Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Monday, May 17, 2010
Half and Half
Have you ever considered that there is no point to life. You live. You die. Somewhere along the way you find either happiness, pain or both. There are two options either you are the person who believes in a glass half full kind of life or you are the other kind who wants to know why the hell someone drank half their milk.
I believe that against the rule I live in the middle. I acknowledge that someone is drinking my milk and yet I keep filling up the glass. There are certain things in my life that I am too scared to do, and to most people that may seem strange especially if they knew what they were. Others would view them with caution and think me wise. I however am terrified of taking the first steps in, well anything. I have spent the past year learning about myself and I have discovered that I need someone else so I can do something. I can plan and project, heck I can even take on the action and build. But I am almost never the person who makes/takes the first step in significant thing. Why you may ask well in truth I really don't know perhaps it’s easier to hide and blame someone else for all my short comings but to the best of my knowledge I just have insurmountable fear of the, or should I say almost all, repercussions. Being the person I want to be and the person I know I should be unlike me demeanor is not half full or even half empty it’s more like a one way street with doors that will open if only I had the courage to try. Which I don't, that is the way its always been. I need at least one person telling me what to do, giving me a firm kick in the ass or a dominate hand helping me along the way. Now that I am leaving I wonder if I will be able to break this pattern before the final test. The countdown has started will I be able to do it, or will I fall miserable short and stay in the same pattern. Do I really have control over anything I do or does my fear of repercussions and rejection.
I believe that against the rule I live in the middle. I acknowledge that someone is drinking my milk and yet I keep filling up the glass. There are certain things in my life that I am too scared to do, and to most people that may seem strange especially if they knew what they were. Others would view them with caution and think me wise. I however am terrified of taking the first steps in, well anything. I have spent the past year learning about myself and I have discovered that I need someone else so I can do something. I can plan and project, heck I can even take on the action and build. But I am almost never the person who makes/takes the first step in significant thing. Why you may ask well in truth I really don't know perhaps it’s easier to hide and blame someone else for all my short comings but to the best of my knowledge I just have insurmountable fear of the, or should I say almost all, repercussions. Being the person I want to be and the person I know I should be unlike me demeanor is not half full or even half empty it’s more like a one way street with doors that will open if only I had the courage to try. Which I don't, that is the way its always been. I need at least one person telling me what to do, giving me a firm kick in the ass or a dominate hand helping me along the way. Now that I am leaving I wonder if I will be able to break this pattern before the final test. The countdown has started will I be able to do it, or will I fall miserable short and stay in the same pattern. Do I really have control over anything I do or does my fear of repercussions and rejection.
Monday, January 18, 2010
The American Factor
It’s strange to sit here writing this; paperwork has never been my thing! My pen, a stolen object from my neighbor Tina, though she is used to it now as I do it every week. My breakfast is two pieces of outrageously expensive bread, especially for their exceedingly crappy quality. Right now I feel like I should be converting into completely Taiwanese mind set and declaring my patriotism for Taiwan, like my Brazilian and German counterparts. Though strangely enough this experience has only served to reinforce and solidify in my mind the fact that I am “America” and extremely proud to be one; “American” this odious word that when myself and others use we get jumped on. The Mexicans and the South Americans find it offensive that the citizens of the United States of America call ourselves “Americans” when we all live on the continents of the “Americas.” The two lead Mexicans find it displeasing when we try to placate them and say we are from the U.S. because in fact Mexico is actually the “United Mexican States ” so that is not allowed in their eyes either. Over all they would prefer that when we are asked where we are from or what nationality we are to keep our mouths shut or say that we are from the “United States of America.” I have no problem saying that I am from the “United States of America” however it is a bit of a mouthful. Though I do have a problem when someone asks “are you America?” they become angry because according to them it is “offensive to their national identity.”However what else are we supposed to say when asked “are you American?” should we say “no”? No we can’t do that for the same reasons they find it offensive when we call ourselves “Americans,” because by their logic we are all “Americans” so they should not be offended because we also live on the continent of “America”. When Taiwanese or Chinese people ask are you “美國人” they take no offense when we reply “yes.” In fact “美國” directly translates in to “America” in most dictionaries not the “United States of America” but “America.” It’s not that “Americans” find themselves better than South Americans and Mexicans it’s just that Americans it’s a natural way to identify ourselves. To me personally it would sound extremely weird to call myself a “United States of American” its shorter to simply use the last word and call myself an “American” and to me personally it just sounds better. Just like it would be strange for a Mexican to call themselves a “United States of Mexican.” I understand that most of the people who have a problem with “Americans” calling themselves “Americans” got the short end of the stick but when you don’t give us any better alternatives what else do you expect us to do. After all you can only lead the cow to water! Personally I hoped that buy being around us, they would lose this prejudice and realize that we do not call ourselves “Americans” to hurt them but because that is our national identity. We as a people have been call ourselves Americans since our nations beginning, it seems that only in recent years others have developed a feeling of injustice against “Americans” calling themselves “Americans” before the last eighty or so years no one cared what “Americans” called themselves. At least they didn’t openly jump on people who called themselves “Americans” or to people who referred to Citizens of the United States of America as “Americans,” my question is what has changed in the past 80 years to make more South Americans and Mexicans prejudice against “Americans.” On a closing note let me point out that not all South Americans and Mexicans feel this way, I have not had enough experience with a larger populous of South Americans and Mexico, Mexicans to over all judge their whole populous; please do not feel that I am generalizing. I just refer to the people I am on exchange with and this article does not apply to all of them, just the majority.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Thanks for the Snausage!
Getting in the car the feeling of exhaustion swept over me. Closing my eyes I tried to fall asleep on the drive to “Love Wharf, only to have a photo copied book thrust into my hands. William started to read, while I corrected and helped him. By the end of the 7th or 8th page of the book I was about to pass out, then my host aunt told her children to change places so I could help the daughter. Eight pages with three sentences a page never seemed so long. Once she was done I closed my eyes leaned against the window and fell into a light doze only to be woken when we pulled into the parking lot of “ Love Wharf.” Getting out of the car we had to avoid numerous piles of dog poop, left by stray dogs. Kids on rented mini bikes flew down the old broken road. Sculpted buildings that would have looked more at home in Coney Island, rather than the edge of a Taiwanese wharf dotted the landscape. Dogs ran in all directions my aunt said the equivalent to “watch out and avoid” in Chinese; Looking down at what we were supposed to avoid I saw a small shivering puppy cowering against the cold cement trying to block the cutting wind and warm itself. Like most of the dogs at “Love Wharf” mange had eaten away its hair so pieces of its small naked body were exposed to the biting air. At that point in time, I truly wished I was at home in the U.S.A.. There would be no question in anyone’s mind what to do. We would have wrapped it up and taken it to the vet; Here they just stepped over it and left the puppy to fend for itself.
While we explored and played the puppy was in the back of my mind, my longing for my parents grew and became extremely fierce due to the fact that I always know what is right when I am with them. At the very end of our walk around, we watched people in Go-Karts race around a small track. There was a small food stand nearby, so I walked over bought a sausage, bit it into small pieces, and let it cool in the bag. While William and his sister went with their father on a small train ride I told the aunt that I wanted to find the little dog and give it the food. Walking back to where we had first seen the pup I looked around. Hearing my name called I turned around to see the kids waving madly. Turning back I finally spotted the small dog now curled up in a ball on top of a tarp. Walking over to the dog I emptied the bag in front of it. Looking at me, it slowly rose up from its ball and began happily putting down the sausage I had just given it, while I stood guard stopping another dog from jumping in. After that I felt bad because the other dog looked hungry as well. I contemplated going back to buy another sausage. Then the aunt yelled that it was time to go home, moving away I looked back to see the small dog one last time. An image of that small pup and the skinny black dog has stayed in my head like an imprint reminding me that I am not in Arkansas anymore. Every time I think of those dogs an image of my parents pops in my head, and I am left with a feeling of longing and nostalgia for the people who are truly good and care to a fault. My father, who everyone fears and respects simply because of his nature; the funny thing is when he holds or looks at a cute cuddly bundle, he turns into a softie. My mother, the harder of my parents, is angered by injustice and in compassion and would give the shirt off her back to a person in need; I have see her do it time and time again. I have seen both my parents do things to help others and make their lives easier without a thought to themselves. I guess what made me particularly receptive to these emotions was that Sunday we were celebrating Thanksgiving and it reminded me of all the Thanksgiving and Christmas’s that my parents and I spent at church making food, and helping people. This year even though I will not be their, my parents as usual will be at church helping to make Thanksgiving dinner, showing the world, and community exactly why I love and admire them.
While we explored and played the puppy was in the back of my mind, my longing for my parents grew and became extremely fierce due to the fact that I always know what is right when I am with them. At the very end of our walk around, we watched people in Go-Karts race around a small track. There was a small food stand nearby, so I walked over bought a sausage, bit it into small pieces, and let it cool in the bag. While William and his sister went with their father on a small train ride I told the aunt that I wanted to find the little dog and give it the food. Walking back to where we had first seen the pup I looked around. Hearing my name called I turned around to see the kids waving madly. Turning back I finally spotted the small dog now curled up in a ball on top of a tarp. Walking over to the dog I emptied the bag in front of it. Looking at me, it slowly rose up from its ball and began happily putting down the sausage I had just given it, while I stood guard stopping another dog from jumping in. After that I felt bad because the other dog looked hungry as well. I contemplated going back to buy another sausage. Then the aunt yelled that it was time to go home, moving away I looked back to see the small dog one last time. An image of that small pup and the skinny black dog has stayed in my head like an imprint reminding me that I am not in Arkansas anymore. Every time I think of those dogs an image of my parents pops in my head, and I am left with a feeling of longing and nostalgia for the people who are truly good and care to a fault. My father, who everyone fears and respects simply because of his nature; the funny thing is when he holds or looks at a cute cuddly bundle, he turns into a softie. My mother, the harder of my parents, is angered by injustice and in compassion and would give the shirt off her back to a person in need; I have see her do it time and time again. I have seen both my parents do things to help others and make their lives easier without a thought to themselves. I guess what made me particularly receptive to these emotions was that Sunday we were celebrating Thanksgiving and it reminded me of all the Thanksgiving and Christmas’s that my parents and I spent at church making food, and helping people. This year even though I will not be their, my parents as usual will be at church helping to make Thanksgiving dinner, showing the world, and community exactly why I love and admire them.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Salt Of The Earth
As we drove home tonight from Chiayi-Tainan I had a sudden moment where I was back in the car with my mom and dad on the way home from Harrison. I could actually seem the in the front seats talking, their voices so clear that it was hard to believe they weren’t really there. Perhaps it was all the salt air from our visit to the salt plains, or the fact that I missed Sundays with them. Classical music drifted from the radio, relaxing and soothing the occupants of the car. My mind slowly drifted back to reality.
This morning I attended church with my Taiwanese aunt and uncle, the guest speakers at the church were a pastor and his wife from Hawaii. Church lasted for two hours and by the end of it I realized how much I miss my church. How much I missed our old priest Mother Edie’s voice as well as John’s voice and, and the familiarity of the service that I had been attending for the past 14 years of my life. Talking to the couple afterward they told me about their church on the beach in Waikiki, Hawaii. The couple was selling CD’s that the husband had made to celebrate God. My aunt wouldn’t let me leave until I had picked one that I liked. After church we went to eat Beef Noodle soup, my favorite food in Taiwan, and ice. Later we intended to go to the salt hill one of the 8 famous spots of Tainan County. Before that though we went back to their house to take a rest, on average I have been getting about 5 to 6 hours of sleep every night so I was extremely tired. When I woke up four hours had past, and we got ready to go to the salt hill in Chiayi-Tainan. On our journey to the salt hill we pasted through the beautiful country side. When we arrived at the museum it was closing so we just went to the actual salt hill where we took pictures. The salt hill was like a mountain of snow; we climbed to the top to take pictures and played in the salt. After the salt hill we went to eat dinner at a small fishing area where we had oyster everything… Sitting there I realized that I just didn’t know how lucky I was, until now. I was at a place that most people would consider paradise and I was surrounded by great people who loved me, and I have been for almost all my life.
On the drive back I was so relaxed and I dreamed of my parents. When we reached Tainan, we went night market where we played games, shopped and had a heck of a time. We walked past a Caucasian guy who was with a group of Taiwanese. Our eyes met and it was like, hi, I hope your having as much fun as I am. After night market we drove back to my host mom’s where the Aunt and Uncle dropped me off. Saying goodbye I went inside and took a shower even after the shower now I can still taste the salt in my mouth and nose, I can feel it seeping though my skin. My facebook status now says “I don’t have to use saline solution tonight“ (for my sinus). Today was amazing and everyday that I have spent with my third host family has been extremely fun and I have been extremely happy.
-A
This morning I attended church with my Taiwanese aunt and uncle, the guest speakers at the church were a pastor and his wife from Hawaii. Church lasted for two hours and by the end of it I realized how much I miss my church. How much I missed our old priest Mother Edie’s voice as well as John’s voice and, and the familiarity of the service that I had been attending for the past 14 years of my life. Talking to the couple afterward they told me about their church on the beach in Waikiki, Hawaii. The couple was selling CD’s that the husband had made to celebrate God. My aunt wouldn’t let me leave until I had picked one that I liked. After church we went to eat Beef Noodle soup, my favorite food in Taiwan, and ice. Later we intended to go to the salt hill one of the 8 famous spots of Tainan County. Before that though we went back to their house to take a rest, on average I have been getting about 5 to 6 hours of sleep every night so I was extremely tired. When I woke up four hours had past, and we got ready to go to the salt hill in Chiayi-Tainan. On our journey to the salt hill we pasted through the beautiful country side. When we arrived at the museum it was closing so we just went to the actual salt hill where we took pictures. The salt hill was like a mountain of snow; we climbed to the top to take pictures and played in the salt. After the salt hill we went to eat dinner at a small fishing area where we had oyster everything… Sitting there I realized that I just didn’t know how lucky I was, until now. I was at a place that most people would consider paradise and I was surrounded by great people who loved me, and I have been for almost all my life.
On the drive back I was so relaxed and I dreamed of my parents. When we reached Tainan, we went night market where we played games, shopped and had a heck of a time. We walked past a Caucasian guy who was with a group of Taiwanese. Our eyes met and it was like, hi, I hope your having as much fun as I am. After night market we drove back to my host mom’s where the Aunt and Uncle dropped me off. Saying goodbye I went inside and took a shower even after the shower now I can still taste the salt in my mouth and nose, I can feel it seeping though my skin. My facebook status now says “I don’t have to use saline solution tonight“ (for my sinus). Today was amazing and everyday that I have spent with my third host family has been extremely fun and I have been extremely happy.
-A
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Scream and Shake
The world shakes around you voices scream, and people call out. The shock of the quake is what makes you freeze. Half asleep the vibration and rocking of the building jerks us to attention, bring our senses on high alert. The pure shock that our school is literally rocking back and forth is enough to make us question our safety. I had never been in an earth quake before I came to Taiwan, now it seems like they are a month occurrence though this one was the most violent I have ever felt. Five floors rock back and forth for about 30 seconds, startled girls cry out not sure of what is going on. Then it stops just as suddenly as it started going away like it was never there to begin with. The date is Thursday October 22, 2009 and I have just been jerked away right in the middle of my half slumber in Chinese class. This week my new class schedule has kicked in and I am in Chinese courses that I don’t understand the teachers think it is very weird that I have been put in their classes but they are all nice. Actually a few of them said feel free to sleep because until about the second semester things won’t start fully clicking in. My Chinese is improving day by day with like shocks here and there. But this week has been the most interesting in Taiwan so far. On Sunday we went to the hot springs in Tainan County where we all proceeded to mud ourselves. Then an earth quake shakes the school. It’s amazing how native I can be. I though after Sunday things couldn’t get any better this month. I was wrong. On Friday, tomorrow, my classmates and I our going to Taichung, a city in the middle of Taiwan in between Taipei (the capital) and Tainan (my home). While we are there we will look at明道 a university in Taichung. Then it is time for the weekend while I don’t know what we will be doing the possibilities are endless.
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