Currently trying to put together an essay for UC San Diego. It's the classic problem though of just how to begin. I spent all afternoon brainstorming and harassing people for their opinions, and I think I know where I'm bound with this topic, but... that first paragraph? Elusive as ever. But in the interest of writing something somewhere, I'm going to put down something I've been giggling about to myself for weeks now.
It's always fun to contemplate the origins of the English names you encounter among friends and students in this country. Generally it's as one would expect, middle school classes where Bobs and James' predominate thanks to a hasty scan of the textbook, and your requisite Lily's and Linas thanks to their resemblance to the pinyin of the person's actual name. Among certain high schoolers you get names like "Killer" and "Wolf King" as either defiant self expression or an in-your-face to the teacher that one rationalizes with "well, at least he's using English." Among others, you meet Kobe Bryant and Alan Iverson. Then, though, you find surprisingly high concentrations of Irises and Fionas, which leads me to my favorite aspect of all this. I know I'm guilty of this too in the name lists that I've drawn up, but you can always tell a little bit about the foreigners who have preceded you in any given place by the trail of English names that they've left in their wake. I remember naming students with Russ one day and hearing a number of suggestions that might have been more en vogue in byegone days. So I was thinking, how would you feel if you walked into a room of Chinese people and discovere that their names were all...
1) a series of preppy names like "blake" and "aspen"
2) post-prep androgyny, like "bryce" and "avery"
3) of the tradition that brought us "k'neisha" and "deshawn"
4) familiars like "jim bob" and "emmylou"
5) the entire cast of the star wars films
6) disney characters
7) characters from prime time TV
8) Arthurian legends
9) from the old testament
10)brought to you by the letter "G"
11) not English
I'd be so happy.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
What do I do now?
I just got a tremendous urge to buy something. You know, just to boost the endorphins a bit. I probably would not have actually made a purchase, but I wanted to alleviate this feeling by doing a little online window shopping. It always makes me feel a bit better and it seems like as good a time as any to get a little bit distracted.
Imagine my distress then when I realized that THERE'S NOTHING I WANT TO BUY. I can't even think of anywhere to shop! An odd sensation, I assure you. I honestly can't even remember where all the things I currently own came from. All right that's figurative, but like... the shorts I'm wearing was a Dick's purchase, my t-shirt was from a concert, my sweatshirt Bear Necessities, the bra was the result of a fun morning at Victoria's Secret, and I can't remember what underwear I have on but I'm sure it's really old anyways.
So... what now?
Imagine my distress then when I realized that THERE'S NOTHING I WANT TO BUY. I can't even think of anywhere to shop! An odd sensation, I assure you. I honestly can't even remember where all the things I currently own came from. All right that's figurative, but like... the shorts I'm wearing was a Dick's purchase, my t-shirt was from a concert, my sweatshirt Bear Necessities, the bra was the result of a fun morning at Victoria's Secret, and I can't remember what underwear I have on but I'm sure it's really old anyways.
So... what now?
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I count!
After weeks of hand-wringing and nervous ranting:
So it's not too crazy to believe that my vote was in there somewhere today!
So it's not too crazy to believe that my vote was in there somewhere today!
Monday, October 20, 2008
kind of grossed out
in the course of my stalking, i have discovered two dead mosquitoes in this room. one was... long gone and kind of white, and that one was under the cabinet. then was another fresher one by the closet. i would like to believe that that's this evening's nemesis, but... that might be wishful thinking. meanwhile i'm extremely sleepy. functioning tomorrow will likely be an issue.
trying to lure it out with my laptop. if no response soon i'm probably just going to pass out.
trying to lure it out with my laptop. if no response soon i'm probably just going to pass out.
vengeance will be mine
there are two things in the world i wish i had. ok, while we're at it, there are 3. one is my absentee ballot. come on warren county board of elections! wake up you bastards!
not long ago, i knew the joys of peaceful slumber. i fell asleep some time after 12, and again, not long after awoke having been supped on. i was PISSED. i now have turned on all the lights in my room and have been mounting an all-out offensive on the biggest ugliest flying blood-sucking piece of shit. it will not survive this night, and, granted how tired i am, neither might i. also, it's only big because it's full of my blood and i will not rest until its insides are smeared on the walls.
so, back to those things i wish i had. 1) a citronella candle. i have what is apparently a mosquito repeller, but what i want is one of those things that draws them in and then kills them. i recall the picnic table at our campout back when, and what i waaant is a killing field of mosquitoes. 2) one of those electrified badminton rackets that they've developed over here expressly for frying these little fuckers. I did used to have one of those in Beijing and I am going out tomorrow and buying another one and keeping it by my bed like a shotgun.
if you can't tell i'm really angry and itchy and sleep-deprived. i am doing the latimes crossword.
not long ago, i knew the joys of peaceful slumber. i fell asleep some time after 12, and again, not long after awoke having been supped on. i was PISSED. i now have turned on all the lights in my room and have been mounting an all-out offensive on the biggest ugliest flying blood-sucking piece of shit. it will not survive this night, and, granted how tired i am, neither might i. also, it's only big because it's full of my blood and i will not rest until its insides are smeared on the walls.
so, back to those things i wish i had. 1) a citronella candle. i have what is apparently a mosquito repeller, but what i want is one of those things that draws them in and then kills them. i recall the picnic table at our campout back when, and what i waaant is a killing field of mosquitoes. 2) one of those electrified badminton rackets that they've developed over here expressly for frying these little fuckers. I did used to have one of those in Beijing and I am going out tomorrow and buying another one and keeping it by my bed like a shotgun.
if you can't tell i'm really angry and itchy and sleep-deprived. i am doing the latimes crossword.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Pfffft. I started the morning by being productive and then spent it all looking at old stuff and reading poems online. None of the other ones I wrote that year are any good, so I shall instead share this one that I just read on the Poetry 180 website.
After Years
Ted Kooser
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
More relevant things to come, I promise! I'll get down to work after lunch :)
After Years
Ted Kooser
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
More relevant things to come, I promise! I'll get down to work after lunch :)
Nostalgia
The google search turned up one or two things of interest, but also revealed that one can no longer find the pastel plant still-life I did in 11th grade or the crappy poem I submitted to Sam's website so that she'd have participants just by typing my name into a search engine. That may be for the best. And I went to flip through the crappy poetry I wrote as a sophomore for a creative writing class and discovered that none of it is on this computer. After a search through the piles of old webmail that I had forwarded to my new address before the Cornell system locked us out, I found it. And it's embarrassing, but you know... why the heck not? Oh GEEZ.
Hitchhiker
On the way from point A to point B
I discovered a bashful little stowaway,
A miracle and a chance meeting,
A grasshopper on my dashboard.
I discovered the bashful little stowaway,
Sitting demurely on top of my stereo,
A grasshopper on my dashboard,
Politely enduring my taste in loud music.
Sitting demurely atop the stereo,
He eyed the messy passenger seat with obvious indifference,
Politely enduring my exceptionally loud music,
As a vortex billowed outside the open windows.
He eyed the messy passenger seat with indifference,
And I wondered if he was as worried as I was
About the vortex billowing beyond the open windows,
If he were the daredevil type.
I wondered if he was as worried as I was,
I’d never want a guest to go flying out the window,
Even if he were the daredevil type,
Especially one so accepting of the hectic state of my car.
I’d never want my guest to go flying out the window
Before we reached our destination,
And he modestly accepts me with my hectic car.
I marveled at the bonds between strangers.
Before we’d reached a destination,
On the way from point A to point B,
I marveled at the random bond between strangers,
A miracle, and a chance meeting.
Hitchhiker
On the way from point A to point B
I discovered a bashful little stowaway,
A miracle and a chance meeting,
A grasshopper on my dashboard.
I discovered the bashful little stowaway,
Sitting demurely on top of my stereo,
A grasshopper on my dashboard,
Politely enduring my taste in loud music.
Sitting demurely atop the stereo,
He eyed the messy passenger seat with obvious indifference,
Politely enduring my exceptionally loud music,
As a vortex billowed outside the open windows.
He eyed the messy passenger seat with indifference,
And I wondered if he was as worried as I was
About the vortex billowing beyond the open windows,
If he were the daredevil type.
I wondered if he was as worried as I was,
I’d never want a guest to go flying out the window,
Even if he were the daredevil type,
Especially one so accepting of the hectic state of my car.
I’d never want my guest to go flying out the window
Before we reached our destination,
And he modestly accepts me with my hectic car.
I marveled at the bonds between strangers.
Before we’d reached a destination,
On the way from point A to point B,
I marveled at the random bond between strangers,
A miracle, and a chance meeting.
Refugee from another blog
Felt inclined to google myself today... and came across this blog entry on imeem. I decided to move it over here, but deleted the original just because.
The Downfall of my Junior Year
For anyone who's interested, I'm file sharing my art history 395 paper for a limited time. This is the paper that nearly killed me this semester... the one for which I'd had all the info and research for for weeks but which still ended up a tortuous week and a half late. This is funny for a few reasons...
1) I'm only posting it because I saw that there's a section for file sharing but it's the only thing I could think of to share off of my laptop. On the other hand, my sharing it actually makes a lot of sense.
2) Alice is currently my only friend, therefore, the only person who would even have the opportunity to read it if she wanted to.
3) I still don't think it's a very good paper.
Oooh well.
BTW, the picture is from a pattern called "Ladder of Clouds" found a book by Traude Gavin called Iban Textiles. I thought it was appropriate. I honestly loved my topic and my professor, obviously so much that my blood curdled before it could reach my brain, which suffered immensely from the diversion.
Thank goodness that's in the past now. I really do owe a lot to every single person that was supportive of me during my meltdown even though I'm pretty sure it didn't make any sense to anyone.
So.. Onwards and upwards!
Just don't ask me what grade I got. I won't tell!
Monday, October 13, 2008
As for lunch today...
The first task... ok, wait, the second task that was ever assigned to me here was to assist the TEDA Public Library with their English website. What that currently means is that I'm translating the Recent News section of it, which is a lot like pouring acid onto my brain. Directly. It's certainly cool, and it's great for my Chinese, but after about 2 arduous translations I'm pretty much unable to continue. But that's just setting the stage.
Today was my second day at the library, and I had to leave about an hour and a half after I got there. As I learned, a hot pot (actually more like shabu shabu) restaurant had invited the folks from the nursing home for lunch at 11. We were invited too. I feel a little weird taking part in events with the nursing home because they typically involve my getting fed somehow despite not having actually ever volunteered for them. Yeah right, I feel really weird. But I went this time determined to be really nice. The restaurant was at the Shimin Guangchang, which is... well I wanna say it's usually a term given to a public square. In TEDA it refers to a mall, which was more or less deserted at this time of day. When the seniors arrived, I went down with Sunny to collect them. I didn't really know what I was supposed to be doing, but in the end wound up having to chase some of the speedier old men into the building and show them up the escalator. The man I specifically had to follow started the walk with a cigarette and tried to throw it into a trashcan. Fortunately he couldn't get it open. I told him that we could wait until we got up to the restaurant and they would probably have ash trays there. But by the time we got on the escalator, the cigarette was gone. I looked around but saw no trace of it. Turns out we were in a non-smoking establishment anyways.
The hot pot was all right. Lots of veggies. I really can't eat lamb at all anymore though I realize now. The man I was sitting next to kept taking my dipping sauces. Which was fine, obviously, since they weren't MY dipping sauces, but I just thought it was really funny. The seniors took up most of the restaurant, all in their matching long-sleeved polos. It was really nice to see them enjoying their lunch!
Afterwards, well... after an obligatory photo-session that I again questioned my part in, we all got up and walked around the mall. During much of this time I was trying to remove a chopstick splinter from my hand. Speaking of, I noticed that one of the men had torn one of his chopsticks into bits to fashion a toothpick. I eventually ended up by one of the more lively and much older men, who was being helped along by a really sweet volunteer. She attempted to indicate to him that I'm an American. I'm not really sure what she said, but since she said it in English it set him off. He turned to me and was very excited about speaking to me. I'm not 100% sure of everything that was said and what I agreed to or not, but he was awesome and made me laugh. While waiting for the elevator, he sought me out again and proceeded to give the cutest old man rant of all time. He insisted that the China Construction Bank had done everyone a disservice by translating its own name wrong. He felt that it should be Construction Bank of China. Which... makes sense. He set down a number of other examples and rationale, but alas, I had no idea what he was saying to me. Mostly I just nodded and the other girls laughed at me.
We saw them off then rode back in a sweet rickety van. Then I went to finish the translation from hell and when I did I was happy.
I need to say something about Shine home and probably last week, but... I'm starting to feel unbalanced in my typing again and it's making me really anxious and uncomfortable. I don't think I'll ever be able to type in peace again actually. That's kinda sad...
Today was my second day at the library, and I had to leave about an hour and a half after I got there. As I learned, a hot pot (actually more like shabu shabu) restaurant had invited the folks from the nursing home for lunch at 11. We were invited too. I feel a little weird taking part in events with the nursing home because they typically involve my getting fed somehow despite not having actually ever volunteered for them. Yeah right, I feel really weird. But I went this time determined to be really nice. The restaurant was at the Shimin Guangchang, which is... well I wanna say it's usually a term given to a public square. In TEDA it refers to a mall, which was more or less deserted at this time of day. When the seniors arrived, I went down with Sunny to collect them. I didn't really know what I was supposed to be doing, but in the end wound up having to chase some of the speedier old men into the building and show them up the escalator. The man I specifically had to follow started the walk with a cigarette and tried to throw it into a trashcan. Fortunately he couldn't get it open. I told him that we could wait until we got up to the restaurant and they would probably have ash trays there. But by the time we got on the escalator, the cigarette was gone. I looked around but saw no trace of it. Turns out we were in a non-smoking establishment anyways.
The hot pot was all right. Lots of veggies. I really can't eat lamb at all anymore though I realize now. The man I was sitting next to kept taking my dipping sauces. Which was fine, obviously, since they weren't MY dipping sauces, but I just thought it was really funny. The seniors took up most of the restaurant, all in their matching long-sleeved polos. It was really nice to see them enjoying their lunch!
Afterwards, well... after an obligatory photo-session that I again questioned my part in, we all got up and walked around the mall. During much of this time I was trying to remove a chopstick splinter from my hand. Speaking of, I noticed that one of the men had torn one of his chopsticks into bits to fashion a toothpick. I eventually ended up by one of the more lively and much older men, who was being helped along by a really sweet volunteer. She attempted to indicate to him that I'm an American. I'm not really sure what she said, but since she said it in English it set him off. He turned to me and was very excited about speaking to me. I'm not 100% sure of everything that was said and what I agreed to or not, but he was awesome and made me laugh. While waiting for the elevator, he sought me out again and proceeded to give the cutest old man rant of all time. He insisted that the China Construction Bank had done everyone a disservice by translating its own name wrong. He felt that it should be Construction Bank of China. Which... makes sense. He set down a number of other examples and rationale, but alas, I had no idea what he was saying to me. Mostly I just nodded and the other girls laughed at me.
We saw them off then rode back in a sweet rickety van. Then I went to finish the translation from hell and when I did I was happy.
I need to say something about Shine home and probably last week, but... I'm starting to feel unbalanced in my typing again and it's making me really anxious and uncomfortable. I don't think I'll ever be able to type in peace again actually. That's kinda sad...
Thanks, eh?
I almost don't know how to begin. I haven't had any time in the past week to just sit down by myself and write anything here. I tried sorting out my finances just now and was simply unable to account for any of my activities the past few days. But of course, any good elementary school math student learns how to work backwards...
Tonight I celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving. Well, sort of. I celebrated it in the sense that I went to a place that was celebrating it and proceeded to eat a lot. An expat-run restaurant and bar called Parrot hosts Thanksgiving buffets (2) every year, and I didn't know anything about it until after I walked through the door. Last week Mrs. L introduced me to a woman who was looking to rent out a room. She's nice and her apartment's great, but totally out of my price range. Also she has two cats that are really crafty and like... mind-control you into petting them, regardless of how allergic you are. Anyways, she'd reserved a table at this event and invited me to come along.
I'd like to say that if you're in TEDA and really into Thanksgiving, this restaurant is where you want to be on this day of the year. I thought we would just be sitting in a big group, ordering off the menu, and running up your typical slightly-more-than-chinese-food-but-still-not-gut-wrenching bill. But yeah, actually, all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet. I met her friends, mostly teachers at an international school, and then the owner came by to let us know that we could get our turkeys whenever we wanted. He's a suuuper-nice oldish gent with a southern drawl, and I asked him later where he's originally from. North Carolina! Anyways, I was like wow, turkey, what? But he directed us to the buffet while they brought out the birds. At the buffet: green beans, corn & red peppers, salad, sweet potatoes, cheesy broccoli, aaaaand STUFFING and MASHED POTATOES.
I really hadn't planned on eating any western-style foods for the next few months, for a number of reasons. But MAN I was happy to smell that stuffing. It was real quality stuff, and the potatoes were nice too. Gravy and cranberry sauce were also more than satisfactory. The owner came by and ladled a bunch of it into bowls for us to keep at our tables. At the tables were two honest to goodnest huo ji. I have no idea where they came from.
I really don't know how to stop eating Thanksgiving food. So I had a lot. And then went for pie and chocolate... torte? Should have skipped the chocolate. It was not what I wanted. But there was sweet potato pie and pumpkin pie. And lots of real whipped cream.
How much was it? Y150. Luckily I happened to have that amount in my purse, otherwise I might have been embarrassed. Ok, I would definitely have been embarrassed. I would pretty much venture that I would usually never disburse such an amount for a meal. Oh, and by today's exchange rate, that's about $21.9535... but that's a lot of money kind of.
It was really tasty food though and fun company. Glad I went!
Just remembered: severely apocalyptic dream last night. Like... I'm pretty sure the world was honestly ending. The moon crashed down anyways. And other stuff happened. Scary stuff.
Tonight I celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving. Well, sort of. I celebrated it in the sense that I went to a place that was celebrating it and proceeded to eat a lot. An expat-run restaurant and bar called Parrot hosts Thanksgiving buffets (2) every year, and I didn't know anything about it until after I walked through the door. Last week Mrs. L introduced me to a woman who was looking to rent out a room. She's nice and her apartment's great, but totally out of my price range. Also she has two cats that are really crafty and like... mind-control you into petting them, regardless of how allergic you are. Anyways, she'd reserved a table at this event and invited me to come along.
I'd like to say that if you're in TEDA and really into Thanksgiving, this restaurant is where you want to be on this day of the year. I thought we would just be sitting in a big group, ordering off the menu, and running up your typical slightly-more-than-chinese-food-but-still-not-gut-wrenching bill. But yeah, actually, all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet. I met her friends, mostly teachers at an international school, and then the owner came by to let us know that we could get our turkeys whenever we wanted. He's a suuuper-nice oldish gent with a southern drawl, and I asked him later where he's originally from. North Carolina! Anyways, I was like wow, turkey, what? But he directed us to the buffet while they brought out the birds. At the buffet: green beans, corn & red peppers, salad, sweet potatoes, cheesy broccoli, aaaaand STUFFING and MASHED POTATOES.
I really hadn't planned on eating any western-style foods for the next few months, for a number of reasons. But MAN I was happy to smell that stuffing. It was real quality stuff, and the potatoes were nice too. Gravy and cranberry sauce were also more than satisfactory. The owner came by and ladled a bunch of it into bowls for us to keep at our tables. At the tables were two honest to goodnest huo ji. I have no idea where they came from.
I really don't know how to stop eating Thanksgiving food. So I had a lot. And then went for pie and chocolate... torte? Should have skipped the chocolate. It was not what I wanted. But there was sweet potato pie and pumpkin pie. And lots of real whipped cream.
How much was it? Y150. Luckily I happened to have that amount in my purse, otherwise I might have been embarrassed. Ok, I would definitely have been embarrassed. I would pretty much venture that I would usually never disburse such an amount for a meal. Oh, and by today's exchange rate, that's about $21.9535... but that's a lot of money kind of.
It was really tasty food though and fun company. Glad I went!
Just remembered: severely apocalyptic dream last night. Like... I'm pretty sure the world was honestly ending. The moon crashed down anyways. And other stuff happened. Scary stuff.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Don't tread on me
I heard this story after dinner today. A better version, obviously, and in Chinese, so forgive me. I'm a little unclear as to how the scene was set up, but let's say it takes place at Tiantan (the temple of heaven).
At the Temple of Heaven, the grass was full of ducks, and it was very difficult to navigate around them. God declared that anyone who stepped on one would be sorry. There were three women in the park, and the first started to walk through the grass. However, she accidentally stepped on a duck. God then paired her with an ugly husband. The second woman started walking through the grass and tried to be as careful as possible to avoid stepping on a duck. Unfortunately she also accidentally stepped on one and was paired with an even uglier husband than the first woman. The third woman was terrified, and started walking through the grass. She managed to make it through without stepping on a single duck! She was paired with a strong, tall, handsome husband. A catch, if you will. She couldn't believe her luck! Wondering how she could ever have been so fortunate, she turned to him and said, "Wow, what did I ever do to deserve a man as wonderful as you?" He replied, "I don't know, but I stepped on one of those ducks back there."
At the Temple of Heaven, the grass was full of ducks, and it was very difficult to navigate around them. God declared that anyone who stepped on one would be sorry. There were three women in the park, and the first started to walk through the grass. However, she accidentally stepped on a duck. God then paired her with an ugly husband. The second woman started walking through the grass and tried to be as careful as possible to avoid stepping on a duck. Unfortunately she also accidentally stepped on one and was paired with an even uglier husband than the first woman. The third woman was terrified, and started walking through the grass. She managed to make it through without stepping on a single duck! She was paired with a strong, tall, handsome husband. A catch, if you will. She couldn't believe her luck! Wondering how she could ever have been so fortunate, she turned to him and said, "Wow, what did I ever do to deserve a man as wonderful as you?" He replied, "I don't know, but I stepped on one of those ducks back there."
Nomenclature
This is what my name means.
Before we were born, my grandfather drew up a list of names for our parents to snatch up on our behalf on a first-come-first-served basis. As the story has it, by being the second-born girl in our generation, I managed to get the second-best name on the list, beating out Selina by two years and also slightly annoying her parents.
Here it is in traditional characters: 潘絢愷 (pan1 xuan4 kai3)
Today as we went from office to office meeting various managers and higher-up sorts, I ended up in front of a man who asked what the last character in my name means. Now that you know where this is headed, I'm going to veer off a bit.
The first character, of course, is Pan, the family name. That's what's engraved on the giant headstone in the graveyard in Springdale where we all have plots.
Once, back in either junior high or high school, Selina brought up the topic of Chinese dictionaries during a phone conversation. At that point I'd already dropped out of Chinese school and was mostly uninterested in the topic, but when we started wondering what our names meant, I asked my mom to pull one out and show me how to use it. This was, of course, before the internet and looong before zhongwen.com or any of those other fancy online dictionaries. Dictionaries for the traditional system are really fascinating things, and definitions are itemized by radical and stroke count. So you really kind of have to know what you're doing in order to navigate one. Anyways, we looked up the character pan, and discovered that it refers to the water in which one washes rice. It's not one of those words that ever comes up in conversation, at least not as far as I can tell, having been relegated to the status of a popular surname instead.
Xuan is the generational name for girls in our family, so Christine, Selina, and I all have 2 out of 3 characters in common. I looked this up with my mom too, and she returned that it meant "bright." After I got into college and was regularly looking up words on the internet, I double-checked all of these, and got basically the same definitions. The MDBG dictionary corroborates the meaning as "brilliant," but also adds "adorned," "swift," "gorgeous," and, uh, "variegated." Whenever I hear Chinese people describing my name to other Chinese people, they describe this word by using the phrase "xuan li," which means gorgeous or magnificent. But usually people can guess which one of the various xuans we're dealing with, and I'm guessing that it's common enough in girls' names. For example, no one's ever mistaken the xuan in my name for the one which apparently means "lathe/thread in screw."
I remember back when I first started attending Chinese school, we were in a dark ornate part of the church, seated around a big table, and since we were most of us too young to have any clue how to go about writing our names on our papers (in traditional, no less), the teachers were doing it for us. It went swiftly for the most part, but then they got to me and the process stalled. There was some confusion as to which kai served as the last third of my name. They discussed briefly, then wrote down two characters, showing them to me and asking if either seemed familiar. I didn't even really know what I was looking at. After some more deliberation, they decided it was more likely to be one than the other, and wrote it down and moved on. It was SO COOL to have my name written down on my stuff, right? When class ended, I went to show my mom right away and she was nonplussed. She told me that that... wasn't my name. I was stricken. We went up to the teachers and they said that they had been confused and showed her the other option that they'd come up with. She said, "oh no, it's not that one either." Eh? said the teachers.
So, this is the character that everyone invariably assumes it to be. 凱, as in 凱旋 (kai xuan). It means triumphant, and the phrase means to return triumphant (according to MDBG).
When I started Chinese 109 my freshman year at Cornell, there was one morning that the teacher went around the room and commented on everyone's name. I was told that my name was a boy's name.
While hanging around the copy shop in Baotou waiting for one thing or another, the owner and his daughter(?) asked me if I had a Chinese name. I gladly told them, and the girl-- who I'd liked pretty well up until that point-- turned to the owner and said that it didn't sound good.
When I told the fruit seller what my name was, he said he liked it. I had to write it out so that he could see the character. He said it was unusual, but that it made more sense once knowing the character, and that it was fitting.
In Muping, they just called me 小潘 (xiao pan) which means, literally, Little Pan. It's a common enough nickname though, since according to my host here, that's what they used to call my dad in college.
In Baotou, no one would call me by my Chinese name. Instead I was Kai se lin, to go with the official name on my documents, or, for some reason, Cathy/kai xi/combination of both. The one time in my life I've ever let the name Cathy happen to me, and I still shudder a bit.
I understand the necessity of going with a Chinese version of the name on my passport since the name by which I've been known in my family all my life is devoid of any officiality, existing nowhere outside of my family, our friends, certain classrooms, and my Chinese homework. How weird is that?
So, today, I was sitting with my host at the desk of one of the important people with whom I ought to be acquainted and he asked me what my name was. After hearing it, and saying it, he asked me about the meaning. What does the "kai" mean? From our dictionary, my mom had come up with "victory," and that's the meaning I've held to throughout the years. Mrs. L didn't know, so I told her what I thought it might be, and she translated for me. They discussed it a bit more and she decided to have one of the girls in her office look it up when we got back.
In the office, the Chinese Literature major was assigned the task of checking online for the definitive answer. I expected her to eventually just come up with a few synonyms and phrases and have that be the end of it. Instead, she very sweetly gave me a great explanation.
Back to the character: 愷. It's made up of two parts. The first, the line and two dots on the left, is the radical and it's actually a variant of 心, which means heart. The other part means happiness or joy. According to zhongwen.com, it also means celebrate. So one meaning is happiness or joyfulness. She went further to say that it describes someone who is good and can bring that joy to others. Another dictionary definition is "kind." There's a second meaning, which basically translates as "easy-going." I was surprised to not hear the meaning that I believed it to have all this time. Then she found one more. It also refers to the type of song played by a party, I picture an army of some sort, after a victory. Her favorite was the second, easy-going.
Ok sorry, this ended up being far longer and more involved than what I'd initially intended, which was a paragraph-- maybe two-- just about today's encounters. But anyways, this morning I loved my name, but I had no idea that it was so... cool. It's funny to me a lot of times that I was given an English name that people appear destined to be misspell for eternity, and a Chinese name that's so easily misunderstood.
I felt really happy while she was explaining it to me, like a shade was being lifted or like a massive spit-shine was taking place. Aside from actually being able to share this information with others from now on, I discovered that my name is something that's really worth living up to. I remember when I cornered Prof. Zimbardo after his lecture at the WAC and asked him to write one of his favorite inspirational quotes in my book, he sort of misunderstood and instead wrote an inspirational message directed at me. Basically, it's the hope that whoever I meet, I manage to make them feel special and glad to have known me. That's what popped into my head during this conversation today.
Hopefully I'll be able to do justice to these three words that are such a special part of who I am. I've got my fingers crossed, anyways. Remember: be optimistic and kind, joyful and at ease, and smile until people start smiling back.
Before we were born, my grandfather drew up a list of names for our parents to snatch up on our behalf on a first-come-first-served basis. As the story has it, by being the second-born girl in our generation, I managed to get the second-best name on the list, beating out Selina by two years and also slightly annoying her parents.
Here it is in traditional characters: 潘絢愷 (pan1 xuan4 kai3)
Today as we went from office to office meeting various managers and higher-up sorts, I ended up in front of a man who asked what the last character in my name means. Now that you know where this is headed, I'm going to veer off a bit.
The first character, of course, is Pan, the family name. That's what's engraved on the giant headstone in the graveyard in Springdale where we all have plots.
Once, back in either junior high or high school, Selina brought up the topic of Chinese dictionaries during a phone conversation. At that point I'd already dropped out of Chinese school and was mostly uninterested in the topic, but when we started wondering what our names meant, I asked my mom to pull one out and show me how to use it. This was, of course, before the internet and looong before zhongwen.com or any of those other fancy online dictionaries. Dictionaries for the traditional system are really fascinating things, and definitions are itemized by radical and stroke count. So you really kind of have to know what you're doing in order to navigate one. Anyways, we looked up the character pan, and discovered that it refers to the water in which one washes rice. It's not one of those words that ever comes up in conversation, at least not as far as I can tell, having been relegated to the status of a popular surname instead.
Xuan is the generational name for girls in our family, so Christine, Selina, and I all have 2 out of 3 characters in common. I looked this up with my mom too, and she returned that it meant "bright." After I got into college and was regularly looking up words on the internet, I double-checked all of these, and got basically the same definitions. The MDBG dictionary corroborates the meaning as "brilliant," but also adds "adorned," "swift," "gorgeous," and, uh, "variegated." Whenever I hear Chinese people describing my name to other Chinese people, they describe this word by using the phrase "xuan li," which means gorgeous or magnificent. But usually people can guess which one of the various xuans we're dealing with, and I'm guessing that it's common enough in girls' names. For example, no one's ever mistaken the xuan in my name for the one which apparently means "lathe/thread in screw."
I remember back when I first started attending Chinese school, we were in a dark ornate part of the church, seated around a big table, and since we were most of us too young to have any clue how to go about writing our names on our papers (in traditional, no less), the teachers were doing it for us. It went swiftly for the most part, but then they got to me and the process stalled. There was some confusion as to which kai served as the last third of my name. They discussed briefly, then wrote down two characters, showing them to me and asking if either seemed familiar. I didn't even really know what I was looking at. After some more deliberation, they decided it was more likely to be one than the other, and wrote it down and moved on. It was SO COOL to have my name written down on my stuff, right? When class ended, I went to show my mom right away and she was nonplussed. She told me that that... wasn't my name. I was stricken. We went up to the teachers and they said that they had been confused and showed her the other option that they'd come up with. She said, "oh no, it's not that one either." Eh? said the teachers.
So, this is the character that everyone invariably assumes it to be. 凱, as in 凱旋 (kai xuan). It means triumphant, and the phrase means to return triumphant (according to MDBG).
When I started Chinese 109 my freshman year at Cornell, there was one morning that the teacher went around the room and commented on everyone's name. I was told that my name was a boy's name.
While hanging around the copy shop in Baotou waiting for one thing or another, the owner and his daughter(?) asked me if I had a Chinese name. I gladly told them, and the girl-- who I'd liked pretty well up until that point-- turned to the owner and said that it didn't sound good.
When I told the fruit seller what my name was, he said he liked it. I had to write it out so that he could see the character. He said it was unusual, but that it made more sense once knowing the character, and that it was fitting.
In Muping, they just called me 小潘 (xiao pan) which means, literally, Little Pan. It's a common enough nickname though, since according to my host here, that's what they used to call my dad in college.
In Baotou, no one would call me by my Chinese name. Instead I was Kai se lin, to go with the official name on my documents, or, for some reason, Cathy/kai xi/combination of both. The one time in my life I've ever let the name Cathy happen to me, and I still shudder a bit.
I understand the necessity of going with a Chinese version of the name on my passport since the name by which I've been known in my family all my life is devoid of any officiality, existing nowhere outside of my family, our friends, certain classrooms, and my Chinese homework. How weird is that?
So, today, I was sitting with my host at the desk of one of the important people with whom I ought to be acquainted and he asked me what my name was. After hearing it, and saying it, he asked me about the meaning. What does the "kai" mean? From our dictionary, my mom had come up with "victory," and that's the meaning I've held to throughout the years. Mrs. L didn't know, so I told her what I thought it might be, and she translated for me. They discussed it a bit more and she decided to have one of the girls in her office look it up when we got back.
In the office, the Chinese Literature major was assigned the task of checking online for the definitive answer. I expected her to eventually just come up with a few synonyms and phrases and have that be the end of it. Instead, she very sweetly gave me a great explanation.
Back to the character: 愷. It's made up of two parts. The first, the line and two dots on the left, is the radical and it's actually a variant of 心, which means heart. The other part means happiness or joy. According to zhongwen.com, it also means celebrate. So one meaning is happiness or joyfulness. She went further to say that it describes someone who is good and can bring that joy to others. Another dictionary definition is "kind." There's a second meaning, which basically translates as "easy-going." I was surprised to not hear the meaning that I believed it to have all this time. Then she found one more. It also refers to the type of song played by a party, I picture an army of some sort, after a victory. Her favorite was the second, easy-going.
Ok sorry, this ended up being far longer and more involved than what I'd initially intended, which was a paragraph-- maybe two-- just about today's encounters. But anyways, this morning I loved my name, but I had no idea that it was so... cool. It's funny to me a lot of times that I was given an English name that people appear destined to be misspell for eternity, and a Chinese name that's so easily misunderstood.
I felt really happy while she was explaining it to me, like a shade was being lifted or like a massive spit-shine was taking place. Aside from actually being able to share this information with others from now on, I discovered that my name is something that's really worth living up to. I remember when I cornered Prof. Zimbardo after his lecture at the WAC and asked him to write one of his favorite inspirational quotes in my book, he sort of misunderstood and instead wrote an inspirational message directed at me. Basically, it's the hope that whoever I meet, I manage to make them feel special and glad to have known me. That's what popped into my head during this conversation today.
Hopefully I'll be able to do justice to these three words that are such a special part of who I am. I've got my fingers crossed, anyways. Remember: be optimistic and kind, joyful and at ease, and smile until people start smiling back.
Visa clarification
This one's for future reference.
We went to the PSB today so that I could register my presence. We didn't have all (ok, why is spell check telling me that "didn't" is spelled wrong?) the necessary materials, but the officer went ahead and looked over my passport anyways to take a look at my visa. In the process, she answered a question that had been plaguing me for most of August but which no one unofficial could answer.
For the record, my visa's an (F) type multiple entry, valid from September 19, 2008 until the same date in 2009. The duration of each stay is 120 days after entry. What this translates into is permission to enter initially at any point between the valid dates. However, once I've entered once, the 120 day countdown begins. I can exit and re-enter as many times as I want, but only until the 120 days pass. At that point, my visa is considered expired and I would need to either extend it here or otherwise apply for a new one.
The question I'd been asking before was: If one gets a double-or-more entry visa with, say, a 90-day duration, is that 90 days per entry or 90 days total? Well, it's 90 days total, which makes just slightly more sense considering that we are in fact dealing with a system, but just in case there was room to wiggle around in, I wanted to know that it was there.
Anyways, this means that my visa's only really valid until I go home for Christmas, at which point I'll have some more paperwork to muss with. Luckily it looks like things might go more smoothly now that I'm here.
We went to the PSB today so that I could register my presence. We didn't have all (ok, why is spell check telling me that "didn't" is spelled wrong?) the necessary materials, but the officer went ahead and looked over my passport anyways to take a look at my visa. In the process, she answered a question that had been plaguing me for most of August but which no one unofficial could answer.
For the record, my visa's an (F) type multiple entry, valid from September 19, 2008 until the same date in 2009. The duration of each stay is 120 days after entry. What this translates into is permission to enter initially at any point between the valid dates. However, once I've entered once, the 120 day countdown begins. I can exit and re-enter as many times as I want, but only until the 120 days pass. At that point, my visa is considered expired and I would need to either extend it here or otherwise apply for a new one.
The question I'd been asking before was: If one gets a double-or-more entry visa with, say, a 90-day duration, is that 90 days per entry or 90 days total? Well, it's 90 days total, which makes just slightly more sense considering that we are in fact dealing with a system, but just in case there was room to wiggle around in, I wanted to know that it was there.
Anyways, this means that my visa's only really valid until I go home for Christmas, at which point I'll have some more paperwork to muss with. Luckily it looks like things might go more smoothly now that I'm here.
Friday, October 03, 2008
This is dedicated...
Mainly to Steph Glass because this is our poem, but also to anyone who is/has been/will be anything. The words popped into my head earlier today and I felt like it was about time to share them again, because I do still love this poem.
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine . . .
Jacques Crickillon
Billy Collins, “Litany” from Nine Horses. Copyright © 2002 by Billy Collins. Reprinted with the permission of Random House, Inc.
Litany
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine . . .
Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.
Billy Collins, “Litany” from Nine Horses. Copyright © 2002 by Billy Collins. Reprinted with the permission of Random House, Inc.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Twice Shy
Last night I went to bed at some point after 12:30.
I dreamt, possibly of momentous things, but then in my dream I started feeling itchy. Oh crap I remember now. I was dreaming about Sarah Palin... I was watching her on TV and was convinced that she was somehow making me itch. Then I started waking up, and was in a semi-delirious state, scratching at various parts of my arms and trying to get back to sleep. Then I realized that I was honestly very itchy and scratching at swollen bumps and freaked out. I thought it must be like 6 or 7 in the morning, but when I turned the light on, I discovered it was only 2:50. I decided to go to the bathroom mirror to check myself out, and there I found 4 large fresh white-hot welts on my arms and index finger. I continued cussing in amazement. I was still pretty out of it and my mind raced to explain the situation. Usually I'm very sensitive to the sound of mosquitos, so I wasn't sure if that was it. But they didn't look like spider bites, and I ruled out hives and other allergies. For a fleeting moment I feared bedbugs (OK, I always fear bedbugs), but having thrown the sheets around in search of any insectoid culprit and come up clean, it seemed like it had to have been a mosquito after all. Still couldn't find any sign of one in the room though, and I thought that any single mosquito only bit like once or something before going off to lay eggs... or something.
Anyways, in the course of 2 hours, I acquired my 2nd-5th mosquito bites all year. There's another reason San Francisco rules. They have since swollen pink to the standard size of an inch or two in diameter. I'm lucky though... even if I somehow drew my attacker in with my smooth skin and comely ways, it seems my exposed face wasn't quite attractive enough to be ravished the way the rest of me was. It came away unscathed.
I dreamt, possibly of momentous things, but then in my dream I started feeling itchy. Oh crap I remember now. I was dreaming about Sarah Palin... I was watching her on TV and was convinced that she was somehow making me itch. Then I started waking up, and was in a semi-delirious state, scratching at various parts of my arms and trying to get back to sleep. Then I realized that I was honestly very itchy and scratching at swollen bumps and freaked out. I thought it must be like 6 or 7 in the morning, but when I turned the light on, I discovered it was only 2:50. I decided to go to the bathroom mirror to check myself out, and there I found 4 large fresh white-hot welts on my arms and index finger. I continued cussing in amazement. I was still pretty out of it and my mind raced to explain the situation. Usually I'm very sensitive to the sound of mosquitos, so I wasn't sure if that was it. But they didn't look like spider bites, and I ruled out hives and other allergies. For a fleeting moment I feared bedbugs (OK, I always fear bedbugs), but having thrown the sheets around in search of any insectoid culprit and come up clean, it seemed like it had to have been a mosquito after all. Still couldn't find any sign of one in the room though, and I thought that any single mosquito only bit like once or something before going off to lay eggs... or something.
Anyways, in the course of 2 hours, I acquired my 2nd-5th mosquito bites all year. There's another reason San Francisco rules. They have since swollen pink to the standard size of an inch or two in diameter. I'm lucky though... even if I somehow drew my attacker in with my smooth skin and comely ways, it seems my exposed face wasn't quite attractive enough to be ravished the way the rest of me was. It came away unscathed.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
I have arrived
Turns out that my flight from Newark was only 13 hours.
The embraer, though small, was comfortable enough for me, and I liked not having to sit next to anyone. It wasn't a very full plane though, and the other passengers were mostly jovial suited men. I slept, obviously, and upon arrival at Newark was so dazed that I could barely follow the trail, which bent oddly, that they had set up on the tarmac. There was a man with a few pieces of paper stapled together and so I thought I had better see if he had an opinion about where I should be heading, considering I had no idea. He directed me to a small shuttle bus sitting off to the side. In it, there was a fellow passenger also on the trek to my terminal, so I decided that I must follow her wherever she went, because she was alert and I was not. I assumed she was alert because she was able to ask questions of the driver. The bus took us to another bus, which I also boarded, ever behind this other woman. That bus did arrive at terminal C.
Terminal C at Newark has to have some of the worst airport bathrooms I've encountered. Concourse C at Dayton wasn't that great either, by the way. Earlier this month I had planned on writing an entry exclusively rating the airport bathrooms I've visited recently, but never got around to it. It's on the table though.
Somehow managed to pass 3 hours there. I think a lot of it happened when I leaned over my backpack for a moment and then promptly fell asleep. I woke up just in time for them to announce that everyone needed to form a single-file line to check in again-- so that they could examine our passports.
I'd thought I'd be seated in 40E (smack center of the plane), but somehow last night I guess I managed to change my seat to 24D, which is an aisle seat in the center row. It was bizarre because when choosing seats after booking, nearly all seats were shown as occupied except for a few non-window-non-aisle seats in the back of the plane. When I unsuccessfully attempted online check-in, though, nearly all of the seats at the front of the plane were available, so I tried to switch. After my attempt failed though (they need to check your passport in person, I guess) I went to view my itinerary again and my seat hadn't changed. And then when I went to look at the seating chart again, I got the original mostly-booked chart with my original seat. So I just ignored it and moved on.
Anyways, it wasn't a very full flight so while boarding, some people got spread out a bit so that people could have more room. The center seat in my row was unoccupied, so not only did I get a second blanket, but I also got to take advantage of the tray table. This excited me.
The 777 had personal TVs on all of the seats, and while they were a pain to navigate, there were some interesting things going on. I watched two movies during the flight: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and How to Eat Fried Worms. The first one was all right... I probably would have enjoyed it a lot less if Lee Pace hadn't been in it. However, I would like to recommend right now that everyone go watch How to Eat Fried Worms. I very very vaguely remember this book from either the 3rd or 4th grade... I think it was well-recieved. The movie though is adorably funny. A lot of those "pffffft" laughter (originally typed lafter... hm) moments, and a lot of those snorkly back of the throat chuckles too.
Did a ton of sleeping. Well, not a ton, but I tried to spend most of my time in a sleeping position with the though that it wouldn't hurt to actually fall asleep. I also spent a lot of time staring at the flight show, at the little airplane making its way along our route and all the info about tail wind speeds, altitudes, and outside temperatures.
A few hours in, we started hitting a lot of turbulence. It's probably not something I would have thought too hard about before this past January, but since the wind-shear/Fresno experience, I've become really paranoid about rocking turbulence. I was wondering what on earth was bouncing such a big plane around so much, and, seeing that we were off the northeastern coast of Canada, concluded that it must have something to do with Kyle, maybe. Maybe that was not the case, but it's all I really had in terms of an explanation. Eventually it subsided, but no one else really seemed that bothered. I was getting rolled around in my seat and folks were still standing up for a leisurely stroll to the bathroom, and only one of them got reprimanded at all.
Yes we were off the northeastern coast of Canada. Our route did not take us over North America and the Pacific like I had for some reason envisioned, nor did we go by way of the Atlantic and Europe as a friend had guessed. Instead, we went straight up over the Artctic and came down through Siberia. Somewhere between 6 and 7 hours in, I got up for a bathroom break and took some pictures of the north pole (or somewhere near it) through the window in the emergency exit. Surprisingly, no one had their windows open. A few of us gawked out for a couple minutes, commenting on the sunlight, then I did my business and went to sit down again.
Meals were eh. I don't think I'll be having the salmon again, though it's partly because of a bad cilantro experience. Dinner came with Milanos though, which I saved, as well as a salad topped with smoked salmon that tasted all right. Later there was a beef and swiss sandwich (more like an oblong sparse swiss burger or LaRosas style hoagie) and a little thing of vanilla haagen daaz. Not bad (kind of a weird combination and if you're lactose intolerant you're screwed), butI don't think I will be eating a whole little thing of ice cream in the future either, because I definitely got like heartburn or something from one or both of those things. Dairy? Lastly came breakfast, which was eggs or "dim sum" and caused a lot of confusion among a lot of passengers. Eventually the attendants started asking "eggs or noodles" by way of clarification. I didn't really know which way to go this time, but ended up going with the thing less likely to make me sick later, meaning not-eggs. The noodles did in fact come with some dim sum items: a pork bun that might have been a bbq pork bun though the filling was odd, a piece of shiu mai that had a large chunk of inedible animal part within, and a leaf of baby bok choi. The accompanying fruit tasted kinda like dish detergent. I haven't had sub-par airline melon in years though, so that was a surprise.
Anyways, that was the obligatory critique of the food, though I should probably follow it by stating that I still appreciate having had the opportunity to enjoy it or not during this flight. I love being served food on the airplane.
Landed in Beijing, just as I remembered it. Entry forms are currently the most straightforward and simple iteration that I've experienced and I wasn't made to fret over an irrelevant customs form this time either.
Got my things and came to the realization that not only could anyone there have just picked them up and walked off with them, but that there's even less safeguard against that in domestic baggage claims in the US. In fact, in Dayton or CVG, anyone could really wander in through the front doors, stand by baggage claim, take however much they wanted, and walk back out through the door. Awesome, right?
Found the driver no problem. Initially I thought I'd have the task of getting on a bus to get on another bus to get on a train to get to where I was going. But my host was really cool and sent a driver to collect me. He took my suitcase and my bag and we made our way into the garage, which is also how I remembered it. I got really nostalgic in there actually. Then we sped through a pedestrian walkway and then nearly ended the life of a sprinting child. He really wasn't paying any attention, though perhaps he wasn't planning on actually running into the path of oncoming traffic in the garage. Even though he stopped in time (he was trying to get some people's attention) he gave me, the driver, and probably his whole family a good pump of adrenaline.
We chatted for a bit and then I was told to get some rest. I tried to say something along the lines of how I'd been resting for the past 13 hours, and I think it worked, but lapsed into silence anyway. I watched traffic patterns and roadside foliage and read the street signs. But then I inevitably fell asleep. I woke up once I think while we were going through Tianjin (or did we go straight to TEDA?) and thought that I should remain conscious to see the city, but fell asleep again until right at the end. The area looks nothing like I expected it might, and the place I'm staying is way nicer than I expected it to be. Mrs. L came down to get me and the two of us moved my things into her apartment.
I got a tour of the rooms and then set up my computer to let my parents know that I'd made it. And there's wireless internet. I also took the opportunity to brush my teeth. My dad was really excited that I'd get to eat his friend's food, so obviously I was excited to. Mrs. L boiled up some squash and chicken dumplings for dinner and they were delicious. Doubly delicious because there was also vinegar involved. God I was so happy when I saw that.
Afterwards, Mrs. L insisted on taking me out to get my feet massaged so that I'd be able to sleep tonight. I'm pretty sure that sleep was always on the docket, but I'll admit that I was enticed by this prospect. Well, enticed and extremely wary because I have a very low tolerance for tickling and that's all I hear when someone says "foot massage."
We walked TEDA's long blocks and she pointed out the landmarks to me. I'd forgotten how positively terrifying it is to cross multi-lane roads here. Maybe I was still in a daze, but there were a couple times that I was confident that the way was clear to walk when a car would advance from the least obvious direction with no intention of sparing anyone in its path. Fortunately Mrs. L saw them all coming.
The massage parlor I guess is run by a friend of hers? We sat down in a room in two comfy chairs and took our shoes and socks off. Two girls came in with buckets of very very hot water that I splashed around in until it was cool enough to just submerge my feet. That felt pretty good. Then the girls came back in and gave us hand and arm massages. Not being a massage person really, I liked this part a lot. My arms have been all out of sorts for months and while this probably didn't do anything to help, it did feel good. Um, it was a bit awkward though because at this point I could look my masseuse in the face and just couldn't think of anything to say to her. So I looked at the ceiling or watched the floor and a little cockroach that was traversing it. At intervals, I'd look up and see it on the wall or on the flat screen TV and wasn't as repulsed as I could have been.
Next I was moved onto a stool so that she could do my back. Ah, ok, I did not like this part. Some of it was appealing, yes, but a lot of it was just pain and her beating the crap out of my lower back. I have no doubt that most of my other friends would have enjoyed this segment of the massage, but it wasn't really for me. At one point the other girl turned around and saw me making the gritted-teeth-wide-eyed cringe and I had to turn it into a smile real fast. She asked me if I was ticklish and so I said yes. I didn't want them to know that I'm a wimp.
Last up came the feet. At first I didn't know if I could make it through without an outburst, but it actually went pretty well. For the feet-- not too ticklish though she kept hitting like a pressure point or something on my instep that was uncomfortable. Also included was a leg massage up to the thigh. I'd closed my eyes at some point and it's possible that I dozed off for a while or something.
And then it was over and we caught a taxi back. I showered, checked the blogs, and then wrote this. Sure, not a masterpiece or anything (unfortunately it looks like it's not entertaining enough to double as an e-mail), but at least now I have all the details accrued thus far.
The embraer, though small, was comfortable enough for me, and I liked not having to sit next to anyone. It wasn't a very full plane though, and the other passengers were mostly jovial suited men. I slept, obviously, and upon arrival at Newark was so dazed that I could barely follow the trail, which bent oddly, that they had set up on the tarmac. There was a man with a few pieces of paper stapled together and so I thought I had better see if he had an opinion about where I should be heading, considering I had no idea. He directed me to a small shuttle bus sitting off to the side. In it, there was a fellow passenger also on the trek to my terminal, so I decided that I must follow her wherever she went, because she was alert and I was not. I assumed she was alert because she was able to ask questions of the driver. The bus took us to another bus, which I also boarded, ever behind this other woman. That bus did arrive at terminal C.
Terminal C at Newark has to have some of the worst airport bathrooms I've encountered. Concourse C at Dayton wasn't that great either, by the way. Earlier this month I had planned on writing an entry exclusively rating the airport bathrooms I've visited recently, but never got around to it. It's on the table though.
Somehow managed to pass 3 hours there. I think a lot of it happened when I leaned over my backpack for a moment and then promptly fell asleep. I woke up just in time for them to announce that everyone needed to form a single-file line to check in again-- so that they could examine our passports.
I'd thought I'd be seated in 40E (smack center of the plane), but somehow last night I guess I managed to change my seat to 24D, which is an aisle seat in the center row. It was bizarre because when choosing seats after booking, nearly all seats were shown as occupied except for a few non-window-non-aisle seats in the back of the plane. When I unsuccessfully attempted online check-in, though, nearly all of the seats at the front of the plane were available, so I tried to switch. After my attempt failed though (they need to check your passport in person, I guess) I went to view my itinerary again and my seat hadn't changed. And then when I went to look at the seating chart again, I got the original mostly-booked chart with my original seat. So I just ignored it and moved on.
Anyways, it wasn't a very full flight so while boarding, some people got spread out a bit so that people could have more room. The center seat in my row was unoccupied, so not only did I get a second blanket, but I also got to take advantage of the tray table. This excited me.
The 777 had personal TVs on all of the seats, and while they were a pain to navigate, there were some interesting things going on. I watched two movies during the flight: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and How to Eat Fried Worms. The first one was all right... I probably would have enjoyed it a lot less if Lee Pace hadn't been in it. However, I would like to recommend right now that everyone go watch How to Eat Fried Worms. I very very vaguely remember this book from either the 3rd or 4th grade... I think it was well-recieved. The movie though is adorably funny. A lot of those "pffffft" laughter (originally typed lafter... hm) moments, and a lot of those snorkly back of the throat chuckles too.
Did a ton of sleeping. Well, not a ton, but I tried to spend most of my time in a sleeping position with the though that it wouldn't hurt to actually fall asleep. I also spent a lot of time staring at the flight show, at the little airplane making its way along our route and all the info about tail wind speeds, altitudes, and outside temperatures.
A few hours in, we started hitting a lot of turbulence. It's probably not something I would have thought too hard about before this past January, but since the wind-shear/Fresno experience, I've become really paranoid about rocking turbulence. I was wondering what on earth was bouncing such a big plane around so much, and, seeing that we were off the northeastern coast of Canada, concluded that it must have something to do with Kyle, maybe. Maybe that was not the case, but it's all I really had in terms of an explanation. Eventually it subsided, but no one else really seemed that bothered. I was getting rolled around in my seat and folks were still standing up for a leisurely stroll to the bathroom, and only one of them got reprimanded at all.
Yes we were off the northeastern coast of Canada. Our route did not take us over North America and the Pacific like I had for some reason envisioned, nor did we go by way of the Atlantic and Europe as a friend had guessed. Instead, we went straight up over the Artctic and came down through Siberia. Somewhere between 6 and 7 hours in, I got up for a bathroom break and took some pictures of the north pole (or somewhere near it) through the window in the emergency exit. Surprisingly, no one had their windows open. A few of us gawked out for a couple minutes, commenting on the sunlight, then I did my business and went to sit down again.
Meals were eh. I don't think I'll be having the salmon again, though it's partly because of a bad cilantro experience. Dinner came with Milanos though, which I saved, as well as a salad topped with smoked salmon that tasted all right. Later there was a beef and swiss sandwich (more like an oblong sparse swiss burger or LaRosas style hoagie) and a little thing of vanilla haagen daaz. Not bad (kind of a weird combination and if you're lactose intolerant you're screwed), butI don't think I will be eating a whole little thing of ice cream in the future either, because I definitely got like heartburn or something from one or both of those things. Dairy? Lastly came breakfast, which was eggs or "dim sum" and caused a lot of confusion among a lot of passengers. Eventually the attendants started asking "eggs or noodles" by way of clarification. I didn't really know which way to go this time, but ended up going with the thing less likely to make me sick later, meaning not-eggs. The noodles did in fact come with some dim sum items: a pork bun that might have been a bbq pork bun though the filling was odd, a piece of shiu mai that had a large chunk of inedible animal part within, and a leaf of baby bok choi. The accompanying fruit tasted kinda like dish detergent. I haven't had sub-par airline melon in years though, so that was a surprise.
Anyways, that was the obligatory critique of the food, though I should probably follow it by stating that I still appreciate having had the opportunity to enjoy it or not during this flight. I love being served food on the airplane.
Landed in Beijing, just as I remembered it. Entry forms are currently the most straightforward and simple iteration that I've experienced and I wasn't made to fret over an irrelevant customs form this time either.
Got my things and came to the realization that not only could anyone there have just picked them up and walked off with them, but that there's even less safeguard against that in domestic baggage claims in the US. In fact, in Dayton or CVG, anyone could really wander in through the front doors, stand by baggage claim, take however much they wanted, and walk back out through the door. Awesome, right?
Found the driver no problem. Initially I thought I'd have the task of getting on a bus to get on another bus to get on a train to get to where I was going. But my host was really cool and sent a driver to collect me. He took my suitcase and my bag and we made our way into the garage, which is also how I remembered it. I got really nostalgic in there actually. Then we sped through a pedestrian walkway and then nearly ended the life of a sprinting child. He really wasn't paying any attention, though perhaps he wasn't planning on actually running into the path of oncoming traffic in the garage. Even though he stopped in time (he was trying to get some people's attention) he gave me, the driver, and probably his whole family a good pump of adrenaline.
We chatted for a bit and then I was told to get some rest. I tried to say something along the lines of how I'd been resting for the past 13 hours, and I think it worked, but lapsed into silence anyway. I watched traffic patterns and roadside foliage and read the street signs. But then I inevitably fell asleep. I woke up once I think while we were going through Tianjin (or did we go straight to TEDA?) and thought that I should remain conscious to see the city, but fell asleep again until right at the end. The area looks nothing like I expected it might, and the place I'm staying is way nicer than I expected it to be. Mrs. L came down to get me and the two of us moved my things into her apartment.
I got a tour of the rooms and then set up my computer to let my parents know that I'd made it. And there's wireless internet. I also took the opportunity to brush my teeth. My dad was really excited that I'd get to eat his friend's food, so obviously I was excited to. Mrs. L boiled up some squash and chicken dumplings for dinner and they were delicious. Doubly delicious because there was also vinegar involved. God I was so happy when I saw that.
Afterwards, Mrs. L insisted on taking me out to get my feet massaged so that I'd be able to sleep tonight. I'm pretty sure that sleep was always on the docket, but I'll admit that I was enticed by this prospect. Well, enticed and extremely wary because I have a very low tolerance for tickling and that's all I hear when someone says "foot massage."
We walked TEDA's long blocks and she pointed out the landmarks to me. I'd forgotten how positively terrifying it is to cross multi-lane roads here. Maybe I was still in a daze, but there were a couple times that I was confident that the way was clear to walk when a car would advance from the least obvious direction with no intention of sparing anyone in its path. Fortunately Mrs. L saw them all coming.
The massage parlor I guess is run by a friend of hers? We sat down in a room in two comfy chairs and took our shoes and socks off. Two girls came in with buckets of very very hot water that I splashed around in until it was cool enough to just submerge my feet. That felt pretty good. Then the girls came back in and gave us hand and arm massages. Not being a massage person really, I liked this part a lot. My arms have been all out of sorts for months and while this probably didn't do anything to help, it did feel good. Um, it was a bit awkward though because at this point I could look my masseuse in the face and just couldn't think of anything to say to her. So I looked at the ceiling or watched the floor and a little cockroach that was traversing it. At intervals, I'd look up and see it on the wall or on the flat screen TV and wasn't as repulsed as I could have been.
Next I was moved onto a stool so that she could do my back. Ah, ok, I did not like this part. Some of it was appealing, yes, but a lot of it was just pain and her beating the crap out of my lower back. I have no doubt that most of my other friends would have enjoyed this segment of the massage, but it wasn't really for me. At one point the other girl turned around and saw me making the gritted-teeth-wide-eyed cringe and I had to turn it into a smile real fast. She asked me if I was ticklish and so I said yes. I didn't want them to know that I'm a wimp.
Last up came the feet. At first I didn't know if I could make it through without an outburst, but it actually went pretty well. For the feet-- not too ticklish though she kept hitting like a pressure point or something on my instep that was uncomfortable. Also included was a leg massage up to the thigh. I'd closed my eyes at some point and it's possible that I dozed off for a while or something.
And then it was over and we caught a taxi back. I showered, checked the blogs, and then wrote this. Sure, not a masterpiece or anything (unfortunately it looks like it's not entertaining enough to double as an e-mail), but at least now I have all the details accrued thus far.
Monday, September 29, 2008
FAQ
I’m currently about an hour away from boarding my 6:30am flight out of Dayton airport… I’m feeling good. Also, did you know that if you carry several dollars worth of spare change in your purse, it will get searched by TSA? According to the nice man who had to hand-examine my book, notebook, camera, wallet, ipod, cell phones, and various other paraphernalia, a large cluster of coins creates a dark spot that the x-ray can’t read through. WOW.
Anyways, since I’ve got all this time, I think I shall use it to answer a few Frequently Asked Questions, or FAQs, about this trip.
Q: You’re going to China again?
A: Yes.
Q: How long will you be gone this time?
A: Starting with 3 months. I’m coming back on December 22 (missed too many family holidays the last couple years) and sticking around for the beginning of January. Unless something absolutely ridiculous happens to preclude my return, I’ll then be going back until next summer, June-ish.
Q: Where in China are you going?
A: Tianjin, specifically TEDA, the Tianjin Economic Development Area. Actually I’m only guessing on what that stands for, but if I’m wrong I’m at least very close. And no, I’ve never been there before, so this should be interesting.
Q: Ok, wait… where is that?
A: Haha good question! I thought I knew, but yesterday my parents told me I was wrong. It’s a port city southeast of Beijing, and there’s a high-speed train that connects the two cities with something like a 30 minute ride.
Q: Are you going to be teaching English again?
A: That is not my primary directive, no. Honestly I think I’m more or less past that now, although I do expect that at some point over the next few months I will be helping someone with their English in some capacity. Yeah, ok, now that I think of it, there’s a very good likelihood that they’ll make me teach at the local college.
Q: So what exactly are you going to be doing while you’re there?
A: Uh, as of right now, it’s not entirely… clear. The back-story is that there’s a friend of the family who works with the TEDA Community Service Volunteer Association (they have a website in English!) who thought that I might be able to help her out. So she’s willing to take me on and keep me busy and show me how the organization operates. I expect to be volunteering with some of their projects in the city, but also hopefully getting a little administrative experience too. Most importantly though, I’m going to have a chance to observe and learn and I also get to work my Chinese more than I have before, hopefully picking up a lot more technical vocab.
Q: Hold on, does this mean you STILL don’t have a paying job?
A: That is correct!
Q: You’re not going to get robbed again are you?
A: I’m not really sure why this is so frequently-asked. I’m certainly not planning on it.
Q: What are you taking with you?
A: One medium-large suitcase of random crap that evidently weighs 53 lbs., a frame backpack full of clothes, and old faithful, my trusty backpack.
Q: Can I come visit you?
A: Absolutely! I expect to get an apartment relatively soon, at which point anyone is welcome to crash with me for any period of time. I’m an enthusiastic hostess and will stuff you with delicious foods and take you wherever you want, um, within reason. I recommend coming anytime between March and June.
Q: Are you excited?
A: Yeah, sure. I’m definitely glad to be doing something again and I can’t wait to explore more of China.
I’m flying Continental for this trip and I’m actually looking forward to a nice series of flights. First of all, since I don’t have to switch airlines, my bags are checked all the way through to Beijing. After LAX last time, and DEFINITELY after friggin JFK, I’m glad not to have to drag everything between terminals and wait through check-in a second time. Second, I get to fly in an A seat on an Embraer between Dayton and Newark. This has to be the most comfortable small plane I’ve flown so far, and A is a single-seat row. Bwahahahaha. From Newark, it’s an 18 or so hour non-stop flight to Beijing, middle seat in the middle row on a 777. Oh well, at least I’ll have options?
Is this too much information yet? Well, you can look forward to more. I arrive in China right as they kick into their national holiday! So I guess I’ll just get to hang out for a couple days and get acquainted with the city since there will be absolutely nothing for me to do since everything official shuts down for the week.
Anyways, since I’ve got all this time, I think I shall use it to answer a few Frequently Asked Questions, or FAQs, about this trip.
Q: You’re going to China again?
A: Yes.
Q: How long will you be gone this time?
A: Starting with 3 months. I’m coming back on December 22 (missed too many family holidays the last couple years) and sticking around for the beginning of January. Unless something absolutely ridiculous happens to preclude my return, I’ll then be going back until next summer, June-ish.
Q: Where in China are you going?
A: Tianjin, specifically TEDA, the Tianjin Economic Development Area. Actually I’m only guessing on what that stands for, but if I’m wrong I’m at least very close. And no, I’ve never been there before, so this should be interesting.
Q: Ok, wait… where is that?
A: Haha good question! I thought I knew, but yesterday my parents told me I was wrong. It’s a port city southeast of Beijing, and there’s a high-speed train that connects the two cities with something like a 30 minute ride.
Q: Are you going to be teaching English again?
A: That is not my primary directive, no. Honestly I think I’m more or less past that now, although I do expect that at some point over the next few months I will be helping someone with their English in some capacity. Yeah, ok, now that I think of it, there’s a very good likelihood that they’ll make me teach at the local college.
Q: So what exactly are you going to be doing while you’re there?
A: Uh, as of right now, it’s not entirely… clear. The back-story is that there’s a friend of the family who works with the TEDA Community Service Volunteer Association (they have a website in English!) who thought that I might be able to help her out. So she’s willing to take me on and keep me busy and show me how the organization operates. I expect to be volunteering with some of their projects in the city, but also hopefully getting a little administrative experience too. Most importantly though, I’m going to have a chance to observe and learn and I also get to work my Chinese more than I have before, hopefully picking up a lot more technical vocab.
Q: Hold on, does this mean you STILL don’t have a paying job?
A: That is correct!
Q: You’re not going to get robbed again are you?
A: I’m not really sure why this is so frequently-asked. I’m certainly not planning on it.
Q: What are you taking with you?
A: One medium-large suitcase of random crap that evidently weighs 53 lbs., a frame backpack full of clothes, and old faithful, my trusty backpack.
Q: Can I come visit you?
A: Absolutely! I expect to get an apartment relatively soon, at which point anyone is welcome to crash with me for any period of time. I’m an enthusiastic hostess and will stuff you with delicious foods and take you wherever you want, um, within reason. I recommend coming anytime between March and June.
Q: Are you excited?
A: Yeah, sure. I’m definitely glad to be doing something again and I can’t wait to explore more of China.
I’m flying Continental for this trip and I’m actually looking forward to a nice series of flights. First of all, since I don’t have to switch airlines, my bags are checked all the way through to Beijing. After LAX last time, and DEFINITELY after friggin JFK, I’m glad not to have to drag everything between terminals and wait through check-in a second time. Second, I get to fly in an A seat on an Embraer between Dayton and Newark. This has to be the most comfortable small plane I’ve flown so far, and A is a single-seat row. Bwahahahaha. From Newark, it’s an 18 or so hour non-stop flight to Beijing, middle seat in the middle row on a 777. Oh well, at least I’ll have options?
Is this too much information yet? Well, you can look forward to more. I arrive in China right as they kick into their national holiday! So I guess I’ll just get to hang out for a couple days and get acquainted with the city since there will be absolutely nothing for me to do since everything official shuts down for the week.
I think I'm packed...
So... that was almost too easy. I know I'm forgetting something monstrously important. But honestly, as long as I have underwear and face wash I'm probably OK right? All of my clothes are piled on top of each other in my large backpack. I'm assuming that will be enough to get me through. The suitcase is honestly just full of random things like tampons and shoes, packed more or less inefficiently. A lot of it will be gone when I make the return trip. I did some quick searches and I think I might be able to climb a bit while I'm gone, so at the last minute I went ahead and stuffed my gear in on top of everything else. Worse comes to worse I can shop there (everyone know how much I LOVE shopping in China... PSYYYYCHE), and if it gets worse than that, I'm coming home in December.
Looking forward to that, by the way!
OK, I feel feverish... I think I should shower and have some frozen yogurt while watching one of the movies I rented when I thought I would have time to watch them. I don't think I shall be sleeping tonight, since I have to get up at 3 to leave for the airport anyway.
Looking forward to that, by the way!
OK, I feel feverish... I think I should shower and have some frozen yogurt while watching one of the movies I rented when I thought I would have time to watch them. I don't think I shall be sleeping tonight, since I have to get up at 3 to leave for the airport anyway.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, May 30, 2008
This time next year
Insane. So this thought has been slowly digging at me for the past few days, and every time I acknowledged it I'd sort of be in awe, and then get distracted by something else enough that the thought lost its relevance, only to stew around a little longer, getting more relevant as time wore on. Ok, I know I said just a "few" days, but it's been a weird week for time, what with the long weekend.
Anyways, one of the tasks I have set for myself at the library is to catalogue, label, and store a box-load of CDs that was left in my possession back at the beginning of my tenure here, as well as all the new ones that get recorded as we continue to have programs. At first it seemed like a pretty daunting order, because someone's really been neglecting these things for a while now, but with a trusty (or as trusty as it gets) mail merge set up in Word, it's going way faster than I'd ever anticipated. In fact, I have already completed pretty much every program that I have been present for, and am now moving on into the territory they usually call "before my time."
It's eerie, really, and I'm having trouble articulating why, to now be faced with all of these program names and speakers to which I have absolutely no emotional attachment. Trying to come up with a proper comparison has only led me to remember what I read about the Capgras delusion on wikipedia. Documenting these CDs hasn't exactly been a pleasant stroll down memory lane, or nostalgic at all for that matter, but I was getting used to expecting familiar titles and flier layouts, and such. First of all, to have rushed through that whole time span in a matter of hours was jarring, and I admit I'm a little confused when I look at some of these old program fliers, since information that I now expect to find in certain places is now hidden elsewhere.
It's been like going through a geological sample, watching the devolution of style (not to say that it gets worse, or to say that it doesn't) as the dates go farther back. It's just weird to suddenly be among such unfamiliar objects, and also a little weird to think that while these were being recorded by people I may or may not know, I was somewhere else entirely doing something else entirely.
Which actually leads to the thought I referenced at the start of this whole thing. I have been here almost a year. While it's unlikely that I'll continue loitering here until September (I'm not planning on it at least), that would mark a year of being *here* and that's hard for me to grasp. In less than three months I will have been back on home turf (as it were) for a full year.
A year ago today, this whole situation was as distant from me as the moon. Actually, no... more distant, because I can see the moon pretty clearly. What was I doing? May 29, 2007 (ok, technically May 30). I guess I would still have been teaching as if it weren't no thang. Riding the bus to China Care a few days a week. Breaking out the tank tops for summer. Buying those shorts and capris probably happened at some point around here. Stopping by the fruit stand, drinking lots of water, getting tofu after classes with Russ & Dave, perhaps watching YooHee with Alice and Tara, interviewing teachers, stopping by the French restaurant, reading Lolita, listening to the Stars, shopping at the new grocery store, eating modified ma la chuan and squid and diao zha bing and popsicles, sitting by my window, dreaming about coming home. The entire month of June is missing from my blog, so I have no record of it except for the dates embedded in my digital photos, but I'm assuming that I was busy enough that I didn't waste much time reflecting on it. I wonder if I knew already at the end of May that I'd be spending the rest of my summer in Beijing? I mean, a quick gmail search could answer that question for me, but I'd rather just pose it. I'm wondering if I ever mentioned the frisbee game that we struck up one afternoon, or our various attempts at badminton, or that one housewarming party I went to with Alice.
So it's weird, to be removed from all that by the length of a year. And a strange year. I've been in San Francisco for about 9 months, and I'm still of the mindset that it's temporary. The result is, of course, that I'm even more disconnected from the people around me than even new transplants. It's awkward, but I get the feeling that I don't want to invest myself too much in my surroundings because I *should* pick up and go.
Ok, that was personal. But anyways, should I pick up and go? I'm committed until the end of July, at which point, I ought to have a next step. I don't really remember how to set that up, nor do I really know what I would count as a valid "next step" anyways. What am I going to do in August that will eventually lead me through the course of another year, back to yet another today? That is a very good question.
Part of me says very much that I should just go back to China, no matter what it takes, because something interesting is just bound to happen there. What a bizarre rationale. But...
Anyways, one of the tasks I have set for myself at the library is to catalogue, label, and store a box-load of CDs that was left in my possession back at the beginning of my tenure here, as well as all the new ones that get recorded as we continue to have programs. At first it seemed like a pretty daunting order, because someone's really been neglecting these things for a while now, but with a trusty (or as trusty as it gets) mail merge set up in Word, it's going way faster than I'd ever anticipated. In fact, I have already completed pretty much every program that I have been present for, and am now moving on into the territory they usually call "before my time."
It's eerie, really, and I'm having trouble articulating why, to now be faced with all of these program names and speakers to which I have absolutely no emotional attachment. Trying to come up with a proper comparison has only led me to remember what I read about the Capgras delusion on wikipedia. Documenting these CDs hasn't exactly been a pleasant stroll down memory lane, or nostalgic at all for that matter, but I was getting used to expecting familiar titles and flier layouts, and such. First of all, to have rushed through that whole time span in a matter of hours was jarring, and I admit I'm a little confused when I look at some of these old program fliers, since information that I now expect to find in certain places is now hidden elsewhere.
It's been like going through a geological sample, watching the devolution of style (not to say that it gets worse, or to say that it doesn't) as the dates go farther back. It's just weird to suddenly be among such unfamiliar objects, and also a little weird to think that while these were being recorded by people I may or may not know, I was somewhere else entirely doing something else entirely.
Which actually leads to the thought I referenced at the start of this whole thing. I have been here almost a year. While it's unlikely that I'll continue loitering here until September (I'm not planning on it at least), that would mark a year of being *here* and that's hard for me to grasp. In less than three months I will have been back on home turf (as it were) for a full year.
A year ago today, this whole situation was as distant from me as the moon. Actually, no... more distant, because I can see the moon pretty clearly. What was I doing? May 29, 2007 (ok, technically May 30). I guess I would still have been teaching as if it weren't no thang. Riding the bus to China Care a few days a week. Breaking out the tank tops for summer. Buying those shorts and capris probably happened at some point around here. Stopping by the fruit stand, drinking lots of water, getting tofu after classes with Russ & Dave, perhaps watching YooHee with Alice and Tara, interviewing teachers, stopping by the French restaurant, reading Lolita, listening to the Stars, shopping at the new grocery store, eating modified ma la chuan and squid and diao zha bing and popsicles, sitting by my window, dreaming about coming home. The entire month of June is missing from my blog, so I have no record of it except for the dates embedded in my digital photos, but I'm assuming that I was busy enough that I didn't waste much time reflecting on it. I wonder if I knew already at the end of May that I'd be spending the rest of my summer in Beijing? I mean, a quick gmail search could answer that question for me, but I'd rather just pose it. I'm wondering if I ever mentioned the frisbee game that we struck up one afternoon, or our various attempts at badminton, or that one housewarming party I went to with Alice.
So it's weird, to be removed from all that by the length of a year. And a strange year. I've been in San Francisco for about 9 months, and I'm still of the mindset that it's temporary. The result is, of course, that I'm even more disconnected from the people around me than even new transplants. It's awkward, but I get the feeling that I don't want to invest myself too much in my surroundings because I *should* pick up and go.
Ok, that was personal. But anyways, should I pick up and go? I'm committed until the end of July, at which point, I ought to have a next step. I don't really remember how to set that up, nor do I really know what I would count as a valid "next step" anyways. What am I going to do in August that will eventually lead me through the course of another year, back to yet another today? That is a very good question.
Part of me says very much that I should just go back to China, no matter what it takes, because something interesting is just bound to happen there. What a bizarre rationale. But...
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