研究生院

"Sometimes decades pass and nothing happens; and then sometimes weeks pass and decades happen."

-Lenin

I'm in love with adventure.  I've spent most of my life chasing recklessly after it, and it's led me all over the world.  In the last nine months; however, adventure been conspicuously absent from my life and I'm almost grateful.  Since I got back to the States my days have become somewhat monotonous and for the most part I've been glad for the respite.  Adventure itself is a wonderful thing, but it can be synonymous with turmoil.  It's good to have a rest from the whirlwind that the last two years have been.

I'm still enjoying my job more than I imagined I would, but in the last few weeks I've felt the familiar stir of restlessness reawakening.  I need to have a goal, a purpose, something to bend my life towards.  So, I have started taking steps towards getting myself in grad school in the next few years.  I signed up for the GRE this week, and am researching schools and programs related to English.  While on OU's website trying to learn about their Master's program, I clicked on the link to Frequently Asked Questions.  Check out the answer.

Here is my blog post for the asking

Americans are good at being everybody's friend.  They want to talk to you, even if you're a complete stranger. From the waitress bringing their steak, to the cashier at the grocery store, they will always ask, "How are you?"  I love this about Americans.  We want to be friendly to everyone we meet.  What I never realized before I left, was that it often only goes ¼ inch deep.  I can talk to a stranger for 10 minutes about the movie that came out last week or the crazy weather we've been having, but I'd better not start to tell them about about the year I've had.  The look on their face turns to fear if they think they'll have to emotionally invest.  Keep it casual folks!

I just came from a place where you don't smile at people you don't know.  You don't stand politely back and let them go ahead of you--you shove them out of the way and jam your elbows into ribs in an effort to give yourself the 30 second advantage.  The difference is, when you break past those barriers and get to know someone, you go straight to the heart.  Once someone becomes your friend, they are there for life--whether you like it or not.  It is not a casual thing.  Soon they're coming over uninvited, eating your food, asking you all kinds of personal questions you never wanted to answer, and borrowing your things.  They are no longer your friends, they are your family and it's forever.  I love the deepness, and the closeness those relationships contain despite the lack of personal space or privacy.

It came as a shock to me that the American way seems so foreign.  I grew up in this land.  I should know how it works.  Yet I was annoyed and surprised as people asked, "How are you?" as they walked past without pausing to hear the answer.  I am used to my friends coming over without calling, when I'm in the middle of eating dinner, plopping down on my couch, and not leaving. They spend 6 hours finding out how I am, instead of 3 seconds.  They know all my quirks, from my habit of using hyperbole in every sentence to my crazy need to be better than everyone else at speaking Chinese.  They know that "How are you?" can't be answered simply.   It can't be boiled down to 2 words.

Great relationships take time to build.  So though I reminisce about the deep friendships I left behind, I need to keep in mind the fact that it was almost a full year before those friendships were born.  But like Tom Petty said, "The waiting is the hardest part."

"How poor are they that have not patience!

What wound did ever heal but by degrees?"

William Shakespeare

我讨厌这个问题

Everyone asks The Question, but in an expectant way.  Like they know what your answer is going to be before you give it.

They don't really know.

It's finding yourself in the middle of the grocery store staring at 1400 different kinds of Earl Grey tea feeling like you've just won the lottery and then somebody called you to tell you that your great uncle's wife also left you a fortune.  All you can think about is the irony of wanting just one tiny thing for so long and suddenly having more than you could ever need.

It's being captured by the kind of sunset that makes you pull over to the side of the road, roll your window down, and gape.  You decide to quit your job and paint so you'll never again forget that the sky can have color.

It's pushing a button to clean your dishes instead of bending over the abnormally short sink for what seemed like half your day.

It's feeling like you're on the outside of an inside joke.  Everyone gets it but you.

It's the sheer bliss of eating Mexican food whenever you want.

It's talking to somebody you've known your entire life and realizing they don't really know you at all.

It's feeling like a stranger when you are surrounded by old friends.  You aren't sure if you're one of them or an alien.

It's knowing that the people you love still love you no matter how much you've changed.

It's a Friday night in a coffee shop, that doesn't feel complete without people around you speaking Chinese.

It's a jumble of feelings fighting for priority inside you, and not knowing which one is real.

It's cursing every time you have to fill up your gas tank, because you no longer have the option of putting a coin in a slot and taking the bus downtown.

It's the welcome truth that people are people no matter where you go.  Some are sweet, some are annoying.  Some smell bad and some always know how to make you smile.  That doesn't change when you leave the hemisphere you grew up in.

No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.
-Lin Yutang

假的眼睛

I opened my eyes to a pink dawn today.  Yesterday it was a blinding yellow.  Each time morning comes it looks a little bit different.  I was throwing away my old contact lenses today, and replacing them with new when I thought about all that these lenses have seen.  It hasn't been a remarkable length of time since I first bonded with this particular pair of synthetic eyes but they've experienced so much.  I probably remember less than 10% of the wonders they captured and funneled into the sensors inside my head—then I threw them away.

These contacts were the first object to receive the light rays when I saw my sister for the first time in a year.  They flooded with tears when we summited Mount Antero together, as we thought about the day, 3 years earlier, when we'd stood on top with our brother.  They watched as clouds hovered, and gathered, and threatened to wipe us off the earth with their fury.  They wondered at the rainbow that completely encircled the sun like a halo.  They were still and silent as a herd of 23 mountain goats passed in front of them on the wisp of a trail overlooking our camp.

The most remarkable change in my eyesight comes--not from a new pair of contacts, but from the paradigm shift from behind.  These contacts didn't aid directly in that change, but they were witness to the constantly evolving that takes place in determining my perspective.  Every day I discover that something that I thought was black or white is actually grey.  I learn that from someone else's point of view, my way looks terribly wrong.  I learn that my eyes can make mistakes, and that things aren't always as clear as they seem.

Soon my contacts will be in a landfill somewhere, no longer enabling me to see.  But the changes that have taken place while they were with me will remain, and I'll remember what I learned with their help.  I can close my eyes and recall the exact color of terror the sky turned as the wind whipped a storm out of nothing high in Colorado.  I'll remember the sunlight on the note we left for Clifford as I folded it and put it in the register on top of 14,269 feet of rock and dirt.  I'll know that there is beauty on this earth and it's there for a reason.

Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

-Bob Dylan

新的工作！

I was thinking today, about what my life would be like if money actually grew on trees.  To begin with I'd buy a lot of those seeds and save them up in case there was a famine and all the money trees died.  Then everybody would come to me to rescue them and I'd be the money-tree-seed empress.  Of course I'd sell them at an inflated—but not outrageous price and everybody would thank me for being so generous and I'd be known all over as a philanthropist.

I would also live in a different country every year and not have to wish that my student loans would pay themselves while I was away.  I'd learn the language of the country I was in and then promptly forget it the next time I moved and start on a new one.  I would try a new career with each new country until I found one that I loved with all my heart because I wouldn't have to worry about being able to eat while I figure out what I really want to do with my life.  I wouldn't feel any of the pressure that comes with finding a career because if I got tired of my work I could just quit.  The relief from the burden of commitment would make me feel so immensely free that I'd probably hug everyone I met just for the joy of life.

I would never feel the fear that comes with not knowing where your next meal is going to come from.  I would read every book I could possibly think of and some others besides, because I wouldn't have to fill my free time with earning a living.

I would also never discover that I actually love a job I thought I was going to hate, because I wouldn't have been forced to take it to make ends meet.  I would miss out on the fun of creating culinary wonders from leftovers in the fridge.  I would never have felt the excitement I get when I find clothes at Goodwill for $2.  Being able to read whenever I wanted might rob me of the satisfaction of a stolen hour alone with a book.  It would cease to be a rare treasure and become the norm.

While I can't say that I actually am glad money doesn't grow on trees, I have to admit I'm finding out that the things in life that seem like curses are not always.  I started a new job two weeks ago, and at first I was revolted by the thought of doing the same thing every day, and no longer having my summers free, and all the shackles that come along with adult life; but after two weeks on the job I've found that I love it.  I'm a legal assistant at a law firm downtown and it doesn't seem so terrible to go to work at the same time every day and see the same people.

I promised to update my blog readers when I landed a job but I got distracted by climbing mountains with my sister during my last two weeks of freedom.  They were as glorious as two weeks could possibly be, but life in the low country is plucking along dandily too.  That doesn't mean that I won't keep my eyes out for the faces of dead Presidents on the trees I pass as I drive to work…

 

"So you think that money is the root of all evil. Have you ever asked, what is the root of all money?"
-Ayn Rand

Things I Miss About China

Okay let's be real...I've only been gone for a week, I don't actually miss China yet.  But eventually I will and here are some of the reasons:

 

Spending 5 hours getting my hair done.

 

 

七月七号 直到永远

July 7th was 37 hours long.  When it began I was in Yichang, China.  I was lying on the grass of the football field at Three Gorges University, trying to comprehend how two years was already over.  My two best friends were beside me, listening to Chinese pop music and making up a love story about the lonely star in the sky.

 

6 hours later I was frantically shoving my belongings into an over-burdened suitcase and holding back tears as my friends silently watched.  Together we greeted the dawn on my last morning in China.  With 45 minutes of sleep to strengthen me through the next 47 hours of travel I was feeling far from prepared.  We loaded into the car and I watched my home slip behind me through the rearview mirror.

 

Each hour imbedded itself in my memory with agonizing slowness.  Some were spent relishing the somewhat Western food in 广州's airport.  Some were spent praying for mercy from the airlines when they weighed my bags, and for strength to leave.  Others were spent in that place that's not sleep but not awareness, where we aren't sure what's real.  I spent a few of them flipping through the three channels on the TV provided by China Southern Airlines, trying to decide if I wanted to watch The Blind Side for the 4th time or the Chinese war movie I'd switched to after hour 7 on that flight.

 

When I landed in America it was 6:50pm on July 7th though more than 31 hours had passed since the day began.  I stumbled off the plane unable to comprehend I was finally in the land of internet freedom and horizontally challenged people.  An immigrations officer gruffly questioned me about the contents of my suitcase and I couldn't remember which language to answer him in.  After trying a sentence in Chinese I realized why he was looking at me like I'd lost my mind.  The next sentence seemed to pacify some of his inner anger and he waved me though the line.

 

I found a book store and subsequently remembered one more reason to be grateful for this transition.  July 7th mecifully ended with a chicken ceasar salad and Three Cups of Tea to comfort me.  I had 30 minutes before my flight to Houston and I was determined to enjoy every bite of food that didn't taste Chinese.

 

Descending from the plane in Houston at 5:40am, I envisioned meeting my parents at the airport in Oklahoma City.  I could picture their smiles and hugs and I felt like one more minute was too long to wait.  I approached the Continental Airlines desk hoping I could sweet talk my way onto an earlier flight.  What I heard seemed to come from far away.  "I'm sorry ma'am, your flight has been canceled due to the weather.  We've got you scheduled for a flight at 9 tonight."  Tears sprung unbidden to my eyes yet again and I angrily shook them away.  I implored the man to try something else.  He found a flight to Dallas/Fort Worth and told me I could try to get on standby for a flight from there to OKC.  I called my parents and they decided they'd rather drive the 3 hours to Dallas than wait for me to fly in late at night.  Thus began my transition back to American life.

 

 

"The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on on's own country as a foreign land."

-G.K. Chesterton