So I Moved to China

I’m a little behind on here. Clearly. Some of you are like what, wait, you’re where? You did what? Well you’re probably not actually surprised. I know, I know, my communication and publication has been, haphazard. So moving on.

I moved to Shanghai, China. I’m also teaching here. And while I’m excited, and as it’s my second international move so I’m a little less green – China is a completely different animal. Training wheels off. Was that guy riding by on the motorbike holding up his IV fluid? He was? Well at least he wasn’t driving? It’s like Thailand level of what on Earth, but a lot more, brusque. At the same time – even more hiso (high society, a shortened Thaiglish word that has permanently wedged itself into my vocabulary) here in Shanghai than Bangkok. Well duh. Oh wait training wheels segue…

Unless you are talking about rollerblades. You see the other day I went looking to buy a refrigerator, as you do when you move to China and an unfurnished apartment, and I came home with roller blades instead. The ultimate class distinction problem. Oh I cannot refrigerate my food, I shall recreationally roll around asphalt on wheeled shoes instead.

The benefit of this, as opposed to running, is that you’re working the majority of your leg muscles without overly exerting your plantar fascia tendon. English please? You don’t have to bend your feet up and down. This is very important when you spent the last year hardly being able to walk properly after tearing and/or straining said tendon.

I have been waking up at 4:40 am frequently. Partially because the entire country of China uses one time zone; and we are in the east (duly noted that the west has late sunsets instead). But also because I lack curtains for the time being.

Since currently our work days are shortened I’ve used this to take advantage of my new roller blades twice this week. On the first occasion, remembering I have not in fact rollerbladed since sixth grade; wiping out on our apartment ramp with our garbage, wiping up when I saw a woman walking a sort of Yorkshire terrier and I leaned back in the slightest and fell smack dab on my butt, and towards the end of my fifth lap when I thought only two wipe outs I can do a sixth lap and I promptly collapsed into a bush. Ok, fine, no more today.

I am back from my go this morning, during which I decided not to count laps because it’s distracting from the primary task of leaning forward in case of Yorkshire terrier, I think I did quite a few more than five laps, and I did not wipe out at all. My iPod also refrained from falling out of my bra this time, though it’s done a great job making my boobs look rectangular.

I downed more than half a Pocari Sweat upon return to my abode, a beverage which I’m still explaining to some of the newly landed frontiersman. I mean…fellow Americans that are new to Asia.

One of the reasons I’ve blogged less and less these several months, aside from great frustration at my general situation the past year for myriad reasons – is simply my discomfort with publishing my observations. Boil it all down to that, for whatever reason. And no, not from any law or government – really, my own personal, social situations and career path.

I still feel that now. I pull out (and on) my masks appropriately. And honestly, it has little to do with China. Or with Thailand. I’m not particularly worried about offending the countries where I reside (they already know if they need to, any way), so much as the people from my home culture, or within my immediate colleague group. I do not wear the mask of a white North American in Asia only. I wear the mask of one working here with many other divergent view points, representing many nations, religions and opinions. Bah I make it sound like I work for the UN. HA! So grandiose.

My point is, I still wear a lot of masks. And I hate that. So Tuesday evening, after I had gracefully epic failed with the garbage, the yorkie, and those sinister bushes (and what about Grandma with that sword I almost ran into? Ok, just Tai Chi) I got up at an Open Mic Standup Comedy night and let loose for about three minutes.

And it was glorious. For three minutes, I wore no masks. I was completely sober and I blurted out what I damn well wanted to say. What did I say? I’m not publishing that. Yep, she’s teaching your children folks. I hope that such a forum will allow for a greater degree of freedom than amateur internet publishing does, with its slightly more fleeting nature even than the internet, though I hope to continue both ventures.

I have missed writing. I have missed many things. As I wheeled around our apartment compound this morning, one of my many trance tracks came up. Well they were all trance who am I kidding. “How can you sit there watching, someone else? How can you sit there (sit there) watching.” Exactly. Get up and do it.

Why are you Chasing the bus?

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I reflect a lot these days, but I do so less frequently in print. I decided to record some of my recent sentiments today.

I spent three hours trying to catch the number 11 bus today. Punctuated by a break for lunch at the corner of the bus stop, and an interlude attempting to use the trains instead - I actually chased down two number 11 buses – one which I missed and one which I caught, only to be told no this is the wrong bus and not let onboard, I fell back, defeated. And admittedly, swearing out loud with reckless abandon.

I knew I needed that bus. I knew it was the bus going where I wanted to be going. I even relaxed after the first miss, standing on the correct street but the wrong side of the intersection, re-evaluated and got brunch. After all, even if I needed that bus, I suppose it didn’t matter what time I caught it – that was my whole plan for the day.

When it came to being turned away from the bus I thought I needed, and storming off to a train station and even more maddening confusion related to that and where the connecting station ‘within walking distance’ even was – I decided to regroup and go back to my hotel. Tired, frustrated, drugged up and ready for the next dose and even more dehydrated – really, why was I chasing that bus? I had no ticket. There was no deadline.

It was the wall I built for myself. Sometimes, goals and objectives are worthwhile. Other times, being unable to achieve even the smallest of them, we allow ourselves to shut down. Or at least, I do.

I thought about it, and it wasn’t about the bus versus the train versus taxi fare. It was about my certainty in my own ability to ‘do it,’ to catch that bus, to do it myself without help. When that didn’t work, when help didn’t pan out either – it really just represented one thing: another failure. Plummeting electrolytes did not assist.

Now you might be saying to yourself damn, it is just a bus calm down. And you’d be right. But the thing is, it’s not just the bus. And it hasn’t been just the bus, or the visa, or any of that for some time. And really – the bus is yet another punctuation of that continued realization – until it sticks, it will be the bus, or the visa, or whatever it is.

I guess the point I’m trying to get across is to realize when you don’t need to chase the bus. When it’s ok to sit down. Buy a bottle of water and find another perspective. The semi broken colored window panes of a room that seems to serve no purpose, overlooking pigeon decorated rooftops with old shoes dotting the mix might do nicely. It’s not the view you were looking for. It’s not particularly scenic. But it’s a different view. A view from which to clear your head, and neither the journey nor the destination will matter until you can do that.

Perhaps we will try again tomorrow, bus 11 and I.
I have had the sense to acquire a map, at this point.
But I think I will work on the loftier goal of acquiring a Malaysian plug adapter and dinner. Wherever.

Reflections on a Year

Tomorrow marks one year.

I am looking forward to sunrise.
Not only as the middle day of the three day Thai New Year holiday, but of a project I chose to begin at this time last year. I have made it.
It has been a full calendar year.

Has the year been perfect? Of course not. Have I accomplished everything I set for myself at this time last year? No to that as well. But this is bigger than any of those.

This has been by far the biggest undertaking of my time abroad, for me.

I’ve learned a lot.

I’ve realized that often, being an educator and being somewhat of a journalist of cultural experience can be incompatible, or may be ill advised in what’s considered professional.

I’ve realized that sometimes, self-censorship occurs for reasons that are more in line with my personal values in caring for others than the need to record from observation and publish.

I’ve realized what I think I always knew, but perhaps was afraid to admit – one year is not enough.
But nor is the first year, of anything, going to be the best one.
You may look at me and say – but, you’ve been there two and a half years, so what are you talking about?
And? I’m not just marking time from tarmac to tarmac.

I’ve realized, or reinforced my idea that you don’t bring your Grinch to somebody else’s party. If that means you sit inside and sit out much of the Thai New Year, then so be it. It takes a bigger person to admit they cannot, or do not want to accommodate others than to fake it. And it takes even more than that to avoid bringing others down when you are. I value raw and real, but on this day, you have your celebration and I’ll have mine. And yes – that idea is part of the accomplishment of this year as much as it shows the steps that lay ahead for a second year and beyond.

I’ve realized that what I used to think I wanted, and what I used to believe to be the order of things – is not the only way the story can play out. Nor is it the way the story is going to play out. In some ways it’s a frightening realization, except that, it was always the case whether I realized it or not. You can make choices to work with and change your circumstances – but you don’t choose your starting point, or your curve balls. You’ve got to work with what you’ve got and adapt. And if that ends up leading you further afield than you first thought well – maybe, to get started, it’s best that way. It’s much harder to get cold feet if you don’t really know what you’re getting into. Once you’re in it, well, already here right?

I’m not extraordinary. I’m not entitled. Or required in the ways I once thought.
I am determined. I am driven. And I am striving forward, often on a path I never used to see as a viable possibility. Perhaps the greatest blessing of feeling your world turned upside down a few times early in life – is that it leads you to question more of the rules – and break more of them to open a new trail.

If you’d like to walk with me, really walk with me, I’ll tell you about my dreams. Walk with me long enough, I have stories to tell beyond that. They won’t always be sunny. But I promise they will be me.

It’s only been one year. It’s been a full year! So much has happened.
There is so much more to come.
And we’ve got a long road ahead, so let’s keep walking.

Ten. YOU – Five.

Oh how long has it been since you wrote a post? Oh but shouldn’t you wait and write a positive post? I mean really, does the internet really need another Delta airlines horror story? The facebook posts were melodrama enough, dear.

Oh, true friendship is three days of cleaning out an empty cat litter bucket of your vomit? Save it. Really, we don’t need to hear that. (I love you guys!)

So what have I been thinking? Probably that some adventures can be summarized or skipped over, and just left at that. That and my immune system hates me. Or maybe I’ve not been nice enough to it.

It’s Valentine’s Day. And no, that doesn’t mean I’m wallowing about ambiguous situations with the opposite gender. Actually – I’m most disturbed that this year, I’m not getting up on stage and yelling at a crowd of strangers about my genitalia. And while I’m blushing typing that this year, in the previous two years I proudly marched up in front of the Foreign Correspondent’s Club of Thailand to a packed house and proceeded to give voice to how ridiculous tampons are (which is ironic, in itself). This year – I have backed down from even helping run an art table at a combination dance marathon/monologue event representing the same women’s causes. Sure, I can blame my food poisoning and my throbbing back pain and I really do feel like utter crap. But I think that’s a further indication of being off course not just from eating the street food (It was chicken soup! There were more than 20 people eating there. Hrmph.) It’s an indication that I’m not really headed on a path I identify with lately. And that is the upsetting thing.

And frankly, that’s a disconnect I’ve been loathe to give voice to, because in the space of the disconnect, I’ve let plenty of other voices that do not resonate with me get under my skin. Worse still, plenty that do resonate have gotten under my skin too. I’ve balked because I haven’t had the next thing ready to go in verbal combat. And holding up the armor, and my focus away from my physical self, has taken a toll.

I’m not peeling back my façade, but I’m going to admit that my battle has been a lot more uphill lately. And I’ve considered a lot of things for the coming year that were not on the table even two months ago. But I’m going to nurture those ideas the same way I now need to focus on my physical body.

You might be wondering about the title. I tried a yoga class this week. Twice, actually. And as I joined the class, the teacher was well aware of my physical state. As he directed the class to do ten repetitions of something, he looked me in the eye several times and declared, “YOU, five.” I am not strong enough to do ten right now. So I will do five.

Samsara

Philosophical conversation bordering on masochism with colleagues is a regular part of my school day, generally speaking. Heavy-handed sarcasm and exaggeration are abundant.

More than once, the topic of karma has been brought forth.

One colleague in particular is convinced that he is not learning what he is supposed to learn at our place of employment, karmically speaking, and is doomed to repeat it yet again in the next life. I asked him whether he was certain he had correctly ascertained what it is he is meant to learn here. He seems quite certain, and quite resolute that he will indeed, succumb to repeated lessons he is not learning. I am not suggesting I have figured out my own lesson entirely.

People suggest quite frequently that I move elsewhere. But of late, my general response has been to the effect that you can pack misery with you. We each have a different lesson to gain from the experience life places us in. Perhaps one of the most important is to learn happiness regardless of circumstance; to learn happiness despite the continued barrage around us.

Surely, we keep striving forward. But are we shedding these things that weigh us down or merely muddling onward? A combination, I’m quite sure.

As we go forward, moving onward…

Behind the Scenes

Sometimes, when we have the least to say, we have the most going on behind the scenes. Writer's block. What to say.

I successfully organized tie-dyed t-shirts with more than 100 teenagers recently; language barrier and Imperial/Metric conversions (and straight up guesses for complete lack of measuring instructions in either) and all. And in so doing fostered the confidence to do it again in the future. I pushed it knowing how much I wanted that confidence boost.

I have experienced a fairly high volume of mental shift - and generally a daily reordering of priorities; be they mundane daily tasks, or the grander, longer term plan lately. It doesn't always seem like it, but I feel I've slowly opened the flood gates for a whole series of new ideas that even six months ago did not even seem like remote possibilities. I'm still assessing the stream of them.

I'm 7 months in to a project that I feel to be of very high importance. Some other things have fallen off along the way, some new stumbling blocks have arisen, but we try to climb the sand dune again any way. And I've got more momentum this time. Despite a righteous wipeout in mid-October, still going.

I will not run even a 3K again before 2013 as my foot heals. My photography is still backlogged. My taxation frustration is not going anywhere. New big ideas are just fermenting, and I am impatient for them to mature. In many things, it appears back to the drawing board. But my drawing board, while I feel it's filled with childish imaginings and farfetched hodgepodge, has expanded. And much like my life drawing class* - maybe you have to find a bigger canvas before you start to figure out how best to fill it. Perhaps wiping things off and widening the corridors is exactly what we need first.

Notes: *My life drawing instructor suggested working on a larger paper, and my work really bloomed from that point of the semester onwards, working in the larger format.

Reflections of Grief

Alright, that’s it. That’s death number three in four months. And if you go back to April, you can count the family dog as number four.

But this most recent loss has shaken me up the most.
Grandpa died peacefully in his sleep.
The other unexpected death was unnerving, and I pushed through and put on my “I’m strong I can deal with this mask,” like I always do. Skip mascara, just in case.

This past Friday morning (Bangkok time) felt like being kick boxed in the sternum.

I have lost the friend that has been my biggest supporter since moving to Bangkok, the most frequently in contact, and someone I thought was going to be a positive force in my life for decades to come. I have lost a mentor and friend for whom I held deep respect – and for whom I still can’t quite process what’s happened to the past few months.

Since August, when my friend’s trouble began, we’d been in touch even more regularly. The past month, we were in email contact daily.

This past Thursday morning, I was a righteous grump at morning assembly. Frustrations with work, Bangkok life, the American elections, the list goes on. But more than that – my friend hadn’t emailed. I think I already sensed something was gravely wrong. I wish I were wrong. I was still making up other possible scenarios, putting it off. It’s just as well I went straight to bed on Thursday – at least I got a full night’s sleep first.

Anyone that moves to another country has a reason, or multiple reasons for it. A big reason that many leave the shores of their homeland that we often don’t admit to is grief. Everyone has a story – whether economic or emotional, for being so far from ‘home.’

When my entire family was grieving, I felt smothered. I felt blamed. I felt trapped. I could not find the space to heal on my own without carving it out for myself, far far from home. I have felt deep seeded wanderlust, I have felt a specific curiosity about Asia, and Thailand alone. I do not wish to repeat the mistakes of so many who regret not traveling more in their youth. I needed to follow the opportunity placed before me for experience in teaching, and seeing things from a view other than that of Middle America. But if I’m truly honest – I needed to grieve.

Thailand offers lots of methods for placating what ails you – sunshine, beaches, jungle huts, alcohol, illicit substances, medical tourism, sex tourism, Buddhist meditation, Thai massage, aromatherapy, retail therapy – the list goes on. Surely something on the list suits most everyone.

What’s interesting to me – is how determined I was to create the space for myself to heal, and how far I’ve come – yet how much at this moment, I really and truly am the most homesick I’ve felt since arriving here. Unlike before, when I felt the pressure of family smothering me – with the loss of my dear friend – I want nothing more than to be with the people I knew in college, the family I felt so oppressed by as we each found our own paths to grieve.

And it’s a reminder, too, of what we cannot take for granted. Of all the people that I thought might commit suicide, that I worried about – I never, ever imagined he would. I cannot imagine what he went through these past nine weeks prior to his death – the doctor’s visits, the lack of answers – or feel what the flood of medications made him feel. And it’s not my place to reveal more of his story here. But to try and remember the human compassion we so often reminded each other we denied ourselves in our hyperactive self-criticism; especially at this moment to allow for the grace of human kindness and at the least – an end of great suffering.

In a couple of days, it will be my two-year anniversary of living in Bangkok. I’ve been planning a blog post for that day for over a year and a half, whatever form it may take; or whether it may be late – or not what I thought given my current state of mind.

I will be ‘home’ at Christmas and New Years – whichever zip code or couch crashing spot I may find myself in. And I’ll be paying my respects several times, it appears.

Shortly before his death, my friend told me I’m one of the strongest and kindest people he has ever known. For once – I accept the compliment, and believe it – instead of slicing it to bits and questioning myself about how it’s not correct, how I still just don’t measure up. Life is too short. And there is no such thing as being perfect – especially if being perfect comes without being happy.

Everyone grieves differently. Each grief adds a new depth to the loss one has experienced before. I’m not sure you ever really ‘get over it,’ but you learn to move forward, and upward. Like hiking Mount Baldy – the sand dune – one step up, half a step back. You keep going.

I’m not going to say I’m thankful, for this loss, or that all things happen for a reason. I hate those sayings. But it’s certainly been a wake up call in my quest of figuring out my life purpose, and soldiering forward on the path of figuring out when I am happy and what I really, deep down am passionate about. So many days I doubt I’ve really quite felt it out yet, my real driving passion – which is exhilarating, terrifying, and normal. I guess. But I do know that hinging one’s sense of self too heavily on one passion or identity is entirely too dangerous; and the flexibility, some say the inability to make decisions and focus – is a great gift in itself. When you can change, you can survive. Hopefully, you can thrive.

It’s about 6pm and with the massive storm clouds rolling in it’s pitch black outside. I could use a little more sunlight – but maybe once the thunder and lightning hits, it’ll feel like back home in Indiana.

So many people, including the friend lost unexpectedly in July, say “do it now.” And yes – you should do something, now. But you cannot do everything ‘now,’ and if the simple mandate to ‘do it now’ causes you anxiety – learn to live, and change, and move forward – but grant yourself the grace to slow down, and to let yourself heal, and to tell yourself “you’re already a great person, and this world needs you, even if in this moment, you just need the world.” Gah now I feel like I’ve gone all mushy. Don’t worry, the world needs my sarcasm and it will be back in short order. But it’s also true, what was said to me recently: “you’re using all your energy to keep up this mask, and you don’t have any energy left to give.” Well, there. Defenses down. Ok?

I’m kind, and I’m strong – and today I’m admitting that the two are not always mutually exclusive as I’m just trying to be kind to myself.

Ultimately, I believe this loss will shape the artwork I create, the continued education I pursue, and add some good hard scar tissue to both qualities my friend felt I possess, strength and kindness.

To all my dear friends and family – near and far, in and out of touch – I love you, I miss you. And when I’m far away, I think of you fondly.