The Curse

I remember waking up every morning in 3rd grade and my first thought being, "I wonder if the Celtics won last night?" At that point in my life we didn't have cable, so I couldn't watch any Celtic home games just the away games on UPN and even then I wasn't usually allowed to stay up to watch them. So every morning I'd wake up and take a superstitious walk downstairs to the kitchen making sure to hit each step just right. I'd sit down at the kitchen table, yank out the Boston Globe sports section, and take a peek.

That year was their worst year in history I believe, 15-67. Their coach was ML Carr, starting center was Eric Montross, power forward was Dino Radja he led the team in scoring, small forward was Rick Fox (although it might have also been Eric Williams I think), shooting guard was usually Dee Brown, and the starting point was David Wesley. That was the team. It was before the antics of Antoine Walker, before Paul Pierce hogging the ball, before KG and Ray Allen made being a Celts fan cool again.

Yet, I also wonder if my undying faith in the Celtics was also related to their drought. The last championship the Celtics won was in 1986, the year I was born. I used to believe that I was going to be the savior for this historic team. They'd get continually farther away from their glorious past until David Wang brought them back towards the light. But now I'm wondering if perhaps it was the opposite. I was what brought the curse upon the Celts. In '87 they made it to the championship game again, but lost to the Lakers. And after that there was one anomalous appearance in the Eastern Championship, and a lot of painful playoff-less years. And now, I'm here in Beijing, and when I'm in the States I spend most of my time in LA (who took a turn for the worst after my arrival I might include), and those Celts are incredible. 19-2 and undefeated at home! I remember hating Jordan and the Bulls for having that kind of record.

So I wonder, am I the curse? Did my faith in the 15-62 team encourage that kind of performance? And upon my leave, the Celtics took their chance to regain glory? Aiya, I probably shouldn't go back after Beijing. But what a year to live in Boston. Red Sox have already won their championship, and the Celts and Pats are on their way. The last time things were like this was a long time ago, 1986.

the other abroad experience

Last night I went out to $7 all-you-can-eat/all-you-can-drink sushi. I'll say right now that it was a great deal. It wasn't only sushi and beer, but also deep-fried chicken, edamame, salad, etc. etc. etc. and it was all made to order, none of that bacteria-filled hot plate bullshit. But that's all unimportant, you'll find that surprisingly good value (when measured with the American dollar) is everywhere you go in China, 到处可见。

What IS important is who I was eating with and how much fun it was. (Now before I continue, I'd like to first state for the record that I like ACC, I think it's the best study abroad language program in the world, and that I've had a delightful, albeit painful, experience there.) After accepting an invitation from a friend at ACC to hike all the way across town to meet up with her college friend at Qinghua University, I found myself sitting down with about 20 strangers at one of those Japanese tables where they make you take off your shoes and there's paper walls surrounding you should you ever have the urge to start taking notes or something. Surrounding the table were what I imagine are a group of your more typical study abroad students doing what the more typical study experience might encompass.

There were a bunch of Australian-Chinese, a British-Chinese girl, a hilarious dude from the Netherlands, a Bible-toting Tennessee-er, some Japanese girls, Korean girls, my ACC friend and her friend, and me. To be honest we were all strangers, it's just these Qinghua students had had a semester to get used to it. Everyone was just so goddamn curious, happy, and fun. I'm never good at describing reality, so I'll just say that I found myself laughing more than I have for the past six months in Beijing as the Australian/British-Chinese all made fun of the the guy from Tennessee and the Dutch guy because "white people would never dare to suck a fish head." I nearly doubled over when the Dutch guy began to describe some food saying that it was like "an angel pissing in your mouth." (Apparently a direct translation from Dutch.) Then I did double over when a couple Australian guys began betting on whether or not the Tennessee guy could catch a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. And somewhere between the smiles and laughs, I managed to have some really interesting conversations with the Australian girl, my friend's friend, and the Dutch guy.

I know I didn't describe that right. The ability escapes me and I apologize. I have never been one for telling stories, the gene is probably absent in my family line. But the point I want to make is that, I regret not being able to have this kind of study abroad experience. The kind where you CAN speak english, but you still are meeting amazing people from around the world. Maybe I just like Australian accents too much or something, but I think I missed out on a lot by not being able to meet the motley groups students that many study abroad programs entail.

Concerning our future.

We're all gonna die.

bookin'

me and my teacher, fang dong, at a water park

So I'm reading a book.

Always have been jealous of those who perpetually have a book that they're in the midst of reading. Those who faithfully chip away at a daunting list of "Books to read" which grows at a geometric rate. (I know it as the Inverse-Malthusian Theory).

At first I thought it was just cool. I remember some girls once talking about how "cute" (the sexy "cute" not the emasculating demeaning one) it was that one of my friends always had a book popping out of his back pocket as he walked through our high school corridors. But, I couldn't even find the self-discipline to carry a book around as an accessory much less open the thing.

It's not that I don't like reading, it's just that I'm guilty of... oh what's that sin again? ... Gluttony, that's right. I'm guilty of gluttony. If I'm gonna eat, then why not eat till a little past full. Sleeping? Take that extra hour(s). Reading? Devour the book in an hour. I don't pace myself, can't stand it. It's not that I continually am transgressing, however I am prone to the sin known as gluttony I suppose.

The problem is, I read s l o w l y

Thus, I need I a lot of time to gluttonize a book. I need a good three days of concentration to gulp it all down. It's not like watching a Full House marathon where time is measured out for ya. You allot the time for yourself. So I gluttonize the time and the book.

And I don't like being a sinner. In fact, knowing that I'm prone to gluttony, I overcompensate by making spartan like goals and schedules for myself. My 2nd semester of college, I rose as the bell struck 6 in the morn' to go jogging simply because I was killing the demon within me. So, with books, I'd love to read my eyes out, but it's just too wasteful. I consuming too much time is dangerous. In fact, I'm willing to bet large quantities of time is the number one cause of death amongst 99% of all species, and we still have no cure! (The 1% probably being the incredible number of domesticated livestock who die by the proverbial "blade" as opposed to nature's clock.) So I'm not the well-read scholar who scans pages with a glance of the fingers and throws the book into the pile labeled "Memorized." (But I do tuck I a small pedigreed paperback in alongside my wallet from time to time.)

So I'm reading a book now. Wish I had time to do it more. But then again I also wish I had more time to sleep, more time to think, and more time to have more time too, so where does that leave me.

In other news, I'm procrastinating even when I have nothing to do. At least that's how I feel. Not healthy, David. Not healthy.

OK. A question that's been on my mind for quite a long time now: Are we all born with different energy levels?

I'd say this question arose from its latency about the time I went to Pomona. After the first semester of college adrenaline wore off, I found myself taking naps, procrastinating, and just generally feeling tired. But then I began to notice that there were these people, and they just don't stop. I mean it's not just that they'd pull all nighters, but they'd be happy the next day too. There was even this one girl (and I have noticed without any real statistic data keeping that the majority of the supercharged people have been female) who stayed up 72 hours straight and smiled the whole time!

So what is it?

I find it interesting that these Energizer Bunnies seem more prevalent amongst the college students than they did in high school. Is this one of those correlations of success along with IQ, economic status, and all that other stuff? It'd make sense, right?

But more importantly how do they do it? If I'm tired, I can't work, I can't think, I'm useless, I'm unhappy, etc. Are they simply just better at putting their fatigue in the backs of their minds? Or have they trained their minds to be stronger? Or were they born with it?

And were those great people, those people we all like to look up to for their accomplishments, amazing thoughts, and contributions to society, did they have an endless supply of spinach too?

You always gotta write something when something is done

4th year students and teachers

So I graduated from ACC. I got a nice diploma with my Chinese and English names on it to prove the hell that I went through. But despite getting up at 6 AM every morning, despite studying thousands of Chinese characters, despite it all, I already miss the ACC life. There's something reassuring in knowing what your're doing, why you're doing it, and where it's taking you. But now all those short but big questions are creeping back out and their shadows are once again obscuring clarity. Already.

Thoreau wrote, "Simplify. Simplify. Simplify!... Simplicity of life and elevation of purpose."

I write, "Elevate your life by simplifying your purpose."

I have a friend who before I left told me, "I hope you change a lot while you're abroad." At the time I feigned being offended. (Who likes being told that they need to change?) But in my heart I agreed. I hoped I would change too.

So here I am. I'm picturing myself stepping off the plane- the plane that just took me miles from the six months I spent in Beijing. I step off wearing my black, Italian-style, fitted suit, leather shoes, a black dress shirt, no tie, sunglasses, and a look of confidence. My head's shaved like my little brother's. Maybe even a little smirk because I know that I've got a tattoo on my upper back that nobody can see.

But what is change?

Change is a noticeable difference between two points in time. But I'm beginning to believe that we've all got this core that is unchangeable. Or maybe I'm just not capable of changing it. Sure I've changed, I have more knowledge and less hair, more languages and less words, more friends and less time for them all, more experiences. But then again it's always like that. Do we ever change or are we always in the constant progression of life?

We come and go. It must all look so random from the bird's eye view. We meet to part and part to meet.

Yammin'

It's cold in Beijing. Everyday the temperature hovers above freezing so that you just kinda wish it'd freeze already. Thankfully, my apartment has heating now, but when you're walking around Beijing your breath always floats a few feet in front of your eyes and everyone has that winter chin tuck that you only really know about if you're from a cold place. It's kind of like Boston.

But Beijing knows how to do cold better than Boston. On almost every block there's a tam vendor. He has this iron barrel on the back of his three-wheeled bike thing, and uses it as a roaster of sorts. He parks (probably illegally) by the sidewalk and warms the vicinity with the toasted aroma of yams. There's a lot of things to smell in Beijing, not many of them pleasant, but I think we all know that the smell of roasting yams on a cold winter day is three steps away from heaven but two away from gluttony. This is the smell that every Advent season should be saturated with. Lysol should makes this scent. New car smell? Forget it.

And the best is in those precious moments when the Yam man (or woman) bikes past with her portable roaster and the smell graces the olfactory senses for a brief but all the more warming moment.

Classical Chinese

me and one of my (very cute) teachers after ACC's "China Night" presentation on Fri night

Supposedly our curriculum is split into four different classes each semester. We supposedly have a media/news class, modern chinese, and some other stuff, but in reality each day is just another string of four chinese classes all based on the same text. The distinction is there, some weeks we watch movies or TV programs, but in terms of rhythm of life, there is little difference.

However, there is one class that throws adds a little snare to the otherwise onerous drum set that is ACC. Classical Chinese is ridiculous. Every now and then, sometimes once a week sometimes twice, the teachers throw in a little Classical Chinese instead of a third straight class of grammar/vocab practice (read: torture). However, Classical Chinese, while undeniably a departure from monotony, is not quite a departure from the mundane tedium. Yet, I've found nuggets of starlight nestled between the characters of these ancient texts.


The first thing you need to know about Classical Chinese (which I'm going to stop capping henceforth) is that it's another language. Remember reading Shakespeare or perhaps Dante in translation? That was usually tough but understandable with the footnotes right? Classical chinese is like that, but every single word has a footnote, grammar is even more fluid than regualr Chinese, a single character can have one or two pronunciations and multiple meanings, and some characters have no specific meaning whatsoever. And so as I walked into my classical chinese final this morning, how did I prepare? I just memorized it all. We had five texts on the final, and I made a branding iron with out of them and burnt it into my cerebellum or whatever part of the brain neurologists believe short-term memory is located. I say short-term because, unlike skin, branding on seems to be less permanent. As I write this entry moments after my final, I can already see the smoke clearing and the imprints fading.

Anyhow, I memorized the translations (I say translation because classical chinese and modern chinese are exactly that, two different languages albeit they use the same pictographs). But what really helps is understanding the story. Those ancient chinese philosophers... aiya! They were crazy, but oh so funny!

One of the texts is about this guy who is in love (the character used is "ai" which in modern chinese means "to love" but in classical chinese means "to like", I prefer the former) with the monkeys he's raising. He can understand their language, and gives them everything their little hearts desire. But b/c of this he ends up spending all his cash on his little monkey gang, and has to start rationing. But he's scared of the monkeys' reaction. So he tells them, "I'll give you guys three bananas (actually the translation is some kind of acorn, but we all know modern monkeys eat bananas) in the morning, and four bananas at night, is that enough?" And the monkeys, who are lounging in luxury, jump to their feet and start screeching and howling in anger. Then this monkey-lover guy endures for a while and says, "OK,OK, OK. I'll give you FOUR bananas in the morning, and THREE bananas at night, alright?" And the monkeys all settle down, and start lounging again.

Hilarious? Yes. And this little story boils down to a modern day Chinese saying, "Morning Three, Night Four" which is used to describe inconsistency.

The other stories are just as trippy if not more.

ACC 的一天 (Pt. 1)

This is as authentic a representation of the program I've been enrolled in for the past 6 months. It's packed full of inside jokes, but hopefully still find it amusing.

My roommate and I made it for our China Night presentation. It's a little long so I had to split it into two parts. The second part is below.

ACC 的一天 (Pt. 2)

I hate the smell of bullshit.

- David Wang

thanksgiving

So as everyone back home was most certainly watching football, I stood in my apartment hallway watching some bus repairmen play soccer during their lunch break. Thanksgiving Thursday.... ahhhhhhh. I just finished giving a 25-minute presentation on street basketball to my teachers and classmates. I dare pat myself on the back for it since at the end one of my classmates who I barely know jumped out his seat to applaud it. And now I'm trying to relax and be thankful.

Thankful that I'm almost done. Thankful that I think my Chinese has improved. Thankful that I have the life that I have. Thankful.

1 Month and Counting

ACC's trip to Shanghai.

The last few weeks have been tough. I had to finish up the documentary I was making for Pomona. It's funny how you can feel so far behind straight until you're done. And when you're done you still think you're behind. The night I finished my video with subtitles and everything, I drop my laptop on the floor.

I believe there's some kind of 9/10ths mentality where a person mentally just can't complete things. They get 90% of it done but can't finish. I don't know if I subconsciously victim to this condition, but I stupidly put my laptop on my chair whose back was loaded with heavy jackets throwing the distribution of weight precariously off balance. Thus, with a little nudge the chair tipped over backwards and my computer along with my my newly subtitled 1st cut of "Beijing Ballers" fell to the floor, flickered, and shutdown. And of course I couldn't get it to start up.

At that point I went insane. It's tough enough when you're in China, at ACC, only speaking and Chinese for 5 months straight, but when your project falls off a chair, there's no sitting down. So I began to run around the apartment swearing in English. I opened the window and yelled. I complained to my Chinese roommate about how we needed carpets so this kind of thing wouldn't occur. I kicked the fallen chair into the fetal position. And then did a lot more swearing and banging.

My roommates, regardless of whether or not they understood the foul English spilling from my mouth, just watched in awe and fear.

Then I opened up my computer, popped in the Windows CD, and repaired windows. And everything was as it should of been. So I closed the window, picked up the chair, and started speaking Chinese again.

I'm ready to go home. Lately, my Chinese has been floating lazily in a stagnant pool of apathy. If anything it will drown itself. The granola that I've been getting on sale from the foreign section in the grocery store is now even more on sale, but but by the third straight month of eating the shit I wasn't all too thrilled by the price reduction. My individual report (also on Chinese streetball) is a string of senseless Chinese. Yesterday, I went and interviewed a representative from Adidas about basketball and was subtly reminded that even in English my tongue possesses little advantage. The tattoo I was planning fell through much the to pleasure of those back home who urged me to reconsider. And I'm perpetually tired.

At least Thanksgiving is next week. Although even that doesn't mean much since we still have to go to school.

School

A couple weeks ago some ACC students volunteered to go a school established for migrant workers' kids. Because most migrant workers are not official residents of Beijing, their kids are not eligible for Beijing's public schools. Thus, this school was established with private funds.

We really did not do much, other than observe and play with the kids. I bought Curious George in Chinese and attempted to read it to some 5-year-olds, but there were many points where I replaced certain details with my own because I didn't recognize the characters. But I think they were all just more interested in hearing me speak Chinese than the curious little monkey.

The conditions at the school are definitely poor by any standards. We ate the lunch that the kids were having and besides the taste being barely paletteable, there was almost no nutritional value. It was all rice, potatoes, and cabbage.

But the kids that Caroline and I are reading to in this video were truly amazing. The little 10-year-old boy knew EVERY SINGLE country's capital. Everything from Australia (who's capital, I was surprised to discover, is not Sydney nor Melobourne) to Venezuela, this little guy knew them ALL.

It's an interesting dilemma. These migrant workers are literally the entire force behind Beijing's rapid development and beautification, but they are forced to throw down their own money to educate their kids. And even this money is not enough to provide adequate conditions.

real eyez

I'm pretty sure there's time when words can spill from your fingers. Today, is not one of them, nor are most. But I find myself wondering about the world, so I might as well type away.

I was walking home from dinner today and realized one on those things that's right in front of your face but veiled by the monotony of everyday life. Within the walls of my apartment complex there's a little fruit and vegetable stand. The couple that owned the stand were closing up. It was dark and getting progressively frigid. They had hung a tarp to protect their produce from Beijing's freezingness, and were beginning to cook their dinner outside on the sidewalk on a small gas stove. It smelled great as I walked by, so I looked twice. First glances tend to be cursory, second glances tend to aroused by a need for more substance. And it was on glance number two that I realized what I already knew, this couple lived with the fruits of their labor. (I just liked how that sounds, but the meaning is weak.) But their fruit stand is the same as their home. Their kitchen is the sidewalk. Squatting down in front of their front door for light and heat, they ate their food.

Beijing is getting cold. Really cold. Every night in our apartment, I'm freezing, and getting up in the morning is impossible. Beijing still hasn't turned on the heat. It's hard to imagine that this couple sleeps in their fruit stand in the depth of winter.

So something I already knew became real to me. And I think it's important to mention that this is life in Beijing. And as easy as it is label this couple's standard of living poor or unfair, such a description doesn't fit.

命运

Do you believe in fate?

Is there a road laid out before you leading towards destiny? And will straying from this path possible? And who exactly walked has this path before you to make it so 顺利 for lack of a better word?

Frost took the path less traveled, but did not dare mention the possibility blazing his own path. And what about today? The decision placed before a person like myself might be more aptly described as the hub innumerable city streets, high speed highways, and air routes. Were the decision as simple as two paths, trampled and untrampled, perhaps the idea of fate would seem less appealing. The number two is prime for analysis: Yes or no? Good or bad? Will or won't? The word "or" was designed for dissecting 2. The human mind can handle 2. But how does our vocabulary reflect 3? Shakespeare's love triangles end in tragedy. 4? Descartes' Cartesian quadrants. 23? Micheal Jordan? 383? 9630? 1.3435? We spend enough time defining our lives with bipolar pairs of words. Can we really handle an infinite amount?

Of course, this is assuming less is simpler and more is more difficult. Computers don't drive cars (at least not yet) because they can't handle the "infinite" amount of variables necessary to make left turns at an intersection. They lack judgment. But that being said, humans can rarely decide between paper and plastic.

And yet, despite it all do you believe in fate? A single road calling your name to come home. Interestingly enough, I base my most of my theories about fate on a cheap teen movie, Can't Hardly Wait. The protagonist, Preston, is graduating from high school, and he thinks- No- he knows this girl (played by Jennifer Love Hewitt) is the one. All the signs point to it. I mean, this girl's eats his favorite flavor of Pop Tart. And throughout high school he watches from afar, as she dates the quarterback. And on the last part of high school after graduation, he wants to give her a letter about it all, but chickens out or something, I forget. But the point is he throws the letter away, but it finds its way to Jennifer Love Hewitt anyway. She reads it and is moved, but Preston's already left and she has no idea who he is. 当时, he's sitting on the hood of his car despairing over the cruelty of fate, when he realizes or the song he's listening to makes him realize: Destiny exists, but there comes a point when destiny can't work on its own, a point where you decide to jump or not to jump. In other words, the destiny's path can be effortless if you want it to be, but there comes a point when it needs a little faith.

Anyway, he gets the girl, and I've based a lot of my ideas about fate on this movie. (interesting, how media is affecting our lives these days) The lessons we learn in class, read in books, see on TV, always emphasize the one's ability to seize fate when it comes before you. Some may say it is simply seizing the opportunity, but I think there's still a subtle difference that is not mentioned on all these stories: The ability to see clearly, even if it isn't clear to others, and trust it. How did Ali know he was The Greatest? We look at Ali's work ethic, his lyrical sayings, and his records. But how did he know that boxing was worth it? When he was 11 or 12, his brand new bike was stolen, and he was pissed. So he went looking. He came across a gym, and knew that in addition to getting his bike back he wanted a little vengeance. And so he started boxing. But how did he recognize it? How did Preston convince himself that the Pop Tart thing was not a coincidence? It's so easy not to believe in fate, to let decide to stop following a path that has been tailored especially for you because it doesn't add up.

Yet things catch our eye. Things that computers wouldn't see: Pop tarts and stolen bikes. And these signs give us what Intel would define as "irrational" hope. But when is hope rational?

I'm sitting here in this coffee shop. What catches my eye? The inside of my coffee cup reflects the intervals of my sips with tree-trunk-like rings of dried coffee. But the Bob Marley in my headphones has sung about 15 songs now, but I couldn't tell one. And what does this say about my fate?

One, I might have a lot of trouble sleeping tonight. Caffeine after 5 o'clock rarely agrees with me.

Two, I don't really think it means anything in relation to my official future, but who knows. Maybe, somebody will read this post and be moved by my words and invest in me. Or the girl of my dreams will realize that she also has noticed that her coffee cup is painted with rings of five minute sips. But a computer my computer predicates, nothing much will happen. But who knows?

What does this ramble add up too? I think I'm destined. I always have. But I fear I don't have what it takes grasp destiny when it presents itself. Actually, I change my mind, I don't believe in fate, except for the fact that if I keep writing I'll be fated to fail my midterm.




me and my chinese roommate actin' gangsta.

interesting chengyu's/sayings:

现在，我又健康又经历。 我们都应该往往逃课休息休息。



站着坑不拉屎- sit on the toilet without shitting (to be present but not working)
打狗，得看主人- before beating a dog find out who the owner is
吹牛皮- to blow cow hide (talk bullshit)
牛B- cow B, (to be honest i don't really know what this means but the response i get after using it depends on my audience, old teachers try to kill me and young teachers laugh, "fuckin' tight" might be a close approximation)
狼心狗肺- wolf's heart, dog's lungs (cruel, heartless)
女子无才便是德- dumb women are virtuous (apparently stems from Confucius or something)
狗改不了吃屎- can't make a dog stop eating shit (can't teach an old dog new tricks)


Anyway, I'm obviously growing ; )

back from xi'an

Sometimes it feels like I've been anchored in the stream of time. A moment repeated and repeated; the only changed is the weather outside. Coming back from our class field trip to Xi'an, I felt the trickle of monotony dripping slowly on the back on my mind.

But there is something different about going to school in Beijing, especially here at ACC. Everyday is literally the same: daily quiz, four classes, lunch, nap, workout, HW, study, dinner, study, sleep. Yet, I enjoy the self-enforced discipline that ACC inspires. What makes it more amazing is that "grades" at ACC are inflated to the point where it doesn't matter how hard you work, yet everyone here works to the limits of their patience and beyond. Perhaps, it's because our progress, though not obvious, is recognizable. Everyday we learn at least one new word or grammar structure that makes our lives seem all the more clearer.

Of course, there is the complaint that we have NO time to explore, no time to use our language, no time to rest. They're all valid. But the feeling of improvement is a powerful motivator for me. It allows me to sacrifice a lot. But then again, I'm taking the day off today to recover from a minor cold and catch up on life, something that's subtly accepted at ACC.

David and Andrew go to White Castle

A video my brother and I made over the summer

Tales Of Mere Existence

I love this guy.

mornings after

my head is throbbing from a night of gallivanting. i'm tired and hungry. it's pouring outside. my roommates are asleep or dead in their rooms. and somebody up above has decided that hammering is his new hobby.

the apartment is cold and dark. i haven't bothered to turn on any lights, and the windows are open. i'm waiting on an email to come flying in, but it's yet to arrive. expectations of the unknown are torturous.

last night was nothing special, just another night to be added to the list of drinking, crazy dancing, and late-night philosophizing. hemingway wrote in one of those books of his, that night and day are two entirely different worlds. the night gives birth to hopes that day can only be pregnant with. but hemingway forgot to mention the third world, the morning after. a small, gaseous planet gray with disappointment.

and thus, i wait. for nothing really. i should start editing my video. i should go to the gym. i should go back to bed. i should do a lot of things. and the worst part is i don't know what i want to do.

but last night was really fun and eventful, don't get me wrong.

mediums of self and meaning

Sometimes I wish I could slip out of this blog and stop trying to find words to capture the world and the mind. Sometimes I wish I could be broadcast loud, clear, and free. And upon reception, the receiver would display with crystal clarity the fuzziness of thought; be it emotional, rational, or kinetic.

I sometimes think that if, in some other world during some other time, it was possible for someone else to BE me for just a day but still maintain their own objective identity, I'd be able to learn a lot. So much time is spent these days discovering how humans are more similar than we ever thought: DNA, psychological conditioning, instinctual tendencies, etc. And then we spend the rest of the time, breaking these models apart, finding difference: racism, classes, genders, etc. And then, maybe when you get older, I think you just kind of give up spending/wasting your time on these questions: Balance.

Nevertheless, I want to be free of the boundaries separating self from medium, medium from audience, and audience from their selves. Just for a day, I want to know: Although my life is normal, am I? Am I simply a bunch of electric signals flying around a brain? And if I am, is the motion and behavior of the electric signals at least unique?

Want me to relate this to China? Too easy, because this is life's boundary-less question. The mortar making up the foundations of countries, cultures, and languages is exactly this question. And when it dries, the foundation is strong enough for the structure to be raised, and it's interior inhabitated. But the answer's are shallow, the foundation can only support so tall a tower. The Bible warns us about trying to build to heaven, does it not? Religion, nationalism, and even science fail to take you beyond. What is China? A guessed answer to this question, shared by many.

me and some acc kids at the talib kweli concert (one of my favorite musicians). who would of thought he would come to beijing to perform?

I'm here checking out the Women's World Cup, Liwei, my Chinese roommate by my side. I'm procrastinating to the full effect. Brazil looks strong. They absolutely destroyed the US in the semi-finals. They were quicker, faster, more motivated, more creative, and it just liked they were their to play. And they're doing the same against Germany.

I have 170 vocab to memorize, and i can't bring myself to start chipping away at it. Yet, when it comes down to it, I like having an incredibly intense schedule. I like working my ass off. Memorizing words, grammar structures, etc. I like the discipline or it all. But it takes a toll on you. It's a question temptation. The longer you persist the stronger the temptation becomes to stop until you hit a point when, all of sudden, it's second nature. Almost easy. And then it's not discipline any more. Then it's just laziness. I've hit the point where discipline becomes monotony and monotony has become given me the feeling of laziness and laziness has brought me dissatisfaction. But I still like it here. Just sometimes I wanna chill without planning ahead.

Anyway, it's halftime. 0-0. My money's on 巴西 (Brazil). Number 10, Marta, is simply spectacular. She tore apart the US. It looked like she hurt her ankle in the first half, but she's still running as fast as ever. My prediction: if Brazil doesn't score in the 1st three minutes of the 2nd half, expect a Brazil win in overtime off a Marta goal.

21

the view out of my bedroom's window every morning, one of the many perks to getting up at 6 everyday

Her palm pressed against mine. I sighed closing my eyes. Kittens with whiskers. Raindrops on roses. Silky hands. They explored my naked skin dressing it with the silk of her touch. Never had I felt so clothed while naked.

Well, nearly naked. The hands left, I heard the squirt of oil, and then welcomed their return as they kneaded my triceps. There are certain places on the human body that you wouldn't expect to feel to like silky goodness when rubbed, squeezed, and touched. Kind of like deposits of relaxation waiting to be mined by the hands that can pull the sword from the stone. This girl knew them all. She obviously had found my treasure map and knew where to dig, and I was reaping the rewards. Triceps are surprisingly susceptible to squeezing. The palm of the hand when stretch and fingers when pinched were heavenly. The feet, oh the feet...

I'm pretty sure I would've enjoyed the legs, particularly the calves and quads if it weren't for the hair. Next time I go for an oil massage, I think I'll shave them. Otherwise, it's not a wholly unenjoyable sensation, but the pulling of leg hair doesn't fit mesh per se with rest of the menu.

Twenty-one, a socially-constructed right of passage for many young Americans, feels not much older than twenty. But then again perhaps the very apathy with which I approach the age is representative of maturity, the conscious and honest recognition of Self in all its forms. I've learned to laugh a little bit more. My parents sent me slippers and a scarf, my friends here thought it was cute. I wore the scarf on my head like a Russian grandmother, and I'm wishing I was wearing the slippers right now in the coffee shop because the AC is freezing my sandled feet. I've learned to recognize limits. It is simply impossible for me to sleep 6 hours a night for a whole week and expect to feel good on Friday. And I've learned that "limits" are simply blueprints for comfort; they are not the fringe of ability.

Last night, I opted on the side of comfort. I could have crossed border of my limits, tested the limits of my alcohol tolerance. But, after a week of work that'd take too much energy. So my roommate, our friend Tiffany, and I went to "Oriental Taipan" for massages. It was my birthday celebration. We got there around 12 AM just as they were closing. They sent us to a room: dimly lit, highly fragrant, personal shower, robes, sink, etc. We were royalty. They brought us fruit, tea, and boxer shorts.

I changed into the boxers, lay down on the massage bed, and enjoyed.

I woke up at eight this morning, despite the fact that I went to bed around 2 AM. I think the massage counted for a good three hours of sleep. I'm feeling good and ready to march on. The slippers my parents gave are actually the most comfortable things in the world. I'm listening to Dave Matthews Band. I got tickets to see Talib Kweli in Beijing on Tuesday. It's Saturday. I just spoke English on the phone for a good hour. It's really been the good life. Year 22, I've arrived.




(P.S. for a blog ten times better than mine, a incredibly well written and insightful description of travels in Morocco, check out this link: http://www.speakingspice.blogspot.com/. For those of you who know her, it's Lauren's, one of my good friends I went to Xi'an with three years ago. My word time flies.)

The Mid-Autumn Festival

Last night, I walked into my host families apartment and was greeted by a 91-year-old granny equipped with a perfect set of teeth that refused to stop chattering. As it has been explained to me, the Mid-Autumn Festival is a time for families to come together eat dinner and mooncakes, write poems of hope and thanks, and gaze at a full moon. Perhaps this holiday was originally intended to celebrate the end of the harvest when the food and drink were abundant, back-breaking work had finally come to an end, and the family could relax together, but today this has been replaced with new modern reasons: college, work, retirement, etc. Families rarely get a chance to come together and enjoy a meal.

And there were me and my roommate facing a the most vivacious 91-year-old I'd ever met. She showed us the Sudokus that she'd had finished that day, she peeled passion fruit for us, and she did stop talking for a minute. The rest of the family was there. The mother packing the last few dumplings. The father trying to find a way to open the iced tea bottle. The two brothers sitting across from us with their wives discussing work, school, and work. It was a family.

I remember reading somewhere that back in the 70's and 80's (and earlier I'm sure) that as soon as winter hit Beijing, the corner stores selling vegetables, fruits, and eggs became vendors of white cabbage, nothing else. And cabbage was the only food there was. But, our table was a spectrum of colors. Peanuts, seaweed, calamari, shrimp, tofu, tomatoes, edamame, and pork-stuffed dumplings. Endless bowls of dumplings.

And somewhere between the 45th and 46th dumpling your mind begins to see something new.

Amongst all the reports of dangerous toys, paper stuffed steamed buns, and Steven Spielberg's qualms with China's human rights, where are the reports about the "2nd most important holiday of the year?" With pollution shortening the lifespan of some amazing percentage of Chinese by 10 years, where are the reports about grannies that fill out Sudoku puzzles like they were the address section of an application? And with foreign businesses wetting their pants over cultivating Chinese youth's growing consumer culture, where are the reports about two foreigners sitting awkwardly, unsure how to act, how to speak?

China has changed but it is not in the midst of extremist revolution. The people here are excited about the 2008 Olympics, they greet foreigners with interest, and they have the time and food to gather and relax. There is brightness in Beijing, it's not all propaganda. The Western media spends a lot of time focusing on the negative in China, and they do have a lot to choose from, but it is not as dark as their forecasts purport. Political oppression, pollution, corruption, they are all problems but humans have an interesting ability to find happiness despite. Is it adaptation? Cultural relativism? Or simply optimism?

Perhaps, something you don't hear in the media very often is that the Chinese can laugh despite the exhaust that chokes Beijing. While the one-party-rule democracy here attempts to control information and expression at times, they don't dare touch the volume dial of Chinese laughter, conversation, life.

I guess what I'm saying here is that Beijing and China is not a dangerous or sad place. The emotion of fear doesn't rule, as the media insinuates. While the quality of life might not be as good, the taste for life has not diminished. The values of culture, morality, and society are not hiding from the CCP and neither are their people.

So, gazing at the moon as we walked back to study hundreds of vocab words, I felt fed up. Dumplings can do that to you, but so can biased reporting. The language is hard, the culture is hard, and the life is hard for any reporter who must live in China or Beijing, but beyond that is an abundance of life. (or maybe it's not the reporters but the companies they work for, or perhaps the demands of the consumer, who knows?)


probably a lot of typos, missed words, and grammatical errors, but i've been speaking chinese for four months straight w/o an ounce of english. forgive me.

List of things to achieve before I die

I've heard that some people have a list of things they want to do before they die, or perhaps a better way of putting it, is a list of things to enjoy in life. Either way, I find the idea depressing cause if you complete the list then why live, and if you don't then I guess you overestimated your living skills.

But what the hell:

1) start a barbershop
2) name it treasure maps. inc.
3) eventually incorporate the barbershop into the community
4) start a restaurant next to the barbershop and have door connecting the two from the inside
5) learn how to cut hair and cook food
6) start publishing real treasure maps
7) make myself a treasure map
8) buy a yacht
9) sail the world
10) never find the treasure but have a perspective changing life adventure
11) get a tattoo
*
**
***




*failure to complete list indicates attainment of higher enlightenment therefore negating the proceeding agreement to achieve a sense of fulfillment through use of aforementioned list as it is representative of a lower karmic plane.

** completion of aforesaid list will indicates transcendence into enlightenment and thus refer to clause/asterisk 1 in regards to contract validity following transcendence into nirvana, mental clarity, feeling of achievement.

***contract validity contingent upon list maker's full and continuous agreement.


so far i'm 0 for 11, but i did shave my head yesterday and boil some frozen dumplings. i also thing any kind of list like this that anyone makes has gotta have a loophole/clause/asterisk

A tail of two tigers

two tigers tossed to time
trapped 'tween two trails

their tail tied to time's two thumbs
the time tells the truth

the truth tells the tigers,
"the toll to travel to tomorrow:

today"

adidas bball tournement

This video is kinda old, but I realized I haven't posted any videos in a long time. I made this video in early August, when I was following this team around doing research for my documentary on Beijing Streetball. I made this to thank them, but my computer died half way through, so I only have the first two games edited.

On a related note, I have about 2 minutes done of my documentary.

the virtual world

colin is snoring in the other room, liwei, my chinese roommate, is in the living room with me practicing kungfu kicks in our living room. it's raining outside. one of those good days: a friday, finished a test, no pressing homework, and the gentle patter of rain has lulled the normally noisy city into rest. all i have to compete with are snores, a tv, and my thoughts.

i'm pretty sure some really author said something like "the blank page taunts me". i think writer's block results from a fear that what will be written will not reflect what is thought. thus the eraser, the white out, and the keyboard. anything we create we also want the ability to destroy, just in case. and the virtual world is the best place for that. things can be easily created. and easily destroyed. but what can't be destroyed are people's memories. and so we get writer's block. professionals whose creations are stretched out for the interpretation of the world. what they are being paid for is keeping their words, and not destroying. they forfeited that right.

ideas and their representations have a fickle relationship. fear of scrutiny and misinterpretation, keep ideas locked. but is the key?

a plan always helps. it provides security and reassurances of logic. we can use our faith in human foresight and rationale to convince ourselves that success is more than likely. but for the planless and whimsical?

a virtual world of amateurs/semi-professionals. vlogs, blogs, and message boards behind the wall of anonymity, or at least with a new name.

my thoughts at the moment are not on china or chinese even though a new semester is right around the corner. rather, they are drifting. i think after i've been in a place for awhile, at a certain point i lose my eye for newness and excitement. everything because part of daily life. seeing babies running around naked on the sidewalk as their mothers sell stolen wares, seeing horse drawn carts parked outside of starbucks selling watermelons, even the fact that there's no drinking age have lost their ability to pique my attention and inspiration. i guess i have a short long-term attention span. not a good diagnosis, but not the worst.

then again, all work and no play? but then again i haven't had school for the past three weeks. all play and no work? but i really don't wanna start working. in fact i want to go in the exact opposite direction as it. but time drags me along in the same direction year after year. is it laziness or fatigue? the two seem indistinguishable in feeling but are all so different in meaning. sometimes i think i misdiagnose my fatigue as laziness and my laziness as fatigue, and thus find my ensuing prescription to be the exact opposite of what i need. put clearly, i sleep when i'm lazy, and work when i'm fatigued.

i can't figure it out. i just wanna take off on a motorcycle.

coffee, tv, and an apartment

well, back in beijing i've moved into the first apartment of my life. put simply, its great. (but of course that's before i've had to do any cleaning and upkeep stuff). my chinese roommate has also moved in, so we're holding it down. i've got my own food in the fridge: orange juice, watermelon, and hot sauce. i got dishes, chopsticks, and a coffee cup. a stove to boil water. a shower. a water heater that i have to turn on when i want to use it b/c if i leave it own i'll blow up or something according to my teacher. got a tv that i don't use but sometimes turn on. there's all kinds of hidden treasures left around the apartment too left behind be the old inhabitants: wireless headphones, some expensive liquor, rice, fans, and a sword.

it's exciting, but once our third roommate moves in it may get a little crowded. i've already told my chinese roommate that his smoking doesn't agree with my medical conditions. mosquitos seem to have made a quick invasion since we moved it. i've been noticing more dead cockroaches next to the cockroach traps. and i realized a little too late that toilet paper was not included amongst the all the treasures i've discovered.

but it's all about waking up, boiling some water for my instant coffee, steaming some frozen buns, sitting down in front of a blank tv, and enjoying. if only they had the boston globe in beijing.

more good ol' xi'an hospitality

it's hard to believe, but chinese hospitality can be painful sometimes; on the mind and the body. today i met up with leyang, my host brother we hosted two years ago. i thought we were just gonna get together for lunch with his cousin, but it turned out to be an all day affair. i used to think my surprise at gatherings such as these (b/c this kind of thing happens a lot) was due to my linguistic insufficiencies, but i'm beginning to realize and expect that getting together in xi'an is always loosely defined. it's probably due to the fact that a good host plans everything out and feeds his/her guests till he bursts. beijing is as much like this, xi'an, however, might be more on the traditional side.

anyway, i went outside to meet leyang and his cousin, but it turned out it was leyang and his mom picking me up in their car to go out to lunch with his cousins famliy and meet up with leyangs dad. anyway i didn't bring any gift or anything cause i thought it was gonna just be us kids so that was kinda of embarassing. and then came the typical guest meal when dealing with upper upper class xi'an-ers. we had every delicacy: beijing duck, pigs feet, pork ribs, fresh fish, etc. there were only 6 of us, but there was enough to feed 25. some dishes went untouched. and they kept ordering. by the end they had order a heaping pile of dumplings. i squeeze one into my mouth and it popped back out before i could chew. really, while the intention is flattering i'm also a little put off by the excess; even americans would call this excess. especially, cause yesterday i was talking to my cabbie and he was telling about how wasteful chinese people were spending thousands of yuan on for a 5-person meal. he described how crooked the whole system was cause it was all these governemnt officials eating eating meals that cost the yearly wage of the poorest chinese. and here i was today the guest of honor at one such meal.

anyway, today took a tool on my body (i.e. stomach) and mind (i.e. i just want to sleep and never speak chinese again).

it was nice seeing leyang. he's grown up a lot. and i'm constantly thankful for his family's hospitality. i really have quite a network going for me here in china. i have two days left in xi'an and then its back to the capital to work, work, work. how long until x-mas again?

back to my original blogging desk

I've noticed an hour doesn't exactly mean what it used to. If I have an hour to wait, it's almost hard to decide what to do with it because it's just not enough time for me. Hours are spent like dollar bills. It used to be anything green and paper was preciously coveted in my pocket. But here I am in China and hours and bills are spent more freely. I don't know what to attribute it to exactly, has my mind acclimated to our constructed version of time to the point where it can only anticipate duration but not feel it?

I don't feel as if I just finished an entire semester at ACC, but my actions tell me differently. I　slept a lot, and still feel like sleeping. Of course that could because I'm getting over a cold, but still, last week was hell, but now I'm sitting in Xi'an, back to the desk where I wrote 50+ blog entries three years ago, back to the same bed I slept in for 3.5 months, and back to a beautiful city that literally feels like home.

It's good to be here, especially after my friends from the summer semester have packed their bags and left for the liberty and straightforwardness of America leaving me here, alone in the oldest civilization that history has preserved, a history of turbulent preservation.

I got here, to Xi'an, and was instantly met by my host mother. I can tell that my Chinese has improved, if not as much as I hoped it might. But being able to understand over 50% of what's going on all the time is a good feeling, but has also, in the past 2 months but especially now, left me embarrassed and frustrated with myself.

I look back the time I spent in Xi'an my senior year of high school and realize that it was definitely a long time ago. The kind of time that not only looks like a long time, but feels like it too. I wrote a lot of things back then that just reveal how ignorant and self-concerned I　was. I abhorred speaking Chinese at points, I hated getting up before dawn to run with my host mother, and I just could not bring myself to do anything but buy cheap dvds and presents for people back home while I was here. it's a really embarrassing part of my study abroad then that i wish i could take back.

some of the things i think i can attribute to simply being young, but others, like my weakness for consumption, I'm beginning to believe is a part of American culture that I was representing. This need to over consume if the opportunity arises, is really repulsive. I'm not sure what it is, but I think it has something to do with a competitive spirit, the feeling that you are winning when you buy shit (and I'm talking about shit, not stuff you need) at a relatively low price.

Who knows, but much of my time in Xi'an in 2005 was reserved for buying, buying, and more buying. That's something I regret.

It's a double-edged sword- realizing that you've change. I think it's a rare occasion that a change is entirely good because you still must negotiate the old with the new. Even if the change is for the better it is disturbing knowing that before you were wrong. I guess the cliche to be learned is that we are never entirely right, don't count on yourself being right in the long run. I'm sure there's a daoist saying that would fit.

But back to the topic of time and money. Perhaps it is change that dictates the true length of time. As we harden into our patterns and regularities, change becomes harder and less frequent, and time folds itself so that the space between feels like seconds while the clock on the wall has passed hours, semesters, and years.

sorry for the bad grammar and spelling etc

days that make hell look not so bad

so it's been awhile since i last spilled some thought onto this digital canvas, so i figured i'd take some time out of my incredibly bad day to reflect and try and convince myself that it really isn't all that bad. but the real reason is i'm just procrastinating since i really don't feel like redoing my entire presentation about beijing's hutong which was conveniently saved in PPT format on my now deceased computer.

that's really the crux of it all. i've been staying up late sneezing and coughing trying to get this amazing presentation off the ground. in fact this is probably the first time in a long time i've truly prepared for a presentation. the ppt had everything from pictures to videos to notes below each slide to help me along the way. today i was gonna go over the presentation and get all the grammar structures firmly grounded in the mushed up brain of mine. i even had a teacher correct all my stuff, and make suggestions. and then my computer wouldn't start. this usually happens; i wasn't worried. then it wouldn't start again, and i started to wheeze. i've been sick for the past three days, did i mention that? then it wouldn't start again. well by the 345th time i gave up believing my computer and i just needed to rest after a couple long nights of work. so i took and nap, my computer took a nap, and i woke up feeling sicker than ever and my computer might as well have taken a shower cause it was useless as ever. so here i am in ACC's luxurious computer room. coughing up hateful words gazing soberly a a computer screen wanting nothing more than to go to bed.

and i haven't started studying for my final yet. this presentation has taken that time. perhaps i'll just sleep it all off and go back to the states.

and here's a picture i took:

Yang Rou Chuan'r

My roommate and I made this video for "China Night". At the time of presentation, we didn't have subtitles but we've added them for the benefit of those unfamiliar with the Chinese tongue. However, it was a very lax subtitling.

day by day

Well the new Harry Potter came out last week, and although the Chinese translation won't be available for a few months, the street vendors are already selling English and Chinese copies of Harry Potter for $4.50

I'm yet to read it, too busy with work. This week I've juggling school and my own streetball documentary project. I discovered a tournament sponsored by adidas at a park very close to my school, and it fits in perfectly with my project. I befriended a team of 17 and 18-year-olds, and everyday after my classes go directly to the park and tape their games and comments. Yesterday, they invited me to go eat out to eat with them. Although, I understand no more than 20% of what they say, (why do young people always choose to use the most informal slang to talk?) it's still exciting that this is working out so perfectly. But I'm tired, and I have a lot to do. Today, I have a bit of a break cause they don't have a game and our only homework is to prepare an oral report for tomorrow. But I also want to begin editing a video of their games to give them as a thank you for adopting this stupid foreigner.

Also, new in my life: I've decided to live off-campus next semester. I'll be living with another ACC student and a Chinese person. Still haven't seen the apartment, so I'm still a little nervous but it'll be fun.

Sorry, nothing of intellectual interest I feel capable of relating.

My second chinese haircut

My first haircut wasn't as bad as i thought. When I look back at pictures of my first ever haircut in the PRC, I realize it was a major improvement from the shoulder length hair i had pre-haircut. In fact, i look at those pictures and wonder why in the world i didn't like the haircut. It might of been the best haircut of my life. It was well-shaped, not annoying, and most importantly i wasn't balding then.

And then came Chinese Haircut 2.0

For some reason I trusted that a $3 haircut in China would be good. I mean the Chinese economy is filled with cheap high quality service. Although their manufacturing is reknowned for its flaws, low-skilled service is always of the highest grade. The cheapest restaurants open the door for you, the bakery birthday cakes are artistic masterpieces which would probably run $100 in the US but cost 20 here, and I have my bed made,trash emptied, and floor swept EVERYDAY. Labor is cheap, job competition is high, low-skill service jobs should be of the highest grade.

Thus I got my second chinese haircut and it's frighteningly bad. So bad that on some high fashion level it might be good. Enough said.


The weekend has arrived. I haven't worked out it quite while. I'm tired. Etc.

Me and my language partner

God bless

first day ballin

I went out today on my own to 东单 where they have some really nice courts. You have to pay to play there, 15 kuai. This is something I didn't really expect in China: There's no such thing as a public court. Unlike the U.S. where a town or city decides to create a court and maintain it, Beijing has nothing of the sort. Everyone either goes to places like 东单 or local colleges and universities which maintain courts of varying quality. This is a little bit surprising to me because one would expect a socialist country to provide more public sites of recreation, yet it is the U.S. that is doing so.

There's two things I think are interesting from this.

1) Beijing and China are still in the midst of economic development. While the American economy has already has the luxury of excessive profit. (Not that this profit is equally distributed.)

2) Beijing does provide things that U.S. doesn't. For example, I was walking around the other night and saw a giant ballroom dance class taking place on the sidewalk. From what I could tell it was totally free. There was one teacher telling people what to do on a loud speaker while the music played. I assume it was a public event. Which indicates that perhaps China and the U.S. are emphasizing different forms of physical recreation. What is interesting is what these forms of recreation reinforce, how do their "embodied pedagogies" differ? Basketball vs. instructed ballroom dancing. I'll leave you to speculate.

(Who decides these things?)

看菜吃饭， 量体裁衣 - kan4 cai4 chi1 fan4, liang2 ti3 cai2 yi1 - fit the appetite to the dishes, and fit the cloth to the figure

I now believe in magic

I now believe in magic. Today has been a day of hardship, ups, downs, and some more downs, but I'm now up at 1130 pm and excited to be on my own for the weekend.

We had our midterms today which consisted of a written 2.5 test and two oral reports, one in front of our class and one in front of two scrutinizing teachers. And most of the kids here have gone on a trip to either Datong or Luoyang with ACC but I chose to stay here in Beijing to start my documentary project and really just to get some time to chill. I hate traveling with a bunch of people, having a tight schedule, and walking around Buddhist temples. One, two temples and you've seen 'em all. But to the magic...

I experienced two cases of undeniable magic today. If the first bores you skip to the second.

First off, I lost my wallet. In magic terms it literally disappeared. I know i had it last night, I never left the dorm, and today after the midterm it was -poof!- gone. I've searched everywhere-nothing. I don't really have any idea how I could've lost it, and I don't think it was stolen because this building is pretty secure, thus- magic. And I'm also left without credit card, bank card, gym card, my 100 yuan cell phone card, and probably a lot of other stuff. I'm surprisingly unconcerned about it. I have enough money in the safe in my room to last three or four weeks, and it's one less thing to hold when I go out. I sucks I don't have a bank card, but now I have to really be a traveler and ration my lifestyle. (Don't worry mom, I know you're the only one who reads this blog, I am currently hyperbolizing, I have enough money.)

Second case of magic, I was just down in ACC's recently opened computer lab (which is much nicer than I thought it'd be) trying to print out a sign to inform the other residents that I have lost my wallet and if they happen to see it floating around they should pick it up. But the printer was jammed so I fiddled with it, gave it a couple whacks, and all of a sudden it started printing... a lot of pages. And my jaw dropped as I looked at the first page: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". In my hands were the first few chapters of the most anticipated book on the planet. I was one of a few to lay my eyes on it. It was as if the wizards and witches were contacting me. I half expected an invitation to Hogwarts to come flying out of the machine.

Of course, I really would of believed this was magic if I hadn't read earlier that the seventh Harry Potter book had been leaked on the internet, but still the fact that it just popped out like that was pretty cool. Somebody else must have tried to print it but the printer was broken. So now I have maybe the first fourth of the book sitting on my bed. I'm not sure what to do with it. It's really cool that I have a chance to read it when most of the world still drools in anticipation, but it kinda ruins the experience, no? I mean it's not the same as cracking open a fresh hardcover. But is there really such a experience in China anyway? I probably won't read it. No time.

Lets hope a little more magic brings my wallet back.


金屋藏娇 - jin1 wu1 cang2 jiao1 - all that glitters is not gold

how many people does your bike seat?

tea time

there are times in life when you step back from the situation you're in and see it as if it were a week, a month, a year, or a decade ago. it is in such a moment that i found myself sitting among 7-8 early-thirties women in a hotel room that had been converted into a makeshift classroom pouring tea. as i sat listening to the teacher discuss the characteristics of pu'er tea, i realized how weird it was that i was sitting here. not china, but here.

it started the first week of classes. ACC has about 30 teachers for 3rd year students. thus, everyday during our 1-on-1 class with a teacher we have a new teacher to work with. my first day i was with zhu laoshi. probably the nicest, most gentle, and attractive teacher at ACC. i was lucky to have her as my first 1-1 teacher. i was nervous and perspirating. she offered me a kleenex to wipe off my sweat and told me to "forget the word, nervous". the class was good. later that day there was a reception for the students and teachers to get to know each other. i saw zhu laoshi there, and we began to talk along with my roommate. she kept telling my roommate how good of a student i was and how i had a knack for correcting my own mistakes. honestly, i've never had a teacher be as enthusiastic yet gentle. she must be related to mother nature.

i blushed my way through the conversation, and eventually got to some good old talk. i told her how i always drank coffee in the states, but now that i was in china and coffee (good coffee) is quite expensive by chinese standards, i was gonna do as the romans do, and drink tea. i used the word "pin" tea (something i learned in my pomona chinese class) instead of using the word "he" (drink) tea. i explained i wanted to understand good "pin cha" which rather than "drink tea" translates better to "taste tea." much how wine connissuers "taste wine."

thus, about a week later, zhu laoshi approached me with various ideas about tea. (honestly, the teachers here really do go above and beyond, they work outside of class and really take what we say to heart). she gave me a sheet of paper with a number on it and explained that it was a class on tea. of course, i just wanted to drink tea like i drink coffee: heat, drink, chill. but out of respect for all her efforts (she had already contacted the place, let them know that a foreigner might call, and even got them to give me the first class for free) i told her i'd call.

after calling, i managed to write down the address after a long discussion about exactly which characters she meant. this is always a problem if on the phone b/c there about 100 characters for one sound. and because my vocab isn't very extensive it's kind of hard to explain which ones. anyway, i got it all settled: saturday, 130-330.


today, i woke up to a phone call from the my tea teacher ensuring i would be coming. i yawned, and asked who it was about five times, and hung up. i saw it as a good experience. practice chinese. learn something about the ancient tradition of tea. and learn a cool talent. i got to the address provided, and had no idea where i was. in front of me was a hotel that was under renovation. i called again to make sure i was in the right place, and was told to go up to the 6th floor.

so i hesistantly entered the hotel, whose interior looked much better than the exterior. on the 6th floor i walked around the hotel hallway until i found the room. inside, the room had been converted into a semi-classroom with a table. on the table was a pile of various hard-packed tea. and around the table were a bunch of chinese women staring at me as i walked in 10 minutes late. and i joined the circle.

the class was interesting but not something i was looking for. i was surprised at how much i understood, but i also realized i was out of place. it was as if i had joined a sewing circle or something. a 20-year-old male just stood out, no matter what. it didn't help that i was a foreigner. but they were all nice, and i learned the art of pouring green tea although i can't remember it now. i chatted it up with the woman next to me who worked in LA for a year with China Press, and she explained how i could get tickets for the olympics next year. i gave her my email, if she had any job openings. the teacher was really nice and spoke extremely clearly. i'm not sure if it was because i was there or if she always like that. and she really didn't mind that i said i wasn't coming back.

but in the midst of this sewing circle of two mothers of under-1-year-olds and others in their early thirties, i suddenly saw where i was for what it was. i was talking with a generation that i don't usually interact with and never really have before. they were the generation between my parents and me, they rarely cross paths with me. when i was high school they had graduated from college. when i was in college they were starting their first real job or traveling the world. i had no reason to talk to them. but here i was talking to women in that generation wondering why exactly they were here and why exactly i was here. were they housewives of rich chinese business men with nothing better to do on a saturday than go to a snobby tea tasting class or simply interested or were they learning a skill important to their lives. i was there to explore, to push myself. it was that i was specifically in china that mattered. any place that you're in you can find a environment of familiar comfort. here, it is my dorm, my room. but the knowledge that i am in china forces me to challenge myself. there is an expectation that i must experience the new, that i shouldn't be comfortable all the time, that this is a period of challenge. and thus i seek out new situations.

back home i could easily seek out a new situation to challenge myself, to help me learn, to grow. i could volunteer at a nursing home, walk around a new neighborhood, or just talk to the guy next to me on the subway. but that's home. there's no pressure to push myself. but china, reminds me that i need to explore. the dorm is nice, the colleges area is very modern. but there is so much more. the fun is in the exploration not the comfort.

so as i sat, with my these career-budding mothers sipping tea and pondering what in the world i was doing. needless to say, immediately after the class i ran to starbucks for a cup of coffee.


搔首踟蹰- to scratch one's head in great perplexity

more on names

we have to use all chinese all the time here. no exceptions. (besides talking to our beloved ones in the states) but aside from that, there are no exceptions. at least once a week we get a reminder in our mailbox restating why exactly ACC is the program that it is and that when we choose to go to ACC we knew what we were getting into. yesterday we received a letter from two anonymous students who had transgressed their english vows and they reiterated the party lines and encouraged us to continue upholding our part despite their transgressions. ;-)

it's intense to say the least. some words are permittable if the situation is dire enough: "youtube" (facebook is now 脸书), "USB port", "Morgan Stanley 公司," my friend back home named "Alice".

beyond these deaf-eared transgressions, it's all chinese. including our names. this present a bit of a problem for many of us. unlike the liberal arts education of my past, we don't play icebreaker name games at the beginning of each class, in fact our classes change every week. what is more, chinese names are much harder to remember than "Tim" or even "Anastasia". I know maybe 8 people's names (the easy ones plus my roommate's) The rest we've taken to using more mneumonic-friendly nomenclature. the guy down the hall from paris is called "french person" (法国人), my roomate's orginal name was too hard for him to remember how to write so after considering naming himself 1,2,3 (一二三) he changed it to "kelin" which about equals "colin". my name always causes problematics because it really has nothing to do with my english name like most people's, thus i've been renamed "Wang" (王) or "Mr. Wang" (王先生).

it's the little things that make this an experience i suppose.



useful phrase for Americans in china talking about politics, or anything really:
自己打自己的脸 - one hits one's own face - i.e. hypocritical

名字

what's in a name?

王勤辉
David Wang
DWang
Dizzy D
老外 “lao wai"- a somewhat derogatory for a foreigner.

today i learned about my name. it's odd how some things that seem so simple are usually the ones that you have never really looked at. people says they know thing "like the back of their hand." but do i really know what the back of my hand looks like?

and maybe it's just me. for some, it's all bull. why analyze your name? it's part of life and they understand how their name should work and how does work. it's natural. but, unfortunately, i'm not one of those people. it amazes me when today, i was told by the chinese college friend that ACC provides for us if we so desire, that my name (勤辉 qinhui) sounds chinese, but it's the kind of name kids laugh at now. it means "hardworking and successful." imagine sitting in class in high school and the teacher calling out a name like that. that kid's got a lot of pressure coming both in the form of expectations and contempt from the less brilliantly named kids. chinese names are different in that they have an immediate meaning. for example, "david" carries with it certain connotations, Jewish being the most prominent, but how many people know what it means from looking at the letters. (It means "beloved" by the way.) but the characters that make up chinese name have an obvious use and meaning in the current language. naming in chinese take a lot more creativity than english, if you want a good name.

my language partner described how nobody wants to share a name with anyone (out of the billion people here). she doesn't want to copy a celebrity's name. she wants to give here a unique name. her name was so unique that one of the characters wasn't in the normal computer dictionary.

anyway, my name isn't as cool as i thought it was. when i tell chinese people my name and they look at me and ask me why i have a chinese name, is their surprise filled with humor and shock? aiya, funny how the meanings my chinese name contains makes me proud but only because it was in a language i didn't understand that seemed exotic and special. but i'm still proud of it. i've always thought about naming my kids something new and unusual. not "glory" or "hardworking" but something cool and with meaning.

but the next name is filled with uncertainty: 老外 "lao wai." (foreigner but also historically used to describe barbarian invaders). my roommate and i played basketball with a bunch of chinese outside for a couple hours. our team one pretty much every game, and we developed a decent audience. but they kept laughing and saying "lao wai.... 什么的什么的" but i couldn't understand. it's tough not knowing the labels given to you.

on one hand it distances you from the labels and gives you a chance to realize that the meaning of a name is hollow. david, qinhui, laowai, each one is different, but i'm still me. playing basketball, i knew they were talking about me and laughing but i couldn't understand what, and so i didn't care. i wish it all of life could be like that. you hear your name but just don't care, just don't understand that it means any thing more than indication of a certain person.

Bei Hai Park

Rainy Homework

虎头蛇尾

first weeks done. i'm exhausted. today we had a test on the past weeks material which was equal to four weeks of regular chinese. i got a 95. that's the other thing the teachers here are REALLY good about. they return everything you turn in the same day. i'll hand in my homework at 8 in the morning and find it waiting at my door by 3 pm.

anyhow, i entered the week feeling strong. like a tiger. and i'm leaving feeling weak. like a snake. thus the chinese saying 虎头蛇尾 (tiger head, snake tail). i realized i haven't really spoken any english for since last saturday and i keep catching myself trying to speak chinglish or attempting to speak in chinese with english grammar and being frustrated because it just doesn't work.

so after the 2 hour test today they immediately shepherded us into our weekly culture activity: going to another college and chatting with chinese student. honestly, it would've tight, but after a test nobody wants to be forced to do anything. all i wanted to do was sleep. the girl i talked to was nice though. although she spoke really fast.

now i'm finally off. i can't believe i used to go to high school five days a week from 8-2! this is a lot like high school in the amount of free time we have. always something new. i think we're meeting with our "host" families either today or tomorrow too.

nectar must be wrung out.

that being said...

the teachers here are also extremely talented. honestly, i've never had so many good teachers. maybe it is because there is such a large talent pool here or maybe because china has a more standardized school of education which has led to a more efficient way of teaching effective teaching methods, or maybe it's just that ACC is really amazing at hiring and supporting teachers. who knows. but all the teachers are extremely friendly, they all had our names memorized with pictures we sent earlier so that they greeted me with a familiar sounding "nihao wang qinhui!" and they seem to genuinely want and pursue activities with us OUTSIDE the classroom. it's still early, but they seem very interested in us, and us learning chinese. no matter where we are or what we are talking about outside of class they'll stop you and tell you to repeat it until its perfected before the conversation can move on, and yet they still maintain there interest in the conversation (which the intensity usually has greatly dipped due to the corrections). it's amazing.

plus the number of teachers is something amazing. something like 39 teachers for 59 students! and all the teachers already know my name!

of course the more pessimistic view of all this is that the american dollar goes much farther than it does in the US.

ACC 的教书办法

过了两天的课以后我发现这个这个经历会一定会很辛苦。 我们每天有四节课。 上课一天前我们得做作业，看好我们的新科文，和记得60到100汉字！ 我上大办课的时候有一个听写的考试然后复习语法。 下个课就是小半课。 这门课只有四个学生！ 这门课让我非常紧张因为老师很快地问我们语法的例子。 然后我上对话课和单班课。 这两门课是我最喜欢的。 我们跟一个老师用那天的语法和生子聊天儿。 这四门课真让我累。 下午呢？ 吃午饭以后我就在开始预习我下篇课文。 我觉得我会每天12电才睡觉！除了上课以外我们还得支持我们的语言誓约。 我的脑子月来粤风狂！

But I can write in english. so at least i have one outlet. right now, my body screams for a germanic language or even a romance one. at times i find myself about to let a french word fly even though it's been over two years since i last spoke. (a french accent doesn't count as french, for those of you who have heard me speak french in the last two years). I think this first week will be the hardest on my mind and body... hopefully. I have to get rid of systems i've used since i was young and replace them with entirely different structures, and it seems to take a while for the electric currents in my brain to carve out new paths on which to flow. i just hope i don't start speaking english in my sleep and pollute chinese atmosphere and undermine the sanctity of the language pledge.

Furthermore, the teaching style here is 厉害 (intense). Unlike the liberal arts method of my past, this style forces the student to be engaged. My whole life it's always been the students choice whether he speaks or doesn't speak even in language classes. For me it was more like I had a right not speak rather to speak. Here, the mind can not meander in any kind of whimsical (albeit interesting) pondering. Rather, it must be constantly must follow the teacher's train of thought, i.e. the lesson. For example, whenever (and I mean whenever) the teacher says something new like a grammar structure, an example, or vocab we, the students must all repeat exactly what she said in unison, and she scours the four-person class for mistakes to point out to everyone. Sometimes we are even expected to know exactly what the teacher is going to say and say it along with her with only a single nod for a signal. This could be anything from a word to an entire sentence from the the text we read for that days class. Needless to say, this is something I've never experience before and the classroom habits I've developed in the United States are not exactly complementary nor even adaptable to this environment. Some might call it laziness, but nevertheless it has got me through of my American schooling successfully. So it's frustrating when I find myself entertaining a cool thought in class and I get called on to answer a question or give an example with only ONE correct answer. But I think there's a lot to be gained from this: discipline, concentration, and even a different kind of social skill that is somewhat close to acting. We shall see.