The story of my life

I haven't written in a while because this is part of who I am. I have these days when I get caught up in the everyday crap and forget about the things that are important to me. I forget why I'm here and what I'm supposed to be doing. I have to start over and do things differently.
Yesterday I decluttered my daughter's room. I've done this sort of thing a couple of times, but never to this extent. I threw out her high chair (she's five) and the boards from the crib that she hasn't slept in in years. While it felt good to let go of these things, it was also one of those moments when it really set in that I'm not going to have another child. Sometimes I'm really fine with it and sometimes I'm not. Today I'm fine with it and I'm actually rather happy to have my body as my own.
Well, her room is clean. Everything has its place and it feels fresh. Tonight I'm going to conquer my bathroom. I started this organizing kick because I don't want to drown in my own shit. I mean, how much stuff do I really need? Maybe it helps me feel more at home. I really don't know. In my mother's home, there is and was crap everywhere! I mean everywhere! I lived in a home that should have been torn down and rebuilt. It's probably worse now and it breaks my heart. During my last trip back, I didn't even stay with my mother because her house is just so filthy. I don't want to go down that road and live like that. I want my daughter to be able to have friends come over to visit her without having to run to the door before anyone could possibly see inside. This was my life and one I don't want to repeat. So, I will clean out the clutter and not accumulate more.
I guess this is a period of rebirth for me. I have just come to the conclusion that I need to start saving money and stop buying things I don't need. I'm so good at this. If it were an Olympic sport, I'd have a medal for sure. Possibly several. I've even started writing down everything I spend on a daily basis. I mean everything. I have my little PDA (gadget junkie that I am) and I tap in everything I buy. The sad thing is that while I'm typing in stuff on my PDA, I'm fantasizing about getting a new PDA. The cycle must stop.
There are four girls in my office that have gone out and done the same thing with their hair. It is so funny that people actually want to look like one another. I try my hardest not to blend and they try to. There's no doubt that I am not a local, but I want to make sure that I don't look like anyone else. I do have my xiao jia moments where I where my heels that hurt and carry my fake LV, but for the most part I'm my own gal.
Oh, I'm going to be in the Vagina Monologues. It's going to be pretty interesting and I'm looking forward to it, but I'm a bit nervous because I'm portraying a black, Southern lesbian. The black part won't be a stretch, but I guess I need to work on my Southern lesbian.
I'd better get back to work. I've got to post more. This is my journal for now. I always start paper ones but I never have a chance to write in them. My typing is much faster than my writing.

Feeling Good

Catherine during her days as a POW in Nam

I'm working on a paper for a class I'm taking. In my ears is the most wonderful song in the world. I've just rediscovered Nina Simone. Her voice is like whisky, wine, olives, and just this flavor I can't even begin to put into words. I would love to for one evening have a voice like hers. I imagine myself sitting in this smoky bar in Paris, my hands covered in super gaudy rings while they fan out over the keys of an old upright. The crowd would listen to my words, letting them roll through their minds and into their hearts. Oh, if only I had a semi decent voice. I've thought about taking voice lessons, but have decided that this would be one waste of money that I can't quite justify. One day. Maybe when I hit 50 I'll get my lounge act together.
My friend Zorina reminds me of the singers from the past. She has passion in her soul and just drips such richness. When I see her I feel like Dorothy when she wakes up in OZ. Before the world was previously in black and white, but in OZ, everything is in brilliant Technicolor.
I need to get back to my paper, finish it tonight and then just chill out tomorrow and do some other work. Or I could go surf the net for the lyrics to Feeling Good. Damn is it a good song.
OK, this is my new theme song.

Feeling Good!!!
Birds flyin' high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day,
its a new life for me yeah,
its a new dawn its a new day its a new life for me ooooooooh
AND I'M FEELING GOOD

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin' free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
And I'm feelin good

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what i mean dont you know
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done that's what I mean
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Yeah, Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me (
Free styling) OH I'M FEELING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.

Fashionable memories

It's starting to get a bit cooler and I love it. I wish I had some profound reason for loving the cold weather, but it is actually all about clothes. The rich chocolate browns, the fake fur, the leather boots and the tights of cooler weather are the ultimate in fantastic. I don't mind summer clothes. They're fine and in Taipei, the less you wear the better. I just prefer fall and winter fashions. I'm not some fashionista or anything of the sort. Basically I'm a former fat girl with a passion for fashion. When I was a kid, I remember waiting to buy the Back-to-School issue of Seventeen magazine. I would look at each page and imagine myself in the corduroy pants or the tweed jackets. I would be so hot in the fashions that defined the 80s. The only problem, well at least one of them was that I was 250 pounds. Back then before fat chic, there wasn't much for the fashionably conscious pudgy set. It was Lane Bryant or bust. I wasn't unfashionable. I had my own style and even if it were larger than average, I think I sort of carried it off a wee bit. I don't know if I did or not, but I was a princess of delusion, so I'll never know. I went through this punk stage when I was in high school. I had one side of my hair above my ear shaved, bleached blond and then dyed hot pink. I wore this oversized biker jacket and I thought I was the shit. My dad freaked a bit, especially when his brother died and we had to go down to Alabama for his funeral. I ended up using some temporary mousse that covered the pink, but dripped on my clothes under the drizzling rain during the funeral. I miss my dad a lot these days. There are things that I want to share with him, but I have to keep to myself. There's a part of me that keeps thinking that it is all a bad dream and that I'm going to wake up, call my dad and discover that he's fine. I just want him to know that I'm fine. I want him to know that I'm not going to fuck up my life like I was doing before he got sick. I guess if I could have anything right now, I'd like a chance to speak with him and have him back to normal for a while. My dad wasn't perfect, but he was mine. I always tell Gordon the I hope Catherine feels the same way about him as I feel about my dad. I want to go home sometimes, but I'm afraid of how I'll react. I like to think that I'll be mature and not breakdown like a blubbering idiot, but knowing myself, I don't think this will happen. It's almost time for me to get off the train. I'm writing this on the way home because this is my only time to do what I love. Now it's off to get Catherine, make a semi-nutritious dinner (Is chicken broccoli rice bad for a kid three days in a row?), do a bit of bonding, get here to bed and then do some homework. I have a progress report to do for an assignment and my progress sucks. I could have worked on it more, but trying to be Holly Homemaker and making Catherine's costume took more time than I anticipated. Here's a few pictures of her as a "rainbow fairy." Gordon thought she looked like a car wash. I don't care. She's my car wash and I love her.

I'm a lump

I'm one of the biggest wasters of money. In fact, I think I've perfected it into an art. I joined the gym and barely go. I buy books, read a chapter, and then drop them like dirty socks. I want to stop doing this. I'm getting better. I used to have this stupid thing with Starbucks. I'd buy a Grande coffee of the day, suck it back, and feel good about my contribution to the world of Seattle gourmet coffee. Now I have a hard jar of Nescafe in my drawer at work it it will suffice. Now I just have to figure out how to get over my clothes thing.
Oh, I've decided to start wearing a corset. I tried one on the other day and it was just so cool. It lifted, tucked, sucked in, taped down, or whatever it does to all the right spots. I felt so glamorous and sexy. No one will see it, but I think that is part of the appeal of matching underwear and things of this nature. It's the knowledge that you're wearing something a bit risque and no one else in the world knows about it. I'm just debating what color to buy now. Do I go with the basic black or one of those funky flesh tone grandmotheresque ones?
I'm looking forward to Halloween. Actually, I'm looking forward to it being over. In one of my Brady Bunch mother moments I decided to make my daughter's costume. She wants to be a rainbow fairy. Having never seen a rainbow fairy or a snow fairy, we're just using our imagination. Seeing that I totally suck at sewing, this project is proving to be harder than I thought. I made a stretchy skirt that I'll attach strips of sewn fabric to. There needs to be about fifty of them, but so far, I have about five of them done. It's going to be a long night and I've got to get started on it as soon as I get home. Actually, I'm going home a little bit early today. I just want a few minutes to veg out somewhere before I pick up Catherine from art class.
Back to work. Can't wait to get outta here for the weekend.

Feeling Powerless

My daughter is sick again. Yesterday, I had plans of going to the International food festival at TAS, but at five o'clock in the morning we had vomit. It's a weird when she gets sick. I love her more than anyone in the world, but in the moments when she's throwing up on my sheets and pillowcases, I am truly torn. So, we went to the see the doctor. On the way there, she decorated the interior of my car a few times, but we made it there all right. Hopefully she'll be all right by tomorrow. I could take the day off, but then it throws the week and we're all in for it.
Right now she's fine. She's playing the the doll house she got two years ago and never plays with. She's been fed and bathed and I feel like she's my baby again instead of this little kid that never listens to me. She says these things that still blow me away though. The other day when she came home and had to use the toilet, she profoundly said, "Sometimes when I go pee, it feels so good that I have to shake my head." It was at that moment, I realized that I have this person in my life who can form these thoughts that can express something like this.
My husband is watching a TV show that is way too loud. It's another exciting Sunday here in my household. Nothing much going on. I'm insulting my husband. He went to the barber down the street and got the worst haircut that I've ever seen in my life. The sideburns are different lengths, it's shaved in the back and long on top. It's A Flock of Seagulls meets Adolph Hitler. I know one thing for sure is that I'm married to a man in his forties. This afternoon I even plucked the hair out of his ears. Now if that isn't romantic then I don't know what is.
Gotta get down to the housework.

Feeling my age

It is Sunday afternoon and all is quiet in the household. My daughter is taking a late nap, my husband is sprawled out on the couch, and the fish are doing their fish thing in the tank. Tonight we'll have a nice Sunday night dinner. It's one of the few days of the week when the three of us can sit down together and eat at the same time. Is this what it will always be like? Whatever happened to that Brady Bunch type of family where everyone sits down at the same time and eats together. As it is, my husband's out until 10 or 11 at night and Catherine's in bed by the time he gets home. I'm having a moan.
I went to the night market last night with one of my friends. It's sort of surreal going around there because it's such an assault on the senses. I need one of those deprivation chambers or something afterwards. It's so noisy, stinky, and crowded. I loved it!!! It is the total opposite of what I would have gotten into years ago, but now I almost crave it. Taipei does this really bizarre thing to what you will and won't accept anymore. I remember when I first got here how I'd freak out at some of the things I saw. Chickens clucking at the side of the road moments before they met their chicken maker (wow, in more ways than one) were one of them. The other day I bought a whole chicken at Wellcome. This was one of those major, major deals for me. All of my life, chicken only came in breast form, no skin, no feathers, and perfectly wrapped on its bed of Styrofoam. Picking out this chicken was a step toward something, but it was a big one. I came home and let me tell you, I'm never buying a whole chicken as long as I live. Catherine was standing in the doorway as I was trying to cut off the chicken's claw with this cheap IKEA knife. As I was sawing into the joints and tendons and stuff, the claws moved and retracted!!!! Yuck!! Double yuck! I'm going back to the breasts perfectly presented on Styrofoam. I tried. I did. I just can't look at heads and claws anymore. So, I can't accept this part of life in Taiwan, but that's why they cut them up and sell them the way I need them.
But, I have come to accept that it's OK to buy a fake LV bag or a tacky T-shirt with the words spelled wrong on it. How did this happen? I have no idea, but it's all right.
I have work to do. I'm taking a class online and I'm getting overwhelmed a wee bit. My balls are all up in the air, but I'm learning a lot that I didn't know before. And I thought I knew everything.

Counting down the minutes

Bitan Bridge from My Little White Ford
It has been a long, long, week and I'm so happy it is Friday. I wish I could say that I got everything done that I wanted to do, but once again this doesn't happen. A few weeks ago I got on this kick that I have ADD. I'm sure that I do because I have all of the symptoms, but I'm afraid of doing anything about it. I've sort of , kind of functioned this long as a total wreck, what can another fifty years in this condition do? I hope that it will get easier and I'll become one of those super organized women that I read about. Until then, I'll be the queen of half-assed.
I told a big lie the other day. I was having this woman come and clean my house once a week. I'm not really lazy, but I just don't have time to clean my house the way I'd like for it to be cleaned. I'm not looking for spotless, just presentable. Working full time sort of makes this a total dream, but I do think it will happen one day. Well, this very nice woman was coming once a week to clean my house and SHE WAS AWFUL!!!! I hate being picky seeing that I'm superslob at times, but I could have done a better job and I don't charge myself NT$250 an hour. She was even saying that she needed to have six or seven hours to do the job. Get outta here! I sound like a total cow writing this, yet it is true. So, I told her that we couldn't afford it. On top of it, I blamed my husband for it. That's the best part. It's so nice being married and being able to blame someone else for these sorts of things. That's one of the great things about having a daughter as well. All social engagements can be cancelled due to "Catherine has a runny nose."
Tomorrow she's supposed to go on a field trip with her school, but we've opted out of it. First, it's to a farm in Taoyuan. Second, it's on SATURDAY!! Running around a farm in Taoyuan on a Saturday being herded on and off one of Taiwan's notorious-killer-weaving-in-and-out-of-traffic-because-the-driver-is-drunk coach buses is not my idea of a relaxing day. I think I'm going to just take her to the fabric market tomorrow. She wants to be a fairy for Halloween. God help me. My sewing skills are so horrible but she's at the age where she's still not too picky.
Well, I'd better get going to the Hsintien. If I leave now, I can still get a strap on the MRT and a spot on a dirty yellow pole on the bus for a half an hour. Mama needs some tea. She's starting to feel a bit edgy.

End of a long weekend

I'm in mourning for the end of the long weekend. For three days I did nothing but hang out with Gordon and Catherine. It wasn't exciting by anyone's standards, but it was nice. It was nice not having to answer my phone. It was nice just wearing what I wanted to wear. It was nice just being together and not having to worry about anyone or anything else. Maybe we just had a good weekend together. Usually it is awful and I'm on the point of murdering my husband, but I did some tongue biting and despite the blood I'm feeling great. I just killed this big ass mosquito. I mean it was huge and full of someone's blood. It got stuck in my wedding band. Disgusting creatures. I hope it was my own blood and not my nasty neighbor guy who lives next door. He's a rude old bugger and he doesn't have much to say to anyone outside of a few head raises and the occasional grunts. His apartment smells like cigarettes and booze. Once he almost caught the place on fire and Gordon had to burst down the door. It was pretty funny and Gordon loved being the hero. He didn't shut up about it for a week.
I have a ton of things I should be doing right now. I should be in bed. I should be working on a book for work, but I then feel like I should be doing my own writing. That's the thing with making my living piecing together words. I write all day long and use words to put together thoughts, but when I try to do it for myself, I feel as if I fall short. Maybe it's like a prostitute having to put out all day long and then having to come home to her husband. She so badly wants to make love to the man she loves, but she's used up all of her "love" on other men. Sex and words are very different, but I'm trying to make an analogy here, not get into a debate. Who am I debating anyhow? I haven't exactly told anyone about this blog. It's for me. It's that little piece of myself that I'm throwing to the wolves. Maybe I'm waiting for someone to hurt my feelings, but honestly I'm not. I'm just writing because I love the feeling of pounding on the keyboard and watching the thoughts that are swirling around come out on paper. Tomorrow I'm going to get up and do some mental purging here. Off I go to give myself a little dermabrasion wash and to sleep for at least six hours.

Sick Day

Pictures from the MRT. Sleeping Woman and Bad Spelling.

I took the day off because I thought for sure I was dying. I wasn't and I haven't. Just a bit of a sinus infection. Drugs are fantastic and I'm always amazed at the beauty of modern medicine. I went to the doctor, sat for five minutes while he asked me questions, and then three minutes later I walked out with my salvation. I feel a hundred times better than I did when I woke up. Catherine is sitting at the table eating her dinner and I'm feeling like a bad mother, but I don't have any other time to write than the hours when she's at home. I sneak a few minutes in here and there. My sister sent me a picture of my other sister's daughter. She's only three but she is huge. It makes me so sad because it seems like my sister didn't learn the lesson of what it was like to be fat growing up. I remember is all so clearly and I don't want my daughter to go through this. I'm not going to starve her, but I do make sure that she eats in moderation and her diet is healthy.
I hated being fat. I hated the way I looked in the mirror. Every part of my life was controlled by the fat that covered my body. At my heighest weight I was 310. This was back in college. I'm now in a normal body, but still I sometimes see myself as the fat girl I was for so long. She comes out and tells me that I'm nothing. She looks me in the eye and tells me that none of my dreams will come to anything. She's such a bitch. I know that I can easily go back to where I was. It is just a matter of picking up that first bite of things I can't eat. It would just take one bite and I'm gone. My food story is so long and troubling, but it is who I am.
I'd better sit with Catherine while she eats. She's such a little muffin.

The Power of a Sandwich

It has been a long time since I've written anything on here. It isn't for lack of something to say, just time to sit and write. I saw something today that needed to be addressed. No one may read a word of what I have to say, but I have to say it.

I get on the subway at the second station from the beginning of the line. There are usually plenty of seats. This morning I got a seat as usual. A few yards away from me there was this old man pretending to be asleep or at least very quickly knocked out. Next to him sat a plastic-wrapped sandwich. There were plenty of seats, so no one sat on or asked him to move his sandwich. At the next stop, all of the empty seats filled up except for the one with the sandwich on it. People looked at it and walked on. Some stared at it as they held onto the strap, but no one said anything to the man. It took all of my strength to not go up and knock that damn sandwich off the seat. It's so funny because so many people around here will drive your ass off the road just to get an inch ahead of you, but won't open up their mouth to make you move a sandwich. I've seen it before. People will have a newspaper on the seat next to them and no one will say a word to ask them to move it. I think I'll give it a try tomorrow as a social experiment.
My child is asking to be fed. I guess I'd better give her something soon.

The Bad Mothers

I have a case of the "bad mothers" creeping on. I'm going out for the first time without my daughter. She's almost five years old but I hardly go anywhere without her when I'm not working. I'm a total freak of nature and should probably be put out of my misery but I can't help it. I feel like I'm doing something wrong just by having five minutes to myself. I'm going to a reception at the American Club. I've never set foot in the place and I haven't a clue as to what to expect. I feel like I've lived in Taipei for years, but I live on another version of it. There are three different Taipeis for foreigners in my opinion. There's the Taipei for the young backpacking set. They can hang out at the nightclubs, roll up to work pissy drunk, and sing happy songs to a room full of three year olds. Then there's the Taipei for the "expat". Exclusive clubs, TAS tuition paid for by the company, cars with drivers, and posh apartments up in Tien Mu. Next there's the Taipei for people such as myself. We're not exactly the backpacking foreigners, but more like the people who just came and stayed. Our homes are furnished by IKEA, our cars are third or fourth hand, and life is rather the same as it would be anywhere else except for the fact that everyone speaks Chinese around us. We're not rolling in cash and our kids have never had a nanny change their diaper or carry them down the street while we walked in front of them. Oh, do I sound bitter. I'm not. I just find it very interesting how there is such a huge divide among people. When I first got here, I used to smile at every foreigner that walked down the street. I was like a puppy, sticking out my tongue and wagging my tail. Most of the time they would just walk past, but sometimes I'd elicit a smile. Now, I'm the head forward, ignore my fellow citizens that I used to hate. Oh, how times they are a changin. Well, I'd better fly out of here. Me must go and mingle with the moneyed set.

Feeling my age

It is a half an hour before lunch and I'm really starting to feel my age. I know I'm only 34, but there are all of these aches and pains showing up that I didn't have when I was younger. I think I'm in better health, but things just aren't working like they used to. I keep saying I'm going to go to the gym during my lunch break, but I'm not feeling up to it. Even my hair hurts from my lat workout.
I'd better get back to work. I have a ton of things I can be working on, but my ability to concentrate can really stink sometimes. I swear I must have ADD or something. I was watching a pirated copy of Desperate Housewives and the woman with the four kids took some of her kids ADD medicine. She was able to do all of these things and had a ton of energy and was focused. I must be sick because I found myself really wanting to get some of this stuff. According to the show, it works this way if you don't have ADD. I don't think I have it, I'm just too quick to jump onto something else. Oh, I'd better get back to work.

A sadness

I should be working. I have a file open in front of me that I'm writing, but my mind keeps flipping to different pages. I can't stop thinking about what has happened down in New Orleans and Mississippi. I feel like the world and the country I grew up in has changed. It isn't the same and a line has been crossed that can't be uncrossed. As a kid I traveled all over the south. Every year my father would take us down to Alabama to visit his relatives in Jasper. It was a form of punishment in our eyes and as we grew older and developed wills of our own, the idea of spending a hot summer surrounded by dogs in heat and my aunt yelling across the yard every few minutes just did not appeal. Though I wasn't a big fan of the south, it is part of my blood. My cousins and kin folk all live down there though I anticipate never going back there ever again.

Once my father took us down to New Orleans for the World's Fair. Being a hot, sweaty, fat preteen, I hated the trip. I thought everyone moved slow and was beneath my Northern ways of living. After all, I was from Ohio. The food was excellent and every opportunity to eat some of those fried donuts was taken.
When I was in the Navy, I spent New Year's Eve walking around with a bunch of other sailors from the photography school. We drank huge beers, threw up on the streets of the city, and crashed in a hotel room off of Bourbon Street.
These are the memories I had. I now only see the sadness and pain from the faces of the people of New Orleans. I'm disgusted with George W. Bush. I'm disgusted with people who support him. I'm disgusted with Donald Rumsfeld and all the other bastards just like him. Dick Cheney has been awfully quiet in the past few days. Are they afraid he'll open his mouth and stick his foot in. If this were a suburb of Illinois or an upper-middle class neighborhood, would this have happened? Hell no. Anyone who says anything about not being ready is totally full of shit. I think they were just watching and waiting. Maybe trying to weed out some of the people they considered undesirable. Would they be doing anything if the world weren't so connected and TV cameras weren't recording any of this? If this had been fifty years ago, would they even be in their right now? Thirty? Twenty?
I'd better get back to work.
I have a bad taste in my mouth and no amount of gum can get rid of it.

Hoping for a typhoon day

It has been a while since I've posted. I was caught up in a bunch of things at work and at home. I'm sitting in my bedroom writing this, daughter is in bed, husband is in the shower. I had my computer in the living room, but for some reason, I was tired of looking at a desk full of papers and other bits of shit every day. It was rather depressing. I bought this huge table at IKEA but then it started to dip in the middle. The strangest thing in the world, but now it is sitting on my back balcony until I can return it this Saturday.
A typhoon is headed this way and I'm sort of hoping that it will end up being a day off from work. I just want a day when I don't have to get up and go anywhere. Weekends are my only time to do anything and I just want one day during the week when taking a shower is the main objective.
I have a lot on my plate right now, but I'm loving it. I want more. I'm a greedy cow when it comes to life. There aren't enough hours to do all of the things I want to do. If I had 50 hours in a day I would:
1. Do yoga every morning.
2. Meditate
3. Mop my floors every morning
4. Answer every email
5. Fix my hair
6. Put on my makeup in my house instead of on the way to work
7. Drink two cups of hot coffee instead of one hot and one cold
8. Teach my daughter to read. She's only four, but I thought she'd be in Harvard by now.
9. Whip up cool skirts and handbags
10. Practice my photography
11. Learn how to read palms
12. Paint my living room
13. Write a novel
14. Call people I keep forgetting to call.
15. Send text messages
16. Write my friend Rachel in Alabama
17. Write here every day
18. Take the fingernail polish off my right hand. I got to the left on Sunday, but I haven't quite made it to the right.
19. Take off the toenail polish Catherine put on my nails and skin.
20. Get a massage
21. Get my hair washed.
23. Sleep for seven hours.
24. Get flawless skin
25. Find old friends and write them on a regular basis
26. Find a friend and keep them

Oh, husband is out of shower. Must go. Wifely duties call.

I'm a murderer

In the past ten minutes, I've killed with the pressure of my thumb, about a dozen ants. I'm sick and tired of these damn things. Everywhere I look in my house, I see these little ants. I've put down paste, sprays, and anything else in hopes of getting rid of them but they won't go away. I'm having one of those days when I want to jump out of my skin. I want to live somewhere else. I'm tired of the sameness and the everydayness of my life here. I'm not craving the excitement of a big city or anything like that. Hell, Taipei is pretty big. What I want is to go somewhere and see something new. I do the same thing over and over again. Week after week. I'm getting bored with it all. My husband doesn't understand this and doesn't quite understand why I'm going crazy.
Today was the start of Ghost Month. It's a horrid time of year and I can still smell the stink of burning paper on my skin. People burn fake money to honor their ancestors. Today they did it in my office and I stood out there trying to be part of the team when all I really wanted was a chance to take some interesting pictures. I think I got a few, but at the same time I'm sure I have black lung. I should be used to it now, but I'm not.
My computer was being repaired for a few days and I think this made me cranky as hell. It's not so much that I'm addicted to it, it's just that without my laptop, I feel like a part of my body has been cut off. It is the way I've communicated with people for the past few years and being without it was uncomfortable. OK, maybe I am addicted to typing and writing, but not the Internet. That's what the work computer is for.
I just cleaned my living room. I purge every few weeks, just to get rid of some of the stuff that accumulates. The first time I did it, I felt like a queen. Garbage bag after garbage bag left my three bedroom apartment. I feel peaceful for about a week, but then more kept coming in. I know I should be in a 12 step program for cluttering, but I can only do one at a time. I just never want to end up like my mother. She is a total slob. That's a nice way of putting it. Her house is and always will be a total disgusting excuse for a home. I haven't been inside the house in about seven or eight years. I peaked inside the last time I went home, but I didn't go in. There are a lot of bad memories and I'm afraid if I go back in, I'll get sucked back into that world. Maybe that's why I moved halfway around the world.
I'm sleepy and I'd better go to sleep. I am going to try and add pictures today, but the last time it didn't work.
Night.

Missing My Dad

There are some days when I wake up with a longing to speak to my father. He has dementia and doesn't even know me anymore. There are so many things I want to share with him. I want to tell him about the things that happen in my life here in Taiwan. I want to send him pictures of my family and his granddaughter. I just want to tell him jokes or funny stories and hear his goofy laugh again. It's been about three years since I've been back to see my parents. The last time I saw my dad he was at the half way point. I went back with my daughter for two weeks and saw for myself what my sister had been talking about. It was sad to look in his eyes and see him, but he didn't see me. During my time back home, I drove him around the city and sat with him at Bob Evans. He told me the same stories over and over again. He ate snack after snack, forgetting that he had just eaten. He went to the restroom and forgot to close his pants. Someone had stolen my father and replaced him with a replica. Every night of my stay I would call back home and cry to my husband. He didn't get it and thought I was being dramatic. In my mind I felt like my father was packing for a trip and I didn't know where he was going. Now he is there, in the state of dementia and I don't think he's ever coming back. I feel awful sometimes because I wish it had been my mother who got sick. She's always had a love for hospitals. She has spent probably a total of three years of her life in and out of hospitals for various ailments. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to have someone wipe her ass. Not my dad. He was always proud, strong, and determined. I love both my parents, but I still wish it had been my mother. Today is one of those days when I wish I could just wake up from this nightmare and call my father on the phone. I still harbor this secret desire that he's going to call me up and tell me that he's been faking it for the past few years. He always had a weird sense of humor. I really just want him back.
Gotta get down to work. My husband will be home from work soon and I've got an early start.

Saturday evening

It's almost six in the evening and all is well. My daughter went to her first appointment with the dentist. Her teeth were perfect and I actually took pictures. Here in Taiwan, some of the children have the nastiest teeth I've ever seen in my entire life. I mean, three and four year old with little stubby black nubs. Poor things must have to eat soft food. I want to slap the mothers and fathers upside their heads. I try to reconcile the fact that it's a cultural thing, but damn, your kids teeth will make a difference in their entire lives. OK, maybe it won't make that big of a difference, but I don't want to take any chances. This is just one of those love/hate things I have with living here.

Things I Hate
1. The way people pull out in front of you and drive like total assholes. I mean, I know I don't have a driver's license, but don't honk your horn if I don't feel like breaking the speed limit or hitting the woman in front on me who is riding a scooter with her three kids, groceries, dog, and no helmet.
2. People who get on the subway and they haven't bathed in over a week. It's this smell that is like dirty unwashed butt, cigarettes, and motor oil. Lovely!
3. Betel Nut stains everywhere. Most people don't know what this is, but it's a mild narcotic that really low class men chew here. They then spit the bright rust colored juice on the ground. The first week I was in Taiwan, I thought it was blood.
4. The massive amount of three legged dogs that hop around the area where I live. Stray dogs are a big problem here and I'm always afraid that one is going to come up and tear a chunk out my leg.
5. Public bus drivers. They suck! One slammed on the brakes and my daughter and I went flying across the floor.
6. Pollution. This is really bad when people are burning paper (fake) money to their ancestors. EPA would have a fit, but it's a tradition that is stupid as shit, but it's their culture.

What I Love
1. The people I work with. They come and go, but the core people have been there for years and I've now been there for about five.
2. My daughter's school. She loves it. It's convenient and she's learning Chinese.
3. The weather. Oh, we get the occasional earthquake and typhoon, but we get a lot of warm weather and great days when the sun is just perfect.
4. My neighbors. They don't bother us a lot and when they do, it's just for my daughter to play with their daughter.
5. We have great grocery stores.
6. The day market. Fresh fruits and vegetables.
7. Taipei 101!!!! Fantastic place to visit. Great shopping. Wonderful bookstore. Incredible grocery story. Food that is out of this world.
8. It's safe. Never been bothered by anyone. Can go out at two or three in the morning and I'm not worried about getting mugged.
9. My car. I love being able to zip around the city when I want.
10. Cheap Internet connection.
There are lots of things and I'll list more of the things that I love and hate later.
Here are some pictures I've taken over the past few days. I'm loving my little Nikon Coolpix.

A Storm is a Brewin

It's one of those stinking hot evenings where I'm starting to smell myself and I'm not too pleased about it. Catherine's in bed, my husband is out teaching a class, and I'm supposed to be completing some work on a book I'm writing. It's not what I'd call a real book, but one that is geared toward teaching English. I love my job, but sometimes I wish I worked in a factory where I didn't have to think for more than two minutes ahead of time. All day long I thought it was Wednesday. It's pretty cool because now I know that I only have to get through one more day until the weekend. This weekend is shaping up to be pretty dull with the highlight of it being a BBQ on Sunday. I'm sort of kind of a member of this organization here in Taipei. It's called DAP (Descendants of African People). Being a black American woman, I qualify. It's funny, there are a lot of us out here, but we're spread out a bit. It's sort of rare seeing another black face during the day. I still sometimes find it hard to believe that I married a white man. I'm not racist, I just never thought I would. It's just one of those things where you never know who you will end up with. G. my loving/toxic/darling husband is my best friend and at times my tormenter. Actually, we torment one another. The dirty socks, the coffee cups with the latte foam, and all of the other little fingers that push buttons are a fine art with the two of us. I tried this experiment a few weeks ago and it seems to work. I was reading this book called Mindful Loving. It said that you should think positive thoughts about a person and whenever a negative thought comes into mind, you snap yourself out of it and blah, blah, blah. IT WORKED! No fights, no pettiness. It was pure bliss, but damn was it boring. I missed being a total cow and throwing his dirty socks in his office. I mean, who wants to be friggin Mrs. Brady. Not this chick. I do it about 50/50 now.
Tomorrow I'm going to wake up early and meditate. There's a typhoon blowing through. It's a small one, but it's kicking up a bit of wind and tossing around my much-in-need-of-water plant. I might get a day off. We had a typhoon day last week. It was all right, but I was going a bit stir crazy after a few hours.
I'd better get to my work. It's either that or another game of solitaire.

She's down for the count

The story has been read and she's now in bed. Catherine's a great kid and is totally into this fantasy thing. Tonight I read her a story about Fairyland. This is the 5th time this week I've read it.
My daughter was made in Taiwan and has lived here for her entire four and a half years. Yes, I'm bragging, but I think it's pretty cool. Personally, after five years, my Chinese sucks while she's fluent and can even write different Chinese characters. She's smart. It must have been all the egg, mayo, and saurekraut sandwiches I ate when I was pregnant with her.
I want another child. I've been trying for the past three and a half years. One miscarriage, chlomid, injectible fertility drugs, and bitter Chinese medicine later, I'm still without another child. I come from a fertile lot. My mother had five! I guess I just can't believe I couldn't get pregnant. I'm a black woman for goodness sake. I've got these big ass birthin hips and I'm willing and waiting. But it just isn't happening. I have a few friends that are super fertile and it sort of pisses me off. I don't hate them or resent the fact that they can have a ton of kids, I just feel like I should get a few more. It's the whole Golden Egg, Willy Wonka thing! "I want a golden egg and I want it now!!!!" Everyone always tells me how lucky I am to have a daughter. I hate this shit. It's stupid and I resent when people say this. Like I forgot I have a healthy daughter. Oh, thank you for reminding me. Had you not mentioned it, I'm sure I would have forgotten.

Juggling

It's time for my daughter to go to bed. She's looking at me with these crazed little eyes with red bags underneath them. Dressed in her school clothes picked out by her father (a winter long sleeved shirt with three sets of skis and snow on it and a pair of shorts) she's watching this British TV show her aunt sent her. I keep thinking that I'm going to be one of those super disciplinarian parents where my daughter is bathed and in bed by 8:30. It hasn't happened yet. Things sort of change once you actually have a kid. I used to be totally disgusted by parents who let their kids sleep in their bed. I thought they were total freaks and knew for sure I wouldn't be that type of parent. Fast forward four and a half years and most evenings I have this 35 pound four year old and her sweaty body wedged between me and my husband. At first it was, "I'm scary." Besides having her grammar wrong, I just couldn't push her away when she broke out the adjectives. I mean what type of mother would I be?
OK, I'm going to turn off the DVD, give her a hose down, read the same fairy story that needs a few pages ripped out of it, and then get her in bed. By my estimates, I could have her in bed by nine. I think.

Too much Diet Coke!

I'm feeling a bit wired and edgy. It's 11:38 here in Taiwan and I should be in bed. My husband is trying to micro manage my first attempt at blogging. He's hovering and peeking over my shoulder every minute or so. My eyes are tired and all I want to do is to get in bed and fall asleep, but after drinking a liter of Diet Coke, I know it will be an hour or so before I go to bed. It's been a hot and funky day here in Taipei. The ride on the train was crappy and I stood the entire way home next to a teenager with horrid body odor. It was a combination of sweat, some sort of spicy meat, and plaque. I don't want to gross you out, but it is just not what I needed after a day at work. I spent the majority of my day sitting at my desk in my leaning chair typing away at articles for the magazine I work for. The air conditioned was set at perky and the day was punctuated with questions by a coworker that I want to kill. He's a nice guy, but there really are times when I want to stick a Bic pin in the side of his face.