Word of the Day. Define 忧虑: [ yōu lǜ ] |
1. fret one's gizzard Try not to fret your gizzard today. |
Feeling Restless.
I have like a million things on my mind and yes I'm exaggerating, but this is the closest I get to griping. Between closing out life here and preparing to be back home, I can't sit still without my mind racing to the next thing that I need to do. Write summer camp curriculum, check. Give away that plastic Christmas tree, check. Find a bride a qi pao, check. Still study Chinese, check. Close out the school year, (next week) check. Find a therapist to talk to when I go back, almost check. Make preparations to move to Dallas, well, close enough for now, check (!).
(Writing a xanga entry isn't on my to do list, so this counts as procrastinating).
In second language acquisition theory there's this i +1 theory which upholds that when a language learner is exposed to input (i) just one step above his or her level (+1), the optimal language learning environment is achieved. Change the i into an s to stand for 'stuff,' and I'm at about an s + 5 right now. I think I'm above my optimum. (I'm a nerd for thinking like this, yes.)
I'm restless at night and by morning keenly aware of my frailty. One can only feign to be 能干before realizing it's not the point. So not the Point.
Anonymous.
I like walking through crowds being anonymous. Unfortunately, given the community I live in, it's hard to do so. Even if I don't know Mr. Corner-Squatting-Guy he might know me somehow, as he could be the cousin of Mr. First-Floor-Neighbor. You just never know in a community where everyone is like second cousins or something.
I'm an introvert, though I hate the connotations of the word, as most people think that means you're some sort of recluse or loner. I'll admit to inconveniencing myself to avoid seeing people I know sometimes, like turning and going the other way to avoid striking a conversation with someone. I used to get huge headaches after large group meetings in college from having to be 'social' for a period. It tires me out.
Part of me fears going back to the States because I'm sure I can't maintain too much anonymity knowing that people are waiting for me to be back. Part of me selfishly wants the fanfare--the other part just wants to quietly slip back into life in the States.
I'll settle for a compromise.
So, What's Like Hip.
About a year and a half ago an expat friend asked me what was hip in the States seeing as I was only six months removed from life there (at the time she had been gone three years and was getting ready for a trip back). I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't that hip back in the States but instead assured her that she wasn't going to make any gross faux pas with her current wadrobe.
So now it's my turn to ask what's hip. Advice...? Though, I'm not sure that it really even matters. The one habit I know that I'll rid myself of as I reassume my former vanity is not wearing my clothes three days in a row anymore. I for one will be glad to be wearing any clothes that has been through the dryer, as all we do here is line dry. I'll also be happy to reunite with the rest of my wadrobe again, at least the part that my mother and sister haven't purged through.
An Act of Impulse.
I'm not one to act on impulse, though living here has surely tempered the planner in me. To support this assertion, I give you my experience last week. I was in the capital and after wandering a bit on my own happened upon an ice skating rink. I saw the rink and knew I had to skate. Skating is one of those activities that I imagine doing when I'm free and uninhibited. Sometimes I get an image of Julie Andrews singing 'the hills are alive' with outstretched arms twirling around in circles. And other times it's me skating.
So skate I did, despite the fact that I had to scrounge up a pair of socks by paying more than I would in the mall the rink was housed in. I excitedly laced up the dingy white skates that were given me and gingerly stepped onto the ice. It usually takes me a few seconds to orient myself, but after doing so, I was off and zipping by the prima donna girls who occupy the rink as if its theirs and the other more wobbly, inexperienced skaters. It was one of the rare moments of freedom for me here--as I took a few more laps around the rink, my confidence grew and soon was practicing my forward and backward crossovers.
After an hour, my shins were sore and I reluctantly left the ice. I wanted to skate longer, but knew that I had had my fill. I'll have to think about when my next act of impulse will be--but oh wait, I think that just negates the point :)
Big Bird and I.
It was Big Bird who first made coming here cool. I still remember sitting in Empire Cinema on West Portal Ave. and watching him traverse the country, Snuffleupagus in tow, on a sort of hunt for something or another (it was my first ever movie that I saw on the big screen). The movie left an indelible impression on me. So much so that when I went traveling this spring I suddenly remembered, 'Big Bird was here!' It was a treasured thought, recollected only by the landmark that was now before me, the one that I had seen in the movie. Back then the land seemed mysterious, romantic even. These impressions lingered until middle school.
By middle school my ideas had changed. My perception of the modern mainland was now clouded by readings such as 'Life and Death in Shanghai' by Nien Cheng. I recently reread her book and tried to imagine myself as a 12-year old reading her stories. Heavy stuff. There was also the incident that happened here in the square when I was in middle school that really didn't seem to jive with what I remember Big Bird seeing.
All this to say...I've traced my being here to Big Bird. Pretty good for a girl who didn't have a TV until 6th grade.
By the Numbers.
Days away from home: 638
Number of days until I'm home: 72
Flights of stairs climbed: 1,113
Jiaozi 饺子eaten: 537
Students taught: 150-ish
Weddings since I've been away: 11 (I've lost track)
Ways to pronounce my English name: 7
Haircuts: 2
Cavities: *
Bikes stolen: 1
Miles ran: 0 (!)
*unknown, figure pending dental appt. upon return
Planning for Retirement.
I thought I was done with my triple step rock steps whatever when alas I was called out of my semi-retirement. This is it, though...after this I'm calling it quits again...I think?
Do they do much of that stuff in the Lone Star state? That seems to be where my tour is headed next 
.
Why Anne is a Kindred Spirit.
This is for those of the opposite gender who just don't get the Anne of Green Gables thing. (Inspired by a recent spirited debate, which prompted me to write this).
Anne is an orphan. Neglected and mistreated, Anne enters an imaginary world to escape. Matthew and Murilla, the brother-sister pair to eventually adopt Anne, are surprised to discover Anne to be a girl (they had expected a boy). Matthew, however, becomes smitten by Anne. Anne bemoans her too red hair, gangly frame, and uncontrollable mouth; Matthew seems to overlook all this. His soft-spokenness is overshadowed by the determined Murilla, but in the end she consents to having Anne stay and is herself won over. Anne's countenance improves with Matthew and Murilla, as Anne experiences for the first time what it means to belong.
The human experience is itself a search for Significance. This is particular for a girl. Anne's desire to be loved is obvious as an orphan, and even after arriving in Avonlea she sets out to prove herself, excelling in her studies and winning over the community's heart with her unconventional ways. Anne's initial rejection of Gil in part stems from her disbelief that someone could love her when still she finds herself with too much fault. Anne eventually goes off to college, where obsessing over her studies, she meets continued success. Anne continues to dream, though she gives up a chance to redeem her scholarship to go home to Murilla after Matthew dies. A year later she accepts a teaching position outside of Avonlea where Anne is once again called upon to prove herself. Anne eventually returns to Avonlea, not because she has failed but because she realizes she has looked outside of herself for her happiness when all this time, her happiness has always been in Avonlea with the people nearest to her heart.
Anne recalls my own search for belonging. I'm sure for most girls it's the same. Despite assurance that secures my worth, I'm often mistakingly unsatisfied. I root for Anne, though I know she's flawed and her persuits too lofty. (Indeed, a low image of self lurks under her outward stubbornness). Anne is also overly ideal; reality is often too plain for her. I've been known to wish away Providence.
Though I haven't the eloquence or audacity of Anne, she is to me a kindred spirit. By definition, a kindred spirit is someone who feels and thinks the same way you do. Anne is one such person.
We All Scream for Ice Cream.
Ice cream is a sure pick your mood upper. I was with one of my WFF's (white-faced-friends) the other day, introducing her to my favorite local ice cream when we looked up and to our surprise discovered two other WFF's standing next to us. 'Whoa, another WFF,' said the one whom we agreed later was a Surfer Dude. Old Navy, his friend, remarked in awe, 'She speaks English' (referring to me). I smiled politely. They were admiring the ice cream, too. And who wouldn't? It's good stuff. It's the closest thing to gelato that I've found here. I'm having trouble posting pics right now so you'll just have to believe me :)