rantings of a disgruntled coffee hero.

friends, countrymen, gracious patrons of the man, lend me your ears.

as most know, i work for a certain coffee company, and have been on and off for a few years. while most things haven't changed, one startling change this time around has been the severe discrepancy in customer attitude between my prior location and here. surprisingly, i find this demographic to be significantly more obnoxious than that of orange county, and would like to comment on-slash-berate the people who enjoy unceremoniously tarnishing my existence on a regular basis. thanks to you, i have once again begun to lose all faith in human decency. well done.

and since i can't do it at work, i'll do it here. to my friends and visitors who are also patrons of this coffee house, please, for the sake of others in my position, if any of what i say applies to you... heed my words, turn from your idiocy, and repent of your ways!

let me first say that i've got to hand it to you, riverside county; you guys win the prize for cheapest bastards in the world... yes, the world... because i've visited all over the world, and i've never seen people as stingy as you. never before have i experienced so much resentment over you having to pay for the crap you buy. i've been condescended to, whined at, and complained about over making you pay for what you've just ordered. i don't know why, but you seem to think that my store is a garage sale, and bartering is allowed. does the menu, or does it not say, specifically, how much you will have to pay for that particular product? yes, i believe it does. i want to know... do you argue with people over the price when you go to a restaurant? how about a salon? the grocery store? wal-mart? no, of course you don't, because that would be idiotic, wouldn't it? if you didn't want to buy that product at any of these given establishments, you wouldn't. why do the rules suddenly change when you order from me, then? i'm just charging you because you had to buy half-and-half instead of just sticking with the standard milk, and you needed that extra shot of decaf espresso just so that you could spend extra money and not have it affect your system... because that makes sense. it's a business, not a charity, and if you can't afford it, stick with a more standard order, don't add extras, or just don't come at all! but don't yell at me over 40cents because you couldn't just go with the standard. we charge extra because it costs extra, and because of the extra 2 minutes it takes to prepare that stuff... and for interrupting our flow. besides, it's not like i get that money. or like i decided to provoke you because i could.

now, the following is some advice for a patron of any geographical persuasion. if people do not change these things, somebody's head will explode, and it will be your fault. do you really want that kind of guilt? i didn't think so.
1. seriously, what's with the extra shots of decaf? if you're claiming that it's the taste, that's a fallacy, because the whole process of decaffeinating coffee significantly diminishes the flavor. and surely, you don't expect me to believe that you can actually taste that shot beneath those layers of gluten and lactose. half-decaf on a medium, i can understand (since you get that shot anyway), or even plain decaf of any size, but extras? just empty your wallet into our tip jar, i'll wave my hand mystically over your cup and maybe even throw in an incantation, and we'll call it even.
2. ordering something light with extra whipped cream and/or extra caramel and in large just makes me want to give you the full-fat version anyway. not that i do. but really, you think you're saving calories? besides disgusting me, you're deluding yourself into thinking you're sticking to your diet, and just begging for serious health problems in the future. better make that private insurance work, huh?
3. we have mint flavor all year long, dumbass. so spare me your excitement over our sudden reintroduction of putting it into hot chocolate, mocha, or just plain coffee, because it was sitting there way back in april, too. do we really need to move words around on the menu to make that clear?
4. i remember from back when people liked dane cook, he did this bit on how the need for ketchup in a fast food restaurant suddenly makes you more important than everybody else. you bypass all propriety for it. i would venture to say, however, that the insatiable need for free water is far worse. somehow, with 15 people in line, an endless stream of cups, shots and milk being pulled and poured in all directions and two blenders going, people don't get the message that, no, my co-worker and i, who are already running frantically to fill all these orders, don't have time to get you a free cup of water. go stand in line and order it. or just don't forget it the first time you ordered your drink. but i don't care how nicely you tell me that i can get it "whenever i have a sec." the caffeine-deprived people come first. you already got your drink. forgetting the rest of your order does not put you in front of the line.
5. really? you wanted that drink iced, even though you watched me write it on a hot cup, stood there while i steamed the milk, and waited while i fetched more hot lids, even though you're the only person in line. if you think you've found an original, clever way to get a free drink, you're sorely mistaken. and what a coincidence! you're going to meet a friend right now who will take it! it must be your lucky day. please, i see right through that, and it's been done many times before you, honey. now you can hand that back so i can dump it down the drain while i make you the "correct" drink. and if it's not a ploy, could you pay attention to your order for a second or two?
6. wow, you just let your kids get more of that pastry on the ground than in their mouths. next time, could we not order the flaky scone for them? might i suggest a bagel? or nothing?
7. also, please don't send them in to get free water unless you instruct them to stand in line, say thank you, not jump on the furniture, and use their inside voices. a small tip would be a nice gesture, too, since you did send three of your darlings.
8. no need to talk down. most of us have degrees, or at the very least operate at an average i.q. level.
9. standing in front of other people in line, smack in the middle of your order is not, i repeat, is not a good time to call your friend and ask what they want. do it before. or just don't, because your whole being in high school, clutching your designer bag, and talking on your blackberry is kinda pissing me off anyway.
10. don't tell me to rebrew the coffee when it's still good. you can't tell the difference anyway. no, really, you can't.

read. heed. adjust.


but to the connoisseurs of straight coffee, espresso, glorious foam, soy milk, chai tea, pure tea, and the 2x shot, i salute you.

i want to clamp michael's face in a george foreman grill.

after today, i'm wondering if grills come in full body size.

to quote hunter s. thompson: some people get rich and others eat shit and die.

sometimes, don't i wish.

lord, beer me self-control.

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

huh?

you know what's a deceivingly large country?
thailand.

i love how every birthday has a song.

or at least it has for the past 3 birthdays.


this year's musical selection is brought to you by stephen christian... or anberlin, if you prefer... and their song "alexithymia":
Are you where you thought you'd be
So beautiful and only twenty-three...




thoughts? comments?
this year, in lieu of my usual reflection on how things have changed, i don't think i'm going to offer any sort of complaint or musing on whether or not i'd planned all this. i'm not going to mull over my original wishes, or even qualify the significance of my choices.

the truth is that i've wanted to be here for a long while now. so really, i've no complaints. and i don't want to dwell on how or why my thoughts were realigned, or even how different my life would have been otherwise. despite how much time i spent complaining before, i'm so grateful, and so happy with what You've done with me. the most i can hope for at present is the strength to keep moving. because i do know that the more i do, the more my future and purpose will make sense to me.


if there's anything to dwell on this birthday, it's that i'm beautiful, and even better... only 23.
p.s. i am completely amazed by justin's card. right now, i'd venture to say that he loves the office even more than me. and i really love the office.

i just got

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

there are no words.

as a preview:


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

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

90% boxer. 10% evil.

plus, i was playing with my new camera.

the un-prodigal child(ren)

show of hands: who remembers the story about the prodigal son? i've heard it what feels like a gazillion times. even though gazillion isn't a real number. it's a beautiful depiction of God's love for us, about being lost and then found, amazing grace, etc. etc. etc.

as of late, my mom has described her feelings towards my brother as the father's from that story. even though the son walked away and fell apart, the father still waited for him. he still wanted his son back. she told me that, unless you're a parent, there's really no way to compare a connection like that. she explained that, in parenthood, all bets are off - you would do anything for them. and of course, the father rejoiced when he got his son back.

since i don't have a child, i don't know that i can relate. and since i haven't deserted my family, i can't relate to the prodigal son either. the person i've always understood on some level, however, is the faithful son. which probably shouldn't be the case, because he's not the point of the story. also, i'm pretty sure Jesus wanted us to know that we are all, on some level, prodigal sons. still, i couldn't help but feel that he was justified in his resentment of his brother. here he was, the faithful son, watching his brother who'd screwed up and made a big mess of his life and his father's life, receive the full inheritance back. i fully sympathize with his anger. he, the faithful son, had stayed behind to work and make something of himself. he, the faithful son, hadn't broken his father's heart. he, the faithful son, had treasured his inheritance and lived a life worthy of it. in addition, which isn't mentioned in the story, but he, the faithful son, had probably spent a good amount of his life piecing his father's heart back together. he'd probably try to show his father that there wasn't a need to be shattered, that one of his children wanted to please and honor him. and then his brother, who he had seen hurt his father so, came back and it was as if he'd never left. in fact, they even threw him a party!

i think that, at times, my parents wish that my brothers and i would show a little more compassion towards the one. that our first desire wouldn't be to slap his face off. i've tried, and i think my brothers have tried as well, but that compassion has become hard to find these days. really.

so in the midst of our discussion, we revisited that story. i said that we've run out of compassion in the same way that the faithful son had. that we strive to honor and obey, and that, in the deepest regions of ourselves, we can't understand why our parents are broken. we all know that, should anything happen to us, our parents would feel just the same, but it's difficult to watch what our sibling does to them and still try to find that same compassion. we wonder, as the son probably wondered, what gives our sibling the right? our parents loved us all the same, gave us all the same things, and treated us the same. so why does this one feel that he should have the right, the ability, the gall, to act the way he does? why should his meager (and sometimes downright pathetic) excuses for faithfulness be rewarded - rejoiced over, and ours accepted or assumed?

i suppose that we, like the son, rest in the knowledge that we're loved and rejoiced over the same, though it manifests itself in different ways. that perhaps, what the prodigal son didn't have, we still have, though it might be difficult to identify or even accept these things. and perhaps, just perhaps, the difference in all this is that the prodigal son displayed humility, something that the rest of us have yet to see.

all the same, it doesn't make it any less difficult for us, the un-prodigal, to understand our brother(s). that son wasn't greedy or even wrong. he might have just wanted to remind his father that, while the other one was doing the destroying, it wasn't easy or enjoyable to pick up the pieces.

an interesting thing happened to me at birth choice today.

prague, cz 2009-2010 ((romania, hungary, bulgaria, croatia))
world cup, south africa, summer 2010

and now. uganda, fall 2010??

could be.

when i was a baby, my parents used to pray for things like uganda.
i'm thinking that might be why the stability mechanism is broken.

the reason why we bought the bracelets.

"dwight, did i ever tell you why i left scranton? yeah, i didn't think i did. well, it was all about pam. yeah, i mean, she was with roy, and... i just couldn't take it. i mean, i lost it, dwight. i couldn't sleep. i couldn't concentrate on anything. and weird stuff like food had no taste. so my solution was to move away. it was awful. and it is something i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. and that includes you."
-jim, the office



i'm all out of words, and i'm all out of tears. i'm done with forgiveness, shaking it off, moving on, and i'm even more done with blaming myself for how much it hurts. my only thought is... why delude ourselves with friendship, when being strangers is just as effective, and doesn't waste my time?

half-truths. omissions. white lies. sparing my feelings. it's all a nice way of saying the same terrible thing.

the ironic thing is that i'd actually felt bad for all the things i'd said that one time. i'd even considered myself unfair, thought maybe it was an overreaction. surely you remember, my epic meltdown. but looking back, i was spot-on, and then some. every word was well-deserved, and probably far kinder and more loving than it should have been.

i've considered the ways to articulate, or express, just how angry i am. with you, with me, and especially with the absence of any sort of apology. i'm angry about what was said and done, but even more so about how humiliated i was when i finally got the truth. that all my defenses crumbled, my foolishness was laid clearly before me. it had to come full circle, trickling down to me, as i stood beside you. i'm a failure, a liar, a wreck, a contradiction, on so many levels, but at least i told you who i was.

have you any idea how many people tried to tell me that you and i were mere manipulation? and how many times i said, with conviction, no, you don't understand. despite the insufferable flow from their mouth, they always tell me the truth, listen to me when i tell them to stop, confide in me and i in them, and support me when i really, truly need the help. despite all the things you see or in the case of most, don't see, they would never intentionally hurt me or lie to me.

i was so convinced, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole, or just stop trying with anyone, to learn that those people knew more than i did, despite my vehement defense. this is further compounded by the fact that you haven't apologized, for this or anything else. i have long pondered our philosophies on life; humility and confidence, honesty and reservation, how one finds validation. and while my route isn't the easiest, i'll take how i feel any day over making someone else feel this way.




as far as my future, please, i'm not that desperate.

my best friend.

and me too.

(p.s. the bracelets really say "don't settle for less" but it was between "settle" and my shot that says "for less." so pretty much i had to decide whether i wanted to represent us as having low standards or as prostitutes. low standards, it was. hah.)

why me.

today, i discovered a ladies home journal positioned very oddly in our powder room. right next to the sink. but the funny thing is that when i tried to move it, i discovered that it was stuck to the tile. i then saw that the adhesive was a white substance that looked a lot like milk or soap, and then some flakes of cereal. yes, flakes of honey bunches of oats. i quickly confronted my brother about eating (and spilling) his cereal in the bathroom. and not just that. why, after spilling it everywhere, he seemed to think simply covering it with a magazine was a perfectly sufficient way to clean it up. why does someone eat cereal in the bathroom? i wish i could tell you. i ask myself the same question.

at which point, he denied any knowledge of the cereal. i promptly labeled him as a liar, since i'd just seen him eating a bowl of cereal, i've seen him eat it in the bathroom before, there were unmistakable flakes all over, and... plus, he lies all the time. lying all the time equals liar. i told him to clean it up, and he told me what he thought of me, per the usual tradition these days. and clean it up, he did, with a dry paper towel, which was, essentially, no help at all. i discovered this later, and ended up cleaning the dried sugar myself. wow, i was under the impression that i was living with a 17 year-old. i'm pretty sure my 3 year-old kids in taiwan were even capable of cleaning something like that up. or just not eating cereal in the bathroom.

i suppose things would be different if every day weren't another version of the same thing.



the sound you are now hearing is miniature segments of my brain exploding.

just let go.

there's an old oak tree
we can swing and sway
we'll lock arms and legs, you're so far away
when i look at you, you're so far away
i'm so far away
if you could just let go
-mae


(i really, really, really love mae and i can't stop listening to this song. for realsies.)

home.

right now, the whole "home" concept is not what i thought it would be. nothing i've ever experienced before, either. but things rarely turn out the way you wish they would or expect them to.

so i suppose it's helpful that jon foreman's "i am still running" came on just when i needed to hear it.
build me a home, inside your scars
build me a home, inside your song
build me a home, inside your open arms
the only place i ever will belong

and as much as i've learned about this over the years, about how You provide home when i need it, i think i need to know this more than ever these days. i'm done with speaking and i'm done with arguing. i'm even done with searching for sympathy in the deepest regions of myself.

and i'm asking You, my Father, please don't forget me now. i need a home.

proud to be an american.

where working, tax-paying citizens can't get health care.
can you? because 22, working, mostly able-bodied, and as "citizen" as they come, i sure can't.

it's all wearing so very thin right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

manana.

i now know why the olympics only happen once every 4 years.

they severely eclipse one's ability to carry on the responsibilities of a grown-up, much less act like one.

though i've gotta say it's a beautiful thing to forget yourself for a few seconds while amazing people like lezak do seemingly impossible things... like chasing down the french. because they had it coming. you forget that it's only a game, that the world is still full of real problems, and that you still have a serious problem with the u.s. government. these things seem trivial while you bounce around the room, screaming for some guy who can't even hear you to GO FASTER!

i maintain that the world could do with more absence of dignity.

things which do not put me in a good mood.

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

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

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

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

there's no good way to shake that off.

today really could have been better.

the 4 x 100 swim was epic.

and also, i'm wondering if michael phelps is looking for a wife. i'd make a great mrs. phelps.

question.

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

androgyny, short hair, cultural beauty, and the severe repercussions of living in taiwan for a year

since i got back to america, people seem to enjoy making the same crack at me everywhere i go. "what do you think... doesn't joy look a little more asian?" this is promptly followed by a sharp sideways glare that i apparently do so well and sarcastic laughter.

ha. ha. ha. ha.
that's so original.

and up till this point, i didn't think i'd adopted any asian characteristics. firstly, because that's just stupid. secondly, because i'm unmistakably white. and thirdly... did i use the word stupid?

i mean, living in a culture doesn't mean you're going to start to look like the people around you, does it? not physically, anyway. yes, you might start to incorporate their fashion, their culinary tastes, and appreciate their art, but i never thought that one could actually physically, biologically metamorphose to fit one's surroundings.



behold, the glory of my celebrity look-alike collage. i honestly don't know how to feel about this. my initial reaction is that maybe i should be very, very insulted that i supposedly look like jay chou. i mean, i like jay chou's movies. i enjoy his music. i adored (and continue to look for) 不能說的秘密. hell, i respect jay chou. all this aside, however, it does not change the fact that he is a man and i am not.

apparently, i have attributes that are man-like in appearance. i'm not sure where to begin reconciling this. i think the easy thing to do is blame this on my hair, and not the rest of me. at least that saves therapy. in my defense, however, most taiwanese men are more than a little effeminate, and i believe that our friend jay here is no exception. ask chris!

next, i will say that i don't mind looking like whatever japanese pop artist/actress that is, or kelly hu for that matter. in fact, kelly came up as my closest celebrity match when i tried other photos. still shocking that they're both asian and i'm not!

i actually don't mind jesse mccartney that much, either, since i think one could argue that we look like we're related. i'm just sayin!

so, my friends, it seems that androgyny is in fact still alive and well, and my short hair has thrown me into that category. that's ok, i tell myself, because a lot of fantastic artists/actresses/musicians/cultural icons have rocked that look over the years. and also, apparently, i have incorporated the taiwanese cultural standard of beauty into my appearance. i guess i can't get annoyed with those people who say i look more asian anymore. damnit.





...but fuck that joan collins part.

emotional masochism?

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

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

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

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

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

the smothering immensity of america

it would not be inaccurate to say that i was ill-prepared for my re-integration into american society. i hadn't given the adjustment much thought, as i've believed myself ready to be home for a while now. i'd prepared myself to leave my children, to be awed by china, to be free in mongolia, to be bored in siberia, and to love moscow despite all the stigmas. after all my hard work and anticipation, i wasn't expecting life in america to be complicated at all, because, let's be honest, it had been 13 months and i was exuberantly ready for mexican food, sunny days, the pacific ocean, affordable starbucks, and my friends. let me first establish that, after having visited various corners of the globe, better weather does not exist outside of southern california. yes, i realize that this depends on your definition of "better," but let me tell you that you cannot count on the sun to shine more regularly and the weather to be more consistent outside of this lovely corner of the world. to return to this, my friends, i am grateful.

all that said, despite people speaking to/at me in english when i'm expecting another language. and despite how much i missed chipotle's vegetarian burritos. and even despite the deeply felt absence of my friends, it's everything i can do to keep my heart from exploding every few hours. not with joy, but because i can feel the anxiety of all things american; all things convenient and large, welling up inside me. at times, i have to slow down, close my eyes, concentrate on simply breathing - or maybe on the hypnotic flashing of the turn signal ahead of me - to simply comprehend the vastness of the very road on which i'm driving. 2 1/2 lanes, a divider, and 2 1/2 going the other way, my mind keeps repeating. i crossed less than that to get to my bus stop on the busiest road in banciao.

the truth of the matter is that i feel crushed by the almost excruciating convenience of modern america. by the fact that i can visit a place like target, one of many other places just like it, and buy myself a snack, tampons, a sweater, the office season 3, laundry detergent, a greeting card, a video game for my brother, and a plant for my mom, everything in one place is all too much to handle. i almost don't know what to do with the rest of my brain's capacity, because all these things required 10x more effort in taipei. i had to go to 7-11 for the snack, cosmed for the tampons, blockbuster for the office, net for a sweater, the little mom and pop shop down the street for my detergent, hess bookstore for the greeting card, ximending for the video game, and the flower market for the plant. thus, i would spend my saturday afternoon doing all the things that i can now easily accomplish in 30 minutes or less without driving more than a mile. and the reason it took my saturday afternoon was because my mornings were spent doing my weekly laundry, which now takes all of 10 seconds and doesn't take 72 hours to still be a little damp yet wearable.

the problem is that all my unused energy, all that void capacity, is being dominated by white noise. by an overwhelming lack of concentration. that i find myself unable to stay focused or on track. that my brain labors beneath the weight of variation and convenience around me, grasping at something to pay attention to, to focus on, to center myself upon, yet inexplicably dazed. i'm distracted by all the music, the signs, the language, the concepts that i understand because i grew up here. i speak the language. fundamentally, all this makes sense to me. but it all gets lost when i see the variations on oreo cookies sprawling before me. i get distracted and confused by how something as simple as an oreo cookie somehow becomes very complicated at the grocery store. do i want the plain ones? double stuff? reverse flavors? and what's all that colored stuff? oh, they make other flavored cookies now. and what size should i get? things get even more confusing when i realize that i also have the option of buying a generic brand. at my local 7-11 so many thousands of miles away, oreos came only one way: 12 cookies at 43NT. nothing special, just plain oreos. i've gotta say that i liked the simplicity of choices. either i wanted the cookies or i didn't, but i didn't feel tormented by options. now, as i look upon the vast array of everything including cookies, i can't remember what i was thinking or why i expected it to be harder than this. and yet i wonder why it is so hard, why america is so bent on testing my decision-making capabilities by putting so many choices in front of me.

more than once this week, i have gone into the cupboard or refrigerator, and simply been overwhelmed by a well-stocked food supply. i've gone to make myself some coffee, but haven't known where to start. my life was simpler, containing such fewer choices during my travels. but in those moments of unbearable plenty, i find i have to close the door and order something at a local restaurant, because there i can at least focus on a specific object, self-contained by its recipe and my blissful lack of control in how it's made.

i feel myself, at times, unable to speak, to think, or even to just be, my brain overstimulated by the sheer vastness of my surroundings. it's true, what they say about things being bigger in america. more cars, and they're all bigger than the ones i've seen since i left. my home street is probably 4 times as wide as my alley in taiwan, which sort of fit a cab if you were lucky. my backyard seems to contain more grass than the whole of taipei. and as for my house, well, i'm kind of blown away by the whole "2 1/2 bathrooms" concept.

i was surprised to find that the hardest part for me was church, where i go to meet my Father who, i have found, meets me in the most surprising and humble places. despite my inability to find a church, He always finds a way to speak to me, even when i'm discouraged or confused or in my loneliest of states. i found Him even when i didn't expect to find Him, atop rinjani in the cold. in the smallest moscow churches, by myself as i plodded along the wall. He romanced me, and reminded me that i am His. even whilst sitting down in the great temple of bangkok, wondering about truth and absolutes, i was certain that my Father heard my confusion and frustration, and He met me, where i was. i could hear Him in the depths of my spirit, and i prayed to my God, while others prayed to theirs. i didn't care, because my God is present everywhere, untamed and unlimited by the compartments to which we assign Him. in fact, it is in these seemingly meaningless nooks of His creation that i seem to hear His voice the loudest. in the utter brokenness of humanity and spirit that His beauty screams from the most deafening and ineffable heights. and yet, when i go to meet Him with others who are looking for Him as well, i can't even concentrate. everything is so big. the building, the message, the lights, the screens, the band, the music. and others around me feel Him and hear Him, and i have always and will always ask myself why i can't hear Him too. the truth is that i need to be prepared in spirit when i come before my God, and strangely, i haven't been able to silence my head or my heart enough to concentrate. perhaps i never was quite cut out for a large church.

i like to think that eventually, i'll get used to all this. that my being with synchronize with my surroundings, and that i will feel once again like i belong in america. whether or not that's what i'm meant to feel is questionable, but i'm trying to be patient.

synchronizing and feeling is perhaps too much to expect. so for right now, i'll just focus on breathing.

what's your mosaic?

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

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

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


what does your mosaic say about you?

the shadow proves the sunshine

i knew it was going to be hard, but i wasn't prepared for this.

i'm in way over my head.

13 months later.

i'm back in the states, yet i haven't mastered the art of ordering food in english. this could take a while.

finding validation.

once upon a time, a guy broke up with me (or claimed to break up with me) out of apathy. because he simply didn't care enough about me... who i was and what i did wasn't enough to generate him caring... i believe "mediocrity" was the word he used for me... though i've worked so hard to purge the memory that i might be mistaken.

and for a while, once upon a time, i actually believed that there was some truth to all the things he said. i racked my brain trying to figure out all the things i'd done wrong. and as hard as i worked, i couldn't escape the realization that, no this wasn't a dream, someone actually said that to me.

ultimately, what it made me was angry, and that anger later led to determination. and probably some form of bitterness and apathy. i don't really know, but i worry more about looking ahead than back.

and suddenly, maybe today or yesterday or even a few weeks ago, i felt as though i woke up. as though this past year hit me all at once. my year of chinese and countless responsibilities, my beautiful children. of moving away and fitting in, of making friends with people i love deeply, from all sorts of different backgrounds and lifestyles. of seeing the great wall before i died and finally making it to russia, and making more friends along the way. and despite how awful he made me feel about a social circle at starbucks... because apparently i was supposed to think myself above all my friends there... how many times those friends have e-mailed me to cheer me on... encouraged me to think big and fight hard to achieve all the things i want.

methinks my year has been beyond spectacular. all my fears have slowly been vanquished by success and all the people i love have slowly helped me find all the pieces of myself. i've learned that deep, meaningful love is measured in more ways than one and manifests itself in countless others.

2 years in dating exile and i've learned a lot about what it means to find one's own validation.

yeah, that break-up was bullshit.

96 hours.

think for a second about the past 96 hours of your life. what did you do? go to work? see friends? sleep? cook a nutritious meal? shower?

well, i am telling you right now that i have never quite appreciated the immensity of 96 hours until this past week. that's right, folks. i spent an entire 96 hours on a train from ulaanbatar to moscow WITH NO SHOWER. at first, this seemed like a paltry sum of time, but let me tell you... after about 6 rounds of chess, one ass-whooping in poker (i beat all the boys, p.s.), 2 books, 1 movie, 24 hours on my ipod, pictures, 2 nights of drinking because, seriously, there was NOTHING better to do!, 2 subsequent hangovers, and more junk food than i ever care to remember, 96 hours is, in fact, a significant amount of time.

for a while, i was beginning to think i actually lived on that train.

jumping pictures in front of st. basils and other good things to come later. always.

asia overland

i don't have much time here, but i will say that it's hard to believe i left taipei less than a week ago. currently, i am in an internet cafe in ulaanbatar, mongolia. tomorrow we leave for our ger camps, about 7 hours away.

since i arrived, i have seen the great wall, the forbidden city, tiananmen square, the summer palace, and a smattering of other places in and around beijing. i met up with my tour, a compilation of people from australia, england, and scotland. i am the only american in the group. this never happens. they're all fantastic, a truly pleasant group to travel with.

we spent the past 2 days on a train from beijing to ulaanbatar. about 36 hours. it was simultaneously pleasant and wretched. not because the train was particularly uncomfortable, but the incurable boredom! we read, played board games, took naps, and had many a discussion. yet this is nothing, considering that we will be on trains a full 72 hours next week. yikes.

i could say oh so much more, but time's a tickin' and i don't have much of it! love, peace, and all the rest.

i said goodbye

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

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

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

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

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

notes 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

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

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

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

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

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

note 2

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

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

note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

at least i managed to laugh a little afterwards.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and somewhere along the line, this happened:









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

look. laugh. be envious.

juno

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

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

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

surely, dickens was referring to s4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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










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

oh snap

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

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

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

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

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

when sad, i find it often works to buy something you don't need

okay, just because i bought myself an ipod nano doesn't mean i'm not sad that chris left today. wow, double-negatives.

it's been about 6 months since my ipod died, and i finally broke down and bought myself a replacement. i figure... i could get 80gb, but i don't bloody need 80gb. come to think of it, nobody needs that much! this thing carries 1,000 songs. i could listen to it all the way from ulaanbatar to moscow and probably still have space leftover. i think i'm set.

today was a little weird. i went to the jade market to pick up my awesome stamp, engraved with my chinese name. i could only stay a short time, though, because all the green almost made me suffer a seizure. bought travel guides. slept. did my laundry. walked around because the sun was out. shopped. bought my nano.

and spent an unusual amount of time laughing.

i said yesterday that i really have nothing to complain about. which is funny, since i spend a lot of time complaining. or maybe reflecting. i don't know! but truthfully, all things have culminated in God putting me right here, and that's bigger than anything i ever imagined for myself.

but seriously, i just laughed today, for a lot of reasons. as a going away present, chris wrote me a letter, crammed with a lot of things, one of them being advice. and one piece of advice in particular about dating. encouragement, if you will. a reminder that i'm really good at selling myself short. as i normally do, i took the things he said and thought about them. sometimes i conclude that he's a jerk and proceed to tell him so, but most of the time, they're just harsh truths. i went online, where little reminders about my past dating choices popped up around me. so i thought about it. about the circumstances and what it did to me and what i became. and i just laughed, because it actually hurt as much as it did at the time. at the absurdity. not that all my choices or the fact that it hurt at the time were absurd. but a few, yes. and that, to me, today, was funny.

remind me to stop selling myself short.

that one time

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




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

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

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

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




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

can't i, please?

shit, son

I CAN'T SLEEP! WHY CAN'T I SLEEP!

it's the small things that matter

or so i've heard it said.

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

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


and lately, one more thing.

behold, the guava:














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



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

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

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

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

a good thing

china called today.
(well, actually, they informed my visa agent who informed me)

and they're letting me in the country this summer, despite all the olympic insanity going on. (beijing was, at best, a questionable idea, you guys)

let's hope those russians are as nice.

what's that? oh yes, 20 lbs just lifted off my chest.

one day me speak pretty.

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

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

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

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

no time! no time!

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it's only 6 more weeks.

我的中華的朋友你好!

today, after work, i was tying up some loose ends on my visas and watching the office, and this clip came up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AC1oj_SWJU

now, i'll be the first to admit that my chinese isn't great, but i've really come to appreciate this. i had to listen a few times to fully figure out what he was saying, but it's wo de zhonghua de pengyou, ni hao! which means, my chinese friends, hello!

okay, nobody else will think it's funny except chris, but i was dying.

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.