poops, giggles and huh?

I was talking with Susan. Mostly talking to just hear myself talk. I was buzzed again (rum and coke) and was reminiscing about friends. I realized that I don’t have that many close friends anymore. I made some great friends in China. A big part of that reason was because I lived with so many people. I mean, we all lived in different apartments but we worked together and hung out together. I made a lot of good friends at Bob Jones. Although I might not have become such good friends with these people under normal circumstances, I was forced to get to know them and adapt to them because we all lived together. I guess this is why I don’t have any close friends here in New Jersey, other than Susan. I wish I could keep in closer contact with all those old friends that meant so much to me. But, it’s nearly impossible. We are all scattered around the globe or at the very least in different states. Maybe that’s why I want to travel and see different places so much. I think I’m afraid of growing old sooner than I expect without any good friends. It’s a lonely thought and I don’t want it to happen.

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.

I woke up today in Jersey. The air outside was thick and gray. I slept walked to my car and watched myself drive to the movie theatre parking lot. Someone else parked my car and walked to the bus stop across the street. He waited in line with the other people going to New York.

I watched as he stared straight ahead during the bus ride to the city. He seemed to be deep in thought as his legs carried him off the bus and through the bus terminal. The crowds of people surrounded him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Each person seemed hurried and unforgiving. The men handing out the free newspapers demanded that passersby take one. I watched him as he walked quietly through the crowd. His forehead was wrinkled as he tried to solve an impossible problem. The problem remained until he reached the classroom and saw his first student.

"Good morning, Jenny," he said cheerfully. The day had begun.

It’s muggy out. The window and door are open in hopes of luring a breeze into my attic apartment. Remnants of my macaroni and cheese dinner sit in the bowl and pot waiting to be scrubbed. My shirt lays in a heap beside me; long discarded in my attempts to stay cool. My tan, muscled upper body glistens with sweat as I rub lotion on my firm pecs. My abs jut out like……..uhhhhh no you did not see that. hahahaha Do you see how hot it is here??? I’m starting to write like one of those trashy grocery store checkout line novelists; the ones who go by names such as Laura Silverstein, or Barbara Sheldon but whom you know are balding, overweight men in bifocal lenses.

The whole city is swimming in sweat, it smells like. Today, I walked by a large man on the subway platform and almost doubled over in dusgust. His B.O. hit me like a sledgehammer. Maybe that naked guy at UC Berkley had a good idea. I think I’ll try it tomorrow.

I almost never look at old pictures I’ve taken. At home I have a two big storage containers full lof photos from high school, college, and China. The thing about photos is, they make me miss the people and times in them.

One of my students in New York just emailed me the picture of our class that we took on Friday. It strikes me that someday I’ll look back at this photo and think of the good times I had with that class. I may even wish to go back in time to June 2006.

After I got Fun Chun’s email, I decided to look at some of my other photos on my computer. I have a lot from Qingdao, China. 2004-2005 was a good year. There were so many things going on at that time. There were the students, friends, enemies, people that made me sick, so many people that made me happy, and the whole family feeling of Baishan School. And, there was Michelle. I still feel bad about her. The picture that I have of her shows her smiling in the bright sunlight on the soccer field. It was Korea Day at school. That’s how I always think of her too; smiling and bright like the sun. I hope she’s doing well and is happy.

I took pictures this past weekend with Susan. We went to Pennsylvania for one of her friends’ weddings. It was out in the middle of nowhere and the church and reception area were on a hill. You could see for miles around. There were very few houses and even less noise. Susan was happy to see her friends again. The friend getting married is Susan’s old roommate from college. Other than the two of us, the only other asians at the family were a filipino couple. Everyone else was a country bumpkin. Nice folks though. Susan was thrilled to hang out with her old friends and there’s a photo of her on the grass with four other girls. The sun was bright and there was a nice breeze. A perfect day for a wedding. The girls are smiling and laughing, waiting for the (in my mind) dreaded bouquet toss. Someone must have said something funny because all five girls are laughing in the picture. Susan looks pretty in her black dress and pearls.

I don’t like to look at my old pictures too often. They make me miss people and times. I think I may look back at these photos and smile though. These are good times.

College. I haven’t been here for a while. I’m here at a community college sitting outside my girlfriend’s classroom waitihg for her history class to finish. I can hear most of what her professor is saying. They’re learning about the American revolution and I hear names like Thomas Payne and Madison. It makes me wish I was still a student. I like learning new things and having my mind challenged. It makes me feel intellectual. I can hear Susan’s professor pouring his heart out trying deperately to make a connection with the students who are checking their watches and wondering what they’ll have for dinner. I want to knock on the door and tell him that at least one person is excited about the fact that the "Great Awakening" allowed people to think for themselves and challenge the religious and governmental institutions. I’m a student again and this time I’m paying attention if only for this evening outside Susan’s classroom. I always thought that education careers were for suckers. I have one now and I kind of like it. I want to be this professor and listen to him at the same time.

I step out the door of this attic/crawl space that has become my new home, for at least this next year, and see the Hudson river and the city beyond. I try to think deep and conjure up lyrics for some unwritten song. No deep thoughts come to mind except for the ones by Jack Handy.

I come back inside and try to figure out how I’m going to find another part time job so that I can survive. The part time job I have now just barely allows me to pay the rent and have a little left over for food. I light a candle on the ledge of my bedroom window hoping it’s flickering light will bring me sort of idea for my survival. Nothing. The flickering light is just a flickering light. The view of the Hudson river and New York City is just a view.

Third Eye Blind plays from my computer speakers and I sit on the floor here trying to think deep but nothing comes to mind. I wonder if I should eat dinner. I grabbed a couple White Castle burgers today on the way home from work partly because I was hungry (no breakfast or lunch) and partly because I was really curious about how they tasted. Ever since I watched Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, I’ve wanted to taste those burgers. Well, that’s one thing I don’t have to think about anymore. Meanwhile all the other worries crowd around my White Castle accomplishment.