Weblog
02. July 2009:
The italicized portions are from a site called "American Graduate Education: A Guide to U.S. Master's Degree Programs for International Students;" the remainder are my comments.
As you prepare to come to the U.S., it may help to know something about the values that shape U.S. Americans' attitudes and behaviors. As you consider these values it is important to remember that: 1) U.S. society is made up of a diversity of ethnic groups and cultures that have helped shape American values; 2) Some individuals and groups have a set of respected values that are quite different from those of mainstream America; 3) People's attitudes and behavior are based on their values.
That is always a good qualifier when dealing with Americans: here are the rules, but they don't apply to everybody.
Some Major U.S. American Values
Individuality: U.S. Americans are encouraged at an early age to be independent and to develop their own goals in life. They are encouraged to not depend (too much) on others including their friends, teachers and parents. They are rewarded when they try harder to reach their goals.
When I explain to Taiwanese folks that my family would never have stayed in for the weekend because I had an exam coming up at school, they think it's sad. But at the same time, I cannot figure out why it's acceptable to continue literally spoon-feeding six year-olds. I know my mom would be there for me if I ever asked her for help, but she's more likely to deliver me a verbal dressing-down if I call her up with an inflated issue. We are not expected to ask for help unless we genuinely need it, and we definitely aren't going to get it unless we ask. We are not mind-readers, people! Or so my mom has always assured me.
Also, this is perhaps why I find it not a little annoying when my Taiwanese co-workers constantly ask me what I think about whatever task is at hand, especially if they are already have an idea about how it should be completed. If it needs to be done, get it done--we don't need to talk about it that much.
Privacy: U.S. Americans like their privacy and enjoy spending time alone. Foreign visitors will find U.S. American homes and offices open, but what is inside the American mind is considered to be private. To ask the question "What is on your mind?" may be considered by some to be intrusive.
I think I get more offended when people ask me what's in my wallet. That brings me to another interesting point: Taiwan guidebooks will warn you that it is perfectly acceptable for people to ask you about your income, but if you talk to polite people here, they agree with us that it's rude. They consider it pretty low-class.
As for spending time alone, I say, "Amen!" to that. There's only one bar here that I'll go for a solitary beer, though, and even then, I have to brace myself for the fifteen-minute interrogation about the state of my psyche before they'll let me stew in my dark corner.
Equality: U.S. Americans uphold the ideal that everyone "is created equal" and has the same rights. This includes women as well as men of all ethnic and cultural groups living in the U.S. There are even laws that protect this "right to equality" in its various forms.
Yeah, there is room for lots of exceptions to this rule, and outside of America, everyone is really familiar with them. For example, nobody here was celebrating "the American sense of equality" when Obama was running for president; they all wanted to know if I thought he would get elected because white Americans "hate black people." It was really difficult and awkward for me to explain that race is a complex issue in America and we are constantly thinking and talking about it, but white Americans are not all angry, sheet-sporting racists.
The general lack of deference to people in authority is one example of equality. Titles, such as "sir" and "madam" are seldom used. Managers, directors, presidents and even university instructors are often addressed by their first or given name.
I read an interesting article about Chinese people using English names on Slate a few weeks ago. The writer observed that
"Using English names also creates a more egalitarian atmosphere. Most forms of address in China reinforce pecking orders, such as "Third Uncle" and "Second Daughter" at home or "Old Wang" or "Little Hu" in the village square. Your given name—customarily said in full, surname first—is reserved for use by those with equal or higher social standing, and the default honorific for an elder or superior is "Teacher"—no surprise in a country that reveres education. But an English name, other than separating those with and without such names, frees users from these cultural hierarchies."
Time: U.S. Americans take pride in making the best use of their time. In the business world, "time is money". Being "on time" for class, an appointment, or for dinner with your host family is important. U.S. Americans apologize if they are late. Some instructors give demerits to students who are late to class, and students at most universities have institutional permission to leave the classroom if their instructor is 10 or 15 minutes late.
This is why yours truly catches such flack for being consistently late to everything.
Informality: The U.S. American lifestyle is generally casual. You will see students going to class in shorts and t-shirts. Male instructors seldom wear a tie and some may even wear blue jeans. Female instructors often wear slacks along with comfortable walking shoes.
And we can rock a pair of jeans, too!
Greetings and farewells are usually short, informal and friendly. Students may greet each other with "hi", "how are you"? and "what's up"? The farewell can be as brief as: "See you", "take it easy", or, "come by some time" (although they generally don't really mean it). Friendships are also casual, as Americans seem to easily develop and end friendships.
Is it because we don't kiss? I have been known to sneak out of bars rather than endure an elaborate farewell ritual if I am in a foul mood. It can be agonizing to try to end the evening on "have a good one" only to find you're glued to your spot by someone who just can't stand to see you leave, stay for one more, Whatshername hasn't even left yet, it's still early...
And yes, friends do come and go. Is this an American phenomenon? Is this why I find Facebook a little creepy and sticky sometimes?
Achievement & hard work/play: The foreign visitor is often impressed at how achievement oriented Americans are and how hard they both work and play. A competitive spirit is often the motivating factor to work harder. Americans often compete with themselves as well as others. They feel good when they "beat their own record" in an athletic event or other types of competition. Americans seem to always be "on the go", because sitting quietly doing nothing seems like a waste of time.
This can be a handicap, too, as so many of us can attest. Not everything in life is a competition, and it's an asset to be able enjoy yourself without constantly comparing yourself to others. It's also important to be able to take time to reflect and even meditate. This quote from Henry Miller is relevant here: "Americans, despite their talkiness, are fundamentally silent creatures. They talk in order to conceal their innate reticence. It is only in moments of deep intimacy that they break loose."
We may talk a lot without saying anything, but there's often something inside that's worth the wait if you can get past the blustering and bullshitting. However, I do understand if you'd rather not make room for our egos.
Direct & assertive: U.S. Americans try to work out their differences face-to-face and without a mediator. They are encouraged to speak up and give their opinions. Students are often invited to challenge or disagree with certain points in the lecture. This manner of direct speaking is often interpreted by foreign visitors as rude.
And it might lead to a few punches if there's alcohol involved. I get a kick out of Taiwanese folks who cut in line at the store or cut you off in traffic, all the while pretending there is something fascinating about the toes of their shoes. If an American is going to be an asshole, he or she is going to look you in the eye. Anything less is an act of unpardonable cowardice (though I confess that might be the military streak in my family talking).
Looking to the future and to change: Children are often asked what they want to be "when they grow up"; college students are asked what they will do when they graduate; and professors plan what they will do when they retire.
And everyone wants to know what's going on this weekend.
Change is often equated with progress and holding on to traditions seems to imply old and outdated ways. Even though Americans are recycling more than before many purchased products are designed to have a short life and then be thrown away.
Again, that's something we need to work on.
Well, this has been fun and potentially interesting for some readers. I think it's good to have a solid grasp on distinguishes Americans on the deeper level of culture that is so important on the level of person-to-person interaction. I also think it's important to understand the ties that bind us all together; being so individualistic, we tend to assume that our personality traits are unique to us alone and we give very little credit to the culture that bore us.
Happy Independence Day!
Here is a picture for Moony, who requested more pictures:
Happy Independence Day: Some Insights into American Values
Living in a foreign country for the past five years (and much of my childhood) has obviously given me ample time to think about different cultures, but it's often difficult for me to explain just what it is that gives Americans their own flavor. As always, I turned to Google to find the answers to my questions. I found this page about a year ago but I still think it's very accurate and useful.The italicized portions are from a site called "American Graduate Education: A Guide to U.S. Master's Degree Programs for International Students;" the remainder are my comments.
U.S. American Culture & Values
As you prepare to come to the U.S., it may help to know something about the values that shape U.S. Americans' attitudes and behaviors. As you consider these values it is important to remember that: 1) U.S. society is made up of a diversity of ethnic groups and cultures that have helped shape American values; 2) Some individuals and groups have a set of respected values that are quite different from those of mainstream America; 3) People's attitudes and behavior are based on their values.
That is always a good qualifier when dealing with Americans: here are the rules, but they don't apply to everybody.
Some Major U.S. American Values
Individuality: U.S. Americans are encouraged at an early age to be independent and to develop their own goals in life. They are encouraged to not depend (too much) on others including their friends, teachers and parents. They are rewarded when they try harder to reach their goals.
When I explain to Taiwanese folks that my family would never have stayed in for the weekend because I had an exam coming up at school, they think it's sad. But at the same time, I cannot figure out why it's acceptable to continue literally spoon-feeding six year-olds. I know my mom would be there for me if I ever asked her for help, but she's more likely to deliver me a verbal dressing-down if I call her up with an inflated issue. We are not expected to ask for help unless we genuinely need it, and we definitely aren't going to get it unless we ask. We are not mind-readers, people! Or so my mom has always assured me.
Also, this is perhaps why I find it not a little annoying when my Taiwanese co-workers constantly ask me what I think about whatever task is at hand, especially if they are already have an idea about how it should be completed. If it needs to be done, get it done--we don't need to talk about it that much.
Privacy: U.S. Americans like their privacy and enjoy spending time alone. Foreign visitors will find U.S. American homes and offices open, but what is inside the American mind is considered to be private. To ask the question "What is on your mind?" may be considered by some to be intrusive.
I think I get more offended when people ask me what's in my wallet. That brings me to another interesting point: Taiwan guidebooks will warn you that it is perfectly acceptable for people to ask you about your income, but if you talk to polite people here, they agree with us that it's rude. They consider it pretty low-class.
As for spending time alone, I say, "Amen!" to that. There's only one bar here that I'll go for a solitary beer, though, and even then, I have to brace myself for the fifteen-minute interrogation about the state of my psyche before they'll let me stew in my dark corner.
Equality: U.S. Americans uphold the ideal that everyone "is created equal" and has the same rights. This includes women as well as men of all ethnic and cultural groups living in the U.S. There are even laws that protect this "right to equality" in its various forms.
Yeah, there is room for lots of exceptions to this rule, and outside of America, everyone is really familiar with them. For example, nobody here was celebrating "the American sense of equality" when Obama was running for president; they all wanted to know if I thought he would get elected because white Americans "hate black people." It was really difficult and awkward for me to explain that race is a complex issue in America and we are constantly thinking and talking about it, but white Americans are not all angry, sheet-sporting racists.
The general lack of deference to people in authority is one example of equality. Titles, such as "sir" and "madam" are seldom used. Managers, directors, presidents and even university instructors are often addressed by their first or given name.
I read an interesting article about Chinese people using English names on Slate a few weeks ago. The writer observed that
"Using English names also creates a more egalitarian atmosphere. Most forms of address in China reinforce pecking orders, such as "Third Uncle" and "Second Daughter" at home or "Old Wang" or "Little Hu" in the village square. Your given name—customarily said in full, surname first—is reserved for use by those with equal or higher social standing, and the default honorific for an elder or superior is "Teacher"—no surprise in a country that reveres education. But an English name, other than separating those with and without such names, frees users from these cultural hierarchies."
Time: U.S. Americans take pride in making the best use of their time. In the business world, "time is money". Being "on time" for class, an appointment, or for dinner with your host family is important. U.S. Americans apologize if they are late. Some instructors give demerits to students who are late to class, and students at most universities have institutional permission to leave the classroom if their instructor is 10 or 15 minutes late.
This is why yours truly catches such flack for being consistently late to everything.
Informality: The U.S. American lifestyle is generally casual. You will see students going to class in shorts and t-shirts. Male instructors seldom wear a tie and some may even wear blue jeans. Female instructors often wear slacks along with comfortable walking shoes.
And we can rock a pair of jeans, too!
Greetings and farewells are usually short, informal and friendly. Students may greet each other with "hi", "how are you"? and "what's up"? The farewell can be as brief as: "See you", "take it easy", or, "come by some time" (although they generally don't really mean it). Friendships are also casual, as Americans seem to easily develop and end friendships.
Is it because we don't kiss? I have been known to sneak out of bars rather than endure an elaborate farewell ritual if I am in a foul mood. It can be agonizing to try to end the evening on "have a good one" only to find you're glued to your spot by someone who just can't stand to see you leave, stay for one more, Whatshername hasn't even left yet, it's still early...
And yes, friends do come and go. Is this an American phenomenon? Is this why I find Facebook a little creepy and sticky sometimes?
Achievement & hard work/play: The foreign visitor is often impressed at how achievement oriented Americans are and how hard they both work and play. A competitive spirit is often the motivating factor to work harder. Americans often compete with themselves as well as others. They feel good when they "beat their own record" in an athletic event or other types of competition. Americans seem to always be "on the go", because sitting quietly doing nothing seems like a waste of time.
This can be a handicap, too, as so many of us can attest. Not everything in life is a competition, and it's an asset to be able enjoy yourself without constantly comparing yourself to others. It's also important to be able to take time to reflect and even meditate. This quote from Henry Miller is relevant here: "Americans, despite their talkiness, are fundamentally silent creatures. They talk in order to conceal their innate reticence. It is only in moments of deep intimacy that they break loose."
We may talk a lot without saying anything, but there's often something inside that's worth the wait if you can get past the blustering and bullshitting. However, I do understand if you'd rather not make room for our egos.
Direct & assertive: U.S. Americans try to work out their differences face-to-face and without a mediator. They are encouraged to speak up and give their opinions. Students are often invited to challenge or disagree with certain points in the lecture. This manner of direct speaking is often interpreted by foreign visitors as rude.
And it might lead to a few punches if there's alcohol involved. I get a kick out of Taiwanese folks who cut in line at the store or cut you off in traffic, all the while pretending there is something fascinating about the toes of their shoes. If an American is going to be an asshole, he or she is going to look you in the eye. Anything less is an act of unpardonable cowardice (though I confess that might be the military streak in my family talking).
Looking to the future and to change: Children are often asked what they want to be "when they grow up"; college students are asked what they will do when they graduate; and professors plan what they will do when they retire.
And everyone wants to know what's going on this weekend.
Change is often equated with progress and holding on to traditions seems to imply old and outdated ways. Even though Americans are recycling more than before many purchased products are designed to have a short life and then be thrown away.
Again, that's something we need to work on.
Well, this has been fun and potentially interesting for some readers. I think it's good to have a solid grasp on distinguishes Americans on the deeper level of culture that is so important on the level of person-to-person interaction. I also think it's important to understand the ties that bind us all together; being so individualistic, we tend to assume that our personality traits are unique to us alone and we give very little credit to the culture that bore us.
Happy Independence Day!
Here is a picture for Moony, who requested more pictures:
19. June 2009:
I was driving home from work today and turned down a road I don't usually take, and there was the sun, dead ahead of me, sliding down between the buildings. It was gigantic, warm and orange; it didn't sting my eyes at all. It was awesome, but it wasn't the first time I'd seen it. I remember it from last year when I was out with a buddy looking for a vegetarian hotpot restaurant. I wondered why I hadn't seen it since then and it occurred to me that it must only set just so at just that hour during the summer. A year since I had seen it, and how much things have changed in a year!
I love the summer and knowing that it's here. As soon as I saw that sun, I was so lost in that memory of driving around with my friend that I forgot what day of the week it was. When I remembered it was Friday night, I was euphorically happy knowing that I have two full days to myself. Summer means I can do anything I want and go anywhere I want. I'll wear tank tops and flip flops and keep my hair up in a ponytail. I'll start to sweat as soon as I walk out of my house, but I'll hop on my scooter and when I pull back the throttle, a cool, invigorating breeze will find it's way between me and my clothes. I'll purr and I'll drive and I'll know I can go anywhere I want. Maybe I'll just stay home, reading, cleaning and taking cat naps because it's my day and no one has a hold on me.
It's the most wonderful time of the year...
Summer
I had been on a streak, updating almost daily for a week or two, and then I got some terrible news from back home. After that, it didn't seem like there was anything I could write about that wasn't hopelessly trivial. It's not that I've past that point, it's just that there's life to be lived and all I can do is pour a beer out on the ground in memory of other times and other places.I was driving home from work today and turned down a road I don't usually take, and there was the sun, dead ahead of me, sliding down between the buildings. It was gigantic, warm and orange; it didn't sting my eyes at all. It was awesome, but it wasn't the first time I'd seen it. I remember it from last year when I was out with a buddy looking for a vegetarian hotpot restaurant. I wondered why I hadn't seen it since then and it occurred to me that it must only set just so at just that hour during the summer. A year since I had seen it, and how much things have changed in a year!
I love the summer and knowing that it's here. As soon as I saw that sun, I was so lost in that memory of driving around with my friend that I forgot what day of the week it was. When I remembered it was Friday night, I was euphorically happy knowing that I have two full days to myself. Summer means I can do anything I want and go anywhere I want. I'll wear tank tops and flip flops and keep my hair up in a ponytail. I'll start to sweat as soon as I walk out of my house, but I'll hop on my scooter and when I pull back the throttle, a cool, invigorating breeze will find it's way between me and my clothes. I'll purr and I'll drive and I'll know I can go anywhere I want. Maybe I'll just stay home, reading, cleaning and taking cat naps because it's my day and no one has a hold on me.
It's the most wonderful time of the year...
05. June 2009:
This is not my spider. I just found this video on youtube.
This little creature in my bathroom was about to crawl out of her skin. That's obviously "neat," or interesting, but I found it wicked fascinating. I kept imagining people I know, while I was just sitting next to them on the couch, peeling off their out layer without a tear and dropping it like an old bag on the floor. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
The more I think about, the more appealing it seems. Sure, I know have to dispose of the crusty outer shell of a spider which is almost horrifying to look at given my history of arachnophobia and my disgust with material expelled by any natural entity (nail clippings, stray hairs, boogers, poop, egg shells, etc.), but as far as a spider can be, Carnage is beautiful. She's radiant. Her new self is a soft gray and her pink patches are vibrantly pink. The first day, she just sat on her silk bed and rubbed herself, working out all the kinks. I wonder if she was itchy? I imagine growing a new, hairy self just inside your former hairy self would be very itchy. But wouldn't it be nice to peel it all off? There go the zits, the stray hairs, that scraped knee, and there you are, perfect and beautiful and ready to face the world anew. It's fascinating; a living metaphor for what we all wish we could do sometimes. I am still not going to handle her--I doubt she would even want me to--but I have a new respect for her.
my kind of gal
So when Beau left he left his pet tarantula in a small tank in my bathroom. I was terrified of spiders growing up, and now I am just a little repulsed by them. "Carnage" just needs water now and then a few crickets every week or two, though, so we get along fine. Or we did, until I came home the other night and she was flipped over on her back. I panicked for a moment and googled "my tarantula is dying." Luckily, I found tons of sites reassuring me that she was just getting ready to molt. I was reassured until I watched a video of a tarantula molting then I was far more grossed out than I have been in a while, and I devote a lot of time to telling little kids to stop picking their nose.This is not my spider. I just found this video on youtube.
This little creature in my bathroom was about to crawl out of her skin. That's obviously "neat," or interesting, but I found it wicked fascinating. I kept imagining people I know, while I was just sitting next to them on the couch, peeling off their out layer without a tear and dropping it like an old bag on the floor. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
The more I think about, the more appealing it seems. Sure, I know have to dispose of the crusty outer shell of a spider which is almost horrifying to look at given my history of arachnophobia and my disgust with material expelled by any natural entity (nail clippings, stray hairs, boogers, poop, egg shells, etc.), but as far as a spider can be, Carnage is beautiful. She's radiant. Her new self is a soft gray and her pink patches are vibrantly pink. The first day, she just sat on her silk bed and rubbed herself, working out all the kinks. I wonder if she was itchy? I imagine growing a new, hairy self just inside your former hairy self would be very itchy. But wouldn't it be nice to peel it all off? There go the zits, the stray hairs, that scraped knee, and there you are, perfect and beautiful and ready to face the world anew. It's fascinating; a living metaphor for what we all wish we could do sometimes. I am still not going to handle her--I doubt she would even want me to--but I have a new respect for her.
04. June 2009:
A woman I knew my first year here once talked about getting used to the experience of being a "cultural celebrity." I had never heard the term before but it made sense. Foreigners get stared at, occasionally accosted, sometimes even trapped in window seats on buses and trains by random strangers. Unless you're an attractive person getting hit on, that doesn't happen as much in your own country. I wondered what it was that had drawn me overseas yet again after five years in the American suburbs, but I figured that deep down, I must just like the attention.
Naipaul's observation about an American lawyer in the Ivory Coast says that and more. The attention foreigners get living in a homogeneous society appeals to more than our vanity. It might actually indicate our reliance on a psychological crutch. As long as we stand out, as long as we receive regular, daily doses of attention from other people, our existence is confirmed. As long as its so easy to see ourselves as different from the local population and not bound by its expectations and limits, we are free to be whoever we want to be. We can constantly create our own identities, an opportunity which is always both exciting and frightening. Naipaul later writes, "The young American lawyer didn't try to define the glamour of the life. But I thought it would be something like this: being in Africa, being a non-African about Africans. Discomfort and danger would add to the sense of the self, the daily sense of personal drama, which a man living safely at home might never know." This strikes me as a very accurate observation, but perhaps particular to the experience of being a foreigner that is also racially distinct from the local population. For instance, I am fairly confident that I would not feel as affirmed in western Europe.
This serves as a good response to a friend of mine who once had the gall and the good sense to point out that "to hear you languish in the throes of foreign domesticity is quite frightening. And furthermore, it would appear that embracing that same domesticity in the U.S. is passé and a copout becuase at least 75% of the people you pass on the street are speaking English. Make no mistake, settling in America is the same as settling in Taiwan or Singapore or Hong Kong or the goddamn Moon." Yes, but I would actually have to make an effort to distinguish myself. I would actually have to have a job instead of an adventure. I would be ordering lunch and not sampling the local cuisine. I would be driving and not exploring. I would be talking to people at the bar and not immersing myself in a foreign culture.
It's pretty weak to scratch the surface of my love of being an expatriate and find out I don't want to be normal--I want to be noticed and I want my life to be more dramatic. It makes sense, so it can't be dismissed simply because it's unpleasant. However, contemplating that interpretation doesn't motivate me to return to the U.S., especially with the economy taking such a turn for the worse. Ultimately, it's just another psychological pitfall that ought to be avoided.
on being an expat
I just finished reading V.S. Naipaul's essay, "The Crocodiles of Yamoussoukro" in his book, Finding the Center. I was interested in reading it because it was about the Ivory Coast, one the places I lived when I was younger. It was also about Africa, a place to which I have always wanted to return; and it was about being an expatriate, which of course is of particular interest to me. He dropped one of the most insightful ideas I have ever heard about being an expatriate: "But his acceptance [of African ways] went with a correct distancing of himself from the continent and its people. And for him that perhaps was the charm of the expatriate life: the heightened sense of self that Africa gave [italics mine]." I only regret that he seems to limit the experience of this "charm," this "heightened sense of self," to being an expatriate in Africa. I had never thought deeply about being an expat, but Naipaul's phrase has been resonating in my brain all day. Growing up, I alternated between living in the U.S. and overseas until I no longer felt completely at home in the U.S. This is what it means to be a "third-culture kid," someone who knows she doesn't fit in when she's living abroad but is also uncomfortable being submerged in her "home" country. There's a whole book on it; I read it when I was in college. At that time, it was simply obvious to me that I had missed out on too much of the experience of growing up in the States to feel completely at one with my more conventionally American peers, but I had never felt like I blended in anywhere else we had lived. I decided I liked being around expats, and my thoughts on the subject never progressed.A woman I knew my first year here once talked about getting used to the experience of being a "cultural celebrity." I had never heard the term before but it made sense. Foreigners get stared at, occasionally accosted, sometimes even trapped in window seats on buses and trains by random strangers. Unless you're an attractive person getting hit on, that doesn't happen as much in your own country. I wondered what it was that had drawn me overseas yet again after five years in the American suburbs, but I figured that deep down, I must just like the attention.
Naipaul's observation about an American lawyer in the Ivory Coast says that and more. The attention foreigners get living in a homogeneous society appeals to more than our vanity. It might actually indicate our reliance on a psychological crutch. As long as we stand out, as long as we receive regular, daily doses of attention from other people, our existence is confirmed. As long as its so easy to see ourselves as different from the local population and not bound by its expectations and limits, we are free to be whoever we want to be. We can constantly create our own identities, an opportunity which is always both exciting and frightening. Naipaul later writes, "The young American lawyer didn't try to define the glamour of the life. But I thought it would be something like this: being in Africa, being a non-African about Africans. Discomfort and danger would add to the sense of the self, the daily sense of personal drama, which a man living safely at home might never know." This strikes me as a very accurate observation, but perhaps particular to the experience of being a foreigner that is also racially distinct from the local population. For instance, I am fairly confident that I would not feel as affirmed in western Europe.
This serves as a good response to a friend of mine who once had the gall and the good sense to point out that "to hear you languish in the throes of foreign domesticity is quite frightening. And furthermore, it would appear that embracing that same domesticity in the U.S. is passé and a copout becuase at least 75% of the people you pass on the street are speaking English. Make no mistake, settling in America is the same as settling in Taiwan or Singapore or Hong Kong or the goddamn Moon." Yes, but I would actually have to make an effort to distinguish myself. I would actually have to have a job instead of an adventure. I would be ordering lunch and not sampling the local cuisine. I would be driving and not exploring. I would be talking to people at the bar and not immersing myself in a foreign culture.
It's pretty weak to scratch the surface of my love of being an expatriate and find out I don't want to be normal--I want to be noticed and I want my life to be more dramatic. It makes sense, so it can't be dismissed simply because it's unpleasant. However, contemplating that interpretation doesn't motivate me to return to the U.S., especially with the economy taking such a turn for the worse. Ultimately, it's just another psychological pitfall that ought to be avoided.
03. June 2009:
jie jie
There are some high school girls coming to our school each day to learn about teaching and lend a hand where they can. The girl that is helping out in Mel's class is an adorable little thing of about 15 with big eyes and a clueless smile. Every time she sees me, she chirps "Movie star!" in a squeaky voice and giggles. We haven't been able to get much more out of her. I just smile and go about my business. It's a little odd and inexplicable.
02. June 2009:
I still had forty-five minutes of class left when she decided to throw me this little bone, so I wandered back with ideas buzzing but none that wouldn't require more preparation than I could do in the three yards between the front office and my classroom. We got off to a slow start brainstorming things that they would be interested in studying: I am not doing an entire lesson on sleeping and/or Counter-Strike Online. I asked them to come up with some questions for each other, which they did, and that reminded me of some personality quizzes we used to give our friends when I was young. I asked them what they thought about being lost in the forest or their feelings about the ocean. These questions supposedly give some insight into how one feels about life and love. They were absolutely hooked.
It occurred to me that adolescence is in part so uncomfortable because that's when we are just forming our individual identities. Personality quizzes, horoscopes, and any form of fortune-telling are fascinating to 12 and 13 year-olds because they offer some easy answers to the important questions they are asking themselves about who they are and who they want to be. Within a few minutes, I had a roaring conversation going like we hadn't enjoyed in weeks and I had to remind them it was time to go home. After class, I searched online and found a few more potentially useful quizzes, and I am going to have to spend some time getting together material for a few lessons on the Western horoscope, but it looks good. I think I may have won them back!
tweens!
I just had a revelation today, and for once it was totally practical. I have been teaching the same buxiban class for two years, and now I am watching these perky little pre-pubescents descend in the disgruntled quagmires of adolescence. I used to praise them for being such a nice, diligent group of students, always prepared, always with their homework ready, and now when I ask them to turn in their assignments I get blank, impenetrable stares and shrugging shoulders. It's frustrating, to say the least, especially as I know my relationship with them is nearing its end. It doesn't help that the textbook we are using is a giant leap from the last one and must have been written in about five minutes without due editing. What group of twelve year-olds wants to read about writing resumes and conducting job searches online? My manager finally gave me a break today when I confessed I was at my wits end with them and out of ideas as to how to inspire them to take an interest in memorizing the extensive vocabulary lists (we apparently are not interested in any games that require us to get out of our seats or even take our eyes off our shoes). She told me just to drop the textbook for the rest of the semester and provide them with interesting course material for a conversation class.I still had forty-five minutes of class left when she decided to throw me this little bone, so I wandered back with ideas buzzing but none that wouldn't require more preparation than I could do in the three yards between the front office and my classroom. We got off to a slow start brainstorming things that they would be interested in studying: I am not doing an entire lesson on sleeping and/or Counter-Strike Online. I asked them to come up with some questions for each other, which they did, and that reminded me of some personality quizzes we used to give our friends when I was young. I asked them what they thought about being lost in the forest or their feelings about the ocean. These questions supposedly give some insight into how one feels about life and love. They were absolutely hooked.
It occurred to me that adolescence is in part so uncomfortable because that's when we are just forming our individual identities. Personality quizzes, horoscopes, and any form of fortune-telling are fascinating to 12 and 13 year-olds because they offer some easy answers to the important questions they are asking themselves about who they are and who they want to be. Within a few minutes, I had a roaring conversation going like we hadn't enjoyed in weeks and I had to remind them it was time to go home. After class, I searched online and found a few more potentially useful quizzes, and I am going to have to spend some time getting together material for a few lessons on the Western horoscope, but it looks good. I think I may have won them back!
01. June 2009:
I was all ready to go by 2:15 on Thursday, and as I had intended to be ready by 2:00, I was pretty pleased with myself. But when I stretched out my map across the dining room table at 2:15, I realized I was going to have some technical difficulties. I called up the most capable man I could and waited 45 minutes for him to show up with his insight and a cold can of Coke. I left by 4:00 and after getting turned around in every town between here and the mountains, which I already anticipated, I was there by 7:00. I ought to learn how to ride a motorcycle if and when I return to the U.S. because if driving a scooter down a winding mountain road is at all comparable, I am sure that riding a more powerful and substantial bike would be ecstasy. I couldn't help but shout and squeal sometimes as I glided up the mountain. You couldn't have sold me a car even if I were sitting on a pile of money.
The temple was beautiful but the rooms were just clean and sparse. The balcony offered a fantastic view of the mountains, though, so I just enjoyed the space for what it was: a quiet place to be alone. I set right into ready V.S. Naipaul's Finding the Center as soon as I got comfortable and was surprised to realize that in my hurry to pack I had included two books by prominent authors detailing the beginning of their writing careers. I tried to get to bed early but the hard bed, firm pillow, and eerie quietude of the place kept me up. I'm used to falling asleep with to the buzz of the computer and the air conditioner, as well as an episode of a sitcom on low volume for the first twenty minutes. All I could hear there were the muffled sounds of slumber coming from the next room and the crickets pulsating outside. I woke up at 5am with the sun and when my alarm went off at 6:30 I was dizzy and uncomfortably fatigued. I made it upstairs for the vegetarian breakfast offerings but I was already feeling a little ill, so the boiled rice gruel, oily tofu and vegetables were worse than unappealing. I spent the rest of my time there dodging the proprietor's invitations to eat with everyone else. I drove down to the nearest town for a Mr. Brown coffee and when I came back I decided to put off the day's intended hike for a few hours while I took a nap. After the coffee though, I could barely sleep and hypnagogic hallucinations alternately frightened and roused me. I gave up after a few hours and decided to hit the trails.
Having only seen the temple in the lonely hours of the evening or the early morning, I was surprised by the crowds now milling about. They were equally surprised by a lone Western woman wandering around trying to make out the Chinese signs marking the path. I made it halfway down the longest trail but the rest of the temples proved to be disappointing--modern and dull. The trail itself was actually just a narrow, paved mountain road and the number of other folks--largely families--meandering along the path was distracting. I turned back and started in on Henry Miller's Sexus. Pornographic, yes, but as always I caught the gust of his exploration of meaning, humanity, and the universe and was lifted far and away for a few hours. I did a lot of writing in my journal but didn't attempt anything more substantial. Afterward I had a disappointing dinner at the restaurant next to the temple. It's been my experience that it's impossible to find a nice, hearty Chinese meal at any of these scenic areas. Most of the restaurants call themselves cafes and serve overpriced coffee and tea and faux Western food that is beautifully presented but barely palatable. Good gungpao chicken is severely underrated by the locals here.
I got to bed earlier the second night with a little less trouble. I woke up early, went into town for another coffee, and made it back up the visitor's center at the other end of the trail by 8:00. I had to go back over some of the path that Mel and I had already covered the previous weekend, but it was such a beautiful trail, so quiet and cool at that hour, that nothing was lost by doing it all over again. I made my way to "Seven-Star Tree" I had as my goal for the morning within forty-five minutes. I took a few pictures as proof of reaching my goal and returned just as hordes of families and their frolicking offspring were making it up the hill. I walked another length of the trail but turned back before seeing the "Shueilian Cave" when I heard a tour bus full of people cackling and squawking ahead of me. It didn't seem worth the thousand and one perfunctory head-nods and smiles I would have to exchange with all the passengers.
I somehow found my way onto a wicked back road to the lake I was trying to find to fulfill the mornings goals. It was tiny, twisted, and completely lonesome. I stopped every few hundred yards to take some pictures of the fields and houses; it struck me that I could almost just as well have been in sub-Saharan Africa as western Taiwan with the shacks and ill-maintained roads. I got lost on the way to the lake when the signage ran out; I eventually found it but couldn't find the path around it, and then I got hungry so I went back to the hotel. I had been ruminating on strawberry waffles all morning, but after a shower I got so engrossed in Sexus that I lost track of time and by the time I went to get something more substantial from the 7-11 and returned, the cafe had closed and I had missed my dessert. I consoled myself by finishing the book, journaling, and finally working on really writing a few pieces, following a version of Anne Lamott's advice in Bird by Bird and just writing some childhood memories from start to finish. So now I have a chronology of all the backyards my family inhabited throughout my childhood years. I suppose there are lots of ways to branch out from there, but there it is for now.
I slept yet more peacefully the third night, woke up early and found an isolated corner of the actual temple grounds to write. As expected, the other visitors started trickling in around 8:00 and before it was quite 9:00 I was being hounded by stares and comments from every passer-by, so I packed it up and headed back home.
Lion's Head Mountain
That last blog was supposed to include some specifics of my trip to Lion's Head Mountain, but I got a bit carried away so I decided to make separate posts.I was all ready to go by 2:15 on Thursday, and as I had intended to be ready by 2:00, I was pretty pleased with myself. But when I stretched out my map across the dining room table at 2:15, I realized I was going to have some technical difficulties. I called up the most capable man I could and waited 45 minutes for him to show up with his insight and a cold can of Coke. I left by 4:00 and after getting turned around in every town between here and the mountains, which I already anticipated, I was there by 7:00. I ought to learn how to ride a motorcycle if and when I return to the U.S. because if driving a scooter down a winding mountain road is at all comparable, I am sure that riding a more powerful and substantial bike would be ecstasy. I couldn't help but shout and squeal sometimes as I glided up the mountain. You couldn't have sold me a car even if I were sitting on a pile of money.
The temple was beautiful but the rooms were just clean and sparse. The balcony offered a fantastic view of the mountains, though, so I just enjoyed the space for what it was: a quiet place to be alone. I set right into ready V.S. Naipaul's Finding the Center as soon as I got comfortable and was surprised to realize that in my hurry to pack I had included two books by prominent authors detailing the beginning of their writing careers. I tried to get to bed early but the hard bed, firm pillow, and eerie quietude of the place kept me up. I'm used to falling asleep with to the buzz of the computer and the air conditioner, as well as an episode of a sitcom on low volume for the first twenty minutes. All I could hear there were the muffled sounds of slumber coming from the next room and the crickets pulsating outside. I woke up at 5am with the sun and when my alarm went off at 6:30 I was dizzy and uncomfortably fatigued. I made it upstairs for the vegetarian breakfast offerings but I was already feeling a little ill, so the boiled rice gruel, oily tofu and vegetables were worse than unappealing. I spent the rest of my time there dodging the proprietor's invitations to eat with everyone else. I drove down to the nearest town for a Mr. Brown coffee and when I came back I decided to put off the day's intended hike for a few hours while I took a nap. After the coffee though, I could barely sleep and hypnagogic hallucinations alternately frightened and roused me. I gave up after a few hours and decided to hit the trails.
Having only seen the temple in the lonely hours of the evening or the early morning, I was surprised by the crowds now milling about. They were equally surprised by a lone Western woman wandering around trying to make out the Chinese signs marking the path. I made it halfway down the longest trail but the rest of the temples proved to be disappointing--modern and dull. The trail itself was actually just a narrow, paved mountain road and the number of other folks--largely families--meandering along the path was distracting. I turned back and started in on Henry Miller's Sexus. Pornographic, yes, but as always I caught the gust of his exploration of meaning, humanity, and the universe and was lifted far and away for a few hours. I did a lot of writing in my journal but didn't attempt anything more substantial. Afterward I had a disappointing dinner at the restaurant next to the temple. It's been my experience that it's impossible to find a nice, hearty Chinese meal at any of these scenic areas. Most of the restaurants call themselves cafes and serve overpriced coffee and tea and faux Western food that is beautifully presented but barely palatable. Good gungpao chicken is severely underrated by the locals here.
I got to bed earlier the second night with a little less trouble. I woke up early, went into town for another coffee, and made it back up the visitor's center at the other end of the trail by 8:00. I had to go back over some of the path that Mel and I had already covered the previous weekend, but it was such a beautiful trail, so quiet and cool at that hour, that nothing was lost by doing it all over again. I made my way to "Seven-Star Tree" I had as my goal for the morning within forty-five minutes. I took a few pictures as proof of reaching my goal and returned just as hordes of families and their frolicking offspring were making it up the hill. I walked another length of the trail but turned back before seeing the "Shueilian Cave" when I heard a tour bus full of people cackling and squawking ahead of me. It didn't seem worth the thousand and one perfunctory head-nods and smiles I would have to exchange with all the passengers.
I somehow found my way onto a wicked back road to the lake I was trying to find to fulfill the mornings goals. It was tiny, twisted, and completely lonesome. I stopped every few hundred yards to take some pictures of the fields and houses; it struck me that I could almost just as well have been in sub-Saharan Africa as western Taiwan with the shacks and ill-maintained roads. I got lost on the way to the lake when the signage ran out; I eventually found it but couldn't find the path around it, and then I got hungry so I went back to the hotel. I had been ruminating on strawberry waffles all morning, but after a shower I got so engrossed in Sexus that I lost track of time and by the time I went to get something more substantial from the 7-11 and returned, the cafe had closed and I had missed my dessert. I consoled myself by finishing the book, journaling, and finally working on really writing a few pieces, following a version of Anne Lamott's advice in Bird by Bird and just writing some childhood memories from start to finish. So now I have a chronology of all the backyards my family inhabited throughout my childhood years. I suppose there are lots of ways to branch out from there, but there it is for now.
I slept yet more peacefully the third night, woke up early and found an isolated corner of the actual temple grounds to write. As expected, the other visitors started trickling in around 8:00 and before it was quite 9:00 I was being hounded by stares and comments from every passer-by, so I packed it up and headed back home.
01. June 2009:
I have never felt such a powerful urge to be by myself as I have of late. I've never felt such a hunger that can be enjoyed as a lack and doesn't need satisfaction to be pleasurable. It's like a barometer for my brain, and all must be well if I would truly rather be doing the things I would rather be doing--reading, writing, thinking, studying--and not half-heartedly socializing out of a misplaced sense of obligation.
It felt incredibly good to be alone for all the selfish reasons--I could sleep when I wanted to sleep, wake up when I wanted to wake up, eat whatever I wanted to eat, go wherever I wanted to go and turn around whenever I'd had enough. I don't know anyone that is down for a twenty minute cruise to 7-11 at 6:30 in the morning to sit on the pavement and have a room temperature can of coffee and an English muffin sandwich fresh out of the microwave before a day of hiking, but I'm easy like that. I tend to get pretty gritty when I travel alone and I wouldn't want to start raising the bar now. I know what I want out of a trip--the sensation of a fast ride on a winding road, the freedom to light a cigarette and read books in my underwear, the receptivity to eat either a good plate of spaghetti or an agreeable tub of instant noodles. I mostly just don't want to be bothered. And because so many of the things I truly enjoy doing exclude any one else from participating, it allays any guilt I feel at not meeting my responsibilities to other people who are sharing my time and space.
There are a lot of other reasons to enjoy being alone, too. Left to your own devices, you learn about yourself more quickly than when you are constantly negotiating your role with other people in other relationships. That much is obvious. You also find out how much you have in your head to entertain yourself--that can be a frightening discovery if you find out that there isn't a lot of kindle up there that doesn't require someone else to ignite it. There's this really lovely thought expressed in a book I read a while back called Intimacy and Solitude--why do we assume that strangers' thoughts would be more interesting than our own? Yet so many of us trek to the dark bars night after night because we'd rather be entertained and distracted by strangers than be left alone with our own selves.
There is a frightening gap between feeling lonely and enjoying solitude, however. For me, it's always easy to enjoy solitude when I feel like I am pursuing it, knowing that as soon as I am ready to enjoy the company of my friends the invitation is open to me. It's much harder to remember that being alone can be enjoyable and useful during those dark times when there are no friends or invitations in sight. To be honest, I think the sparse relationships I had in high school and even throughout my college years geared me toward pursuing relationships--no matter how superficial--for the past few years only for me to finally realize through my own experience that it is more worthwhile to have a few quality friends than to make sure you are invited to everyone's birthday party.
The barrier to enjoying solitude that most confounds me is not enjoying any solitary activities; specifically not reading. What the hell do people who don't read do while on the train? On the toilet? In a waiting room? How can you just not read? I find it baffling. If I find myself with more than a couple of idle minutes on my hand and no literature within reach, I feel anxious. Of course I can spend time thinking or writing. I get immense pleasure from both of these activities. But to just not read, to blow off a suggestion of a book not only because you aren't interested in that book but because you just don't read books--that is baffling to me. I don't think you're a bad person, I won't pull a face at you if I find out you don't read, but I will probably assume that you just haven't found your genre and I will continue suggesting books to you, and when I am alone I will furrow and raise my eyebrows whenever I think about you and your not reading.
We had four days off for Dragon Boat Festival. I spent the four days/three nights at the hotel (Lion Mountain Building) at the Chuanhua Tang temple on Lion's Head Mountain. It was an excellent vacation and as I was alone, I was in the best of company.
I have never felt such a powerful urge to be by myself as I have of late. I've never felt such a hunger that can be enjoyed as a lack and doesn't need satisfaction to be pleasurable. It's like a barometer for my brain, and all must be well if I would truly rather be doing the things I would rather be doing--reading, writing, thinking, studying--and not half-heartedly socializing out of a misplaced sense of obligation.
It felt incredibly good to be alone for all the selfish reasons--I could sleep when I wanted to sleep, wake up when I wanted to wake up, eat whatever I wanted to eat, go wherever I wanted to go and turn around whenever I'd had enough. I don't know anyone that is down for a twenty minute cruise to 7-11 at 6:30 in the morning to sit on the pavement and have a room temperature can of coffee and an English muffin sandwich fresh out of the microwave before a day of hiking, but I'm easy like that. I tend to get pretty gritty when I travel alone and I wouldn't want to start raising the bar now. I know what I want out of a trip--the sensation of a fast ride on a winding road, the freedom to light a cigarette and read books in my underwear, the receptivity to eat either a good plate of spaghetti or an agreeable tub of instant noodles. I mostly just don't want to be bothered. And because so many of the things I truly enjoy doing exclude any one else from participating, it allays any guilt I feel at not meeting my responsibilities to other people who are sharing my time and space.
There are a lot of other reasons to enjoy being alone, too. Left to your own devices, you learn about yourself more quickly than when you are constantly negotiating your role with other people in other relationships. That much is obvious. You also find out how much you have in your head to entertain yourself--that can be a frightening discovery if you find out that there isn't a lot of kindle up there that doesn't require someone else to ignite it. There's this really lovely thought expressed in a book I read a while back called Intimacy and Solitude--why do we assume that strangers' thoughts would be more interesting than our own? Yet so many of us trek to the dark bars night after night because we'd rather be entertained and distracted by strangers than be left alone with our own selves.
There is a frightening gap between feeling lonely and enjoying solitude, however. For me, it's always easy to enjoy solitude when I feel like I am pursuing it, knowing that as soon as I am ready to enjoy the company of my friends the invitation is open to me. It's much harder to remember that being alone can be enjoyable and useful during those dark times when there are no friends or invitations in sight. To be honest, I think the sparse relationships I had in high school and even throughout my college years geared me toward pursuing relationships--no matter how superficial--for the past few years only for me to finally realize through my own experience that it is more worthwhile to have a few quality friends than to make sure you are invited to everyone's birthday party.
The barrier to enjoying solitude that most confounds me is not enjoying any solitary activities; specifically not reading. What the hell do people who don't read do while on the train? On the toilet? In a waiting room? How can you just not read? I find it baffling. If I find myself with more than a couple of idle minutes on my hand and no literature within reach, I feel anxious. Of course I can spend time thinking or writing. I get immense pleasure from both of these activities. But to just not read, to blow off a suggestion of a book not only because you aren't interested in that book but because you just don't read books--that is baffling to me. I don't think you're a bad person, I won't pull a face at you if I find out you don't read, but I will probably assume that you just haven't found your genre and I will continue suggesting books to you, and when I am alone I will furrow and raise my eyebrows whenever I think about you and your not reading.
27. May 2009:
It's never good to start out with a growl, but I have been sitting on this one for a few days and it just has to come out. Grrrrrrrrr.
I have a naughty little habit. I like to read advice columns, especially relationship advice columns. As a kid, I soaked up what I could from Ann Landers and even enjoyed "Hints from Heloise." (We subscribed to The Washington Post.) In college, I graduated to Dan Savage's "Savage Love" and wouldn't change the channel if I happened to surf past Dr. Phil. I don't always like listening to other people's problems, but I've always dug the third-party's insights.
Now, I go to slate.com for a lot of my news, as any of my friends on Facebook can testify. Originally, Ann Landers' own daughter, Margo Howard, piloted the "Dear Prudence" column, and I did a lot of vigorous head-nodding in agreement with her tough, but fair, advice. Since then, Emily Yoffe has been giving us all her two cents, and almost every time I read the column, which is frequently, she pisses me off and I swear I am going to send her an e-mail that is so vitriolic, yet persuasive, that she will resign from the column and spend the rest of her days gardening and turning a blind eye to things that she obviously know nothing about. Her tone is so presumptuous, occasionally caustic, and she never seems to receive a letter from anyone who is in the right. But a recent column really set me off--a young woman who is graduating from college soon is unsure how to juggle her mother and her father, who is married to the woman he left his wife for, at the graduation ceremony as her mother doesn't want the other woman to be present and has threatened not to come if she is going to be there.
Now it's all well and good to counsel her, as Yoffe did, not to bend so quickly to her mother's attempts at "blackmail;" that her mother would "[have] to recognize that there will be times she has to be in the same satellite-map quadrant as her ex." That all makes sense, even though I think it would have been fair and reasonable to counsel the young woman to consider her mother's feelings as well. But her last sentence has been pissing me off for days: "I'm not defending cheating, but your mother's behavior may contain a clue as to why your father wanted out."
Um, wtf?
That is far, far beyond the scope of the request for advice, and on top of telling the young woman to basically tell her own mom--who presumably has been her primary parental figure in the years since her father took off with another woman--to suck it up, it is nothing short of belligerent. It's a complicated situation. I probably would have ended up telling the poor girl four or five different ways to avoid dealing with it and called it a day. But for someone who presumes to be able to give other people insight into their problems and offer sensible solutions, it's completely irresponsible to carry on presuming you know a blessed thing about what went on in a situation that occurred years ago, well behind the scenes from where you are sitting.
And it's not just offensive as a bit of wayward advice in a column. Telling someone "Your mother's behavior"--or even "your behavior," for that matter--"may contain a clue as to why [the cheating partner] wanted out" is just wicked. There are, I am sure, many examples within any adult's social circle of bad behavior on the part of one partner which drove the other partner away. I am thinking anger management problems, drinking and drug abuse problems, severe personality issues, emotional disorders, the kind of problems with which other people just can't and shouldn't have to deal. These do not necessarily have to lead to cheating, even if they are deal-breakers.
There are at least just as many examples within said circles of people who were just too damn weak and selfish to extract themselves from an unsatisfying relationships through any other means except by cheating. In another column, Yoffe herself relegates cheating to the realm of "young people," who "not knowing how to extract themselves from a long, suffocating relationship, end up doing so by starting a new, exciting relationship." (Notice how she is neither advocating nor defending cheating, thank goodness!)
My point is this--cheating always has more to do with the cheater than the one who got cheated on. If you want out of a relationship, leave. It's tough, it's often tragic, and there is simply to easy way to do it. But to not only end a relationship with someone who seemed satisfied to continue it, but to reduce that person by subjecting them to all the feelings of inadequacy that cheating inevitably brings, is simply cowardly.
That being said, it helps to know that almost no one is lured away from a happy relationship, that cheating indicates some deeper problem within the relationship or a deeper problem within the cheater's own psyche. Understanding this can help the victim of betrayal to come to terms with the loss of a person and a relationship that may have meant a great deal to them.
To be honest, this was kind of the cherry on the cake. Since living here, I have heard some Western men make comments to the effect that certain Western women need to "behave themselves" or they risked ending up single white females in Asia. Of course there are examples of people behaving stupidly, but the insinuation that white chicks need to behave themselves or the boyfriends they were lucky to find in the first place will replace them with a more malleable local model is beyond infuriating. Making your partner’s behavior contingent on your behavior makes the whole damn thing so contractual that it isn’t even fun anymore. There’s no room for error, no room for spontaneity, not even room for a bad day. And that it’s the ladies who have to shoulder the burden of behaving well because they wouldn’t want to risk losing their naughty little boyfriends or, worse yet, because they wouldn’t want to bear the shame of being single, is downright nauseating.
On a less combative note, it also indicates a pretty shitty attitude about being single. Looking at my own circle of friends, the single ones are traveling, getting higher degrees, learning to play musical instruments, making positive advances in their interesting careers, embarking on new and risky ventures. I’m the first one to admit that life is not about making money, gaining status, or collecting various experiences, but if you have time to yourself, don’t waste it wishing you had someone special in your life. If dinner is up to you and only you, get wacky in the kitchen. If there’s no one waiting at home, stay out all night. If you aren’t sharing finances, blow a wad of cash on a spontaneous trip somewhere, and if you don’t have anyone else with you, spend the night in a shitty hostel and get yourself some stories to tell. Being single is a great time to be incredibly fruitful and find out everything you can about yourself without anyone else buzzing in your ear. The only time you should be ashamed is the nights you sit at home wasting time, hugging your pillow, watching The Notebook, wishing that there were someone else to cuddle with on the couch. Obviously, relationships can be difficult and even painful at turns, so make sure your romantic relationship isn’t the only thing you having going on in your life, even if it’s a priority.
single ladies
Grrrr.It's never good to start out with a growl, but I have been sitting on this one for a few days and it just has to come out. Grrrrrrrrr.
I have a naughty little habit. I like to read advice columns, especially relationship advice columns. As a kid, I soaked up what I could from Ann Landers and even enjoyed "Hints from Heloise." (We subscribed to The Washington Post.) In college, I graduated to Dan Savage's "Savage Love" and wouldn't change the channel if I happened to surf past Dr. Phil. I don't always like listening to other people's problems, but I've always dug the third-party's insights.
Now, I go to slate.com for a lot of my news, as any of my friends on Facebook can testify. Originally, Ann Landers' own daughter, Margo Howard, piloted the "Dear Prudence" column, and I did a lot of vigorous head-nodding in agreement with her tough, but fair, advice. Since then, Emily Yoffe has been giving us all her two cents, and almost every time I read the column, which is frequently, she pisses me off and I swear I am going to send her an e-mail that is so vitriolic, yet persuasive, that she will resign from the column and spend the rest of her days gardening and turning a blind eye to things that she obviously know nothing about. Her tone is so presumptuous, occasionally caustic, and she never seems to receive a letter from anyone who is in the right. But a recent column really set me off--a young woman who is graduating from college soon is unsure how to juggle her mother and her father, who is married to the woman he left his wife for, at the graduation ceremony as her mother doesn't want the other woman to be present and has threatened not to come if she is going to be there.
Now it's all well and good to counsel her, as Yoffe did, not to bend so quickly to her mother's attempts at "blackmail;" that her mother would "[have] to recognize that there will be times she has to be in the same satellite-map quadrant as her ex." That all makes sense, even though I think it would have been fair and reasonable to counsel the young woman to consider her mother's feelings as well. But her last sentence has been pissing me off for days: "I'm not defending cheating, but your mother's behavior may contain a clue as to why your father wanted out."
Um, wtf?
That is far, far beyond the scope of the request for advice, and on top of telling the young woman to basically tell her own mom--who presumably has been her primary parental figure in the years since her father took off with another woman--to suck it up, it is nothing short of belligerent. It's a complicated situation. I probably would have ended up telling the poor girl four or five different ways to avoid dealing with it and called it a day. But for someone who presumes to be able to give other people insight into their problems and offer sensible solutions, it's completely irresponsible to carry on presuming you know a blessed thing about what went on in a situation that occurred years ago, well behind the scenes from where you are sitting.
And it's not just offensive as a bit of wayward advice in a column. Telling someone "Your mother's behavior"--or even "your behavior," for that matter--"may contain a clue as to why [the cheating partner] wanted out" is just wicked. There are, I am sure, many examples within any adult's social circle of bad behavior on the part of one partner which drove the other partner away. I am thinking anger management problems, drinking and drug abuse problems, severe personality issues, emotional disorders, the kind of problems with which other people just can't and shouldn't have to deal. These do not necessarily have to lead to cheating, even if they are deal-breakers.
There are at least just as many examples within said circles of people who were just too damn weak and selfish to extract themselves from an unsatisfying relationships through any other means except by cheating. In another column, Yoffe herself relegates cheating to the realm of "young people," who "not knowing how to extract themselves from a long, suffocating relationship, end up doing so by starting a new, exciting relationship." (Notice how she is neither advocating nor defending cheating, thank goodness!)
My point is this--cheating always has more to do with the cheater than the one who got cheated on. If you want out of a relationship, leave. It's tough, it's often tragic, and there is simply to easy way to do it. But to not only end a relationship with someone who seemed satisfied to continue it, but to reduce that person by subjecting them to all the feelings of inadequacy that cheating inevitably brings, is simply cowardly.
That being said, it helps to know that almost no one is lured away from a happy relationship, that cheating indicates some deeper problem within the relationship or a deeper problem within the cheater's own psyche. Understanding this can help the victim of betrayal to come to terms with the loss of a person and a relationship that may have meant a great deal to them.
To be honest, this was kind of the cherry on the cake. Since living here, I have heard some Western men make comments to the effect that certain Western women need to "behave themselves" or they risked ending up single white females in Asia. Of course there are examples of people behaving stupidly, but the insinuation that white chicks need to behave themselves or the boyfriends they were lucky to find in the first place will replace them with a more malleable local model is beyond infuriating. Making your partner’s behavior contingent on your behavior makes the whole damn thing so contractual that it isn’t even fun anymore. There’s no room for error, no room for spontaneity, not even room for a bad day. And that it’s the ladies who have to shoulder the burden of behaving well because they wouldn’t want to risk losing their naughty little boyfriends or, worse yet, because they wouldn’t want to bear the shame of being single, is downright nauseating.
On a less combative note, it also indicates a pretty shitty attitude about being single. Looking at my own circle of friends, the single ones are traveling, getting higher degrees, learning to play musical instruments, making positive advances in their interesting careers, embarking on new and risky ventures. I’m the first one to admit that life is not about making money, gaining status, or collecting various experiences, but if you have time to yourself, don’t waste it wishing you had someone special in your life. If dinner is up to you and only you, get wacky in the kitchen. If there’s no one waiting at home, stay out all night. If you aren’t sharing finances, blow a wad of cash on a spontaneous trip somewhere, and if you don’t have anyone else with you, spend the night in a shitty hostel and get yourself some stories to tell. Being single is a great time to be incredibly fruitful and find out everything you can about yourself without anyone else buzzing in your ear. The only time you should be ashamed is the nights you sit at home wasting time, hugging your pillow, watching The Notebook, wishing that there were someone else to cuddle with on the couch. Obviously, relationships can be difficult and even painful at turns, so make sure your romantic relationship isn’t the only thing you having going on in your life, even if it’s a priority.
24. May 2009:
“Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature.” --Albert Einstein
“I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind." --Albert Einstein
"I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers." --Henry David Thoreau, "Solitude," Walden, 1854
"Only in quiet waters do thing mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world." --Hans Margolius
"Solitude shows us what should be; society shows us what we are." --Robert Cecil
"Language... has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone." --Paul Johannes Tillich, The Eternal Now
"There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall." --Colette
"We live in a very tense society. We are pulled apart... and we all need to learn how to pull ourselves together.... I think that at least part of the answer lies in solitude." --Helen Hayes
"Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up." --Pearl Buck
"When we cannot bear to be alone, it means we do not properly value the only companion we will have from birth to death--ourselves." --Eda LeShan
"The happiest of all lives is a busy solitude." --Voltaire
"Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you." --Harold Bloom
"No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength." --Jack Kerouac
"We visit others as a matter of social obligation. How long has it been since we have visited with ourselves?" --Morris Adler
"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." --John Muir
"When they are alone they want to be with others, and when they are with others they want to be alone. After all, human beings are like that." --Gertrude Stein
"What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder, because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great person is one who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Solitude is the nurse of enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is the true parent of genius. In all ages solitude has been called for--has been flown to." --Isaac D'Israeli
"To seek solitude like a wild animal. That is my only ambition. " --The current Dalai Lama, 14th
"It is easier to sail many thousand miles through cold and storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five hundred men and boys to assist one, than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean of one's being alone." --Henry David Thoreau
"Seclusion is the price of greatness." --Paramahansa Yogananda
"Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love." --Francis Bacon
"Ordinary men hate solitude.
But the Master makes use of it,
embracing his aloneness, realizing
he is one with the whole universe." --Lao Tzu
And finally, a poem by John Keats:
quotes on solitude
"Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking." --Jessamyn West“Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature.” --Albert Einstein
“I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind." --Albert Einstein
"I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers." --Henry David Thoreau, "Solitude," Walden, 1854
"Only in quiet waters do thing mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world." --Hans Margolius
"Solitude shows us what should be; society shows us what we are." --Robert Cecil
"Language... has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone." --Paul Johannes Tillich, The Eternal Now
"There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall." --Colette
"We live in a very tense society. We are pulled apart... and we all need to learn how to pull ourselves together.... I think that at least part of the answer lies in solitude." --Helen Hayes
"Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up." --Pearl Buck
"When we cannot bear to be alone, it means we do not properly value the only companion we will have from birth to death--ourselves." --Eda LeShan
"The happiest of all lives is a busy solitude." --Voltaire
"Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you." --Harold Bloom
"No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength." --Jack Kerouac
"We visit others as a matter of social obligation. How long has it been since we have visited with ourselves?" --Morris Adler
"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." --John Muir
"When they are alone they want to be with others, and when they are with others they want to be alone. After all, human beings are like that." --Gertrude Stein
"What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder, because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great person is one who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Solitude is the nurse of enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is the true parent of genius. In all ages solitude has been called for--has been flown to." --Isaac D'Israeli
"To seek solitude like a wild animal. That is my only ambition. " --The current Dalai Lama, 14th
"It is easier to sail many thousand miles through cold and storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five hundred men and boys to assist one, than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean of one's being alone." --Henry David Thoreau
"Seclusion is the price of greatness." --Paramahansa Yogananda
"Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love." --Francis Bacon
"Ordinary men hate solitude.
But the Master makes use of it,
embracing his aloneness, realizing
he is one with the whole universe." --Lao Tzu
And finally, a poem by John Keats:
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell
O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, 5
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, 10
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, 5
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, 10
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
