. what do you think?
1. bangkok (or phuket), thailand

2. tokyo, japan

3. sydney, australia

4. dehli, india

5. seoul, south korea


i've decided against china and the philippines, because i can go to these places rather cheaply over a long weekend.

i don't have a great deal of interest in malaysia, cambodia, or vietnam, though i'm willing to entertain the possibilities. and i've already been to indonesia.

so if it were you, what would it be?

of all the things...

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

i'm not a weeper.

anymore.

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

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

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

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

yeah, what?

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

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

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

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

anymore.

not gonna lie, the power feels pretty good.








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

there are aspects...

"this is the day that the Lord has made"
or so the saying goes.

that i truly, deeply miss about my home in temecula. not just california, and not just temecula, but my actual house - the back yard specifically. i strongly believe that every great childhood requires a great back yard. far too many children are without one here. this is probably because they spend 13 hours of the day in school.

i was thinking today about how i've been living the past 4 months with no moments of silence. one can always here people, cars, the whirring of fans, the tinkling of store door bells, the murmur of conversation wherever one goes. it's difficult to block out the white noise, though i've tried. and i realize how very much i miss spring mornings in that house. when i have gotten up early enough there, i have experienced mornings when time actually seemed to stop. when i can't hear traffic or people, because everyone's still asleep, and i can't hear the main roads when so few cars are on them. the windows in our kitchen face directly at a hill over which, if you catch it on a clear morning, has a perfect and breathtaking sunrise. the light slowly peeps over the hills and bounces off the trees, the flowers, and the quiet homes on the other side of the gully separating our house from the rest of meadowview. the air still has a piercing cold bite to it, but the coffee forces the cold to the surface of my body. the cold air and mist around me softly kisses my hands and face. the sunshine slowly melts the cold away, and illuminates the dew on the grass, leaving before me a glistening carpet of deep green. the kind of green that makes me think of more than freshness or my favorite sweater or of eyes. but a profound green, which almost lures me into resolving myself to only eating organic and inherently useful things. of never looking at anything processed or metallic again. and as the sun slowly metamorphoses from a faint pink to a bolder blue, i start to awaken from my trance and think about my day and my responsibilities.

many a time have i thought, especially as i've gotten older, about the stillness of those mornings. here, i long for those mornings. for the taste of the coffee, for the warmth of a soft sweater wrapped around me. i long for the ability to be still in those moments. to just be, and to know that He is. how i long for them. i think that when i return, i will make it a point to have a first morning just like that.

so funny, i can't even handle it sometimes

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

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

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

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

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

i expected better of you, rowling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

the stuff good stories are made of

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

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

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

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

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

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

in theory, that is.

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

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



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

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

sentences you might hear often

"those who can, do. those who can't, teach."
or so the saying goes.

this week, i realized something when a student decided to imitate me in class. it was rather harmless, since she is 3 years old. it was in the middle of my art class, when some of my students were getting a little unruly. it doesn't take much for them to completely lose interest in our art projects. we were supposed to make spiders, and they decided that it was more fun to throw the spiders at each other than to try to stick legs on them. anyway. i was telling some of them to sit down, and one of my students piped up, "okaaaayyyyy, sit down! now! 1. 2. 3..." i stood there in shock for a moment, because she sounded just like me! she imitated not only my voice and expression, but also my posture. huh?

when i was a little girl, my mom used to tell me that she felt like a broken record, telling my brothers and me the same thing day after day after day. i've noticed that being a teacher is not unlike being a mother in this regard. you say a lot of the same things over and over. so i've compiled a list of my most used phrases, in no particular order. i probably say each of these things about 50-100 times a week.

1. ethan...! sit properly!
2. OKAAAYYYYY everybody quiet down!
3. weber, stand up.
4. line up.
5. ethan, shhhhhh.
6. you're a (something)... (after someone has told either one of us an idea is stupid/nonsensical/moronic/illogical, chad and i just say this in response. it drives chris crazy. perhaps that's why we do it)
7. are you ready?!
8. no chinese.
9. wayne/max/andy, stop talking!
10. 1, 2, 3...
and of course
ETHAN!!!

sometimes (and by that i mean often), i do nonsensical things

like today. i ran 5 miles when i got home from chinese class. this is probably because i wanted to demonstrate at least minimal control over my own life. if i can't control the fact that i still have a meeting tomorrow, i'm not getting paid for another 10 days, i have a chinese test in a week, the clothes i washed 36 hours ago still aren't dry, and my children still don't understand what a yellow (or red) line means, i can at least force myself into shape.

...right?

runs are also the times when i have epiphanies about what i'm doing and why, and when i find a renewed sense of purpose in my life. who knew? today's grand realization was that i need to make myself more lists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

hey-o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wow.

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

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

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