Tough Guys Wear Pink.

Okay, so I take back the comment I made previously that I don't wear a lot of pink (because I don't want the girly label).  Pink is in...even for guys, which I find mildly amusing.  My cousin who's visiting from LA wore this t-shirt out the other day:

Okay, if tough guys can wear pink, Sherise can be okay to admit things like she's scared, and at times panicked about her coming time overseas.  My other cousin, who's 10-years old, learned what a tangent is.  A tangent is when you digress.  I like doing that.  So allow me to digress here...

I ran into a former student today while out for lunch with my relatives.  I always find it funny that when people ask what I do, I reply without hesitation, "I teach."  Oh, what grade?  College.  College?  Yes, college. 

Anyhow, after running into her, I realized that over the course of these last two years, I've probably had close to a hundred students. I'm reminded of the grace that has been supplied in the past, and the grace available to me as I assume my next teaching position.

In case you were wondering about the tangent, it's because one of my latest "freaking out episodes" is over being a competent teacher.

The Indignity.

I've already been poked 4 times for immunizations related to my coming time in the motherland (still one more to go).  I'm a big girl--shots don't bug me much, but they are somewhat of a nuisance.  Even worse of a nuisance is this chest x-ray that I need to get in order to secure my working visa.  I tried to worm my way out of it, figuring that the chest x-ray is to test for TB, and I'd much rather get a TB shot.  Didn't fly.  I needed a chest x-ray, and that was that.

Now, a bigger reason for me trying to wiggle my way out of getting the x-ray was because I clearly recalled my last such x-ray (for my back).  Getting an x-ray means donning the awful hospital gown, with its misfortunate design of opening in the back (with well intended, but misplaced strings meant to hide the exposure, but still allows for a nice draft).

I fumbled my way into the gown today, grumbling over the backwardness of my future host country to force me to endure such indignity.  The worst is that upon changing into the gown, you need to walk down the hallway to the x-ray room, and who knows who may walk down and see you sans coverage. 

I peered down the hallway, and thankfully, no one was there.  I held the gown in the back (modesty is always a virtue) and tried as slickly as I could to follow the technician down the hallway without looking like a dork.  *Sigh* I don't think that was avoided.

Anyhow, I got into the x-ray room, and the first question the technician asked was, "Any chance you could be pregnant?"  That would be a NO.  So onward we proceeded.  Put your shoulders against here.  Hands behind your back. Don't move. Wait a minute, isn't this akin to how they arrest felons?  *Sigh again*

The next maneuver involved me raising my hands in the air and grabbing an overhead bar.  Now I'm a monkey.

Thank God that was the end of it!  Check that off my list :)

Ling Er San Ba.

Today was my self-selected day to go to the embassy and apply for my visa.  Believe it or not, it was my first such visit to the embassy...I've always been spoiled by someone else taking care of this end of things during my previous travels.  Before going I meticulously read through the directions on the embassy website, ensuring that I knew how to fill out the form and not look like a completely novice (even though I am).

Upon my arrival I skirted my way past the Falun Gong protesters, who have staked a steady presence outside the embassy doors. I walked inside only to immediately panic.  It was as if I had step foot right in the motherland, and the reality of this made me freak out.  I stared blankly for a moment at the white security guard (as if confused that a white guy should be manning the place) and then averted my eyes downward to find a machine with two buttons:

* Application
* Pick-Up

Easy enough.  I pushed the "Application" button and sat down in a waiting room that resembled the DMV.  How long is this going to take?  Long enough so that my panicked thoughts continued to surmount.  What the heck am I getting in to?  I can't do this!  I literally almost broke down in tears as I slunk in the plastic waiting room chair, facing a board that flashed strings of numbers to indicate the next in line. 

I decided that I was going to pull myself together and not completely lose it.  I prayed hard, asking that God would reassure me with his presence. 

But yet I felt alone, and there was a terrible knot in my stomach.  On the overhead PA was a computerized voice, dictating the next in line both in the mother tongue and then in English. When it came my turn (#0238), I got up rather numb and headed to Window 5.  I managed a cheery hello and handed over my documents.  The woman scribbled something on a pad, handed it back to me and said, "Pick-up on Friday."  I thanked her, and headed out the door, surprised by how fast it took.

Deep breath, Sherise.  It's getting closer...

On Being a Girl.

There are moments when I hate giving in to the notion that I'm a girl, and thus thrust with certain stereotypes.  I'll fiercely deny any girly-girlness, but for the sake of this entry, I'll fess up to being at minimum a girl, and with this gender comes a certain weakness (Ugh. I'd rather be known as tough, strong, grrr...).

I got to break into a couple of traditionally "male" activities today, courtesy of Mel, who is leaving for the East Coast and so was having a BBQ send-off at Chrissy Field (yay for the soon to be Dr. Mel!).  Now, I don't know what it is with guys and BBQ, but traditionally, all of us females know--BBQ is a guy's territory.  Sure, you can marinate the meat, but leave the bbq-ing to the "men."

With all such territorial men absent (thanks Dan for gladly handing over the reigns), the women take over!  And I think Luce and I did just fine on the barbee.  We had some nice caramel color action going on with them chicken wings.  And I got the whole thing down with the hamburger patties...push them closer together, yes, yes.  Wait until the edges brown up.  Flip with confidence, sizzle and ahh...a nice lookin' patty.

Now I confess that I kinda wandered back and forth from the barbee, so I won't take credit for the majority of the bbq-ing--but at least I got to do SOME.  You can fault the girl in me who got carried away socializing :)

Breaking male territory #2:  I GOT TACKLED BY MEL AND KALAM.  Here I was explaining to Hoang and Terrence about Mel not being so aggressive on the bball court when, *WHUMP* I suddenly have a nice view of the sky!  Apparently they were plotting for quite a while, but I held them off since I was holding an intimidating BBQ fork.  I don't think I've been attacked like that since my dear friend Helen got the best of me that summer of '00.  Helen, you would approve :)

Oh how I love being a girl, but sometimes, it's cool to do guy things, too .

Oh For the Love of Grandma.

Excuse the doubling up of matriarchal entries.  Call it a belated Mother's Day tribute if you'd like :)

I've always wished for the baking-cookies-type of grandma...the one who would emerge from the kitchen with all sorts of good scents, with always a kind word and gentle laugh.  My paternal grandma passed away when I was two, leaving me with just one grandma, who lived an ocean away.

My grandma has since come to the States, and in recent years, we've developed a bond over what I call the 'ol lunch and mai choi (Cantonese for buying groceries).  This now being my third taste of 'unemployment,' I've had an opportunity to rekindle these weekly trips.  It's a symbiotic relationship--she needs me to drive her around--I, in turn, get a free lunch and also free groceries.

I love scooting my grandma around.  I turn into somewhat of a nag, hearkening thoughts of what I'll be like when I'm a mother.  Be careful crossing the street.  Let me carry that for you.  You don't need that.  Wait here and I'll get the car. 

I suppose we make for quite a sight.  The butcher at Ranch 99 always recognizes us, and I'm always happy to greet him with a hello (in Chinese, of course).  I never like it when people presume that I don't speak the language--someone once even thought I was white.  Dude.  My grandma always tends to be a bit naive, so I seemingly am always trying to make sure she doesn't get taken advantage of.  To her credit, she can just about kiss up to anyone and manage to charm the heck out of them.  Having such a lovely granddaughter at her side doesn't hurt either (Ha. JUST KIDDING).

Anyhow, my long preamble is to say this--I'd go out lengths for my grandma, including going back to the dreaded Dentist Dude's office.  My grandma goes to the same dental office as I do, but sees another dentist.  I thought about staying in the car, but realized that wasn't an option.  So I instead decided to cower in the waiting room, praying that the Dentist Dude was either A) Not there or B) Wouldn't notice.

No such luck.  There I was buried in Jesus in Beijing (thanks for the borrow, Mel!) when Dentist Dude emerged at the doorway and asked what I was doing there.  That's your grandma?? Yes, that's my grandma.  So this is all for the love of grandma, and yes, I leave for the motherland next month, thank you.

No more trips back to the dentist, please!

Everything in Life I've Learned from...My Mom.

Ask a first born daughter what her relationship with her mother is like, and if honest with you, she'll reply with a bit of a harumph.  We're notoriously stubborn, and if you've been following my xanga these past months you know that I don't take too kindly to being told what to do.

That said, today's outing with my mom should have been rather predictable.  She was at some point going to annoy me, and I inevitably would overreact.  It didn't take too long for me to get annoyed.  After a stroll through Nordstrom's and Crate and Barrel, I decided I wanted to get some coffee.  My mother, being the Chinese mom that she is, right away spotted the $.25 for drip coffee and announced she would get a cup (she's not much of a coffee drinker).  I went for my trusty Almond Mocha.  When we got our drinks, I poured some half and half in her cup and she proceeded to add sugar.  I informed her that it would take a number of sugars to get it just right, but she insisted that she'd be okay with just two.  She clumsily inserted the sugar packs, and I let out a sigh.  After sipping a few sips she declared that her drink was too bitter.  She proceeded to return her cup to the people at the counter.  That got me annoyed.

Now you may think, how minor...why would Sherise get annoyed?  Don't ask, I just do when it comes to my mom.  Sometimes I unearth past bitterness which adds to my fury.  I always manage to hurt my mom somehow when I'm mad, too.  Today was no exception.  It was not until our stop in Ann Taylor that we seemed to forget the previous incident and went on to complimenting each other as we modeled open-toed shoes and fashionable skirts of the season.  Healing comes from shopping.

Shopping can do wonders, but it takes grace to really heal.  Afterwards we had dinner at Max's Opera Cafe and not long after we had been there, my mom announced that she was going to cry.  Oh no, then my tear ducts are going to go, too!  She's a bit emotional about me leaving, and she informed that she would always remember this special "outing" that we had embarked on (it was only to Stanford Shopping Mall--not too far away, but still, we don't do this often and she took time off to specifically spend with me).  Even though we fought I asked?  Even though we fought. 

I do love my mom, even though she manages to unearth the ugliest sides out of me.  She's taught me some pretty solid things, a lot of which verge on the humorous, but that's more reason for which I love her.  Here are some lessons learned:

* Always use two toilet seat covers for extra insurance.
* Cover your nose and mouth when walking by a smoker.  It's not rude.
* Carry alcohol pads with you.  Handy for disinfecting everything.  Most useful in restaurants.
* Don't yawn without covering your mouth.
* Don't burp so loud.  No one will ask you out on dates.
* Pace around the train platform like a bobcat stalking its prey.  This insures your readiness when the train doors open.
* Don't eat hot and cold items together (i.e, hot soup and an ice cold soda). Bad for the teeth.
* Don't put your laptop on your lap.  Radiation.
* Don't smile too big.  It's not very graceful.
* Let the guys carry stuff for you. Don't be so stubborn.

Did I mention I love my mom?

Wedding Crashers.

I pulled a J. Lo yesterday and coordinated my first ever wedding.  Perfect job for a control freak such as myself.  My good friends Mat and Janet must have known this too because not only was I wedding coordinator, but emcee of their evening festivities to boot!

Part of me really likes being in charge and calling the shots.  Perhaps it comes from being first born, but moreso, it feeds my penchant for power.  But with power comes much responsibility, and as I was prepping for the rehearsal I realized I didn't know what the heck I was doing.  Orchestrate an entire wedding ceremony?  What was I thinking?

Anyhow, I have this way of faking like I know what I'm doing. Clipboard in hand, along with detailed Excel spreadsheet of the events, plus a walkie talkie--I totally looked the part.

You should never have me in charge for too long.  Being in charge uncovers a hidden vanity that wants for everything I'm in charge of be done well.  As I saw Janet approach the doorway with her father before walking down the aisle, there was this sense of oh my goodness, this is so not about me but what God has put together in Mat and Janet.  It was a beautiful, humbling moment.

So later on at the banquet when the manager at the Chinese restaurant unexpectedly decided to "bless" the couple with an operatic Chinese song karoke style, I could only laugh.  Go ahead and crash...was this ever my parade to begin with?   

God forbid that I rain on the parade that He orchestrates. 

Congratulations to my dear friends Mat and Janet!

Life After Work.

Such a blissful life not to be employed in the 8-5.  I don't think I could stand it for long, but I find it interesting that I can go almost seemlessly from the 8-5 to the domestic life of the unemployed. 

In the midst of this transition, my life has been through a lot of loopity-loops.  I've somehow managed to strong-arm God away from my heart--this after a period where I was feeling quite broken, and tears were the order of the day.

I've been searching my heart as to why this is so (that is, this feeling of 'nothingness' towards my relationship with God).  It's kind of scary in a way, just thinking that I'm supposed to amount to this spiritual giant if I am to go overseas (see entry below).

I said goodbye to my sister this morning as she left for a short stint in the motherland.  A part of my heart left with her and the team.  I hate going to the airport when I'm not leaving.  I'm kind of selfish like that :)  And I've been to the airport 4 times in the past week! 

I guess I don't have too much to complain about.  I'll be going away for the next few days...Sherise is taking a road trip!  I pray that I'll have some time to do some real soul searching as I go.  I leave tomorrow.  I'll have plenty of time to myself--6 hours down and 6 hours back.

Back with more thoughts soon.

Goody-Two-Shoes.

Somehow over the years I've amassed this reputation as a goody-two-shoes.  It's a double-edged sword, really.  On the one hand, I earn favor pretty easily, but on the other hand, I'm boxed into a label of perfection.

I honestly just want to rebel sometimes.  It's hard being perfect...because I'M NOT.  Let me say that again just for good measure: I'M NOT PERFECT. Now that that's off my chest, *whew*  I'm ready now for some grace.

God repeatedly allows for my retardedness (because I do have lots). 

I'm gonna stop here lest I be put on a pedastal for being too humble...

So long status quo 
I think I just let go 
You make me want to be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave