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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
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...
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...
Monday, April 14, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
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.
***
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.
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