The Illusion of "Being Settled"

Taken this morning by a campus photographer

I kept telling myself I would post again when I was settled, that I would write again...at some point.  I've been back in the United States for three weeks, and I've spent two of them working in Connecticut, at my home university.  The company that hired me is running a camp designed for international students who want to get into top colleges.  They sit through hours of SAT classes, TOEFL classes, and sessions with admissions coaches.  With the little free time they have, they're playing ball with the counselors.  I'm a TOEFL instructor.  I enjoy it.  My schedule is flexible, and I have a lot of free time. 


The kids and counselors are off to New York City and won't be back until later tonight.  The halls are deliciously quiet (except for the infant daughter of the IT director, who has recently discovered her own voice). I checked out a book out of the library twenty-four hours ago and I'm already halfway through it.  I have time to read! (Madness, I tell you!)  I can talk to my friends and family on the phone!  Food is everywhere!  I have one roommate now, instead of three.  The bathrooms sparkle from cleanliness.  The Mac computer that my company gave me actually runs properly.  Taiwan seems very far away from me.   Every moment is electric or automated, and my body sighs from relief as I feed it carbs, carbs, and more carbs.  Cheerios are wonderful.

And yet there's a persistent strangeness.  Masking irritation at a comment about Chinese culture I don't agree with.  Acquaintances give me expressions of woeful incomprehension: you were abroad for a whole year?  Friends who are delighted to see me: are you in New York? (No, sadly.)  We've got to catch up! (Yes, as soon as I finish my nap and get through another to-do list).

But these adjustments are mere pebbles in comparison to the mountain shaking off a layer of dust and inching to the forefront of my head: when are you going to start writing again, missy?

There's tonight, and there's Sunday.  But I've got to buckle down and get back to this soon.  My characters are lunging toward me with such a fierce clarity I can't ignore them for much longer.

How is it already July?  It was April just a few months ago, and I was twelve hours ahead surrounded by green mountains and humidity as dense as lead.

How've you all been?

50 Followers and a Breif Update

Hi guys,

I'm currently writing this from the Narita airport in Tokyo waiting for my flight home which is in about two hours. I spent the last ten days gloriously unconnected to the internet while I vacationed in Hong Kong with my mom, who came all the way from America to see me.  It was a restorative and much needed break.  The food is delicious, and I nearly induced myself into a food coma stuffing myself with dim sum almost every day.  We took a brief trip over to Macau, an island full of casinos, to eat Portuguese food and visit an incredible art museum.  And now, it's time to say goodbye to Asia...for now.  I'll be coming right back in August for a conference in Beijing.  But that's later.   I'm so thrilled to be going back to the United States.  Traveling is great, but there's no place like home.

Also:  I have fifty whole followers now!  Thank you all, you lovely people!  Tell me--what should I (by which I mean we) do to celebrate?

Things I Have Learned (While Abroad)

I was going to make a list, you know, of "things I have learned".  I would have been not unlike a fifth-grader at the end of a school year standing in the front of the classroom, with droplets of sweat clinging to the back of her neck while staring at piece of paper veined with thin blue lines and covered in smudges.  Her classmates would be squirming in their seats anxious to tear down the hallways and into the sunshine that beckons through the dirt-streaked windows.

But this is not fifth grade, is it?

The truth is I can't articulate exactly what it is I've learned in my time here.  I've done all those stereotypical things that people "do" when they are abroad: strengthened my language skills, made new friends, pushed myself beyond my comfort zone, etc, etc.  But there has been more to my experience than these things.  There were definitely times when I was so overwhelmed I felt I couldn't adjust anymore, and I didn't feel like I needed to.  I observed that some of my fellow exchange students got stuck in ruts: the going to clubs four times a week rut; the buying cheap shit rut; the I-hate-Taiwan-rut. (full disclosure: I was stuck in all of those ruts at one point or another this year.  Mom--I never went out four nights a week.)  It was extremely painful to leave those ruts, but when I did, I always learned more about myself and the world became a richer place.  And I will always be grateful for finding the courage to leave former, less than beautiful versions of myself behind.  It meant saying goodbye to ways of thinking, people, and habits that were no longer in my best interest.  But the people I have met, the new opinions I have adopted and the new things I am doing are fulfilling beyond my wildest expectations.  This year, while it had its ups and downs, was a gift.

 I am grateful for who I have become and the people who have accompanied me thus far.  If you're reading this blog, then that means you.  Thank you for coming along with me on this journey.  I look forward to the many places we'll go together.

Sincerely,
Marjorie

P. S.  I can change!  I can take a picture with Hello Kitty paraphernalia and not puke.

My Research Project (Taiwanese Tuesday)

Or, what I've been worried about for the last six months.

I came to Taiwan with the intention of researching about seventeenth-century Chinese eunuchs in hopes of using that research for a creative thesis.

It didn't work out, mainly because I couldn't find a professor to work with me.

The resident director of my program is Buddhist, and knows pretty much Every Living Buddhist in The World.  I'm sure she's met the Dalai Lama at one point.  In December I accompanied her on a translation retreat run by an international Buddhist women's association.  It was a very cold but enlightening weekend.  The ladies I met were of all ages and walks of life, and had taken refuge in Buddhism for different reasons.  I participated in workshops where mostly Chinese was spoken, and got to know them over the course of

Because of her connections and my limited options, I decided refocus my project.  I love languages (not linguistics--yuck).  I was intrigued by something my resident director had said: when the Buddhist sutras were translated from Sanskrit to Chinese, the translators had to come up with about 100,000 new idioms to convey the ideas the sutras were proposing.  The concepts did not exist in Chinese, and so the language itself had to change in order to allow a new religion to take place in a different culture.

My project is seeing if Taiwanese students under 25 still use these centuries-old idioms today.


I'm in the last stages of drafting a questionnaire that I will be using to ask Taiwanese students around my campus.  I already did some interviews and ran into some preliminary glitches, so it's back to the drawing board.

And no.  This questionnaire does not include all 100,000 of the idioms.  That would be overdoing it just a hair.

See you Thursday.

Honesty and Doubt

Since the rapture didn't happen, it means we all have to get back to our responsibilities and commitments.  I'm actually kind of happy about that.  I'm in the middle of a lot of interesting things, and if the world had ended, I wouldn't have been able to go to Hong Kong to see my mom.

Time to be honest about some things, I think.

I haven't been completely happy here.

That's a bit of an understatement.

I really hated it here for a long time.

It's no one's fault.  I'm not blaming my program, the friends I've made, or even Taiwan.  But this experience for a long time was none of what I was expecting.  I complained pretty extensively to my mother and close friends and left it at that.  I had work to do, classes to go to, and projects that needed to be completed on time.  Making deadlines has historically been difficult for me, and when I leave here, I leave.  That's it.

So, I figured if I didn't have anything positive to say, then say nothing at all.  I beat myself up about not posting because not everyone gets to travel, so I didn't have the luxury of being unhappy.

This is not to say that I spent every moment of my time in abject misery.  There were moments where I found satisfaction, and I sucked those moments dry to find the strength to keep going.  And I threw myself into my research here: working with my advisor, refining my topic, working on my proposal, and steeling myself not to give up.  I could have.  The temptation was there; there were a lot inconveniences and obstacles, not the least of which was that I couldn't take books out of the library, and I needed a bibliography.  So I needed to get creative.

And then, like magic, everything came together for me.  The end is in sight, all I have to do is complete my research, take a final, write a couple of papers, complete my online job training, and I'm on my way.

Life is glorious.  Living often isn't.  But the unromantic moments (or days, or weeks, or even longer) help us enjoy those romantic moment when they hit us over the head.

I'll talk more about my research project on Tuesday.  Enjoy not being raptured.

A is for ARC

Image forthcoming.  Need to charge my camera battery.

Today I picked up my Alien Resident Certificate (ARC), the identification card that goes with my resident visa, from the immigration office.  This is a replacement ARC; I lost my original and had to reapply for it.  Ugh.

This visa thing has been a mess from November.  I originally got a three-months visitor visa that was extended to six months, with a February expiration date.  But when I applied for my Resident Visa, it turned out that the visa processing office in New York had given me the wrong visa type.  They had given me a visa for exchange students, but I'm not here on exchange; I'm here with a program.  My resident director threatened the people at the consulate in Taiwan to use her political connections because she was so exasperated with the entire procedure.  I asked her how screaming at a service person fit in to her Buddhist way of life.  She replied that the Buddha appears to people in the forms most needed to "wake people up", so if yelling was what it took, then so be it.  (She's kind of my hero.)

But then I lost my ARC a couple of weeks ago.  It didn't even came home with me.

I'm kind of an absentminded person, so things easily slip my mind.  I'm going to try to use this experience to be more careful with my stuff.  Because going back and forth to process these loose ends of my visa have been a huge hassle, and I'm glad it's all over.

Happy April Fool's!

Writer-Blogger Thursdays: Why I Will Never Make Fun Of Nicholas Sparks Again

I've made up my mind to never make fun of a commercially successful author for as long as I live.  Barring the exception of their showing up at my house in a Barney costume and yodeling, I'm not gonna do it.  Even if their writing sucks.  Even if it really sucks.

Why?  Because they've earned their success.  They really have.

I used to think that all mainstream audiences were manipulated by a Jabba the Hut-like mastermind who paid  talentless hacks ghastly sums of money to churn out fodder for the masses, inoculating them against the works of gifted writers trying to make their way in the world.  I believed that only way to be successful was to write about sparkly vampires in high school and their angsty girlfriends.  Or be Stephen King.

Then I took a peek at Nicholas Sparks' website.  In case you haven't heard of him, many people with good taste  in books accuse him of writing the same book over and over.  I loved to use his name as a punchline for every joke I made about bad writers.

Until two days ago.

I looked at his Writing Advice section and found what he had to say made a lot of sense.  His writing advice didn't differ that much from the advice of other writers whose works I enjoy.  (Read a lot, write a lot, learn the industry, be professional, etc., etc.)  And you know what?  He's found what works for him and he sticks with it.  He's got an audience who loves his books.

But, as I learned from reading about his personal journey, he worked very hard.


The question of his talent, while debated in some literary circles, is negligible at this point. He worked his butt off, paid his dues, and now he's enjoying the rewards.  I can't begrudge him his success.

I've been worrying if I am inherently good enough to pull off being a writer.  There are voices in my head screaming that what I'm writing is garbage, because I compare myself to others.  This past weekend I was tempted to curl up in a ball and give up on my work in progress.  Especially after such a tiring weekend at the spa.

But I didn't give up.  Instead, I pounded out 2,500 words.  Because I am a writer, and this is what I do.  Writing is a calling, but it's also a job.  I get to do it, no matter if I think I'm good enough or not.  There are plenty of immensely talented artists out there, and they miss out on opportunities to be more successful because they're hanging around complaining about how the movie/writing/art industry is corrupted beyond salvation.  While they're moaning that no one will appreciate their work, another artist who may not be as good will land a multimillion dollar after toiling in obscurity for years.

Don't be the whining artist.  The world needs your creation, not your complaining.


And don't stop making art, no matter how bad you think it is.


If you are true to yourself, and write that book sitting inside you, and revise like a super ninja on steroids, then the universe will break itself open for you one day, because fortune favors the hardworking and the fearless.

Also, you can't give up, no matter how many people slam doors in your face.  Just in case you were wondering if I forgot about to mention that part.  I didn't.

Happy Thursday!

P. S.  A-Z challenge starts tomorrow!  Who's excited?

Taiwanese Tuesday: A Weekend in Wulai

On Saturday I went with my host mother to Wu Lai, a place in the mountains that had a hot spring resort.  I got to sleep, eat, and use the hot spring for free, a pretty nice deal.  My host mother was every bit as embarrassing and hovering and caring as a mother can be.  She stuffed me full of food, introduced me to all of her friends, and took me to see some beautiful scenery in Wu Lai.  I was amazed at how natural the landscape was just half an hour from Taipei.

The hot spring portion of my weekend was quite an experience.  I had been to a hot spring hotel before that was very discreet: an attendant filled a tub of water in a bathroom, and there was an anteroom where you could change before and after soaking.  This hot spring had none of that.  I stripped down and went into a public area butt naked with a whole bunch of Taiwanese ladies I didn't know with my host mother and all of her friends.

You might be thinking the hot spring was unsanitary.  Nope!  The place was spotless; it was a real spa, not a public pool, so they could afford to pay staff to clean.  Clients showered before and after soaking.  I soaked for a while in hot water, dried off in a sauna, and let a giant nozzle pummel lukewarm water on my back.  My host mother and I rubbed wet salt on each others' backs and went inside what looked like a reverse sauna.  It had transparent walls but was full of hot fog.  I sat and let the salt melt on my skin, then my host mother doused me off with a cold shower nozzle.  I shrieked because I wasn't prepared for the cold.  The ladies chuckled at my reaction.

The spa had no windows, allowing steam to flow freely from under the roof.  Except for the reverse sauna, I wore my glasses the whole time.

There was an outdoor portion of the spa that had two pools: one very hot and one ice cold.  How hot was the hot pool?  SCALDING.

"Good Lord!" I cried in Mandarin as I lowered myself into it.  "It's too hot. I can't take it!"

"Don't force yourself," one of my host mother's friends said.  "Sit on the edge until you get used to it."

I did as she advised, then followed my host mother back and forth between the hot and cold pools.  My toes crackled as though a current of electricity was flowing through me.

"You're very brave," the ladies murmured as I went back and forth between pools.

I took a break from the extremely hot and cold water after a while and went to look at the river tumbling over the rocks and the steam billowing out of the spa.  A few robed ladies rested on deck chairs next to me.  The river was an opaque emerald color.  Lush green mountains shrouded in mist towered over me.  I tried to make the moment last as long as possible.

After we soaked we had dinner.  My host mother is a part of the Taiwan branch of the Girl Scouts, and last weekend was their retreat in the mountains.  They had a full program that evening, including dancing, karaoke, and an auction.  Like a good sport, I sang a karaoke song with my host mother.  Warning: if you ever go to Asia, be prepared: karaoke is a staple of social life here.  I don't care how much you hate it (and I do--almost as much as Hello Kitty).  Make everyone happy and sing at least one song.

The next day my host mother and I got up early and walked around the tourist area of Wulai full of shops selling aboriginal-themed souvenirs.  It was raining pretty heavily, so it wasn't as fun as it could have been, but I got to see the waterfall up close.  That was pretty cool.

All in all, it was a eye-opening (and exhausting) weekend.  I learned to be less self-conscious about my body.  Athough my body certainly isn't perfect (legs aren't shaved, carrying more weight that I would like, etc, etc.) no one's else's body was perfect either.  99.9% of all of people there jiggled at least a little.

Who's ready for pictures?  ME!  I AM!

No, I don't have any pictures from inside the spa.  Obviously.

So the deal is that Taiwan has a lot of mountains.  Like this one.

Me and my host mother.  She was intense but awesome.

I don't know what kind of fish this is, but I've had it a lot in Taiwanese restaurants and it's good.

Flamenco dancers!  The woman on the far left had a 'tude, which made her performance HILARIOUS.

Cool-ass waterfall!  The wires are for cable cars that go all the way up the mountain.
I got to get closer to it on Sunday.

Whee!  Sadly, I did not get to ride the cable car.

A street in the tourist section in Wulai.

See you Thursday!

Marjorie

Writer-Blogger Saturdays

I've signed up for this:

and if you haven't already, you should, too.  They've already got more than 500 bloggers and are still going strong.  Official start date: April Fool's Day.  The idea is to post every day except Sundays for the month of April, for a total of 26 posts.  Every day you are expected to post something relevant to the alphabet, so on day one post something related to A, on day two B, etc., etc.,

The challenges have already begun; this week, the participants were challenged to write a press release promoting ourselves and the A-Z challenge.  I didn't do it.  I didn't think that I could, or that a newspaper would be remotely interested in my blog.

But someone got published.  Someone wrote a press released and got published in a local newspaper.  And it was a good press release, too.

I realized that not everyone was talking themselves out of their potential.

I'm making a lot of decisions this week that I'm not at liberty to discuss in a lot of detail here, but suffice it to say I'm no longer allowing circumstances to dictate what I can and cannot do, including feelings of self-doubt and insecurity.  Ever since I was a little girl my elders inundated me with the message: "Never give up on your dreams!  You do anything you set your mind to do!  You are a special little star twinkling in your own universe!"

I thought these people were at best misinformed optimists, and at worst willful half-wits.

Trust me, there are times in everyone's life when your dreams seem out of reach.  You get laid off.  Your mom gets sick.  Your childhood memories are riddled with craters of loneliness where there should have been love and support.  Your spouse/significant other/boss/friend is undermining you.  You're broke.

But as the saying goes, "Everything works out it the end.  If it hasn't worked out, then it's not the end yet."

Just because someone is out there being successful, doesn't mean you can't be successful too.

If you know you're supposed to do something, and you know it on so many levels not even Christopher Nolan could make a movie about it;

If your Golgi apparatuses are telling you you're a writer, and your mitochondria are telling you not to give up;

If your electrons are so burger flipping excited they can't sit still at the prospect of you going after what you're passionate about;

If space rocks have spelled out your destiny in the heavens;

If the writing on the wall, your palm reader, your pastor, your rabbi, your Buddhist monk, have confirmed that you're on the right path;

Then you can't give up.

You can't.

You.  Cannot.  Give.  Up.

You and your dreams are all you've got.

Don't let anyone talk you out of what you know you're supposed to do.  Don't let your bank account dictate your actions.  Don't let your fears and you past define your present course.  Yes, it's scary.  Life is often uncertain.  But you're not doing this alone.  We're all blogging and writing and dreaming and trying together.

You are mighty!  Now go and write mighty works made of mighty words.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Taiwanese Wednesday

This week has been hectic so far.  Someone seems to have pressed the fast-forward button on my life.  I'm starting research on a project I really like; I love my new Chinese teacher and classmates; new followers on this blog are trickling in; I got a summer job; my novel's trajectory is clear.  Even though I lost my Alien Resident Certificate last week after waiting for weeks to pick it up, reapplying for it has not been terribly strenuous, as my increased language skills have made life here much smoother.  All of these things, by the way, have happened within a few days of each other.

So I've been feeling a little like this:

This was taken after attempts to wake me failed.  My classmates are interesting people.

But, most of all, this place is finally starting to feel like home.

After almost seven months of culture shock, disillusionment, homesickness, loneliness, boredom, and frustration, suddenly Taiwan has become familiar to me.

And when I mean suddenly, I mean a couple weeks ago I was dragging myself up the mountain to go to class.  I bemoaned that Chinese was impossible.  I fantasized about having my bedroom back and seeing friends and family.

Now I'm running around trying to organize the last three months of my life, and it looks like I'll have just enough time to get everything done.  I'm even considering getting a research grant to come back here after I graduate.  I'm doing research in Chinese and I can read most of the characters.  All the suffering is paying off.

I'm cycling between exhaustion and contentment, and I'm grateful and honored to have you all along for the ride.

See you tomorrow!

A Word About Japan

A few of you have been asking me if I've heard about the earthquake in Japan.  (Also, thanks to those of you who've asked if I'm okay.)  I'm on this side of the world, and I'm twelve hours ahead of most of you who read this, so, yes, I have.  I've steered clear of the news this weekend because I knew it was bad, and I didn't want to focus on how bad it was.  I was in New York on 9/11, and people talking about how unthinkable it was that someone would fly planes into buildings didn't help any: nor did repeated news clips of the Towers buckling underneath plumes of smoke.  You know what helped?  People who sent their thoughts and prayers our way and found ways to actually help.  For a few brief moments, the city came together in a spirit of mutual solidarity that transcended any religious sect or political agenda.  Then the media stuck its big nose in it and we got back to our paranoid bickering.

Japan's got it way worse right now.  So instead of watching the news on the Internet and getting sucked into the morbid voyeurism, donate.  And send your thoughts and prayers.  I don't care if you're an agnostic, atheist (I won't tell if you won't), Buddhist, Muslim, Jew, Christian, or Sikh.  This is not about religion; this is about the people of Japan.  They need our help.  As much as you can spare.  Sending a little unselfish love in their direction, no matter what color, class, or creed you are is the least we can do as human beings living together in a world that can go bananas at a moment's notice.

Which brings me to another reason I'm not watching the news: the media is generally not good at representing the massive amounts of love that emerges when a disaster strikes.  For every news story about the mother who can't find her children, there are many, many more about someone who sacrificed his life for someone he/she didn't know, or someone who against all odds survived beneath the rubble while volunteers dug him/her out.  There are volunteers on the ground right now, and more on their way.  Some of their stories of courage and selflessness will pop up here and there; others won't.  But it's important to remember that while the damage seems colossal--and it is--we can either focus on how much has been lost, or we can pitch in with the ones who are actually fixing this mess.

Let's stop talking about the problem and be a part of the solution.  For Japan's sake, and for ourselves.

Writer-Blogger Thursdays

Okay, so first things first:

As I've already thanked and linked my awarders, I have to say seven things about myself and award other bloggers.  So, without further ado:

1. I'm an only child.  Either because of or as a result of this, I learned to make friends with adults than with people my own age.  It's something I'm still learning how to do.  If you consider yourself a good friend of mine, it's very likely you have at least five years on me.

2. I still like Avril Lavigne.

3. I'm messy, in both a figurative and literal sense.

4.  I am the queen of one-woman dance parties.

5. I have an obsessive habit of pacing that began when I was about eleven.  I try to channel it in a healthy way by walking on the track.  Somehow circles soothe me.

6. I do not know how to drive.  (I'm from a large city where cars are a waste of time and money.  Not my fault.)

7. I'm on a lifelong quest to find the perfect slice of pizza.  If you know any pizza places that are any good where you are, let me know.

Ten Bloggers who are Stylish:
Missing Link in Writing
The Serial Killer Files
Surrounded by Books
Cacy Duncan
An Alleged Author
iggi and gabbi
Mia Hayson
Nothing Cannot Happen Today
The Blogger Formerly Known As
My First Book


Secondly:  Writing Stuff.
So I mentioned before I'm working on a longer piece of fiction.  Last weekend I had a bit of a breakthrough.  I wrote an opening that felt different that anything I've written before.  It felt alive.  Charged.  I gave it to my mom to read, and instead of her usual, "I love to see you writing!" reaction (which she always does, no matter how awful or angst-filled), she wrote back she had to take a nap after she read it and that I had her attention from the start.  My mom has a way of being objective with both criticism and praise, and I trust her judgement when I ask her advice.  I also knew in my gut that I was onto something.  Something good.

What changed?

Stakes.  I raised them.

A lot.

Like, we're talking T-Bone.

I think my initial premise was interesting, but I was missing motivation in too many places.  I kept running into a wall--why would my protagonist choose to investigate the roots of his deceased father?  Closure?  I guess...but closure's really subjective.

I'm writing a piece about a dysfunctional family, and I placed the dead father in the center of it, which didn't really work. I then wrote a character sketch of the sister in relation to the father, which I liked better.

And then it hit me.

Put the protagonist in the center.

DUH.

After that, the stakes kind of raised themselves.

And now ENTIRE direction of my novel has changed. Roughly 6,000 words are going to be cut; I'm starting over.

But it wasn't a waste of time.  If I hadn't written those 6,000 words, I probably never would have hit this sudden point of clarity.

I've been stewing over the love interest this week, and a JUICY DELICIOUS plot point has dropped into my lap.  I can't wait to spend this weekend reconfiguring this novel and watching these characters, who are each at the end of their respective ropes, make one last mad dash for sanity, normalcy, and--if they dare hope--love.

Happy Weekend and Happy Writing!

Taiwanese Tuesday: What American Culture and American Media Taught me about China/Taiwan

1. Chinese has a completely different alphabet than English, which means the Chinese are not American, which makes them...foreign.  Even if you're living in their country and they outnumber you six billion to one.  They're still foreign.
2. China and Taiwan are totally the same place.
3. Yes, I have in fact read that Time/Forbes/Newsweek article that says the Chinese are going to take over the world one day.  IT'S ALREADY HAPPENING.  HIDE YOUR CHILDREN AND STOCK UP ON AMERICA.  IT'S OUR ONLY HOPE.
4.  There is only one reason why Chinese children are so good at math: they are little dormant robots awaiting the instructions of The Supreme Master Chairman Mao to destroy America.  I'm brushing up on my Chinapocalypse vocabulary.
5.  If you use your fingers to pull up your eyelids, you will not only succeed in blending in, you will have mastered how Taiwanese greet each other.
6. The only reason why an American girl would ever want to learn Chinese is to get a Chinese boyfriend.
7. All of the American expats in China and Taiwan know each other.  It's not just a Facebook group; we're all totes besties in real life.
8. Tiger Moms eat their young.  With chopsticks.
9. All Chinese people secretly want to be Americans.  If they're staring at you, it's because they're trying to learn how to be Americans.  It's not because you don't fit in or are screaming in English for a taco.
10. You can see Kim Jung-Il's house from The Great Wall.

So Apparently I Can Post Pictures on This Thing

DUH.
My descriptive powers are no match for the beauty of Hualien, so here you go!  Enjoy.

Look at that blue!

A really scary awesome bridge you had to get a government permit to go on because of the risks.

This was why we could go on a trail for only half an hour at a time.

I have no idea who that is.

seriously cool.

Writing and Traveling: A Match Made it Hualien

I've just returned from a three-day trip to Hualien, the east coast of Taiwan.  I wasn't planning on going, but I changed my mind at the last minute.  I was so glad I did, because it was one of the best weekends I've had since coming to Taiwan.  We visited Taroko Gorge National Park and the surrounding beaches, where I saw some of the most breathtaking scenery in my entire life.  I mean, I saw shades of blue I didn't know existed.  I also got to bond with the new CIEE students, which was really eye-opening, because my Chinese is (finally) at a level where I can appreciate more of the language's nuances.  Many of the new students are American-born Taiwanese, so we spoke Chinese almost the whole weekend, and (huzzah) my head didn't explode.  Was I proud of myself?  You bet.

I've also gotten The Stylish Blogger Award from Michael Offut and Devin Bond.  Thank you both very much!  I'm super flattered. I'm required to answer a few questions about myself and award other bloggers, which I'll do next week.  I'm a bit tired from the trip.  It's not going to be a long night.

I assigned my second post of the week to be about writing.  I've been reluctant to talk about writing-- specifically my writing--the same way I've been a reluctant blogger.  This is a bit ironic: a girl who can and does talk about anything and everything at great length is reluctant to discuss herself.  But I'm opening up more (thanks, Taiwan) and I took the time to discuss the writing process with fellow blogger Misha Gericke and the plot and characters of my newest project with a friend back home.  They've been enormously helpful with their suggestions.  Misha asked me if I'm a plotter or pantser.  When I asked her to clarify, she asked if I plan out plot points or if I write by the seat of my pants, an interesting question to be sure.  I guess I do a bit of both.  I plan and then write by the seat of my pants.

I don't write from plot.  I write from character.  Character, character, character.  I create characters, throw them into situations, and watch how they react.  I listen to their dialog.  And then I write it down.  Recently, this process has been tougher than usual, because I usually give up on my characters before I commit a word to the page.  My newest project, however, is forcing me to be both accountable to you, my readers, and develop these characters more.  In turn, they've shown me hues and shades that I didn't see before.  It happened this weekend, while I was taking in the landscape.  My characters deepened and sprouted dimensions that took me aback in a good way.

Characters should be like people: inconsistent, idiosyncratic, and surprising.  Their motivations should be clear, but how they get to what they want shouldn't be.  I believe a proper tension between motivation and character is what makes a literary work interesting.  I've got no problem with the characters. What I'm wondering is if my protagonist has enough motivating him to push the trajectory of the novel in the direction I want it to go.  And there's only one way to find out: keep writing.

See you all Tuesday.

New Sheriff In Town

So, winter finally seems to be over, new exchange students have arrived, and a new semester is just beginning.  Apologies for not posting for a while: had some loose ends (finals, visa) that needed tying up.  But!  I have decided, in the spirit of spring and renewal-ness, that I'm going to be refocusing this blog some.  When I first started blogging six months ago, I was like "eh, this isn't really my thing."  Then it was "ooh!  Lots of cool shiny blogs out there about subjects I'm interested in"!  And now, after some soul-searching, I feel ready to join the ranks of the blogosphere.  I've learned about blogging, given myself a new interface, have new followers, and have content that I can condense into something that is readable.  In other words: I AM GOING TO BLOG MY LITTLE HEART OUT LIKE I MEAN IT LOOK OUT HERE I COME.

Yes?  Yes.

Updates are now scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, unless an asteroid hits earth or I'm too tired otherwise noted.

Tuesday will be something about my life here in Taiwan.

Thursday will be something writing related.

ARE YOU READY FOR EPICNESS?  (The answer to that is yes.  Of course you are.)

See you all Tuesday!
Happy Spring!

We all need romance sometimes.

Here is a portion of the climax scene of my work in progress, in the spirit of Valentine's Day.  Whether you're single, married, divorced, dating, engaged, or recently broken up, I wish you romance and love.

I got down on my knees.  A word of advice to you guys who are proposing: when you kneel, do it slowly.  I dropped all my weight to the floor at once, and I almost busted my kneecaps.

            “You would make me the happiest man on earth if you’ll marry me,” I said.  “But if not, I will spend the rest of my life seeing to it that you’re happy.  If you need me tomorrow, next week, a year from now, ten years from now, I will be there for you.  You wanna marry someone else?  I’ll be first in line to shake that lucky bastard’s hand, right after I cut my heart out with a spoon.  Because your happiness means more to me than anything else.”

            Connie’s eyes misted over.  More people were congregating in the lobby.  They formed a half circle around us. 

            “I don’t have that much to offer you,” I went on.  “I’ve got an incredible little girl who needs a mom, and I can paint so-so. But I will spend every second of the rest of my life thinking about you and wondering if you’re okay, whether you’re in my life or not.  I’ve spent the last twenty-seven years feeling sorry for myself, and I’m not going to waste one more moment thinking about my miserable life.  My life is yours now.  You can take it or leave it, but it will always be yours.”  I took a deep breath.  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

            A few tears dripped down Connie’s nose.  She squeezed my hand.

            “For God’s sake, say yes!” an older woman cried.  I held my breath.  Everyone else seemed to be, too.

What would you say to this proposal?

I can write short posts, too.

I was feeling a bit gray today, so I decided to do the following:

-Treat myself to a French toast brunch/dinner.

-Buy something to make me smile.  I gave myself one rule:  the thing I was buying in question had to make me happy.  It didn't have to make sense or necessarily be useful.

So after eating said comforting French toast, I bought the following things:

-A purple pig lamp
-A sinister Hello Kitty pin.  (I believe this is the REAL Hello Kitty.  Why else would she have taken over East Asia if she didn't have an agenda of world domination?  My theory: she's stocking up a pile of pink missiles somewhere.  Guantanamo?)
-A Snoopy-themed hanging organizer.  I'm going to add it to the pile of crap on my bed and hope it all sorts itself out.
-A New Year's card that I am going to give to myself.  IT IS PRETTY AND HAS A GOLD FAN ON IT.
-A pair of shiny new headphones that has removable colors that I can mix and match.  Seriously, who wants to wear headphones that are the same color?  (Currently wearing silver and blue.)

It's New Year's next week (they don't call it Chinese New Year here, just New Year) and it's the Year of the Rabbit.  I'm hoping to go to the south of the island if all the train and bus tickets aren't booked (they most likely totally are) and the hotels aren't reserved up the wazoo.  I have a sneaking suspicion I'm going to hear a lot of mei you ban fa, but I'll see what I can come up with.

Happy Rabbit Year, everyone!

It's Not New Year's Until I Say It Is: Part 1

Happy New Year Everyone!

I ushered in the New Year in a Buddhist temple in the Northern End of Taipei, high above the city.  I spent the last moments of 2010 meditating, sending myself, you, and all sentient beings love and forgiveness, then went outside and watched a fireworks display from Taipei 101.  I had a great view of the skyline, and while watching explosions of colored fire scatter over the horizon, I felt a fundamental peace that I believe has sprung from practicing being in the moment.

This year is technically Year 100 because in Taiwan the calendar starts from the founding of the Republic of China after the overthrow of the Qing Dynasty in 1911.  (Quiz: what year were you born in, according to the Taiwanese calendar?)

I seem to have hit a sweet spot recently.  The same way at almost exactly two months I skidded into culture shock, at almost exactly four months (as of 12/24) I felt myself relax into my life here.  I've accepted that this is my home now, for all of its annoyances and perks.  My Mandarin has improved, which has made communicating with locals a lot easier, and the meditation practices have helped me take a step back and be more objective about situations that frustrate me.  

I'm not sure if this revelation was the cause of or facilitated by some new discoveries I made.  I've been spending more time near the boys' dorm on top of the mountain, and I found a study center with comfortable couches and a cafeteria next open late that serves my favorite Asian dish: dry noodles with vegetables and meat piled on.  In Beijing I ate a similar dish almost daily, and it is both nourishing and comforting.  In the food court section of Taipei 101, there is a stand that sells beef soup that is incredibly delicious.  The beef is tender and succulent, the broth rich enough to pass for stew.  The slippery noodles are fresh, and the bok choy crunches.  Happiness in a bowl.

It's taken me four months to find food in Taiwan that's both palatable and satisfying, but better late than never I suppose.

I've avoided blogging because I chose not to use this corner of the Internet for negativity.  Culture shock runs the gamut of emotions, not the least of which are bitterness, frustration, angst, self-pity, and depression.  These feelings, particularly self-pity, have a knack for perpetuating themselves ad nauseam.  Now that I've gotten some perspective on my feelings, though, I think it's time for me to elaborate the things I've been dealing with that used to send me spiraling into a Very Frustrating Place that required a combination of Polish vodka, deep breathing, and diaphragmatic sobbing to break me out of.

I emphasized when I began this blog that Taiwan is most absolutely and definitely not China.  I loved China--it was dirty and overcrowded and the Mandarin was sometimes usually incomprehensible, but I didn't care.  I shrugged off the merchants who shouted at me and tried to grab me, largely because the food was sumptuous.  It didn't matter if I had overpaid for a useless trinket.  I had a bowlful of noodles/dumplings/baozi* and everyone else could stuff themselves.  I never ate Western food on the Mainland.  The mere thought of New York Chinatown food made me nauseated.  In fact, when I came back from China it took me a while to acclimate to the Americanized "Chinese" takeout.

Then there were the people.  In my experience, Chinese people love to brag, tell anecdotes, and are generally friendly so it was easy to meet new people.  Sure, they were sometimes brusque...but usually something delicious to eat resulted of my interactions with them, so it was fine.  And in cities like Beijing, there is always something to do.

This lifestyle was not without its drawbacks.  Crime was pervasive; we had to sign a release form that we would never get on the back of a motorcycle.  There were no traffic lights--it was Cross At Your Own Risk.  The pollution was at times unbearable (I went to China in the summertime).  I became extremely homesick (I was fifteen).  But nonetheless, I loved just about every minute of my time there.

Fast forward five years.  Taiwan 2010.

*baozi: similar to a dumpling, baozi is a steamed bun filled with either meat or vegetables.  A particularly delicious variation of baozi is xiaolongbao, which contains hot soup inside (it's basically melted pork fat.  So.  Good.)

...Continued in It's Not New Year's Until I Say It Is: Part 2

Back from the Dark Side of...Not Blogging

Hey!

Sorry for not writing in so long.  Between Thanksgiving, the end of classes, final projects, saying goodbye (many times) to the semester CIEE students, starting a new semester, going out, running errands, and a sprinkling of medical issues have made for a very interesting--and busy--two and a half weeks.  My friends are traveling in Southeast Asia, and I have a new schedule which allows me to attend classes in the afternoon, providing me the much-needed time and space to slow down and really take things in.

I have been using the free time for reflecting and feeling.  For those of you who have had a conversation with me that has lasted longer than thirty seconds, you may have noticed I'm a bit...cerebral.  Emotions and I haven't always been on the best of terms.  I would even go so far as to say I don't like them.  At all.  They are messy and have a will of their own.  Crying?  What the hell?  I don't have time for something as banal as crying.  Don't my feelings know I am studying A Very Hard Language to become a Person who is Going Places and Making Her Way in the World?

Apparently not.

About two weeks ago I stormed into Christie's office (the director of CIEE--Taipei division) with a list of demands.  I needed help with housing.  Four people in one tiny living space was getting too much to handle, the bathrooms had long since been out of hand, and now there were rats.  Not to mention there was some kind of bureaucratic miscommunication with my winter tuition bill, and I had paid the wrong person.    Add Mandarin Chinese to this mixture.  Get a very pissed off twenty-one year old.

I had told Christie about my history of depression, but, as with most things about me that are close to the vest, I dressed it up with an anecdote and presented it with an ironic twist.  I have become quite good at this kind of disingenuous charm.  I didn't want people to think I was this vessel of melancholy petulance who spent her nights crying because she felt unloved.

Which, of course, I was.  For a long time.

The conversation quickly veered away from what I thought was going to be a "business" meeting to some of the more tender feelings that lay underneath my frustration and brusqueness (i. e. homesickness).   The next thing I knew, I was blubbering like a little girl.  In the CIEE office, of all places.

That conversation helped me pin down a specific fear: I am afraid of asking for help because I dread appearing to be incompetent to others.  She encouraged me to try to expose the emotions I was feeling to the light, because repressed feelings fester "like worms digging into the dirt", she explained.  I know this to be true from years of therapy and consulting with mental health professionals, but there is a difference between knowing something intellectually and actually being prepared to deal with it.

In my case especially, this difference is about a hemisphere wide.

Christie advised me to notice where an emotion is in my body when I feel it.  I've been taking her advice, which has forced me to slow down and pay attention to myself.  The book she loaned me--essentially a manual for feeling things--takes these guidelines further.  Does the feeling have a texture inside of you?  A color?  A shape?  One thing I have noticed is that I'm shaking a lot less, because I'm no longer forcing my feelings into a deep dark corner in my chest.  I've just been letting what rises rise, without judging anything.

Allowing my emotions to come up naturally has also opened up a Pandora's box of memories that I had stuffed away into an attic of I'm Not Going to Deal With This Ever.  But, as I've learned, pain does not kill you.  It waxes and wanes, and it's an indicator of a malady that needs attention, as with physical pain.  Good memories of myself have surfaced as well.  Memories when the world was a good place, and I was secure and happy.  One particular memory that I enjoyed was when I was about four and I was grocery shopping with my mother.  I had a pair of what I called "fireman" boots, which were black and yellow rubber boots that exactly matched the jackets of the firemen in our neighborhood.  I often saw the firemen grocery shopping, and I always made it a point to tell them that I had boots just like theirs.  And, wasn't it cool that I was grocery shopping just like them?  The fact that my mother was paying for all the food and pushing me in the grocery cart was but an insignificant detail.  I was food shopping.

And I always got M&Ms at the checkout counter.  Life was sweet (no pun intended).

This is why I've been a little out of touch.  Feeling things has been inconvenient and strange, but necessary.  My friends have also been dragging me on shopping trips and clubbing marathons to keep me from being mired in my own reveries and reflections.  And a tiny little hiccup called Advanced Chinese classes has been beckoning my attention.

So.  If you are reading this, thanks for your patience and understanding.  I told you all this wouldn't be a blog of Look At Me Eat A Piece of Exotic Food and Attempt to Speak a Foreign Language.  I'm not saying this to judge all the other travel blogs, guides, and memoirs that have this content.  I just believe in truth in advertising.


Know that I am happy and safe.  To my family back home, much love.  To my new friends in Taiwan, I look forward to spending more time together in our new home.  To my classmates who have already returned home or are returning soon, I wish you a safe trip and a restful vacation with your families.  Keep in touch.

Peace and Joy.  And a very Merry Christmas and a glorious New Year to you all.
Marjorie