Tiny Bubbles

Margarie lived in a bubble. Okay, when I say bubble, I do not mean to equate Margarie’s life, literally, to be within a bio-dome that prevents her from being exposed to the germ and hazards of the real world (much like the infamous John Travolta film from the 70s cleverly named, “Boy in the Plastic Bubble”) No, Margarie lived in a psychological bubble. This bubble prevented her from the “germs” and “hazards” of the metaphorical real world.

Margarie saw the best in people. There was no way around it. Sure she had experienced evil and trauma in her life, but her only way to make herself “okay” in this world was to decide to believe that good prevails. Goodness is inherent.

Margarie lived in a wonderful place that surprisingly proved her “goodness” theory of the world. This was a land of comfort and civility. A world where people mattered and human rights weren’t even a topic of discussion (because no one had to worry about their own being obstructed). Life was beautiful in this world. Life was easy.

As it is with most humans, Margarie became bored with her easy and pleasant situation in life. She decided to break out and explore the world. She had many reasons for doing this. One being, she needed to know that such evils that can be seen on hit TV shows like “The Jersey Shore” and the things that her friends and parents had warned her about didn’t truly exist. Yes, Margarie had a mission. She was out to prove to everyone that she could maintain her peaceful and optimistic disposition even in the worst of environments. So, her choice to leave was one out of stubborn pride and a desire to “develop” the ideas of the pessimistic around her. She hopped on a ship to the place that she knew had a reputation for being “corrupt” and “evil”. As Margarie set sail, she was filled with a hope and a dream of becoming enlightened to a new scope of the goodness of mankind.

Oh what a silly girl, Margarie was.

Satirical Animals

Compassion

There was once a squirrel named Comps (short for compassion). He drowned in the tears of a beaver.

Gullible

There was once a dolphin named Guilly (for gullible). She choked on a synthetic leaf.

Arrogant

There was once a turtle named Arro (for arrogant). He fell off a ladder (of the corporate sorts).

Honorable

There was once a rabbit named Able (for honorable). He died trying to….

Lazy

There was once a gorilla named Azy (short for Lazy). He was quite content.

Lonely

There was once a snail named Lee (short for Lonelee). He know himself (really well).

Lies for the Benefit

Is it odd that I resent that the left side of my blog says "Cutest blog on the block". How do they know? And, I get the feeling that somehow, I'm not the only one they tell that to.

Incognito

I’m sitting on the street corner at the café. I have seen over 15 people with which, on any other day, I would have an in depth conversation. I have history with these people. I know specific things about each of them and I know how exactly they fit into our small community. I know their families, I know their churches, I know their drive. However, the hat and glasses that I am currently wearing have allowed me to view these people as an outsider. All of these people have passed by me today without so much as even a glance. Perhaps I am invisible. I took a picture of myself just to make sure. The camera wouldn’t capture an invisible person. Right?

A push and a Shove and a Hit Over the Head (or car)

All roads lead to China: Or at least mine seem to.

I am writing this note to formally tell all of you that I am moving to China. Why you may ask, well of that I am still slightly unsure. However, I can tell you that God has led me on a path that has clearly brought me to this point. Even at times when I decided to derail, he just pushed me back on the path. Sometimes it took a bump on the head, this time it took a more violent and literal jolt to get me back.

Many of you know that my passion for China began a few years ago when I worked for Asia Development Management Group for my internship. That opportunity was brought to me through an email, which I later found out that none of the other students received, that said that they were looking for an intern to sell Tibetan Rugs. Well, I had no idea that when I took that job, I would find a place in which my heart yearned for the people (Kham Tibetans). This people group has been undeniably on the top of my mind since. It is because of this that I talk about China every chance that I get (probably too much :)).

I was lucky enough to receive a Soderquist Fellowship to pay for my Masters. I went into the program knowing that I wanted to someday return to China. After only a few months of my work there, I had the opportunity to travel with Don Soderquist to Benedictine College in Kansas for a board meeting. While there, I met the president of Benedictine College in China. Of course, I latched on to him for the entire time and told him my desire to go to China. Right after our meeting, he emailed me and told me to let him know when I was ready to look for jobs. Over a year later (less then a month ago) I emailed him. He emailed right back and said that they would call for an interview. After a slightly awkward interview (a story for another time), I was accepted for the job!

I will be a marketing and business professor in China!

Oh and the hit on the car. I was having doubts about leaving my family and friends and I was wondering if this is what God had planned. I wasn't sure that I had enough signs to lead my decisions making. Last Friday, I was in a car accident (I am okay, but my car is not). One of the passengers of the car just happened to be from Xi'an, China, where I am moving.

Butterflies: A question of extermination

There have been a few times in my life where I have received what some might call the "butterflies". Most people commonly associate this reference with romantic endeavors; however, upon closer examination, it has become apparent to me that butterflies have crawled their way into my tummy in a wide variety of situations throughout my life. The decision that I am now trying to make is how often do these seemingly innocent butterfly flutters motivate me to jump into situations that have irrevocably dissatisfying long-term results. For example, I think back on every time that I made the poor decision to jump out of an entirely too high swinging swing and landed face first with the wind knocked out of me. You would think that after once or twice, the decision to not jump would be clear and concise. It was almost as if I the inertia induced butterflies continuously caused temporary judgement lapse and memory loss. Now the question remains: am I thankful for the experience of having the euphoria that exists between when my rear end leaves the chair of the swing and when my head thumps the ground? Is it worth trying again?

Polar Bears.

It is a winter wonderland outside. It is beautiful and white and dreamy. However, I cannot seem to quit missing the warm sunshine and the vitamin d that comes from laying out for hours. Compromise. I have been wearing my bathing suit underneath my sweats and hoodie all day.

Complacency Springs

There once was this girl Susie. Susie was in a hurried rush to escape from the confines of her life placement within a shoebox village that we will (for the purposes of this story) call Complacency Springs. Now Complacency was a pleasant place to be and an even better place to grow up. It is the type of place where birds continuously tweet tunes of perfected delight as women stroll down the street with Chantilly lace waist hugging dresses. Four out of five people that Susie came into contact with on a daily basis in Complacency either hugged her or gave her a kind gentle word. The number one distinctive factor about this little village was its adherence to down home old-fashioned values. These values were both subliminally and overtly infiltrated throughout the village. From the perspective of an outsider looking in, Complacency seemed to be the “ideal”. The ideal place to escape from the hustle and bustle of mediocrity and repetitive motion. Complacency seemed to personify the idea of perfection that has only been depicted narratively in unrealistic utopian fiction novels. There exists only one snare in the romanticism that exists within the grandeur of this village. That is the sad fact that an impassable wall exists between Complacency and the rest of the outside world. This is no figurative wall that we are describing here. This wall is a physical structure that prevents beings from either entering or exiting Complacency Springs. Now you would think that the real tragedy in this story would be the fact that outsiders will never have the opportunity to experience the perfection that exists beyond those walls. They will never have the chance to be subjected to the true innocence of emerging fauna in the midst of the simple fog that covers the wooded parts of Complacency each morning. But no. No, the real sadness of this story exists with the angst that protrudes in between the ears and beneath the rib cage of the lead character of our story. Yes, Susie had the unique ability to find sadness in the quiet laugh and smile of the strangers she passed on a day-to-day basis. She found restlessness in the perfectly temperatured summer nights within her cottage home on the hillside. She translated the humming of humming birds and the tweeting of blue jays as a continuous taunting of a life that she would never experience.

Turkish coffee, a cure for the “mean reds”

So, today I went into work with a case of the “mean reds”. For those of you who may have never seen the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s , let me explain. The mean reds happen in those times in your life when you just don’t know what to do with yourself. You want to be alone. You want to be with people. You want to figure out everything that will make you successful in your life as well as give it all up and become a bum. You want to simultaneously laugh and cry. Your mind wants to think about everything and the nothing at the same time.

Unfortunately, during extreme cases of the mean reds (like today), it is absolutely impossible to function in a “normal” fashion during every day interactions with people. My biggest fear is that someone may ask me the wrong question (anything involving the word “future”) and unintentionally induce a panic attack that would end in me curling up in a ball and holding on to their ankles. In order to save myself, and those around me from my current social ineptness, I decided that I would work offsite. The solution didn’t end there.

In a community of a little over 10,000 people, it is impossible to go somewhere for a cup a coffee without having to make small talk with at least 10 people. And unfortunately, my usual desire to befriend everyone has narrowed my options. As I began to play out impending conversations in my head I began to feel my legs starting prepare themselves for “ball” formation.

I am now in a secret nook in the bar section in the Greek restaurant downtown. Fortunately for me, it is socially inappropriate to drink before five. I am chugging down Turkish coffee faster than they can serve it (and man! I am typing fast). I think this is my new hot spot. Maybe I could get a job here after I graduate.

When you can't beat em....

So, every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday the dance school downstairs from my apartment holds clogging lessons. The up side of this is that I get to fight with 20 sum minnie van mommas over a parking spot in front of my building and swim my way through the hoards as they take their talented daughters to class. The downside of this is that I get to hear the same first 45 seconds of a song repeated for over three hours as they begin to learn their routine. It is not so much musical repetition that is difficult to swallow, but more the constant thump thump thump as those gifted little daughters swing and stomp their feet to their heart's content. I have decided that I could either 1. choose to be grumpy for the duration of the dance lesson 2. Put on head phones and resent my downstairs buddies for the residual ear soreness the next day or 3. Stomp for two to three hours three nights a week. I am about 2 hours in. So far. So good.

small dream.

Most nights, I often wish that I had ballet slippers so that I could gracefully make my way from room to room as I carry on with my ordinary chores (toes pointed and head high). There, I said it.