Part of me feels right at home here in HK. On the plane ride over I got teary eyed watching a documentary on I.M. Pei (of all people). The part that got me was one of his associates who commented that seeing Pei in China gave him a glimpee of the very "Chinese side" of his boss (Pei immigrated to the U.S in 1930). I think part of that Chineseness for me lies dormant in the States only to emerge in curious ways overseas. The smells here bring a certain nostalgia, particularly of my first trip here when I was in college. It's comforting when I can turn street corners and still remember where to go. Certainly this is significant in a place like HK that is always in constant flux. Of course, being here on vacation only allows for the warm and fuzzy type of memories to surface, but for me being back also serves as a sort of marker for where I've been. For most, the new year signals new beginnings, but for me this year it also means giving thanks for what has already come to pass.

This past week I was transported into the magical world of Narnia during my morning and afternoon commutes. I found it to be much better than listening to two drunks on the train arguing about roast beef and chicken. Sometimes it helps to be taken far, far away from your present world. A good novel does that.

As a child I was good at the world of make-believe. Probably because I was an avid reader (that's what happens when you don't own a television until middle school). I kind of miss the creativity that comes from constructing your own world, the kind where everything goes precisely the way you want it to. I find this nearly impossible to be had in real life. This would explain my persistent longing for a world that is better - one in which I'm assured is far greater than even what I, in my wildest imagination, could ever conceive.

Today I helped a couple of friends move out of their townhouse. I've learned, after several moves of my own, that moving is an exhausting process. Not only is it physically exhausting, it's also quite emotional seeing your life packed up into boxes and hauled away.

I wasn't sure what I would be helping with today, and it ended up that I spent most of my time packing things in the kitchen. The sheer enormity of the task almost made me turn back around and go home, but we took it drawer by drawer and cabinet by cabinet and got it done.

After helping with the move, I was inspired to go home and tidy up some of my own things. I can always tell when my life is in disarray by the amount of things that start accumulating in piles around my room. Though I'm not sure that cleanliness is next to godliness, it sure makes for greater sanity (that is, until things start unraveling again).

I'm not sure where the phrase "beating a dead horse" came from. Who would beat a dead horse, really? Apparently it's done because we tell people they're doing it, and they should just stop. I think people beat dead horses because they can't move past something. It's been done, discussed, attempted - and now, you're just beating a dead horse. Give up.

You can probably tell that I speak from some experience here. Who hasn't beaten a dead horse and realized how futile it was in retrospect? There is wisdom in determining what's dead, and even greater wisdom in seeing things are sometimes DOA.

I had my annual eye exam this week. For the second year in a row, my vision has improved! While I like my lower prescription, there was some bad news. After years of contact lens wearing, my eyes are starting to dry out more. In fact, for the second time in a month my eye has dried out to the point of becoming red, which my doctor says is inflammation of the eye. So I was instructed to wear my glasses and put in some eye drops.

I learned there are a couple of things that haven't helped my eyes in the past month. First, running 13.1 miles in pouring rain. Water actually dries out the eye, so after the race not only was I wet, but my eye was really red. Second, tears are no good. So between running in the rain and crying, I would say the former is easier to avoid :)

The Monday after Thanksgiving is a harsh reality after a long weekend that featured plenty of good eats, and added sleep. I managed to get myself into work early, and was relieved to find the office mostly empty to start my day. This and a couple of canceled meetings allowed me to get mostly caught up after the break.

Returning to something after being away isn't easy. I haven't blogged in forever and somehow feel out of practice. I can say that I've missed it, but all the meanwhile I am searching for the right words to articulate it. Polished or not, I think the lesson here is that to get back into habit, you just have to do it. Check.

I've been walking around this week with a limp and a couple of nasty bruises (see below entry for why). I try not to wince each time I go up and down the stairs, and it's made me extra conscious of each step I take. I recently heard that sheep who repeatedly wander from the fold have one of their legs broken by the shepherd so that they don't get themselves lost again. Me and my hobbling resemble this somewhat, as desperately as I want to return to my brisk pace of life again. I've been slowed down, and in being slowed down, realize that it's much better to stick closer to the fold.

This entry is a cautionary tale (directed towards myself rather than anyone else). Yesterday I proceeded with my routine of walking up the stairs out of the MUNI underground. I could take the escalator, but I don't. I'm pretty good at marching myself up the stairs to the tune of my iPod. By the time I get to the street level I feel accomplished, though slightly out of breath. Yesterday started like any ordinary morning, though I was slightly thrown off for it being Saturday. I won't blame that on what happened next. Hands in pocket, iPod blasting, I started up the stairs, but instead of the predictable clip-clop, clip-clop up the stairs, there suddenly came a ker-splat! It took a split second to assess that I had not broken or sprained anything. I managed to finally pull my hands out of my pocket and pick myself up. Instinctively I turned around (to see if there were any witnesses) and was met with an incredulous "Are you okay?" To which I managed a feeble, "yes."

I'm a klutz. If you didn't know that, ask me about my long list of injuries (none of which can be blamed on anyone else). Because I pride myself on a very put together self, each "accident" is a way of reminding me that hey, I don't have it all together. Yesterday was no different. I was later consoled by 3-year old Hannah who asked, "Is your leg okay?" (this after I explained Auntie Sherise's accident). She got out her toy medical kit and gave me a shot. I still have my bruises today, but manage to still be smiling about the whole thing.

I feel a sense of vindication today. I'm not sure if it's right to feel this way, but I have this huge sense of relief. I wanted to be proven wrong, I really did.

It reminds me that one day I will finally experience an even greater sense of vindication. When faith becomes sight, and trust no longer is in vain. Someone please remind me of this on one of my bad days.

I find that I have a higher tolerance for someone who is crazy over someone who is lazy. Somehow I can sort of forgive any behavior due to craziness, but laziness? I put more responsibility on the lazy one. Add that to my list of pet peeves. There is flip side - and that is, the most efficient people have their own form of lazy. I think sometimes being busy can mask an apathy towards other things. This is me. Sometimes I get so busy that I let activities or responsibilities dictate my life. The laziness comes in not doing anything about it because despite my best wishes, life never really slows down.