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.