See you on the other side

Ok, so not to be negative or anything, but it's been really windy outside for the past 12 hours straight and it's gotten me to thinking about whether or not I'll be making it home on time/in one piece for the holidays. I've been a little edgy about flying since last January, and all this winter storm advisory stuff hanging over the places I'm flying through on my dates of travel makes me uneasy. Continental has a re-accomodation option right now for both Newark and CVG through the 22nd, and I'm like... better safe than sorry? That's a huge pain though, I just really really really want to go home!

Ok, article at weather.com makes it sound as though the worst of the storm should be past by the time I land in Newark on Monday... so... yeah, let's hope that's the case. I think I just am not that comfortable with the idea of most of our flight coming over the Arctic and the Canadian northeast.

Anyways, it's probably not the best idea tempting-fate-wise to go posting this on the internet, but in case I ever go down in a plane (which, I realized last night, the probability gets higher as I fly more) my loved ones (you know who you are) are welcome to search out my passwords and read all my diaries and tell the relevant people what I've always thought about them. Just don't be too embarrassed for me, please.

They made me do it

I hope whoever's reading gets a good laugh out of this.

I went, bitterly, to the school yesterday afternoon to give my "speech." I'd just made a series of notes of things to touch on, and assumed that my rambling ways would fill at least 45 minutes, and that the students would be sufficiently curious to ask a few questions that would let me ramble a further 15 minutes. I went and started talking... the room was actually pretty full, and a lot of my students were there. I chose to gauge myself based on the face of a particular student, who was smiling and nodding most of the time, but about 10 minutes in, I realized that I'd lost most of the room. Soooo I just kept going. I finished with 10 minutes for questions, but there were none. The student who was chairing the lecture got up and said "due to the time, we should bring the lecture to a close..." and THEN suggested that I perform in some way for their entertainment. They wanted song or dance. Obviously I was not going to dance. And sing? Moi? You may not know this about me, but I love singing. But I love singing so that you do not know about it. I'm happy to do it in the shower, in my car, in an empty house, at drunken karaoke... yeah, that's fine. And I'd hazard that, in the absence of anyone to critique my ability, I ain't bad. But I'm sorry, put me on the spot and expect me to serenade you out of my ass, and you're in for an unpleasant experience. Anyways, there was more than 100 of them, and one of me, and this boy very humbly came up and expressed profound interest in it, and I couldn't think of any way to escape... I thought actually how much I wished I was a dude. Dudes I think can really respond to a song request however they want. Girls have some bizarre reputation to uphold with their tinking voices and such. So... I cleared my throat... a lot... reminded them that I was sick (I don't think they understood me) and after a long awkward silence...like... worst performance of "Another Day" EVER. OH MY GOD I haven't been so embarrassed in a long time. Long long time. I did not like how I felt at the end of that ordeal. I made the insistent student come up and sing also, and he came up bashfully, then like... broke into a rolicking rendition of some Chinese song about a pretty girl (I was implicated here), and it was fun. Then we were all dismissed. I spent like the next hour trying to figure out what I could have done differently to make that any less of a traumatic experience. Sigh.

Other things of note: I was recently trapped in the revolving door at the front of the Archives building. Not like I was spinning around infinitely. Like I must have dodged the sensor somehow, so the door didn't speed up once I entered it, instead rotating at what I'm assuming is its energy conserving velocity. It very clearly printed (in Chinese) at face-level (for me) on the glass not to push the door. But not quite understanding the mechanism behind the door's movement, I figured it was a 50-50 chance that pushing on it would get me out sooner, as opposed to like... setting off an alarm or something. I nudged it slightly, found that it was unforgiving, and decided just to wait and walk very slowly until I reached open air. Then I heard the guard behind me yelling. It seemed like he was saying "[something something] push it!" Well, since I wasn't pushing it, it seemed unlikely that he was telling me to stop. So after a few moments and still not quite getting what he was saying to me, I gave the door a hearty shove. Aaaand it stopped moving altogether, positioned just so I had no hope of escape either forward or backward, like a bug in a jar. A group of workers standing just outside burst into laughter. I... also laughed. The guard behind me laughed and came to my rescue. My first such experience.

Blargle

My brain is all a-scrambles.

I like writing. It helps me get all the clutter out of my head so that I can get my thoughts organized. When I really go at it, you can pretty much see the dust pluming out of my ears along with a stream of migrating spiders and a few tiny post-it notes. It's a personal meditation and clarifying process.

When I was younger, I loved essay tests and writing prompts because I felt like I had some kind of advantage. With hindsight, I now realize that that was a bit delusional, but in any case I enjoyed myself and my grades were good enough to get me into Cornell, so whatever, but still.

In the present day, however, just the thought of the GRE issue prompt makes my armpits all sweaty. My body hunches over and I tend to begin staring very hard at a single point in front of my face. It's weird. I have such strong opinions on nearly all 243 of these topics, but the simple act of beginning sees my brainwaves fade to snow. I responded to a question yesterday afternoon that called for evidence that I can rattle on about for hours (proven case). But when I realized that I needed a new introductory paragraph and went to sort it out, I just could not. I BSOD'd and crashed and then had to leave the room.

It's very hard for me to achieve a state in which my mind is totally clear. But in thinking through my approach to a lot of these topics, I often find that I've been sitting for whole minutes not thinking anything at all. In my meantime my breathing has grown shallow and quick and my mouth is hanging open.

I'm familiar with this psychological block-- it's been one of my most steady companions through 4 years of undergrad. Seriously, I wonder what it is I'm so afraid of.

A very brief entry today, since a WAC program is about to start... I'm just still feeling a lot of anxiety right now, and rather than obsess about it to someone else AGAIN, I'll just unload here.

Basically I just want to angst about the job I've been trying to get. During this whole process, it just seemed very clear to me that this opportunity was somehow tied in to all the random decisions and detours I've been taking since I missed that flight in Shanghai in 2005. People have been telling me not to worry, but it's really hard for me not to. As I explained to a co-worker last week, I want this job so bad that I can't even imagine applying for any other positions right now. I don't think I could be convincing about having a passion for whatever field, or the necessary level of experience for any other job. It's like... now I know exactly what it should feel like to know that you're perfect for something or that something is perfect for you. It would be quite the emotional blow to be rejected for something I was so ready for, and I am having trouble picturing myself getting it all together to start applying and interviewing for random office jobs again.

More importantly, not getting this job might quite literally shatter my entire worldview. The whole basis of my relentless optimism and goodwill... my patience... the very nature of my cosmos... that's what's at stake here.

And that's why I'm so concerned.


I'm really trying to scrape together a psychological contingency plan here, but it doesn't seem like it's really working... though I suppose this is one of those parachutes that you really can't test until the ground really starts coming up at your face.

The ambrosial mango from across the straits

First off though, I'd like to mention the newest application of my fear of commitment, at its most socially crippling. So, just outside the south gate of my xiaoqu, the gate we most frequently use, is a fruit-seller. We've been buying fruit there on and off since we moved in, but there wasn't ever really any sense of attachment. One reason for this was the eventual rotation of every person who has worked there-- usually it's operated by a single person every day from morning to night until that person mysteriously disappears and is replaced by a new person who does the same. Another reason is that there have been times when the selection of fruit was slightly under the par set by other fruit sellers citywide, or the prices still sounded a little higher in comparison. For these reasons, I've had no problems just taking my business elsewhere, though often I just grew too lazy to buy fruit at all.

Anyways, two days ago I decided to stop and buy a few mangos, when the jolly young male fruit seller decided to strike up a conversation with me. I guess sometimes you can't help but notice the comings and goings of two girls who speak English all the time and who also rendevous with old white men nearly every day right in front of your shop. But since then, I feel somehow beholden to this fruit seller, who, unlike other sellers, makes friendly conversation in lieu of speedy wordless transactions. Because now we have the bare construct of a relationship, I feel like taking the extra steps to go buy fruit elsewhere would be an act of disloyalty, even though probably no one even cares. Also, when I pass the shop now, will I have to make eye contact and small talk? Aaaaargh! These are the concerns that keep my from functioning like a normal person all of the time.

Whaaaaatever, this post is actually supposed to be about mangos. Sweet, succulent Philippine mangos. The Philippine mango is a goldenrod-hued ovoid fruit that is more slender than the mango we are familiar with in the US. There, it's possible to encounter it in the dried fruit section, but here, it's been mango season for a couple months now, and they're everywhere in their fresh golden glory. The first thing you notice, I guess, is the frangrance, and after looking briefly for where that smell is coming from, you'll find the mango. On the street, in a bag on the couch, its tattered peelings in the trash can, wherever, there's that haunting... melodic scent. Instantly recognizable as mango, only it does make you wonder why you've never smelled it this strong before.

These mangos you peel and eat like bananas, and it is a messy endeavor. You'll invariably have to wash your hands afterwards. The skin is pretty tender, and comes away easily, though sometimes you do have to tug a bit. Then you just tear copious amounts of mango flesh off the large pit in the middle, and finish by using your teeth to comb through the remainder of the pulpy fibers, much like whales do, for whatever vestiges of that sugary sweetness are left. If your vigilance wavers, the juice starts dribbling everywhere, and you get neon orange droplets slithering down your wrist, onto your kneecaps or the toes of your socks, and all over your chin. I'm usually pretty careful about this, and had a method that was working pretty well until today, when I just removed the whole mango from its jacket and ate it two-handed. For me, pretty soon the area around my lips and chin starts to burn and itch from the pectin, or whatever it is in fruit that I'm mildly allergic to, and I have to stop.

They've been selling mangos for several weeks now, and I've passed by several mango peels scattered on the streets. For some reason I just didn't want to go for it, under the illusion that these had to be approached like the ones back home: with a knife and a blindfolded sense of disappointment. It seemed like such a small mango would really suck to eat, with more pit than flesh, and a truncated length enjoyment. Also, I had no way of knowing whether they were ripe or not. But anyways, since my first mango a few days ago, I've been hypnotized and can't actually stop thinking about them. The flavor is inspirational. I've cycled through all the cooking possibilities but can't get past the delicious notion of just consuming them raw forever. Now I understand why mango ice creams and candies taste the way they do. This is what mango should taste like! The flavor's so rich and... yellow. These mangos taste like pure nectarine sunshine. Or like a Beach Boys song (a pretty one, about the beach)!

If you ever get the chance, I encourage you to embrace this fruit for a transcendental gastronomic EXPLOSION!

Yes. A bottle.

I am drinking yogurt from a bottle, and it has chunks of coconut floating in it. I wonder if this will make me sick.

Eee! Eee! Eee! Eee!

Have you ever attempted to cube pork with a [really] dull meat cleaver? I have just done this, and I have advice for anyone who considers this course of action in the future. First of all, it's good to have some way of keeping your imagination occupied. Your mind can only wander so far into unsavory territory before trauma sets in. I'd been peeling and cleaving vegetables in the well-lit comfort of our living room, but for this particular activity, I chose to relocate to the darkened kitchen, and I gotta say that it did me good. Also, be aware that the probability of your face getting splattered with raw pork water increases dramatically.

I mean, I hate raw meat. I hate dealing with it in any capacity, including defrosting, cleaning, and cutting. Anything that takes place before the butchered corpse hits a hot surface and thereby becomes food is wholly unappealing to me. Therefore, the fewer visible muscle striations (+10 life points for the broken light), the better, though it doesn't help that you can still feel them. By the way, not many things are as repulsive as the slippery stubbly skin that comes with some cuts of pork shoulder. Oy. Being able to see the mottled coloring much more clearly than I could would have been worse.

Anyways, this was all part of my attempt to make a filling for mini pork pot empanada-ish thingummies. Tomorrow I tackle the crust and the baking, and I'm really prepared to fail altogether. The stuff I made tonight tastes all right, but it smells really weird. And I don't know where the smell comes from. It's unappetizing and smells a little like... burning. Not the cozy smell of a campfire or burning paper... it's something a bit more... undigestable. It's a common smell, just not a delicious one.

Also, everything somehow ended up coming out a little sweet. Now, I know that I added some brown sugar at the beginning, but like... it's kind of a porky carrot-like sweetness that follows a lot of stews I've experienced. Argh!

Oh, so I'm doing this because tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I wanted to have something a little surprising to present to my adult class tomorrow night. I mean, I don't know if many of them get a chance to have dinner before class (I know I don't, short of mantou with peanut butter some nights, or a partial package of noodle snacks), so it might be a nice gesture if I can produce something tasty for this holiday. Or... the alternative is to have a good story to tell them as we all starve together for two hours (unless they already eat, in which case it'll just be me). It doesn't really resemble the look or flavor of what I originally had in mind, but I'll follow through and see how it ends up. And gee, I had no idea that pork like... expands. The little bits I thought I cut are now much larger and... formidable. I also really don't want to try the meat itself to see how it turned out. You try taking a look at a pile of pork chunks under fluorescent lighting (think autopsy room) and see how eager you are to put any derivative thereof in your mouth. It's like the salmon fiasco revisited in pork.

Oh, that salmon. It still makes me pretty ill.

It's not as though I'm going on any real recipe here. It's sort of an amalgamation of recipes I've found and wild claims by forum members as to what substitutes for what. I shall post results as soon as I have them, though the potatoes taste all right so far!

Meanwhile, I washed my hands a multitude of times during the entire project. Did you know that I am totally paranoid when it comes to raw meat and the pathogens it carries? It's one of my "tendencies." I found myself in an awkward position this evening after water had pooled all over the countertop and floor and I had a wet plate of wet meat and nowhere quite sterile enough to put it down. Actually, that was less awkward than me rinsing the plate and the pork together, unable to turn the water off without contaminating everything and then having to turn the water back on again.

Fortunately, I brought disenfecting wipes!

Some more on the bird flu

As it is my greatest fear (or maybe greatest plausible fear), I checked around for the news.

Here's what Xinhua news service and the China Daily reported: http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/2006-10/02/content_5165748.htm

Nearly 1,000 chickens dropped dead from the flu and a crazy number were culled after them. The rest of the birds in the district are being innoculated, as I gather.

Additionally, it turns out that some of the doctors in my class have been busy throughout the holiday monitoring all fever patients for any connection to the outbreak. Connie, the doctor in charge of the class, said there's nothing to worry about. It was really weird to have the news confirmed by an actual doctor.

For anyone actually interested in flu news, another outbreak was reported in Yinchuan, the capital of neighboring Ningxia autonomous region.

Mmm, that's all. I'm way sleepy, man.

FREAKY news (5 stories to chill my bones)

Like the title says...

This morning, I got up early (these days, 8:45 is early) so that we could go to the park on our last day off. I was expecting a day of relaxation, maybe some drawing, some reading, some lesson planning, and maybe shopping. I was checking my e-mail and sorta eavesdropping on Alice's phone conversation, but couldn't really figure out what was going on cuz I was only sort of paying attention.

Apparently, Russ's apartment was broken into last night. The thief came in through his bedroom window, on the 4th floor no less, and took his laptop, cell phone, and wallet, though his credit cards were left behind. Holy shit, right? I mean, he was asleep right there, next to the desk where everything was. He didn't notice anything until this morning.

By the time we got over there at 9:30, he had already reported it all to the police. Also, he had decided that he's leaving the country ASAP. And I was like... "wha..?" I mean, I'd sort of stated to myself on the way there that if my laptop goes, that's it and I'm coming home. But also... my laptop is maybe worth 100 times more to me. To be fair, he sort of doesn't know how to use a computer, and apparently it was only $400. The phone was about Y500, and he only had about Y600 in his wallet. In Alice's estimation, my initial loss was much heavier, so she and her family don't really understand why he wants to leave.

Ok, well, someone broke into his apartment and walked around his room while he was in it-- probably armed also. That, I understand, would shake anyone up. I mean, what exactly would he have done if he'd woken up? His assessment was that this country is too dangerous and he won't stay here any longer than he has to.

But. On the other hand. Robberies occur everywhere. He feels like he's being targeted, and I sort of understand that feeling-- after having shit stolen, I've been REALLY aware of how everyone around me might be about to take the rest of my stuff, but some of that is irrational too. Because you can take precautions, and the truth is that he left himself open by leaving his bedroom window visibly open.

Granted, it may never have occurred to him (as it never occurred to me) and anyone would scale 4 stories to commit a theft. I looked out his window today and the wall is perfectly smooth and completely inaccessible. Except, the apartment below had grating on the windows, like what we have here, and the one down and to the left of that did also, and so on-- so the dude(tte) leap-frogged from grating to grating to get up there. Which is still a feat, but now comprehensible.

So I dunno. We think it might be the shock speaking. I personally think it's not worth leaving the country for after we've just gone through all this trouble and Liu finally got our foreign experts certification. I mean... I'm a lot younger too and getting along a little better I think. I can see how maybe little things might have been doing it slowly-- like, he often doesn't understand me when I speak to him, I can't imagine what communicating with everyone else is like. Sometimes he just doesn't even try. So yeah I dunno. We'll see what he decides.

Meanwhile, we're a bit worried because if he goes, so probably will the high school classes. Which is not what I want. I've only gotten to see them once and I adored them. I will be way sad if I can't work with them more (which, hi, is sort of why I came here). And then all the hospital and training center classes will also be bequeathed to me.

The second freaky thing. I don't think anyone told Russ this, but I overheard them talking about it. Basically, if he weren't a foreigner, the police probably wouldn't have had any time for this case today. This is because somewhere in this district (I think) a family was murdered last night and they're all tied up with that.

The third freaky thing. On our way back from lunch, we passed an intersection and I heard the taxi driver point out something very very disturbing. Well, I was disturbed because this is my ultimate paranoia that was addressed. Apparently somewhere nearby they found chickens with the flu and had to kill them all. There were more details and some numbers, but the essence is here I think. Some of you maybe have heard me predict my own death from this illness, and I still believe that it's a likelihood. I asked Alice to make sure I heard correctly, and I had, but she seemed totally unconcerned. She assured me that the only cases of people with the illness have been in Southern China... the way that in the US we say that the only cases of people with the illness have been in Asia. So I'm not comforted a whole lot. I dunno if the windiness of this area is a good or bad thing in this case. But whatever. I'm still a little bugged out, but since no one else cares, I'll just... calm myself.

The fourth freaky thing. I need to plan two lessons for tomorrow, 5 hours in all, not anywhere yet in that, thanks, but anyways. I was looking for some good news articles that might present well, and decided to try The Week for some nice short summaries. So what does the internet do but flip shit at me. I got a page I've never in my life seen before. Some very high contrast colors and a no-nonsense box in the center basically stating something like "this is not your browser at fault. we did in fact understand where you wanted to go but we don't want you to go there. don't you dare try that again." So... I didn't. Which is why I can't tell you the exact text of that page. But yeah, for whatever reason it is not ok to try going to that website here.

The fifth freaky thing. Nothing that has happened to me personally. But I did find some articles on National Geographic about resurgent illnesses, specifically measles and polio. How they're going crazy in some developing countries in Asia, Central Asia, and Africa because of poor immunization coverage there. What really irritated me though is the idea that there are people who would declare immunization unsafe and convince others to decline immunization for themselves and their children. Some of the claims about vaccines being laced with HIV or sterilizers are out of the scope of my belief. I mean, don't people want to live? I'm just glad that philosophies or whatever have developed in the US that allow the science of immunization to be widespread and accepted. That's one thing I'm proud of, and I really do think that's a better way of life. I guess what I feel is that it wouldn't be a bad thing if that particular value were to spread worldwide.

Woo, I have an opinion.

As for the non-freaky parts of the day, there were a few. The park was really nice. I managed to do some artsy stuff there, but it sucks. I partially blame myself-- I wasn't feeling very detail oriented. But I also blame the paper, which was the only art-like paper I could find. Also, I sort of blame the pastels. But the pastels are weird. I got them for really cheap at the department store. There are 57 colors in the box, which is monumental. But then again, the box says "Happy Junior Artist" on it. And I thought, "youth?" If you flip the box over, there's a photo of a baby's hand. I mean this hand most likely belongs to someone under the age of 3. Also, they're "beyond non-toxic" and "environment friendly" and I'm thinking... art supplies that are non-toxic are sort of not worth it. I mean... sure, food dyes or like... fruit derivatives... but... not usually. So these OIL pastels are looking a lot like crayons. But the COLORS. I mean, the colors have names like "vermillon" (sic), "viridian," "oxide green," "cobalt blue," "ultramarine," "prussian blue," and like "dark carmine." Also, there's a "rose hadder," which I don't think I'd ever heard of until I looked at the back of this box, although now that Stephen King title makes more sense. But it was a pleasant way to spend the morning. Lots of mothers kept bringing their kids over to watch me draw... and people kept commenting when they walked by. It was... weird. But cool.

Then we ate at Yellow River a restaurant that serves western food that has gotten thumbs up from previous teachers, cuz I was craving pizza like mad (Phoebe and Joey were talking about it on Friends). Russ got the Chicago pizza... which ended up being a pizza with chili instead of tomato sauce. Really good though. I got tomato cheese, which was exactly that... also no sauce. But good. Alice went with the spicy chicken sandwich which was actually a cajun chicken sandwich that was really good (I tried some). The only other people there was a party of businessmen who ended with a Y600 tab. Whoa.

I have no idea how I spent the rest of the afternoon. I did take a 3 hr nap, I suppose, which has become the standard measure of time for me over the years.

And now I'm in a crunch preparing for two classes. I don't mind admitting that I get really nervous every time I have to do one of these. I understand this sort of makes me a mess a few times a week, but eh.

Watched the first of my Hohhot DVDs last night-- Top Gun. My first time ever watching that movie. I remember running in and out of the room with my cousins on various adventures while our parents had it on, but I absolutely never paid attention. I dedicated the viewing to Liz and Aki, the only two people to ever mention it to me, and am happy to say that I totally loved it. The theme was always my favorite song to play on the recorder in elementary school, but I was annoyed that they kept playing "Take My Breath Away," cuz it was almost camp (probably the nature of the song as it's evolved today, but still). Also Tom Cruise used to be real hot stuff and I never realized. I mean, I was in elementary school, but that hasn't stopped everyone, apparently. Ahem. And I've been a Val Kilmer fan since The Saint. Just sharing that. But the best was the fact that the DVD had all the extras on it. And there are a lot, though I was too tired to check them out so I don't know if they were really there or not. So that's crazy cuz that never happens.

Ok. Back to lessons, goddammit.