poops, giggles and huh?

It’s 11:23 pm. My buzz is starting to wear off. These pictures of my students and me and these pictures of me and Susan…they all crowd my screen and my brain. All that I am and all that I ever was seem rather distant at the moment. I just know that these things will never change at this particular moment in time. If I just sit here, I can relive these moments in my history.

I don’t need anything or anyone right now. The images of me walking down 5th avenue by myself for the first time and the memories of me walking down that quiet street in Beijing for the first time compete for a place in my mind. I can see my last goodbyes to my students in Qingdao. I see Laura’s broken face. I can see Maggie smiling in the office. I see Michelle crying after I got mad at her for something that wasn’t her fault.

I see a picture of me wandering through the streets of Beijing alone. It’s a big city there. The quiet that came with being alone was a welcome yet lonely experience. I see Hannah’s smile as she says, "heyyyyyy." Her friendship is comforting.

I see my dad and my mom. They’re welcoming me home after I’ve been in China for two years. My dad looks so happy to see me. I’ve missed him so much.

I see my brothers coming off the plane in Beijing to visit me. I’m so happy to see them. It’s amazing that the three of us could get together so far from home. They mean so much to me.

If I lay here, if I just lay here, if I just forget the words and look at the pictures flashing through me right now, I’m there again. It’s all here; crowded together in my picture box.

"1998 was the summer of sanctimony." This is one of the first lines of the movie I’m watching with Susan. It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon and I love it. Summer, not too unbearable this year, is turning into fall. The drive to and from church this morning was like floating through the light rain. The roads through this part of New Jersey wind through tree covered hills and I can’t wait for the leaves to change colors.

My mind, as though it had been hibernating through the warm summer, is starting to wake up. I feel like I can think more clearly now; all because of the change in weather.

The chili and chicken wings we had for lunch here at my attic-apartment tasted fresh and seemed to fit just right with the cool rain and clouds. I can’t wait for the hot chocolate I’ll soon be sipping.

"What turns good kids bad?" I asked my class this question today. They came up with a variety of answers. Almost all of them listed friends as one of their reasons. Some said stress from school caused it.

Last week I was online chatting with my younger brother. He told told me to check out a myspace homepage. It was a homepage for a guy we grew up with in Redding, California. The guy had really transformed. We all went to the same church and our parents were friends. I remember how I thought this guy was really cool. Everyone seemed to like him.

He has a picture on his page with him flipping off the camera. He writes these crappy, dark poems that have to do with hating the way he grew up. He hates Redding, his parents, the lies that the pastor told him, etc. His younger brothers have followed his lead. I saw one of his brothers’ home pages. He seems even more bitter than the older brother.

It kind of made me wonder how they got screwed up and why, if they hate everything they grew up with, they still live in the same damn little town they grew up in!

It’s a mystery, and that’s why I don’t think I want to raise any kids. I think, after I get married, we’ll probably adopt a twenty five year old with a good job.

My room is in between messy and tidy. It’s enough of both to not qualify completely for one or the other. My jeans lay on the floor under my hanging towel. My "bed", aka my sleeping bag and comforter are neatly folded and sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor. I’ve contemplated keeping my room spotless. I really enjoy it when my living space is clean and neat. But it’s just not worth the effort.

It’s funny how you get used to things. My daily commute to and from the city, New York City, used to seem exhausting and I would always fall asleep on the bus on my way home. Recently, however, I’ve discovered that I’m really not all that tired after the bus ride. In fact, I read a book to and from the city today. At this rate, I’ll be able to run a marathon in a matter of a decade if I just keep living in this area and working in the city.

On the movie "Rockstar," the band manager tells Mark Wahlberg that he was once married but that one day while he was at a bar with his wife, he had to go to the bathroom. At the urinal, as he was staring at the wall, a fear suddenly came over him. It was like he could see his whole life’s plan. It was like his life had been laid out for him. He could see the job that he would have for the rest of his life. He could see the family that he would be raising. He could see himself growing old and living out the rest of his days according to this blueprint. He got scared and walked out of the bar and never looked back.

Sometimes I feel like that. I can see the life I’ll lead and it kind of scares me. I don’t know why, but it does. It takes a certain kind of person to have a midlife crisis when he’s only 26. I guess I’m that certain kind of person.