Because I want to see people and I want to see life

I was thinking about my life last night while listening to "There's a Light That Never Goes Out" by my new obsession, The Smiths.

My goals are the same: I want to go to grad school, teach at a university, and work with trafficked women in Asia, but then, when all that is over, all I really want is to run a bookshop. That would make me so happy.

"..because I want to see people and I want to see life..."

My little store will be the definition of cozy - nothing at all like Barnes and Noble. Instead of wallpaper, the insides would be lined with shelves of used books, all of which members could borrow. I'd sell new one's, too, including works by local poets, novelists and academics. The shop would be just big enough to fit a bunch of comfy sofas, bean bags and coffee tables. And there will be a cafe and bar, where in the evenings there will be poetry readings and hot people making music with their guitars.

I'd like to do this when my kids are grown and I'm content with reclining for good at home in Hawaii.... but imagine if this were to happen in Asia where there's a decent-sized expat community? Staffed with women trained upon leaving shelters?

"Driving in your car, I never never want to go home, because I haven't got one anymore......."

chest pains

My heart is sore. It's as if it's breaking, and I don't know why. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

I noticed the pain when I awoke at 3am from a bad dream. I almost never dream, so when I do, I tend to think it's quite significant. Usually I'd email Jordan and ask him to interpret for me. But this time, the mere thought of what this dream could mean me scares me.

In this nightmare, I was at the funeral of someone I like very much. I was standing in front of his grave wearing a long black dress, holding flowers and reminiscing about the tender moments we shared together (none of which have actually happened.) In spite of the tears that kept streaming down my face, I was lost in my (dream-world) memories of him and was experiencing joy that was pure and sublime. When I could almost feel his face pressing against mine, I remembered that he was dead -- then I woke up, feeling both horrified by his death and elated from having been loved in such a way.

I remember thinking: Oh crap, if anything happens to him anytime soon, I will freak out.
Then I went back to sleep.

When I woke up again at a more decent hour, ready to start the day, the pressure on my chest was immense. Did the dream cause it? Or am I just under stress?


I wouldn't doubt that stress has something to do with it. My actions and reactions seem to come from someone other than me. I barely recognize myself, and it's starting to scare me.

For example, this afternoon as I was walking to my office, some kid hit me with his soccer ball. Granted he wasn't aiming for me, but he shouldn't have been kicking a ball that hard when there were people walking nearby. When the ball hit me, it slammed into my hand and sent my water bottle flying across the sidewalk. Without even thinking, I turned around and shouted: FUCKING WATCH IT!

He apologized meekly and I could understand his friend well enough to get the gist of his comment: "I didn't understand her. I think she was speaking English. She said you should fuck-in wachit."

Oh I felt horrible after. What if one of my students heard? What if the one of my fellow teachers heard? And why the heck couldn't I control my temper? I've never sworn at anybody before - not loudly and to their face, anyway.

It was as if all of the frustration that has been building up over the past month exploded out of me at that moment.

When I got to my office, I did all I could to compose myself before I had to go to tutoring. But all that yelling exacerbated my heart ache, and the deepest of breaths did diddly to calm me.

So, either my heart is breaking for the death of a love that never happened, or my chest hurts from the prickly stuff that is quickly growing over my heart. I hate to say it, but I really do think China is changing me, and while I'm glad that it's making me into a tougher person, I'm not quite sure I like who I'm becoming.

flu to me

ummmm.
The world looks funny from this side of the sea, ten hours ahead of a reality I am aware of only via Facebook (<3). But time and space are nothing when you are flying. ummmmm.

A day of Nabokov (or more specifically, of his famous perv Hummm) and already my imagination has flown, literally flown, in a government plane named KC135, across the vast Pacific. An old friend flying fast toward a fuzzy-eyed me. Of course, not TO me, but in my direction... to those stubby, hairy-armed ancestral roots of mine, to the stubby, hairy-arms of my pride.

These spacio-temporal crossings, these high-altitude trips above unobjective truth up into the wiiiiiispy clouds of MAYBE, leave me airsick, seasick, totally unPacific. Those clouds are only wissssssspy in dreams. In the life of Us, they carry storms, don't you remember, Kacie135? ummmmmmmMaybe I am flying the "H-yi-N-yi"?

Fly, flew, flu........
forget, forget, forget

hottest man alive, now even hotter

FML

Oh God. I don't know how to teach.
NO experience whatsoever.
Tutoring two students at a time does not equal teaching experience.
Oh God. :(

On the upside, I had a very pleasant dream about the Peace Corps last night, which is very encouraging for someone who rarely dreams. It had to do with my host family, which I can't remember anything about other than that I liked them a lot! :)