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.