poops, giggles and huh?

I could hear the high beeping noise that all huge dumptrucks make when they back up. Slowly, I felt the pressure build on my skull as the tires rolled onto my head inch by inch. That damn driver looked into his sideview mirror and from down here I could see his bare gums with just four fangs jutting out of them. I guess he was grinning at me. I didn’t really care; my brain was being squeezed out of my head. At this point in time, I could have been naked in front of an auditorium full of old ladies and I wouldn’t have cared. It hurt too much to care.

I tried to think of anything other than the fact that my head would pop open at any minute but couldn’t.

Then, it stopped. Relieved in a way you couldn’t possibly imagine, I looked up. Oh! He had finished backing over me, now he was shifting into 1st gear and preparing to drive over me again!

That was yesterday…all day yesterday. Today, the truck has started to run out of gas because it’s only been on my head about 15 times.

That was one hell of a headache!

The two little girls stood at the curb; waiting to cross the street. This was long enough, the little one thought as she stepped into the street. The speeding motorcycle nearly ran her over as her older sister jerked her back on the curb. Her older sister immediately began lecturing her. The little girl hung her head in shame. It was too much to bear. She had almost gotten herself killed! She started to cry. Her older sister quickly gave her a hug and said something into her ear. She slipped her fingers between her sister’s and the two walked hand in hand on down the sidewalk. All this as I munch on the last of my fries inside KFC.

It’s 6:46 am now on the day of my departure. The clock is telling me to hurry.

"You don’t have much time. Everyone will be up soon and you have to leave in two hours. Now look, that’s another minute you wasted. What if you forgot to pack something? Don’t you think you’d better check?"

Stupid clock! Just shut up!

No matter how many times I do it, I still get a little knot in my stomach before I travel any significant distance. It always feels like I’m going away never to return. It feels like that today.

Maybe it’s because I had such a good time with my family that I don’t want it to end. Maybe it’s because I realize how much older my parents are getting while I’m half way around the world for most of the year. Maybe it’s because I realize that my little cousins are growing like weeds and I can’t see it happening when I’m in China. Maybe it’s because I realize that my brothers’ lives are taking off in different directions while I’m gone. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t realized until now how fortunate/blessed I am to have my two best friends here in America. Maybe it’s because I’ll miss her and I know that long distances aren’t the best thing for a new relationship.

Whatever the reason, it’s not an easy one. So here I go. I know as soon as I get there, that it’ll be a different feeling all together. I’ll be worried about getting my tourist visa changed to a work visa, my class schedule, getting my suitcase from Qingdao and bringing it to Beijing, fitting in with my coworkers, figuring out where to get food and clothes, adjusting to the time difference and a gazillion other things.

But for now, the house is still quiet. Only the clock on the wall and the sprinklers on the front lawn are up and keeping me company.

Her hands fly around on the little counter behind the sushi bar. She looks around at the customers absently as her hands seem to create the sushi rolls on their own. A couple of her coworkers wander over to her and say something in cantonese. They all burst out laughing. A large, hispanic man at the sushi bar mutters something to his wife in Spanish. She nods and replies as she picks a few pieces of sushi and arranges them on her plate. The air in this place smells like a mixture of Chinese food, old carpet, and air freshner. Behind us, the sound of silverware and plates being washed in the kitchen mixes with the Spanish, Cantonese, and English floating around out here in the dining room. A man missing his front teeth chases his daughter around the restaurant but finally grows tired of it.
"Sarah, get over here now," he yells at her as he walks back to his table.

Uncle Swee Hin and his son are arguing about when physics books have last been changed.
"They haven’t really changed since something like 1100."

"What about the discovery of quantum physics?"

"Well that true. But quantum physics are basically a discovery within physics. The basics laws of physics have not changed."

We move on to discuss what Singapore can do to continue and revive its economy. Intelligent conversation reigns at our table. The waiters and cooks on break are sitting a few tables of away from us. Their cantonese disappoints me a little. I was hoping they’d be speaking Mandarin so I could try to catch some words I understand.

"Hey yo. Gotta try this stuff." The man says to his friend. "It’s good."

"Dogg, I ain’t really into that sushi. Don’t like seafood."

I can still catch what people are saying at the food line even while we’re discussing differences in education systems at our table.

"The world’s become a much smaller place," Uncle Swee Hin tells us boys.

Around us, I hear English, ebonics, Cantonese, and Spanish. People come to this place for the sushi.

Jon and John are coming over today! I’m pretty lucky like that. For the longest time, it was always Jon, John, and Josh. The three J’s. We grew up like that. Since the beginning of time as I’ve known it, we’ve always been friends. We went to each others houses, we played in the creek together, we argued, we all teased each other about liking this one girl that none of us actually liked, we wrestled, we shot our BB guns together… Then we grew up. John is a cop in Madera. Jon is training to be an F-16 pilot in the air force. He lives in Texas now. I’m a teacher in China trying to break into the publishing industry. We might as well be worlds apart but for the fact that our families all live within a few hours of each other. So when we’re home on vacation we still get the chance to catch up.

It was in high school. I was homeschooled. John and Jon had been homeschooled all their lives just like me.

When I was younger, homeschooling wasn’t so bad because I didn’t know any better. When I was in third or fourth grade, homeschooling was a fun thing. On Thursdays our families, sans our dads who were at work, would go to the XL Choir. It was a choir comprised of all homeschoolers. The homeschool parents had organized various activites so that we kids wouldn’t feels so isolated. It was a pretty good sized group. We’d sing…but mostly just goof off and flirt with the girls. That would make the choir director mad and she’d start yelling at us all. We’d all get quiet and pay attention for a good five minutes after that. Wash, rinse, repeat cycle for about two hours. After choir, we homeschoolers went to various places to eat lunch and regrouped at precisely one in the afternoon in front of the roller skating place. This was the highlight of our week. This was the epitome of homeschooling fun.

Of course, high school was a little different. When you’re at an age where you can’t stand to be near your parents or even acknowledge their existence, being their students and spending all day with one or both of them can be pure hell. It was also at this time that I discovered my two best friends in the world weren’t cool enough for me. I wanted to be popular. I wanted to be cool. They didn’t seem like they would help me get there. High school popularity can be a funny thing. I’d have done just about anything for it; even if that meant ditching my brothers from different mothers. I was a real jerk. Somehow, I’ve managed to hang onto them and we’re still friends.

Now, we see each other about once or twice a year and I feel lucky when we hang out.  Today is a good day.

I dribbled the ball quickly through my legs and faked to the right. He bought it and I went left. A wide open jumper. Swish! All net. I got the ball back and started from the top of the circle again. This time, he was determined not to be fooled and played defense a little further back. When I crossed to my right, he was there. When I crossed to my left and spun, he was still with me. That was it, I thought. It was time to toss in a J right in his face. So I launched myself into the air as high as I could go and released the ball right over him. *clank* I saw the ball hit the front of the rim as I came down…right onto his foot!!! OUCH!!!! I rolled my ankle and started to fall hard. I tried to break my fall with my right hand. Wrong move.

That was yesterday. Since then, my ankle has swollen rather nicely and I’ve either fractured or sprained my right wrist. Hurts like a drunk monkey!!! I have these really cool black wraps and sleeves on my wrist and ankle though and I can’t walk and can’t really do much with my right hand. I’m typing all of this with  my left hand. Dang. Anyway, I’m hungry, I think I’ll see what my left hand can fix me to eat.