Below are just some separated scenes from my personal story.  May they entertain you, and may you find meaning in the uniqueness of it all.
But we all have a story.  Share your own story by starting up a discussion or commenting on the forum, so that others may see and hear.



four:two:nine
"Vlog 11: This Is Polysyllabolingual"




three:twenty-five:nine
"Hindsight"
"It's the end of the world as we know it.  And I feel fine."

China is coming to a close.  What took years to get here, and months beforehand to process, say out loud, think out loud, prepare for personally and with those close to me... finished.  I suppose not finished.  Even after a book's last page is read, the contents, memory, and experience stay with the reader for some time after, and a small part, for eternity.  And the door to China as a country isn't closed, though I have no current intentions or plans to return in the near future, or even at all at this point.  But the waking up to fireworks, the windy dry wintry days, the food off the street... all are quickly becoming phantoms of my past.

Nothing in life is quite what we expect.  At least, that's been my experience.  Maybe you've had a rare occurrence where things actually did go exactly like you thought it would.  Not I.  And in fact, that's one of the things that, coming to the other side of this China thing, I'm walking away with.  The unexpectedness of life, and finding beauty in taking things for what they are.  I didn't intend to come to China as an English teacher.  I didn't intend to leave China before a year was over.  For the better or worse is often hypothetical (and third conditional, for you English majors out there).  But they change.  And accepting that things are allowed to alter and differ than your original plan A (or plan B) is both a terrifying and peaceful thing.

I've also learned that I can't wrap the world around my head.  I can't contain it.  China has done a good job at dismantling my boxes.  What's socially acceptable?  What's normal body language?  What should/shouldn't government do?  What's hospitality look like?  How should one person relate to another?  These things are so varied and different in this very foreign culture.  Things are foreign in a way that goes beyond language and traditions.  And by being so unfamiliar, it has pushed me to dig deeper to see the commonality of humankind.  There are things we all share.  But there are many differences, expressions, and interpretations of day-to-day life.

By forcing me to be intentional and removing me from the familiar, I've learned about what I take for granted.  That comes off way cliché.  But I've honestly never been without many of the things, like community, family, a microwave, a car, Tex-Mex food.  I'm sure like many of the saturated periods of life, this lesson will soon fade into some sort of relative normalcy and I'll be re-taking things for granted.  But I'd like to think that an appreciation of the simple and an understanding to delayed gratification will remind, even if in a small diluted degree.  I have learned that "patience" really is the answer to many, many things.  I've also learned that I'll never quite learn that.  I'll never get really good at it.  Though perhaps I've gotten a little bit better.  Perhaps.

I'm so grateful for China.  I'm so grateful for the support and perspective my family, my friends, and my darlin have given me.  I'm grateful to have shared, even in small ways, this experience with others, both here, and back home.  I'm grateful for love growing and thriving, even in distance.  I'm grateful for His constancy and for His persistence in conviction and wisdom.  So much to learn still.  And though it doesn't look great on blogs compared to an international trip, my journey is far from over.  China, in essence, is small potatoes.  What lies ahead is also a big endeavor.  I'm rolling up my sleeves, ready to dive into another sea of predicaments whose response is "patience."  And the funny thing is, I can't wait.



three:eight:nine
"Vlog 10: This Is Sunday School"




two:twenty-five:nine
"Vlog 9: This Is Winter"




two:twenty-one:nine
"A Picture's Worth A..."
For some reason, I've been thinking about two pictures a lot over the past few weeks.  I've known songs to get stuck in people's heads, but pictures?  No matter-- these images have been stuck, both together, though for different reasons.  And here's a bit of a preview into my thought process on these images.

The first picture here is a bit obscure.  I now work in a building adjoined to a local theater, on the 4th floor.  I have to walk up all four flights of stairs each time.  It's on the third flight that there is this massive yellow poster with a lineup of many different Chinese minor celebrities.  Some look like singers, others actors, others still acrobats.  And on the bottom row of this assortment of images, no less prominently placed than any of the others, is this image here.  The quality is horrendous.  The image is really blurry and looks like it was shot with some sub-polaroid 35mm at a time that is not advantageous to the subject nor the photographer who shot the picture.  But there it sits.  This strange older man with large glasses and a long coat.  Maybe he's a famous opera singer or actor.  I'm not sure.  He may be something quite substantial in social-status terms.  But I like to pretend that this man is really just your average Joe.  Nobody special.  Just walked in and someone took a photo, and he's being honored for his keen fashion sense and his quietness.  I've been convicted over the past couple of months to lead a simple life, free from excessive attention seeking and look-at-me-itus.  So much easier said than done, and I like a good recognizing pat on the back as much as the next person.  But this image of this man keeps flashing through my head, and how of all the Glamor-Shots-esque celeb photos, his is the one that sticks out to me in its humble difference, and in a very Kung Fu/David Carradine-like voice say, "Well done, old grasshopper."


The second image is one that I took in the late summer of '06.  I had just finished an amazing road trip with my brother and a couple of great friends.  My family and I were with one of these friends and his family on a nearby beach, enjoying the Floridian lifestyle.  I went for a walk with my very big, very awkward, very manual camera, looking to snap a few shots.  On our walk along the shore, these two older gentlemen stopped me seeing that I had a camera with me.  They politely asked me to take a photo of them, fishing pole quickly laid aside, cigarette in mouth.  They quickly explained that they had been old-time friends-- war buddies, if my memory serves right-- and that they hadn't seen each other for 20 years before this day.  They didn't have a camera themselves, and they really didn't care about capturing the moment for themselves, just as long as it got captured.  This day was too great a day to go on undocumented, and was worthy of a captured memory, even if this documentation was never to be seen by either of them.  There was something inherently beautiful and celebratory about just the act of posing and taking a picture that was enough for them.  So they positioned themselves, I got them in frame, focused, and voila.  Done.  They kindly thanked me, and we went our separate ways.  But I've never forgotten that.  The reunion of those two older men make me think lots of things-- things like enjoying simple pleasures; like taking the time to commemorate and savor special moments; like realizing moments are worth capturing and recognizing their significance, in and beyond your ability to possess them in a tangible way, or beyond others sharing in that same existential experience.  It's partly why I even blog in the first place.  To capture and appreciate time.

Not sure what to make of these two thoughts, if anything.  I'm certain how they're related, if they even are.  But these pictures aren't normal or insignificant for some reason.  They beg to be looked at and considered.  Life is full of pictures, both still and moving.





one:twenty-one:nine
"Nazarite Vow"
Upon my arrival to China, I began a vow.  A Nazarite vow.  The overall purpose of such a vow is simple: to mark oneself as consecrated or separated from the norm .  It's an outward expression of the spiritual truth that I am not my own.  The vow has millennia of history.  It's outlined in Numbers 6, and is pretty much summed up by 3 don'ts:  1... don't drink alcohol, 2... don't come in contact with corpses, 3... don't cut your hair.  For some, this vow has been a life-long vow, like the once-hairy Samson.  For others it has been more focused and short term, like St. Paul.  I decid ed that my vow would last 5 months, just shy of the Chinese New Year (where culturally, cutting one's hair during the New Year festival brings bad luck).  Here's a picture showing the progression of the months from baby face to shipwrecked islander.

The vow wasn't always the easiest.  And the hardest was the not shaving.  There's definitely an itchy period one has to get through.  And when the scruff looked more like an animal around my neck, it was anything but attractive.  But it was a good thing.  It inconvenienced me a little.  It gave me purpose.  Practically, it allowed me not to jump into things and let drinking fog up my head.  I had enough "new" to deal with-- a new job, new country, new routine, new friends.  It allowed me to keep my head on my shoulders and get acclamated to things first.  But spiritually it also had a lot of benefits.  China... work... heck, living... none of these were purely for me.  All of these things found meaning in being sacrificed.

I had never grown a beard before.  I was amazed at myself at how thick and full of a beard I could grow.  And during the winter months, it helped keep me warm.  Chinese men generally cannot grow a thick full beard, and so many times the random taxi driver or corporate student of mine would be impressed.  And though part of me wanted to keep the beard going, if only for the working class males who couldn't, a larger part of me was anxious to see my own face again.  So on a Sunday evening, after classes, I went back home to shave.  I tried to skype Heather for the occasion... except that my American-bought trimmer smoked and fried, causing the electriticy to go out in my bathroom and kitchen.  I got the power back on, but the trimmer was toast.  My coworkers were waiting for me at a local Irish pub to commemorate the event with a celebratory Guiness.  So I went across the street to a Chinese salon-- my first Chinese haircutting experience.  I managed to get across what I wanted done.  And my favorite memory of that experience was a speechless five-year old Chinese boy whose mouth was agape and who was speechless as he pointed at me in amazement.  Super cute.  Well, the beard was trimmed down to just-more-than-stubble, and I joined my friends at the pub where we played some games of pool, enjoying all the things life is and sometimes isn't.

Oh, and I bought a new trimmer in a Chinese market.  All should be well.




one:twelve:nine
"Vlog 8: This Is The Zoo"
This is the last of the video footage of Heath's visit.  It's just too cute not to put up.  Though we are complete dorks.  Well, really more me than her.  But she puts herself down to my level so as not to make me feel as big of a dork.  So, I privilege you to a short guided tour of... the Tanggu Zoo.




one:six:nine
"Vlog 7: This Is Heathercise"
Each new year resolutions are made.  And each new year topping the charts is personal fitness, be it losing weight, being more active, or just toning up.  Statistics say that within a week 30% already give up and that by 6 weeks' time, only about 20-30% spur on.  We're only a week out, and I want to send some encouragement by way of tips and new avant garde methods.  So before pushing play, take a moment to grab your energy bar, elctrolyte-pumped water, sweat pants, headband, trainers, and take a 3-minute stretch.  Ok, ready?  And... go!