Thank you

"The reason why you are depressed," my mother said, "is because you are not grateful for the things you have in your life."

It was winter of 2008, my freshman year of college.  I was on academic probation and weeks away from taking medical leave.  The way I saw it, I'd been holding in negative emotions for six years due to crappy stuff that had happened to me, and those feelings had finally reached the surface and were ripping me apart.  The way my mother saw it, I was an ungrateful brat who wasn't taking care of herself and didn't want to go to class.  I preferred my version of things.

After taking incompletes for all of my classes, I left college in February 2008 for two semesters of medical leave.  I'd like to say that I spent that entire year getting my act together and everyone else was magically fixed when I returned to college in January of 2009.  That's partially true.  I spent that year in therapy and worked a couple of jobs.  One was as a canvasser for a grassroots political campaign, and the other was at a women's clothing store.  I met a lot of interesting people at both of those jobs, and I learned what it meant to have a real (read: crappy, minimum wage) job.

My grandmother was living with us at the time while she received treatment for cancer.  She passed away in February of 2009, a few weeks after I returned to school.

Sophomore year was substantially better.  I moved to off-campus housing, made some really great friends, and began taking writing (and my studies in general) more seriously.  Still, that year was tinged with two heartbreaks--one small, one massive.  I longed for a new environment, a chance to start over.  I filled out an application for a year-long study abroad program in Taiwan...and the rest as they say, is history.

The last week has been a major perspective shift for me.  I tend to get down on myself easily, and with the frustrations of living in a different culture and the weather (we haven't had any sun in about a month in Taipei) has made being happy a struggle.

The final straw came on Friday, when I spent six hours running around trying to process my visa.  I wanted to give up.  But then I remembered my life.  My mom, my friends here and back home, and my new blog followers.  And I've been reading Tahereh Mafi's blog, The Rejectionist, Single Dad Laughing, and my lovely new followers' blogs.  These people (and you all) have inspired and challenged me and forced me to dig deep about myself, this blog, and my life.  And I've realized something:

My writing is not for me.  This blog is not for me.  It's for you.  It's for the visitors and followers who haven't arrived yet.

I've spent this week coming up with a list of things that I really, truly, am grateful for.

There's the obvious ones, like my family, my friends, and my health.

But there are also things like: The Jim Henson Company, The Walt Disney Company, and Pixar Studios.  Kermit the Frog and "The Great Mouse Detective" helped make my childhood magical.
Eggs.  Eggs are delicious.
The internet.  It has allowed me to start this blog, read your lovely blogs, and talk with my mom on Skype.
Oh.  My. God.  BOOKS.  So good.
Music.
The understanding that every day is a chance to get it right.

I am grateful for these things, and all of you.

Have an amazing week, everyone!

Letter to My Mother

PREFACE: I wrote this letter to my mom while procrastinating working on my final project.  My friend, who, like me, is a smart, beautiful capable person fed up with male mediocrity, insisted I share this letter to the whole world.  I told her that I'd publish it on my blog later but she was having none of it.  She told me to post it now.  So, what the heck?  No time like the present.  Life is too short.


Elizabeth Edwards died two days ago.  And I feel horrible that such an accomplished woman died overshadowed by scandal.


She believed in her husband, championed his cause, raised his children.  And how did her husband pay her back?  He had an a tawdry affair, fathered a child, and denied it.  While his wife had cancer.

Imagine if the roles were switched.  What would people say about Elizabeth if she had an affair and ran for president while her husband had cancer?

Will she be remembered for her intelligence, her career, her eloquence, or her passion for her causes?  Nope.  She will be remembered as the wife of a failed presidential candidate.  As the caricature "Saint Elizabeth".  As a monster who screeched at her aides and at her unfaithful husband.

Her life, one full of potential, has been reduced to a Page Six blurb.  All because of her stupid husband.

I'm realizing how unbelievably unfair our society is.  A few weeks ago I went shopping with Marta.  She needed to buy a camera and I provided company and interpretation services.  We were in a department store looking at creams and makeup and diamond rings.  The entire floor was devoted to women's beauty products, and they were quite expensive.  Most floors in department stores are filled with products for women.  And yet, women make 77 cents for every dollar men make in the U. S.  How is that?

If I have to spend the rest of my life alone, I'm prepared to do it.  Days like today I don't know why I'm working so hard to acquire a skill set and understand myself, but I know that it will be worth it one day.  If I have to work three times as hard as a man to get any recognition, then so be it.  If no man meets my standards right now because I'm too busy busting my a** to make something of myself, then so be it.  Let them call me a b***.  Let them call me heartless.  But I will not die under the burden of someone else's failures.

A lot has happened in three weeks.

Hey, everyone!  Sorry it's been so long since my last post.  Suffice it to say that I've been spending the last few weeks trying to establish a routine in the midst of adjusting to Taiwan.  That's my fancy way of saying that getting up for class at eight in the morning has been a challenge, and I've only been going to bed at a more or less regular time since Sunday.

I've also been emotionally processing a lot of things.  Since I last blogged, I've heard news of two natural deaths and a suicide from back home.  I would like to extend my condolences to the Everdells, the Laguerres, and the Millers.  Nora Miller, a current junior at my home university, burned herself alive near the track field two weeks ago.  I met her father, who works for my university, when my room was accidentally cleaned out last semester.  He was very kind and helpful.  I cannot imagine the amount of pain Nora must have been in to cause her to do such a thing, nor can I understand the anguish her family is experiencing.  I pray that Nora has finally found peace, and that her family can one day conclude that their daughter's death was not in vain.

I turned 21 last week, a milestone to be sure, but what kind of milestone remains to be seen.  I celebrated the occasion by riding cable cars up the mountains near my current university (see my Facebook photos), drinking tea, eating pizza, and dancing with other CIEE students at a rock and roll club.  I am deeply enjoying branching out and meeting new people.  Classes are not too hard, which allows me a lot of free time to take walks, try new food, and gaze at the glittering Taipei skyline that stretches below my university.  Every day I take another step outside of my comfort zone, and every day my past life in America seems farther and farther away from me.  Some of my classmates from CIEE speak longingly of their lives back home.  I can tell they ache for the familiar, to be surrounded by things and people they recognize.  I try to listen, but I can't say I understand.  I have never quite been able to find my own niche in America, so the chance for a clean break is something that feels long overdue.

The novelty of being in a different country is slowly beginning to wear off, but I've strategically postponed some adventures in order not to lose my sense of wonder.  Most of the CIEE students are leaving in December.  I'm not, so I don't share their sense of urgency to go clubbing three times a week or try a new restaurant across town every other night. I've deliberately not visited Taipei 101 or gone to the Shida night market.  I want to avoid the exhausted indifference of a jaded expat.  This week I've been feeling a little run down (I'm actually doing my homework during the week) and during class I've made myself take note of the majestic scenery outside my window.  Gauzy clouds, delicate as lace curtains, drape themselves over lush green mountains.  As the morning progresses, the sky shifts its color from a pastel grey to a blushing azure.  Taipei 101 rises alone above the winding freeways while cars whizz by with the air of industrious bees.  This is my daily view of the world.  I dare not take it for granted.

Some of my new expat comrades have felt the screeching halt of the honeymoon period.  I haven't yet; I'm letting the notion that Taipei is my new home creep up slowly on me.  Occasionally I miss certain things from home (weekend brunch foods, humidity below 85%, books in English), but Facebook, Skype, GChat and AIM keep me up to date on all of you, so I am not very homesick.  What's more, every night I share my bed with Sam, by pink stuffed rabbit from childhood, and my copy of the Bible discreetly titled "The Scriptures".  When you're away from home, it's interesting to find what things provide comfort.  I hope that you are all happy to know that Sam and the Scriptures (stupid band name?) do an excellent job.