rebecca foster's archive

Licking the Habanero

2011-06-13T19:45:00.000-07:00

This weekend I was making pebre and my serrano peppers were not getting the job done, so I pulled out a couple of habaneros. I asked my mom,"Do you think these will be hot enough in the pebre?" "Well, how hot are they?"

Hmmm. I sliced one open and licked the pulp.

Just in case you didn't know, licking the inside of a habanero is a really dumb way to determine how hot it is. THE BURNING IT GOES ON AND ON HOLY HELL WHAT WAS I THINKING. I couldn't feel my lips or tongue for the next several hours, but on the bright side, 'licking the habanero' is now my new favorite euphemism for doing something stupid you probably knew better not to do.

Example: "Yeah. I went out with that guy even though I knew he was bad news. I totally licked the habanero on that one."

Live and learn (the hard way).

Living With Biculturalism

2011-06-12T07:47:00.000-07:00

If you have ever met someone for the first time and been asked, "What are you?", I think we could be friends.

It's a perfectly logical question, really. What I hear: "You look different than what I expect and I need to have a category to place you in, so I want to know: what are you?"

I usually explain that my father is (was) American, my mother is Chilean, and yes I look like my American father but with the coloring of my Chilean mother, no I don't speak Spanish as my first language, yes I can speak some Spanish but it is Chilean Spanish, yes I prefer wearing dresses not pants, no I don't go anywhere without lipstick on, yes I dress a little formally, no I'm not Catholic, yes I have been to Chile and can make manjar and pebre and empanadas, no I am not expected to date or marry a Chilean.

These are some of the common questions I am asked and I'm not offended by them.(Okay, it is a little embarrassing when I meet someone and they begin speaking to me in Spanish first and I can only go so far with it-- this used to happen in San Antonio all the time.) But I do find myself gravitating to other people who have also grown up biculturally in the U.S.: there is some sense of understanding that things aren't always clear cut, that our families were maybe different from the neighbors, that we are judged for doing things that are second nature to us but might seem weird to others.

V. once came to guest-teach my culture class in China and talked a little about this topic. As I listened to him, I realized this was one of the things I liked about our friendship, that we both understand what it's like to grow up with parents who don't do what the neighbors do, who raise you under a different set of cultural mores. (My mother set the tone for our family; Chileans are much more laid back about dinner times and schooling and curfews than traditional American culture, for example.) V. and I didn't share the same cultural background, but we both knew what it was like to try to integrate two cultures into one livable paradigm. T. lived in Chile for a while as a university exchange student, and its one of the things that makes me feel comfortable with him as a person, that I can talk about things he understands from living there. And maybe he likes being able to relive a little of that through me? (But he puts me to shame, he speaks Spanish fluently!)

Some people in America have very strong, negative opinions about biculturalism. It has been a little difficult to have been in China and tell my student how great it is that biculturalism is a part of American culture for so many kids, and then come back to America and hear negative attitudes towards it. I love that we can say these things freely without fear or stifling, but I definitely glorified this aspect of American culture while I was overseas.

Sexting and Cheating Red Flags

2011-06-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

All of the Anthony Weiner press coverage makes me feel somewhat validated for having done this. I stand by it.

I don't as a general rule comment on current event news stories here, because I can't imagine anyone gives a rat's ass what I think about the news. However, the subsequent debate about whether or not sexting is cheating reminded me of the short, personal checklist I've amassed of potential red flags that the guy asking you out/hitting on you isn't as uninvolved as he claims to be*:

1. Only wants to see you during non-prime time hours, i.e. lunch but never dinner.
2. Gives you an email address and/or phone number just for you (you usually find this out when he calls/emails you from the other by accident).
3. Only wants to talk to you from work.
4. He has a cat and lives alone (so he says). (I have a bias that young, single men who want a four-legged pet get dogs, not cats. Also he turned out to be married so I was right.)
5. Only wants to see you far away from where he lives.
6. When you ask him if he has a girlfriend/wife, doesn't immediately say no or explain his situation.
7. He doesn't want people to know he knows you.

I have a theory that I attract men who aren't single (to various degrees) because I'm not very demanding and not interested in getting serious quickly (or at all). So if you need a list, you can borrow mine.

*I care if someone has made someone else think they are committed to them only. Casual dating is fine with me. But I don't like it when they aren't honest about being in an open relationship or are sneaking around behind someone's back.

Salma Hayek: My Style Icon

2011-06-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

If I could install a magic mirror in my house? This is what I would see in that mirror. Her beauty and fashion style in this picture is my idea of perfection:

I know it's really important to love and accept yourself, everyone is beautiful in their own way, blah blah blah, but I would so totally buy that mirror.

Technology or Love?

2011-05-31T20:10:00.000-07:00

"Rebecca," people will say to me, "you have crazy stories! How do you get yourself into these situations/meet these people/do such crazy things?" I don't think I have a good answer, but the answer I do have is: I take chances. Sometimes they fail, spectacularly so. Sometimes they are a joyride in the slip and slide of my life. Sometimes...it takes a while for me decide which column to choose.

When I read this article in the NYT about technology and love and ego and the difference between liking and loving and being a whole person, it clicked: the times when I seesaw and waver and hem and haw and wonder if what I am doing is of value or going to be painful or joyful or awful or gratifying, these are the times I am probably living up to my fullest potential as a human being. Not a great human being. Not a successful human being. Just...a human being. And that's enough.

My dad, when he came to pick me up from the airport two days after his terminal cancer diagnosis, he told me, "Our relationship doesn't change. I'm still your dad, no matter what. But what I want most for you to learn is not to be afraid of being an emotionally giving person. Holding back does nothing for the world." Cancer is a magnifying glass that directs wisdom to the heart. My dad was pretty wise.

So my failures? The people I've fallen for and cared for and loved, not liked, that didn't return my feelings? Who decided I really wasn't worth their time? Ouch*. But also, hey, thanks for reminding me I'm alive. Pain means I cared a lot. Better the times of pain than a life of nothing. And for those who love me back? Our mutual joy makes life shine and sparkle.

*p.s. also you lose because I am awesome sauce.

Magnum Memories

2011-05-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

I'd never heard of Magnum bars before I went to China, but they quickly became my favorite treat.

One of my favorite ways to spend an weeknight evening was meeting up with R., J. and V. for dinner in R.'s neighborhood, then walking off dinner before crashing at a beer garden for some late night laughs. I spent more than one night searching for Magnums at every little ice cream seller we came across; more often than not, no Magnums, so when we DID find them, that made the evening all the better. I "mmmm"-ed all over the place.

So of course when I saw Magnums in my local grocery several weeks ago, I excitedly took a phone pic to send to R: Magnums! In the U.S.! Worlds collide!

In my humble ice cream opinion, they are better than Haagen Daz bars. I recommend the coffee ones, if you can find them.

Ma La Girl Adventures: Hot Pot At Home

2011-05-21T22:26:00.000-07:00

Ma La girls like hot pot. I had a hot pot dinner party at my house this past week, with spices I brought home from Chongqing. (I saved the wrappers and I'll be taking them to the Asian market to see if they can order more for me.)

Here is the food table, next to the eating table. In China the plates of food for hot pot come out on a multi-tiered cart, but because I don't have one of those, I used a card table. There are meatballs, little smokies, lotus, rice sticks, quail's eggs, noodles, squids, and two kinds of tofu. (We also had golden mushrooms and chicken pieces but those were already on the table.)

Here is a shot of the table set up. I bought an induction cooker to use in my apartment, because that's the kind of cooker I had in China and I found I prefer it to the convection cooking more popular here in America. I used it that night for the hot pot; not only is it portable to the table, but inductions don't get hot like convections so no one was going to burn themselves. It worked really well.

Hot pot tables in China are built into the table, like this:

I wonder if they would be considered a fire hazard here in America, due to the open flame below the table? I'll have to ask the next firefighter I see. I'd love to build a hot pot table for my house.

The small white bowls on my table are filled with the sesame oil/garlic/cilantro/msg mixture you dip the cooked food into before eating. They all loved it! I was really happy to be able to share this part of Chinese culture with them, and of course eat deeleeciours hot pot.

Just the smells of hot pot brought back so many memories! My most memorable hot pot was when I ate bull penis, and my second most memorable was eating it at 4 AM with friends after leaving a club. I knew I was a real Ma La Chongqing girl when I could eat hot pot at 4 AM.

Looking For Unlined, Non-Padded Bras?

2011-05-12T20:58:00.000-07:00

My Holy Grail of bras: no lining, no padding, and cute.

Beige bra with embroidered flowers: Felina.
Black lace bra: Victoria's Secret.

Both have matching panties available. (I bought my Felina at Macy's.)

Bamboo Wall Stencil

2011-05-07T21:40:00.000-07:00

90's Booty Mix

2011-05-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

While in China, I put this mix list together for a friend. I have vague memories of dancing to it one night at his apartment; I have even vaguer memories of dancing to all of these songs back in the day. The 90's were fun. (I've included hyperlinks to every song on YouTube.)

1. Wild Thing - Tone Loc
2. I Wish - Skee Lo
3. Return of the Mack - Mark Morrison
4. Dazzey Duks - 69 Boyz
5. Ain't Too Proud To Beg - TLC
6. Get It On Tonite - Montell Jordan
7. 1,2,3,4 - Coolio
8. Doin' It - LL Cool J
9. You're Making Me High - Toni Braxton
10. The Humpty Dance - Digital Underground
11. Hypnotize - Notorious B.I.G.
12. Rumpshaker - Wreckx N Effect
13. Sweat - Inner Circle
14. Wiggle It - 2 In A Room
15. Move This - Technotronic
16. Temptations - 2Pac
17. Do Me! - Bel Biv Devoe
18. O.P.P - Naughty by Nature
19. Pony - Genuwine
20. Baby Got Back - Sir Mix-A-Lot
21. Tootsee Roll - 69 Boyz
22. Ditty - Paperboy
23. Whoot! There It Is - 95 South
24. Phenomenon - LL Cool J
25. California Love - 2Pac/Dr. Dre
26. Come Baby Come - K7
27. Da Dip - Freaknasty
28. Tennessee - Arrested Development
29. Can't Nobody Hold Me Down - Puff Daddy & Mase
30. Gett Off - Prince

Fabric Ceiling, Boston, NYC

2011-04-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

Fabric ceiling in my study/library:

Closet w/ vanity:

Mural in Spanish Harlem (I think, not sure where it officially begins):

George Washington Bridge:

Boston:

Boston Public Library:

St. Patrick's Day in Boston:

The Girl Who Wanted Her Voice Heard

2011-04-21T18:57:00.000-07:00

You might have heard that China doesn't allow people to express their opinions about the government publicly and doesn't allow freedom of speech.

This is all true.

One of my great disappointments in learning Mandarin was realizing no one was saying anything really worth overhearing. People won't express a contrary opinion publicly, so they don't say anything opinionated at all. Casual conversations flow about food, fashion and money and not much else.

Which is why it was so shocking when I was judging a Shanghai Education Press-sponsored, city-wide high school English speech competition, and one of the girls opened her speech in the crowded auditorium by saying, "Our hands built the buildings that fell during the earthquake; our hands made the milk that killed the babies." (Referring to the tens of thousands killed by shoddy building construction and the tainted milk scandal hushed up because of the Olympics.)

I was floored, and shocked, and nervous for her, all at the same time. People in China do not say such things. At least, not publicly. I glanced down the row of judges (I was the only foreign judge) and saw a line of non-responsive, impassive faces. Which meant they were shocked, too.

This was a girl who had to have known she would not win the competition saying such things. It couldn't be done. And she said them anyway. What will happen to this girl, and others like her, who despite being told repeatedly to silence their voices, want their voices heard? I don't know.

But I will never forget that girl.

I have often hoped that if I had any success as a Peace Corps teacher in China, it was in creating a space for my students where they knew they could say anything, any contrary or adverse opinion, with no fear.

_____

Not everyone wants their voice heard. For a long time, I did. I had a chance that girl doesn't have. Maybe for that reason alone, because I could, writing here has been of value.

Here's what I'll be doing in my future: I will love, and be loved, even more than I do and am today. I will reunite with treasured close friends and make new ones and see where life takes us. I will find the place I can settle down and feel at home. I will struggle, as we all inevitably do, and I will find joy. As Robert Frost said: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

Relationship Status: It's Complicated

2011-04-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

(Note: I really dislike Facebook in theory and practice and I've given up for the second time trying to use it. It's not you, it's me, Facebook. Well, maybe it *is* you.)

China and I have a complicated relationship these days. So many things I miss: my sense of community, my fruit lady, my veggie lady, my shaokao guy, my baozi girl, the stairs and hills and daily walks, the easy-going nights, the fun days of teaching, my friends and students and public transport and feeling like every day was something new. And of course that includes R. and T. and V. and J. and my other close friends there.

Some days I feel like I'm never really going to fit in in America again, or be content here. It would be weird, right, if I spent all that time in China and didn't change? How can I come back and live an ordinary American life again? How can I want to date an American who is going to expect me settle down in a suburb with an SUV? (Short answer: I refuse to do that.)

But then I read an article like I did today, about how China has banned entertainment with time-travel as it's theme, or a few weeks ago when all Google products were blocked (again) and I think, "Really, China? REALLY?? This is a thing you're doing now??"

To be fair, the first things are about people and daily life and the second thing is about the government, but it highlights the complications I feel about China. I could spend both the rest of my life and never another day there.

5 Things About NYC and Boston

2011-04-09T16:03:00.000-07:00

1. The Guggenheim building is far more interesting than the Guggenheim collection.

2. I thought St. Pat's Day in Boston would be cra-zay. Maybe for New England, it is. I would like to invite all Bostonians to San Antonio for Fiesta. Cra-zay! I really liked Boston, but I am far too spirited and not nearly preppy enough to ever live there.

3. We went back to a friend-of-a-friend's apartment, where I accidentally left behind my McSorley's mug when leaving to go home for the night. The friend-of-a-friend had to walk me back to his pad to get it. Pretty sure he (and his doorman) thought this was as ploy for me to stay the night. Nope, I just really am that absent-minded. On the way to the subway (again), he asked me "You're not going to tweet about this, are you?" (Meaning everything that went down that night. He's an actor.) I was caught off guard by his question; is that really a thing people say now??? No. No I'm not.

4. NYC, please get a mag-lev train from JFK to Penn Station. Please.

5. I know someone who lives in the NYC area, and several times I felt bad I couldn't call up and say "Hey, let's meet up for dinner or something!" I wonder how long it will be until I can visit NYC without remembering?

Chinese Beer Garden Aficionados (Video)

2011-04-03T19:40:00.000-07:00

A big part of Chinese culture is sitting at night at a beer garden; this activity starts after dinner and often goes until the early morning hours. The beer gardens are located outside restaurants or sprung up on sidewalks next to food tables and carts. It is common for the sidewalks in my city to be lined with beer gardens.

Beer gardens aren't a weekend thing, they're an everyday activity. As I have mentioned here before, it takes so long to do anything in my part of China, there isn't an expectation to do more than 1 or 2 things per day. For the Chinese in my city, sitting at night at a beer garden with family or friends is a really important part of daily life. Chinese culture is structured around relationships; this is part of building them.

Most volunteers took to this custom quickly and easily. The video below is not only a good example of the atmosphere of these places (notice the blue stools we're sitting on), but also of the amount of free time we had on our hands every day; I mean, do you have this kind of conversation unless you have A LOT of free time?? Or as R. succinctly put it: "We did nothing but sit around and talk nonsense for two years! No wonder readjustment [to America] has been so difficult!"

This beer garden had a mug of swizzle sticks on the table; every time you ordered a round, they removed a swizzle stick for each drink. At the end of the night, they counted up the swizzle sticks for your bill. It was a great, low-tech way to keep track of drinks in a place where tabs don't exist.

(The movie they're talking about is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.)

Hot & Spicy Girls 重庆麻辣女人

2011-03-30T20:29:00.000-07:00

I'm taking advantage of the MacBook Pro I use for work and putting together some movies of my pictures and videos from China. Between that and the book, it's one reason I haven't been around here much.

I keep finding treasures in the crevices of my picture files, like this picture of a 'ma la' skirt. In Mandarin, 'ma' 麻 means 'numbing' and 'la' 辣 means 'spicy', and 'ma la' is a phrase commonly used as slang to describe Chongqing girls; the weather and the food are numbingly hot and spicy, and so therefore are the women. This is an adult woman's skirt. As you can see, it's about half my size. I can't imagine getting even my butt in this thing, let alone my legs.

Chongqing style is very ma la: short, tiny, tight, bright, covered in sequins and embellishments. Chongqing is sort of the Rio of China, I guess. I had a girl once tell me, while dressed in tiny panty shorts and a see-through shirt: "I am a traditional girl. But it is very hot here." Indeed.

We still use 'ma la' to describe things, i.e. "That is a very ma la outfit/dress/girl" etc. (One thing I loved about being with my China friends in Boston and NYC was using Chongqing slang with each other. 'Ma la' made several appearances.) Here is another ma la girl:

We are Chongqing girls now. We are ma la. We embrace it. At least, that's the excuse I tell myself for having purchased these shoes (although I am sure it has more to do with my Spanish blood than anything else):

I can't help it. I love them.

Death of a Parent

2011-03-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

Is there any age when the death of a parent doesn't pierce your heart and affect every facet of your life?

My dad was in the hospital room when I was born, and I was there when he died. I know many people don't believe in an afterlife, so I don't know if they would have the same feeling I do about helping someone transition out of life into death. But for me, to be there with him was an honor.

My heart aches for those who lose their loved ones to accident or trauma, who never experience holding someone's hand as their body breaks down and their heart and lungs labor to beat and breathe and even though it breaks your heart, you're glad they aren't doing this alone, and you believe under that labored breathing and unconsciousness they know you're there with them, supporting them, loving them, telling them it's okay to let go and move on, that you'll be okay.

It's taken me these years to see the beauty in living; not just the appreciation, or the gratitude, but the beauty of life. The beauty of skin and hearts and lungs, hands and eyes and ears and mouths, these things we use to experience the world around us, the people around us, the beauty of nature and art and man-made landscapes and music and food and all these things that bring pleasure to our senses.

Maybe it takes watching these things shut down in another person's body to appreciate them in yourself. At least, it did for me. I admire those who don't need this...what word is the opposite of inertia? That's the word I mean.

We love, so our hearts are broken. But we do go on, and we see new things and meet new people and experience new joy and sensations and grab tight to those memories and feelings, and that is the beauty of life.

If you've lost a close loved one, you might feel the world folding in on itself around you. I did. Hold on, you'll be okay. There is still a beautiful life waiting for you.

Maple Sugar Pilgrim and Boston

2011-03-17T12:04:00.000-07:00

Maple sugar pilgrims are definitely my favorite candy pilgrims. And, a neat view downtown. Happy St. Patricks Day from Boston!

George Washington Bridge

2011-03-15T19:25:00.000-07:00

My favorite bridge in NYC, the George Washington Bridge in Washington Heights. This is a phone shot from 181st street. We had dinner at a Dominican restaurant, window-shopped and enjoyed a long stroll through this vibrant neighborhood. Wonderful day.

Muslim Chinese Lamb Sticks Make Me So Happy

2011-03-15T13:25:00.000-07:00

On the street in Flushing; oh man, did these bring back memories. These spicy lamb sticks are sold everywhere on the streets in my part of China, day and night. And joking around in mandarin with the street vendor was almost like being back in China. What a great day so far, and tonight, Washington Heights and night bridge pictures. This day is only getting better!

Falafel Sandwich

2011-03-13T15:38:00.000-07:00

My favorite sandwich of all time. Lunch today in Union Park, just before I went to The Strand. Bought two books on Indian (South Asian) architecture and design and had them shipped home. Did you know in NY, if you ship your purchases out of state, you don't pay sales tax? Shipping ground is usually about the same amount as the tax and no lugging around extra bags. Thanks, NY, for making it so easy for me to shop.

New York City and the Incense Palace

2011-03-12T20:24:00.000-08:00

New York City makes me miss Chongqing dreadfully. It's a relief to not have to travel by car, to walk everywhere, to be able to pop into the corner bodega for shampoo and little cookies.

I brought my iPad so I could work here and there on a work project while I'm gone because of a tight deadline. I activated the hot spot on my phone, uploaded docs to mobileme and downloaded them into Pages on my iPad. I'll use my phone to wifi power the iPad to send the docs back to the office. Technology continues to amaze me.

Conversation T. and I had last weekend:

Me: "I just want to live in an incense palace with houseboys, is that so wrong?"
T.: "There is nothing wrong with wanting to live in an incense palace with houseboys!"

I knew there was a reason I love him. And I would like that incense palace to be in New York City. Thank you.

David Gandy: Found Art

2011-03-07T20:08:00.000-08:00

It wasn't my intention to post frivolous things here anymore, but I forgot how I am, in fact, often frivolous.

And I unabashedly love looking at hot men in cool clothes. Two looks I love:

Love these colors:

A man who shows up on my doorstep in that scruff and these glasses is getting sooooo lucky:

He's Zoolandering here: just ridiculously good looking. All that's missing is chest hair:

Thus ends my shallow, frivolous streak...for today

Men's Shirts

2011-03-06T16:03:00.000-08:00

It is said that of all our senses, our sense of smell is most closely connected to our emotional center. A man's shirt is an excellent conduit for the essence of the person who wore it: not only the smell, but the shape, the worn and faded spots, the memories I have of seeing them in it. For these reasons, I love it when men give me their shirts. As I regularly recycle my wardrobe in the spring and fall, these shirts have a permanent spot in my bottom dresser drawer. I'd never consider getting rid of them.

My favorite shirts were given to me straight off the wearer's back, still warm and musky. I deliberately leave them unwashed for as long as possible. Not a single of these shirts fits me properly, so I wear them to bed or the gym or while lounging about in my apartment. I don't know that any shirt I've received was significant to the wearer before they gifted it to me, but I can't wear them without feeling the happy memories I have associated with the gifter. The last shirt I received was from a guy in China; I'd asked him several weeks prior while going through his closet together if I could have one of his shirts to remember him by. The day we parted, he gave me a shirt he'd had since the 10th grade, worn around the collar, with a bleach spot and small cigarette ash burn holes. It's a fashionable brand, his favorite color, and smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and aftershave; all that was missing was the smell of whiskey for the shirt to perfectly remind me of our time together. My other favorite shirt was given to me by a guy I knew before I went to China, a work shirt. It's big and faded and comfy and reminds me how different our lives are, which was very appealing to me. It's my permanent gym and running shirt. I feel a little stronger when I wear it.

Surely I've received gifts other than mix tapes and t-shirts from the men I've known, but these two items are the only things I still have, or remember receiving. I'm not the kind of girl anyone should waste diamond-money on. I could not care less about the gifting of baubles and expensive things. Mix tapes and t-shirts: these things have meaning. These are the things that remind me who you are, and why I liked you.

Next up: perfect packing

Mix Tapes I Have Loved

2011-03-03T18:09:00.000-08:00

I read this blog post about a memorable mix tape, and it reminded me of the box of mix tapes (and mix CDs) boxed up in my storage space. I got my first mix tapes from A., in high school. He was the rebel, I was the studious good girl, and twain we met over debate class and mix tapes. His tapes leaned heavily on b-sides of The Posies and Fugazi, with Nitzer Ebb and obscure Japanese-release-only Depeche Mode songs thrown in for good measure.

My friend C. made me mix tapes in college, mostly songs by alternative bands he found rummaging through second-hand record stores; I'd never heard of most of them, but he did introduce me to Henry Rollins, something I'll never forget. He sent them to me through the mail and I loved getting that recognizable padded envelope. We never dated, but I'd like to think a man who will go to the post office for you thinks you're pretty great.

The creme of my mix tape cookie was S., who made me mix CDs by the dozens, full of alterna-rock-girl anthems, sensuous Motown ballads and obscure (to me) garage bands like Electric Six, The Oblivians and The Detroit Cobras. We also never dated, but I think he felt it his duty to educate me away from the Top 40 crap that fills up my running playlists. (V. once referred to himself as a fan of 'focus group' movies and music, which I thought was just a brilliant way to describe having no taste; I share his proclivities.) S.'s mix tapes take up most of the box.

Do people still make each other mix tapes? It's been several years since I've received a mix tape; is that a thing I should relegate to the 'used to be a part of my life' list? To all those guys who gave me mix-tapes: I still have every single one. You are remembered.

Next stop: T-Shirts I Have Loved.

Photo link

So This Is Life

2011-02-25T18:59:00.000-08:00

After the roller-coaster that was life in China, life back in America can sometimes seem a little...plain.

Not bad. Plain.

So this is life now: work hard, go to bed early, get up early, meditate, read, study, make time for friends, talk over the internet with far-flung well-loved friends, make vacation plans, work on art projects, watch Community, shop for food, do laundry, clean, Netflix in bed, cook, do all of these things many times all over again.

It's a good life. I'm adapting to life here in the American Western desert, but it sure does take some getting used to.

I've met some fun people here and I'm reminded again that 99% of people in this world are good-hearted and kind and worth knowing. I'm now able to accept I liked those not-so-good guys in my past because I didn't believe I was worth more than how they treated me. It's hard to admit that, but overcoming it has made a big difference in my life. Kind and steady beats jerky and exciting any day of the week. This is truth. The guys who have taught me this are decent, as well as sexy and exciting. (Yes, it is possible to be all three.)

Having said that, I don't think I have much else to say these days. Maybe it is the winter blahs. Maybe it is because I have been writing here for four years (!), and probably it is time for me to do something else. Maybe because this week, the volunteer who replaced me at my school died. (Very sad and tragic.) It has made me reflective of what my life has meant so far. And what it will mean in the future. My birthday is this month, a good time for a new start for me. I'll never delete these posts, because people read them and email me for advice about China or the Peace Corps and this makes my day! I'm not sure what else I'll say here. But these things I've said, they were very important to me. Thanks for listening, and commiserating, and sharing.

Many of you have been silent readers. Thanks to you too, for taking the time to listen.

As we say in China, 再见！

We're Writing A Book

2011-02-23T19:02:00.000-08:00

R. had the great idea yesterday that we should write a book together about our daily life experiences in China.

I said this sentence to R. while we were video chatting: "It was when you were in Tibet, the night we had all the gin and tonics and got sprayed down in the street by the paint truck..." and I wasn't even telling all of that as the story, it was just the setup to the story. And she stopped me with a "Do you hear yourself? Our lives are never going to be like that again. When will you ever get the experiences to say a sentence like that again?" And she's right. Our remarkable lives became common place and ordinary to us. So we watch to recapture our now-remarkable-again experiences for posterity.

She's the editor; we'll both contribute. I'm really excited to start this project. I picked up a new sketchpad tonight to start collecting things I'll include as inspiration and illustration. Even if we only publish it for two people, it's worth it.

Her first decision as editor? No pseudonyms. &*% is about to get real.

Periodically, I'll probably post excerpts I've written here. As much as I've written on this blog, there's so much I haven't said. The passing of time makes it easier to see clearly.
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This book is a good distraction from some sad news: my grandfather passed away Tuesday. I'm still trying to process it all, and I think I'm still a bit in shock. I have good friends like R. who helped me get my mind off of it, and some friends who took me out tonight. I'm grateful he didn't suffer longer. I am still trying to wrap my arms around the fact he's gone. It still seems unbelievable and unreal, like a dream.

Birthday

2011-02-21T20:31:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday and I have been overwhelmed with the good wishes and kindness shown to me. I plan on answering everyone individually, but until then, THANK YOU! You have made me feel very loved and remembered.

A new guy I work with offered to take me technology shopping last week because he knows a lot more about these things than I do. I don't know him well, so I was really touched at his generosity. I am now the new owner of a flat screen lcd tv (the first tv I've ever purchased) and a Blu-Ray wifi dvd player, purchased at his advice, and through which I can stream Netflix and Pandora over my television. The technology available to me in America still blows me away. And as a birthday gift he bought me the HDMI cord I needed to hook my new dvd player to the TV. I was surprised, because as I said, we barely know each other, but he is a generous and thoughtful person. Good people are everywhere.

The first movie I watched?

This is not a good movie. But, um, I enjoy his chest hair. And head hair. And head. And chest. (And it was just released on Netflix, so at the top of the queue; I swear I didn't go looking for it!) And yes, I still believe I have a shot with him.

(This picture reminds me of the time T. was lounging in just shorts and I said, "Can I tell you something weird? You have perfect chest hair." I still think it's a weird thing to say, but true. And when you think something nice about someone, I think you should tell them.)

It was a great birthday weekend; I appreciate those who made it so wonderful for me.

Female Peace Corps Volunteers in China, Plus Cancer (Again)

2011-02-10T19:21:00.000-08:00

When I was in China, I was asked to write an article for the Peace Corps China wiki about what it's like being a female volunteer in China. I guess I seemed well-adjusted? Ha, little did they know the hardships I still dealt with on a daily basis. It does get easier over time, but the challenges never fully go away. I forgot about it, but the other day I searched for it and there it is! My name isn't attached, but if you want to read what I had to say about being a female Peace Corps volunteer in China, you can read it here. It was interesting to me to read it again, after being home for these months. Gosh, it wasn't easy to live there.
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My grandpa has pancreatic and liver cancer; cancer sucks. I was in denial for a while about this. I think after everything I went through with my dad, I couldn't go through this again. I think I'm still in denial about it. Dealing with cancer never gets easier. He's not doing treatment, but being treated for pain. He's very brave.

Cancer, I shake my fist at you.

Xanadu! Plus My New HTC G2

2011-02-08T19:02:00.000-08:00

How could I have forgotten Xanadu for 'X'? Here's a brief clip of the final medley, during which she wears her little tiger skirt outfit. One of these years, I simply MUST replicate this outfit for Halloween; anyone who recognizes who I am is instantly on my love list.

When we were out in the countryside training rural English teachers, we got REALLY bored. It was hot, and there was nothing to do there. So we downloaded this movie and spent an afternoon watching it together. Now I always think of Yunyang, China when I hear songs from Xanadu. (Which is more frequently than you'd imagine.) For those who haven't seen it, please know this movie is all kinds of ridiculous and the ending makes no sense. But, it's an 80's kitsch classic.

Another time, I overheard a guy in Target gushing about Xanadu. I immediately sent out a text that I was in love. My brother texted me back: "You do realize the chances he is straight are very slim, right?" Or something to that effect. He was probably right. But still, I love you Xanadu boy! Let's be friends and sing Xanadu songs together!
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I finally broke down and got a nice smartphone. I thought I loved my iPad, and I still do, but it is being eclipsed by my love for my new HTC G2. I love:

The nesting of text messages by sender, just like in gmail
How intuitive it is to setup all my email addresses and sync with my work calendar
That I can send voice mails to my Google Voice account, which will transcribe and send me a text of the message
The wifi calling app, because I got a plan with the lowest number of minutes and don't have to worry about long phone calls
That I can cheaply call China using either Skype or Google Voice through my phone, with no carrier fees. No more being tied to my computer to make international calls!
The keyboard slides out on a hinge and is not full size, so less bulky. And it's just cool.

If you're in the market for a new phone, I highly recommend checking this one out.

Photo link

Cinnamon and Frankincense; A Few Recent Projects

2011-02-06T18:48:00.000-08:00

I bought this cinnamon and frankincense candle and loved it so much I went back and got the fragrance oil. It smells very warm and spicy and reminds me of the smell in the Buddhist temples. I bought the oil both for the oil burner I keep in my study/meditation spot and for adding a few drops to a hot bath. I'm about to be so meditative and relaxed. I recommend it, if you like spa-y, spicy smells.
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I've been working on putting my memorabilia from China in some sort of organized format. For my small papery souvenirs, I chose these cardstock cards, with a plastic cover on the front side and heavy cardbard backing on the back side.

Here's what it looks like fanned out a bit:

I don't like that ring, so I'm going to get a leather string and use that to tie it off instead. I'll use another peace of leather through the bottom holes but tie it in a bow so it an be untied for viewing.

Another project: I asked all my students to give me 'name cards' with their information; I used them to record their attendance and final grades (on the backside) etc. I saved all the name cards and put them into an album. It's cool to now have this record of all of my students. (I scratched out their email addresses and phone numbers in Photoshop before posting.)

I don't like cutesy crap but I do like having albums of things that were important to me. I have lots of these plain albums, full of notes and cards and memorabilia. (I also made an album of all the cards and letters sent to me while I was in China.) I have no idea what will happen to this stuff someday, but I like having it for now. For me, that's a good enough reason to go to the trouble of making them. Also, spray glue makes me happy! (haha)

I also have the album of ended relationships and what I learned from them; I put stuff in there (notes, pictures, etc.) and then I don't have to think about it any longer, like a little memory cemetery. But I don't have the inclination to share that one publicly.

Dropped Balls; Apologies To The Following Men:

2011-02-03T18:42:00.000-08:00

I mentioned recently that if you're a guy, and you wind up, you should follow through so the girl doesn't wonder why you dropped the ball. Well, I have dropped a few balls in my life, friends. I don't know if I remember all of them, but I remember these:

J.: Sorry about the symphony, and that night at my house, and the next morning at breakfast. I don't know what got into me. You were so cute! You just out-cuted me.

S.: Sorry about the fishing trip. But like I said, I'm not really the outdoorsy type.

T.: Sorry about how we said goodbye. I know it's my fault for misremembering when my plane left, which meant we arrived at the airport 15 minutes before my flight took off. Things were a little rushed. Sorry. And yes, I always double check now.

B.: Sorry for that night on my doorstep when you were hugging me, put your hand on the back of my head and sighed. I thought we were Just Friends. I didn't know what to do about the sighing without thinking about it first. By the time I got done thinking, the moment was gone. Sorry.

V.: Sorry about that night on the street after dinner when you tried to hold my hand and I slid it out and took your arm instead. It just caught me off guard, is all. Sorry.

R: Sorry about that night in the park when I had to pee realllly bad.

A.: Sorry about the duck pants. And the blue underwear.

T.: Sorry about the puking.

Squat Toilet State Of Mind

2011-02-02T04:37:00.000-08:00

Last week I walked into a restaurant bathroom and fully expected to see a row of squat toilets. As in, I was shocked and briefly disoriented to see Western toilets in front of me, not squats. Something in the restaurant must have reminded me subconsciously of a restaurant in China.

I still experience these little disorientations in other ways too, like when I visualize in my mind needing to go to the store and the image is the Carrefour in the main square near my house, not the Target down the road. (Sorry, Target! I hope we can still be friends!)

Evidently China is like Hotel California*: you can check out, but you can never leave.

I have a theory that the more emotionally difficult or significant your experiences are, the more embedded those memories become. China almost broke me, but then became the thing that saved me. I guess you don't forget that easily.

*Every Chinese person I ever met in China loves this song. I don't know why. If you ever go to China, learn to sing this song, then do it at KTV. China is yours.

unZipped: Zippered Dresses, Zebra Napkins, Zoolander

2011-01-31T17:34:00.000-08:00

Confession: I love having someone else to help zip up my dresses. And zip down. It feels very decadent, no?

And did you know this dress exists? I had no idea, until I was googling 'zipper.' All I can think is, it must be very uncomfortable in hot weather. Ouch!

I also love my black & beige zebra print napkins I bought at Pier 1 Imports years ago. Tried to find them online to show you a photo, but looks like they don't carry them right now. I'm too lazy to go take a picture so: picture zebra print napkins. I love them.

Just for M: Zoolander's best scene.

Make-Out Mix: Sometimes, I'm Kind Of A Jerk

2011-01-29T10:38:00.000-08:00

Picture it: Arizona, 1997-ish. I've gone to visit my friend T. in Mesa, but we are Just Friends, capital J, capital F. The kind of Just Friends who, because we attend universities in different states, travel to visit each other a couple of times a year.

Around 11 PM we go for a late night swim (yay Arizona winter weather!), then head downtown in his brand new car. I'm poking through the CDs in the center console when I find one clearly labeled 'Make-Out Mix.' Now, let's ignore for a moment the fact someone actually labels their CD 'Make-Out Mix' instead of something more innocuous like 'Slow Jams.' (Those two things are always the same, right?) I hold up the CD so I can see by passing streetlight if my eyes are really seeing what they're seeing. Being the kind of girl I am, the following exchange goes down:

Me: "Make-Out Mix? Realllly?"
T: "Oh... yeah. Um, I've had that CD forever, it's old, I forgot it was in there."
Me: "But you just bought this car last week."

The Logic, my friends, it never fails me. I pop out the CD currently playing and move to slide in the Make-Out Mix.

T., with slight agitation in his voice: "Uh, what are you doing?"
Me: "Oh, we're SO listening to this. I want to know what you think works."

I have no memory now of what was on that CD, but I do remember he was squirming in his seat a bit as I skipped through the tracks. This might shock you, but T. and I did not make out that night. I've grown up a bit since then; now, I keep my mouth shut when I notice something a little awkward. I appreciate it when they do the same for me. (And there's something really charming about a guy who isn't good at this stuff. It means I trust him more. But that is another post.)

I offer this story as Exhibit A for my guy friends who ask for advice as to whether or not they should try to go for the action with a girl they like. I always tell them, "Listen, if she doesn't want you to, you will not even get close enough to try. Girls usually know what's up, and if you're in the zone, you're golden. Go for it! Otherwise, she'll just wonder why you wound up and let the ball drop." But it helps when the girl doesn't call them out on the way to the box. Learned that the hard way.

I stand by this advice for respectful guys who are not surprise attackers.

"I Am Murdered" aka The Perils of Technology

2011-01-28T17:02:00.000-08:00

My Chinese name is Libeisha, which is three words combined: li (丽pretty) bei (蓓 flower bud) sha (莎 no real meaning, just used for the sound). But the word 'sha' with the character 杀 means 'murder.' I sent an email to a student and was typing too fast and when I hit the keys for 'libeisha' the character string that came up first was the murder-sha 杀, not the sound-name-sha 莎. I chose the murder character, didn't notice, and sent off the email.

Hoo boy, did my student find that amusing! He wrote back immediately, "Are you okay? You have been murdered? Oh no!" And told me he had gathered up his classmates to his dorm room so they could see and laugh at my mistake, too. They love that I study Mandarin, but they got quite a kick out of their teacher calling herself "murdered." Oops. Sometimes, your language skills are only as good as your typing skills.

I use Google Mandarin for my keyboard conversion program, btw. Google owns so many pieces of my life.

My other favorite Mandarin mistake was my students saying, "I am [name]" when they texted or called me. I told them so many times, "Not 'I am [name].' In English we say 'This is [name].'" But this was hard for them to remember and they made this mistake often. Flash forward to my Mandarin class this past fall, when a student stood up to do a dialogue and said (in Mandarin) "This is [name]." My teacher immediately interrupted: "Not 'This is [name]', in Mandarin we say 'I am [name].'"

It made me smile.

The Longest Walk

2011-01-27T17:52:00.000-08:00

One difficulty of living in China: lack of privacy. Sometimes in ways you'd never anticipate.

We had a disagreement in the middle of the very crowded, busy public square near my apartment; no yelling, but I was pretty upset. He asked if he could walk me home; the two kilometers to my apartment were passed in absolute silence. Oh, what I would have given for the privacy of a car at that moment! A car I could jump into and speed off and listen to the radio too loud to assuage my hurt feelings. A way to get the hell away from him right on the spot.

Near my apartment, we ran into American friends at the beer garden just outside my building. They beckoned us to join them, and as we sat down on our little playskool-sized plastic chairs, we had to pretend everything was fine. And a funny thing happened: everything became fine. After hanging out with them for a while, he and I went to my apartment; he cooked me some food, we talked, things were okay.

One of the hardest things about China was the inability to be alone when you wanted. But being forced to interact with people also taught me some good lessons about how to deal with others and face things head on; you often didn't really have a choice.

Maybe sometimes in America, it is too easy for us to be alone.

This Video Is Amaze-Balls

2011-01-26T20:43:00.000-08:00

I found this link through Twitter; it's a short animated visual graphing of the rise of the wealth and health of nations over the last two hundred years. The Chinese breakout especially interested me; GuiZhou and the rural parts of China he mentions are where Peace Corps volunteers are mostly assigned; GuiZhou is the province just to the east of Chongqing. And yes, going to Shanghai was like going to Europe as far as wealth, cleanliness and public behavior were concerned.

If you like social science, you will probably love this. If you don't like social science, you will probably love it after watching this.

York City, New and My Upcoming Vacation

2011-01-25T09:47:00.000-08:00

The best Y in the world is New York City.

As I've said before, Shanghai is more developed and other cities have more history and beautiful architecture, but New York has a flavor and spirit like nowhere else I've been.

I've booked my plane ticket and hotel reservations for my trip to NYC and Boston in March; I'll be gone a full 8 days, 4 days in each city. I'm going to spend time with friends from my time in China, and I'm really excited to go to the Chinatowns in Flushing and Manhattan. And of course, I have to go to Washington Heights and see my favorite bridge and walk those interesting streets. In Boston, we are doing the whole St. Patrick's day celebration thing, and I want to go on the Boston Haunted Walk. Other than that, playing it by ear. So many possibilities for fun!

When I'm in NYC, I always eat mounds of falafel. Looking forward to eating many deeleeciours foods. And being in a crowded city again. Salt Lake City is beautiful, but it's just empty compared to Chongqing. I miss the mass of people around me all the time.

If you want to see some pictures I've taken in NYC, you can find them here. This is a big mess of pictures, but something might catch your eye.

Only one letter post left! I'll try to make it a good one.

'X' Is Kicking My Culo

2011-01-23T15:24:00.000-08:00

Guys, I can't think of anything to write about for 'X'. I've been delaying and delaying and...nothing. X marks none of my spots.

Sorry, X.

In lieu of X, here's a picture of me when I was a toddler. I found this picture because V. and I were walking down the street one day and he asked me what my natural hair color is. I told him, "It's pretty close to the color it is now." "But your hair is like three different colors." I remember feeling flattered he'd noticed my hair at all.

So when I got home I dug this out of my electronic files to show him my natural hair color is pretty close to his: black. And also to show him I'd mastered jazz hands at an early age. (Well, my left hand did.)

My favorite part of this picture, though, is my red tights. My mom was always dressed us very fashionably. Pretty sure I was also wearing matching red Buster Brown shoes. I don't think there was a time between ages 1 and 10 I didn't own a pair of red Buster Browns.

Men With Badges Are Hot, AKA Licking Mulder (And Don Draper)

2011-01-21T19:11:00.000-08:00

I like to use the word 'lick' to convey my attraction/desire for someone.

Mulder: after all these years, still very lickable.

This picture also reminds me: beard burn? Always worth it. (It also reminds of the pictures I never shared from last Halloween because I had beard rash in places other than my face.)

And this might be the military brat it me, but men with badges are hot. Even when they're not hot, they're still hot.

If Don Draper had a badge, I'd probably kitten-lick him to death. I mean, come on.

Clothes-es, and Other Chinese-isms

2011-01-21T17:45:00.000-08:00

Chinese students almost uniformly make the mistake of pluralizing 'clothes' into 'clothes-es' and we are the kind of teachers that mimicked our students most common mistakes when talking to each other, so now I say 'clothes-es' all the time in my head. Other things we said:

Deeleeciours (delicious)
Advices
I wish you happy every day!

I miss speaking Chinglish on a daily basis. Luckily I still talk to folks in China so when they say things like this, I write them down. You think you won't forget, but you do!

Did you know in Chinese culture it is normal to wear the same clothes for several days in a row? (Not underwear, that I know of!) You wear them until they are dirty, then change into new clothes and wash the ones you've been wearing. It was really hard to get used to at first, but then I loved it. It's much easier than having to choose new outfits every day. My students thought it was really strange Americans change our clothes every day. I don't know if they thought we were showing off how many clothes-es we own, or being impractical, or just weird. But they definitely noticed the foreign teachers changed their clothes all the time. I started wearing the same thing several days in a row to fit in, and because: lazy. I miss it.

However, when I was in college, this was my favorite sweatshirt of all time; I got it for $10 at the GAP and wore it constantly. I was Chinese and didn't know it!

My students often told me that Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) was very special when they were growing up because it was the only time they got new clothes; now that people have more money, people own more clothes, and Spring Festival is not as special.

Unconventional Paths

2011-01-20T18:52:00.000-08:00

I had a refreshing talk with my friend E. over the weekend. And let me digress and say, My stories from China often involve the guys because I saw them frequently and they were always up for shenanigans. But the guys will fade away from my life, it's inevitable. The girl friends I made there were fewer in number and I didnt see them as often, but they are rocks in my river of life. They are smart, beautiful, funny, kind and giving. The boys are fun to kiss! And hang out with! And make me laugh hard! But the girls-- R., N., E., C., and J: they are the people I want to become.

ANYWAY, E. and I were talking about taking the unconventional path in life; Peace Corps often attracts people who take the unconventional path, each in our own way. When you take an unconventional path, you have to make your own markers of success, contentment, happiness, etc. How do you do this? Where do the markers come from? It can be stressful at times, having to choose and gauge and live by your own markers when society throws the traditional ones at you, constantly. It can also sometimes suck when you know people are judging you by traditional markers. E. is very wise. I realized talking to her, it's not a bad thing to have to forge your own path. It can be very exciting!

There are some guys I've been out with who are really good guys, but their conventionality means any chance for us is doomed. I've kept in touch with some of them, and although I'm really happy for their success, I'm also secretly relieved and thrilled their life isn't how mine turned out. Phew!

I love my unconventional friends. Not only are they pretty cool human beings, they teach me just how fulfilling it can be to take your own path.

Body Donation

2011-01-18T17:30:00.000-08:00

Today I mailed off the paperwork to donate my body at death to the University of Utah Medical School. I already knew I wanted to be cremated and scattered, so it made sense to me to add this part to it. I checked with my family, because they are the ones this decision would affect, and they were very supportive of it.

The medical school cremates you when your service is finished. I had the option to:

1. Have my ashes buried in a donor's plot at the local cemetery; each year, they bury the ashes of donors who wish to be buried there and conduct a memorial service for the families, medical students and anyone else who wants to attend.

2. Have my ashes mailed to my family by certified mail, with return receipt. This caught me off guard-- I had no idea you could mail ashes. Technically, you could mail them to somewhere random and boom, that's your final resting place.

3. Have your family pick them up at the medical school. This is the option I chose. My sister asked me where I'd want my ashes scattered. "Target." I was kidding. (Kind of? No really, kidding.) I don't know where I want to be scattered. Gotta think about it.

If I move, the school will help me find a new donor university medical school near me. They're mailing me a card to carry in my wallet that instructs my body should go to the medical school, not the morgue, just in case my family isn't there when I die. I'd like my family to take a vacation with the money from my life insurance, then donate the rest to a scholarship seed account. No cemetery plot, no headstone.

I've been thinking about these decisions since my dad died, because it made it very real that these decisions need to be made. You never know what's going to happen. And it's nice for the family to have it all laid out in advance. We knew exactly what my dad wanted, and it helped a lot. So, I'm glad my family was supportive of my decisions. Maybe some people will think it's a bit morbid, but it's just reality. We all die. I'm glad I can donate my body for good.

My Rooms, With A View

2011-01-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

Found my camera when I cleaned out my study. A few pictures from my new apartment:

I live near the mountains, in Salt Lake City. It's a 2 minute drive to the entrance to the nearest canyon, and within 15 minutes I can be in 3 or 4 other canyons, including the one that leads to Park City, where Sundance is held every year. I never expected to live here at this time, but it's where I got my great job.

This is the view from my balcony. It doesn't really do it justice, the mountain peak is 12,000 ft. elevation.

My dining room, with my Buddha scroll, rice cooker, electric kettle and Chongqing Starbucks mugs on the stove back. It's like I'm back in China all over again.

My living room:

Two pictures now hanging in my living room/dining room:

A little qipao I bought in the Shanghai airport so I wouldn't have to change that money back to dollars:

A picture T. took in Tibet last year of two Tibetan monks in an alleyway, holding hands. It's now above the sofa chair:

My study. There are three bookcases scattered about the room. I thought I'd like that better than all in a row, and I do! Still need a proper chair and some bamboo in vases, but so far it's a nice, homey space I enjoy.

A clearer shot of my bedroom:

So, that's where I live.

Jacket, Joie de' Vivre, Puffcorn

2011-01-15T18:12:00.000-08:00

Today was a hard day. I had to go to a funeral for a relative at the same cemetery where my dad is buried, a place I have steadfastly avoided the last four years. My step-sister said to me, "Is it hard for you to be here too? Or is it just me?" I felt so much better knowing I wasn't alone in feeling bad/anxiety today. We agreed we might be big babies, but at least we weren't alone.

So, I need to take my mind off of things.

1. I went to Eddie Bauer later to buy a cream colored soft shirt, because they are the only ones I know who make great cream-colored (not white) layering shirts. While I was there, I saw this Downlight hoodie pullover, in coffee, my size, on sale. I am now the proud owner of a really warm, sporty jacket. I figure if I'm going to live here now, I should build up a winter wardrobe. I love this new jacket.

2. A friend this week said he thought Marion Cotillard is my doppelganger. I would never make that connection, but it's a really nice, flattering thing to say. I *do* think I should now conduct all of my affairs as if I am Marion Cotillard, I love her joie de vivre. Life is about to get so much more exciting!

3. Cheetos Puffcorn. Have you tried this? I think it's coated in cocaine, because it is nothing but air and chemicals but I can't stop putting them in my mouth. The epitome of processed American food, which I try really hard to stay away from. My fridge is full of fresh veggies and fish and greek yogurt, I swear! But Puffcorn is awesome. Nice going, Frito Lay.

Nipples

2011-01-14T17:52:00.000-08:00

I bought a new bra recently and didn't notice until I got home that it had built-in nipple flowers; like these, but already embedded:

Nipples are so racy. Why? I mean, I've seen the effect they can have on men, but I don't get it.

Mens' and womens' breasts are different, but their nipples are a lot the same. Men's nipples are no big deal, so why are women's? I mean, sure, if the breast is naked, it's a little racy. But nipples through clothing? You know they're there, right? We're not human Barbie dolls. Why is it so shocking to see nipples through clothing?

I also saw this blog post a few days ago; looks like I am not alone in my nipple pondering.

My favorite bras are sheer lace, because to me they are the most comfortable. But have you been to a bra section lately? It's like now lace bras are the realm of Fredericks of Hollywood, because it's just row after row of thick fabric, padded bras. I don't remember when this happened; I wasn't playing close enough attention. But nipples are out, it seems. Or, really really far in, as the case may be.

Bring back lace bras! Let nipples be free!

I Talk Of Dreams...

2011-01-13T20:26:00.000-08:00

...which are the children of an idle brain. (From Romeo and Juliet)

You know what's weird? When you dream things you've never done in your waking life, and you like it.

I dreamt I was smoking. I don't smoke, never have, but in my dream I was enjoying it oh-so-much. But how do I know what it feels like to smoke?? How does my brain invent this dream about something I have never done?! I don't get this, and it happens with more than just smoking. Anyway, I was puffing away, chain smoking, and enjoying it immensely. *shrug*

I also have dreams I'm kissing people I've never kissed in real life. I always enjoy it. I want to tell them, "Obviously I think you'd be great to kiss" because that's a compliment, right? But then you have to admit you dream-kissed them. Awkward.

Dreams are full of crazy sauce.

Do you have dreams of things you've never done? Do you enjoy it?

Brutal Honesty Part III

2011-01-12T17:59:00.000-08:00

A guy I barely knew in my city asked me to dinner, in 2009. We went, no chemistry (even as friends) from my point of view, so I was shocked when he asked me if I wanted to have dinner and watch a movie with him that weekend. Sometimes first dates just aren't great, so I said yes.

But then, on the bus ride home, I realized he meant eat dinner and watch a movie at his apartment. I didn't feel comfortable doing this because I barely knew him and there was a certain BCI to this request (Booty Call Implication-- thanks Community!), so when I got home, I asked him if he'd mind if we did something else instead, like go to a local historical site. I didn't explain why, I just asked.

He said no.

Cancelled the date altogether by saying "Nevermind. I'm not into [historical site]." And no offer of doing anything else instead.

Hmmm. Okay, so he's not here for my sparkling and charming personality!

I learned from my Brutal Honesty II experience that it is totally reasonable for me to say what I feel comfortable with and expect it to be respected and not feel guilty or hesitant about asserting my comfort boundaries. It was okay BHIII was asking me out for BCI. And it was also okay that I didn't want to go that route and said something to change what was happening. I was really glad for the chance to show myself I had learned that lesson.

I bet in the past, I'd have felt bad about what happened with BHIII guy, because I'd think, "Oh, I should have given him a chance to see what was up." No. There was no reason for me to do that. He told people after this all happened that he didn't like me as a person and wouldn't come to parties and events if I were going to be there. I didn't have any bad feelings for him; if he didn't want to get to know me, so what? I respect that. (And I'm sure some other girls wouldn't mind the BCI, but I was not that girl.) But acting that way because I didn't want to be his booty call? *shrug* That was his prerogative. I was just glad to know that his response didn't affect my decision to stand up for myself in this situation. I actually learned something from a difficult experience. Yay, life lessons!

I Forgot V!

2011-01-11T17:50:00.000-08:00

NOTE: Um, I just realized I didn't forget V; V is for Vixen. I'm sorta dumb sometimes. But I wrote all this, so I'm leaving it up.

Sometimes I mess up the alphabet. UVW/KLM, I always have to stop and think about the order of those letters. Is it just me? Okay then.

I love the message of India.Arie's song 'Video.' If you haven't heard it, it's worth a listen.

Don't get me wrong, I totally buy into the Beauty Industrial Complex. I own a ton of makeup, I color my hair and shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows and exfoliate and moisten and shine or un-shine, as needed. And I like doing it.

But it's a good message to be reminded of: I'm awesome just for being me. In all the world, no one else is me. (If you know me, maybe you are thinking this is a good thing!) No one is replaceable. I cherish my friends, and I hope they know how much I value them for being individuals and who they are.

__________________

I also love my little violin I started playing in 3rd grade. It's a 1/4 size, tiny and cute. (I was a midget until about 8th grade, when I grew 6 inches all at once. So I had a little violin for all those years.) I don't play violin now, but it was a fun childhood hobby. (This was in my apartment in San Antonio.)

__________________

I'm known around my office for wearing Very High Heels. People like to comment on how I walk around in them without killing myself. (I guess I just got the Very High Heels gene, because I don't remember NOT knowing how to do this. Thanks, mom!) But even I was astounded by these shoes:

Holy shnikies those are some high-heeled shoes!

I'll stick to my three- and four-inchers. This picture makes them seem almost dowdy!

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Do you remember the miniseries 'V'? My family watched it together when it was on tv back in the 80's. I think it's kind of a cult classic now. I just remember the girl eating raw meat and having a lizard baby. I love my family togetherness memories.

I'm A Human Salt Lick: Magnesium Oil Eczema Therapy Update

2011-01-09T14:36:00.000-08:00

Have you ever licked a salt lick? We used to buy little ones for our rabbits and big blocks for our goats and of course I had to lick one once, just to try it. (In the store, before the rabbits licked it!) Well if you want, you can lick me; I taste about the same. (For about an hour, that is.)

This is my way of saying my salt therapy has been a big success, even though my skin is very salty these days. I don't think the salt baths are very practical, but the magnesium oil I bought has turned things around faster than I anticipated. It was literally almost overnight. I don't think magnesium oil prevents or cures eczema in any way, but it sure healed my existing patches quickly.

A word of caution: you know that cliche 'like pouring salt on an open wound'? Yeah. It hurts like a mofo. Be prepared for some intense stinging for about 10 minutes. I don't recommend this for kids at all, who might not understand the pain.

I bought my magnesium oil (not really oil, just super-concentrated salt magnesium solution) at a local health food store; it was $30 for 8 oz. I checked Amazon.com and they sell magnesium oil for about this price, but some other brands for much cheaper. A little goes a long way, though. You spray it on like hairspray, then massage it into the skin. And, voila, you are salty but soon, eczema-free! (If it works for you like it worked for me, that is.)

Another word of caution: keep it far away from mucous membranes. Far. Away.

Wabi-Sabi, Or The Beauty Of Imperfect Beauty

2011-01-08T19:47:00.000-08:00

My dad bought me my first book about wabi-sabi. I don't know how he knew about it or knew it would resonate with me, but he was my dad, so he just knew stuff.

As I understand it, wabi-sabi is a Japanese concept of humility and acceptance of time and imperfection. It means accepting who you are in your soul. It means loving something because it is meaningful, and this makes it beautiful. It means that objects are beautiful when they aren't perfect or mass-produced, but when they develop character through age and use.

Wabi-sabi is not shabby chic.

Wabi-sabi isn't just decoration, it's the way you conduct yourself in your daily life. It means you are perfectly yourself and you don't wish to be anything else. It means you revere experience and humility. It means to live as simply as possible, so as not to clutter your mind or your heart or your home.

For me, the goal of wabi-sabi is to love every space I am in. I often describe myself as a minimalist, but in reality, I aspire to be a wabi-sabi-ist, where every item in my home is chosen for it's experience and beauty. I'm a big-time homebody, but I like to think it's because I love the space I create for myself. There's no place I'd rather be than home.

I've shared some pictures of my home, so you know I have a lot of old stuff here. Here's one more item I love, my grandparents' telephone table. They are both deceased and they gave this to my dad, who gave it to me (along with the bookcase). What I find remarkable about this table is the fact there will never be a telephone for it to hold, ever again. Isn't that amazing? In two generations, this piece of furniture has become obsolete. It's a little scratched and worn in places, but I love it, because it was an active and useful part of my grandparents' lives. I put a few of my favorite books on it, and I store pens and paper in the drawer instead of a telephone book.

I aspire to live more wabi-sabi.

P.S. for those that weren't blog readers at the time my father died, that teddy bear under the table is made from one of his shirts. My dad always wore suspenders, so the bear has suspenders. It's a gift from my step-mom.

Vixen In Leather Pants

2011-01-07T06:05:00.000-08:00

I can only think of two times in my life when I was clearly a vixen, and I have to admit, both times were really fun! I should do it more often, I'm just lazy or something.

In San Antonio, for a time I was casually seeing J., who played in a band and had the best house ever. After it was clear we had the chemistry of friendship, not romance, we still hung out and I would have totally moved into his house, because J. was so cool and had a house tricked out like a 60's Rat Pack bar. This is a picture of me on his bed:

Yes, he had mirrors on the ceiling. But this story is before that time. I went to see J.'s band play and as sometimes happens when you see a band play, I wore slightly more vixen-ish clothing than I did in my everyday life, namely black leather pants and a sassy shirt. (Sassy = cleavage.)

After he played and came down to me in the audience, he ran into a girl that turned out to be the sister of a girl he had recently been seriously involved with, and who it seems was not quite ready for the relationship to be over. J. has good manners so of course he introduced me to the sister, and whoo boy, she took one look at the leather pants and cleavage and she did NOT like what she saw. She did that whole, "Oh my gosh, it's so good to meet you (whore), isn't the band great (whore), J. is such a great guy (whore)" etc. You know the type. I mean, can't say I blame her, but still. She made me out to be such a vixen! It was pretty fun.

This was also the night I refused to hug J. because he was all sweaty after being on stage. Sometimes I am an idiot.

J. and I are still in touch despite my idiocy and I still love his house. I'm really lucky that most of the guys I've been involved I'm still friendly with, because even if things don't work out romantically, they are still awesome people I am really happy to know. Unfortunately, I can't zip up these leather pants these days. But, I got a trainer at a gym for strength-training, and my goal is to zip up those pants again!

See and download the full gallery on posterous

Undulating Usher Under Umbrellas

2011-01-05T20:06:00.000-08:00

Last Spring V. and I were meeting up at the train station to travel together to our end-of-service conference in Chengdu; I got to the train station first and it was an uncharacteristically sort-of sunny day (one of our five days of sunshine a year, whoot!) so I sat outside to wait for him. A couple of Chinese grandmas and grandpas came over to find out A: "What are you doing in China?" and B: "Where is your umbrella, young lady, that sun is going to turn you brown!"

One of the grandmas clucked her displeasure at my insistence that I liked the sunshine and didn't mind if I got a little darker. She stood next to me holding an umbrella over my head anyway, like I was an Egyptian queen on a barge (but there were no be-loincloth-ed men around, darn it). Chinese grandmas do what they want. Just as she was giving me another speech about my poor sun judgment and how it was going to make me too dark, V. walked up; his complexion is a little darker than mine, and grandma looked like she was going to have a stroke when she saw him. One foreigner with no sun-sense was bad, but what was she going to do about two?? She only had one umbrella!

Luckily this was a good excuse to get out of there, and out from under her umbrella. V. and I had a good laugh about it. We had a running joke that every time we were supposed to meet up, he'd find me surrounded by people trying to talk to me/boss me around. It did happen quite a bit. I miss my adventures with V.

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I love Usher; his music can be very sensual, which is a quality I admire in music. (And men.) Especially when I'm dancing to it. Ain't no shame in Usher! A few of my favorite songs:

Here I am! (I think this video got me pregnant.)

Usher and Pitbull in the same video? Swoon.

An oldie but a goodie. Pretty sure this was the song playing when I snapped a bra strap while dancing at 3 a.m. at club 'No. 88' in Chongqing. Yeah, I'm hardcore like that.

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'Undulating' is one of my top ten favorite words. Is there any mistaking what tone you mean when you say 'undulating'? It's probably the least-wholesome non-cuss word there is. Undulating. There, what are thinking of, right now?? Exactly.

Troy and Abed Mug, Tea, Touching Things

2011-01-04T18:14:00.000-08:00

My brother got me this mug for Christmas and I think I actually squealed with delight. I've written before about my love for the show Community, my favorite show on tv right now. I'm obliged to sing the "Troy and Abed In The Morning" song whenever I talk about this mug. My favorite thing about it is that the picture is the same on both sides, which means holding it in my left hand I can still see the picture, unlike my panda mug, which makes me stare at panda butt. Yay for double sided mugs! And Troy and Abed!

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My Chilean mom gave us tea growing up as medicine, so I was quite prepared for this aspect of Chinese culture. I was not prepared for the tea itself, though. When the swine flu was going around, my school boss gave me a bag of bark and twigs and told me to make tea out of it to protect myself. With all due respect, no way was I doing that. I could smell the tea through the sealed bag, not a good sign. G. had a bad cold and tells the story of going to a pharmacy for medicine and this lady in the alley behind the shop whipped her up a special batch of tea that smelled and tasted terrible but fixed her cold up right away. She went back to get more but the lady was gone, she was a tea apparition genie. B. had someone give her tea for acne that had lizard livers or something awful in it, it smelled like death. I can't believe she drank it. I like the idea of natural elements being a medicine, but sometimes the execution is a little hard to swallow, haha. When T. was stomach-sick at my house I offered to make him peppermint tea, which is a common remedy in Chile for stomach ills. He lived in Chile for a while so I thought he'd know why I was offering it, but he turned it down on the basis that as a man, he didn't drink peppermint tea. But a few hours later he called his parents for the 4th of July and when his mom found out he was sick, she asked him, "Does she have any peppermint tea to give you? That'll help." Ha! Turns out he didn't know peppermint tea is good for stomachs, he thought I was just offering a drink. But sure enough, a short time later, he was feeling much better. Peppermint tea works, even if you're a man. But under no circumstances do I recommend lizard liver tea.

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Do you love touching things? Let's be friends. Seeing might be believing, but touching is pure joy. I pretty much choose all the objects in my house and closet based on their feel. If they look good but feel bad, it's a no-go. The way things feel is terribly important in food, too. Something that has a bad texture is just intolerable. Bad feel is so much worse than bad taste. Tapioca pudding and okra can kiss my grits! I try not to touch things unless it is socially appropriate to do so, but sometimes it's really tempting! If I can, I sneak a quick feel. Shhhh...

Forgiveness: Confidence and Security

2011-01-02T15:24:00.000-08:00

There's no proof for this, but I think people can be good to other people because they have the confidence, self-esteem and security to reach out to and treat others well unconditionally. Conversely, we might treat others badly when we lack the confidence, the self-esteem or the security to be able to put their needs before our own.

When I hurt others, it has almost always been because of a lack of confidence, a feeling of insecurity, or not believing in myself. Friends have forgiven me, but I feel that pain of knowing I have hurt someone I cared about. I am grateful for the times my friends have forgiven me for my weaknesses and thoughtlessness.

I believe very few people set out to hurt others. But just like a drowning person will push anyone to the bottom to get their head out of water, so do some of us at times hurt someone else to try to save our own sense of self and ego, however misguided our actions are.

So my New Year's resolution is to try to develop the kind of confidence, self-esteem and security that allows me to be good to others unconditionally and never push someone under to 'save' myself.

That is all.

Fun, Forgiveness + New Year's Panties

2010-12-31T08:10:00.000-08:00

When I have to sum up this past year?

FUN!

(This picture is from when I lived in San Antonio, before my dad got sick. I was really happy and carefree. I think it shows on my face. I'd take a new picture but I lost my camera in the move. So, this old one will have to do.)

Probably some of the most fun times of my life. Okay, coming home from China and transitioning back to America was tough, but it was worth it for all the fun times that caused the big letdown. I mean, you can't go that low unless you've been that high, right?

I was that high.

(Not literally.)

Probably the two biggest lessons I learned this year are:

1. Ain't nothing wrong with a good time. It's okay to just be happy. I'm a lucky, lucky girl.

2. Forgiveness is not about the other person at all, it's about you. I used to be reluctant to let go of those bad feelings that happen when someone hurts you a lot because it was like letting them win. Well, *I'm* the one carrying that burden, not them. Duh. So I learned that forgiveness is the greatest gift you can give yourself. Truly.

Life is so much better without a sack of hurt and resentment to carry around.

And someone who hurts you might never face the repercussions for their actions, but really? Not my problem. Their life is their own to sort out. Luckily, I am not the one who has to make things okay. I only have to make myself okay. Such a relief!

So give yourself the gift of forgiveness, no matter how counter-intuitive it seems to just let it all go.

No really, let it all go.

And then, HAVE FUN!

Life is good, my friends.

Love you all.

Happy New Year!

And don't forget to wear your New Year's Panties!

Let's Talk About Sex, And Food, and Kitty

2010-12-29T19:09:00.000-08:00

This past 4th of July was hot, rainy and humid as Hades in Chongqing. We had our 4th of July American-style barbecue in the 8th floor stairwell because of the rain, which gradually moved into one of our apartments, because of the heat. One of the volunteers was dating a Chinese girl who spoke very fluent English and she came to our party. In the apartment we started talking about sex, as rained-out Americans in mixed company are want to do. I found out later this girl was shocked that we would discuss such things in mixed company in such detail, as this is just not done in Chinese culture. And, she was shocked at how much sex education we all had and felt comfortable discussing, period. Of course, we thought nothing of it. It reminded me that learning the language of another culture does not always equal understanding the culture. (This was also the weekend T. ate food he'd dropped on the stairwell floor and the next day got too sick to leave my apartment to go home and the resulting escapade of the peppermint tea, but that is another Chongqing story.)

Some other things I know my Chinese friends didn't understand/found perplexing about Americans:

1. Eating a fried egg sandwich. My host-mom looked like I popped out my own eyeballs and started eating them, she had never seen such a thing before!

2. Our comfort level with PDA.

3. Our comfort level with discussing intimate things with the opposite sex.

4. Cold drinks and ice.

5. The fact we didn't like eating steamed veggies for breakfast.

6. Our boss is only our boss at work. (In China, your boss is your boss in every facet of your life.)

7. Diet soda

8. How frequently and easily we move and change friends.

9. Our lack of enthusiasm for titles and hierarchy; i.e. we call everyone by their first name, even if we've just met them.

10. The penis size of American men and the breast size of American women.

11. That KFC, McDonalds and Starbucks have no real status in America, and in fact are considered undesirable to a lot of people.

12. That liquor is not available every 100 feet, 24 hours a day in America.

Here are some pictures I found of that weekend, I don't think I ever posted them. That stairwell was poorly lit, so they are not so great.

Potato salad, made in a rice cooker bowl, with as close to American ingredients we could find. Looks gross, actually pretty tasty!

The shocked girlfriend:

Meat for barbecuing. Yes, it is sitting inches from an ashtray.

T. and G. Yes, G. is that stunningly gorgeous all the time.

Awesome ladies and friends K. and J. Please note the wall of that shop is selling nothing but cigarettes and hard liquor. These little hole in the wall convenience stores are located about every 100 feet. No, that is not an exaggeration.

BONUS PIC!

We walked into a restaurant for dinner and this kitty was on the chair. We sat at a different table so as not to disturb kitty. A Chinese guy came in and pulled out the same chair, gasped in surprise, and also sat someplace else. Kitty ruled that chair.

Mermaids LOVE Pink Light Bulbs

2010-12-28T20:36:00.000-08:00

My favorite kind of light bulb is the GE Soft Pink bulb; I had them in every lamp in my apartment in San Antonio, and it was lovely being bathed in a soft, flattering pale blush glow. I tried to make sure all my dates saw me near a lamp as often as possible.

Side note: you know how in old movies when things get romantic, the light gets all soft and fuzzy? There should be a way for that to happen in real life too; it would be so helpful! I'd know exactly what was on his mind and I could gear up for it. (I hate surprises. Also, I am a dork and usually thinking about, oh, light bulbs and stuff. I miss the cues sometimes.)

Target in San Antonio carried pink bulbs and it was never a big deal to buy them, but they're non-existent everywhere I've checked here. Where did all the pink bulbs go? I found them online-- $60 for 12, plus shipping. Um, maybe not! I kept checking and did find a cheaper price, phew! So, I have to have pink bulbs shipped in? Really, light bulbs? I have four on hand I packed away before I went to China. At the time, I thought I might be crazy for packing light bulbs into storage, but it turns out I was just prescient! If you can find pink bulbs, you might like them. I recommend giving them a spin.

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Last night when I went to Home Depot, I was wandering about looking for huge bags of salt and a very nice guy who works there asked me if I needed help. Are Home Depot employees the most helpful employees ever, or do I just look totally incompetent in a Home Depot? Because I never fail to get offered help about 5 times when I'm in there. One time, a guy spent five minutes explaining to me how to install my new deadbolt lock, and it wasn't until I left I realized he didn't have an apron on, he was just some cute dude helping girls out*. Drat! Once again, I was about 10 minutes behind. But I digress...

This young guy last night offered to help me and when I said I needed a bag of magnesium chloride, he said, "You need what?" Then he got on the walkie talkie to a guy in another department. "She needs what?" Evidently they don't carry it. He asked me how much salt I needed and I was tempted to tell a lie and say I needed it just for water softener, but I truly did need a huge bag, so I admitted I wanted it for bathing. He barely reacted to this, but as we were walking he did say, "A bath huh? And it takes that much salt?" I said, "Well, it needs to be the same salinity as sea water..." and here I am feeling really foolish, because who does this? I'm pretty sure at this point he thought I was a crazy girl who thought she was Daryl Hannah in Splash, so I admitted it was a treatment for eczema. I feel so stigmatized by eczema, it was almost better to let him think I thought I was a mermaid! Anyway, he got me the salt I needed and didn't laugh in my face or cringe, so it all turned out okay.

How many times in your life do you think people believe you think you're a mermaid? I hope it's just once.

*As he was talking, I just kept saying, "uh huh, uh huh, uh huh" and nodding, but really I had no idea what he was talking about. My landlord installed it for me.

Salt, In Three Parts

2010-12-27T17:23:00.000-08:00

The book Salt is fascinating, if you are into the history of how common items influence history and customs and such. The author traces the impact salt has had on societies since recorded history. He makes the point that how we feel about oil is how previous societies felt about salt; think we'll ever get to a point where oil is a non-issue? (Not because of supplies, but because of reduced necessity?) I also loved the part where he talked about the Sichuan rural peasant making declarations about Chinese inventions apropos of nothing. Totally. The Chinese do love their declarations!

Salt, by Mark Kurlansky

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This sparked a realization: iodine deficiency. Pretty sure I had it in China. In about my fifth month there, my hair started falling out in too-large-for-comfort chunks. I was horrified, as I am pretty vain. I called our doctor about it and she told me I needed to diversify my diet; I was a vegetarian and my normal protein substitutes (mainly dairy and nuts) were either too expensive or too scarce. I was still suspicious of the non-refrigerated eggs at this point, and hadn't discovered how to eat their formats of soy. The Chinese don't use table salt, and salt used for cooking isn't iodized. I started eating fish and meat and seaweed in my soup and my hair stopped falling out. I thought it was a protein issue but knowing what I know now, it was probably an iodine issue. I wonder if I've recovered yet iodine-wise, in full? Might take some supplements for a few weeks and see if I feel any different. The alternative is to eat more of this:

Mmmmm...dinner!

These are the things you have to deal with if you join the Peace Corps or go live in a country where the dietary standards are very different. It's entirely possible to be healthy eating a Chinese diet, but you gotta learn how to do that. And not be afraid of unrefrigerated eggs, meat and seaweed!

_______

I also remembered that salt bath is a treatment for eczema. I get eczema in small patches all over my body at various times, and it's gross and uncomfortable. I use creams and such, but it never really gets rid of it. I looked online for unscented bath salts, and you can buy big jugs of them for about $30 from Amazon. HOWEVER, a guy also said in the comments that you can buy a big bag of salt suitable for bathing in from a hardware store for much, much cheaper. Sure enough, today I went to Home Depot and a 40lb bag of salts is $3.50. It takes about 20lbs to get the bath water to the same level of saltiness as the sea. That's a lot of salt! I'm also going to the health food store tonight to get magnesium chloride to add to the bath water, as that is the extra ingredient in extra-recommended Dead Sea salt. (In sum: sodium chloride + magnesium chloride = nice skin. I hope.)

I will report back if it makes any improvement over time. I figure for $3.50, can't hurt to try.

Next step is for me to turn into a pillar of salt.

The NYT Is Spying On Me, Plus The Thing A Man Doesn't Want To Be Called

2010-12-23T17:56:00.000-08:00

An article from this week about how younger people hate email. I wrote about it weeks ago! Get with the program, NYT. You are so 2000.

Link to the article.

My goal to not email didn't go so well. I think I lasted about 6 hours. Oh well.

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I was reminded this week of a conversation T. and I had when I was in China. I told him that something good had happened (I can't remember now what it was) because he was such a decent guy. His response?

T.: "Ugggghh, decent? That's a bad word to a guy. It's like me saying, "You have a great personality."
Me: "I DO have a great personality!"
T.: "Ok, yes you do, but still no guy wants to be called decent! It means they're not exciting or sexy or something."
Me: "Okay. I won't say it again."
T.: "Well, I probably am decent. I just have to live with it. Damn it!"

Before this I had no idea 'decent' was such a loaded word. So now instead of decent, I say 'exciting and sexy.' Men! Is this a common attitude toward the word 'decent'? I always thought of it as a compliment.

Queens, NY + The Christmas Knife

2010-12-21T17:24:00.000-08:00

I'm a little bit enamored of the idea of Queens, NY. I've never been there except for riding to and from JFK and LaGuardia, which doesn't count. But I've heard there is a large population of Mandarin speakers in Flushing, Queens, and I really, really wanna hang out in Mandarin-speaking Chinatown for a day or two.

Historically, the majority of Chinese who immigrated to the U.S. were Cantonese speakers; hence Szechuan food instead of Sichuan food. (I'm gonna call it: Sichuan wins. But actually they speak Sichuan dialect, not Mandarin, in Sichuan province. China is kinda complicated.) But some of that is changing and Flushing is one of those areas. I supposed not many people dream of a vacation in Queens, but I've rescheduled my Boston trip for St. Patrick's Day/Evacuation Day next March and I'm trying to work out swinging by NYC a few days prior. If so, I'm definitely going to Flushing. I need to eat some delicious foods and buy sketchy Chinese products I miss.

(As a side note, I went for dim sum last week-- $44 dollars! That can buy you about a year's supply of street food in my city. I was horrified.)

Is there someplace you've always dreamed of going that isn't a common tourist destination? And why it is a meaningful place to you?

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In my family we have something called The Christmas Knife. My mom loves wrapping our gifts in boxes with LOTS of tape, so you can't get into the present unless you rip the boxes open with your bare hands or use a knife to cut all the tape. So before we open gifts, we grab a knife and sit in a circle with our Christmas Knife in our lap. I think this tradition would make an excellent kids' book.

Can I admit how much I hate wrapping gifts? It runs in my family. My sister said on Sunday she is tempted to just bring all of her presents to my mom's house in a big bag and hand them out unwrapped. I said, do it! At least we won't need our Christmas Knife.

We always open presents on Christmas Eve, it's the Chilean way. You have to eat every hour from 5 PM to whenever you finally go to bed, then you sleep in, wake up and eat again. Chileans eat all night long on Christmas Eve. It's amazing to see. I usually conk out about 11. (But that's two hours later than my normal bedtime!)

Pig, Pendleton, Panda and Pitbull

2010-12-18T19:34:00.000-08:00

I've had this little pig since I was a toddler. As you can see, it's been broken a few times. I loved this pig so much, I'd carry it around like it was a stuffed animal. I got very upset when I'd drop and break it, and even though it was just a worthless, cheap ceramic pig, my dad glued it back together each time. I've saved it as a reminder of one of the qualities I admire most about my dad: if it was important to you, it was important to him.

Another thrift store find: my vintage Pendleton wool, double-breasted peacoat. Very heavy, very warm. I got it for $15 about ten years ago. It's been in storage for years and years because I didn't need a coat after I moved to San Antonio. I considered taking it to China, but it's so heavy it would have taken up precious weight in my luggage. But, the coat is back! The first time my mom saw it, she said, "Ew, it looks like something an old grandpa would wear." I KNOW, that's why it's awesome!

I found these cute mugs a few days ago-- I thought it very appropriate after China to be drinking from a panda mug. I love the way my Chinese host-mom said the word 'panda', it always came out "pandar." (And Chinar, Rebeccar, etc. A common Chinese inflection. I used to get texts from students with an 'r' added to the end of my name, so cute.) So now in my head, I always say 'pandar' too.

Guilty pleasure: Pitbull. His music is a lot of fun to dance to and the girls in his videos are usually Latina, a little heavier, curvy and gorgeous. So, maybe I just like seeing this kind of woman celebrated! Once at KTV we put on a Pitbull song and instead of the cheesy stock footage that usually accompanies American songs, they had the actual video. I was so embarrassed, I was with a room full of my students! I tried to block it but the boys said, 'We are adults, we can see it!' That was my cultural contribution to China that day: half naked Latinas dancing around. Oops. (Love that green pleated dress, though.)

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Here's what I've been working on today, unpacking books. But I only have this one bookcase (handmade by my grandpa and passed down to me), because my other bookcases were just temporary and didn't make it in storage. So, until I get some more bookcases, this is what I have: stacks of books all over the floor. At least I can see them all, right?

'O' Again: Old Things, Ottawa, Otters

2010-12-15T19:42:00.000-08:00

I'm revisiting my last letter, I realized I had more to say about it. My last two posts were pretty serious, so how about something more light-hearted for now?

1. Old Things. My mom abhors old things, so I know I get this from my dad, in some cases literally. This little desk was his nightstand during college, but I remember it as the place he stored wiring and electronics, etc. He gave it to me, I painted it black (not well-- needs to be redone) and I use it to store toiletries/medicine cabinet stuff. I reckon this little chest is about 40+ years old now. I love it because it was my dad's.

He also gave me his Army toolbox, and a really cool old Army messenger-type bag from the 1940s. I think he got it at a surplus store, but he used it as a fishing bag and I cherish it. It's in storage right now and I have a cold and am too chicken to venture out in the snow for it. I'll share a picture another day.

I bought my bed at a used furniture store for $200. It's brass, with onyx pillar insets. I'd like to think some exotic old woman owned it and her family sold it when she died and I inherited her taste for flowing dressing gowns and perfect lipstick, but that's probably just the romantic in me. In any case, it feels so good to be sleeping in my own bed again (minus the top mattress).

And my dresser, also very old and purchased from the same used furniture shop. The drawers are inlaid with black walnut and are solid wood, no particle board on this baby. It needs to be refinished, but I still love it.

2. Ottawa is one of the most beautiful cities I have been to. I loved my time there and look forward to a return trip someday. If you would like to see some of my pictures, you can see them here or here.

Love Ottawa!

3. Otters: my geeky weakness. I mean, how much do you want to smile when you see this picture? Adorable.

Hope you all enjoy this week and have fun getting ready for Christmas!

Brutal Honesty: Part II, Timing and Shoulds

2010-12-12T20:51:00.000-08:00

Note: I moved into a new apartment this weekend, I'm way behind in my correspondence. I love my new apartment though; the walk-in closet is bigger than the kitchen, and includes a lighted vanity mirror and sink area for getting ready in the closet. Perfect apartment for me.

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Story #2:

This guy, I knew him before I went to China. I thought he was charming, funny, smart, interesting, handsome, and I put him on a bit of a pedestal. We were not equals when it came to life experience. I liked that about him! At that time, I was grieving for my dad and not feeling very strong. It felt good to have someone who was more knowledgeable and strong to look up to.

I spent my final weekend with him before I went to China. Peace Corps discourages you from having friends or family join you for that final weekend before you depart, but I thought it would be okay because he was so great. But that weekend was much more stressful than I thought it would be; I was moving to completely unfamiliar China for two years with a bunch of people I didn't know. Looking back, it's okay I was stressed by that, but it meant I couldn't focus on him like I thought I'd be able to.

Something really difficult happened between us that weekend; I spent my last night in tears, and most of the following day, and too many days of next year. I was now afraid of him. I could never have contact with him again without anxiety. I 'shoulded' myself all over the place: I should have been prepared, I should have not been so distracted, I should have been more experienced, I should have been stronger, I shouldn't feel afraid. I wanted to Eternal-Sunshine-of-the-Spotless-Mind him right out of my life and try again. Maybe this time, I'd get it right. But after feeling bad and blaming myself for a long time, I finally was able to say, "I was myself. That's all I could be. I did the best I could under difficult circumstances."

I also believe 'should' is the saddest word in the English language; 'should' means guilt, judgment, fear, and lack of trust. I wasn't accepting myself if I kept saying 'should.' So I've made a conscious effort to eliminate the word 'should' from my vocabulary.

I have learned that sometimes the best of friends or lovers can come into your life when you are not prepared for them, and vice-versa. It's okay to leave. It's okay to let them go. I can honestly say that now I wish him nothing but the best. I believe he has a good heart. I remember with fondness the happy memories. I hope he's found what he was looking for and is happy.

I'm currently experiencing this principle with some close friends still back in China; our life experiences are really different and now that we don't have proximity and China to bind us, our friendship isn't the same. But it's okay. I look back on them with nothing but fondness and gratitude that they were a part of my life. And it's because of this tough experience I had that I can do this. So yes, it is possible to learn happiness from sad things! I'm glad.

Brutal Honesty; AKA, The Ghosts of the Past

2010-12-09T19:26:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be brutally honest about some men I know. (Not on the same day.) But both of these men gave me experiences that taught me something, so I'm sharing it. If they read it and recognize themselves, well, I guess now they know.

Story 1:

Chemistry, it is a mystery. I had a close male friend in Chongqing. We saw each other a lot, laughed a lot, ate together a lot, watched online tv together a lot, took taxis and buses and subways together a lot, blah blah blah. One night we were at McDonalds at 2:00 a.m., which is sometimes what you do in China when you miss America and our delicious, fake food. I was sleepy, so while we waited for our food, I put my arm around him and leaned my head on his shoulder for a little rest. He was a great rest-support post. He responded by running his hand lightly up and down my back, something he'd never done before, and instantly I felt the effects of that hand everywhere, all over my body, all at once. Well, that was unexpected. He knew my back had been sore recently, so he turned me around and began massaging me, starting in the small of my back and moving his way up my spine. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. This was my very platonic friend. And yet, I was having a very non-platonic reaction. After a few minutes, he piped up: "Does this feel good at all?" Um, yeah. Yeah it does.

I forgot we were in a McDonalds in China at 2:00 a.m., where people don't touch each other in public, and definitely don't massage at a fast food counter. Our food was in hand, but we didn't leave just yet. I didn't want to leave, ever. It was this magic spot where all of this made sense. But finally, yes, we left. When I got back to my apartment, I had his food by mistake. I hadn't noticed.

This guy and I? No similarities, other than our citizenship and language. (This is one of the great things about Peace Corps, learning to rely on people you have nothing in common with except for your citizenship and language.) We were different in every way you can think of. And he made me melt in a McDonalds at 2:00 a.m. For all of our differences, I adored him before this, and after.

I never told him. I threatened to, several times, but I was too shy. And I thought he'd be embarrassed to know how close he came to making me purr in public. But now? Now we don't talk anymore. I admitted the day we separated that I'd wanted to kiss him for a long time. I didn't tell him it began at 2:00 a.m. in a McDonald's in ShapingBa. But I don't think he felt the same way, this man who melted me while we waited for hamburgers. I told him later, after we left China, how much he meant to me and I got only silence in return. I was crushed. How does this happen?

So I've learned that chemistry is everything, and nothing. If this story were a movie, I'd like to think it'd have a happy ending.

Other Languages' Words I Wish We Had In English

2010-12-07T19:20:00.000-08:00

I know many of you are bilingual; so cool! I wish I spoke another language fluently/native-like. I don't. But I do like adopting the words I love in other languages into English, without translating them. I've talked here before about a few words I wish we had equivalents for in English. Here are a couple more:

1. Sancha

Origin: Spanish. Means: 'The girl on the side.' We don't have a great translation for it into English. Concubine? Mistress? Illicit Lover? None of those really capture how I heard sancha used in everyday conversation, which in San Antonio, was frequently. (What this says about San Antonians, I'm not sure.) Anyway, I always heard it used as a girl on the side you flirt with and have feelings for, but not necessarily doing anything about. Although you might be. It covers a wide range of doing-ness or not. But if you are in a monogamous relationship, you probably don't want your SO to have a sancha.

2. Ganbei

Origin: Mandarin. Means: Empty your glass in one shot. We do have some equivalent words in English, such as shooting, shot-gunning, chugging, etc. But ganbei is a more elegant word, I think. (Pronounced 'gawn bay.') It's used in the same manner as our word 'Cheers!' but it always means you have to empty your glass all at once. It doesn't have the frat-boy overtones of our words, it's just friendly and fun. The Chinese can drink, yo.

3. Hao bu hao?

Origin: Mandarin. Means: literally, 'good not good?' but is used to find out if someone finds your idea agreeable. It's shorthand for, "Is what I've proposed agreeable/ok with you?" Of course in English was can say, "Okay?" But there are so many ways to intonate this word it can be difficult to make sure your tone is coming across the way you mean it to, especially in writing. To me, 'hao bu hao' is more clear in it's meaning. When I text, I often start typing this and have to delete it if I am talking to non-Mandarin speaking friends. It's the first thing I want to teach my friends, so I can use it with them. I love it. (Pronounced 'how bu how.'

You guys, this alphabet thing is getting teeedddiiiooous. And judging from the number of comments, it is for you, too! Turns out I have far fewer interesting things to say when I am not talking about China. Which is great, because China is infinitely interesting to me! I SHOULD be far less interesting than China. Also, I don't like having to do things in order. So, I hereby resolve to finish my alphabet project at will, and in any order I choose, as long as I hit them all. That's much more my style.

Hope you all have a great week!

Naked Nerds Need Newton

2010-12-06T18:57:00.000-08:00

I got this t-shirt at Target several years ago. Yes, I do love nerds. Nerds know cool things! And can do cool stuff! Now, saying you like nerds is not the same as saying you like socially awkward types, although there might be some overlap*. To me, nerds are people who care a lot about something and invest themselves in it deeply and don't care if it's cool or not; they do something because they love it, not because they care what anyone else thinks about it. And if it's not mainstream? All the cooler. Nerds unite!

*I'm okay with socially awkward. It can be cute.
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I hate wearing clothes. I'd go topless all the time if I could. My mom used to always say she hated wearing clothes and I was so scandalized by this! Moms should be dressed at all times! But now I totally get it. I have a bit of a reputation of liking to wear as little as possible, whenever possible. (I was gchatting with someone and they connected by video; me: "Um, I'm not dressed." Him: "Of course you're not.") In San Antonio, the weather practically begs for nakedness, and I have it on good authority one of the selling points of San Antonio for many men is the near-naked state of the summer girls. I'm sure South Florida is the same way.

When I watch documentaries of people living on islands and they're all topless, I feel jealous. Oh, sweet freedom! What about you: naked, or clothes?

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I know I posted this once before, but the ridiculousness bears repeating:

Seriously people, it's so ridiculous, it's ridonkulous. I love it. And I would rock her black, horn-rimmed, bejeweled glasses.

Monitors, MAC, Marrakesh

2010-12-04T15:43:00.000-08:00

At work I have not one, but two 22-inch high def monitors, plus my 17-inch MacBook Pro. When I come home, my 15-inch laptop seems soooo small and quaint, like I'm using an old Atari or something. I am definitely spoiled by my big, high-def monitors.

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I'm a make-up junkie and MAC has some of my favorite colors. It isn't my favorite make-up; I prefer Chanel, Dior and Urban Decay for quality. But MAC has some great pigments that work well with darker, golden-toned skin. Such as:

"O" lipstick. This lipstick is magic, y'all. It's berry infused with gold, so it is just the right mix of red and brown. It makes your skin glow. I've heard it's a bit strong for some fair-haired peeps, but if you have a darker or golden skin tone, try this lipstick. You might love it like I do. One of my staples.

MAC Paints. I only wear them on my eyelids, although technically you could wear them anywhere on your face/body. They look like oil paint tubes and they go on a lot like oil paint, very heavy and opaque. You have to let it dry like you would paint, too. Awesome for a night out when you know you'll be all sweaty, because this stuff does not sweat off AT ALL. I like the silver color a lot, but they're all gorgeous.

And now that I am living in a desert climate again, I have rediscovered Studio Tech foundation; it offers heavier coverage but still powdery in feel, great for dry winters. My only complaint is that it tends to dry out after a while, but that might be because of the super dry climate here. I gave this stuff up when I moved to San Antonio many years ago because the humidity/heat there made it overkill, but as I will be here for the foreseeable future, I'm back to using it again. Still a great product.

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My dream vacation is to go to Morocco, especially Marrakesh. I dream of seeing the architecture and design and taking lots and lots of pictures. I don't feel like it's a great place for a woman to go alone (I could be worrying about nothing) so I want someone to go with me. For Christmas this year, I am buying myself this book:

Pretty sure it's going to be part of the design inspiration for my new apartment: half Chinese, half Moroccan. I kinda wanna live in a Chinese Genie Bottle, is that so wrong?

I also love my Martin acoustic guitar, Malai Kofta (my favorite Indian dish), Mahalia Jackson's version of Danny Boy and Magenta from Rocky Horror. (How I've never dressed up as Magenta for Halloween, I don't know.)

Leaves, Falling Into The Past

2010-12-02T18:46:00.000-08:00

One of my weaknesses is being able to forgive, move on and/or let go of the past; that is, not allow my present to be colored by the past.

I read an analogy that clicked with me: falling leaves from a tree. If trees didn't let their leaves fall and die each winter, they'd have no room for new growth in the spring. It's a part of nature that plants and trees let go of the old to prepare for the new. I never would have compared myself to this process without reading that, but it brought me some measure of comfort. I'm a visual person, so I needed that symbolism to help me understand why it's necessary to forgive and let go.

I vacillate between knowing there are people who should not be a part of my life and making that clear to them, and the sadness of wishing circumstances were different and they could be a healthy part of my life. In some cases (luckily very few and far between) that's just not possible. I both fear and miss them. It's been a hard thing for me to let go of and accept. I decided to think of these people as leaves, to visualize leaves falling from a tree, and knowing the tree is going to be okay. Maybe naked for a while, but okay.

Image link

Kissing, Krispies, Kool-aid,

2010-11-30T19:08:00.000-08:00

(If you are related to me, maybe you don't want to read this.)

I think some people come from kissy families, some do not. I come from a kissy family; I'm sure this was largely due to my mom's Chilean-ness. (Some of my clearest memories of visiting Chile are of being kissed by every old woman I saw.) I love that in Chilean culture, you kiss strangers upon being introduced. So friendly! (Maybe also other Spanish cultures, not sure.)

In San Antonio, it is quite common for friends to greet each other with a kiss. I got used to this. In China, I had kissing friends and non-kissing friends. When the kissing friends met up in public, I wonder if we shocked the Chinese around us, who don't hug or touch upon greeting, let alone kiss. I noticed my kissing friends in China were mostly Italian or of Italian heritage, or from the East Coast. Are you a kisser? My non-kissing friends are REALLY non-kissing. Funny how that happens.

When I was younger, I thought kissing was either for relatives or romance: two very different types of kissing! And nothing inbetween. Now I choose to believe in a full range of kissing: platonic, affectionate, romantic, shrug-why-not?, friendly, exploratory, nervous, curiosity, etc. In China, I kissed someone because his lips were bigger than mine and I wanted to know what that was like. (My own lips are kinda big; I'm used to them now, I hardly ever suction cup myself to anything anymore, haha.)

I kissed another volunteer the first and last hours I met him and nothing in-between. (Book-end kissing?) I kissed someone because he kept kissing me. Bars are kissing black holes for me; I seem to lose all sense of who I should and should not be kissing in a bar. I don't beat myself up about this.

I'm glad I was born the type of mammal that kisses. It seems life would be pretty empty without kissing, or the promise of kissing. (Sometimes the promise is the fun part, no?)

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I've been thinking a lot lately about my grandparents. I realized the other day: I'd never been in my grandparents house when there weren't Rice Krispies in the cereal drawer. Other cereals come and go, but Rice Krispies are forever. My little sister fought childhood leukemia for five years and during that time we all ate pretty healthy food, because she did. Cold cereal was a real treat! I remember going to grandma's and eating Rice Krispies covered in sugar and I was in heaven. This is still a favorite, albeit very infrequent, treat for me.

Rice Krispies are one of the few cereals you could get reliably in my part of China (imported from Taiwan). R. made us Rice Krispie treats a few times. I had to remind myself to chew. R. made our life delightful! She is extremely resourceful and talented. Rice Krispie treats in China was a real feat.

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One of my college roommates used to say, "I like my Kool-Aid like I like my men, strong and sweet." It still makes me smile when I drink Kool-Aid. I like my drinks very watered down, though; what does this say about me? But I had a dream the other night I went out with Wolverine (embarrassing but true). So I guess: I like my cheese like I like my men: sharp but capable of melting under the right circumstances.

Thanks, I'll be here all week!

John Legend and Jay-Z and V. and Me

2010-11-28T19:55:00.000-08:00

I just realized, both of my recent recollections about songs from John Legend and Jay-Z both involve V. What will I write about when I actually get to the letter V?

John Legend's album Evolver, one of my all-time favorite albums. Very mellow, very sensual, very engaging. The day V. and I left Chongqing was crazy; when we got to Chengdu it was raining, we had ALL of our stuff we were taking to America with us (I had more than he did, though; love when girl stereotypes are true!), and in the long-distance bus parking lot I was in a shouting match with a Chinese illegal taxi driver about the fare to take us to our hostel. V. asked me in English if we could pay the higher rate just to get us there. (He's very non-confrontational like that. I was prepared to keep yelling for a while, haha.) By the time we got to the hostel we were wet, loaded down and I can only speak for myself here, but generally just tired of dealing with China that day. My qipao was dirty and I'd been sobbing earlier, so I felt like a little drowned rat. But a hot shower later, we finally could just chill in our room and I put on John Legend and there might as well have been a hookah in our room, it was suddenly such a different mood. I have fond memories of that afternoon, chillin' in our room, listening to the rain and John. Thanks, John. You saved my sanity that day.

Aural-hookah, that's my new way to describe John Legend.

I also like Jay-Z now. (There's even a John Legend and Jay-Z song, score!) V. sorta introduced me to the Jay-Z repertoire; before that, I'd only known one or two songs. I sometimes crashed at V's place and he always got up and put music on first thing in the morning. One morning he woke up, went into his office where his laptop was, and a few moments later I hear the dulcet strain "If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you son; I got 99 problems but a b*tch ain't one" filling the apartment. I took it as a compliment. (Ha.) And of course there was the night T. and I did Empire State of Mind at KTV-- probably the best performance at KTV that night! Who knew moving to China would make me a Jay-Z fan?

China was such a crazy experience, on so many levels. Man, I miss it.

I also like Juicy Couture's original scent perfume. Other than that, my 'J's are coming up dry. Any J things you love?

Intuition, International Texting, iLove

2010-11-27T11:33:00.000-08:00

I used to try to override my intuition with non-logic, mostly because I didn't want to believe the things my intuition was telling me were true. In China, I learned to embrace intuition. It's a very large part of Chinese culture, to accept things that cannot be explained and reasoned and logically construed. Often this was frustrating for me; "This makes no sense!" came out of my mouth on maybe an hourly basis my first year there. Once I let go of everything having to make sense or be logical, I was much happier living there. Then it became another of our catchphrases, "TIC." This is China. That explains it. And that's enough.

-That person approaching you across the parking lot in an unsafe manner? Yeah, it's good to be suspicious of that person and tell them to back off. You're not rude. Nice people don't approach girls alone in a parking lot.

-That guy who tells you he is single, but so many clues point to him not being completely honest about what's going on? There's a reason you're suspicious, listen to it. (No matter how much you like him!) Someone willing to place his own ego above your concerns will place his own ego above lots of things that are in your best interest. (And with the availability of pubic information these days, I find it laughable people still think they can fudge the truth about this stuff.)

-Have a feeling something is 'off'? It is! Otherwise you wouldn't be feeling that way.

It can be heartbreaking to accept the reality your intuition is telling you is true. But in the long run, making decisions based on reality is much healthier for me. My intuition is a powerful tool in helping me navigate through life. I'm glad I had the chance in China to put this into greater practice.

UPDATE: Several of you mentioned the book The Gift of Fear. I read it several years ago. I am currently reading Human Intimacy, which talks about the difference between reality and illusion and making intuitive decisions based on reality in our interpersonal interactions. But yes, I must have internalized the Gift of Fear stuff too. I agree, it's a good book.

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International communication is almost like magic to me and none moreso than texting across the world. I can push a bunch of buttons and instantly, they magically reappear across the world on your phone? I can't explain that at all. I said a few posts ago that email is my thing, and it is, but I do like texting, too. I text my friends regularly, in addition to email. I got a text at 2:30 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, which was Thanksgiving dinnertime in China. An "I miss you/wish you were here" email would have been nice to wake up to, but getting that sentiment in the moment it was being felt? Miraculous.(I overlooked it was 2:30 a.m., it was a holiday after all.) So maybe the email queen can give make a few changes and go text-only for a while and see what happens.

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I have an iPad to do work tasks on and I am IN LOVE. I thought I liked my iTouch, but I had no idea. It has some great tools for me to use for work (visual mapping, handwritten note-taking and scheduling tools) but I love reading on the bigger screen and typing on the bigger keyboard. That little iTouch keyboard killed me! I can create a visual map, save a PDF and wifi it out for feedback. How awesome is that? I don't play games or anything on it, but I do watch Netflix at night before bed. I am addicted to History Channel and A&E documentaries and now I can get my heart's fill.

I had lunch recently with an old work colleague; we lost a friend and coworker to cancer the same time my dad was fighting cancer. He said, "Sometimes I think, 'Dave never even got to own an iPhone. He would've loved it.'" And I had thought that same thing about my dad; he was a tech early adopter and he'd have gotten such a kick out of the iPhone and iPad and all the other new technology we have. I'm sad sometimes I don't get to share this stuff with him. He'd be really excited about how I'm using my iPad for work tasks.

This is the mapping tool I use.

I use this tool a lot, too.

Bunny in Jackson Hole

2010-11-25T10:55:00.000-08:00

I had to take a picture to really illustrate Bunny.

Our group of friends stayed in a condo just off of the main square in Jackson Hole. (For those who don't know, Jackson is a ski resort town in Wyoming, full of quaint little log-cabin style shops selling expensive stuff, most of it incorporating sheepskin and leather and/or moose. It's very cute.) We were there to go to this event; we donated a quilt for the auction. The day of, I styled my hair in one of my favorite lazy-day hairdos, little buns atop my head:

That evening I was trying to decide between keeping the little buns or shaking them out into curls. I kept the little buns, mostly because it turns out they fit nicely under my panda hat and I didn't care what my hair looked like.

The event was fun! There was a live band, then a DJ. Around 1:30 a.m. we started dancing with a group of guys who all came to Jackson to work and be ski bums. Super funny, super fun, super good dancers. So I'm normally a kinda reserved person. The guy I was dancing with kept accidentally hitting my buns, so I shook them out on the dance floor. And boom, shenanigans ensued! So the girls thought it was funny that when the buns came down, my not-so-reserved alter-ego came out. They named her Bunny, because of the hair buns. And so, I am Bunny. But only sometimes.

One of my favorite things about our trip was Saturday morning; I'm an early riser, and by 11 a.m. I had been up for hours and everyone else was still asleep and looked to be for a while. So I went by myself into the main square, found an open diner/bar, sat at the bar and had the most delightful lunch chatting away with the cute, charming and talkative bartender. I was the only one sitting at the bar, so we had lots of time to chat. Also, ate the best French Dip ever! Cadillac Grill in Jackson Hole, I highly recommend it. When I got back the girls were awake and we went back to the Cadillac for (their) late lunch so they could bask in his charmingness as well. He was one of the highlights of our trip. Thanks, Jackson bartender! Here is a picture I found online of the Cadillac in the main square:

And a photo of Jackson Hole:

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!

Henry Cavill Holding Hands In My Hot Bath (Ha!)

2010-11-22T18:39:00.000-08:00

I just like knowing I live in a world where Henry Cavill exists:

I absolutely do not think he would ask me out.

Turns out I have very little to say about H's! A few quick hits:

1. High-heeled camel boots:

(I take it back. Henry Cavill might be blinded by the beauty of those boots and make it happen.)

2. Hugs and holding hands

3. Hot baths

The H's are kind of old-school and simple, but the classics never stop being wonderful, I suppose.

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In other news, our girls' weekend in Jackson Hole, WY was COLD but hilarious and I came away with a new nickname, Bunny. But I'll tell that story in another post.

Gyllenhaal, Google, Guys You Never Forget

2010-11-18T18:48:00.000-08:00

Swear on the bible, earlier this week I saw a picture of Jake Gyllenhaal in internet-passing and thought, "I bet there's a good chance if he met me, he'd ask me out." This means one of three things:

1. My self-esteem is waaay out of control
2. I'm delusional
3. I'm delusional

I don't ever think this about famous people, but you know what? I bet if I met Jake Gyllenhaal in person, he'd want to ask me out. He looks like a bunch of guys I went to college with, and they seemed to like me just fine. It could happen! Hehehe.

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I've accepted that Google pretty much owns me; gchat, Google voice, gmail-- everything they do, I love. Except Buzz. That sucked. But everything else is great. I actually get disappointed when I have friends who use yahoo and hotmail because then we can't gchat. Which brings me to my second point:

I've noticed lately that men kinda dislike email. One guy I know, he'll always answer my emails, but he'll never initiate them. He only initiates gchat/text/skype/ telephone for keeping in touch. Which sort of makes me laugh at myself, because I just keep emailing! I'm sure he's like, "Woman! Dead Technology! Move on!" Okay, not dead, but you know how the kids are these days: email is starting to be a little old school, no? Anyway, I've noticed this is more of a guy thing, but maybe it's just the guy(s) I know.

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Speaking of guys, I can count on one hand the unforgettable ones, but boy, they sure do make themselves remembered. I really want to write a humorous book called 'Passion From Across The Room: True Tales of Thwarted Love' (but by love, I really mean crushes, so I gotta think of a better word). I'd change the names, but if YOU were the guy in the book, would you want to know? Would it suit your ego to know you broke a girl's heart? I'd be tempted to mail them a copy, just so they know: "You were unforgettable." The latest one is from 2008, and it's been two years since I've seen him, and I still think of him all the time. So maybe it's time to write the book.

I'm heading out of town for the weekend with some friends, see you all next week!

Firehouses and Flashing Lights

2010-11-15T20:39:00.000-08:00

Those of you who have been reading this blog a while know that in San Antonio I lived across the street from a firehouse. Most homes in my neighborhood were gated estates set back from the road, but I walked everywhere I could and ran in my neighborhood at night, so the firefighters would often see me outside and we'd say hello, and then chat a bit, and then we became friends. One year I couldn't go home for Thanksgiving and when they found out, invited me over to have Thanksgiving dinner with them. I brought pumpkin pound cake and we had a delicious dinner. (Firefighters are awesome cooks.) I was pretty honored they'd ask me to join them, and it remains a memorable Thanksgiving. I'm sure it's the only Thanksgiving I'll ever spend in a firehouse.

I feel like firehouses are special places; they are setup up just to protect and help. Especially after living overseas, I appreciate that we have these places, and people willing to serve in them. I think nothing really bad could ever happen to you in a firehouse. I love the tools they keep there, too. And the historical architecture is gorgeous. I so enjoyed making my video of NYC firehouses on the historic register.

When I was in NYC, I had the chance to get a short tour of Engine 55 in Little Italy. I was taking a picture from the street for my collection and this guy noticed me and invited me in. Their firehouse was beautiful and had housed horse-drawn engines, so it was very interesting, too.

And this firehouse is in Washington Heights, Engine 93/Ladder 45. It's a long and little sad story how I ended up inside this firehouse, so forgive me for not sharing it in detail, but the firefighter who spoke to me and took this picture was really nice and down-to-earth. He knew a lot about Washington Heights, which was really interesting.

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I took down the KTV video I posted a few weeks ago because, and I don't know how I didn't think of this before, I realized the PERFECT music to play in the background. So if you want to see the new and improved version, click here.

Other F things I love:

Fish (any kind, there's no water creature I won't eat)
Faux fur
This lime green FranklinCovey laptop bag; too expensive for me at the time I found it, but I still love it.

Ears Etc.

2010-11-14T09:55:00.000-08:00

I have a bit of an ear/neck fetish. Ears are very sensitive, no? (That why we poke holes in them, I suppose.) A man who is a good ear kisser is permanently on the "I'll Always Remember You" list. (I love putting people on lists; it makes my life a lot more organized!) That particular list is short, but it's a good one.

I prefer sleeping with my ears covered; grandma came to check on me one night and saw me on my side with the blankets covering my ear. She got such a kick out of that because she needs to have her ears covered when she sleeps, too. She bought me a silk pillowcase so I could sleep with silk over my ears, what a grandma! I'll often wake up in the morning with my arms and hands curled up around my head, the backs of my hands covering my ears. I have a hard time sleeping with other people in my bed because I want the blankets over my ears. I don't know why, but it's comforting to have my ears covered. Hey, at least it's not my nose!

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I'd never heard of the Enneagram before R. showed us a book about it. Just for fun, we took the test online. I came out a 4. Personality tests are interesting to me only as they relate to other personalities. That is, I care less what I'm like and more how my interactions are affected by different personality combinations. (Using the Enneagram categories, I repeatedly have relationships with types like 7's and 9's. There must be something familiar or comfortable about them. Types like 8 make me flee.) It was interesting to me to read these descriptions because I did see a lot of familiarity in how they described my interactions. We sometimes had a lot of free time on our hands in China, obviously!

Other E things I love:

Sunnyside-up eggs
Elegance
Echo & The Bunnymen Lips Like Sugar

Ain't No Shame In Declarations

2010-11-10T17:57:00.000-08:00

I have many declarations. My long-term favorite is "He/She/It is dead to me." I can hold a grudge like a hiker holding onto a ledge. It's a real talent. But last night R. and I were gchat video chatting (I love R.; she is, quite simply, awesome) and she said, "You know what sucks about being home? I can no longer excuse things by saying, 'Ain't no shame in China.'" She's right.

"Ain't no shame in China" is a declaration I made about a year in, when I stopped being polite and started being real. (Ha! Old-school, in the house!) It became our rallying cry:

Get hooked on Gossip Girl and actually discuss it with friends? Ain't no shame in China.
Drink 120 proof Chinese liquor too quickly and puke all over your hotel room like a college kid? Ain't no shame in China.
Kiss a guy in a bar (twice! In two different bars!) you'd never have kissed in America? Ain't no shame in China.
Wear mismatched clothing and lots of cheap bling? Ain't no shame in China.
Watch a kid's goat cartoon? Ain't no shame in China.
Have a crush on someone you know is totally wrong for you? Ain't no shame in China.
Let a bowl of rice go moldy on your counter, then pick off the moldy rice and eat what's underneath? You get the idea.

No, not all of those were me, but some of them were. Ain't no shame in China!

But now that we are home, the declaration has no meaning. Actually, you SHOULD be ashamed. You're in America now, no excuses for acting culturally, socially or personally out of step. The shame, it has returned.

Time for a new declaration.

Other Ds I love:

Down comforters in soft duvets
Dancing (50% of me thinks this is the perfect night out)
Dunford chocolate cake doughnuts

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(There is this guy I so want to write about because I bet some of you can relate, but I have no idea if he still looks at this blog. Oh, the wonders of the modern world. When in doubt, I err on the side of caution. Hmmm.)

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On another note, my new job is awesome and I am so happy. I don't want to talk about it publicly because this isn't the place for it, but if you've asked, I'll send a personal email. However, I am also exhausted this week adjusting to my new routine. So forgive me if I am slow this week, next week will be much more regular, I am sure. It's a good exhausted, though.

Hope you are all doing well!

Conversations That Matter

2010-11-08T05:14:00.000-08:00

Today is my first day at my new job. This is a really good thing for me, I'm very happy about it.

Something I treasure in my friendships: good conversation. Most of my friends, the thing I remember most about them are the conversations we have. They make me laugh, think, ponder, consider, and enjoy life.

In China, I learned to appreciate good conversation because I could get around and do my daily duties, but I couldn't have in-depth conversations in Chinese; I really looked forward to and enjoyed the times I spent with other English speakers, just talking. One of my favorite nights in China was the night my girlfriends C. and E. and I hung out in a cozy Chinese bar, all soft couches and cushions and low light, talking about all the issues we face as women in China, in the world, in our own lives. I felt so supported and inspired by these ladies. R. and J. and I have had countless great talks on similar topics, and our experiences in education/jobs/relationships/living. They are all phenomenal women. There are other girls I met there I didn't get to spend a lot of time with, but what I remember about them is the interesting and wise things they had to say. I know so many phenomenal women, I am so lucky!

I remember the first time I spent time alone with T., I was pretty nervous (he knows this, I've told him) but he was so easy to talk to I immediately felt at ease. I have fond memories of putting in a movie, then shutting it off after half an hour because we were enjoying our conversation too much and not watching the movie at all. I love that my last night in Chongqing I spent just talking with V. in a really cool Irish bar downtown. It was a nice capstone to my time in China. (J. had school stuff out of town and T. and R. were traveling (separately) with visiting family or I'm sure they would have been there too.) I'm really lucky to have made so many friends in China I enjoyed talking with so much. It saved me there.

Good conversation inspires me, uplifts me, and makes me feel supported and connected with people. If I lost my ability to listen or speak, that would be a real hardship.

Other Cs I love:

Cascarones (and a woman wearing them as a hat at Fiesta in San Antonio)
Camel the color, especially for boots, coats and purses
Corn tortillas; not just a love, a dietary staple

Buddha, Bathina Body So Fine, Baths w/ Bryson

2010-11-06T13:12:00.000-07:00

I first became interested in Buddhism when I visited Thailand several years ago. Two of my favorite quotations from Buddha:

"What we think, we become."
"We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make our world."

Our minds are powerful; I'm trying to be more conscious of where I direct my thoughts and energy. I have found it is easy with practice to let go of material things, but it is tempting to me to hold on to thoughts of anger and resentment; they satisfy the ego very well. My ego struggles with letting go of these things, but slowly, slowly, I am seeing the wisdom of it. It's not my job to mete out punishment for wrongdoings. When I let go, I can move forward, and as for the other person? What will be, will be. It's actually a relief it has nothing to with me and is not my responsibility. I don't "lose" when I let go. This is what I'm working on making my ego truly believe.

I do believe when you can happily give up what matters most to you, you are truly humble, free and open. (Not there yet by a long shot!)

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Do you enjoy dry, lizardy skin? If so, skip this paragraph. Those of you who like soft, glowy skin, here is a fun body balm to try: Bathina Body So Fine. It used to look like this:

But it looks like recently they'e changed the packaging and now it looks like this:

It's a sheer, slightly shimmery, mildy scented body balm that adds a nice glow to your skin. I don't use it on my face, but it looks nice everywhere else. Lasts a long time too, I've had the same tin for the last two years. I buy it at Sephora but if you Google it, there are a lot of buying options.

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I've written about baths before, but I'm reminded now how much I love them. I really missed taking baths the two years I was away in China and sure making up for it now! You can tell a dedicated bathtub reader because our books have edges warped with steam. It's a small price to pay for the pleasure of reading in the bathtub. I've been working on my Bill Bryson books lately, he writes about terribly interesting things. My current read is Made in America, a book about the words Americans have added to English and how they came about (mostly through technology and sports, it seems). He also wrote The Mother Tongue and A Short History of Nearly Everything, two books I recommend even if you don't read them in the bathtub (although I of course recommend you do). They even make waterproof books these days, but it seems most of them are either about fishing, erotica, or for readers under the age of 3.

A few other B things I love:

Bananas

Bridges (this Brooklyn Bridge picture kinda blew me away)

Bowls on their sides

The "A's" Have It

2010-11-05T10:50:00.000-07:00

My three favorite vegetables: artichokes, asparagus, avocados*.

I learned to eat veggies from my Chilean mom, so I tend to eat them the Chilean way: steamed, with lemon juice, olive oil and salt. Some fresh garlic for the asparagus, too. Not the avocados! Those I mash up raw with lemon juice, salt, garlic powder and a bit of white cooking wine. Delicious.

I've heard of people eating artichokes with mayo or some creamy dressing, but that just sounds awful to me. Do you like it that way? I can't get up the nerve to try it.

I made artichokes yesterday for lunch and forgot about them on the stove, so the bottoms caramelized a bit. Oops. I just picked those leaves off, still delicious! I eat the hair and stem, too. The hair is my favorite part, when the artichoke is young and fresh. And swirling the heart and stem around in a little bowl of lemon juice, oil and salt, then biting in? Heaven. I make a meal of just artichokes, and I don't cut them down or make them pretty, I just steam them whole. One of my favorite meals.

* I know it's technically a fruit, whatever.

Moving Forward

2010-11-04T09:16:00.000-07:00

I was going to write today about China, but you know what? I realize my memories will never mean as much to other people as they do to me. And that's okay. I think if you've read my other posts, you have a good idea of what I loved, and what was difficult, about China.

Sometimes I miss China so much my heart aches. Sometimes I'm relieved to be back in America where I understand the culture (although this took several months-- reverse culture shock is a real thing). I'm feeling much more comfortable here.

Some big changes for me coming up. China did a good job preparing me for the rest of my life. It was a graduate course in flexibility, creativity, strength, courage, acceptance and doing things you never thought possible.

I read an analogy recently that made a lot of sense to me, so I want to share it: if you think of life like a river, a lot of us are preoccupied with where we are in the river: what we have materially, or relationships, what we've achieved or acquired. But really, what matters is the direction you're heading. If you are constantly trying to hold onto things that are not moving you forward, you are expending a lot of energy fighting the natural ebb and flow of life. What you hold onto isn't what supports you in your journey forward. But when you know what supports you, and you can let go of what you hold onto that isn't supporting you or moving you forward, you are more able to progress toward your life's goals and purpose.

So, I'm making a conscious effort to let go of the things that aren't moving me forward, that I am expending energy holding onto instead of being supported by. I wrote a list and I think every day a little bit about letting those things go. Some are mental, some are physical, but I am now focusing my attention on moving forward. So I'm going to keep more of those memories of China to myself, in my past, where they belong as a happy part of my life.

Ultimately, this picture is what China was all about for me: my students. I taught a lot of girls, and I hope they know their education means something, that they have value in this world. If they believe that, I did my job. Based on the good hearts of my students, I have high hopes for the future of China.

10 Things I Love About Life in America

2010-11-03T09:34:00.000-07:00

Three months in, a few things I love about being back in America:

1. Walking into a store that has clothes and shoes in my size, and no one telling me I am too big or fat for their store.
2. Buying produce without having to weigh it first at a chaotic produce counter where if you don't shove to the front, you never get your stuff weighed.
3. No one screaming "Hello!" in my face as I'm walking by.
4. Super clean public bathrooms!
5. Everything smells so good. (Americans are very particular about smells, aren't we?)
6. Indoor climate control everywhere you go.
7. People smile at you and hold the door*.
8. Target.
9. So much cheese!
10. No firewall, no need to censor what I'm Googling, and I can take pictures of whatever I want.**

*Stores in my part of China don't have doors, just an open wall, but no one smiles.

**In the video I posted recently of my neighborhood, you might not have noticed I was being very careful to keep the camera on my side of the street. That's because across the street was a large firehouse, which in China is a military installation. You're not allowed to photograph that kind of thing, and they had an armed military officer at all times outside the firehouse keeping guard. You always need to be careful in China where you're pointing your camera.

Tomorrow, 10 things I miss most about living in China.

Giving Back In Your Honor

2010-11-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

It is not an exaggeration to say I would not have made it through my Peace Corps experience without the support of folks back home. So many people did so much for me. I'm putting together this week care packages for Thanksgiving/Christmas for some folks over in China; it means a lot for me to be able to give back for all the kindness shown towards me. It's so fun picking stuff out, knowing it'll be a treat for them. Thanks again to everyone who supported me, with packages and warm thoughts and kind words. I'm paying it forward in your honor.

This One Time I Thought I Was Really Hot (But It Was Just The HVAC Talking)

2010-11-02T01:10:00.000-07:00

Back in San Antonio, my friend Stacey had asked me to pick her up from the airport. It was full summer, and for those of you who haven't been in San Antonio in the summertime, you know that expression 'hot as an oven'? Well, I like to say San Antonio summers are 'hot as downwind from an exhaust pipe.' (Which means when you actually are downwind from an exhaust pipe, things get really unpleasant.) It's quite common for there to be a temperature difference of 35-40 degrees between indoor and outdoor air during a San Antonio summer. True story: I had a small heater at my work desk and turned it on in the summer, not winter, because the air conditioning was on so high in our building I froze to death at my desk.

So anyway, I go straight from the gym to the airport to pick up Stacey. It's 10 pm but still around 100 degrees outside. Inside, it's a balmy 60 or so. Gotta give those tourists a false sense of comfort! I'm pacing a bit in the baggage area waiting for her to arrive and I notice people (read: men) are staring at me. Hmmm...did the gym suddenly transform me into a super hot girl? I guess so! I was in my standard gym attire of black yoga pants, black sports bra and sheer white fitted t-shirt, sweaty skin and hair. I guess this outfit was much more sexy than I thought! I wander for another 10 minutes or so (lots of stares, I'm pretty hot stuff in the San Antonio airport!), when I decide it's just too cold in there for me and I'm going to go wait outside in the heat. I hit the full-glass automatic door and catch a glimpse of myself: yup, it sure is COLD in there alright! These weren't headlights, these double high-beams. Haha, it takes so little to be so "hot."

I was reminded of this the night in China I went running at a friend's school track and it started to rain (story of life in Chongqing, the Seattle of China) and I headed back inside to his apartment. Similar attire as at the airport. This time I caught a glimpse of myself in his apartment building's glass doors and knew what was going on, but also knew there was nothing I could do about it. Oh well. He did a very gentlemanly job of quickly glancing away, then offered for me to stay the night (completely platonically) because it was raining hard and I didn't have an umbrella. In the morning, he said, "It's still raining; do you want this extra umbrella?" I remember thinking,"Wait-- why didn't you give me the extra umbrella last night?" Such is the power of cold air; he completely forgot about his extra umbrella!

"The Girl" and Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Soap

2010-11-01T09:29:00.000-07:00

In Chongqing there aren't many foreigners compared to other big, populated in cities in China. This led to 'Panda Syndrome': we were often treated like special pandas at the zoo. Sounds nice, but really? It's not. I learned I could never handle being famous.

One night a few of us Americans were having dinner with some Chinese students. They made a dish for us called 'hui guo rou' known in English as 'twice-cooked pork.' Someone asked what the dish was called and I answered with the correct name. The students started teasing him for not knowing the name and then one of the students said, "The girl knew what it was." The girl? The girl teacher? The girl version of an American? The girl what? It bothered me at the time because it was a bit dehumanizing and I was fighting for every bit of my humanity, but now it's kinda funny. Of course the guys who were there started calling me The Girl. It ended one night at dinner when J. was trying to pay for our meals: "Come on, at least let me look cool in front of The Girl." I put my foot down, no more calling me The Girl! I hated that nickname. POSTCRIPT: After reading your comments, I feel like kind of a jerk for thinking this way!

Then this past summer when I went to visit T. at the teaching project, I found out after I left the students asked, "Is the girl coming back?" Sigh. So now I choose to believe this was their way of saying I was special. After all, I never heard anyone say "The Boy." Yeah, special.
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A product I love: Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap. I love it so much I packed a bottle to China with me. A little bit goes a long way; I had to throw it out when I came home, I didn't even use it all. I have eczema, so I steer clear of soaps and detergents (whenever possible) that irritate my skin. I bought a small foaming handsoap pump, dumped out the soap that came with it and mixed up my own soapy mixture with Dr. Bronner's. They also sell it in bar form. The liquid version is very inexpensive because it lasts so long. $6 for two years worth of soap is quite a deal! It's a hippie soap with all kinds of kookie writing on the bottles, but it's a good product. I recommend it.

Youngest and Oldest Kids: Adventures of the Chongqing Nanny

2010-10-30T11:36:00.000-07:00

I get along well with youngest children; most of my best friends and men I've been out with are youngest kids. I'm an oldest, so perhaps it's just an easy paradigm to fall into. My second year, most of the new volunteers assigned to Chongqing were guys. (New volunteers arrive every July; because we serve for two years, you serve with a different group your first and second years.) And almost all of them were youngest children.

Because I'd already been in Chongqing a year when the new volunteers arrived, I was happy to take on the role of 411 if they needed it. I told them about getting around the city and food and shopping and whatever else they needed to know. But then I started getting calls from restaurants, asking me to talk to their server to order their dinner. One of the girls sometimes called me and she was always "Hey, can you help me out? I've tried and it's not working." But the boys were like, "Hi, order my food, 'k thanks bye." I started to get annoyed by the boys. I started to feel like I wasn't their friend, I was their nanny. On the one hand, it was flattering they thought I knew so much. On the other hand, I'm not your mom. It's funny now to me how easy it was for us to fall into this pattern, because both sides were willing to take on the role of youngest/oldest. (Yes, I am stereotyping-- not all youngest or oldest kids act like this. But we did.)

I finally told them I felt like their nanny, not their friend, and I didn't like that. They started making an effort to make sure they knew I was their friend first, nanny second (haha), balance restored. Even now I sometimes still get emails asking for help with something Chongqing-related. I'm happy to help out. And they taught me more about being very laid-back, carefree and fun-loving. Youngest and oldest: it's a dynamic that works.

Happy Halloween! Hope you have a great time. Be safe! Here's a picture from last year I don't think I've shared before. He didn't know what to be for Halloween, so like a good nanny I took him in at the last minute, gave him my Chinese silk dragon robe, cut off the sleeves of this t-shirt, blew dry his just-washed gym shorts with my hair-dryer and gave him a (make-up based) black eye. I also taped up his hands but it disappeared by the time this picture was taken. I had to rush him past the guards outside my apartment because at the time they were still housing swine flu quarantinees in my building. But look at him: would YOU mess with this boxer? I still love the memory of us trying to get a taxi in our Halloween getups. Crazy Americans.

Quiet Time and Meditation

2010-10-28T23:06:00.000-07:00

What do you do for quiet time?

I like my quiet time very early in the morning. In China I had the habit of waking up verrry early because the birds that lived in the bamboo growing outside my window also got up early. Older people did daily tai chi in the courtyard outside my apartment at the break of dawn. I loved seeing their quiet, uniform movements. It inspired me to find quiet time of my own.

I began the habit of sitting quietly every morning on my mat, thinking about what was important to me that day and what I wanted myself to know. I hesitate to call it 'meditation' because I wasn't trying to clear my mind, have some kind of experience in enlightenment, etc. I just wanted to focus my energies and be aware of what I was bringing into myself in the best way possible.

Now that I am home, I've had more time to focus on this process. I downloaded some podcasts about meditation that focus on breathing and relaxation. I've been reading a book my good friend J. sent me about forgiveness of yourself and others, and being positive. It sounds new age-y, but it's an important message. I started paying attention to the messages I send myself, and so many of them were negative. I've made a conscious effort to change that. I guess I always felt if I weren't really hard on myself, I wouldn't be a better person? I'm realizing that when you send yourself positive messages, you feel inspired to change things in a positive way. Positive reinforcement works with yourself, too!

Focused quiet time to reflect isn't easy. It requires you to give up a lot of your own ego. That has been the hardest part for me. Often I cry after this kind of meditation, but I think it's a good thing; it's releasing all those hard feelings I've had for myself and others for so long. If you don't have quiet time for yourself now, I challenge you to start taking 1 minute, then 2 minutes, and so on, and think about what message you want yourself to know. You are really smart, incredible people. I hope you all believe that about yourself.

Dill Pickle Chips, Spicy Dumpling Soup, and Halloween Memories

2010-10-28T05:00:00.000-07:00

I love dill pickle flavored potato chips. If you haven't tried them, I recommend them highly. My favorite are Canadian brands, but Lays are okay too. I'm a big fan of the pickle in general, claussen's are good. Every year in my stocking I used to get a jar of baby dills I didn't have to share. My favorite part was drinking the juice and garlic pieces when they were gone. Yeah, I'm kinda gross.
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But this is good, I promise! Sichuan-style dumpling soup. Here's how I make it:

2 cups chicken broth
A few splashes of sesame oil
A few more splashes of soy sauce
about a teaspoon of hot chili oil (not that sweet stuff, the darker hot stuff)
red pepper flakes
chopped green onions
a few frozen dumplings (I used 6)
Fresh greens (spinach or any other fresh weedy green)

Combine everything except the greens, boil until the dumplings are cooked, then add the greens for a minute or two, just enough to cook them down. Here's what it looks like when it's done:

It's kind of spicy, so if you don't like spice, delete the chili oil and/or the pepper flakes. I have a tolerant tongue, so I like mine really spicy.

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Halloween! What a fun holiday. I've been thinking about some of my best, and worst, Halloweens. One of my most memorable was a year I was a cat. (This is my go-to costume because it is easy and comfy.) I was driving home around 4:30 AM from my friend's party and remembered my friends Nate and Brett were coming over the next morning for Sunday brunch. I don't drink milk, so I stopped at the all-night grocery to get some for them. I only wanted a little container but couldn't find the whole milk they like. So I'm standing in front of the milk case at the store, staring at all the milk, and a stock boy comes over. We have the following conversation:

"Can I help you?"
"Do you have any little containers of whole milk? I can't find it."
"....Are you being for real?"

Then I remember I'm dressed like a cat. HAHAHAHAHA. Halloween is funny.

Holding Hands, Holding Arms, Hold My Drink

2010-10-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

This is me, my Chinese host mom (I lived with a host family my first two months in China) and the 15 year-old daughter of a family friend. It was quite common for us to be introduced to family friends so the kids could practice their English. I just met her that evening, but it's tradition in China for girls to hold hands, so she held my hand. I thought it was very sweet. You'll notice I'm not holding Mama's hand (the Chinese word for mom is 'Mama' so that's what I called her), but instead linking my arm. I always felt there was a social protocol for holding hands vs. linking arms; hands meant you were more friendly, while holding arms was a sign of respect. Friends can also link arms, but I would never have held Mama's hand. I have no idea if this is actually true in Chinese culture, it's just what I picked up and felt comfortable with.

This was a very hot and humid August night; looking at that photo, I can feel all over again the sweat dripping through my clothes.

And here I am with Mama's mama, host grandma. She was darling, as you can see. The guy in the picture is another volunteer; he came the year after I did and lived with the same host family. I came back to visit and we all went out to dinner. Again with the sweating! You can see it in both of us, but grandma looks cool and collected. I don't know how she did it. I hardly ever wore makeup on days like these, it just all dripped off within an hour. So, now you know what I look like make-up free.

Just before I left China, Mama's older sister told me, "Your skin is very beautiful now." Translation: your skin has gotten much fairer. It's true that I did get much lighter. Here's a picture from soon after I arrived in China (I'm 4th from the right):

And here's one about a year and a half in:

That's what living in a factory city with no sunshine does to you, but I'm happy to report my freckles have made a comeback since I've been home. Every day I walk out into fresh air and sunshine, I stop and appreciate it. I hope I don't stop doing that.

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I was reminiscing recently with a friend from college about a guy I had a very up-and-down relationship with, in all it's Freshman year volatileness. One time, we were in line for lunch and I asked him to hold my drink, then went to work. (I'd like to think I just lost track of time, but it's possible I lost track of time AND wanted to mess with him.) Another night we were all at a party and I asked him, "Will you hold this for me?", handed him my drink, then left the party. I heard later it took awhile before he realized I wasn't coming back. But one night I came out of my apartment and there were about a 100 plastic cups on the ground filled with water and a sign that said, "Becca will you hold these for me?" We had been fighting, and that was his apology, and it was pretty damn cute. I melted. Man, I was a dork when I was 18.

Bridges, Garbage and Rats

2010-10-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

I've been sorting through old pictures from my travels; lots of pictures of bridges and buildings. You know those job/skill aptitude tests you can take? I always got my highest score in 'spatial relations', which I've thought is a pretty lame thing to have high skill in-- so I can figure out where things should go in space, big deal! Although it does probably explain my love of bridges, because bridges are inherently rather spatial, no? I found shots a friend had sent me of NYC bridges and other scenic shots; I won't post them here because they're not mine to post, but they still bring me so much joy. Maybe I'm austistic, y'all, and bridges are my thing?

From looking at old pictures, I've noticed my perspective on what constitutes 'clean and nice and inviting' has drastically changed. For example, I took this photo in Manhattan because at the time I thought, "Wow, look at all that garbage on the street!

And now I think, "Wow, look at all that garbage neatly tied up in bags and stacked for removal. It looks so nice!"

I saw this alley and thought it looked like a sad, dirty little alley; now I see it and think it wouldn't be a bad place to sit and grab a quick meal of noodles out of the hustle and bustle of the main street. Yes, I would eat in there.

It's interesting how our perspectives can change like that.

I also came across this picture; I know it's a bit morbid, but this little baby rat in the middle of the sidewalk made me a little sad. The sadness of death unnoticed. Maybe I'm the only one who will notice this little rat died in the middle of a busy Bronx neighborhood. (This was a few months after my father died, so that probably had something to do with it.) I tend to have a world view that we are all connected, and I have a soft spot for little animals. Their vulnerability reminds me of how much I am grateful for.

I hope you all have a great weekend! I'm going on a brief hiatus, see you again in a few days.

Fish Sellers and My Block in Chongqing (Yangjiaping)

2010-10-19T15:01:00.000-07:00

I’m going through pictures and videos I took while in China, and I’ll be posting the ones that I think share a lot about what it was like to live in China and Chongqing and that I hope will be of some interest to you. They’re all short videos, 2 minutes or less.

This first one was a common sight on the sidewalk at night; small sidewalk restaurants sold fresh fish pan-broiled in hot spices with veggies. As you can see, there is a basin of oxygenated water keeping the fish alive. You pick out the fish you want and the guy weighs it on the scale; you pay by weight. As you can also see, the fish was flopping around too much. It really shocked me to see this the first few times, and then I got used to it. When he chucks it down the sidewalk, he’s throwing it to the person who will cook it. I know we think it’s gross to kill and eat meat on the spot, but without access to good refrigeration, this was the safest way to eat meat in China for a long time, and now it’s tradition.

This second video is of the block where I lived; it begins as I step through the main gate where my apartment was located, and continues to the end of the block. The thing I remember most is all the noise of this street. This was during the lunch/naptime block, so there were fewer people on the street.

This block is where I caught buses to go to the train station, bus station and to V's house and the entertainment/shopping district of Shapingba, where a few other friends lived. (I had to cross the street and walk a ways further to take buses to R.'s and T.'s homes.) This block is also where I bought beauty items, tea drinks, street snacks and other misc. items. Crossing at the end of the block led to the subway station and the Yangjiaping (my 'hood) main entertainment/shopping district, where we went for the big grocery store, bank, movies and nicer restaurants. I spent a considerable amount of time walking this stretch of my city, and I made friends with some of the sellers who set up on this block.

If you have any questions about anything you see in the videos, please ask and I will answer in the comments.

Traditional Chinese Comb Gift, Neat Thermos

2010-10-18T12:10:00.000-07:00

I didn't know before I lived in China that wooden combs are a traditional gift to give to girls/women, especially as a goodbye gift.

At the tourist neighborhood of CiQiKou in my city, there were shops selling decorative wooden combs and hairpins, but I didn't think much of them, I thought it was just a tourist trap item. But in the days before I left Chongqing, I received several nice wooden combs as a going away gift.

They’re made of wood and painted with enamel. All the combs I received came in these nice boxes and were made by the same company; I’m not sure if this company is well-known for combs, or if they are the ones who sell in my area of China. One student wrote cute little messages for me all over on the box itself:

The combs are often stylized, such as this yellow comb I use on a daily basis and is carved to look like a fish:

All of the female volunteers I know were given combs as gifts, so I think it’s a pretty common practice, but one I’d never heard of. I asked someone why a comb was a traditional gift and she said, “Because it’s useful and beautiful.” Yes, they are both of these things! I find the wood makes my hair look more smooth than using a plastic comb, too.

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My Chinese friend Cassie gave me this neat little pale pink/gray thermos as a going away gift; she knows I took a liking to the Chinese custom of drinking hot water and tea, so this was a really thoughtful gift. It’s extremely lightweight, well-sized for your hand and the thermos lid has this neat screw-off compartment for holding dry tea, instant coffee or any kind of mixer. Ingenious! It’s made by Tayohya, but I couldn’t find any stores selling these in the U.S. online. Maybe in Chinatown I’ll come across one. I use it constantly, it’s very well-suited to being carried around.

Gratitude And Socks

2010-10-16T17:32:00.000-07:00

You guys, let me be honest for a minute: the past month has been tough.

I gave up my apartment in San Antonio to go to China, and just before leaving I moved all my stuff to my mom’s. So that’s where I am while I job search, at my mom’s. This is not a bad thing at all; I’m closer to my brother and sister and extended family, and my mom is easy to live with. BUT, it’s certainly not where I want or expected to be. I’ve had to change my attitude the past week or so; I’m choosing to be grateful for gifts and opportunities I have in my life right now, rather than focus on what (I think) I lack. One of the great things is that my mom lives in a colder climate than San Antonio, so I get to indulge my love of socks.

I LOVE socks—cute and versatile and less expensive than buying shoes and purses. In San Antonio I hardly ever got to wear socks because it’s just too warm most of the year; I had an extensive collection of chanclas, but hardly any socks.

In Chongqing, I wore tall socks all winter long because it was so bitingly wet and cold and I didn’t have indoor heat. My sister sent me some great thigh-high gray socks, and I had a nice collection of argyle over-the-knee socks. It was popular in Chongqing to wear thick ‘skin colored’ (meaning, Han skin coloring) footless tights with socks over the top; I did this look with skirts and chunky heels mostly:

I wore through most of my socks and threw them away when I was packing to come back. Now, with winter approaching, I get to replace them!

Some of my favorite socks I get at REI; Smartwool socks are very warm and long-lasting—these were the only socks I took with me to China that made it back with me. I highly recommend them, and they come in both cute and functional. This pair is now on my wish list:

You can see some more here.

The Joy of Socks and Amazon also carry great over-the-knee and knee-high socks. Target, too, but I couldn’t find any online today.

Happy socking!

Shanghai Pictures, Plus When The Care Bears Go Too Far

2010-10-14T14:59:00.000-07:00

I found some pictures from Shanghai I never posted, thought some of you might enjoy seeing them. They are all cell phone pics, though, so not super high quality.

A hot water dispenser, very common in China. The Chinese characters say 'caution scalding', meaning scalding water, but the English 'care bear!'?? I can't even call this Chinglish or a mistranslation, this is just a joke someone played, right?

British style telephone booth, a cultural relic of the British occupation of Shanghai I assume. I was amazed how clean and empty the sidewalks of Shanghai were, compared to Chongqing:

An apartment courtyard; this picture makes me so homesick:

Little places to grab a cup of afternoon tea or coffee.

An aquarium in the pedestrian tunnel. I remember thinking how fancy Shanghai is compared to Chongqing, based on the underground tunnels alone. Wouldn't it be cool if your job was to take care of pedestrian tunnel aquariums?

In contrast, this is what I saw most nights on the sidewalk outside my gate in Chongqing. My taxi pulled up to this:

Blessings and Curses

2010-10-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

Do you have things in your life that you sometimes feel are both a blessing and a curse?

For example, I am very sensitive emotionally. I think the shyness I struggle with is a part of this, like a light shining too brightly in your eyes. But I also think being emotionally sensitive is what makes me a good teacher; I can ‘read’ the emotions of my students very quickly, and adjust my teaching style/lesson/topic for their benefit. On the curse side, sometimes I take things too hard or too personally, and it’s difficult for me to see objectively others’ intentions. On the blessing side, I think it helps me be a good friend, because I am sensitive to my friends’ needs.

I have noticed that I gravitate toward people who are far less sensitive than I am. I believe in the principle of yin and yang, that there is a balance to interactions that can benefit both sides. My best friend in high school was a cheerleader, something I would have found intolerable, but she was great at it. My friend FloJo is a great balance and flat out tells me when I am being a little emotional about something. I’ve learned to trust her barometer. One of the things I always appreciated about my friend T. is that he would talk to everyone we had to interact with, I never had to talk to strangers if I didn't want to when I was with him. He has a fearlessness I admire a lot.

I feel like part of the challenge of humanity is learning to balance who we are, to let both the blessing and the curse sides teach us something about ourselves, and how our strengths can benefit others. What have you learned?

Heroes, Rogues and Lovers

2010-10-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

Something short to offset the long post beneath this one. A favorite quotation from the book Heroes, Rogues and Lovers*:

“She says it is unfortunate that women find rash men so appealing, but they do, and it is because women know in their secret hearts that men who won’t kill for them are useless.”

It's not a favorite quotation because I necessarily think it's true, but because it sort of explains the whole Indiana Jones thing, doesn't it? It’s true that I usually choose the men I date because they are thoughtful, kind and fun but also tough, intelligent men of action. And they are each of these things in a way I’m comfortable with. But kill for me? That sounds extreme. Consciously, no, I don't expect that. Millions of years of biological influence into choosing a reproduction mate? Hmmm... the question of nature vs. nurture is fascinating to me. Especially when it relates to attraction and who we choose to invest in.

But on the other hand, there's this:

*This is a non-fiction book about the effects of testosterone on men and women. Pretty interesting read, if you’re into social science stuff.

Paul Revere and Waterproof Mascara: A Favorite Travel Memory

2010-10-09T18:29:00.000-07:00

Note: this is a bit longer than most of my entries; it's something I wrote for an essay compilation a few years back. I hope it makes you laugh a bit. Hope you all have had a great weekend!

A couple of years ago I was in Washington, D.C. visiting my cousin at Georgetown University and staying in the fabulous old-school townhouse he shared with five other guys. I had a friend with me and it was her first time in D.C., so on a Saturday the lot of us loaded up and went to Mt.Vernon, George Washington’s home, now a museum with various living displays of How Things Used To Be. Along for the ride were three of their female friends, Tiwi, Kiwi and Regan. (I can't remember Tiwi and Kiwi's real names, but my cousin called them Tiwi and Kiwi, so I do, too.)

We had been at Mt. Vernon only a short while when a big storm blew in off the Atlantic, complete with tornado/severe thunderstorm/hail warnings etc. We were informed by bullhorn they were shutting down Mt. Vernon and we were to leave ASAP. (As an aside, I’m terrified of tornadoes; I was in one while living in Memphis, it went right over the top of my car on an expressway, with tree limbs hitting the shaking car, lightening bugs coming out midday it was so dark, that sort of thing. Terrifying. So I hear the word "tornado," I’m outta there, no questions asked.) All the tourists are running for their cars as the sheeting rain starts pouring down on us and at that moment we remember: Kiwi has locked the keys in her car, an old, decrepit Honda Civic hatchback. We knew just after we arrived that she had done this, but we had a cell phone and a Triple A membership, so we thought it was no big deal and we'd take care of it when we were leaving. This was before the Doom of God started rolling in.

We’ve arrived in several cars so there's no reason we can’t just leave it/them behind, but I guess we were in a patriotic ‘all for one, one for all’ spirit. Most of the guys, along with Kiwi and Tiwi, went back to the car to try to break in, so there are three of us huddled under an overhang at the main building, the wind blowing rain into our faces, trying to convince Triple A to rescue us. But they need an address to dispatch someone. Wha’?? An address? It’s Mt. Vernon! I try telling the phone girl I don’t have an address, it’s Mt. Vernon for heaven’s sake, everyone just knows where it is, we’re in that huge circular driveway out front, please come help us. (I was saying it in a nice way, of course.) But no dice: no street address, no dispatch. And a worker is shooing us out of the overhang to boot.

I head to the gift shop, getting drenched and blown to bits, trying to find anything that might have their street address on it, while the Triple A girl is trying to hang up on me. Nope, nothing but PO boxes. And the sales girl is trying to lock up, she couldn’t care less about the address. “It’s just Mt. Vernon,” she tells me. I know! Evidently everyone but Triple A knows this! I finally concede to phone girl, we have no address, and hang up. I’m pretty sure the phone is going to croak by now anyway, due to the rain-soaking it has received.

We head back to the car, hail dripping out of my hair, watching my cousin’s roommate trying in vain to pop the door locks. I explain that Triple A won’t come because we don’t have an address. One of the roommates is from Brooklyn, born and raised. He’s hilarious, he’s been cracking us up this whole trip, and he yells out in frustration in his heavy Brooklyn accent, “What’s the deal with the A A A?” But instead of calling it Triple A like every other person I’ve ever met, he calls out all the letters, “Ay Ay Ay.” I think it’s the accent that gets me, or perhaps I am delirious from the wet, and I can’t help, I crack up and can’t stop. This lightens the mood and we finally concede we’re screwed as far as Triple A is concerned, we’re gonna have to leave it behind and squish into the other cars. (Steve’s line would become our second-favorite quotation of the day.)

Just as we are splitting up into the other cars, a guy walks up. “You need some help??” I turn around, and he’s obviously an employee on his way home because he’s dressed in full Colonial Era regalia, right down to the breeches and colonial hat. Hot damn, Paul Revere is going to save us! Could this outing get any more absurd? He has a hanger in his car (of course he does, to hang up the uniform) and goes to work. But, still no luck. By this point we are soaked to the skin, my hair is heavy with little bits of hail, and thanks anyway Paul Revere, I just wanna go home. Suddenly I hear a slew of profanity such as I don’t think anyone from the Colonial Era ever imagined. I turn to get a closer look at what he’s staring at through the car window: a latch on the floor that pops the hatchback. He slides the hanger in through the window, pops the floor latch, and we’re in! Paul Revere saves the day! Again!

A couple of hours later we are safely ensconced at the townhouse, showered, sipping hot chocolate, hair finally drying, Kiwi and Tiwi and Regan long gone. Shooter (another roommate, real name forgotten) finally gets a chance to tell us that when he and Regan heard the bullhorn announcement, she immediately stopped in her tracks. “Dammit!” Shooter thinks she’s now realizing, like the rest of us did, that we have a torrential storm approaching and a car with no keys. But no. “ Dammit! I should have worn waterproof mascara!” (Hence Steve’s quotation being only the second-favorite of the day.)

It became a big inside joke; when something starts going really wrong, you say “I should have worn waterproof mascara!” I love this travel memory because even when everything IS going wrong, there is always a reason to laugh. It just helps if you have Paul Revere and a guy from Brooklyn along for the ride. And waterproof mascara.

My American Bed, With Chinese Characteristics

2010-10-07T10:09:00.000-07:00

I had a great bed before I went to China-- a deep pillow top, to which I later added a tempurpedic foam topper. Ahh... like sleeping on a cloud.

Chinese beds are usually one piece, not two, and therefore quite a bit more firm and less cozy. It's not exactly like sleeping on a box spring, because there is a thin layer of padding, but it's close. At first these beds felt really uncomfortable, but give yourself two years, you get accustomed to things you never imagined you could. Here's my apartment bed; it's a little hard to tell, but I had a box platform, then the boxspring style mattress on top of that.

I liked these box bed platforms, I imagined they were a design relic of the traditional 'kang' bed, where hot coals were placed in the box's empty space to heat the bed overnight. Believe me, with no indoor heat, I would've loved a kang bed!

Here's a bed at our favorite hostel in Chengdu. You can see the wood plank and thin mattress we slept on, and it's actually quite comfortable, I slept very well on this bed. (Not my legs, btw.)

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So, now I'm back in America, back to a big fluffy American bed...and it was really, really difficult for me to sleep on. My back and neck hurt all the time. I finally had to admit: my big American bed is now too darn soft and cloud-like. So this week I gave in to my Chinese characteristics and removed the top mattress, and I'm back to sleeping on just the box spring, with a foam topper. Ahh...so firm and familiar! And no more back aches.

Next time I have a sleepover, I guess it will need to be someone familiar with Chinese-style beds.