poops, giggles and huh?

Jon gets married this weekend.

The oldest in the trio of Jon, John, and Josh leaves the single life behind. Was it really that long ago that he was staying over at my family’s house in Redding? I was so pissed when I was bent over looking for something in my closet and he came up behind me and kicked me hard in the butt. I flew forward and hit the shelf in the closet. He and my little brother snickered like idiots. His dad was coming to pick him up for baseball practice and Jon had this cool baseball uniform on. When you’re a little kid, the baseball part doesn’t matter. It’s the cool uniform that turns you green with envy.

I remember when I went to his house. We must have been a bout ten years old. Jon and his brothers had a home-made go- kart. Their next door neighbor was a spoiled, mouthy kid who mocked it. Jon offered him a ride in the go-kart. When the kid climbed into the seat, Jon pushed the top down over him and wouldn’t let him out for a while. He and I laughed about that one.

Jon, John and I used to hang out at John’s house in high school. Those two were in love with some computer game called Jet Fighter. I’d mostly sit around and pretend to be interested too. I wasn’t. It looked like a boring game to me. Jon knew that he actually wanted to fly a fighter jet in real life though. This was training to him. Now, he actually flies them.

A couple of years ago (or has it been longer than that?), the three of us were bouncing on the huge trampoline behind John’s house. We were all together for a weekend even though my family had already moved to Sacramento. John and I bounced Jon on the trampoline by standing on either side of him and jumping at the same time. Jon’s a big guy. He flew pretty high. When he came back down, his considerable weight stretched the trampoline until his butt hit the ground below. He was sore for a while and was rolling around in pain. John and I cackled like hyenas before pretending to not think it was funny and escorting Jon to the house. When he was out of ear shot, we cracked up again though.

Marriage has always seemed like something that would happen a long time from now. Even though Jon, John, and I don’t get to see each other that much anymore, they’re like my brothers. Somehow, I thought it’d always be like that. Now that he’s getting married, it’s like life is telling me, "you’re all grown up now." I miss them. I wish we could have all had one last road trip or wrestling match or basketball game before he gets married.

I’m happy for him but it’s like the door is officially closing on our childhood.

The apartment was modestly furnished. Sounds from the busy New York streets way down below drifted in through the open window. It was early in the evening and a cool breeze stirred the newspaper on the kitchen table. Benny Goodman’s latest tune played softly on the radio in the other room.

Eddie sighed as he took off his hat and then his coat and hung them on the coat rack by the door. It had been a long day and  he still had a problem left to solve; a problem with beautiful, long blonde hair and pouty red lips.

“Eddie, are you telling me that you’ve never cheated on me?”
she asked. Her eyes seemed to be pleading with him.

Eddie thought for a moment and took off his shoulder holster. “Baby, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been tempted,” he
said as sat down across from her at the little table.

 “Oh, I, I see.” She lowered her face and looked at the
table.

 He put his hand under her chin and gently lifted her face.

 “Let me put it this way, baby doll,” he said. “A man is like
a dog. A dog will hump just about any bitch in heat. A dog is like that. Just
turn a bitch in heat loose and any dog within smelling distance will run over
for a hump with his tail wagging.”

 He removed his hand from her chin to find his cigarettes. He
lit one and took a drag. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she stared at him.

 “But, baby, for this dog,” he said jabbing a thumb at his
chest. “There’s only one bitch. And that bitch is you.”

 “Oh, Eddie,” she said as she rushed around the table to sit on his lap and
threw her arms around his neck.

“I love you, Eddie! I do!”

 “I love you too, bit…..I mean, baby,” he replied.

Twas the night before Christmas and I sat in my room. Listening to Christmas music and trying to feel Christmasy. The campus is decked out in Christmas lights, people are busy shopping everywhere. More so for New Years than for Christmas but there’s definitely hustle and bustle. The school gave each of us teachers a box of oranges. It was a nice gesture. It’s a lot of oranges though. There have to be at least 50 oranges packed into that thing. I was trying to figure out what to do with all of them before they all go rotten. I’m thinking of just rolling them down the hall. I’ll stand at one end of our hall and then when someone enters our building I’ll see if I can roll the orange right at their feet. Then if the person doesn’t step on it, I’ll hide and that person will think that the orange was a Christmas miracle. Hmm Ok, well Merry Christmas to all.

Where do we fall when the rug is pulled out from under us? What is our crutch when we need help standing? Where do we hide when our cover is blown? We all have crutches and supports. No one is self sufficient in every aspect.

By nature I’m a somewhat moody person. I used to be a REALLY moody person but I like to think that I’ve matured a little bit. When I’m fine, I’m in the clouds. Angels sing to me and I’m the happiest person you’ve ever seen. When I’m down, everything falls apart. It seems that there is no good in the world. Today was kind of one of those days. I don’t know why. I just felt down. If you asked me, I wouldn’t have been able to put my finger on the cause.  I just felt depressed and all the worries and uncertainties I have started to crawl onto my back. If I had alcohol in my room, I would have drunk it.

"These kids don’t listen to you, Josh. You haven’t made a difference to them at all this year."

"Do you really think you’ll be able to make it as an editor in the States this year?"

"Maybe you should just stay in China. You don’t know what’ll happen to you back home. What if you regret it and get stuck in a job you don’t like?"

"Your brothers are so much more successful than you’ll ever be."

"Your mom and dad never made it to your graduation. Don’t you remember how much you wished they could have seen you on that day? They made it to both of your brothers’ graduations though."

"You’re going to have to move to the east coast for a job when you go back to the States. You don’t want to be there."

"You’re going to have to hang out with your girlfriend’s friends who make you feel uncomfortable."

"You really blew it back in college. Those grade of yours don’t mean a thing except that you are a failure."

"Oh yeah, and your toilet doesn’t work."

These thoughts just wouldn’t stop!It seemed that they were slowly choking me. So, I did what I usually do when I’m frustrated. I went and exercised. There’s just something about exercise that helps me think clearly. It did help. It didn’t cure me, but I did feel better. After I got back to my room, I happened to turn on a cd. The words to the song that was playing made me stop what I was doing.

"And the pain falls like a curtain
On the things I once called certain
And I have to say the words I fear the most
I just don’t know"

It felt like the song was about me. What does my future hold? What am I going to do? What should I do? But, the words I heard next really made me feel humble.

"God is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture he’s painting
God is God and I am man
So I’ll never understand it all
For only God is God."

I don’t have to understand everything. I don’t have to know everything. I don’t have to figure it all out right now. In fact, I never will know everything. I’ll never understand some things. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that someone Does understand everything and know the answers to all my problems. It matters that this someone is someone I can always rely on. It matters that this someone is God. I can always fall on Him. I can always lean on Him. I can always hide behind Him. So why didn’t I do that in the first place? It’s what I should have done. But then, I can be pretty stupid sometimes.

It’s Friday afternoon. The halls and classrooms are rapidly emptying as students and teachers rush to get to the waiting busses. The promise of a weekend away from classes, lessons, and school keeps their feet moving. I sit in the almost empty office. I have grades to enter into my computer but don’t really feel like looking at that grading spreadsheet anymore. Jay-Z blasts through my headphones.

I earned this little break. Fridays mean 5 classes to teach from 7:50 in the morning until 2:40 in the afternoon. Today, was an especially long Friday. One class was excellent, one was ok, and three were sent by the devil himself. Why is it so tough to get kids to cooperate with a teacher for 45 minutes? I try to think back to when I was in junior high but the memories are fuzzy. I try to remember why I sometimes didn’t pay attention. Everything was a distraction back then. From the guy next to me twirling his pen to the girl in front of me who might or might not have been attractive. Back then, almost any girl was at least somewhat attractive to me. The teacher was kind of an afterthought.

If I couldn’t find anything else to preoccupy my time with, I might listen to the teacher for a while. At least that’s how it was in some classes. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. That’s just how it was. I even tried to be a good student. But wow, things just kind of jumped out at me that didn’t have anything to do with what the teacher was talking about.

Hmm, my sense of sympathy starts to grow for the badly behaved students in my classes….then I remember one of them yelling at me in Chinese, "f_ _ _ your mom!"

All my sympathy disappears.

TGIF!

Everyone wants to be a part of something bigger than themselves. Everyone wants to be recognized as a part of a group. Everyone ties themselves to something and wants to be passionate about it. "Because," they reason, "how can you really feel life if your emotions aren’t involved." This is a part of being human, I think.

This is why so many people made such a big deal about the Stanley "tookie" Williams execution in California. This is why people who didn’t even know him cried when he was executed for murdering four people. As a co-founder of the Crips, we know he was undoubtedly responsible for far more than just murdering four innocent people. You don’t become the leader of a gang like the Crips by only killing four people.

Was it really the execution of, what they thought was an innocent man that moved these people to hold rallies in support of this Stanley Williams? Hardly. A blind man could see through that B.S. Innocent men, women, and children are killed in a far more brutal fashion all over the world every day. Does it move most people to tears? Nope. I admit it, I read about murders and worse in the news everyday and don’t even give it a second thought. These things don’t just happen in Africa either. They happen in our own cities, yet, because there’s no rally or candle vigil, not many people care.

Is it wrong to want to feel that you are a part of something bigger than yourself? Of course not. But why be such a dumbass as to expend energy supporting a convicted criminal when there are people worth saving all around who never get a second look by most of us?

"Damn it all!" Richard said aloud. He brought his cut finger to his mouth and sucked on it furiously. It tasted salty, but there was something comforting about sucking on a cut finger. The offensive knife lay on the counter next to the onion. Richard pulled his finger out of his mouth to see if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn’t. The blood dripped continuously.

I hate being a hemophiliac, he thought to himself. It always makes things so complicated. Richard thought for a moment, trying to remember a list of things which helped to stop bleeding. Was onion juice one of them? He couldn’t remember but he was already starting to feel woozy.

"Oh, what the hell? I’ll try it," he said. He grapped the onion and rubbed it on his wound. It stung bad. He realized that he probably had to have more of the juice on the wound. Luckily, it was a green onion. He bunched it up as tightly as he could in his right hand and squeezed with all his might. A couple drops of onion juice fell onto his waiting finger. Richard howled in pain and waited for the bleeding to stop. It didn’t. The blood continued to pool on the counter. Richard held onto the counter with his right hand to keep from falling over as he racked his brain for other things that might help.

Flour! Flour would help! It thickened when wet! He quickly found his jar of flour and buried his finger in it. He watched the flour turn red. Still the bleeding would not stop! He pulled his finger out of the jar quickly, overturning it on the counter in the process.

Perhaps boiling oil would help to cook the blood and make it solid, he hoped. He poured some oil in a pan and turned it on high. Soon the oil began to bubble. Richard looked at it fearfully. There was no turning back now. He closed his eyes and plunged the hand into the pan.

"AAAAAARGH!" he shouted as he heard and felt his whole hand sizzle.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _ _ _  _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That’s enough of that b.s., Michaels," the captain said sternly. The other cops standing around the body laughed loudly.

"Did a spaceship fly out of his butt just as he died, detective?" one of the men asked Michaels mockingly. They all laughed and moved away. That stupid rookie detective thought he knew all the answers.

In the near empty kitchen, Michaels dipped his finger into the pan of now cool oil and then pulled it out. He sniffed it. Then, he tasted it. It tasted like blood.

I laugh when I see this photo. We’re standing there with these self satisfied grins on our face because we know that we’re about to win. It was a big deal at the time…John and I on "look alike night" at AWANA. When I see this next photo, it kind of makes me sad. It’s the one where I’m sitting with my family. Dad hadn’t had his stroke for very long. It makes me sad because I don’t think I have any pictures of him or with him anytime soon before the stroke. I almost forgot what that was like.

The next one is a good one. It’s the one where Jeff, Scott, and I are standing together. We had all just been to one of those high school banquets even though we were in college. Some high school girls had asked us to go with them so we did.

Here’s a picture from last year. I miss the kids from that school in Qingdao. They were cute. I wonder if I’ll see them again. I remember how I planned to visit the university students that I taught in Guangdong. I never got to though.

Here’s a picture from this past summer with Susan. That definitely makes me happy.

All these pictures. Windows into my life. Better take a lot of them.