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!

thoughts flowing like water

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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.