Here's the link:
stumbleintohappiness.blogspot.com
See you all on the other side!
Marjorie
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Thursday, February 16, 2012
A few updates
I've decided to legally change my name. I'll be substituting my one last name for two last names in honor of the two people who have expended the energy to raise me. One is related to me biologically; the other is not. Nonetheless, they are my parents, I love them both, and I want my name to reflect that.
I've decided to begin a new blog, Penetrating Syllogisms, which will likely go up sometime in March. I used to beat myself up about not really posting when I got back from Beijing at the end of August, but a) school was hectic, and b) reverse culture shock and the emotional maturation that follows can be messy and I wasn't ready to vomit undigested feelings onto a semi-public space. Finally, I'm okay with this being just a travel blog that captures just one year of my life. It was a lot of things, that year, but it was. I'm in a different place now, pursuing new projects and thinking about a variety of things, and I want a new place to explore all of that.
The people I have met along this journey have thoroughly impressed me with their wit, kindness, humor and insight. I would like to take all of you with me, but I understand if you can't make the trip.
It's been amazing. Hope to see most, if not all of you, in March.
Love,
Marjorie
I've decided to begin a new blog, Penetrating Syllogisms, which will likely go up sometime in March. I used to beat myself up about not really posting when I got back from Beijing at the end of August, but a) school was hectic, and b) reverse culture shock and the emotional maturation that follows can be messy and I wasn't ready to vomit undigested feelings onto a semi-public space. Finally, I'm okay with this being just a travel blog that captures just one year of my life. It was a lot of things, that year, but it was. I'm in a different place now, pursuing new projects and thinking about a variety of things, and I want a new place to explore all of that.
The people I have met along this journey have thoroughly impressed me with their wit, kindness, humor and insight. I would like to take all of you with me, but I understand if you can't make the trip.
It's been amazing. Hope to see most, if not all of you, in March.
Love,
Marjorie
Friday, December 2, 2011
New Blog?
Considering starting a new blog on the life and adventures of a soon-to-be college graduate, complete with failed attempts at growing up and, of course, writing. Stay tuned.
Friday, November 4, 2011
I Want My Rose-Colored Glasses Back, Part 1
What a difference a week makes!
This past week has had more drama than I can remember. On Saturday a blizzard hit Southern Connecticut and parts of upstate New York with a vengeful force, knocking down trees, causing extensive damage to power lines, leaving my entire campus without power. Power went out Saturday night: by Sunday morning we had only begun to guess the extensiveness of the damage. Trees were downed everywhere; I had to fight my way around a couple of straggling branches on my way to the library, but it was in vain because it was closed. Everything was closed. The entire town was without power. I called my parents and they came and got me and took me back to New York for a couple of days. Those who stayed behind either stayed in their dorms and their houses or huddled together in the library for warmth. By Tuesday power in central campus was restored, but the seniors and many juniors live in separate houses that rely on the town's power source still had no electricity or heat. My poor housemates were sleeping in the same room to stave off the cold. They could see their breath inside the house. In spite of the fact that the seniors were freezing their butts off , my university's administration announced that classes would be resumed on Wednesday, and that homecoming weekend would be happening as scheduled. This was not a popular decision, but what could we do? We're dependent college students. Occupy [my college's name] would not have been an effective strategy.
And then, Wednesday morning, on my way back to campus, I was in a car accident. Thankfully no one is hurt, but the front of the car is damaged pretty badly. I got back to campus in time for my afternoon class, and that night, after 94 hours without heat or electricity, power came back on for everyone else. Power is coming back on slowly for more remote parts of campus, and the rest of the surrounding town should have power by Sunday if not before.
This entire week my brain has been going WTF. At everything. This blog post was supposed to be about reverse culture shock in a more indirect way: I'd be going through my daily life and noticing subtle changes I hadn't before. Upon noticing how my powers of observations have changed, I would reflect, very poetically, about how before I left for Taiwan I was naive to the Great Injustices of the World and now I am growing and becoming a Person, yay for me.
Now I'm just like OMG We have heat and light and electricity! Hooray! Back to my mountains of homework!
Sorry for the lack of insight this time around--it's just been one of those weeks.
See you all soon!
Marjorie
This past week has had more drama than I can remember. On Saturday a blizzard hit Southern Connecticut and parts of upstate New York with a vengeful force, knocking down trees, causing extensive damage to power lines, leaving my entire campus without power. Power went out Saturday night: by Sunday morning we had only begun to guess the extensiveness of the damage. Trees were downed everywhere; I had to fight my way around a couple of straggling branches on my way to the library, but it was in vain because it was closed. Everything was closed. The entire town was without power. I called my parents and they came and got me and took me back to New York for a couple of days. Those who stayed behind either stayed in their dorms and their houses or huddled together in the library for warmth. By Tuesday power in central campus was restored, but the seniors and many juniors live in separate houses that rely on the town's power source still had no electricity or heat. My poor housemates were sleeping in the same room to stave off the cold. They could see their breath inside the house. In spite of the fact that the seniors were freezing their butts off , my university's administration announced that classes would be resumed on Wednesday, and that homecoming weekend would be happening as scheduled. This was not a popular decision, but what could we do? We're dependent college students. Occupy [my college's name] would not have been an effective strategy.
And then, Wednesday morning, on my way back to campus, I was in a car accident. Thankfully no one is hurt, but the front of the car is damaged pretty badly. I got back to campus in time for my afternoon class, and that night, after 94 hours without heat or electricity, power came back on for everyone else. Power is coming back on slowly for more remote parts of campus, and the rest of the surrounding town should have power by Sunday if not before.
This entire week my brain has been going WTF. At everything. This blog post was supposed to be about reverse culture shock in a more indirect way: I'd be going through my daily life and noticing subtle changes I hadn't before. Upon noticing how my powers of observations have changed, I would reflect, very poetically, about how before I left for Taiwan I was naive to the Great Injustices of the World and now I am growing and becoming a Person, yay for me.
Now I'm just like OMG We have heat and light and electricity! Hooray! Back to my mountains of homework!
Sorry for the lack of insight this time around--it's just been one of those weeks.
See you all soon!
Marjorie
Monday, October 24, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
You Are Your Most Important Character
I survived the first round of midterms unscathed. My second round of midterms is the first week of November, and I have a paper due in a week and a half. But! I am not thinking about those things right now, because fall break is this weekend! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
I can't wait to catch up with all of you and see what magical words of mighty fiction you have been churning out. I am sure they are numerous and splendid.
I have been feeling a bit guilty about putting aside my extra-curriculars such as blogging and fictioning. But graduating from college is not optional. It has something I have been forced to focus on with razor-sharp concentration. I've been plowing through papers, short and long, week after week. I can't believe it's already the middle of the semester.
My creative side side, as a result, has been feeling a little neglected. "What about your characters?" it has asked me, sniffling a little. "What about developing your voice and devoting yourself to launching your surely splendiferous literary career?" Thus far, I haven't been able to come up with anything to console it other than bottles of wine my meager student budget can afford and binging on reruns of The West Wing.
But last week during office hours, it hit me.
In a weird way, you could say I am working on my fiction while I do my mountains of government reading and taking notes during class. I'm forcing my brain to get smarter and more critical. The stuff I was writing two months ago is not going to cut it now. And I am writing. The typing hasn't stopped. The main characters are just not in my head, but on the world stage. I'm pretty sure my characters are going to get more interesting and nuanced, because I'm training the organ that creates them. As long as you're growing and learning, you're working on your writing. The most important character to improve is yourself.
Happy Pumpkin Month.
Marjorie
I can't wait to catch up with all of you and see what magical words of mighty fiction you have been churning out. I am sure they are numerous and splendid.
I have been feeling a bit guilty about putting aside my extra-curriculars such as blogging and fictioning. But graduating from college is not optional. It has something I have been forced to focus on with razor-sharp concentration. I've been plowing through papers, short and long, week after week. I can't believe it's already the middle of the semester.
My creative side side, as a result, has been feeling a little neglected. "What about your characters?" it has asked me, sniffling a little. "What about developing your voice and devoting yourself to launching your surely splendiferous literary career?" Thus far, I haven't been able to come up with anything to console it other than bottles of wine my meager student budget can afford and binging on reruns of The West Wing.
But last week during office hours, it hit me.
In a weird way, you could say I am working on my fiction while I do my mountains of government reading and taking notes during class. I'm forcing my brain to get smarter and more critical. The stuff I was writing two months ago is not going to cut it now. And I am writing. The typing hasn't stopped. The main characters are just not in my head, but on the world stage. I'm pretty sure my characters are going to get more interesting and nuanced, because I'm training the organ that creates them. As long as you're growing and learning, you're working on your writing. The most important character to improve is yourself.
Happy Pumpkin Month.
Marjorie
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
School Daze
Hey folks!
Sorry about the brief interruption. School's been hectic. I've been picking classes, getting settled into my room, making sure my credits from last year transfer and that I'm on track to complete my major on time so that I can graduate in the spring. Now that that's all taken care of, I can make my rounds and start commenting on your fabulous blogs and (I hope) start posting on a more regular schedule.
It's strange being back. Last night as I was looking over photos from the Beijing trip, it almost felt as though I was looking at someone else's adventure. My little college in Connecticut is not only thousands of miles away from Asia, it's several cultural arenas away as well. The skills that I learned while traveling are definitely applicable in the routine of a college life, but they are in the background, like the hand that manipulates the marionette. For one thing, I'm speaking Chinese way less, but weirdly, when I'm in Chinese class, my brain barely relates the fact that my professor isn't speaking English.
I miss writing. My work in progress is on the hard drive on my other computer, my old Dell that overheats and shuts down without warning. I've been thinking of how to bring all the loose ends together, and I was discussing this with another writer friend of mine, who's in the middle of his own projects.
"Do you know how it ends?" he asked me.
I told him that I did.
"Then write it down," he said. He told me that if I have the ending written down, it'll help for my next episode of writer's block, because I'll know where my novel is going.
So, the next time I get a hold of my work in progress, I'm pounding out that ending.
Also: I'm turning 22 on Thursday. I'm OLD.
Sorry about the brief interruption. School's been hectic. I've been picking classes, getting settled into my room, making sure my credits from last year transfer and that I'm on track to complete my major on time so that I can graduate in the spring. Now that that's all taken care of, I can make my rounds and start commenting on your fabulous blogs and (I hope) start posting on a more regular schedule.
It's strange being back. Last night as I was looking over photos from the Beijing trip, it almost felt as though I was looking at someone else's adventure. My little college in Connecticut is not only thousands of miles away from Asia, it's several cultural arenas away as well. The skills that I learned while traveling are definitely applicable in the routine of a college life, but they are in the background, like the hand that manipulates the marionette. For one thing, I'm speaking Chinese way less, but weirdly, when I'm in Chinese class, my brain barely relates the fact that my professor isn't speaking English.
I miss writing. My work in progress is on the hard drive on my other computer, my old Dell that overheats and shuts down without warning. I've been thinking of how to bring all the loose ends together, and I was discussing this with another writer friend of mine, who's in the middle of his own projects.
"Do you know how it ends?" he asked me.
I told him that I did.
"Then write it down," he said. He told me that if I have the ending written down, it'll help for my next episode of writer's block, because I'll know where my novel is going.
So, the next time I get a hold of my work in progress, I'm pounding out that ending.
Also: I'm turning 22 on Thursday. I'm OLD.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Who Likes Pictures of Bunny Rabbits?
I got this a while ago from Steph Schmidt, and kept putting off doing this question-y thing because I was busy getting ready for China, then recovering from jet lag, then getting ready for school. Now that I'm settled, it's meme time!
1. Are you a rutabaga? I don't think so. It would be upsetting if it turned out I were just a rutabaga dreaming that I was a real person.
2. Who is your current crush? I currently don't have one, which is a first for me.
3. Upload a heartwarming picture that makes you smile
5. Name one habit that would cause others to plot your demise. Inability to keep my room clean and I turn everything into a debate somehow.
6. What is the wierdest, most-disgusting job you've ever had to do? Look through an inmate's personal belongings to find anything potentially anti-establisment. It wasn't so much what I found as it was the weird feeling of rifling through someone's personal belongings with rubber gloves.
7. Where da muffin top at? Sitting above the muffin bottom.
8. What author introduced you to your genre? I don't have a specific genre. I just write fiction about people. I guess you could say I really clicked with Russian literature in high school, because I like to write about the non-supernatural sufferings of mere mortals and find the twisted humor in it.
9. Describe yourself using obscure Latin words. Lux et veritas (light and truth).
I shall announce the three recipients of the blog on fire award in the comments! Yay!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Some reflections on traveling
 |
| On the Great Wall with new friends. |
I've been having some technical difficulties with Blogger this evening, so I'm just going to type away and hold my breath. I need to get better at using Blogger. Good thing I'm a writer and student--they are very low-tech kinds of jobs.
Beijing was wowza awesome. I met people that for the first time in my life I clicked with intellectually and were also incredibly fun to be around. I talked about politics and economics and culture from morning until night and then went clubbing with my new friends until the wee hours of the morning. I visited schools for migrant worker children and China's top consulting firm, and attended lectures on art, NGOs in China, health care, and the economy. Nearly every moment was saturated with provoking questions, deep thoughts, and stimulating conversation.
This year, I lived in Taiwan and visited Hong Kong and Beijing. These are very different places with people who speak very different Chinese from each other. The first few days in Beijing were overwhelming as I adjusted to listening to Chinese spoken with an accent that was a world away from what I had grown accustomed to. The first time I visited China in high school, I had much less of a problem with the accent than I did this time around. I guess it shows how fast you can get used to doing something one way, only to find that you can get just as used to doing something another way over time.
Things were very different for me a year ago. I took some very big risks and ventured way out of my comfort zone, but look where I wound up! I found a wonderful and supportive community of writers, I have lived abroad, and am taking writing more seriously. I have gained enormous perspective and insight and learned a ton about myself. I know I'm going to look back on this year as a big turning point in my life, because this was the year that I realized what I am capable of. And you, my dear blog followers, have played a strong supporting role in that revelation.
But I should warn you: traveling is not a cure-all, nor does traveling in and of itself make you an interesting person. The experience of travel is merely an opportunity, and it's up to you to make the most of it. I say this because traveling can also be inconvenient, expensive, aggravating, and even disappointing. Flying for more than twelve hours and missing your connecting flight is no fun. A week of jet lag is a pain in the ass. Culture shock can be daunting, and homesickness is very real. The excitement can (and does) wear off after a while. I'm pretty happy to be able to park my butt in one place for a substantial period of time. But I'm so glad I did it. I'm living the life I always dreamed of right now, not at some fuzzy point in the future. Traveling and writing has helped me understand that when you're on the move and spilling your guts across a page, right now is all you've got.
I think that's enough for now. I'm gonna turn in. Thank you all so much for your support.
Love,
Marjorie
Mac...Drool...
I'm in the Apple store in Manhattan falling in love with a Mac as we speak. I'd like to take a minute to congratulate Misty Provencher and Michael Offut for getting agented and book deal'd. You guys are awesome and have been longtime supporters of this blog. I am proud to be your friend in the blogosphere.
Things are still a whirlwind. School is just a few days away, and I need to post a longer post about Beijing with a few pictures. I mean, we need at least one of me on the Great Wall! :)
And I will get around to talking more about the lovely award Steph Schmidt gave me. Non-jet lagged brain FTW.
Love you guys!
Marjorie
Things are still a whirlwind. School is just a few days away, and I need to post a longer post about Beijing with a few pictures. I mean, we need at least one of me on the Great Wall! :)
And I will get around to talking more about the lovely award Steph Schmidt gave me. Non-jet lagged brain FTW.
Love you guys!
Marjorie
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Jet Lag and Exhaustion, Day 4
Spent the last days sleeping and resting, and
Watching hurricane coverage on CNN.
Don't go to the beach.
See y'all soon.
Watching hurricane coverage on CNN.
Don't go to the beach.
See y'all soon.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Back from Beijing
Got in from Beijing at around 11:30 last night. So tired, but China was unbelievable. I met so many amazing people and I learned so much about myself.
Things were so different a year ago. Yesterday, August 23rd, made the one year anniversary that I got on a plane and headed to Taiwan, and my traveling adventures began.
I will post more when I am less groggy. Also, thanks to Steph Schmidt for the blog award she gave me a while back.
Things were so different a year ago. Yesterday, August 23rd, made the one year anniversary that I got on a plane and headed to Taiwan, and my traveling adventures began.
I will post more when I am less groggy. Also, thanks to Steph Schmidt for the blog award she gave me a while back.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Symptoms of Burnot Include
I was going to spend a productive day packing and getting ready for China on Friday, and the only thing I've really done so far today is shower and send a few emails. And check my new Twitter account obsessively.
I had to write a biography of myself for this conference that was 600 words or less, so when I finished this version I thought, I'm doing fine. Until I checked the email again.
Whoops.
Turns out no one wants to know that much about me. They wanted 600 characters or less.
Here's the long version that I'm going to whittle down for the conference. I'll even add a few dull details to make it more conference-apropos.
I was born and raised in New York City, and surrounded myself with almost every kind of book within my reach. Frequent trips to the library were a staple of my childhood.
I had the almost impossibly good fortune of attending a school whose core philosophy was learning for learning's sake from the age of six until seventeen. There were no grades, only written evaluations, and starting in high school we could form our own curriculum based on our own interests and ambitions.
The founder and longtime headmaster of this school, Stanley, recently went gently into that good night. As I reflect on my own story, I will always be indebted to his bold vision of education and the tenacity with which he clung to it. I am who I am because the school Stanley built taught me to have the courage to be the person I want to be right now.
I was monolingual until I took Latin in sixth grade, and then switched to Spanish in middle school and and added Chinese and French in high school. I've stuck with Chinese as an East Asian Studies major at college, and just returned from a year abroad in Taiwan. As a child people asked me if I spoke Spanish at home and if I frequently visited my grandparents in Puerto Rico because of my last name and my heritage.
These questions always befuddled me: I was American and I spoke English, as did both of my parents and their parents. I didn't understand how the color of my skin determined an allegiance to a particular language, so I tried as many languages on for size as I could.
As I grew older and continued to ask bigger and more provoking questions about myself, I've discovered that the only way to learn anything about yourself worth knowing is not studying your own history, or 'discovering your roots', as some call it. You must immerse yourself in the life of a stranger until you understand that he is you, even the parts of him you can't stand. To know yourself is to know others, and vice versa.
I had to write a biography of myself for this conference that was 600 words or less, so when I finished this version I thought, I'm doing fine. Until I checked the email again.
Whoops.
Turns out no one wants to know that much about me. They wanted 600 characters or less.
Here's the long version that I'm going to whittle down for the conference. I'll even add a few dull details to make it more conference-apropos.
I was born and raised in New York City, and surrounded myself with almost every kind of book within my reach. Frequent trips to the library were a staple of my childhood.
I had the almost impossibly good fortune of attending a school whose core philosophy was learning for learning's sake from the age of six until seventeen. There were no grades, only written evaluations, and starting in high school we could form our own curriculum based on our own interests and ambitions.
The founder and longtime headmaster of this school, Stanley, recently went gently into that good night. As I reflect on my own story, I will always be indebted to his bold vision of education and the tenacity with which he clung to it. I am who I am because the school Stanley built taught me to have the courage to be the person I want to be right now.
I was monolingual until I took Latin in sixth grade, and then switched to Spanish in middle school and and added Chinese and French in high school. I've stuck with Chinese as an East Asian Studies major at college, and just returned from a year abroad in Taiwan. As a child people asked me if I spoke Spanish at home and if I frequently visited my grandparents in Puerto Rico because of my last name and my heritage.
These questions always befuddled me: I was American and I spoke English, as did both of my parents and their parents. I didn't understand how the color of my skin determined an allegiance to a particular language, so I tried as many languages on for size as I could.
As I grew older and continued to ask bigger and more provoking questions about myself, I've discovered that the only way to learn anything about yourself worth knowing is not studying your own history, or 'discovering your roots', as some call it. You must immerse yourself in the life of a stranger until you understand that he is you, even the parts of him you can't stand. To know yourself is to know others, and vice versa.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I'm on it.
@buddingscholar1.
I had an account in 2009, and I didn't see the point. It was incredibly distracting and I figured Facebook would be enough.
But it's a convenient way for me to keep in touch with friends, family, and my interests: publishing, politics, and literature. I need to keep up on the run. It's just the way my life is going. If you have Twitter, and you follow this blog, I'll get to you soon.
So much has happened since Sunday it feels like it's Friday. I'll see you all in China if I don't post before then
Love,
Marjorie
@buddingscholar1.
I had an account in 2009, and I didn't see the point. It was incredibly distracting and I figured Facebook would be enough.
But it's a convenient way for me to keep in touch with friends, family, and my interests: publishing, politics, and literature. I need to keep up on the run. It's just the way my life is going. If you have Twitter, and you follow this blog, I'll get to you soon.
So much has happened since Sunday it feels like it's Friday. I'll see you all in China if I don't post before then
Love,
Marjorie
Friday, August 5, 2011
Just Do It
I'm writing this post to give myself a little motivation.
I'm in a major transitional part of my life right now. I'm switching computers (going to buy a new one very soon). I'm going to China next week. I'm entering my last year of college, or university, as some of you might call it. I'm turning twenty-two soon.
Not to mention I've hit full-on re-entry shock. So that's been interesting.
I've been feeling kind of grumpy about getting back on a plane, to be honest. I didn't like the idea of packing, going to an airport, going through security, and then just SITTING for what feels like an eternity.
"How am I going to do this again?" I moaned to myself in my head as I performed my daily tasks.
"You just do it," my better sense replied.
I've been making excuses like this about not writing. How am I going to write a WHOLE book? I'm too young. It will suck. I don't have the time.
Again: I'll just do it.
So I've been finding (or stealing, rather) little bubbles of time to write. Two hundred words here. Seven hundred there. Making the most out of fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, if only to silence the voices in my head that tell me AH HA HA THIS BOOK IS RIDICULOUS GIVE UP NOW OH LOOK A SQUIRREL YOU HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH ICE CREAM TODAY.
Some days I don't feel like a writer. But a writer I am and write I must. So, off I go. I wish you all very productive weekends. Or not.
What do you all do to get yourselves kickstarted on a project?
I'm in a major transitional part of my life right now. I'm switching computers (going to buy a new one very soon). I'm going to China next week. I'm entering my last year of college, or university, as some of you might call it. I'm turning twenty-two soon.
Not to mention I've hit full-on re-entry shock. So that's been interesting.
I've been feeling kind of grumpy about getting back on a plane, to be honest. I didn't like the idea of packing, going to an airport, going through security, and then just SITTING for what feels like an eternity.
"How am I going to do this again?" I moaned to myself in my head as I performed my daily tasks.
"You just do it," my better sense replied.
I've been making excuses like this about not writing. How am I going to write a WHOLE book? I'm too young. It will suck. I don't have the time.
Again: I'll just do it.
So I've been finding (or stealing, rather) little bubbles of time to write. Two hundred words here. Seven hundred there. Making the most out of fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, if only to silence the voices in my head that tell me AH HA HA THIS BOOK IS RIDICULOUS GIVE UP NOW OH LOOK A SQUIRREL YOU HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH ICE CREAM TODAY.
Some days I don't feel like a writer. But a writer I am and write I must. So, off I go. I wish you all very productive weekends. Or not.
What do you all do to get yourselves kickstarted on a project?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A Very Special Lady
So the author of this blog has a Mom, who is totally awesome and classy, and this weekend it's her birthday! She's the one I get the traveling gene from--she went to Africa for a year when she was in college and this picture is us together in Hong Kong. She's been a longtime supporter of this blog and always encourages me to write. Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Leaving Again
I'm going to China in two weeks.
I'm trying to let that sink in.
I feel like I just got here. I'm finally adjusted to being in this environment. I've barely settled into this routine. To being back in the time zone as my friends and family.
A part of me wants to ignore the inevitable, wants to pretend in two weeks I won't throw all my stuff back into a duffel bag and take a taxi at some ungodly hour to get on a thirteen (or more) hour flight.
At this point, I'm practically commuting back and forth to Asia.
I know I should feel excited, but that emotion is a bit slow coming. I think I'm wishing for a little more of the mundane banalities that everyone else seems to complain about.
But les's be honest, being stuck in the same place for very long was never my style.
I'm trying to let that sink in.
I feel like I just got here. I'm finally adjusted to being in this environment. I've barely settled into this routine. To being back in the time zone as my friends and family.
A part of me wants to ignore the inevitable, wants to pretend in two weeks I won't throw all my stuff back into a duffel bag and take a taxi at some ungodly hour to get on a thirteen (or more) hour flight.
At this point, I'm practically commuting back and forth to Asia.
I know I should feel excited, but that emotion is a bit slow coming. I think I'm wishing for a little more of the mundane banalities that everyone else seems to complain about.
But les's be honest, being stuck in the same place for very long was never my style.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
She's Back
The writer is in the building.
Worked on the work in progress last night, and that intoxicating feeling of getting back inside my protagonist's head. It was like taking a drive with an old friend.
Can't wait to get back to it.
Worked on the work in progress last night, and that intoxicating feeling of getting back inside my protagonist's head. It was like taking a drive with an old friend.
Can't wait to get back to it.
Friday, July 22, 2011
What do you do when it's 100 degrees outside?
Stay in an air conditioned room and write ficiton. DUH.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Taipei, Taiwan: Three years ago
Marjorie’s eyelids popped open to the sound of a blunt object pounding against the front door in a staccato rhythm: boom-boom-boom. Before she could move, Tomasz, the man who a moment ago was warming his hands against the small of her back, shoved his legs into a pair of pants and waddled to the door.
“Coming!” he shouted in Mandarin. A woman was shouting in the hallway. Marjorie recognized who it was (Mrs. Liu from downstairs) and what language it was (Taiwanese), but understood almost none of what was said. She was grateful that Tomasz was handling whoever it was at the door. She and Tomasz had an agreement that he would take care of any calls or visitors before nine in the morning. Marjorie pulled the covers over her head in a vain attempt to muffle the noise.
In spite of the cloth barrier, Marjorie could hear the exchange between Tomasz and the unwanted parties with perfect clarity. The men at the door were some kind of officials, though their Mandarin was slurred with a thick regional accent. Their deep, chesty voices demanded to speak with Tomasz. They uttered the syllables of his Chinese name—De Tang Mu--with the same peppered tempo to knock on the door. Tomasz, ever the skilled diplomat, replied in hushed tones like a mother attempting to soothe a distraught child. Only a trained ear could catch the underscore of repressed irritation.
The men demanded to see Tomasz’s passport. Apparently they did not believe Tomasz was who he said he was.
In a moment, Tomasz was at the bedroom door again. Marjorie noticed that in his haste Tomasz had put his T-shirt on backwards, and his coppery hair looked like the spines of an agitated porcupine. She smiled and opened her mouth to greet him and to make fun of the men at the door with their strange accents, but Tomasz held up his hand like a crossing guard and shook his head as if to say, “Not now.” He hovered for a moment over the dresser, and then picked up his American passport. He led Marjorie by the elbow into the bathroom. Marjorie swallowed her laughter when she saw that Tomasz’s eyes, the color of storm clouds, did not contain a trace of amusement.
“I’m serious,” he whispered. “Not a sound.” He tugged the shower curtain so that it completely concealed her, and left.
Like most Taiwanese apartments, Marjorie and Tomasz’s bathroom contained no bathtub. Only a shower curtain and a drain were in the northern corner, placed inconveniently next to a sink and toilet. The floor tiles felt clammy against the soles of Marjorie’s feet. The voices at the door were louder, and a knot of worry twisted inside Marjorie’s stomach. Things weren’t going well. Tomasz wasn’t going to amble back into their bedroom and bury his hands in Marjorie’s hair, wrapping his fingers around her curls the way she liked.
She heard the telltale sound of cartilage breaking and Tomasz howled. She burst from the bathroom and ran through the bedroom, but it was too late. Marjorie only caught a glimpse of the door slamming behind whoever it was wrestling Tomasz down the stairs, shouting at him in their ludicrous, broken Mandarin. Mrs. Liu’s shrill yelling added to the din. Above it all, Tomasz had resorted to his mother tongue of Polish to curse them, their mothers, and their country, in one long, unbroken stream.
Marjorie pressed her forehead against the door. Her throat closed tight and hot tears burned beneath her eyelids. She saw a constellation of blood droplets on the floor and a few smears on the doorknob where Tomasz had struggled. His cries were growing fainter. Tomasz and his captors were probably just reaching the street.
The apartment had no windows with a street view, so Marjorie bolted downstairs, right past the slack-jawed Mrs. Liu, her hair permed into a stiff helmet of silvery wires. Outside the city air was hot and heavy with moisture, like a panting dog ‘s breath. A military Jeep was rumbling down the narrow alley and into oncoming traffic. It made a right turn at the end of the road and ducked out of sight.
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