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

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.

My Stripper Days, Plus Dancing Bebe(s)

So, true story: when I was around 7-8 years old I thought stripping was the best thing ever. I wanted to be a stripper when I grew up, and I used to put on my dad's soundtrack to The Sting, crank up Hooker's Hooker, put on all the clean clothes from the laundry room and play stripper for hours in the living room. (I always stopped at my own clothes! I only took off the extra laundry!) My parents, being the laid-back parents they are, didn't freak out or chasten me for playing stripper. In fact, I don't remember them ever saying anything to me about it, ever. And one day, I just stopped thinking I wanted to be a stripper. Please note that at age 8, I had only a marginal idea of what strippers actually did; I thought it was just wearing pretty clothes and dancing, two things I still think are pretty awesome.

As an adult, I asked my dad why he never told me to stop playing stripper or to stop saying that when I grew up, I wanted to be a stripper. And my dad told me, "I knew you'd grow up and realize there was more to you than that."

I was a dancer from the time I was could walk. I try to tell people, it's in the gene pool; Latin babies just know how to dance. (For those that don't know, my mom is Chilean. And she was a Chilean pop star when she was a teenager. I should write about that sometime.) And here is proof:



If you haven't seen it yet, it's worth a watch; this kid is something else!

Remembering Dad

March 2nd is my dad’s birthday. (I use the word ‘is’ not ‘was’ because I decided dying doesn’t cancel your birth.) When I was in the U.S., I stayed the night with my step-mom in their house. It was hard to be so reminded of him. The things I inherited from him are currently in storage. It reminded me it’s going to still be hard to go through all those things, even three years later.

My step-sister made this photo collage of my dad with pictures of him and his grandchildren. I thought it was really beautiful and want to share it with those of you who knew my dad. Those of you who didn’t know him, maybe now you will “know” him a little. (Click to enlarge)



March 11th is the anniversary of his death. It is hard not to think about all the days leading up to the day: the last meal, the last time he was coherent, the last words we said to each other. They've been on my mind a lot lately, as well as all of the repercussions of that day. I’m still trying to make sense of them. In some things I have found a measure of peace, but other things are still tough. My consolation is that I learned to be a stronger, and I hope, a more empathetic person.

Chinglish Notebooks, Plus Time and Happiness

I love the notebooks in China. I don't know why, but almost all of them have some kind of Chinglish phrase on the cover. Here are a few I saw in a school supply shop near my campus:

I love the 'My baby grows up in this way' tagline:

For when you need to announce your life strategy: 'I never really try to be positive.'

Nothing says 'Season's Greeting' like a stack of folded towels. Btw, a candle that close to the towels is a fire hazard.

'Goes the sound which the balcony listens to spend.' HUH?

No really, I love these. But this one is still my all time favorite:

In other news, I have to go out of town to this weekend for a medical test. I have two spots on my back that keep scabbing over and won't heal, so I have to get them checked out. Sunshine, I love you so much, why do you hurt me like this?

And in still further news, I only have 9 months left in China. 9 months! Where has the time gone? I feel like I have survived a lot the past few years: my dad's cancer and death, the guy who crushed me, and just the experience of living here in China. I almost feel like because I survived these things so close together, and can still smile, I can survive anything. (I don't want to test that theory, though!) I hope the next few years bring more joy than sorrow. Pretty please, with sugar on top?

Family

The other day I was really wishing I could talk to my dad about something that happened here, because I thought he'd be interested in it. And a few days later, I had a dream I went to his office but he wasn't there; I left a note. I kinda like thinking that my dad knows when I want to talk to him. Maybe he gets the 'notes.' And since we both loved The Daily Show and Colbert Report, I still sometimes want to send him clips of funny moments like we used to do. I wonder if he misses that too.

I don't get homesick too often here, but sometimes I do feel like I'm missing out on things back home. My awesome step-mom and step-siblings, who have been so supportive and are good friends. Their kids are  getting older, wiser and more fun, and I wonder if the little ones will remember me when I get back.  I miss my grandma, who has health problems. Every time I call her, she says, "I'm going to try to live until you come home again." I always tell her, "Grandma, you'll live a long time yet!" But I'm ready to get on the next plane every time she says it. I miss my awesome cousins and their cute kids.

And my brother and sister, who are the funniest people I know. I just know they are having all kinds of fun without me! And my mom, who after getting past her initial concern with my decision, has been incredibly supportive and really made it possible for me to be here with very few worries about my furniture, car, student loan, etc.

My family, it is not your everyday nuclear family (whose is anymore?) but it is an awesome family, all of them. I love them.

The Gifts Of Time, Peace and Confidence

The short story is, I joined the Peace Corps because my dad died. I needed something to do. I thought helping others was a good way to find myself again. And, quite honestly, because I had no idea what else to do. I applied two months after my dad died, and later found out the Peace Corps will officially not consider you if you've experienced a close death within the past year. I guess they really needed to fill this position, though, because here I am.

Because of grief, my self-esteem was very low. In some cases, I turned to the wrong things for comfort. I've had to deal with some tough dependencies. I made mistakes. Not legal or moral mistakes, but mistakes toward myself. One thing I did was offend my own self-worth by letting someone treat me badly. I realize now that whatever made it okay in his mind for him to treat me this way has nothing to do with me. If my self-esteem had been normal, things would have been different, but I was doing the best I could at the time. And in a way, I have him to thank for the wake-up call for how poorly I was treating myself. I might not have worked to recover my self-esteem if it weren't for him. I think time is also healing these grief wounds. I'm grateful for time.

Was it a mistake to join the Peace Corps when I did? Time will answer that question. But caring for these kids has helped me see I still have a lot to give. I love being a teacher. I have a renewed sense of confidence in myself because I've survived these difficult circumstances. Yes, my dad died. It still hurts terribly at times. I still cry sometimes. I'll miss him all my life. But life is not over. This Peace Corps experience has given me some peace and confidence back. I thank China.

Sleepy Girls On The Subway

I love how the mom is holding her daughter's head up. I wonder if that was comfortable?  Before I took this picture, her brother (on the left) kept trying to pat her face. She pitched a fit and his mom yelled at him to leave her alone. It's funny how kids are the same all over the world.

I also love this pic because it reminds of me when I'd fall asleep next to my dad on the D.C. Metro and he'd carry me home. Sometimes I was just pretending to be asleep so I didn't have to walk. I think he knew.

Reminders

I had a blog that I kept for my family when I lived in Texas, and my dad used to leave comments on it. After he died, I couldn't bear to delete the blog, but I couldn't bear to write on it anymore, either. Too many memories. I still have the blog, but it's set to private. Sometimes I still go and read his comments, even though reading them makes me sad. I really miss him. 

Painting, In Memory Of My Father

The hospital where my father was treated for cancer, Hunstman Cancer Institute, has an artwork donation program. A few weeks ago my stepmom and my sister picked out a painting to buy and donate to the hospital in my father's name. (The hospital pre-approves artwork; they chose one by artist Minerva Teichert.) While I was home, we were notified the painting had been hung in the Special Care Unit wing where my father had been treated. We stopped by to see it in its new home. My father loved the outdoors, so I'm glad they chose an outdoor scene. I think he'd really like it. A small plaque will be added below the painting identifying it as being in his memory.

It was a little strange going back to the hospital after spending so much time there while he was being treated, but it was good, too. A bit of closure. 

Graham Crackers and Milk

Take a drinking glass, fill it with broken (not crushed) pieces of graham crackers, pour in cold milk and eat it with a spoon. (My dad taught me to make this long before Golden Grahams hijacked it.) One of my favorite treats, and an awesome bedtime snack. I also love graham crackers and cream cheese frosting sandwiches. Basically you can never go wrong with graham crackers.

I think it tastes best with plain grahams, not the cinnamon or chocolate variety.

Other yummy snacks my parents would make us:

-a smashed banana, sugar and milk in a glass, eaten with a spoon

-maple snow (fresh snow mixed with maple syrup and cream)

Stripper Music

When I was a little kid, I loved my dad's old records. The Sting was a favorite, especially the track Hooker's Hooker, a classic striptease song. I would put on layers and layers of clothes and play "stripper" in the living room. (NOTE: I was always fully dressed underneath and remained so.) I didn't understand what strippers did in a larger context, but I thought they were beautiful and got to dance to the best music! (It's funny to me now my parents never said anything to me about my "game.")

I still love classic stripper music. My friend J. in Texas introduced me to this great compilation, Take It Off!. (J's house is decked out like a 60's Rat Pack martini bar, my favorite house to play at by far. Those of you who have seen the picture of me on the bed under the mirrored ceiling? J's bedroom.) It's a lot of fun to listen to, as well as a great dancing/workout CD. Try it! (Samples here as well. I especially like track 8.)