Goals, Momentum and Fapiao

I said I was going to bed. Of course I did. And then I created a spreadsheet to track my finances this year, read more email, posted some more links, downloaded my completed US tax paperwork, put away some laundry, began another blog post…

And didn’t you just blog a couple days ago? What is this about Jenny?

I just don’t stop. That’s still something I haven’t quite gotten the hang of. Learning to stop. The light switch is either on, or off. No light switch raves. Coasting in the middle isn’t really how I do things most of the time.

It’s funny, because I just read a post about setting bigger goals: http://chrisguillebeau.com/3x5/your-goals-are-too-small/#comment-96891 and the limits of self-censorship: http://www.fearlessjenn.com/2013/08/30/a-censors-reflection/

Both of which are incredibly relevant to where I’m at – need to stretch myself more and stop freaking keeping my mouth shut. It’s not good for me to stop talking. Well – ok that’s a mixed bag. Any way.

On the one hand, I think taking on China in my second year of teaching, and some of the other side projects I’ve got cooking, whether or not I’ve brought them up on here, illustrate some pretty big goals, actually. I’m finally being less of a wimp again.

On the other hand, my voice is still subdued. My writing is still self-censored. It will continue to be – but I am fighting for middle ground.

Tonight I put together my first fapiao paperwork with a neighbor’s help. Fapiao is an official Chinese tax receipt. A fapiao will have an official red stamp. After a purchase or meal you will probably have to take your regular receipt and then go to a separate counter, or otherwise ask for an official fapiao. Be sure you have your company’s name written in Chinese when you get this issued. You will also have to sign the back and/or get a chop made to stamp the back of your fapiao for verification.

There are several categories, we have to learn the Chinese characters to recognize which is which on our fapiao receipts. There are two types of forms that encompass the 4-6+ categories in different ways. The idea is basically you submit a bunch of receipts from living expenses: restaurants, taxis, other transport, rent, food (not grocery, that’s a different category when taken in translation and does not count), telecommunication… I guess it’s kind of like itemizing for US taxes, but it’s monthly and a little different.

A few colleagues have earned the knickname ‘fapiao’ because they are constantly collecting as many tax receipts as they possibly can in an effort to avoid taxes. Though, it can be counterproductive – you have to spend more than you’d pay in tax in order to get the full eligible tax break. So really, just go about your business but collect your receipts meticulously. And if you have a friend who doesn’t use a certain kind of fapiao because their contract is different – get them to collect those for you.

And I thought my US tax filing was confusing.

I am nervous. Earlier today I think I might have been more nervous than for starting last year. I don’t know. I do know I have a lot more support and a lot more resources. I also know I’m finally setting forward on some goals that have been backburnered for some time now.

I guess we shall see. But take it easy there, Jenny. You’re still checking your watch when people ask how long you’ve been in Shanghai.

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.