Money, I Want Money!!!

I wrote in some blog a while ago, that I had changed my mind; contrary to my dreams as a kid, I currently do in fact--want to be rich and have a lot of money.

This is why: http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2006-12-20-santa-secret_x.htm

Call me weird, call me crazy, and say what you will about sharing and building relationships vs. giving. There are only a few things that would make me happier than doing what this guy does.

Retire

I'm not shutting this blog down, but I'm trying to streamline everything I write into one place so I don't feel like I have all these appendages everywhere.

I don't know who reads this, but if you do and you for whatever reason what to continue reading, I'm going to plant myself over at my other blog, http://danhom.wordpress.com .

Hopefully I don't stay in China again for extended periods of time and lose my ability to access it.

Motivations.

I find it funny that sometimes we think the best way to stop people from doing something, is to outlaw it. Make it illegal.

Granted, for some people, there is a threshold for certain activities. If it is not illegal to steal, then more people will feel inclined to do so because there is less risk. But the idea that something making it illegal to steal means that nobody will steal is a bit silly I think.

I believe this. Everybody performs an action because they have some motivation to do so. I steal because I have no money because I have no job because no one will hire me because I'm Asian. Either that or I steal because I don't think it hurts anyone. I tell my girlfriend to have an abortion because I don't have the money to support the child.

But if you erase the motivation, any of the above said actions, are suddenly gone.

This, is how I think we should be going about stopping people from doing these we deem, undesirable.

Of course, changing people's motivations, is infinitely more difficult of a job than simply making it illegal.

Voices Riding on the Wind

Today was a pretty bad day. It was busy, lonely, and stressful to boot. The one bright spot in the afternoon was talking and helping some local young kids with their English, though their English is already pretty good. But still, I had a headache and overall the whole day still sucked.

And then it sucked more because I had to go out and figure out dinner on my own.

And then I got a surprise: a phone call from my local friend who's working in Denmark, just to see how I was doing. The conversation was refreshing and it felt good just to connect with a friend again.*

And then I found a really good Japanese ramen noodle place. Surprisingly good, since it was in a food court.

And then I spent an hour or so just listening to music in a record store.

It was a nice way to have an evening to end a rough day.

Do not underestimate the power of randomly calling your friends just to say hi. I won't.

* - Though I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise. He called two weeks ago, and at the time said he would call again in two weeks.

Momento for the Sunshine

I've spent the last chunk of undetermined time allowing Ms. Eva Cassidy's amazing voice to soothe my mind and soul while I sit here on a couch and waver between spacing out and searching for random, worthless information on the web. I would've loved to hear the woman live.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
It's not warm when she's away,
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
and she's always gone too long,
anytime he goes away.

Her rendition is so calm but her phrasing so smooth and perfect. It's the right amount of soul, the right amount of jazz, and just the right amount of gentle rhythm. Like the breaking dawn after days of rain.

It's like a mirror that reflects the opposite of what I'm feeling. It's the perfect antidote to the tense, pressure filled, tired mind. My thinking has become sporadic, my focus nearly non existent.

I suppose I could simplify things. Overcompensate, be overly decisive and just choose something. And if such choices carried no consequences I probably would have done just that. But since they don't, well I'm stuck listening to my newfound love.

Though honestly, that's not such a bad option after all.

Short Sighted Shock

Hooray for more shocks!

One of my good friends today told me he didn't believe I was Christian.

I can't say I didn't expect it, but I will say I didn't expect the thoughts and feelings that came with it.

Pass Go . Collect Confusion.

When I was on the plane to this part of the world, I thought of a very, not so unique question.

What the hell am I doing?

When I was on the bus watching the energetic scenery of Hong Kong come into view, I expected to feel my usual lunchbox of emotions inside a usual boyish grin: excitement, energy, joy. I instead got a very, not so unique question.

What the hell am I doing?

I’m not homesick. I’m not regretful, and I clearly don’t want to be back where I was in China. But there’s something rolling around in my mind that’s keeping me restless, and I don’t know it is.

I feel nervous. I feel confused. And I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling these feelings.

I simply don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

I sort of had this issue last year when I couldn’t decide what to do with my life. Should I apply for grad school, keep trying to find a job, do something else? Now I’m running into the same roadblock. This should be easy for me. Find something I have some interest in, and go do it. If it doesn’t work, or I find I don’t like it, know that it was a learning process and move on. That’s life and that’s how we learn. I’m 23 and I’m young and I have time. And even if I’m old it doesn’t make a difference.

Physically I have a vision problem. I have trouble focusing on objects that are close to me. For some reason, I feel like this problem extends to my mental thinking. I focus on the future. And when some small roadblock all of a sudden pops in front of me I trip because I don’t see it coming and have no idea how to deal with it. But I will learn. I need to learn. I’m tired of being shocked like this.

What the hell am I doing?

I don’t know. But I will have the courage to charge ahead, learning on the way. I’ve got to.

Midnight Burn

I was beginning to think the day would never come. But like every good and faithful calendar day, it eventually does.

Of course, I speak of my last day of teaching: tomorrow. It'll be a chill day, filled without an attempt to run any semblance of a class, after all it is the last day of school. The last thing students will want to do is actually have class. I remember the feeling myself when I was their age. So it should be a fun filled day of games, songs, and for those classes who still are apathetic beyond belief, well, self study. I've decided self-study solves all problems.

And then after that, I'll be out of here. It's funny to think that in two days, I'll most likely set my eyes on this town for the absolute last time. Bar any sudden riches, or an absolute void of activities in my life, I really won't be coming back. I don't live in a beautiful town, there's nothing noteworthy to see here, but most importantly, I don't know anyone here. I've met a couple locals, but our friendship is so shallow and our "guanxi" non existent both parties know that at this stage, I won't be back.

I think it's pretty well understood that I haven't exactly embraced my experience here, and won't be spewing praises of it in the future. It was a good experience. I'm glad I came. It was tough, rough, a practice in learning to live in a rural area, and all the strife and joy that can come with being a teacher. Living on the inside of China as a whole, was an eye opening experience. But you don't need to have your eyes opened more than once.

That's the best way I can put it.

And now I need to turn my eyes ahead of me. I don't know what Hong Kong holds for me. I may be writing a Kung Fu script. I may be a teacher again. I may become a journalist.

Who knows. I definitely don't.

On a separate note, I've been thinking about how my voice for this blog is more subdued, more thoughtful. When I write facebook notes, xanga entries, or charged "editorials" I tend to be more edgy. Try to be more funny. More witty. And less "lost in thought."

I guess, when I write about my own life, what's the use of any of those attributes?

Letter to the Editor

Dear Dan,

Hey, I know how you've been feeling lately. You're a grab bag of slight homesickness, mental tiredness, restlessness, and that twinge of hope that can't leave you. I know it's been rough, and I now how excited, and nervous you are to move on. Just wanted to write a couple things to your way. Remember I'm a bit tired and worn out myself, so this may come across as, well, straight up weird.

1. Never stop believing in yourself.

You're not perfect Dan, you know that. But if there's one flaw that's been hounding you lately it's your skill at appearing confident. You can look confident, you can ooze it. But you don't got it. Don't lie. It's good to step back and question yourself, but it's bad, bad to start thinking you're not capable. Everyone always has doubts about their skills. It's okay to doubt your creative element. It's okay to doubt your ability to write. It's okay to doubt your ability to act and perform in front of others. It's okay to doubt your ability to teach. It's okay to doubt yourself. But never let that actually stop you. Never let it cause you to stop believing that you are someone who can do good things.

2. Never stop being humble.

You're not perfect Dan, and you need to remember that. Take a second everyday and look around you. Look at the people all around you. Look at the immense scale that is nature that surrounds you. And then think of all the people you know around the world. Think of those big cities that house millions of people. And then think of those millions of small villages that house people you will never meet. And then remember that this blue planet is one of countless ones among the stars. You are not the center of the universe and never will be. You serve others. You have many things to learn, and many things to give. There is a time for each. Remember your place. Don't let false modesty become another fatal flaw.

3. Never stop working hard.

You want a lot of things Dan. But they aren't going to walk into your hands. You need to reach out and grab them. And chase them. And sweat for them. It doesn't matter if it's writing a story or saving somebody's life. If you want it, you gotta go get it.

So go Dan. Make everything count. Oh, how could I forget.

4. Never forget your friends.

It doesn't matter where they're from. Childhood, high school, church, college, college abroad, random other friends you've met, treasure them all. When they write you, write them back. And when they don't, write them anyway. Because you're blessed buddy. Look at your friends and never forget that.

And don't forget. I like you too. Or at least, I should. =D

your bud,
Dan

Set the Timer

It's almost June. June means I'll be leaving soon. Leaving soon means one thing to me. Freedom.

And what does freedom mean to me? Surprisingly, I don't have a single clue.

For the first time a couple weeks ago, I actually felt a twinge of regret in my heart. I started spending my free time in daydreams of open roads, clear skies, fresh air, good food. I sat in my chair and thought about friends, family. I lay in my bed and couldn't stop thinking about how much more comfortable my bed back home is...

I think most people call it, being homesick. Chalk it up to China to leave me feeling foreign feelings. Foreign...I just chuckled.

I'm dreading my decision that I have a strong premonition I'll be making--the decision, to find work in Hong Kong. I dread it because, well because that would mean staying away from home for an even longer period of time. But if I think about it for more than a few seconds I realize, it's also just a tad bit exciting.

Why? Well, I guess Hong Kong is a little bit like home too.

"Teacher, your game isn't fun at all."

said two girls in my class today.

I can't get over how funny things work in life. I was biking earlier this morning and thought to myself, "You know, I think I'm actually starting to enjoy teaching, in some small, strange way, despite all the struggles and the fact that I'm not a real 'teacher'." Then, as life would have it, during my last class, someone took a sledgehammer and hit my newfound revelation square in the face.

It was during one of my "peasant classes", one where the majority of the students are apathetic to the point where I now run the class in a really relaxed, let's just chat and have fun kind of way (mostly to keep my vitality going which is a rarity these days). Still most of the students don't pay attention, but I can have some small conversation with some of students. In the end, I decided to do a little game of practicing asking questions with some team competition involved. And then at the end, those two girls hit the jackpot.

And they didn't stop there. I only understood maybe 80% of their words, but I got almost 100% of their meaning, and then some. "Teacher we've done this before. You're too relaxed, calm, and easy going. You don't care about our class. That's why everyone's so loud and doesn't listen to you. You should care about us."

It doesn't matter whether their statement had weight to it or not. They had guts, I give them that. Two Chinese girls willing to speak their mind, finally. Of course, it doesn't change the fact that I was indignant, but at the same time, I couldn't deny that for their class, I actually didn't care a whole lot.

I didn't respond, and in retrospect, I'm glad I didn't. I could have defended myself with a flood of excuses. In fact, I don't know if I would call them excuses. They're almost facts that are so overbearing I could list them all and once again realize it's just impossible to run this class. I could have justified my position to anyone and be vindicated. But in the end, what would have defending myself done to change the situation of the class?

Nothing.

The girls would feel bad for bringing it up (or even more indignant), I would feel better about myself but still upset about the situation, and the class would just be the same next week. It always comes down to the students, and more than anyone, they always lose.

Regardless of how I felt about that moment, or the job in general, I'm beginning to realize how crucial a teacher's job is. It's easy to get lost in the bureaucracy of my job here. I'm not necessarily treated well, severely underpaid, the environment isn't conducive, the faculty don't seem to care, no one has any real suggestions, I could go on and on. And of course, when other people e-mail me to ask me about my perspective about this place, I give them my honest opinion as objectively as possible. Truthfully, I think losing foreign teachers for a year would really wake the administration up to the fact that they need to decide what they want this foreign English teacher program to be, that they need to provide some backbone if they don't want the foreign teachers to go crazy.

But that, in the end also harms the students. Everything always comes down to the students. It has to. There aren't many jobs where every little decision has a direct impact on someone's life. If I don't feel like planning because something ruined my mood, the students lose. If a previous class was rowdy and the following class I decided to do something ridiculous in revenge, the students lose.

I've never felt so much pressure to not focus on myself.

In the Mirror. Already.

I knew it would come soon, but I hardly expected the e-mail to come, now.

It was an e-mail from someone else--the next person to come to my school to be exact--asking for my thoughts, opinions, and overall impression of the place.

It's interesting on two counts. One, I'm not even through with being here. And two, well, it makes me already stare at my own experiences so far, look myself in the mirror, and ask myself...

"What have I done? What have I accomplished? What have I experienced?"

I wrote her a rather lengthy e-mail detailing my school, the city, the environment, and other mundane questions she asked about. And of course, I went into details about my teaching experience, which has changed significantly since I last wrote (in a good way for me, in a raise the white flag kind of way) and I'll write about the next time.

But the question I mostly inquired about, and asked her to reflect on it herself, was what her goals were in coming here in the first place.

I was in a unique position when I applied. I had just sent in my graduate school applications and had some time to burn, and so burn away time I did. I came here to China, to get some teaching experience and just to try something different.

And that's exactly what has happened. I'm here, I now have some teaching experience under my belt (though not of the type I imagined), and I am here, experiencing something different. Most of what I have experienced and learned has been about two things. One, my own cultural identity, and two, a realization on how big the world is and more importantly, how small I am.

I'll touch on number two first. Studying abroad in Hong Kong two years ago already made me realize how big the world is. Living in a place completely different from home does that to you. You see that there are people in the world who live lives completely different from the way you do yourself, yet often share variations on--if not exactly--similar topics. Everyone has dreams. Everyone has hopes. Everywhere there is some concept of family, though obviously its purpose differs.

Coming here in China, took that view and destroyed it. It was like I had experienced first hand how big the world was in Hong Kong, and then someone took a bat to my brain and said, "You think this is big? You have no idea." The concept is the same. People in the world who live lives completely different from my own, but to what great lengths? I can only imagine other parts of the world now. Living in China, especially in this rural place of sorts, has been so different from everything I ever experienced, it's a series of never ending shocks. The people here are so culturally different from the things I know, the things I call familiar, everything I've seen. To experience first hand the people, their lifestyle, what their window of the world looks like...it's an exercise in exhilaration and awe (at least, for the curious and open minded.) I can only imagine how much life must be different for people in Africa. The Middle East. I often wonder, what if really, I were to switch places with some of the students here? What if I traded my western upbringing for this rural place in rapidly developing China? All they know of my home is what they see on TV (state run I might add), and the postcards I show them.

Yet all this is an exercise in a mental struggle, which brings me to point one: identity. The problem with all this observation doing, is that I'm in China, and that ethnically, I'm Chinese. It's a struggle, because despite my own views, I'm somehow told here and there that I should be able to identify with my "motherland," which is a ridiculous thought to begin with, please don't seriously ingrain it into anyone's head. The problem being what I stated before. Everything here is culturally different from the things I know, the things I call familiar. It all boils down to one concept.

China is foreign to me.

It's not just some "oh I'm Asian American of course China's foreign". It's a true realization that China, and I, have almost nothing in common. Their communication style is weird, the implications ridiculous to me, the context sensitivity tiring, their methodology mind baffling. I've always internally compared myself to my other Asian American friends and always felt less Asian. That always left me with a mixture of pride, and a feeling I won't classify as shame. More like, confusion. Should I be more Asian? Should I be more...anything?

And today, I give an emphatic yet simple answer. No.

In a way this is the best thing this experience could have done for me. In college I was (in a way) incorrectly told that I was Chinese for a reason (which is true), but the implications where subtly drawn in the sand that that meant certain things for my identity, and for what that meant I should identify with. That's finally beginning to be done away with...the idea that I need to identify with something. I can just be who I am and identify with what I do identify with, and be curious and open minded about the rest.

Introversion

I rarely like to sit and just be quiet. It's a waste of time to me. Why sit there and do nothing when I can go do something that gets my energy going?

But there is one exception.

I love to sit somewhere, and do nothing but let my imagination roll.

Flying boats. Crayons that change the world. Causing change by thinking about it.

And then with a notebook and a pen next to me, scribble all the crazy ideas that run into my head. I could do it for a while.

Either that, or I wish I had a harmonica to play. I was sitting by the Yangtze River the other night and wished I could play it, play it to the boats passing by in the night.

Oh I thought about someone who had a heart transplant. But then the donor wanted it back. Because he was a ghost. Or something. This one freaked me out so I refuse to think about it. Haha.

Where the Road Takes Me

Well, it's been decided. I'm clearly not meant to go to graduate school this coming year. I would say that I'm crushed, but that would be a lie. I would say that I'm unnerved, but that would be an equally bold-faced lie. I'm definitely more disappointed than I thought I would be--as I have been mentally preparing for this unfortunate truth. Only to realize, I was only pretending to prepare.

The shock of the truth is that I have almost no idea where to go from here. I'm not like those people who have a "dream", a "goal", the thing they want the most out of life. Yes, I absolutely love writing (most of the time), but I know that if it were a "dream" as opposed to just a "love", I would give up everything to chase it. But it's not a dream. I don't know what it is actually.

I've always been the person that dabbles in everything. I like to try different things, do different things. I value variety. Perhaps this is why I've always had multiple groups of friends at every stage in life. It would be a poor choice of words to say that I get bored with one group of friends, and quite untrue actually. Rather, I simply value the differences of each group and how it gives me the opportunity to participate in a wide range of activities.

And unfortunately, I think this is what I want out of work, out of a career. Out of life.

But then again, do most people?

I thought I would be back in the States by August. But now it looks like it won't be until September. Or October. Or if I find a job in this part of world, much later than that.

Who knows. Definitely not me. Definitely not me...

Over Troubled Water

I hope you're prepared to read something slightly over dramatic and most definitely unnecessary.

It's really not that late right now (the dependable clock in the lower right of my monitor says 11:03pm), but I sit here with a wealth of feelings I'd rather not deal with, but feel like engaging nonetheless. Manliness be damned, if I'm going to conquer these emotions I'm going to have to recognize their existence.

For the first time, almost ever, I sincerely felt confused about--of all things--myself. As you well know, I live in a pretty rural area and have very few 'friends', which is a huge struggle, for anyone. But lately I've been feeling so disconnected from everything else, I realize when I do communicate, I say things that are unusual, trite, and distinctively not me. I'm left wondering far too often, "Why did I just say that? I never say that." I'm 100% certain I'm simply under some spell--perhaps just tired--but I just do not feel like myself lately. I also noticed that my co-worker here often has impressions of me that I feel, aren't really me. Some of it is pride in that I care about my reputation. But some of my worries stem from the same thought process: why am I consistently...acting different? It's as if the lack of other people around me has caused me to somehow forget who I am in the process. A weird concept to be sure.

Maybe it has to do with another feeling I have to struggle with--physical loneliness. I live in an apartment way to big for just myself. I live in an area where I can't really communicate with anyone. Oh I know the language--not well enough to engage in meaningful conversation--but I do know it. Perhaps if I grew up in a small rural community such as this, I would appreciate it and love it. But as a foreigner who comes in at the age of 23 and finds no one his age, it's extremely difficult to feel the desire to talk to anyone. After all, the only reason I speak anything at all is because I want to buy something, or because I want to practice my skills of the language, which of course is energy consuming.

I've made a small handful of friends--other foreigners in the city, and I'm eternally grateful that there's someone else to chat with, play cards with, play in a mock-band with. But somehow, it just doesn't "cut it" for me. I feel a twinge of remorse to say so, as if certain people "aren't good enough" to "cut it" as my friends. Perhaps the idea that "it's the people that make the place" holds a certain amount of, falsehood to it. I would agree to the idea actually, but perhaps it can be said that people make up 90% of a place. To some degree, no matter how great the people, we all would rather just be with those people in another place.

I'm hopefully going back to Hong Kong in two weeks. I'm looking forward to it with sheer excitement and some curiosity. I hope to wake up and realize I'm still the same old fun loving guy who apparently likes to crack the same joke a billion times and still think it's funny.

Ultimately, I really feel like I could use some company. I leave the TV on most of the time while I'm home. I've simply come to want to hear that constant chatter of someone else's presence. Yeah, my greatest excitement absolutely comes from the opportunity to see my Hong Kong friends, my mom and uncle, and just to soak in the atmosphere, energy, and life of a place that bustles with...people.

Again, apologies for the completely unnecessary theatrics of this entry. I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow, feel perfectly okay, and proceed to contemplate deleting this entry. Which I'll probably do in a day.

Nightmare. And then Hope.

I had the worst 45 minutes of my teaching "career" today.

All of the classes I teach fall into one of four categories: excited, interested, apathetic and hopeless. The apathetic classes are usually hopeless too.

But this class in particular is hard because for the most part, it's a in the "hopeless" category. Most of the class is rowdy as hell and refuses to listen to anything I say. Or on the off chance they do listen, they'll refuse to work with me and won't participate. But they won't just go do something else, they'll drag everyone else around them down with them.

I solved (or failed) another class like this by weeding out the people who just didn't care and moved them to the back and let them play games, under the condition they would be silent. That tactic is impossible for this class. It's too big and they're too crazy.

I spent most of the class just standing there watching them. A small handful of them actually practiced the activity. Most of them just chatted away. After a while most of the class felt that something was wrong and hushed up and stared back at me. Slightly frustrated, I tried to do what I already knew was futile. I wanted to figure out what they wanted and how I could help them. So I asked them a series of questions in Chinese. Are my instructions clear? Is this boring? Is English useless to you? etc.

Of course they told me it was interesting. They would never say otherwise. But it's easier to punch a hole through that lie than paper. I went one by one and more or less proved to everyone that they either thought the activity was boring because they weren't participating or that they never bothered to listen to me in the first place.

For most of the time I honestly didn't care. I no longer really take anything that happens in the classroom personally, with any class. I know what I'm up against, and people tell me it's amazing I can do anything at all. The disadvantages working against me are numerous and each a giant in its own right.

But what really sent me into a rage, was strangely enough, a sense of sadness. Like I said, most of this class falls into the "hopeless" category. Most. Unfortunately for my psyche, it also borderlines on the "interested" side.

As the class descended into obvious craziness*, I could see a few students look at me with despair. One student, who constantly tried to quiet his classmates (one of the many exercises in futility), asked me, "teacher can we start again?" (as in, can you try to restart your lesson because we want to learn something). Some of the others just gave me this look that said, "we really, really want to learn." One student even started reading out loud this prompt I had given them in an attempt to practice on her own.

Sadly, they're 10 (max) out of a class of 50 (*2). Towards the end, my standing in the front and just staring at them (mostly thinking about some plot ideas for some movie), eventually caught their attention. "The teacher's mad..." they whispered to each other. It was funny hearing that, and thinking to myself, 'I'm actually not mad. I just don't want to over exert myself just to get you kids to listen to two words I say.'

I gave a short speech at the end, that mostly said, "I know there's a handful of you who really want to learn. And I'm sorry, that today we weren't able to do anything."

The bell rang right after that, thank God. Because I was on the verge of tearing up. It was eerily silent as I left. Usually they're a riot, but today, they just sat there and watched me march out. You really could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

I felt a twinge of remorse. To a degree, I feel like I failed those handful of people, hence the (almost) tears. And then I realized I lied to myself. I was mad. I was so mad that all I could do was bike out of there as hard as possible. And I didn't realize how fast I was going, until I got off and felt my legs burn.

7 hours and 2 classes later, my anger's gone, but I still feel that twinge of remorse. It stings to know that people wanted something from me that I tried to give, but just couldn't, even if it was because of circumstances way beyond my control. I know the class got some idea that something was very wrong and that I wasn't going to stand for it. Whether that translates into something different next week, well..at least I know it won't be boring.

* - This might give the impression that I simply do not have the ability to control them. I guess this technically could be true. But to "control" the people in this class, I would have to be a dictator. But to do that, I would lose my voice (which is already recovering from one death), I would be ruling about fear, and they still wouldn't learn anything. Everyone loses.

*2 - Yes. Most of my classes are 50 strong.

Badge of Deceit

"Anthony", I have a note for you at the bottom.
***

It never ceases to amaze me, that I can write in my blog, but I can't actually view it myself. The layout must be ugly. I've never been good at having good blog layouts.

I carry a badge with me. It's not a very big one, and I don't wear on my shirt, or the proverbial sleeve. But every so often I pull it out and flash it at someone. And it never really seems to help the situation. Yet I continue to do it.

I did it the other day.

I'm talking about my "loyalty" badge. The one that says, "I care about your well being more than my reputation with you." I usually only bring this out with friends I consider close, and only when I sincerely believe I have something of value to say to my friend that they need to hear. This of course ends up having one of three consequences. They either leave encouraged, enraged, or just cold. But I leave feeling some kernel of not satisfaction, but relief that regardless of how they feel towards me, they heard what they needed.

And when I think back on it, I sit down and internally sock myself in the face. "Congratulations," my head tells me, "you have the courage to put their well being over your reputation. But do you think for one moment you really have the wisdom, and more importantly the authority to pull such a stunt?"

And my oh so lowly response. "But I really believe in it."

And I do. I would rather say something to a friend--even if I would have to face the wrath of their anger--if in the end it helps them. If they think less of me, that's collateral damage. What's more important is that they're better off. Having me as a friend isn't so important.

And that's why I call it, the "loyalty" badge, the quotes necessary. After all, it's loyalty, right? Right?

What is loyalty? Do I understand it? Is it standing by someone regardless of what they do? Is it taking part in their burden? Is it temporarily hurting them in order to make them better, when necessary? Is it sacrificing yourself (in the non-ceremonial offer myself up to the gods type of way)

Full circle. I wonder if my friend I flashed my badge at the other day is angry, angry that I more or less told him to "wake up." I think I was pretty tactful about it. I tend to believe that being tactful is one of my strengths.

Then again, sometimes I think my iron grip of my "loyalty" badge is too.

***
I guess I'll have to start a new comments section here, since I can't post on my own blog...hah.

Anthony: I'm curious, who in common do we know? Small world. Appreciate the comment, and strangely applicable I got to admit. Do you do a lot of spoken word? I still think you should use it somewhere. But I might use it for a script somewhere. It strangely fits with something I'm "working on." And by working on, I mean the ideas are still in my head.

Sigh, work leaves me too tired at the end of the day.

Thriving on Adventure...or Insecurity?

I've always been a man of activity. Not necessarily action (I know full well my indecisiveness at times, I'm working on it), but definitely activity. I feel like, I also thrive on adventure, being in a place where I can discover new things daily, where there are routines, but not the dreaded feeling of "it's the same thing everyday."

Perhaps this is a severe weakness. After all, no matter where I live, inevitably the place will become familiar enough and everything will become mundane. Maybe I need to learn to appreciate more the things of "the same thing everyday."

I write this because soon, three organizations will soon tell me whether they believe I'm of caliber to be enrolled into their school. Well, I think it's soon. Sometimes you can never be sure. Nonetheless, my mind--to a mild degree--is aching to know my status. I want to know not so much because I really want to get in, but honestly, more so because I want to know what I might be doing after this China-stage of my life is over.

Don't take this as a "I can't wait to get out of here" feeling--though at times I feel that way. It's more of a, "5 more months really isn't that long of a time. What's next?"

What is next? It's a question that always bothers me. I'm slightly farsighted, which is something I always wondered if perhaps that affected my ability to think as well. I'm very good at looking at the long road ahead, and not very good at focusing on the things in front of me. This of course, means that when something does come up right in front of my face, I'm blindsided and confused and at a complete loss. No worries, I'm working on this too.

If I get into graduate school, I'm pretty sure I'll go. It'll be scary, but what job isn't? Every so often my desire to write dies (especially now given my lack of energy due to teaching), but when it comes back, my mind goes crazy, and usually when I hear/read/see a great story. I hope this doesn't mean I just like to copy and paste. Nonetheless, stories fascinate me more than anything, and I would love to tell one, especially through the medium of a film script one day. This route would definitely be an adventure, though one no doubt filled with restless nights, sweaty evenings, exhaustion, stress, pressure, fear, and constant self-doubt.

Should no school accept me, and even on the slight chance that one does, I've been entertaining the idea of finding a job in the oh so lovely Hong Kong. Hong Kong has become something of another home to me, and I find the prospect of living in Hong Kong again to be quite exciting. After all, Hong Kong has yet to become so familiar that there aren't new things to discover or find. This also provides me with the chance to try other careers, such as the personally hated finance sector (who knows, I may like it), social work, or other areas I may not have considered. It's also...risky. After all, like I said, Hong Kong isn't actually my home.

I realize both of these options are filled with risk, fear, misgivings, but lots of excitement as well. Is this what I enjoy? I can't say I necessarily love the idea of insecurity all the time, but perhaps that's what I need at this stage in life. I have no idea, and for some reason, having no idea and feeling lost and confused, is strangely...consoling.

I feel like ultimately my problem, is that I have such a low standard for my goal in life--all I really want to do is help people, yet I have such a high standard for a job--it must be exciting, adventurous, and not leave me feeling like I'm doing the same thing day in and day out.

The danger of idealism is getting lost in the clouds and staying in the land of fleeting dreams which have no possible chance of ever being grounded. And then, we lose hope when our dreams do not take off.

I know, and feel, I'm dangerously close, to falling off the edge of "getting lost in the clouds." That would be bad thing. I need to keep my goals for my life--job expectation included--in check of reality, while pushing its boundaries. To do otherwise would leave me with no hope in the end.

That would be a disaster. An unmitigated disaster.

Beyond Long Distance Blessings

I often wonder why I felt the need to create another blog.

I'm really suffering from exhaustion. I want to read, study Chinese, write, write, write, but I'm so tired after work that I have no mental energy. It's like, a constant pity party.

I spent a significant time on Facebook today, which is rather unusual for me I think. I looked at pictures of what old friends are doing now, read up on notes, did a little wall stalking, etc.

And for the first time, I felt really distant.

Not far away, in that I'm across the Pacific Ocean, but far away in that, I'm just in a different world and that we've all moved on.

And in some respects, this is probably true. The kid in me hates to admit it, but this is the world in which we live in. We grow up, and we all go our separate ways. We walk in tandem, but we walk along different paths.

Here I am in China being a teacher, while my friends are all over the world, running dolphin shows, becoming TV producers, working as graphic designers, studying to be lawyers, working alongside famous chef celebrities, studying medicine, trying to be a wedding photographer. And none of those people live in the same place. And that's only a handful.

It's interesting that at one point, all our paths crossed. We all met, got to know each other and walked with each other, only to again separate.

It's more so interesting, because once I start thinking about my friends, what they're doing, and how we only see each other maybe once every other month, I inevitably realize that the fact I can wonder about this for so long, says something about how extremely lucky I am.

I've been blessed with a lot of friends at every stage of my life (well, except here in China). I've always had lots of real, close friends in different circles: high school, church, all phases of college, studying abroad in Hong Kong.

I even went ahead and made a list of all my friends that I've kept close to over these years. It's really long. And interestingly enough, the list just gets longer. It never shortens.

I've learned that I trust that I'll make an effort to keep in touch with all my good friends. I should trust that my friends will do the same.

Was I Sick? Did I Cave?

I wasn't feeling too hot yesterday, but nothing to write home about. However, I started feeling worse today. Then, I had a meningitis shot, since there was an outbreak in this town a couple months ago. They said it might give me a fever. But I started feeling bad before it. Did it make it worse? Am I sick? Am I gonna die? Haha, I always jokingly ask myself what I would do if I could only live a life of only twenty something years. After all, some people really do only live that long, for various reasons.

I'm a little skeptical that I can handle being a teacher. I'm probably sick, if not from that shot, from over exhaustion. I'm tired everyday, sleep at least 8 hours, sometimes take a nap, and still, I come home with no energy. I walk about an hour everyday (40 minutes walking round trip from my apartment to my school), and teaching is extremely mentally taxing. Especially teaching a foreign language to a bunch of kids. It requires so much energy, and if they're not feeding back to me (which they're usually not), I leave dead. I originally thought I would get lots of writing done, but I have no energy at the end of the day I can't think, let alone write. It leaves me the weekends, and that's only sometimes, which is sad.

Maybe the fever is why yesterday and today, for the classes which I teach by myself*, I gave all of them a speech. I more or less ran a pseudo class, and somewhere near the end told them in Chinese:

Ok. We can either continue to have class like this, or we can seriously try to learn some English. It's up to you, I don't care.

On the one hand, for the most part, I seemed to connect with most of the students that usually don't give a rat's ass about me. On the other hand, I played the card of defeat:

Also, I know some of you have a hard test(*2) coming up, or would rather do something else. If you want to, listen to music, read a book, do homework for another class, fine. But be quiet. Okay?

My supervisor even told me to do this. "Ignore the people who don't pay attention but are quiet." But isn't that to admit defeat? Isn't that to betray the very ideal of motivating every student in one way or another?

Somewhere in my mind, whether because of all those "inspirational" teacher converts a failing class movies I've seen, other media, or simply my own false dreams of what a teacher should be, I sincerely believe that if I were a good teacher, I would plow through troublemakers, apathetic kids, and those that don't believe they can do it. I wouldn't make them fluent, but I would plant the seeds that would see them desiring to do better than they are now. I would make them see that they can be more than they are now.

So, did I toss in the towel? Did I give up, and let those who don't care(*3) off the hook?

And looking back on it, I was beginning to feel under the weather, so no wonder I mentally couldn't handle it as well as usual. And I know I'm an inexperienced teacher, trying to learn the ropes all the while fending off a billion disadvantages (I'm almost not exaggerating).

But the question still haunts me?

Did I fail?

By the way, I would appreciate any prayers for my health right now if that's your thing.

* - For some reason, the school decided my partner and I would teach the classes who's English is already good, together. The classes that suck and are unmanageable, only get one teacher. Their reasoning is that they want to spend their money (us) on their best students. It makes sense, but sometimes I wonder why they want us to teach these other classes then in the first place. Literally, they've practically given up on them.

*2 - They have this end all test along the line that more or less determines their future. It's as if your college admission were dependent on the SAT, and the SAT alone.

*3 - Some students don't care not because they don't want to improve, but because they know with this super test looming, they're better off working on subjects they can improve more in than English.

Idealism on Trial

Today I unconciously spit on the ground. I needed to. There was something in my throat and I had to get it out.

My first thought was, "Dan...did you really just do that? You've been in China for way too long."

And then I looked at where I spit: the base of a tree and some dirt. Clearly I also unconciously aimed for the tree instead of the concrete street.

"Nope, I'm definitely still American."

***

One of the major issues with teaching is it's ability to erode away any sense of idealism one might have. I don't necessarily consider myself to be the most optimistic person (which isn't to say I'm pessimistic), but I do carry in my mind a strong sense of idealism. And it has given me trouble.

Many of the kids I teach suffer from what I will call, Chinese English Education Syndrome. These kids have apparently learned that words such as koala, lazy, relationship, panda (to name a few), are more important than the ability to listen and understand a sentence, let alone actually construct one.

This means when I give directions for an activity, there are invariably a dozen students who don't understand me. The other day, I gave the class ten minutes to read a short paragraph and discuss it (it was more interesting than it sounds), but one boy couldn't even read it. Because I know not understanding in a language class leads to a downward spiral of unmotivation, I desparately tried to help him understand and make him feel like he could do it. And while at the end he did understand, I ended up neglecting the rest of the class.

That's 39 other students I left in the cold.

And so I leave the class thinking? Was it too difficult? Should I lower the level of my activities?

And of course, I can't. Because at least a third of class clearly understands. The amount of English skills in each class is so varied, it is impossible to plan an activity everyone understands. And those that fall behind, simply tune out or worse, cause more distraction. And even those that understand, often don't care.

I have no idea how to deal with this situation. I try to come up with activities that are easy to understand yet allow room for more advanced students to practice more. I want to help each student. I want to believe that I can change the mentality of those that lack motivation out of the false belief that they're incapable. I want to believe that if I'm creative enough, I'll hit the goldmine that will solve all my problems. My idealist mind tells me that if I'm a good teacher, I'll dig into my bag of magic tricks and whip up a miracle. But too often I'm left leaving the room thinking, I just can't do it.

Perhaps the problem isn't that I can't do it, but that I have an incredible number of other handicaps. To list them now would be too depressing, but perhaps when I need to rant I'll do so.

Let me just say this. My gauge on whether or not my class was successful was if I had fun or not, and whether I feel the class energized me with as much energy as I gave (and I have to give a lot.) Whether or not they learned anything, I have a hard time saying.

Teaching takes a lot of physical and mental energy out of you. And for someone that feeds on the energy of other people, to give a lot, and to be faced with either apathy or unfocused ruckus, I find myself exhausted more often than I'd like to admit.

Questions and Lovers

After a couple days last week, I was convinced Chinese kids have a limited bank of 3 questions they draw from:

-Why do you look Chinese?
-Do you like the NBA?
-Do you have a girlfriend?

I believe only one class failed to ask all three of these. And all three were met with "oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh" and "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." And for those of you who know me rather well, I answered question #3 with a resounding "yes."

In fact, the story of how I met my girlfriend got more and more complex as the days went on. It went from:

-Yes, she's in America, not here, sorry.

to

-Yes. I met her in college, when I was 20. In America we have these huge rooms with 300 students, and one day this girl sat down next to me and spilled coffee on me. And that's how we met.

I wonder if they caught wind of my complexity, because ever since then their questions got even more complex too. Here's a nice sample, grammar corrected.

-What do you think about the Iraq war?
-What do you think about the relationship between America and China?
-When do you think we'll have robots in our houses?

But, my personal favorite.

-How many lovers do you have?

Chinese kids...

Across the Spectrum

I apologize for the lack of updates. My internet's been shakey for some reason.

I've only been teaching for a week, but I feel like I already have experienced the entire spectrum of emotional possibilities.

Every class I teach has their own, personality, of sorts. Unlike in the US, the students are divided by grade, and class--a level of sorts. And they have their own room, which they have nearly every single class in. The teachers change classrooms, not the other way around. But this has the aforementioned side effect: every class then bonds and develops a certain way of treating life. And let's just say, I've seen a lot. To name a few, I have the class who is:

-super excited about everything and wants to have fun.
-super obedient and energetic
-interested but not very skilled
-don't really care but will sort of do what you tell them.
-apathetic
-apathetic and gives me the "why the hell are you trying?" look.
-depressed because they know they can't succeed.

This last class, is a real downer. I don't actually teach the class (my partner does), but I've seen them. As I said, every class is sectioned off by grade and class. This particular one, has been labeled as the "loser" class. Their scores are so low, their academic proficiency so weak, they know, and probably have known, that there's no hope for them for getting into a university, especially since they're so close to taking their all important test that determines if they can get in or not. There's not much we can do. Time has simply run out.

This experience has definitely been very trying on my idealistic mindset.

I think that's enough "depression" for a day.

From the Middle of Nowhere

Ladies and gentlemen, I've officially been outdone. Again.

I'm drowning in a pool of disbelief, unable to grasp the concept that I could be typing this blog entry, in a place as rural as this.

When I think of the internet, certain things, at the very least, come to my mind. Things, such as shabby apartments, next to rowdy cars, pedestrians, or middle class suburban America. Endless grassfields and petrochemical plants, do not.

Among the questions I should be asking myself: Where is the internet cable connecting to? Does anyone else have it? If I have the internet, why don't I have a slightly more well kept toilet? Non run down toilets would absolutely be higher on my priority of civilized neighborhoods than a connection to the internet, let alone broadband.

Shanghai was fun. I didn't like the city at first, but it grew on me. But of course, it made me realize I'm increasingly calling Hong Kong more of my home, and I'm becoming increasingly homesick. I miss the food. I miss the convenience. I miss the energy. I miss being around freaking people. Fireworks within 30 feet of me, doesn't cut it.

I would guess part of this post is also a plea to the outside world. It's lonely here in Jiujiang (where?). Send me e-mails. I need to know that I'm connected to some place farther than these endless grass fields, some place beyond this dense fog and smog, that somehow, I'm doing something worthwhile.

Departure Round Two

I'm sitting here on my computer in my uncle's flat/apartment in Hong Kong, wondering one simple thing:

What the hell was I thinking?

In about 12 hours I'll be once again jumping on a plane to China, and I can't stop asking myself, "why"? Why am I going to China? What is it that I wanted to accomplish? What did I want to give?

I don't really have the answers, and somehow I wonder...do I need them?

On the flight to Hong Kong, I felt this twinge of regret. It wasn't a regret that I was doing something somewhat adventurous, but more so a nervousness about giving up a relatively stable, yet for the most part uneventful life--a daily routine that I got used to. Which made me think, no wonder most people, once they get stuck in a job, stay there. We always talk about going off and taking risks and being adventurous and this and that. But when it really comes down to it, it takes a lot of courage to keep going in the face of risks, and in the face of all the self-doubt and questions we ask ourselves, let alone the questions others ask us.

And then there's pursuing your dreams. Dreams are scary things. They ask so much of you, require so much commitment, and in the end most dreams are fleeting--as they are in real life--because discovering your true passions is filled with countless "maybe"s, "almost"s, and "sort of but not really"s.

Do I really know what I'm doing? Do I really want to be a writer? Do I have the passion it takes to go through with it? Do I really want to spend my life running around rescuing people (which is really only a small chunk of the time)? Do I really want to sit in front of a classroom of kids who don't really respect me because they don't understand that teachers are real people? (I know I didn't.)

Should I be asking these questions?

This trip already has me asking if I'm ready for this "grown up" world. People have always labeled me as one of those "mature" people. And I always respond with, "I feel like a little kid." Not because I just want to run around and live in my own world, but because, to a degree of honesty, I sincerely feel like, I can't survive, in this grown up world.

But in the end, I just have to sit back, and tell myself...

Kid, just go. Go, do good, bring hope. Ask questions later. And keep doing these things until the questions become irrelevant.

Hong Kong, you've always been good to me. Now, it's time to try something different.

The First Turn

It's always a weird feeling to start a new blog, even though this is probably the 20th blog I've begun in my past 8 or so years of posting to an online journal.

Although I'm not too fond of Blogger's lack of graphical options, templates, and other missing features, it seems that this is the only journal site that will work in China during my stay. Either way, it's the content that makes the page right? I hope that this will be a blog I take seriously, take time to write in, as well as develop some ideas and a real voice.

And of course, it should be fun. So anyway, here we go.