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

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

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#

"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

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

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

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!

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

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

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?

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.

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

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

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!

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

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!

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

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

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

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!