Life on Earth

2009-06-26T22:09:00.005+08:00

Taiwan - Best Trip in the World Contest

In an effort to let more people around the world know that Taiwan is a terrific place to travel, the Taiwan Tourism Bureau has decided to launch a "Best Trip in the World" contest. The Tourism Bureau is inviting people from around the world to form their own teams of at least 2 people to put together and submit a money-saving, yet fun and creative way to spend 4 days in Taiwan. Of the entrants, 50 teams with the best itineraries will be selected to actually come to Taiwan and complete their proposed 4 day itinerary (while blogging and video-logging daily) for the chance to ultimately win $1,000,000 NT (about $30,000 US) and a month of travel in Taiwan. The 50 teams will be announced on July 10, and the teams have until August 31 to complete their 4-day trip. The winner of the Best Trip contest will be announced on November 15.

So, why am I telling you this? Well, despite the fact that over 700 teams have already signed up (the deadline is June 30), I'm just crazy enough to throw my hat into the ring as well! That's right, I've decided to put together a team, called the Southern Belles, consisting of my mom and myself. Since her visit to Taiwan a few years ago, I've been hoping she'd have the chance to come again. We had been talking about her possibly visiting this summer, so when I saw the listing for the contest, I decided to seize the opportunity in hopes that we'd be selected and she'd have an even better excuse to join me here this summer! While selection to participate does depend largely on the creativity and feasibility of the itinerary we submit, part of the contest does consist of online voting, as the main goal of the competition is to spread the word and generate interest in Taiwan as a tourist destination. And so, I'm asking that you check out our contest page and vote for us!

We're thrilled about the possibility to compete and excitedly awaiting the July 10th announcement! We appreciate your support and votes and will keep you updated as things progress.

Taiwan Best Trip - Southern Belles team video!

2009-06-23T20:43:00.002+08:00

Check out the video, and don't forget to VOTE FOR US! Thanks!!!

Something While You Wait

2008-12-18T00:35:00.004+08:00

Oh wow, has it really been nearly a year since my last post! Where has the time gone?!?
Sadly, now is not the best time to play catch-up as a busy schedule has a way of getting even busier during the holiday season. However, in order to keep myself going, I do find it necessary to occasionally pause and enjoy a seasonal favorite. And so, in the spirit of the season of giving and sharing, I wish to share with you a few December delights from my childhood. Okay, granted they weren't created during my childhood, however, they were nonetheless a part of what made Christmastime special in our house.

Three Cheers for the Band

2008-01-30T00:06:00.000+08:00

What better way to initiate my comeback than by making a band. Thanks for the idea knomat!

Here's how it works:

Band name: Use the name of the article from the first random wikipedia page you load when clicking here.
Album name: Use the last four words of the last quote on this random quote page.
Album cover: Search using the last word from your album name on this page. When the results appear, use the third image from the top of the list as your album cover. Don't forget to give attribution.
Assemble the cover in Photoshop (or whatever) as you wish and post it on your blog. Please track back to this post or knomat's post.

So, here are my results:

Band Name: Aethelswih
Album Name: “All of the Answers“ (don't you know it!)
Album Cover: decisions . . . decisions by piX1966's

And the Album Cover . . . (drum roll, please) . . .

You know you're tired when . . .

2007-12-18T22:02:00.000+08:00

. . . you realize you were just asleep while standing in the aisle of an all night dollar store at 1:00 a.m.

The past few weeks may have been busy, but this week is a marathon. On the agenda:
prop making
costume making
puppet stage constructing
wrapping
shopping
gift making
hosting a Christmas dinner for 25
cleaning
snow globe and card making with students
writing cards
sending mail
celebrating birthdays (5 friends in the same week!)
first Christmas ministry performances (for several hundred kids on Friday)
egg nog making
holiday baking

oh, and going to work! i've yet to figure out where sleep factors in, but i think that's what Sunday will be for, if I make it.

sorry i've been too busy to do much posting. please don't give up on me just yet.
hope your holiday season is progressing nicely.

elf yourself!

2007-12-12T09:49:00.000+08:00

Deviating from the December to-do's, I had fun wasting way too much time getting elfed yesterday. Thanks mom and dad for the excuse to procrastinate!

C is for . . .

2007-11-03T01:00:00.000+08:00

change. inevitable, ever present, unavoidable change. sometimes there's cause for embrace. and other times, cause to draw the blinds, curl up beneath the covers of a comfy bed, and drown out the world with movies or music.
change is coming. i can feel it in the air.
i can see it - at work, at home, along the streets, within me.
for now, i'm setting my face to the wind and waiting to see what happens.

C is for Citrus

2007-11-02T09:54:00.000+08:00

Citrus fruit as big as your head, that is. Since Moon Festival, there's been a fantastic selection of all things citrus, particularly within the last few weeks. From pomelos, to oranges and ruby red grapefruits, I'm enjoying my daily doses of C.

C is for Chicken

2007-11-01T11:53:00.000+08:00

Today I'm enjoying a bowl of yummy homemade chicken soup. It's as though it possess some magical power to restore health and well-being simply with each inhalation of steamy goodness. It's a warming comfort that traces its way through me, restoring me with each nutrient packed sip. It's a flavor that incites the feeling of home. I close my eyes and I'm there. Behold the power of chicken soup!

C is for Cookie

2007-10-31T23:19:00.000+08:00

Deviating momentarily from the funk the past few weeks have found me in, there has been a bright spot or two amongst the recent daily grind.

I love music and I've started to implement music into a few of my classes that are otherwise deprived. Music gets used as a teaching tool in beginner classes but quickly fades from the curriculum and classroom once English acquisition picks up a bit. So, I've decided to work it back in, particularly with my first crop of kids for the day, as they are generally sleepy-headed zombies as they file into class. Music during our "set-up and get ready for class" time seems to help my students transit to a state of awakeness and also seems to motivate them in our writing time at the end of class. An instant hit with my 2nd graders has been the Cookie Monster's "C is for Cookie." They love it! And man, I love it too - I can keep them in line and productive simply with the promise to play it.

Moving right along, this year my school did not celebrate Halloween and I admit, I'm not disappointed. Halloween parties can end up being a lot of work and overall, the efforts are rewarded by lots of complaints and whining from the kids. However, in the spirit of Fall, I made pumpkin cookies to share with my classes, garnished with candy corn (Thanks, Sarah! Believe it or not, I still have some left.).

I just knew that if I went to class and actually told the kids that I brought them pumpkin cookies, I'd have a room full of "Eww's" and turned up noses. So, instead, I just offered them a cookie. I let them have up to 3 if they wished, as they were small, and many took me up on the opportunity and had 2 or 3. After they ate and enjoyed their cookies, I took delight in asking if they knew what kind of cookie they were. Of course no one did, and with a smile I told them that they just ate pumpkin cookies. "But teacher, I don't like pumpkin!" shouted several. "Really? That's funny, because you just ate 3 pumpkin cookies. I guess maybe you might like it after all." was my reply. Playing tricks on students - just one of the joys of being a teacher, right up there with tests and homework.

sound off

2007-10-23T10:04:00.000+08:00

So, for the past 2 days I've found myself feeling rather angry - angry about work stuff, angry about world events, angry about dumb stuff from the gay Dumbledore down to the unrelenting tiny ants storming my kitchen, and of course, angry about the dumb guy trying to sell the "pet" raccoon. I confess, I can only go so long without engaging in a debate and I think it's been far too long, so perhaps my need to spend 2 hrs at the track last night to burn off anger was partially due to a long overdue need to argue about something. So here I am, ready to sound off about at least one of the topics burning me this week.

Inspired by photos snapped by a friend in D.C. over the weekend, my target, a-hem, topic for the day is protesters, more specifically the protesters at the World Bank - IMF meetings in D.C. When I first saw the photos, I found myself becoming instantly angry, though uncertain as to why, not at my friend for taking the pictures, but at the protesters themselves. Is it wrong that I think they appear incredibly selfish? There they are, doing what on the surface may appear as a very selfless act to some - protesting things such as the debt held against poor nations. However, all I could see were people who appeared to be more concerned with being seen and heard than they were about what they were saying. Making a spectacle of oneself, and therefore diverting all the attention to oneself, detracts attention from the cause one would have us believe there is actual conviction about.

I didn't see people who cared about a cause nearly as much as getting their 15 minutes of fame. I think it's selfish because I think if they really cared about something, they'd see their time and energy could be put to far more constructive uses with greater reach and benefit. If they really cared, I don't believe they'd be engaged in the street debauchery of puppets, dances, chants and cheers, street theater, music, marches, stripping, and sit-ins. What useful and constructive purpose do they convey? What message is actually being sent to the World Bank, IMF, the nation, and the world at large? See me, notice me? Are they really revolting and rebelling because of a cause or merely using a cause as an excuse to revolt and rebel in general?

If they really care, then step up! Truly sacrifice or do something meaningful in a way that's really going to benefit others. Example, globally, people are impoverished, starving, and homeless. Don't dance on streets crying out for the right of those who have no roads to walk on. Do something real, or shut up! Is it unreasonable to consider that a homeless person doesn't care that you protest how money is being controlled or directed, but that you cared enough to meet them where they are and helped them build a home?

Do something real, or go home! Money does no good when you have nothing to buy with it. I saw this firsthand in Haiti. The people who had a chance, a real chance at a better life, weren't those handed money, but those who outsiders cared about enough to go and take the time to educate on how to have a better life with the very little they had. How to make that very little grow until it was not just enough for them but others as well. Teaching people to care for the land, to think communally rather than individually, to think about tomorrow and not just today, teaching trades and handicrafts, farming, irrigation, how to purify water to make it safe for drinking are examples of ways that real people are making a real difference in the immediate and long-term needs in the lives of others. People are not simply being provided with education and skills, but perhaps for the first time ever in their life, hope. They're also learning how living for today is destroying their tomorrow and the benefits of community. Another example: I'm now living in a country where the lives of my friends are significantly better than those of their parents just a few decades ago, thanks largely to international trade.

Face reality. Though they can be eased and the burden lightened, such serious and widespread problems as poverty, disease, homelessness, starvation, and civil war can never be solved or eradicated because the hearts of men are selfish and corrupt. Not the hearts of the faceless men who drive world finance and business, but of those belonging to the faces in the mirror. One of my favorite passages in Blue Like Jazz (and there are sooo many) is when Miller writes:

I am the problem.
(There comes a time when one must) stop blaming the problems in the world on group think, on humanity and authority, and start to face himself.
The problem is not out there; the problem is the needy beast of a thing that lives in my chest.
I don't have to watch the evening news to see the world is bad, I only have to look at myself.
True change would have to start with the individual.

After his own experience protesting for social justice for the oppressed concluded, "I was the very problem I had been protesting. I wanted to make a sign that read 'I AM THE PROBLEM!' "

While canceling debts is a nice gesture, the action is still incredibly limited in the good it will do without a true willingness on behalf of a country's government and people to commit to change in improving the quality of life. I'm not suggesting that money doesn't factor into the problem, but rather that there are even greater giants standing in the way of reducing poverty, famine, violence, wars, etc.

Finally, as an American abroad, I feel like I fight sterotypes every day. The people who judge me are often ignorant and limited in their knowledge of daily life in America and American culture. They know what they're fed by media, which as I've seen, even influences what they're taught about Americans in schools and at home. When our media feeds the world crap about what we're like, it's no wonder the world has such a low opinion of us. And too many seem to relish in the splendor of putting their best crap forward, on display for the world's criticism. In the end, no one cares how much money and aid, both in material resources and manpower we give to other nations. They care how foolish, selfish, ethnocentric, and egotistical we appear, and sometimes downright are. Why else would we parade ourselves in the streets singing and dancing about something as serious as hunger and poverty?

Do I think protesting in and of itself is wrong? No. Do I think it, at times, can be incredibly selfish considering the alternatives? You betcha! Don't just say that you care, show it!

back of the pet shop

2007-10-21T23:15:00.000+08:00

The sib of a friend was recently on island for a week long visit. We rounded out the week with a number of fun activities on her last day in town including: a yummy Hakka lunch, a post typhoon visit to the harbor complete with visit to the former British consulate, and an evening of shaved ice, a night market visit, and movie watching.

Further posts on the visit may come but for now, I wanted to share one of the highlights of the evening. As listed, one of our stops was a night market. While strolling the streets taking in the sights and sounds, and trying to avoid many of the smells, we happened upon a makeshift pet shop. They offered an interesting assortment of things for sale such as a baby pig, fluffy bunnies, tarantulas and other large arachnids, snakes, snakes, and more snakes, beetles of various sizes, baby hedgehogs, and kangaroo mice. But the best, perhaps, was an animal they were keeping near the back - an adult female raccoon. And it gets better. The price was a mere $800,000 NT (Taiwan dollars). That's roughly $25,000 US . . . for a raccoon. And not just any raccoon, but a North American raccoon brought over from the States and now put on display in a small cage at a hot and noisy night market.

I was mad, to say the least. A raccoon is not a pet! You can not just capture any animal you wish and try to pawn it off as a pet. It belongs in the wild and not in a cage in the city.

A friend spoke to the owner to inquire after the animal, which is how we learned it was brought over from the U.S. She had wanted to pet it but dared not for fear of getting bitten despite the owner's assurance that it was a female raccoon and therefore not aggressive, basically harmless. Seriously?! Why is someone who clearly knows so little about raccoons currently in possession of one? Also upon talking to the owner, he stated the price as being $80,000NT ($2,500US), though the sign clearly had an additional zero. Clerical error by the hand wielding the black marker that denoted the price or tactic to ward off less than serious buyers? Either way, while I am concerned for the animal's well-being, I hope no city dweller is foolish enough to claim her for a pet, though there's bound to be someone roped in by its "exotic" charm.

Thanks a Brunch

2007-10-14T17:18:00.000+08:00

This afternoon, a friend and I swung by Brunch, a chain cafe, for some post lunch coffee. They packaged our 2 cups-to-go, which we could have carried in hand, in an oversized bag. However, upon closer examination, the poetry on the bag made the indulgence in resources totally worth it:

Coffee brings me temporary self-inuigeene
and makes me feel at ease
I want to run away from my life!
I want to travel, and serch listiessiy!
I walk and walk . . .
And find myself returning
to the starting point.
I whisper to myself;
Have another cup of coffee!

Ahh, I am so deeply stirred beyond expression except for to exclaim, I think I'll have another cup of coffee!

I scream, You Scream

2007-10-11T00:15:00.000+08:00

My late summer acquisition of an ice cream maker has been much fun indeed. Experimenting with recipes has resulted in a number of yummy frozen treats. Not only did summer gathering invites increase, but being the trendsetter that I am, two local families purchased ice cream makers within days of sampling homemade ice cream.

Among the attempted delights:

Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream
Green Tea Gelato
Coconut Ice Cream
Mango Sherbert
Mango Ripple Ice Cream
Coffee Brownie Ice Cream
Peanut Butter Ice Cream w/ Peanut Butter Oreos
Avocado Coconut Ice Cream
Old Fashion Vanilla
Watermelon Frozen Yogurt
Piña Colada Sherbet
Passion Fruit Ice Cream

Temptations to come: mint chocolate chip, chocolate with mint chips, apple cider ice cream, tiramisu, blueberry cheesecake, banana, and cinnamon spice

Suggestions?

secret keeper

2007-10-10T23:15:00.000+08:00

when i was a kid, i was naive enough to think knowing secrets was cool, as though it was an honor to be trusted and entrusted with that knowledge. now, however, i know the burden they can be and the weight they carry.
knowledge may be power, but it's also a lot of responsibility. i'm a tired knowledge bearer and secret keeper.
thinking of all that God must know, both secrets and confessions, what an unbearable task that would be for any human to shoulder. all knowing is not so worth envying. seriously, what was satan thinking in wanting to be like God?

Double 10

2007-10-10T17:56:00.000+08:00

Ahh, another partial work week granted to us compliments of Taiwan's National Day - 10/10. I decided to make it a day at home to accomplish some frequently put off tasks - sorting papers, letter writing, laundry, blogging. . . For my company, I selected a few famous classic flicks that I've previously not see. I love that I can get classic films on dvd for $1 at my local supermarket. So, first up was Gone With the Wind. I caved and decided to find out what all the fuss was about. What I discovered was a long movie, a very LONG movie, chockfull of old Hollywood cheesiness but in the end, I still kind of liked it. However, I didn't like the cliffhanger ending. I mean, will Scarlett ever get Rhett back? What will become of Ashley and Beau? Will she be content to stay at Tara? Oh Tara, Tara! How it makes me long for my own non-Southern, unnamed, fraction-of-the-size home of my youth. As for Scarlett, for some reason I had not imagined her to be such a despisable, selfish creature, and yet somehow in the end, I still found myself wanting to root for her, wanting her to find a way to redeem herself for all the poor and selfish choices she had made. Oh those Hollywood film makers, they're tricky like that - convincing you to side with an arguable villainess.

Anyway, next on the list for my viewing pleasure is Casablanca, another film I've yet to see. While I've enjoyed the trip to yesteryear, I think for my next movie day I might explore something a bit more modern such as Pulp Fiction or First Knight. Despite my years of movie watching, I think I've seen surprisingly few of the more famed cinematic selections. Any suggestions of what to add to my rainy day "must see" list?

2007-10-09T14:38:00.000+08:00

stay tuned, more blogging to come soon. you can look forward to these delightful topics: rodents, rage, rain, and well, other ramblings.

a snack with a buzz

2007-09-23T22:47:00.000+08:00

. . . or perhaps just a sting

Word on the web is that Tokyo is creating a buzz with its digger wasp rice crackers, or jibachi senbei. The inventive minds behind the snack belong to a Japanese wasp fan club hailing from Omachi, about 120 miles northwest of Tokyo. After catching the digger wasps in nearby forests, the insects are boiled and dried before being sprinkled over the cracker dough. The crackers are described as being " slightly more oily than the soy-sauce flavored traditional ones" and the fan club claims the insect addition "adds a waspish scent to the traditional fare," and lets face it, who doesn't find themself for want of more waspish scent in their life?
While not a hit amongst the young crowd, the wasp crackers are apparently a crowd pleaser with older folks. Output is said to be limited as wasps are caught in the wild for "optimum" flavor.

2007-09-17T21:58:00.000+08:00

and now it's time for a youtube moment . . .

best buys

2007-09-17T02:04:00.000+08:00

Though summer days may be fleeting, I'm still enjoying some of my favorite buys from the sunnier days gone by. Here are my top 5 summer purchase picks in no particular order:

Harry Potter 7

It was perfect timing as book 7's release coincided with the beginning of summer vacation. The book was consumed through 2 relaxing days spent curling up in comfy chairs at Starbucks.

Crocs

With Crocs Shops popping up all over town, the vastly popular footwear has finally become easily attainable on-island so I finally gave in and snagged a pair.

Ice Cream Maker

You scream, I scream, anytime is a good time for ice cream! For several years I've wanted one and this summer I spied this lovely ice cream/sorbet/frozen yogurt maker for a price too sweet to pass up.

Grey's Anatomy Seasons 2 & 3

An early summer care package from a friend happened to contain Season 1 and I was instantly hooked. I plowed through seasons 2 and 3 soon after.

Convertible Skirt

A camping trip led to this find, however, it wasn't until after the first wear that I discovered my straight, mid-calf grazing skirt could be easily gathered in an assortment of ways for a variety of looks. A skirt with options - I like it!

2007-09-13T23:58:00.000+08:00

this morning i was attacked by a rabid raccoon . . . and then i woke up.

for the past few weeks i've not been sleeping well. i've been getting enough sleep, but not quality sleep and not at night but during some pocket of the morning. i realized today that with the kinds of dreams i've been having lately, it's no wonder i've been having a difficult time coaxing myself to sleep. there's no telling what i'll be waking up from next. each night seems to be in competition with the preceding to produce the most ridiculous, outlandish, or distressing dream, and for some of them, it actually takes awhile after waking to convince myself that it was indeed all invented in a dream and not a dream about something that actually happened.

the last day of my 2 week summer vacation was a sunday. i awoke from an afternoon nap that followed a busy morning, and went out for a walk to buy some bread. along the way, i thought about how vacation was coming to an end and tomorrow would mean a return to work. i also reflected on how i spent my vacation, mainly my trip to ecuador with friends becky and rick. we had had a great 2 weeks there and i wish we could have stayed longer. this continued for over a half hour until suddenly, like a glass falling to the floor and shattering into a hundred pieces, the reality broke over me that i had spent my entire vacation in taiwan. in fact, i've never even traveled to south america. yet how could i have so many vivid memories of the trip? how is it that the events of an afternoon nap had me convinced for nearly an hour afterwards that they actually occurred?

more than just a pleasant dream that i'd like to believe actually happened, my dreams lately have been accompanied with an element that makes them seem so convincingly real that they've kept me on my toes the past few months as though tip-toeing through a minefield of make believe and reality. with autumn's approach, i'm looking forward hopeful for a new phase with nights once again filled with sleep, lovely, restful, sleep.

morning person

2007-09-13T23:00:00.000+08:00

I don't think I've ever been mistaken for a morning person. Mind you, I have no disdain for the a.m. hours. In fact, I love to see the early morning, however, I'd prefer to do so by staying up all night rather than waking early. I'm a night owl. I love the perceived peace of a world asleep.

Despite this, I started out my week with a noble goal, an attempt to change my ways. For a week, I'd try out the life of an early bird. The challenge: to get up between 5-6a.m. for a morning run and to have a productive pre-work day. I'm not fully sure why I decided to do such a thing, but decided to commit to the goal nonetheless.

I failed. Oh, I failed, I failed, I failed. Rather than waking early, I spent an entire week unable to fall asleep until somewhere between the hours of 4-6 a.m., so unless I'm planning to change my definition of "early bird" to someone who stays up until the wee hours of the morning, I failed.

Still, there's something to be said for the early hours of morning, for the coolness of night dissipating in a morning mist, for first light, for the changing colors of the morning sky, for the air of a new day, for the sounds of the world waking up.

So here is my tribute to a time when reality was better than I remember it, rather than remembering something as better than it was. Here's to something good, to something I miss, to a reason to be up before dawn no matter how you do it.

2007-09-11T23:12:00.000+08:00

Today I . . .

started my day an hour earlier than intended compliments of the 8:00 a.m. construction work overhead

got sunburned on one arm while taking an afternoon joyride to the DMV with a friend - you know you've been driving a scooter too long when you give up a free afternoon to ride around in a car

consumed a pot of coffee and a pot of tea - my way of coping with the day after 4 hours of sleep

broke glass with a hammer- on purpose

rid my outdoor trashcan of a nation of maggots- totally gross

ate in reverse with noodle soup for breakfast and chocolate chip pancakes for dinner - perhaps adulthood has a few perks after all

finally made a blog entry!!!

say something

2007-08-20T23:37:00.000+08:00

a.k.a. back on the wagon again

It would appear I have fallen off the blogging bandwagon.

That said, a friend told me this evening that you know it's time to get back on the wagon when you start hearing voices. Okay, so maybe she wasn't referring to blogging but no need to take chances.

It's hard to believe that nearly an entire summer has unfolded since last writing. As usual I find myself wondering where the time has gone and just what did I do with it? Likewise, many who know me have been wondering a bit of the same as evidenced by the "are you dead yet?" emails that weekly make their way to my inbox. Somehow in an effort to take a break from things this summer, friends and fam. happened to get unintentionally ex-communicated in the process. It wasn't so much for a lack of things to communicate but rather a lack of desire to will myself into action. However, before those voices start speaking up, I suppose it's time to get back on the wagon and say something.

2007-06-29T09:51:00.000+08:00

gone fishing

what can i say, other than apparently i'm taking a break. it's not for a lack of things to write about. more a lack in ability to will my fingers to type and my body to stay plunked in a chair long enough to complete anything. perhaps though, this will be the baby step that sends me walking, errr writing, soon.

Shelldom

2007-06-07T00:02:00.000+08:00

I've always kind of liked turtles. They're sort of clunky and awkward, not particularly entertaining and yet I've always thought of them as kind of cool.

In fact, I think if I were not a person, I might choose to be one. They seem to lead a simple life, somewhat nomadic, not particularly social, not quite loners but perhaps just independent, and of course, there's the shell. The shell would perhaps seal the deal. It's a place that's safe, secure, alone, all your own - a retreat and a defense all in one package.

I convinced my parents once to let me have turtles. Sometime in high school I had several baby turtles. They were tiny creatures housed in a tank on my nightstand. Though they didn't last long, they still lasted long enough to teach me a a few things, though I don't think I realized any of it until now.

Hiding

A shell is not enough. Despite the illusion of the shell being a place of escape, a place to shut out the rest of the world when you've had enough, when it's time for a break, or even the image of a shell as a hard exterior to hide under when you're feeling weak, feeling the need for some protection, it's not enough.

In their tank of water and rocks, my young turtles would often take to hiding around the rocks. Perhaps they just liked to hang out in the crevices or perhaps it made them feel more secure and better protected. Occasionally we let them loose in the living room to run and play. Man, could they run fast! However, no matter the starting point, they always managed to find their way to the sofa and zip beneath content to remain until someone lifted it so they could be safely scooped out.

Even with their shell to retreat to, within their tank they made their way beneath the largest thing they could find. Despite their shell, when set free to roam the living room, they always made their way beneath the sofa, the largest thing they could find to hide under. It was as though the built-in defense of their genetic composition was somehow not enough. Even turtles take to hiding beneath something bigger than their shell.

Though I often miss living with my family, though I've really enjoyed sharing apartments with several of my previous roommates, there is still something satisfying about living on my own. For I am a turtle - clunky and awkward, not particularly entertaining, somewhat nomadic, not particularly social, not quite a loner but perhaps just independent, and it's nice to have this shell of an apartment, something bigger than myself, to come home to. A place to retreat to, a place that feels secure, a place to be alone, a place to call my own. A place to be when I feel like quitting the world for a bit, a place to take a break. A place of cozy familiarity and warmth. A place to be when I'm feeling weak and in need of some protection.

You see, I have these things called thoughts and feelings and despite the storehouse of my brain and the protective caging of my skull to seal them in, it's just not enough. Uncommunicated they remain protected and lodged somewhere in my head, and yet, that's not enough. There's still a need for a larger shell and so I run home to that largest place I can find only to lodge myself in the crevice of my room to once again feel safe, protected, at home.

Coming out

The funny thing about turtles, at least the ones I've observed, is this: in the end, there is something that seems to have greater power over them than the need for seclusion, security, and protection, a force strong enough to draw them out of hiding. Warmth. The sun and the warm glow of light would eventually draw them out. It's something that takes precedence over the need to be alone, the protection of a rock to hide under, or the security of a shell to hide within. Eventually they're called out of their hiding place to absorb the warmth of the sun with all of their being despite the fact that it also makes them vulnerable. Not only are weaknesses exposed, they're put on display.

I think the same holds true for me. Alone is only good for so long. Eventually I'm called out by the Son. Eventually I give over to the warmth, not out of loneliness but obedience. Eventually I quit my hiding place, despite feeling vulnerable, despite exposing my weakness, because a part of me can't resist. A part of me knows that there's something better about being in the Son then being tucked away alone.

Should I ever decide this business of being a human just isn't for me, I still think I might like to be a turtle - knowing when it's time to be called out, knowing when it's time to be in the sun, gathering warmth to sustain in darkness, through the night, through the storms, through the winters. To know that as good as it can feel to have a place to hide, a place to call my own, a place to feel secure, there's something satisfying, something infinitely better about being in the sun despite being vulnerable and exposing weaknesses.

oh, just a typical Saturday morning

2007-05-26T19:13:00.000+08:00

Most days as I scoot along to my daily destination I'm in a general state of oblivion to the changing world around me, in part because I either left the house late or with just enough time to get where I'm headed and partially because careless drivers demand most, if not all, of my attention. Despite this, there are times when the bizarre demands recognition and wins my attention.

When you live in a city, there are bound to be a few rats. It's not a pretty picture to be walking along the sidewalk and have a rat dart out of a food establishment and cross your path. Well this morning, new meaning was given to the term "rat race" as I found myself breaking in traffic to avoid a large rat that ran out of a building to make a dash across a busy roadway.

About 10 minutes later and within blocks of my Saturday class I got my second treat of the morning. As I waited at a red light, another scooterist, a woman in her 60's, entered the turning box beside me. As I glanced her direction to catch the time remaining on the crosswalk timer, I couldn't help but notice she was wearing a pair of 2000 sunglasses similar to the ones in the picture.
Now mind you, this woman was otherwise nicely dressed: skirt, blouse, heels, jewelry, but somehow it was hard to notice any of those things for the giant "2000" extending beyond her helmet on either side. It did happen to be a sunny morning. Did she leave the house, notice the blaring sun, and then find herself at the mercy of the 7 year old specs for inability to find suitable alternative eyewear? Seriously?

Later in the day I shared the story with a friend who happens to live in the same neighborhood the encounter occurred and the outcome was some possible light being shed on the subject. There happened to be an event in a local park with clowns that morning. Despite my wishful thinking, I'm not fully convinced that was this woman's destination. Other than her eyewear, nothing about her hinted at being a clown. Sure, she still could have been, but even so, why wear the glasses while driving around?

b and f#

2007-05-21T23:59:00.000+08:00

"You can't play with your Gameboy or the bad men will find you and shoot you."

Somewhere out there, there are invaders - "bad men" and when they land, many will hide in silent fear. However, this only makes their task easier - to seek out those naughty children audacious enough to play their noisy Gameboys during an invasion. Well, the "bad men" may have landed somewhere, but on this day, it was not in this country, for this was a test. It was only a test.

Well ladies and gents, all the former hype was over an air raid drill. They occur at least once but sometimes twice a year. The air raid siren sounds, (on b and f#, or so I've been informed by a self-professed music nerd) and for about 30 minutes, city drivers are to clear the roadways. In the past I've been either at home or at work when the drills have occurred, though once I happened to be on my way to work.

What I suppose I never realized in the past was that they're scheduled - they are made public knowledge, I suppose so people can plan ahead to be where they need to be before one occurs. I guess until now I thought they were spontaneous. After all, would that not be a better test of people's response time in an emergency as actual emergencies tend not to get scheduled in advance? Perhaps since I've never known about them in advance in the past, the idea of them occurring without warning has never seemed like a big deal to me, though logically looking back on things, I suppose the random occurrence of one would leave many wondering if it was a test or an actual emergency, so ya, I guess the idea of knowing is kind of nice.

Sometimes it does strike me to wonder how I function in a place as ignorant of things as I am. Along with the revelation that the air raid drills are scheduled was the realization that there are other things citizens are supposed to do, aside from clearing roadways. Though I've yet been able to find a policy or guidelines for the drill, I'm sure they exist. In the meantime, however, I've gathered a bit of info from others such as: people are to conserve electricity during a drill, stay indoors, make your way to the basement level of your building, observe quiet time, etc.

And so the fun beings! Trying to get a room full of kids to take a drill seriously and remain quiet for 30 minutes is most likely not an easy task for many teachers, and so, I suppose that's why wild stories of the do's and don'ts of air raid drills have reached our ears, via our students and communicated to them by their elementary school teachers. For example, classes of kids informed a friend of mine about how the "bad men" will hear them and come to shoot them if they make any noise during a drill. So, have lying, or at least embellishing the truth, and the fear factor become what the elementary schools are resorting to in order to coerce kids into cooperating? Yikes! That's a sad and troubling thought. The only (or at least easiest) way to make kids listen is to lie to them and play the fear card? There seemed to be no shortage of wild tales as to what might happen to kids if they break silence during an air raid drill. I do understand how hard it can be to get kids to listen and cooperate, but there's got to be a better way, right?

this is a test, this is only a test

2007-05-21T23:44:00.000+08:00

so, this evening i received the following text from a friend:

tomorrow there's some sort of drill from 12:00-12:30. you cannot be outdoors or make any kind of noise. no electric appliances running, no game boys, and no banging on the walls with clubs.

the craziest thing of all, perhaps, is that she was serious. turns out her reliable source on the matter was a group of students, but there's definitely something going down tomorrow. the apartment building management posts signs in the elevator - ads for local businesses, building matters, and media pertaining to the community or city.

well i checked this evening and there it was, a sign with tomorrow's date, the time frame of 12-12:30, and a list of do nots. naturally it's posted in mandarin so i could make out as much as it being a list of things not to do, but the specifics escape me.

i am intrigued however. it should be interesting to see what the lunch hour holds tomorrow, though i must confess, it will be difficult to restrain myself from banging on the walls with a club, even if it is just for one afternoon.

spilt milk

2007-05-13T22:41:00.000+08:00

What I should have been doing this weekend was take care of some of the glaringly obvious tasks that need done around the house such as sweeping up paper scraps from prepping Mother's Day crafts for 70 kids or addressing the mountain of laundry that must be leapt over to get from my bed to my dresser. Seriously, I'm not a slob and I hate mess, however, busyness and procrastination remain my constant companions.

I've not been entirely unproductive around the house though. Instead of the more immediate things that need done, I've been tackling the odd jobs, the tasks usually reserved for the occasional rainy day. Perhaps I should be living in Paris or Seattle - I'd be getting more accomplished. No rain today, however, there was the pesky need to cross something off the to-do list before the weekend diminished and thus, I dismantled and cleaned my computer keyboard, piece-by-piece. My original attempt was to use small q-tips to clean between keys and ultimately beneath them, however, once the first key accidentally popped off, I saw my golden opportunity. Dismantling was a must.

Let me rewind for a moment. My keyboard has become proof as to why one, or at least I, should not eat or drink near the computer. Back in the fall during the first week of ownership of my lovely new mac, I christened the keyboard with chicken noodle soup when I had a mishap as I attempted to complete the task of sitting down at the desk with a bowl of soup. I'm ashamed to say, there was another incident with soup during the winter months. Have I not learned my lesson?! Me and the need to multi-task - what good can come of it? Then there was the past week when my keyboard suffered the fate of an introduction to milk, an encounter which has rendered my left Shift key useless, but I'm glad that was the only damage. My clumsiness astounds me sometimes. Beyond that, do you know how awkward it is to suddenly have to use the right Shift for all capitalization? Reconditioning is annoying.

So, have I learned my lesson yet? I suppose not, as I've dripped water on the keypad twice while composing this. Tomorrow is a new day, however, and hopefully a drier and safer future is in store for the keyboard.

april abridged

2007-05-01T02:24:00.000+08:00

fare thee well, my april. you were long but short.

april is probably my favorite month and i'm always a bit sad to see it go. it tends to be a sort of complex feeling month - full of memories, nostalgia, and a few growing pains.

i love thinking it's an often over-looked and under appreciated month, perhaps i love it all the more for that reason. like that special spot in a book store, coffee shop, or park where i know i can find myself alone and be comforted in knowing i've found my own little hole in the world, that is april, my hide-out, my secret space.

april's the month that feels like it takes forever to roll around and then once it arrives, flies by. however, as i look back over the past month, i marvel at just how much got crammed in and rejoice that i didn't spend the month as a recluse. so, in memory of my favoritist of months, here's my send off salute - favorite memories of the month:

early month camping trip:

moi: ugh, what is that smell?!
beck: it's the dogs! they've been rolling in something . . . and i think it was dead!

("dead things mikey, dead things!")

and so progressed that weekend, trying to keep 3 dogs from rolling in dead things and subsequently bringing the foul stench into the cabin.

a new favorite desert is born:

in lieu of cake for my b-day, i made chocolate pot de creme.
upon first bite, a friend, in a startlingly loud voice declared, "holy crap!" followed by a slightly quieter "that's chocolate!" which left the rest of us at first instant shocked, but soon after tearing in laughter.

mid-month marathon:

the middle of the month was marked by a weekend marathon of the lord of the rings trilogy viewing. to commemorate the occasion and reward our dedication and efforts, we splurged on some imported goodies such as combos, sun chips, and dr. pepper. also making an appearance that weekend was some chocolate pot de creme, or as it's been affectionately dubbed around here, "holy crap."

as you like it!

april brings the return of what has become an annual tradition - attending the spring musical of an area university, performed in english. in previous years we've seen such shows as 3 penny opera, into the woods, and godspell. while i've enjoyed them all, this year's show, as you like it, was perhaps my favorite. as an added bonus, the university showcasing the musical is along the sea. ah, sea and stars.

i've got game:

late in the month i enjoyed hanging out and playing a few new board games with friends. while i occasionally enjoy playing games, i rarely win. however, for one night, i had game. i not only won at everything we played, i creamed the competition, or so i like to remember the evening.

sa-yo-na-ra:

sadly this month meant saying goodbye to a co-worker and his wife, both of whom i've become friends with over the past year, as they prepare to leave the island and move home to canada.

finally, the month concluded with a send-off party for my friend joining the crew of the Doulos for the next 2 months. the weekend long out-of-town event resulted in being assaulted by a belly dancer (all in good humor) and learning some new mock-swearing lingo from an american kid - holy zit!

thus concludes the month. see you next year, april!

this city bites!

2007-04-14T23:34:00.000+08:00

Well, my city made international news this week after a croc attack at our zoo. Visitors are expected to flock to the zoo over the weekend to check out the now famous reptile.

get out of town

2007-04-12T23:24:00.000+08:00

Last week we had a Thursday-Sunday 4 day weekend. Despite having winter vacation just 2 months ago, I was already feeling a desperate need to not only get out of town but out of the country for a few days. My sights were set on Japan, specifically Tokyo. The timing seemed perfect. A cousin currently has a house there so not only could I visit with a relative, I'd have accommodations. Second, the cherry blossoms where in bloom. For some reason, since I've come to Taiwan I've had a goal of making it to Japan during Cherry Blossom Festival but until now, I've never had the time off to do so. Finally, it would have been a cool way to spend Easter and my birthday but alas, it was not to be. In the end, a one hour Saturday morning obligation for which I could not find a sub kept me in town. I've recently been encountering frustrations with this particular obligation so to loose a 4 day weekend due to it was to add insult to injury, especially when in the past we've rarely had these mini-breaks during the year. Of course no one wanted to sub because they too had the same idea - get out of town, and I couldn't blame them. Responsibility won again, blasted!

I did, however, manage to escape for at least 2 of the 4 days and spent time relaxing with friends on a nearby island. The break was filled with plenty of reading on the beach, beach combing, exploring tide pools, aimless driving, and sea-gazing, a perfect prescription for life as of recent. The holiday in observance that weekend was Tomb Sweeping Day, a time to pay respect and honor the dead. Incidentally, this island was the very place I spent the holiday last year, though under slightly blue-er skies. Photos from my most recent trip and not ready to be developed, so here are a few from last year in my tribute to the holiday and escaping city life.

apparently, I don't live here anymore

2007-04-12T03:46:00.000+08:00

In Taiwan, most apartment buildings and housing compounds are equipped with 24 hr security guard service. As a result, in addition to paying rent each month, there is a building management/maintenance fee (in short referred to as guard fee). For my apartment, it's about $45US/month, a price that to me seems a bit steep for a building that appears to have seen its glory days about a decade ago. Don't get me wrong though, I love my apt., which is why I choose to live at present locale despite the general decline of the compound on the whole.

So, imagine my surprise and delight at the end of February when I received my March guard bill and discovered the amount had been reduced by half. Yippee! There was a handwritten note in Chinese on the line beside the new fee. I had a Taiwanese friend translate the note but not much sense was made from it. What she surmised was that the fee was reduced because of giving up a car parking space. However, I had never had/utilized a car parking space, so why was I now getting a discount for giving up something I never had to begin with? I'd have to wait until the landlady came to straighten things out. Perhaps she'd have some insight.

March came and had almost passed entirely while the bill remained unpaid as I awaited a visit from my landlady. (note: in Taiwan individual apartments within an apartment building are usually owned by different people so the owner of mine does not actually live nearby.) The night of her visit finally arrived by the end of the month. One night after work, a run, and finally, a shower, I found myself leaving my bathroom wrapped in a towel just as my landlady, her sister, and one of the security guards were frantically making their way into my apartment. Umm, okay, mind if I put on a bit of clothes? They appeared to be as surprised and flustered to see me as I was to see them, for you see, I had apparently moved. In their defense, they had knocked and rang the bell several times before resorting to having a guard let them in, but being that I was in the shower, the commotion was drowned out. Anyway, it was all news to me that I no longer lived here, but someone got the idea in their head that I had moved out, perhaps as long as a month ago, and alerted my landlady that I no longer lived here. She, in turn, was confused as to why I'd leave without saying anything or trying to re-claim my security deposit and skip out on paying the rent.

The notion that I had left was totally ridiculous! As a friend pointed out, at least several times a week friends stop by my apartment, friends who must pass by the gate guard before getting into the compound. These are friends who come often and are recognized by the guards as friends of mine and considering they didn't stop frequenting my apartment since the time I supposedly "moved," why the heck did the guards think they were still coming here and why did they keep letting them in if they didn't think I lived here any longer?

Secondly, if the landlady was so panicked, she could have tried calling me. Granted, I'm not home much so reaching me via land line isn't always easy. And as for calling my cell, well, there had been only one call from her and it was on the same night that she came by. I had missed the call and hadn't seen it until after she left. Furthermore, she has my work phone number and once had to reach me there, so if all else failed and she truly thought I moved, she could have called my school to verify.

Finally, if the shoe rack with at least a dozen pairs of shoes outside my front door wasn't a give away that someone just might still be inhabiting the place, then I don't know what would be. Why would I move and leave most of my shoes behind?

So, obviously it became apparent rather quickly that I very much still live here. Clothed and with guard bill in hand, I joined in the process of trying to sort out the mess. Luckily for me, I'm blessed with a very kind and reasonable landlady. We proceeded to the guard station to try to figure out why the blunder occurred and also to find out the reason for the guard fee discount. It turns out the discount was because I had moved out. A half price fee is passed on to the owner of the apt. while it remains empty, so for over a month, despite my passing in and out of the building daily, someone came to the conclusion that I had moved out. Despite the fact that we've maintained a good rapport, now that the idea was planted, my landlady became worried that I may just one day up and move out without warning. It took a bit of convincing to ease her mind. By the end of the night, rent was paid, full guard fee paid, rounds of apologies made, and everything cleared up, or so I thought . . .

Not more than a few days later, I received my new guard bill for April. This time instead of being surprised by a discount, I was surprised by an additional fee of about $24US! Now what?! A few days later a friend stopped by and serving as my translator, we made our way to the guard station to get things straightened out. Now I was being charged an additional fee for the cleaning out of my parking space since I had moved! All this after establishing the fact that I indeed did NOT move. Furthermore, on the bill, I was being charged full price for the guard fee, further indicating I had not moved, yet on the same bill, I was being charged a cleaning fee because I moved. Next, how/why am I being charged a cleaning fee for a parking space that I never had/used? And finally, what exactly is done to "clean out" a parking space, especially, what could possibly be done to warrant a $24 cleaning charge? It's a parking garage! Except for some occasional sweeping, there's nothing ever done to "clean" the place. The charge was naturally dropped and the guard we dealt with, who is the most senior of the lot, was mad that such mistakes were being made and was both reasonable and apologetic.

In summary, despite what some may have you to believe, I have not moved.

It's been one of those days, weeks, months, years?

2007-04-11T23:23:00.000+08:00

I guess you could say I've been dealing with the ugly side of life in a foreign culture.

Life under the microscope: where if one more person comes up to me at the grocery store for the purpose of peering and occasionally prodding in my shopping basket, I'm may just do the same thing right back to them.

Life at the zoo: where if one more kid points and declares "foreigner" or "American," I'm going to point right back with a few remarks of my own. What is it with the need to state the obvious here?! Furthermore, I'm not a monkey at the zoo!

Life as a punching bag: where I'm to take every blow given and expected to bounce right back and with a smile nonetheless. Speaking in defense is futile. Nothing is heard because nothing is listened to and so I'm always wrong, always ridiculous, always stupid.

Life in a construction zone: who wouldn't want jackhammering, pounding, and drilling on the floor above them at 7:oo a.m.? Seriously, how often does one apartment need re-modeling/repair work done?

Life at the circus: where a clown seems to be behind the wheel of just about everything moving, regarding life and safety with great carelessness. If I have one more scooter driving straight for me on the wrong side of the road, I may just snap and decide to play chicken, seeing who moves out of the way first. I'm so tired of being forced out of the way by people going the wrong way.

Throughout the day, I feel like I'm forever being bombarded by so much stupid stuff I just wouldn't have to deal with if I threw in the towel and went home. I suppose a part of me thought by this stage in the game, life would have moved beyond the point of caring about and being frustrated by all this stupid stuff and yet, the garbage in life still amasses and makes a stench to overpower anything good.

I guess there's an ugly side to living just about anywhere and perhaps even for those with a semi-charmed life, if you stick around a place long enough, it's bound to push a few buttons. Some buttons have now been pushed so often, they're just about worn out and ready for retirement.

2007-04-06T02:31:00.000+08:00

argh, still bloggin from the past and still hopelessly behind. i've been either too busy, too tired, or too mentally washed out to keep up.

Doulos

2007-03-31T23:23:00.000+08:00

The same weekend as the all-encompassing party, my former roommates and I spent our Sunday afternoon checking out the Doulos, docked for two weeks at the Kaohsiung Harbour. Interest in seeing the ship was peaked by the fact that one in present company would be working aboard for 2 months in May and June.

A quick rundown of the ship:

Built in the USA in 1914 (2 years after the Titanic), the MV Doulos is the world's oldest active ocean-going passenger ship.

During her history, she has sailed under 4 different names and has been used for quite a variety of purposes such as freighting goods, transporting emigrants, and for cruises.

In 1977, the ship was purchased by the German based private, non-profit, charitable organization Good Books for All.

Since becoming the Doulos, the ship has visited over 500 ports in more than 100 countries and has welcomed more than 19 million visitors aboard for tours, programs, and visits to their large on-deck book fair.

(We, as in I, sort of volunteered Emi to take part in a magic trick, part of the
entertainment as we waited in the 2 hr. line. She can now look forward
to many days of strangling visitors during her 2 months on board.)

While I enjoyed checking out and purchasing several books and was particularly excited to see all the Christian literature (and in English!!), to call the ship a giant floating book fair grossly undermines its purpose. The ship's motto is: Bringing knowledge, help, and hope. In addition to bringing literature to their various ports of call, the purpose of the Doulos is to "encourage inter-cultural understanding, train young people for more effective life and service, promote greater global awareness, provide practical aid, and share a message of hope in God wherever there is opportunity." Upon doing a bit of research, I also learned that Doulos is Greek for bond servant or slave. I found this to be cool because all the crew members, both short-term and long-term, are volunteers, including the captain. In fact, they have to raise support to cover the expenses of living on board. What a testimony the crew members have in their willingness and commitment to serve God and others both on board and in the countries they visit.

(We went from watching the entertainment to entertaining
ourselves as we waited in line.)

I'm ready to go home, Toto

2007-03-28T23:29:00.000+08:00

There's no place like home is the sentiment of the day.

As I followed the yellow path laid into the sidewalk on my evening jog, I wanted my own personal yellow brick road, not one to lead me around the block but to guide me home.

Home to my apartment, as too much running in circles had left me parched, thirsting for water, something I usually detest drinking.

Home to the U.S., as too much running in circles has left me wanting to break free from the trained act my life has become.

Home to the place of my youth and a time when it was much easier to convince myself that I cared about and loved anything at all.

Home to Heaven, a place that only a year ago I began to see as the place my restless soul must consider home.

ready, set, run!

2007-03-26T11:00:00.000+08:00

Ahh, a clean room is a beautiful thing. I had enough and finally caved and unpacked suitcases from last month, put away the mounds of clean laundry, sucked up the dust bunnies, and gave my room the long overdue cleaning it needed. In the process, I unearthed the wonderful new pair of running shoes I acquired while visiting cousins Stateside.

During my several day visit, my cousin and his wife extended offers to workout with them. He's in the process of training for Ironman and she competes in marathons so I thought I'd spare myself the lesson in humility and politely decline their invitations. I did, however, take them up on their offer to shop for new sneakers, something I intended to pick up while home anyway. As full time master's program student, part time athletic store employee, and all-the-time fitness guru, my cousin's wife taught me just how high-tec and sophisticated things could be in selecting the right shoe.

At her place of employment, The Athlete's Foot, I got to try their unique, state-of-the-art FitPrint System. By identifying pressure points through different phases of a person's step, not just the athletic activity but the individual's feet are taken into consideration in recommending an ideal shoe. Over the past few years, I've been purchasing the same shoe, just a newer model each time. It was cool to see how well I actually knew my own feet because the kind I usually get was one of the ones recommended, though she also had me try a few others from brands I wouldn't normally consider and to my surprise, I ended up going with a differnt brand. The experience also provided some cool tips on putting on my shoes, a different lacing technique, and even tips for deciding among pairs that all feel right, such as listening to the sound of my steps. I was even allowed to go outside and test each pair on the pavement. I was impressed by the service, knowledge, and overall experience. Though the family tie could be slightly swaying my favorable opinion, I'd still recommend the shop.

So today I decided it was time to stop admiring the lovely pair of shoes and get them dirty. Time to hit the pavement and grass and get back into running. Time to resume the routine I've been shirking off the last month and a half and get back to feeling a bit more like myself again.

party like it's 1999

2007-03-25T02:25:00.000+08:00

I'm pathetically behind on completing a half dozen barely started posts, but hopefully it's nothing a weekend at home can't fix.

A few weeks back, one of my best friends celebrated her birthday and when it comes to birthdays, this friend is a true kid at heart. In fact, I question whether there could be a kid out there who loves celebrating a birthday as much as she does. There's a sort of shameless self-promotion that goes on display in letting everyone know that it's her birthday, she's throwing a party, and you're invited.

Knowing work would keep me from attending her Saturday afternoon scavenger hunt b-day bash, which happened to fall two weeks after her birthday, I decided to throw her a little surprise party the weekend beforehand. A mutual friend and former roommate of ours would be in town and several friends with obligations the weekend of her bash would also be able to attend the surprise fling, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to celebrate. Besides, what's more fun than one birthday party if not two (actually, I think she ended up having 4 or 5 if you include the ones at work).

And so, things took off from there. Guests were invited, the house cleaned, plans made for the dinner, cake, balloons, etc., salsa music selected for a little dancin', cover story laid upon the b-day girl, and other party details arranged. Then comes the week of the party. Rumors began to reach my ears that my friend was also realizing what a great opportunity it would be to celebrate her birthday the night of surprise party because of our out of town friend being among us and since a few other friends who couldn't make it to her original party would also be able to attend. And thus, she began to plan a second b-day party for herself at the same time and place as her surprise one that I had been planning for a week plus.

Naturally some were slightly confused as to why she was inviting them to a party I had already invited them to and claimed to be a surprise. Amusing too was that in all her planning she forgot to mention anything about it to me, especially considering it was at my place. As the week proceeded, I could see more and more how any hope at a surprise was doomed to fail. After all, she was now expecting to show up to a b-day party. So by Thursday or Friday I left her know just how hard it was to plan a surprise party for someone who was so determined to throw a party for herself. Then came her confusion. Why was I trying to throw her a surprise party when I knew she was already having a party for herself at my place that very night? Could be because she failed to mention it to me, though I had heard about it through the grapevine from my planning cohorts. How was I to know she'd seize every opportunity available to celebrate her b-day the whole month long! Needless to say, she was disappointed. She had always wanted a surprise party but her b-day zeal had taken control and spoiled the hope of a surprise this time around.

The element of surprise may have gone up in flames but what arose from the ashes was a mockery party that was surely more fun than a single celebratory occasion could have been. When I told the out of town friend that the surprise was no longer a surprise, she decided that if our friend could declare the evening to be a b-day party for herself, then she (the out of town friend) was just as entitled to declare the evening a Bon Voyage party for herself. After all, it was likely to be the last time we'd get to see her before she leaves for 2 months at sea volunteering aboard the Doulos. The conversation that followed flowed like this:

K: okay, whatever. the surprise b-day party was just a cover. it was really a surprise going away party party for you but now you've gone and blown that

K: just kidding

K: or am I?

K: guess you'll never know now

E: Does this mean Becky's jumping out of a ship-shaped cake for me?

(We had a running joke all week that she'd be jumping out of a birthday cake for our friend)

K: maybe you can both jump out of cakes simultaneously

E: Maybe we could also have a pre-engagement party for Rick and Becky

E: And an anniversary party for Dan and Tiff. (which happened to have fallen in like November or December)

E: How about a welcome back party for you?

K: Well, it was my b-day this week on the lunar calendar, so technically, it should be my birthday party too

K: and it's St. Patrick's Day!

E: We are sooo gonna party like it's 1999!!

I met with another friend the day before the blessed occasion and told her how the surprise was off but the party still on, however, the event was evolving into an opportunity for everyone to celebrate whatever they felt like. Her mission over the next 24 hrs was to conjure what she wished to celebrate.

For the party, the out of town friend and I picked up enough helium balloons to fill the trunk and backseat of her car. Everyone was allowed to decorate them w/ black marker declaring their reason to celebrate the day. We had quite a variety of occasions from the expected birthday and St. Paddy's Day to Last Day of Teaching on a Saturday. In the end, it was a night of enchantment for all. Okay, maybe not quite enchantment, but we sure had fun.

on your mark, get set, stop!

2007-03-23T13:09:00.000+08:00

When I know where I'm headed, most of the time I just want to get there, so it's not unusual that I tend to end up resenting the red lights along the way. My commute to work is an example of this. I follow the same course daily so I've got the synchronization of the traffic lights down to a science, but every now and then, maybe once or twice a month, they are all out of whack. Every light I approach seems to be turning red and the journey not only consists of way more stops than anticipated, but more than I can afford thanks to my tendency to leave just in time for things. The foul up can cost me minutes when I don't have a single to spare.

I observed this afternoon that even when I don't have to be at a destination by a certain time, I still tend to choose my route carefully, bent on maximizing the number of green lights I can get through or minimizing the number of traffic lights altogether. Yeah, I'm just special like that. Despite not being in a hurry to get home for lunch, I found myself feeling slightly miffed to be encountering a red light at a certain busy intersection this afternoon. However, it was then that I came to realize: Every now and then, it can be good to be forced to stop.

In my 80 seconds at the red, I felt like I was forced to stop and look at the world around me. As I did, it seemed like I was seeing an intersection I pass through daily for the first time. In this country, change is the norm. As a friend so eloquently put it, "Taiwan is a busy, busy place. There is always something to do, somewhere to go, something to buy, something to build, something to re-build, something to repair, something to construct..."

I think I've arrived at the place where I'm so used to the constant state of change that I fail to even notice changes. Spring has arrived - that time of the year that symbolizes life, change, and renewal. Yet, in my zipping through life, I fail to perceive the signs around me. At home in the States, Spring tends to enter with a colorful, dramatic flair, but in my part of Taiwan, the change is more delicate and subtle, and with the distractions of life, can easily go unnoticed.

One of the things I noticed during my time-out today were the trees that lined the roadway's median strip. How is it that I've never really noticed them before? At first glance, they appeared hideous. The gawky skeletal trees were almost grotesque with their knobby branches. I'm sure I had some slightly contorted expression on my face upon first spying them. But then, suddenly, I began to notice the vibrant orange flowers they bore, so seemingly out of place against something so harsh. Once I noticed them, I wondered why my eyes weren't immediately drawn to them in the first place? How could I have so easily overlooked something so beautiful and striking? When I took time to look at the whole picture, the tree became beautiful, taking on an almost exotic quality.

Within the noisy, polluted, hustle and bustle of the city, again something seemed out of place. Perhaps it was the contrast of life against all that has been constructed. As I drive around the city or go out for a run, I love seeing such things as vines crawling on walls and flowers growing through pavement cracks and even sewer drains. I like to see the persistence of life as well as the reminders of nature and a creation far greater than anything man can fabricate.

weighing in on filth

2007-03-22T21:59:00.000+08:00

This morning's shower provoking internal monologue found my thoughts tuned to the topic of filth. This was not because my bathroom was filthy, but rather something about being in the shower reminded me of what a friend recently wrote about filth. Basically, her roommate moved out leaving behind a nasty bit of hair in the shower drain resulting in the drain getting clogged after trying to dislodge the mess. Taking care of the crud left behind by someone else concluded in her going to bed feeling gross.

I could relate to her frustration and sympathize with the sentiment of disgust. Once upon a time in a land far, far away I lived in an apartment with 5 roommates. I was the last to leave during our move out week because my employment contract was the last to finish. The place needed to be spotless for move out inspection and let me just say, what a mess 4 of the 5 left behind for me to clean up. I'm so thankful my mom came to town to help me tackle it.

It's interesting how another's filth can in turn make us feel dirty, especially when having to deal with or clean up the mess, whether of a physical or moral nature. Perhaps it is the Lenten season that has brought on the though, but I couldn't help but think of Christ and what it must have been like to take on the sin of the world - the weight of filth and disgust produced by others and the shame housed in bearing something so vile that was not His. The verse in Isaiah about our righteousness being as filthy rags also came to mind. As I think about a few surprise disgusting messes I've had to clean up in the past, it's humbling to imagine that without grace, even the best of what I can do and offer is so much worse than the things I've had to fight the old gag reflex to clean up. Needless to say, for the rest of the day there was much to think about and much to be thankful for.

sugar coated ways

2007-03-21T12:04:00.000+08:00

As I cleaned out my freezer to make way for the confectionery contributions that only a trip home could bestowed up me, I realized just how much candy I've managed to stockpile over the past year. There's last year's Easter candy my mom brought over the summer, Halloween candy, Christmas candy, candy from last year's trip to New Zealand, and now the latest additions: more Christmas candy, Valentine's Day candy, and Easter candy.

Perhaps equally disturbing as the mass quantity of sugar based products I've managed to amass is the realization of how sugar coated many of our holidays have become. Greeting card companies easily take a beating for turning holidays commercial but wow, what a foothold the the candy companies have managed to secure. Certain holidays cannot even be thought of without candy coming to mind.

I wonder what this all says about our culture? Do we delight in seeing how far we can stray from the original intent and meaning of something? I don't know. I mean this all as more of an observation than a complaint, after all, what would Easter be like without a Reese's or Cadbury egg?

water on the brain

2007-03-20T22:00:00.000+08:00

wow, that last post sooo came out longer than i had ever intended. perhaps my thoughts are flowing a bit too freely these days. i've become a leaky faucet!

thoughts flowing like water

2007-03-20T13:31:00.000+08:00

The past 2 weeks have been so busy that I feel like the only time I've had a chance at downtime has been in the shower. Fortunately, as soon as that flowing water hits my head, by brain seems to be awakened and it's become the most productive me-time of the day.

In a little over a month, my co-worker and his wife, both of whom have become friends of mine over the past year, will be departing Taiwan. Every time someone leaves, it seems that those around them can't help but ask the question, "how much longer am I going to stick around?" And so, following along with the natural course of things, that's where a few friends and I have found ourselves lately, re-visiting one of our most frequently asked questions - "how long?"

Adding complication to the contemplation of where life should be heading is the growing frustration with the nonsensical acts and outright stupidity of others encountered on a daily basis with growing frequency. After a certain amount of time, my infinite amount of patience does appear to have a limit after all. One question I've forced myself to consider is, am I becoming more easily frustrated with things because I'm thinking about when to move on and perhaps looking for a reason/excuse to make a decision sooner rather than later or is my frustration/discontentment the real reason I'm revisiting the "how do you know when it really is time to move" question.? At the moment, I'm finding it about as productive as the "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" debate. Am I frustrated and so my thoughts return to leaving or am I thinking about leaving and so I'm finding it easier to be frustrated with life at present?

Irony comes in bucketfuls sometimes. In the midst of all the processing I get an unexpected invitation to exchange this continent for another to teach English in South America. I know how it is that I ended up in Taiwan and I suppose until I have similar inclinations, I won't be so easily tempted to run off to yet another foreign land. The offer did, however, put greater concern on something I was already considering - how much longer do I want to be teaching?

How is it that I managed to stray so far from my major? Furthermore, how is it that five years out of college I've yet to put to use the education for which I'm still paying? Perhaps the most difficult to address though is, do I really ever see myself putting my degree to use?

Teaching is something that as a kid, I thought an appealing profession. After all, what could be more fun than handing out stickers and getting to grade tests and homework? When the time came to actually declare a major, education was far from my considerations. Instead, I landed myself in business. I know why I chose it. It was in part because being halfway through your Jr. year and still carrying the label Undeclared did not sit well with many of the higher-ups at the school. Then came the internship I wanted and the funny rule to get around that in order to participate in an internship you must first have the support of a department, the department in which your major resided. But most of all, I'd like to think that I chose it because once upon a time, I loved it, or at least loved studying it. I loved how logical it all seemed. I loved learning about how things that seem such a natural part of life or work today were actually thought out and implemented by someone. I loved how aspects of work could be broken down into a science, appealing to the part of me that never gave up my childhood love of science.

Despite my enjoyment of it, after 4 years of higher education, what is it that I actually learned to do? What is my contribution to society supposed to be now? What do I actually see myself doing professionally? All the questions only lead to question marks. Some naive part of me must have thought these answers would be magically presented to me with my diploma and so, from the moment I left college, I've felt lost. From then on, I suppose I've allowed myself to feel stuck and second guess decisions.

About a year after graduation, I found myself halfway around the world in Taiwan, where at times I've once again felt stuck. I think I may have mentioned before that in coming to Taiwan, I had originally only intended to come for a year. I thought I'd be giving myself a break until I "figured it all out." I thought perhaps being so far removed from everything familiar and so much of what I loved would really show me who I am and what I want to do. As a result, Taiwan became a waiting room until I figured out where I was really supposed to be and what I was really supposed to be doing instead of considering for one moment that where I was and what I was doing could be part of the answer I was looking for. Nearing the end of my first year no closer to knowing any of the answers I wanted, I realized a few things. First, I didn't want to go back home as clueless as I came. I didn't want to go back without a plan or idea as to what comes next. Second, Taiwan wasn't a waiting room or even a rest stop. Perhaps it's been an exit from the road I thought I was on or should be on, but I've had the privilege of arriving temporarily at a destination that's very much alive and to not be a part of the life I've been give here would be a huge mistake. The reality is, this is life. This is where I am right now. Stop ignoring it. (I sadly still need to be reminded of this from time to time.)

It's ironic that after four years in my foreign home, I find myself no closer to knowing what I want to be doing than I did after four years of college. In light of my soon departing friends inquiring how soon until I rejoin the North American life, I'm forced to revisit the questions and doubts that have come to haunt. I find myself still without the answers I thought I would have arrived at years ago. Wow, look at how far I've come in the past 5 years! Please do not miss the tone of sarcasm for I feel like I'm still lined up at the starting line waiting for the gun to sound and the race to begin. But where there should be a finish line, a destination, a goal in sight, there is nothing. Instead of moving confidently forward with the preparations of my past, I feel a bit more like I've been running in the dark and stubbing my toe against all I feel I should have foreseen.

So what is the cycling of questions worth? Recent frustrations aside, why am I actually intent on the "how much longer" question? I suppose when faced with too many questions that cannot yet be answered, or at least not answered all at once, it would be nice to have the answer to just one or two. Yet part of me knows "how much longer?" is not the real question at hand. While leaving may give the facade of a solution, perhaps instead it's an avoidance of addressing the heart of the matter. I just hope that I reach the heart of the matter before having a heart in the matter doesn't matter anymore.

round here

2007-03-19T13:41:00.000+08:00

Hi folks! A busy last week followed by an even busier (though very fun) weekend has allowed for no time for blogging, but rest assured, there are 8-10 partial posts waiting in the hanger. Perhaps this week will provide a chance to come up for air and find me completing some of the many tasks already set in motion around this joint. Until then . . .

a new spring in my step

2007-03-16T02:28:00.001+08:00

While the vernal equinox may yet be a few days off, as I went to work, I couldn't help but think that today felt like a Spring day. As much as I'd like to think I'm above it, sometimes I really do need to feel things in order to convince myself they're really happening.

Having grown up in a place where 4 seasons display themselves to the fullest, it's difficult to reside where the signs of change are so subtle they're easily missed and eventually, everything runs together and becomes an eternal summer. However, today, for whatever reason, an inkling of change was in the air. As I arrived at work and took one last look at daylight, one last breath of slightly sweeter air, I sighed with the gladness of feeling Spring's arrival.

Don't get me wrong, winter is still my favorite time of the year, but each season holds something worth experiencing and hence something worth missing. And so, I'm guilty of lamenting the things about Spring I was once accustomed to.

I miss:
the signs of life returning
trees no longer skeletal
rabbits and birds once again taking up residence in the yard
rain and dew
perfectly comfortable temperatures
tulips, lillies, daffodils, and lilacs set in bloom
the lengthening days

Each season seems to represent a unique time of change and Spring seems to be a time for awakening, a return to life. There's always been a sweet sorrow wrapped up in the change - letting go of the winter I love to embrace the bustle of uncertainty that envelopes growth. Somewhere in all that transitioning, I seem to find myself. Perhaps it's because I was born when the snow was giving it's last hurrah blanketing flowers pushing their way into life. While the new life wins out as winter melts away for another year, it was nice to be blanketed for a season.

fooled

2007-03-09T13:53:00.000+08:00

Besides catching up on sleep, one of the things that I look forward to when about to be stuck on an aircraft for 15 hrs is catching up on movies. While there were a few I enjoyed enough to pick up a copy of while home, what really gets to me about a lot of movies today is that it's almost certain there's going to be a moment of "trust your heart" or "go with your feelings."

Please! Okay, while I won't say that feelings and emotions don't have a valid role in one' s life, should I trust my heart or emotions as the basis of decision making? Umm, no. In fact, I'm glad to know that I don't have to rely on them and furthermore grateful for the cautions (Jer. 17:9) that they shouldn't be trusted. Why? Because this week my heart would have me to believe I belong elsewhere and perhaps I do, but just as I'm ready to believe it, God shows me evidence to the contrary. And to be perfectly honest, sometimes I don't want the opposing convictions to my feelings yet I'm thankful that I have a God who gave me what I needed over what I wanted today.

When I wonder why I'm here, wherever here happens to be at the moment, God has been faithful and good to provide me the answers, though in small doses. Any greater amount would find me off on my own and not trusting in Him. What I realized today is that when I need these reminders, glimpses, answers, what have you, He hasn't been putting things in my way to stop me and show me I'm wrong to doubt and wonder, but rather, He's been putting things along the way to direct and encourage. It kind of reminds me of the racer handed a cup of much needed water from someone on the sidelines, someone who's there because they're interested, because they care enough to get involved. And like that runner wondering why he ever laced up and decided to run in the first place, the 2nd wind kicks in and with the encouragement of those along the way, confidence and determination are restored.

Today, totally unexpectedly, I was encouraged by someone God put along my way. As I made the trip to work on yet another dreary day with rain suddenly spitting from the sky, there was a parent of two of my students, standing outside her shop in the middle of the day, in the rain, waving to me with a huge smile on her face as I drove by. How she even recognized me with hair and face buried beneath coat and helmet visor, I don't know. Despite feeling invisible beneath my layers, she saw me. The peculiar and perfect timing of her unexpected gesture stirred my thoughts as I finished my commute.

Despite a great night at Bible class two evenings before, despite leaving feeling incredibly encouraged by what the kids learned and remembered from our last lesson though it had been a month since we last met (due to vacation), despite the joy, amazement, and all the good feelings I had so recently experienced, I realized how easily I could still be fooled by my heart and feelings to doubt the good work that God has begun and His purpose for me right here and right now. How could I be so easily tempted to quit the race or pass the baton a leg too soon? How is it in something so simple as a parent's kind smile and enthusiastic wave, God taught me so much about what He wants and expects and has encouraged me so greatly in such a simple gesture? For perhaps the first time, I felt not just part of students' lives but through them a greater community, the loss of which I've felt since my move here. Perhaps it was experiencing that feeling of community once again during my brief visit home, as well as the fellowship of my home church, that had me questioning my place here since my return. Perhaps that sense of community exists beneath the surface waiting for someone to draw it out. Perhaps it has always existed, just waiting for me to recognize it. Despite whatever caused my heart to doubt and my feelings to be led astray, what I do know is this: today was good because God gave me what I needed rather than what I wanted.

stuck on replay

2007-03-07T14:03:00.000+08:00

I've had a song stuck in my head for two days. I haven't minded entirely because it's a song that I know I like, however, I don't know what it is. It's been one of those things where I know that I know it, I just don't know how or why I know it. For two days, at home, in class, on the road, there it is. The tune's been playing over and over again and the lyrics - if I could just remember any of the lyrics, I'd be all set. Then I could at least look it up. Instead, they've been a series of duh-duh-duts. With just the tune and the sound of when the lyrics appear stuck on play in my head, when it boils down to it, I've got nothing more than frustration.

Ahh, but today, success was mine. I finally managed to remember three words and the mystery, solved. The song? The Funeral by Band of Horses. The irony? It's kind of how I've been feeling the past few days. It's funny how the mind works. I think my subconscious made some connection and was trying to bring it to light in my conscious mind only some key pieces, such as the lyrics, got left out.

The mind is a fascinating thing. So much goes on to help us cope with life that we have no idea is even happening unless we catch a glimpse of it manifested. For me, dreams can be an example of this. I seem to rarely dream, or at least rarely have dreams that I remember after waking up. However, every now and then, I'll have a streak where I'm dreaming every night and sometimes there's a connection amongst them. I've learned some really interesting things this way. For the past week I've been having a streak of really bizarre dreams - not good or bad, just odd. Honestly, if there's some link between them, I'm not so sure I'm in a hurry to find out what it is. For now, I'm content to revel in figuring out that song.

In the Grey

2007-03-07T13:41:00.000+08:00

I'm in the place of familiarity and comfort once again - melancholy. Not sure how I landed myself back here but there's a sweet sadness that exists in it. Perhaps it's the result of knowing that good feels all the better after feeling down, kind of like how the morning after a migraine feels amazing.

Today I'm unable to distinguish the morning from afternoon. It's all grey. There's no variation in light. It's a wonder that it's light at all. There's no visible sun, only the thickness of dinge, grime, and disgust.

Today I'm sinking into feeling much like my grey city where I exist just shy of living. Have I become like the sky, knowing it's seen better days but buried under clouds too thick to quite remember what such days were like?

I'm not too far gone to hope. I'm waiting for the gust, the strong wind that blows to clear the air. I'm waiting for the refreshing change, for newness and light exposed.

Perhaps tomorrow the sky and I will again align but resolve to just be blue. Blue would be fine with me and more becoming to us both.

got any needs?

2007-03-06T08:51:00.000+08:00

From what I have observed, the Taiwanese are not known for being self-diagnosing do-it-yourself-ers when it comes to treating aches and ailments. In fact, I know several who go to the doctor for something as simple as a headache because they find it to be cheaper and easier than picking up a pain reliever at a drug store. This in mind, I found myself a bit surprised and disturbed by what I discovered at my neighborhood chain pharmacy on my way home from work this evening.

As I glanced over shelves in the first-aid section, I did a double take at what I found in one particular aisle.

Top shelf: shiny metal instruments, some resembling things you'd see at the dentist office while others looked like things I'd imagine to be on a surgical tray

Second shelf: syringes of all sizes followed by tourniquets and boxes of needle tips

Third shelf: amongst various other things, bags of empty pill capsules in a variety of colors - orange with green, blue with yellow, plain yellow, or for the unadventurous there were clear ones too

Bottom shelf: mysterious bags of powders, perhaps for filling those empty pill capsules

Is this only striking me as a bit odd? I've been to other pharmacies in town, even other ones belonging to this chain, and never have I seen these items elsewhere. I tend to believe that things are stocked because there are those out there who buy such things, however, I'm not sure I want to know who's buying these items. The row of gauze and bandages was quite extensive as well, looking more like the supplies for an EMT rather than for the average person's medicine cabinet.

Please allow me to go a step further and shed some light as to why I really find this discovery disturbing. Once upon a time during my first few months in Taiwan, a former manager and contact wearing co-worker had a conversation about lasik eye surgery in Taiwan. The manager confirmed that Taiwan can be a great place to have it done, being slightly cheaper than the procedure in the U.S. However, he issued a caution: Be sure to choose a place where those performing the procedure are actually trained and licensed to be doing what they are doing. Huh, shouldn't they all be? He then proceeded to clue us in as to how there are those out there who perform lasik eye surgery, plastic surgery, dentistry, and veterinary medicine without former training. Some are just people with a lot of money who can afford the equipment, who have an interest in the profession, and who probably read a few books and manuals and decided to start a business. Yikes! My co-worker, also a pet owner, is certain she's encountered a few "vets" who would fit into this category. And so, while I do believe that too many people run to the doctor for things they could take care of themselves at home, the average person having certain medical supplies so readily available also frightens me a bit.

The Return

2007-02-26T04:05:00.000+08:00

In about an hour, the sun will rise, some pigeons may coo at the window, some roosters may crow from a neighboring rooftop, the city will awake, the day will begin, and I will soon be back to work and back to life as I know it. My happy escape for the past 3 weeks has come to an end.

Despite five trips to and fro, reconciling the double life has not gotten any easier. Both lives are easy to slip back into, almost too easy, as though the other does not exist. Lately, when I'm visiting home, it's the only place in the world I want to be, at least at that moment, perhaps because I know my time there is so limited. Too quickly I find myself back to my own little space in the world. Never is there quite the reminder of being alone as walking through my apartment door to the emptiness and silence within after spending several weeks in the constant company of others. I try to reason in my head that the silence should be peaceful and comforting - a welcomed break from the busyness of the past few weeks, however it's anything but. I supposed it can't feel that way, not yet at least. For now, it's awkward and uncomfortable. In silence is the reminder of all I'm not hearing. In solitude is the reminder of those I'm not with. And in my space, I feel that I am close to nothing.

I opened my luggage releasing stuffed contents and the smell of home. The fragrance of the clean laundry is both sweet and sad. In this moment, how I want to go to sleep breathing in that fragrance and wake to discover the trip back was just a dream. I want to awake and find myself somewhere clean and covered in snow.

Instead, I retreat to my favorite window - the place I go to watch storms brew, the days fade, the city sleep, or the dawn break. This time, I slide open the window and face my world with eyes closed. There's no joy in opening them only to face concrete and glass of the manufactured world that now surrounds me. No stars. No moon. No black sky. No white puffs of breath rising in the night. At least there is cold air - my only comfort in all this. With closed eyes and a cold breeze against my face, I can be anywhere I want. I can feel I'm at home.

last night

2007-02-23T23:45:00.000+08:00

It's my last night at home. I knew from the beginning this day would come and it always arrives faster than expected. Stepping outdoors to see a friend off, I realized I closed the trip the way it began - head cast to the sky delighting in the darkness of night and joyfully exclaiming "Stars!" as though seeing a long lost friend as my words in white breath dissipate and become part of the night. I take it in once more, the crisp, clean, cold mountain air, blankets of white snow in the yard, and the warm glow of light in the windows beckoning me back within the walls of home.

The packing is now complete and only a few hours remain until the early morning farewell. I decided try on my winter coats once more before packing them away in the closet. It's been several years since I've felt the weight of them. I took what I needed from their pockets and left a few tokens of my visit to reminisce over whenever I find myself reunited with them once more.

I bundle in fleece, flannel, and wool for one last night. Part of me longs for one more night of sleep on my comfy bed while the other half of me wants to stay up all night roaming the house, taking it in one more time before I head back. When I woke this morning, I lingered in bed watching the sun dance across the walls, illuminating the room and bringing things back to life. I wanted to soak it in, knowing it would be a few days before my head would again wake on a pillow and that pillow would be thousands of miles away. Perhaps I will give in to sleeping on my bed one more time, if only for an hour or two, but first, I'll visit my window for one last look at the snow, and the woods, and the stars, and the night.

here on this mountaintop

2007-02-12T23:00:00.000+08:00

I'm back on my mountaintop, home of the only place I've seen snow in days.

I took to the road for the weekend heading south to visit friends and relations in Virginia. How I've missed being alone on the open road, surrounded by mountains, flooded with tunes, and thoughts free to roam.

Despite numerous trips to southern VA, this was my first time exploring the VA/D.C. area. I must say, I do prefer the open highway and scenic back roads to the crowded hubbub of beltways, but it's all part of the experience. I managed to find everywhere I needed to go . . . eventually, getting lost only once. I hate getting lost! I hate admitting I don't know how to get somewhere. I hate asking for help. How is it that I can navigate my way though city and countryside with road signs in Chinese yet when I'm back to English, I'm suddenly stupefied?

Nevertheless, the weekend was great. I got to spend time catching up with aunts and cousins I haven't seen in years. I love hearing my aunts' tales of their childhood to get glimpses of what my grandparents and other aunts were like. Though filled with visits, the weekend was on the whole, relaxing. I got to enjoy a bit of time outdoors dog walking with one aunt and checking out the frozen over Potomac with another. And since no trip to the D.C. area could be complete without an actual trip through the District, I was glad to take in an evening drive past the Capitol and a few national monuments. There's just something about the white lights on the old white stone symbols of the nation at night that's cool. Compliments to my driver for the tour.

On the way home, with no agenda awaiting my arrival, it was rather tempting to employ a random exit and get lost in the hills for awhile, but I nixed the notion. Only a few days of my vacation have actually been spent at home so as much as I wished to explore, it was nice getting back somewhere familiar. Back home the winter weather appears to be in full effect. Time to dig out some blades and head to the skate pond.

hit the road jack

2007-02-10T06:54:00.000+08:00

After 3 days at home, the traveling continues this weekend. In a few hours I'm southbound to Virginia to do some visiting. Dawn is just beginning to illuminate the snow on the ground as a few fresh flurries trickle down. What a stark contrast from my island home. The past week has flown by as I've spent much of it on the go, but I've been having an awesome time. I'm looking forward to the time on the road this weekend to think and process it all. The weather might be cold, but the reunions have been warm and on that note, it's time to set out once again.

home frigid home

2007-02-07T15:39:00.000+08:00

I made it - home at last! The adventure began Saturday when I said farewell to a chilly Taiwan (55-75*F) to greet a slightly chillier Idaho (40-58*F). After an interim of at least 17 years, I had the the chance to make family of strangers as I reunited with relatives for a few days in Boise. I had an awesome time hanging out, catching up, and checking out a few sights including a winter carnival my cousin flew me to. I cannot think back on the past few days without a smile spreading across my face. Perhaps I'll have a few tales to share once I get the photos developed.

Yesterday I said good-bye to the sunny skies, rolling hills, and snow-capped peaks of ID for a 16 hr. trip from west to east. By 11:30pm I finally arrived home, my frigid destination, where temps have been below zero for days. Still, I'm home and there's a warmth in just knowing that. And now, the next chapter of hanging out and catching up begins.

West side, East side, I'm going State side

2007-02-02T23:49:00.000+08:00

Only a few more hours to go and I'm outta here. Despite just having been there over the summer, I'll be spending my Chinese New Year vacation time at home, and I must say, I'm rather excited. My first stop will be in the West to visit with some relatives I haven't seen since I was about 10. My cousin will be retrieving me from the airport and since we've both grown up a bit over the past 17 years, my uncle asked if I could email them a recent photo to help my cousin recognize me at the airport. No problem. I intended to get right on it, only my mom found out about the request and beat me in sending a photo. Her choice was this:

Perfect. I'm sure my relatives will have no problem recognizing me at the airport. That's right - I'll be the one with the kayak attached at the hip. In fact, no picture even needed, just look for the kayak - that will be the give away. Needless to say, a better pic has been provided.

won't you be my neighbor

2007-02-02T13:21:00.000+08:00

I have a theory that if you live in this town long enough, you're bound to see the Asian counterpart of just about everyone you know. Today it was Mr. Rogers, and he wasn't too far from my neighborhood. Even his mannerisms and the way he presented himself were spot on. And speaking of Mr. Rogers, in a few days I'll be hanging out at the Pittsburgh Airport for a few hours and I can't help but think of Mr. Rogers whenever I pass through. Perhaps it's the tribute they have to him in one of the corridors.

go fly a kite

2007-01-28T21:01:00.000+08:00

I did not wake this morning, or any morning for that matter, thinking "I should buy a kite today" or pondering how enriched my life would be if only I owned a kite. And yet, there I found myself this evening in the check-out line at Costco with a kite in tow. Confession, I do tend to divert my path past them on each visit to the store to check out the latest assortment because they stock some really nice ones, and while my dad has a cool collection, the sport has never been of much interest to me. However, after spending part of a blustery afternoon driving around some of the city's few remaining green spaces observing the array of colorful sailing kites, I couldn't help but want to be amongst the lot, feet planted yet an extension of myself soaring, delighting in something as simple as the wind. Perhaps it was the rare exposure to fresh air that messed with my thoughts but I'm now the owner of a rather cool kite awaiting assembly. I actually can't wait to give it a try, though waiting I shall indubitably have to do as there isn't likely to time for kite flying until after the holiday. So, if you too are a resident of this fair city and ever find yourself with the overwhelming urge to go fly a kite, just let me know. I'm sure I'll need to be held accountable to actually using it, but I think it could be fun.

paper hearts are easily cut

2007-01-26T23:49:00.000+08:00

The four years I have spent in Taiwan have seen the increasing popularity of Western holidays. On Christmas weekend I already observed heart shaped boxes of chocolates on display at a local supermarket. This week it was heart shaped Doritos appearing next to the left over Christmas tree shaped ones at the corner 7-Eleven. Guess everyone is seeking their niche in the upcoming commercial holiday, however, the homemade apparently still holds a place. Today, courage was mustered and an opportunity seized as I was presented with a heart by a fella I won't be seeing for a month. In the last seconds of class I was approached and sheepishly bestowed with a paper heart. Ha - kids are so funny sometimes!

chasing after the wind

2007-01-26T13:00:00.000+08:00

I've recently been borrowing and working my way through a few seasons of Seinfeld. In one particular episode, 3 of the friends sit at a diner table eating and contemplating what it is they should be doing with their life at that very moment rather than what they're actually doing. I must say I've wondered the same, especially recently. And thus, the series promoted as the show about nothing got me thinking about the growing nothingness that seems to be filling my days between the hours of waking and sleeping. While there is never a lack of busyness, is there an increasing lack of substance? Is my recent relative contentment with life a sign of acceptance or resignation? Have I been without stimulation and challenge so long that I'm starting to regard the absence of such as relaxation instead of stagnation?

It's true that life lately seems to have reached a certain state of balance. My general contentment with where I am and the current state of things distracts me from future planning. So again I'm at odds with myself debating and contemplating the root to what appears as a lack of motivation. Is that really it? Is the drive gone or have I been simply finding simple joy, seizing it, allowing it to sustain me, and observing a shift in how I approach life because of it? Work last week brought this new idea into light.

Lately, I've found that I've been enjoying my job, or at least moments of it, and it almost makes me sad. I've been glad for the opportunity to be teaching because I feel it's likely to be very different from whatever I find myself doing next and as such, I consider this time in my life a gift to be doing what I'm doing right now, even though it feels like I'm not doing much at all.
Last week I spent a sunny yet chilly blue skied morning at the park hanging out with some of my school's youngest tots. Somewhere in the midst of chasing kids up twisty slides, having imaginary races on rocking zebras, playing monkey-in-the-middle, and marveling at the fast retracting leaves of the touch-me-not's we'd batted, I suffered one of those simple joy moments where I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, as silly and meaningless as it was, and I found myself filled with joy.

I've been experiencing a new found joy in my close friendships as well. The joy has not been found in what we do but simply in being together. I can, at times, get so caught up in activities or being productive that it's somewhat of a new thing for me to spend time with someone that I know wasn't wasted despite not doing much of anything. It's just hanging out - perhaps some are chatting, reading, napping, playing piano or computer games, grading papers - whatever, but it's choosing to do something I'd normally do alone in the company of others. Just being there with friends oddly matters though no perceived meaning in it can be found. It would appear that I've gotten around to installing some windows and doors in my walls that can be opened from time to time letting the outside in and I've found joy in not only making myself reachable to close friends by in reaching out to them.

And so I wonder, is meaning overrated? Do we wear ourselves out trying to justify our decisions by attaching meaning to what we do so we don't feel our life has been a waste by the end of the day? At house church, we welcomed the new year with an impromptu reading of mine and Rick's favorite book, Ecclesiastes. Nothing like chapter after chapter of meaninglessness and chasing after the wind to fill one with hope for the new year, yet I can't help but love Ecclesiastes, as defeated and solemn as it leaves me.

It is encouraging that detached from seeking meaning, one can still experience joy, a joy that cannot be found by seeking but obeying. Yet, there's aways the wrestling between what is, what's wished for, and what's expected. Heavy is the heart that doesn't want what others want for me, that realizes it doesn't want the things it once used to, that knows choosing one thing inevitably means giving up another. Despite age and experience, the choosing doesn't seem to necessarily get any easier. Through the years, a friend has, with impeccable timing, given sage advice providing exactly what I need to hear in the moments I need it most. He once passed along this advice:

As young Christians, discernment is largely about deciding between what is right and what is wrong. But as you mature as a Christian, the decisions we face deal more and more with choosing between what is good and what is best.

And that is where I seem to get stuck, in discerning between what's good and what's best. There has definitely been a shift in the way I approach/view/handle things over the past few months. I'm curious as to whether my increased encounters with experiencing unexpected joy are the result of choosing something better or rather, am I so infinitely off the mark that even something that's merely good strikes me as much better than it actually is.

Time and travel have a way of changing things. With the upcoming Chinese New Year holiday, I'm about to spend some time away. I realize that I'm unlikely to feel the same way about things when I return so perhaps God is simply granting me the moments of joy I need to have right now so that returning is something I'll still want to do. I don't know.

the golden life

2007-01-13T12:44:00.000+08:00

On occasion, my hearing just isn't what it should be. I miss words and parts of conversations intended for my audience. No worries though, my mind quickly springs into action, filling in the blanks with what it thought it heard, which is usually something wacky and not at all like what was said. At work, such occurrences provide the occasional amusement and entertainment for students. Not only is the challenge before me to understand what students are saying though accents, poor grammar, and limited vocabulary (at least in the earlier stages of learning a foriegn language) but a number of kids are just so quiet in their responses that my mouth quickly blurts back some ridiculous sentence that it sounded like they were saying when indeed, I know they were not. Such a response is primarily for the sake of comedy but has helped a few times in lightening situations and drawing kids out of their shells.

With adults and peers, however, things can be a bit more tricky. For some reason, in these situations my natural reaction is to try to fake that I've heard and understood all that has been said, and typically a few seconds or minutes later, my brain catches up and pieces together what was actually said or asked. And then . . . there are those rare times when it doesn't. Times when my foolish ears, even after much repeating, can't properly hear or make sense of what is being said. Such is the case with "The Golden Life."

Once upon a time in a country far, far away, I grew up spending a week of my summer vacations attending or assisting my church's vbs program. At that point in time, my church offered classes for youth through Jr. high age and it was in such a class, full of friends and peers, that I was forced to face the fact that somewhere between my ears and brain I couldn't comprehend what was being said.

I recall that some other obligation prevented me from attending on Monday, the first day of the program. On Tuesday, I was there and glad to be spending some extra time during summer break with my out-of-town friends. The youth pastor was in charge of us older lot and probably after playing a game or doing some sort of fun activity, we had gathered, seated in a circle for the lesson. Whether things began this way or eased into it, I'm not sure, but at some point the youth pastor asked for everyone to share their goal in life. Simple, right? Except for what I heard was that we were asked to share our golden life. What the heck was a golden life? Ok, I know I missed the first day, but could I be out of the loop that fast?? Going around the circle, it looked as though I'd be one of the last to answer - whew! Surely I'd catch on by my turn.

Sadly, sadly, no. When the responses reached mid-circle, I could feel the panic beginning to settle in. I was already the out-of-town kid at that church, I certainly didn't want to stand out any more or look like an idiot, but I still had no idea what was expected of me. Without drawing attention, I tried to extract an answer from my friends sitting nearest me. Golden life, golden life! - it's all I heard! Finally, it got to be my turn and I gave in. I could no longer carry on the charade - I didn't have a clue what was going on, even after sitting through about 15 teens sharing their goals in life! What is this golden life? What if I don't have one? What if I don't want one? Oh, the pressure! I'm sorry but I wasn't here yesterday! Who knew vbs could be so hard?

It didn't help that people's answers ranged from the serious - to become a dr., to the humorous - to meet an albino person. I had to cave and ask for an explanation of this mysterious golden life. I must say, even after knowing I was to share one for my goals in life, my panic did not quickly subside. I don't know why but I've never really been one to set many goals, at least not in the conscience sense of formulating them and verbalizing them, though there are certainly things I would like to achieve and accomplish in life. And so, I needed to be skipped and given even more time to think. What I came up with was traveling. I'm pleased to say it's a goal I've been meeting which places me in the same success circle as the gal who went on to become a dr. and the friend who finally got to see her albino.

After my first trip abroad a summer or two later, my goal to travel evolved and expanded into a goal to also one day fill my passport and need more pages added. This very week, I have at long last seen that goal come into fruition. I know it's silly, but sometimes silly is all I've got or at least what I need the most in a life that's already so full of the serious. And so, I've met my goals from Jr. high. Life would seem complete. I can now die a happy woman. Or, I suppose I could always set a few new goals. A new golden life? Here comes that panic rising.

soundtrack to my life story

2007-01-09T14:27:00.000+08:00

(a.k.a. filling the lull)

the basics for the unfamiliar:
1. put your music player on shuffle and hit play
2. press forward for each question
3. use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn't make sense

opening credits:
sunday morning - no doubt

waking up:
oceanside - the decemberists

first day at school:
lost - pricilla ahn

falling in love:
welcome to the black parade - my chemical romance

breaking up:
like paper cuts - mew

prom:
photobooth - deathcab for cutie

life's okay:
postcards from italy - beirut

mental breakdown:
hands open - snow patrol

driving:
nobody knows me at all - the weepies

flashback:
hello - schuyler fisk

getting back together:
disillusion - badly drawn boy

wedding:
pandamoranda - lovedrug

birth of child:
a smile that explodes - joseph arthur

final battle:
glittering cloud - imogen heap

death scene:
may i have this dance - copeland

funeral song:
kissing the lipless - the shins

end credits:
come on! feel the illinoise! - sufjan

Wishing You Peace in the New Year

2007-01-02T14:28:00.000+08:00

Take a hike

2007-01-02T13:54:00.000+08:00

Despite late night celebrations, several friends and I decided to start off the new year with a hike. Outdoors yet within the city, we set our sights on a seaside hiking destination that requires a bit of climbing in spots. We managed to rise above the city smog to find a blue sky.

(mt. view of Kaohsiung harbour)

While the city does boast a mountain appropriately nicknamed Monkey Mountain, we were surprised to be joined by several primates previously unseen along this particular hike. They were for the most part non-pesky, though not at all fazed by our presence.

(Formosan Rock Macaques)

The reward for the tiring hike lies at the top in the form of a giant banyan tree with great extending branches just right for climbing and playing, and naturally, that's what we did. Visits to the tree usually find me dreaming of the possibilities for a Swiss Family Robinson style tree house of my very own. Until that day, I'll be resting my head in a bed in a tower of concrete.

it's all fun and games til Peter and Jane go up in flames

2007-01-01T23:04:00.000+08:00

Okay, so it's still fun then too.

To welcome the New Year, a friend hosted her second annual New Year's Eve chili eating, game playing, effigy burning bash. This year's crowd was a bit different from the previous year but still an entertaining mix of Americans, Canadians, Brits, South Africans, a Taiwanese, a few dogs, and a kitten too.

As part of our tradition installed at last year's gathering, we had a midnight effigy burning at the park. This custom originates from the childhood traditions of our Ecuadorian-born American in the group. Though a far cry from the explosives stuffed figures that dominate the streets of Ecuador New Year's Eve, our own special creations manage to raise curiosity and a few eyebrows.

It's customary for the effigy to represent a person or symbol of the old year, especially one you'd happily leave behind. Political figures are often used but we decided to shy away from the ample number of candidates in that circle. Instead, we decided to improve upon last year's generic man in a poncho by selecting not one but two figures near, yet not so dear, to several of us - Peter and Jane. Most of us in attendance teach from Peter and Jane books daily, the British equivalent of Dick and Jane readers. What a fitting symbol of something we'd like to leave in the old year. Jane was my handiwork, while Peter was the result of a collaboration by Becky and Rick. Here are a few pics from the evening's festivities.

thoughts I should not have to entertain on a Saturday morning

2006-12-30T09:04:00.000+08:00

sometimes not all the world shares your joy
sometimes happiness should be kept to yourself
sometimes you should not hire a brass emsemble to play fanfare at 8am to alert the neighborhood you're getting married today
sometimes you should request Here Comes the Bride not be followed by Jingle Bells
sometimes the fanfare should not be followed by 8:30am firecrackers that once again set off the car alarm that had been blaring from midnight until 4am
sometimes others would like to sleep
sometimes i consider not living in a city
sometimes is a day like today

While You Were Sleeping

2006-12-27T00:12:00.001+08:00

I had a great Christmas this year, quite possibly my favorite out of ones spent in Taiwan. Christmas Eve several friends joined me at my place for movie watching and goodie consumption. Everyone stayed the night and we had brunch and gift opening in the morning. We were all up very late but my bedtime looked something like 7am Christmas Day as I was up after everyone else to wrap gifts. It was okay though - I got to take in a Christmas movie while wrapping near the warm glow of the Christmas tree.

I was anticipating a bit more than 2 hours of sleep before the Christmas morning activities got underway, but that's about all the more I was allowed, as one guest, whom I shall name E, snuck into my room and began to blast Christmas music on my computer somewhere around 9am. Becky, who was camping out in my room, promptly turned down the blast, but not long after the volume found its way up again.

I was up and off to the kitchen to get brunch rolling. Rick got his mom's recipe for homemade cinnamon rolls and I was assisting with the experiment. Despite getting the dough made the night before, the rolls weren't actually ready to eat until somewhere around 2 or 3pm, but still yummy and we had fun making them. While in the kitchen, E declares "I got a new Christmas cd!" referring to the one still being played in my room. Yes, we can all hear, thanks. Hmm, I hope it's not the same as the one I got her for Christmas. Afterwards I walked into the living room and discovered the open wrap from one of my gifts to E. No, it wasn't the same as the cd I planned to give her - it was the cd I was giving her!

Me: "You opened your gift?! Without us?"
E: "Yes! I've been awake since about 6:30am. I can't wait all day for you guys to wake up!"
Me: "But I just went to bed then. You robbed me the joy of getting to see you open your gift. Just wait and see if you get anything from me next year. I want my Christmas back!"

This was all in playful fun, I assure you. However, I'd soon discover that opening gifts was not the only thing she did while we were sleeping. She also snuck in my room and took a picture! Ahh! Man, I need to be more selective in choosing my friends from now on. After a visit to her place 2 weeks ago and the ever so flattering pictures of friends and I that surfaced afterwards, I should have known better than to sleep with my door unlocked! Silly me. Must have been a sleep deprived lapse in judgement. The photos have not yet appeared on her flickr account, but I'm assured they will. Nice.

I'll be home for Christmas

2006-12-26T13:11:00.000+08:00

This year I got to go home for Christmas, in a manner of speaking. Thanks to the wonderful world of modern technology, my family and I linked via webcams and speaker phones so I could join them for gift opening on Christmas morning. It was great to feel part of Christmas with my family, if only in a small way.

I got to witness dad playing with the new kayaking paddle my bros and I got him. I was beginning to think the recliner in serious jeopardy of being rowed away. Then there was Ross's dog frolicking through the gift wrap and trying to intercept presents being passed. It is usually restricted to the basement but was getting time off for good behavior. I was excited to see my mom open her gift from me - an ipod shuffle, which was followed by looks of bewilderment and comments of "neat - but what is it?" She was fascinated by its petite form, as was my gram later in the morning. Last but not least was my youngest bro who was content to stay out of sight except for modeling new clothes he had received.

Our time together was a nice distraction from that fact that I sat thousands of miles away where Christmas day was drawing to a close and the promise of work in the morning loomed. All in all, a great holiday was had - a house filled with friends plus a visit home. It was nice while it lasted.

Wind Shadow

2006-12-23T23:58:00.000+08:00

Taking a break from the hustle and bustle, I got to do one of my favorite things there is to do in Taiwan - see a performance by my favorite contemporary dance company, Cloud Gate. The group, which is based in Taipei, only comes to town about twice a year. Tonight's show was part of the World Premiere season of Wind Shadow, the latest creation of choreographic genius Lin Hwai-Min. As with past performances, it did not disappoint.

Cloud Gate Dance Theater is not your typical dance group. Dancers are trained in not only ballet but tai chi, martial arts, Chinese Opera movement, and modern dance. These arts and disciplines are masterfully intertwined to create a spectacular show.

Wind Shadow, the latest creation, was a collaboration of Cloud Gate choreographer Lin Hwai Min and contemporary artist Cai Guo-Qiang. In addition to his work with Cloud Gate, Lin has an incredible amount of artistic achievements to his credits. Cai had even asked Lin to join his creative team for the proposal of the opening and closing ceremonies of the 2008 Olympic Games, but stating an already full schedule, he declined. However, from a mutual interest to work together on a project, Wind Shadow was born.

Cloud Gate tours internationally so if you ever find them coming to a city near you, I strongly urge you to check them out. They're amazing!

the day

2006-12-23T23:55:00.000+08:00

Today was a beautiful day. Sun streamed golden through a cloudless sky as I traveled from lesson to lesson this morning. Oh, the wonderful combination of warm sun and cool air that delights and bewilders the senses.

Today was a busy day. Teaching followed by more teaching, and then the ballet - all very rewarding in their own way. A few intermittent errands led me to a chance finding of an excellent gift and I found myself getting excited for Christmas morning for the first time all season.

Today was a good day. My first breaths in the warm sunshine made me happy to be alive and content in being exactly where I was. Between waking and sleeping, the day was filled with simple joys and pleasant things. The day closed well - dinner with a close friend and an endless stream of good conversation.

the race is on

2006-12-23T12:55:00.000+08:00

I'm blitzing again. I have several posts that I began but never got back to finish, which is not only characteristic of my blogging this week but most other things as well. An invasion of the body snatchers must have taken place because I'm really not myself this holiday season. I'm incredibly far behind in just about everything and my closest friends are delighting in the fact that for once, they're the ones on top of things. The real me would most likely be freaking out right about now knowing how much there is to get done this late in the game, yet I'm oddly blithe about it all.
Included in my bountiful package of goodies from home was a multi-disc set of Christmas tunes, Sufjan style. They've since been on constant rotation in the cd player in an effort to get me in the holiday frame of mind. I'm about a month behind in getting into the Christmas swing of things. Never before have I found myself without the tree up, some cards sent, gifts mostly purchased, or some cookies baked within so few days of Christmas. It's getting down to the wire, and yet I'm strangely indifferent to it all this year. Is the artificialness of Christmas in Taiwan finally getting to me on this, my 5th Christmas on the island? I'm hoping it's nothing more than part of the rut I've found myself in lately and I hope to find myself emerging soon while there's still Christmas spirit left to catch.

the moral dilemma surrounding eggnog

2006-12-22T10:00:00.000+08:00

Sometimes I think my ability to make eggnog is what keeps me employed, or at least keeps me in the good graces of my boss. A few Christmases ago he discovered the concoction I supplied for a co-worker's Christmas party and it has been his request for Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthdays, Halloweens, and BBQs since. I, however, only provide it as a gift twice a year and as it is once again Christmas, it's once time to whip up a batch. Since I'll be seeing my boss several times over the holiday weekend, I inquired as to when he'd like to recieve it and this was the text message response I got:

if i get it today (Friday) and finish it, can I have more on sat. and mon.? otherwise, i'll wait for sat., but if i share, will i get more? moral dilemma!

So there you have it, the moral dilemma surrounding eggnog. I would think it to at least be to spike or not to spike, but apparently it's to share or not to share. Oh, what some will do for eggnog!

mystery shopping

2006-12-21T13:45:00.000+08:00

In the absence of your native language, sometimes the simplest tasks become the most difficult. A quick trip to the baking supply store to pick up a few cookie making essentials required a bit more guesswork than I'd otherwise like to put into food buying. Despite the store's plethora of imported goods, a number of the more basic essentials are packaged in clear bags or white boxes and containers with labels printed in only Chinese. On one or two prior occasions, I could have been spotted trying to feel the difference between cornstarch and cream of tartar through their plastic packaging. Some labels contain chemical formulas for their contents, which have proved surprisingly helpful. Who said chemistry wouldn't be useful in everyday life?

Today, however, I had to dabble in a bit of mystery shopping. All I needed was shortening and the store used to sell containers of imported stuff, but they were gone. Instead were clear tubs, white tubs, and double lined bags resembling what I was there for. The stuff in the white container was a far better deal, but do I trust what I cannot see? Short on time, I did not want to make another trip to the store and decided it would come down to the tub or bag. The packages had a few similar characters so I at least knew they had something in common, though their differences I was less sure of. I decided that when in doubt, buy both and call mom. What we deducted was that the tub was lard - ha ha - tub of lard. Sorry, I find myself easily amused today. The other item was vegetable shortening. So, the guesswork paid off and I'll be stocked for baking needs well into the new year and perhaps beyond.

brown mixture and belly dancing

2006-12-21T11:44:00.000+08:00

What a full day it's been already and it's not even time for work yet. The day started far earlier that I would have liked with a dr. appointment across town. I've been having problems with my tonsils for over a month and after several visits to the local family dr., I finally decided to simply go see a specialist. I say simply because it is actually fairly easy to get seen by a specialist here. Most can be visited without a referral and for many of them, one can just show up and get seen or make an appointment for the same day. Additionally, an average visit costs about the same as a visit to the family doc, which is fairly cheap with the national health care.

The visit went well, probably the most pleasant of any dr. visit in Taiwan thus far, though the problem doesn't sound like it's one that can be resolved shy of having my tonsils removed. Nonetheless, I left with a prescription of at least 6 pills. Load 'em up and send 'em out seems to be an all too often approach to medicine here, though I actually do have confidence in the ability of the dr. I have just seen. The practice of medicine in Taiwan has been one of the more difficult areas of life in Taiwan for me to get used to and figure out, but I'm sure it would be likely to be that way just about anywhere abroad. Still, there are times when I can't help but get the feeling like the medical practice here really is people "practicing" medicine on me, as in trial-and-error guinea pig testing. With time and experience, I've come to lose confidence in Taiwanese doctors, though again, I think the dr. I saw today was one of those rare gems.

As he explained my daily diet of meds for the next week, there appeared on the list the mysterious and elusive brown mixture. I have heard of this "brown mixture" and even seen the thick, syrupy concoction prescribed to an old roommate or two. I suppose after a few years here, one is bound to be the recipient of it. It's something like a Robitussin, but I'm easily amused by how funny it sounds - brown mixture. I was fortunate to receive it in tablet form but the unpleasant taste still has a way of sneaking in.

Since I was out of the doctor's before 9am I decided to complete a few errands and even get in a bit of last minute Christmas shopping done before work. What an unusual and enlightening experience shopping can be sometimes. I can now say that should I find myself in the position of being asked where one might find a belly dancing outfit in town, I can provide an answer - a good thing to keep in mind should you ever find yourself visiting southern Taiwan without yours.

Christmas comes with a song and a dance

2006-12-20T23:26:00.000+08:00

The weeks leading up to Christmas have become a time for us to teach and coerce our students to sing Christmas songs. Not only is singing required but dancing as well. In fact, I'm starting to notice that we don't teach our students a single song that isn't in some way choreographed, the doings of my boss. And so, each year the Christmas season arrives at my school with a song and a dance. The older students are counting the days til Dec. 26, but the younger kids are usually excited or at least amused by the sight of the teachers acting a fool.

This year the teachers at my school are actually catching a break from the holiday madness that generally surrounds this time of year. Last year my school's Christmas party was a big to-do open to the public and featuring a musical performed by our Bible class students and performances by a group from Taipei. This year, however, we're holding a low-key food centered celebration that will include turkey. The downside - it's being held on Christmas because it's just another school/work day in Taiwan. Though I did manage to get the day off of work, I plan to drop by for the party to hang out with my students. Yes, a bit sad, I know. I'm not married to my job, really.

Also this Christmas my co-workers and I have been relinquished from our duty of performing a Christmas show at an area elementary school. This has been done for the past several years as a ministry outreach that many parents and educators view as free English exposure. Last year our Christmas song and dance routines, as well as a puppet show, were performed for nearly 2,000 kids in a chilly school courtyard over the course of several mornings. I think by the end I was the only one with any amount of voice left (due to performing in the cold and being sick) and therefore got stuck doing the voices for about 4 different puppets. Boy did things get a little interesting trying to keep character voices and accents straight, as well as the confusion of holding conversations with myself. Thankfully I still had only one puppet to man.

A Christmas memory from that event that I had totally forgotten about until a reminder today was the dvd that was made and distributed to the school's classes. This was done to familiarize students with the songs (and dancing - can't forget the dancing) prior to our visit. It was so funny to be recognized from the dvds and thus greeted by students with expressions of "hey, I know you." We were instant celebrities further immortalized by several photos that were taken. Following the shows we had some time to interact with the kids and a friend's photo was taken while using her monkey puppet to talk to students. The photo has been used on the cover of that elementary school's student communication books for the past 2 semesters.

In other song and dance news, a Taiwanese co-worker roped me into a bit of early morning tap dancing last week. I danced for several years as a child but not since. It was a fun workout. She taught me the steps to a Christmas number for a show she's in this season. Following our morning session she came up with the brilliant idea that we should perform a number together next year if the school returns to its annual Christmas shows. Umm, no. I tried to distract her from the idea, but apparently my efforts were in vein. When I went to work later that day, one of my older students told me she couldn't wait for next Christmas to see said co-worker and me performing a dance show. Oh, brother! Now pondering if I should resolve to move before next Christmas rolls around.

good n' plenty

2006-12-20T23:25:00.000+08:00

Good things come in small packages, but sometimes they come in great big ones too! I got a long awaited package from home today. It was chock-full of good stuff, so much so that after 2 hours of sorting and reveling, I still haven't explored all its contents.
The story starts about 5 months ago when I was home on summer break. I packed a box of stuff that wouldn't fit in the suitcases to get shipped at a later time. Included were several Christmas gifts for people here. Over the months the box got opened and repacked several times by the folks at home and more stuff added, including Christmas gifts for me - woohoo! In addition to the items I packed were tons of unexpected goodies. Receiving the box felt like Christmas, oh wait, it almost is.
Favorites among the anticipated goodies include, but are not limited to: a slew of new cds to obsess over including some Sufjan Christmas tunes - oh yeah, cold weather gear - new fleeces and very cool legwarmers I might add, developed photos from a roll I left behind - what a treat- I had forgotten about most of the pics taken, a can opener that actually works - how I've longed for thee, and some new games and books - Canasta anyone? Topping the cool surprises: creme de methe baking chips, Peppermint Patties, dad's homemade jerky, and of course, gifts waiting to be open (some of them anyway).
Well, time to go bask once more in the goodness of it all, or at least put some of it away so I can get out the door for work in the morning.

the weekend to do:

2006-12-16T23:29:00.000+08:00

weekend lessons: taught

winter clothes: unpacked and put to use - winter coat now essential for scooter driving - hat, gloves, scarf, and well - a car, wouldn't hurt either

dinner out: old favorite, new location. old roommate, new conversation. good times ensued.

gifts: a few given, a few purchased, a few sorted, and a few planned

finish holiday shopping: why do today what I can put off until tomorrow? - not necessarily words to live by

Christmas cards: now mistaken for living room floor tiles - must write and send

set up new printer: still packed ever so nice and neatly in unopened box since wednesday

home improvement tasks: weather stripping - bought awaiting installation; marry someone tall who likes to change light bulbs and in the meantime bring in ladder

water plants: does today's rain count? another reminder as to why I should not get a pet

make dish for Christmas potluck: sweet potatoes a roastin'

obsess over some new tunes: underway

decorate: tree box moved from cabinet to floor. baby steps.

clean house: looking more and more like a task for next week

clean room!!!: can a mess a year in the making be done away with in one weekend?

bake cookies: supplies replenished awaiting time/motivation

buy something festive for the season: poinsettia acquired

blog: done

an evening under the stars

2006-12-14T10:43:00.000+08:00

I just got perhaps the coolest birthday party invite - cool because the party will consist of several of my favorite things: countryside, cool, fresh air, and stargazing. To celebrate his birthday, a friend has proposed the following opportunity to gather with friends. Leaving behind city lights (and hopefully clouds and pollution) we'll take an evening ride to a spot where we hope to observe a meteor shower expected to occur this evening. It has been too many winters since I've seen a meteor shower so I hope this evening's event does not disappoint. However, I suppose even if we do not get to see the stars fall from the heavens, the evening will still be worth it to take a break from the weekly routine and spend a evening with friends roaming the countryside.

beating them off with a stick . . . of bread

2006-12-14T08:41:00.000+08:00

During a recent conversation, I enlightened my boss as to my tendency to acquire a park stalker, leading to the need to change jogging locations. The occurrences have been more annoying than menacing, though I think there may have been some scooter tampering once. My current location has been great - I've been jogging there happily for nearly a year. My boss found this all rather amusing and I think is now biding the time until the day I have an unwanted follower at my current spot.

Last night he was helping me give out the snack after the children's bible class that I run. During my quick trip to the store I also picked up one or two items for myself that remained in the bag with the snacks. Reaching in, my boss pulled out a bag of bread and the conversation flowed something like this:

B: I'm guessing these aren't for the kids.
Me: Nope, mine.
B: That's some serious bread. Oh, it's protection, right?
Me: Huh?
B: For running.
Me: What?
B: For the stalkers. Do you throw pieces at them or just swing the whole bag?
Me: Um, no. What are you talking about?
B: The bread! What do you use it for? That's serious bread!
Me: Eating?
B: You can eat that stuff?
Me: Um, yeah . . . for breakfast.
B: Bread that dense I though could only be used as a weapon.

Perhaps the funniest/strangest thing about the conversation is that my boss was completely serious throughout. And now, said bread, which apparently can not only be eaten but used to ward off attackers.

marking the day

2006-12-11T23:59:00.000+08:00

Today is the day in my family's house known as the day I broke my mother's heart. It's otherwise known as my Taiwan anniversary. Today marks 4 years in Formosa and true to tradition, I again find myself wondering "What was I thinking?" Will there be a 5th? At this moment, I can safely say, only time will tell.

In other celebratory news, I recently received a box of cakes to commemorate the one month birthday of my boss's son. In Taiwan, several occasions are marked by gifts being given to friends and family - not just to the one with something to celebrate. For example, when a couple gets engaged, boxes of cookies are given out to relatives, friends, and acquaintances. For the one month birthday of a child, cakes are given. It's an interesting contrast from Western traditions.

misery welcomes company

2006-12-11T23:49:00.000+08:00

I'm actually not miserable, not at the moment anyway. I had a fantastic weekend away with several friends. We ushered in the holiday season by attending a madrigal dinner - the second I've been to during my years in Taiwan. It's the closest my season comes to feeling like Christmas at home. For a few hours, I was not in Asia but a Renaissance castle with festive decor, song and show, and food, making this time of year a bit more merry.

The misery came into play later in the evening. No, I'm not talking about having to see Patrick Swayne's appearances in Havana Nights, though that was part of our post-madrigal evening. As the Christmas dinner took place in another city, some friends and I planned to spend the weekend at our friend's home in town. I shared a room with one of my old roommates and we were perhaps perfect company for one another. Between my random upright bolting coughing fits and her random attacks of vomiting, we were up about every hour or hour-and-a-half throughout the night. I think as much as we hated that someone else had to suffer through the presence of us sick, it was nice having someone there - someone to hand you a tissue or fetch a glass of water. Also, I'm sure the others were certainly glad they didn't get stuck sharing a room with either of us for the night. It was not the anticipated restful night that ensues when provided with a warm, comfy bed but it was not entirely awful either.

Sunday morning found us a little worn but still glad to be retreating at a friend's and out of our smog buried city. We rounded out the trip with a visit to McCafe before heading home. McCafe is a coffee shop/eatery within McDonald's. I was first exposed to one in New Zealand and let's just say, when the commercial came on, I thought it was a joke. But their existence has proved real in several countries I've been to this year, though I haven't heard of any in the States yet. The coffee drinks are decent and the food of a healthy variety, at least compared to the traditional McD's fare. It's just weird to be sitting in a McCafe within a McDonald's, a place I otherwise avoid.

you know it's been too long since you last cleaned your room when . . .

2006-12-11T04:49:00.000+08:00

you find an unopened Christmas card from last year

you find an old job application and some old college catalogs - how these came to find me in this foreign land, i've yet to recall

you find manuals for things you no longer own

you find a prescription issued 2 months - i searched for weeks! every time i'm gone for a weekend, things seem to magically re-appear - it's those dang elves

you find about $100 between envelopes from various occasions - sometimes it pays to clean

you find expired gift certificates you didn't know you had

you find lost addresses and phone numbers of people who have since moved several more times

well, this has been a real fun evening, but i think it's time to call it a night. be sure to tune in tomorrow when I go exploring in the deep, dark realm known as the back of the fridge to uncover things not intended to be long forgotten.

the ghost of one who knew me

2006-12-08T03:00:00.000+08:00

to forget people
to not know them
to not know myself

to lose my freedom, my independence, my identity

When I was young, very young, and naive, very naive, I believed it would be so cool to live to be 100. I have long since changed my stance on aging. So much so that for awhile I've even had trouble picturing and planning for the future because perhaps I've secretly thought I'd not have a long one to face. I don't think I've ever known someone who died of old age. There always seems to be a tragedy waiting long before that time can arrive and I suppose I hold no great hope that my life should be any different.

I've seen people, people I've known slip from the strong, determined, opinionated, giving, caring person they were to a frail, weakened ghost of the person they had been. While it can have many names and faces, I've seen it most in the form of cancer. As I've mentioned previously, I've grown up loosing people I was close to and have come to accept and expect it as part of life. What I'm beginning to learn now is the pain of being with someone alive and yet dead to me.

While not biologically my real grandma, there is someone who is for all intents and purposes, my gram. She's someone who has known me since I was a few months old and has been a big part of my life ever since. She babysat me a lot when I was little and I loved it! I loved her. There was a time once when my dad was napping and I was probably bored so I called her and told her I was home alone (at like age 4 or 5) and she, in her late 70's, walked a mile uphill to our house to look after me, only to discover my dad had been there all along and yet, I don't think she minded. It was something we still joked about until a year or two ago.

She's been around for the milestones in life - birthdays, graduations, holidays - particularly Christmas. Perhaps that's why I'm missing her and who she was so much right now. I hardly have a Christmas memory that doesn't include her. It became a long standing tradition that she would sleep over Christmas Eve and be there with us Christmas morning to unwrap gifts in pajamas and snack on holiday goodies. She'd usually leave at meal time to join relatives but always returned in the evening to spend more time with us. We have family we're given and family we choose and it's nice to feel chosen. We also have a post-Christmas breakfast tradition that I think began because of her, starting small with one or two of us kids and eventually growing to include our whole family. Yeah, I miss her. I miss who she was - who she has been to me and to my family.

I now find myself mucking about in uncharted territory. It's uncomfortable and I'm squirming. You see, things have changed. If I have had any doubts, they were quickly laid to rest during my visit home this year. She knew I was coming home for a visit and yet, during all the time I spent with her, I don't think she knew who I was once. She was trapped somewhere a lifetime ago and I was just part of the delusion. On most of our encounters, she was 16 again and anxiously anticipating her sister's arrival home to hear about her first day at work. I was a guest at her family's home who had come for dinner. The irony of her seeing herself as a child is that it's how she now has to be treated - not with the respect that a person of her age and life experiences should be treated, but in a fragile, tender, childlike manner.

I teach and while I sometimes feel like I give performances for a living and my daily routine is largely impromptu speaking, it's different to suddenly be doing improv to someone's misconstrued reality. Her quick wit and our sarcastic banter will be no more. It's a hard reality to face that a relationship of 26 years is suddenly gone, yet that person is still very much alive and right in front of me. It's hard to be with someone who doesn't even know I'm there.

I'm good at shutting people out when it becomes too painful for me to know them, a folly I'm aware of. Too often I give little regard to what they're dealing with and how my absence/silence affects them. Instead, I shut down, detach, and throw myself into distractions. Sadly, it's what I know and what I far too often do. Here I am once again at the same crossroad. My instinct is to raise my guard, back out, and shut down before it gets any more difficult, but at the same time, she doesn't deserve that - not from me or anyone else who knew her well, even if she no longer knows us. It's hard. There's no hope to cling to that things will get better. There's only holding close and letting go.

A widow with no children of her own, she took to us and we to her. Though now 98 years old, I've always seen her as someone full of spunk and life. I've always admired her independence; she still lived on her own until about 2 years ago. Her unconditional love for my brother, perhaps for all of us, has always astounded me. She saw us kids at some of our best and worst moments and still decided that we were worth being a part of her life. Is she not still worth being a part of mine? When her hip was fractured, she lived with us. When her eyesight failed, we became her eyes, but when a mind slips, there's little that can be done but try to ease the passing of time, try to hold on to good thoughts and memories, remember what once was and fight reason to cherish what still is. Life will be over too fast and I'm not up for facing more haunting regrets. Reality: life is difficult. In the infamous words of a friend, I've got to "suck it up cupcake."

dance

2006-12-07T09:42:00.000+08:00

Lately I've been in the mood for a little dancin', and my friend, on a dance movie kick. We're getting together for the weekend, so there's no telling what could happen. This morning it was requested that I remind another friend to bring along Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Definitely not on my list of movies I can't wait to watch again, though I did find it slightly better than the original Dirty Dancing - another movie I saw fit to only see once.

I can still recall the hype that surrounded that movie when it came out. Back then it was a big deal to have seen it, at least if you were a kid. Many parents forbade their young, impressionable daughters from watching, but then again, a lot of my friends' parents wouldn't let them see Goonies either. I, however, saw Dirty Dancing at a 3rd or 4th grade birthday party and it was the talk of the school for weeks. A friend's parent owned the town's video store so she could hook up birthday parties and sleepovers with practically any movie requested.

It was one of those movies that many girls loved still making it onto favorite movie lists everywhere. Patrick Swayze commanded a swoon factor for mothers and daughters alike, something I found more than a little disturbing. Shortly after the party, I confessed to my mom about watching it. I figured it would get back to her eventually and I wanted to clear my conscience. To my surprise, she didn't much care. I mean, she seemed to care that I told her about it but didn't seem concerned that I had seen it. Maybe she knew I was growing up and stuff like this was going to enter my world - one of those rare 'cool mom' moments for a kid. Come to think of it, she was cleaning her room at the time. Perhaps the furniture polish was getting to her and confusing her thoughts. I don't think I've watched it since, despite loving it so much the first time, but I have been to the place in Virginia where it was filmed - an experience I enjoyed far greater than watching the movie.

Rest assured, no dirty dancing is in store for the weekend ahead, but there are rumors of Thriller moves being performed. Kodak moments anticipated.

2006-12-04T23:30:00.000+08:00

Today I
woke uncharacteristically early
filled the house with the smell of banana bread and clean laundry
found an old cd I missed
had all green lights on the commute to work - I pass through 18 so I consider it an anomaly
basked in the mixture of warm sun and cool air
found myself thinking it feels like winter at 75 degrees F
enjoyed my job
was rescued from city stench by new flowers in bloom
will probably fall asleep before I intend with a good book in hand
was made content in the small things the day has given me

for the English teachers

2006-12-02T13:10:00.000+08:00

I enjoyed this too much not to share.

the can of worms is open

2006-12-02T02:25:00.000+08:00

While I'm on a roll, here's my weirdness of the day. During my evening jog I started craving eel! Who craves eel?? Not just any eel but a particular dish from a favored Japanese restaurant. Still, weird. I blame the octopus balls (as in balls of octopus meat) that I ate mid-week. They must have opened the door for other random seafood hankerings. Also, every night this week I found it necessary to eat a pack of peanut M&M's during my dinner break in order to pull through my round of evening classes. Ultimately, I think it's a protein deficiency that bringing this on. As long as it's not seafood together with peanut M&M's that I'm desiring, I'm prepared to humor the cravings a bit longer, or at least until I have eel next weekend.

6 weird things about me

2006-12-01T23:30:00.000+08:00

As though I've not provided sufficient examples already, I've been tagged to blog on the topic of 6 weird things about me. Despite protests, I've decided to concede. So here it goes, 6 weird things about me:

1. From as far back as I can remember, I've known I not only wanted to travel but spend some time living abroad. From childhood, my heart longed for something it didn't know, yet knew it couldn't live without. I've had an innate yearning to see the world. I even went through phases of trying to convince my parents to move to places such as Norway and I think Siberia.

2. I had this thing about considering non-conventional careers as a kid - President, commercial fisherman, and funeral director, just to name a few. Probably my most unusual though was my declaration that I was going to be a nun, especially considering I wasn't Catholic. However, as a young kid, I already saw life scripted - college, marriage, family - and I figured becoming a nun would be the most socially acceptable way to excuse my lack of desire for marriage and a family of my own.

3. A piece of my skull is chipped - Jr. high miniature golfing mishap.
Also on the subject of anatomy, I have crooked pinkies, but that one's hereditary.

4. In general, I hate drinking. It's like a chore. Plus, I think water tastes foul. Averting dehydration is a daily battle.

5. I've got sleep issues. First of all, I'm an insomniac. I love to be awake when the world sleeps and I'm most productive at night - it's when I'm at my best. When I do sleep, I average 5-6 hours of rest a night. The enigma, however, is that for as much as I hate retiring the day, I also hate parting with a cozy bed in the morning.

Additionally, and more amusing to others, is the fact that I've been known to talk in my sleep. I have a sibling who's also a sleep talker and our evening confabulations across the hall would amuse our parents.

Better still, however, are the phrases I come up with while in a semi-conscious state, such as when being startled awake or trying to fight off chemically induced drowsiness - anything that might make me drowsy, will. Things muttered all make sense in my head but my brain and mouth are no longer friends. It's frustrating because I can hear it all coming out wrong, yet I'm powerless to stop it or even know how to fix it.

Actual example: "I'm looking for the bubbles for the tank."
Translation: I can't find my retainer.

6. I didn't like foods that most kids enjoyed: pizza, spaghetti, mac & cheese, hot dogs, french fries, or fish sticks. I'd sometimes have to eat before going to birthday parties and friends' homes. They're still foods that I don't care for much.

Rich and Handsome

2006-11-29T23:00:00.000+08:00

Each year's crop of new students brings an assortment of interesting names. This year's toppers among my lot include children named Rich and Money. Recently, while reading over a communication from a parent, I was amused to discover the array of interesting monikers also extends to the fine folks at home. My favorite so far has been a father named Handsome.

I guess with a name of your choosing that can be easily changed with a say so, there's room to play and be whimful in the selection. In Chinese, however, the name game is serious business. In fact, it is a business. As I learned from 2 students in a recent lesson on the topic of naming a child, in Taiwan there are those whose job it is to select a name or list of possible names for a child. It's practically a science incorporating Gregorian, Lunar, and Chinese calendar systems. I barely understand the process so I'm not about to explain it, however, naming a child right is believed to set the tone for the child's future. I've even had students whose Chinese names have been changed in order to improve their prospects and give them a fresh start.

My naming was more like a hit and run than a science or an art. Part of becoming a foreign resident of Taiwan is taking on a Chinese name that legally represents you. Since this was done during my first few weeks in Taiwan among signing mounds of documents, I had little idea I was being assigned a name. It was selected by a staff member who left the school a few weeks after I began. Basically, she chose a 2 word name that sounds a bit like Kara: ka-la. It literally means "card" "pull" and together, has no real meaning, however, if pronounced in wrong tones, it's the name of a KFC chicken sandwich. Great, my name sounds like fast food, something both friends and students have discovered. I've since acquired a more meaningful Chinese name, however, the former is still technically mine.

During Taiwan: The Early Days, a friend and I asked a Taiwanese chum what some traditional Chinese names were for females. Since males were prized in a family, naming a daughter was of little consequence, and so their names had meanings such as "I guess I will feed you" and "the one who calls after the son." Fortunately, the outlook for females has since improved - at least in Taiwan. A Taiwanese pastor I heard earlier this year spoke on the meaning and weight of names. He was mainly speaking on how Christ changed Peter's name to Peter (Petros, meaning rock, a solid foundation) from Simon (meaning reed, easily bent by the wind). I suppose there are those who hold the idea that a name should not merely define who we are but shape us as well, and so, in some cultures, it's hoped that children will live up to the meaning of their name. The pastor gave another example of the weight of a name, this time from an experience in a hospital waiting area. When the nurse awkwardly called out the name of the next patient, the name translated was "vessel of chicken sh*t". Wow, what a name to give your son. Can't you just feel the love? If you thought your parents stuck you with an awful name, perhaps you're now beginning to reconsider.

Thanksgiving at the kiddie table

2006-11-26T08:45:00.000+08:00

Last night I attended Thanksgiving dinner. In the company of friends and strangers, Americans, Brits, South Africans, and Taiwanese, old traditions were shared and new ones forged. Amazing food abounded. Lively conversation, show tunes around the piano, and wine flowed freely.

A few brought their families and that meant kids. While there was no kiddie table, there was a kiddie room where the troops were entertained with George of the Jungle. In the presence of a roomful of interesting adults, I chose to hang out with kids, the very creatures I'm surrounded by day in and day out. My recent state of anti-social melancholy led me to seek sanctuary among those who wouldn't expect me to talk or to have something interesting and snappy to add to the conversation. It was a rewarded decision. In the midst of self-banishment, I found myself happy. For the first time in days, unforced smiles returned.

Later in the evening when the place cleared out, 4 of us remained and we had an impromptu Simpson's mini-marathon. There's no replacement for good friends. It was great to laugh again. It was great to want to laugh again. It was great to feel happy, even if just for awhile. I don't know why the cloud of gloom has been overhead recently but it was nice to escape its shadow for a bit and feel warmth again. Today the doldrums resumed but I'm determined to drive the blues away with punk and ska. After all, how can one feel down skankin'?

31 days

2006-11-24T23:00:00.000+08:00

With Thanksgiving over, the countdown to Christmas has begun. Today's mail brought my first Christmas card of the season. This afternoon, the Christmas display at my local grocer was already in place selling Christmas wares while "Christmas" music played in the background. The music, however, sounded an awful lot like Do You Know the Muffin Man with some sleigh bells thrown in. What's funny is that four years ago, during my first Christmas in Taiwan, that store probably didn't even have Christmas merchandise. In fact, any evidence of the holiday was hard to come by back then, but after just a few years, Christmas has been staking a claim, at least in the commercial realm. Despite the disheartenment that Christmas is growing in its international commercial appeal, it's still a welcomed sight. I love Christmas and it's so hard being so far from home this time year, so I can't help but embrace something familiar, something that feels, at least in a small sense, like home. My first encounter with Christmas festivities is a mere 2 weeks away. I'm ready. Bring it on.

another Thursday

2006-11-23T10:45:00.000+08:00

Last night when I got home I was so exhausted that I fell asleep the first place I sat down - my desk chair, and I was out within minutes. At some point I must have moved to bed. I felt rather well rested and happy when I woke this morning - the sun was shining, the sky was blue, birds were chirping. But then a few minutes later, I realized it was Thursday, not Saturday (it was one of those perfect mornings that felt like it must be Saturday) and then I realized it's not just any Thursday but Thanksgiving Thursday and my It's a Beautiful Day attitude dispersed.

Instead of spending the morning in pj's watching the Macy's parade, the afternoon enjoying an amazing home-cooked feast with family and miscellaneous guests, and the evening watching movies (probably Christmas ones) with my parents, I'll be teaching. Today's grand meal will be something along the lines of salad, pizza and Ovaltine. It's not the knowing that I'm missing out on something good that's causing my current doldrums, it's knowing what it is that I'm missing out on that's left me in a slump. However, I refuse to let the nonsense of "woe is me" rule the day. I'm am blessed and thankful to be where I am and doing what I'm doing today, turkey or no turkey. And besides, turkey shall be had on Saturday when friends and I gather to celebrate. For now though, I wish those back home a Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the holiday.

the golden ambitions of the kool-aid kid

2006-11-21T22:16:00.000+08:00

Now that Fall has set in and given over to its signature color, grey, blue skies and golden sunlight fade into memory. True to tradition, no longer spending much time outdoors, sunshine tresses also fade with winter's approach. In other words, my hair tends to darken a bit in the fall and winter - a phenomenon that does not escape my students and continues to intrigue them, as does blonde hair in general. In Asia, I don't exactly blend in, which would be handy occasionally.

Every now and then I get the crazy notion to dye my hair something a bit different such as brown. As a kid, I wouldn't dare consider brown hair. Blonde locks set me apart from the other members of my family and supported my "adopted" or "switched at birth" theories.
However, I eventually accepted that it takes more than a variant hair color to beak ties of resemblance. Once in late high school or early college, I was out to lunch with an elderly friend. Throughout the meal, a senior citizen from another table kept glancing our way. I figured that she perhaps recognized the person I was with, however, upon the completion of her meal, when her party was preparing to depart, she approached me and apologized for staring. She said it was because I looked exactly like her close childhood friend and schoolmate. She then said the woman's name and it happened to be one of my dad's elder sisters, who had passed away a few years before. I was speechless. To her, seeing me was like seeing a ghost of her past - it would have been about 40+ years prior when they would have been my age at that time, yet I guess the likeness was so strong, she in a sense knew me without knowing me. It was strange, but alas, I digress.

While I relished in not having brown hair as a kid, there was a phase when I was 4 or 5 that I was obsessed with all things Chinese and I'd sit in front of my mirror staring for long periods of time, as though if looking long and hard enough, I could will my hair black and my eyes dark and almond. Obviously, it didn't work and once I learned about the plight of daughters in China, the fixation flatlined.

In high school and college, I had a secret ambition - blue hair. In high school, I had a friend whose hair corresponded with his favorite Kool-aid color of the week and I always wanted to go blue. There never seemed to be a good time to do it though, a possible regret, but I still think about it (and keep Kool-aid on hand, though not necessarily for that reason). I don't think it would go over well in my current profession, but perhaps one day yet, as long as I'm not one of those blue haired old ladies.

Despite my crazy desires (I had to talk myself out of going reddish blonde this very afternoon), I think I'm content with the way things are. I suppose for now my thoughts will be on sunlight and my ambitions, golden.

the early birds

2006-11-19T05:29:00.000+08:00

The Taiwanese have a way of redefining the term early bird. As I made my way home at 4:30 this morning, I was amazed by all the older folks already out at their neighborhood parks for their morning exercise. It won't even begin to get light for at least another hour, but there they were, the early birds, on their bicycles or out for a walk.
My other brush with early birds this morning: the neighborhood rooftop roosters, which I previously discovered start crowing around 4:00 am. You know you've been up too late when the roosters start crowing before you've gone to sleep and yes, I live in a city with 2.6 million people and a few roosters.

an evening with Mr. 2 Left Feet

2006-11-17T23:00:00.000+08:00

With another day of work done, I went to the park to take in a run. I glanced at my footwear while crossing the street. Time to be replaced - the tread is worn and they're getting quite beat. I thought briefly of the places they've been: 6 countries, 3 continents - they've had a good life.

As I approached my destination, I noticed something was different this evening. On the curb where I stretch, he was having a seat- a man I shall name Mr. 2 Left Feet. At once I had noticed his shoes didn't match - one sandal, one sneaker; it was hard not to catch. Not only was his footwear mismated, a left shoe was with the wrong foot acquainted.

While he sat quite peacefully watching others pass by, I could feel my discomfort growing. The pang of guilt for thinking about new shoes and for knowing I could buy them while feet away sat a man who was shod with the scraps of other. I perhaps shortchanged my warm up but I didn't care. I was ready to run, ready to flee, ready to clear my head and feel free. But physical distance cannot separate one from what's already in one's head.

A few cards, when played, will always defeat me. Things that I can ignore, avoid, escape, or detach from, but in the end, never quite become immune to or desensitized towards. Poverty is one of those cards and it's not like I haven't seen it in the extreme. When I did volunteer work in Haiti, life was poverty. Most people I encountered knew no other reality. It's difficult to grasp how something so widespread and extensive can exist. Yet in Taiwan, it's not so widespread. Statistics claim that 1% or less of Taiwan's population lives in poverty. This is a prosperous nation which enjoys a lower cost of living that the States. That combined with the extended family community brings a certain amount of security and stability. In a park surrounded by high-end high-rises and constant growth, building, rebuilding, and refacing, the poverty I see nightly seems so out of place, nonetheless, it exists. Something about the changing weather brings the resurgence of park dwellers this time of year. Empathy is not enough; this year I've got a plan, and for that, I hope we meet again Mr. 2 Left Feet.

"Now I know I have a heart because I can feel it breaking." - Wizard of Oz

afternoon

2006-11-16T13:46:00.000+08:00

you stand before me
painstaking look on your face
one hand outstretched, looking to be filled
other, gripping your stomach, also looking to be filled
thin but clothed and shoed, not yet a hollowed shell, but not far off
skin tanned and wrinkled from the elements

today was not our first meeting
however, it seems we're always meeting this way
you, standing at the edge of traffic, slowly, desperately,
placing yourself in the path of others,
pleading for help and demanding someone take notice.

yes, it seems we're always meeting this way,
me on my way to or from meeting someone,
usually over food or a drink,
you, wondering if either shall find you this day.
it is time for us to stop meeting this way.

drained

2006-11-12T23:59:00.000+08:00

Ah, the euphoria of suddenly feeling better after having felt so miserable.
For the second month in a row, I've been blasted with illness, feeling more sick than I have since I was a kid.

On Friday night, my weekend began something like this:
16 hours of vomiting
2 hours of rest
7 hours of high fever
5 hours of rest

Thankfully Sunday has found me feeling much better, not fully recovered, but definitely much improved. I was slightly dreading the jam packed Saturday I had set myself up for. It had been a draining week with little sleep and what I wanted more than anything, I guess, was to catch a break this weekend. God provides again exhibiting His humour once more. Guess the only way to clear my schedule was to be taken out by illness.

The weekend was certainly made more bearable by the blessing of friendship. Becky not only brought me crackers and various beverages, but went to the pharmacist on my behalf to get meds - I was too sick to even leave the house to go to the drs. She checked up on me during the day and even stayed the night on Saturday in case I needed to go to the hospital during the night. Wow - what a friend! To boot, she whipped up some of her fabulous homemade chicken noodle soup this afternoon and had me over for a late lunch. It was nice to get out for a bit of fresh air. Ah, nearly well again just in time for work in the morning. So much for the weekend.

unraveling from both ends (Act 3, I suppose)

2006-11-12T19:00:00.001+08:00

So in case you've been wondering, no, I'm not a cold hearted jerk, at least, I don't think so. On the contrary, I care very much for and about people. Though guarded in feelings and expression, there are at least 2 truth based principles I subscribe to about love.

1. Love is a choice.

Though it's also the Bible's greatest commandment to love God and love others, it's still something we must choose to do or not do. There is a choice to give love and to accept love that is given. Additionally, not only do we choose to love, but we are chosen to be loved.

Some people are easily likable and easy to love. With others, it's not so easy. I can think of at least one person whom, for most of my life, I've not had an ideal relationship with. We're very different from one another and consequently have had difficulty getting along most of our lives. Yet, in spite of our differences and hurt this person has caused me and others, I still love him, even when finding it difficult to even like him. It's the idea that "I don't love you because you're lovable, I love you because despite everything, I still choose to love you." With choosing to love comes an ongoing commitment and effort.

Turning the tables on myself, in my own pride, selfishness, and ignorance, I've both intentionally and unintentionally hurt people who love me. Forgiveness, healing, and restoration take time, but the idea that someone is willing and able to do this for me astounds me sometimes, especially when knowing that it's possible, if not likely, that I'm going to fail again and hurt them once more.

How amazing is it then that God not only loves us but chooses us. None of our faults are hidden from Him yet great is His love for us. Yet again, a choice, an action is required on our part to accept and receive this love.

2. Love is costly.

I recently bought a new computer that I'm now beginning to love. It has taken some getting used to though. There were the initial reservations and hesitation because of the cost involved, followed but the awkward transition period of learning to adjust and get familiar and comfortable with the changes, a bit scary and exciting at the same time. Though the computer was expensive and required an openness to change on my part, I'm still glad I made the choice to purchase it.

As a kid, getting up the nerve to ask my dad to buy something for me wasn't always easy. "What is it and how much is it going to cost me?" was the common response. Perhaps loving things is sometimes easier than loving people because the cost is more easily defined. With loving others, "What's it gonna cost me?" holds a greater unknown variable. In the end, love might cost you everything, including your life.

Throughout history, people have given up their life for love - love of country, ideas, God/gods, and people. Regardless of religious faith or lack thereof, giving up one's life for another is considered one of the greatest demonstrations of human love.

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)

The difference between human love and God's Divine love, however, is that God lays down His life for His enemies (Romans 5:10). Not that humans aren't capable of giving their life for their enemies, but our ability to do so is due to God's redemptive nature.

Jumping heart first into things can land us in trouble when we've not taken time to consider the cost. However, I'm so grateful that when Christ considered the cost, I was still worth it. I've not only been chosen to be loved but I've been purchased for the most costly of prices, Christ's blood. And again, I know I'm going to fail and hurt even the one who has given the most to love me. And again, I'm going to be amazed that forgiveness, healing, and restoration can be offered be. But again, I'm so grateful that they are.

Despite my hang-ups and apathy towards love, I at least have an easier time accepting God's love than man's. I suppose it's because in faith I trust that God has what's best for me in mind. It's not what's easiest, it's not always what I'll like or want, but I trust it's what's best. What human can you hold accountable for doing that? Secondly, I trust that God's love is perfect. As humans, we're fallible. Our version of love is tainted and knowing this makes it all the more difficult to accept sometimes, even from family or friends.

I was reading some notes by Oswald Chambers this weekend and came upon something that felt particularly familiar. He stated:

Self-regarding love is part weakness, part selfishness, and part romance; and it is this self-regarding love that so counterfeits the higher love that, to the majority, love is too often looked upon as a weak sentimental thing.

I think that's where I'm usually stuck in my view of love. It's nice to have an opportunity to be reminded of the different view God's love provides.

2006-11-10T02:17:00.000+08:00

Feel the Love (Act 2)

I'm beginning to relent, though I suppose I've committed myself, so here goes everything and nothing in one fell swoop.

There are times when I'm independent to a fault, dashing convention, tradition, and expections along the way, and occasionally relationships and the feelings of others as well.

A year or two ago, a sibling made reference to a statement my mom made to him that I'm her least affectionate child. He jokingly tried to use it against me, as though it was some sort of amunition - "at least I'm not mom's least affectionate child." After a laugh and a moment's consideration, I realized I couldn't argue the notion. I suppose there's an ideal that at least your firstborn will find you, the new parents, endearing. I have always loved my parents, but I guess a bit of independence and self-reliance took hold from an early age, and so I shied away from sentiments of love.

Loving means loosing, a reality that I first learned at age 5 when I attended my first funeral. It was for my grandmother, the only grandparent I had ever known, and I loved her. I remember my mom breaking the news to me on the sofa in our old house. It was the day I learned what a heart attack was. From the moment I realized I'd never see her again, my world view was altered. And thus it began, a childhood marked by additional funeral parlor visits and new unpleasant vernacular, such as cancer. Gradually, it became easier to put up walls, to fight, argue, become competitive, detached. Thus, I can say I love things much more easily than I can express or even allow myself to feel an attachment or affection for people.

No more I love you's. I didn't need the words. In fact, being told such was considered an insult to my intellegence. What, you think I don't already know and thus you actually find the need to tell me? I believed people said these words for their own sake, not mine. Seeing dishonesty, distrust, biterness and brokeness in the relationships of relatives, friend's families, and eventually my own family and friends, being told, "I love you" felt cheap, even when genuinely expressed. It was a marketable phase that became words without meaning. Perhaps it was a somewhat weighty opinion for a kid to carry. I guess I've softened a bit since then, if not for my sake, then for the sake of others. I've come to understand how important it is for some to hear those words. Realizing this, I've learned to suck up my pride and say it and it's not disingenuine - I do feel love, whether or not I feel the need to say it. Sadly, it was the passing of another loved one during my college years that taught me to say it more.

Moving right along, here it is . . . I have a tendency to view love as a weakness, or at least the need for love as such. I've heard and read it so many times - people expressing a feeling, a desire, a need to be completed by someone else. I guess I'm the odd man out, or woman as is the case, because I just don't feel that same void. Furthermore, wow!, what a burden to put on another person, to say I expect them to make me/my life feel complete. That would take the responsibility for my happiness, for my emotional wellbeing, off myself and place it on another, someone who isn't necessarily willing or able to meet/fulfill that need.
I'm not going to try to tell you that I've never felt any sort of hole, void, emptiness - call it what you will. It's just that my response is typically to try to get to the heart of the matter - why am I feeling this way? As a christian, I want to know what God is trying to teach me, giving the empty spaces over to Him to fill. But I've seen those who are too quick to turn to the offerings of another to fill a vacancy without stopping to consider why one exists in the first place. It's no wonder addictions are successful- we turn outside oursleves and become needy and dependent on something that's not a solution but a replacement, an oasis, or a delusion.
No, I'm not putting love on the same level as addiction, but seeking either can be spurred by an attempt to satisfy a need or desire. Additionally, I'm not saying to avoid looking to others. Friends, family, a spouse, counselors, pastors, teachers, etc., can be an invalable source of ideas, advice, support, strength, and comfort.

I suppose I could continue to bable about how I think love can be selfish, full of expectations, and wanting of change, but I won't. You probably already think I'm screwed up enough without me providing further evidence, but it's okay, I forgive you.

How does this all relate to the book? I consider the genre of romance novels and love stories to be a bit hokey because I consider the idea of romance to be a bit hokey. It stems from my views of love and feeds my love is a weakness theory.

And now you know, whether or not you should.