Life, love, and what happens after...

Soundtrack: The Only Moment We Were Alone -- Explosions in the Sky

When I first came to China, I was in the midst of a long distance relationship.

He was my high school sweetheart. Probably the most complicated character in the first chapter of my life. The antagonist. Maybe, just a dream of sorts. My best friend. The person who knew me best at my very worst.

Our relationship… was one of those messy situations that came about after almost four years of being off and on, hot and cold, loving and hating, and god knows what else in between (the sheets).

Knowing that the likelihood of us staying together was minuscule, wishing we hadn’t fought all summer, and making impossible promises; we put a blindfold on and approached the edge of the cliff. And instead of flying, we swan dived. It wasn’t a surprise to either of us. Like jumping into the quarry back home.

And yet… hitting the water, there was still a sharp intake of air as I sliced into the icy darkness. The immediate shock that releases itself into pain. My eyes sealed shut, as I focus on the pounding in my ears. The pressure. From the speed at which I fell, combined with the water consuming me – driving out all rational thought. My breath, lost. A sense of weightlessness that comes with being underwater. The space around me, attempting to right itself. Instinct taking over as I flailed my way to the surface. I found myself alone, surrounded by an immense expanse of water, the sky above me, the cliffside towering behind me.
Did I jump in by myself? I wonder.

In the end, we just didn’t know how to grow up together.

Handling a broken heart by oneself in a foreign country, on the other side of the world, with a 12 hour time difference, and poor internet connection -- is not highly recommended. Your best friend isn’t a phone call away and everything familiar and comfortable will seem out of reach. A hug is hard to come by. And a pint of Ben & Jerry’s? Completely impossible.

Which is why I didn’t deal with it. At all.
I rebounded.

Fruit -- and things that look like it.

I have dragonfruit for breakfast, freshly cut pineapple during lunch, and snack on fresh mangos all day. But sometimes...when I'm daring (or just bored) -- I try out whatever fruit I've never had/seen/tasted/heard of before in the States. Usually hit or miss -- but always delightfully colorful.



There's a game I like to play here in China. It's called "Guess what."

Guess what this fruit is...

in Chinese?
in Thai?
in English?
in Vietnamese?

This particular fruit -- I found it in Chinese is called "甜瓜" which translates to "sweet melon".

What is that you ask?

I'm not very sure myself. A slightly less sweet version of a honey dew melon -- that sweats a translucent orange, much like the color of a topaz...

As fun as it looks, looks can be deceiving. Not nearly as sweet as its name, and entirely too heavy to have for a snack. When put in a Thai dessert it's passable as a dessert.

I miss peaches and plums from the States. But...

I'll miss having kiwis, lychee, durian, dragonfruit, small oranges, pomegranate, mangoes, pineapple 等等 -- all for ridiculously low prices. Why can't I have all of that in Massachusetts... Cheap, exotic, fresh fruit. One of the many reasons why I love living here. :)

whether the weather will whatever

The wind breathes warmth into my room, foreshadowing temperamental thunderstorms that have yet to come. The door to my balcony is wide open as I wait for the weather to make a decision.

The weather has decided to adopt the ‘Japanese horror-film’ version of suspense – the slow build up with no ultimate climax. The atmosphere – constantly heavy. You feel your breathing becoming labored, because of a constant pressure on your chest. It's psychological, don't worry. If you’re not paying close attention, time drags you to no ultimate destination.

I take my time walking into my room and then out again onto the balcony, adjusting to the noticeable difference in temperature.

Should I wear a sweater? It’s cold in my room even though I’ve left the door open all day. But…I can’t bring myself to do it, despite my discomfort. I think it’s as ridiculous as wearing a sweater in the summer because the AC is turned on high – while people outside are dying of heat.

The sky has been brushed grey and the air weighs down on me -- a sigh barely escapes my lips. I want to stand on my balcony and watch as people walk by, but my neighbor is out on his balcony… and hypocritically enough, I hate when people watch me people watch. Watching people people-watch.

I should go for a run. Or stop typing. Focus on work? Translate a few poems for fun. Read the Murakami book I’ve had bookmarked halfway but haven’t touched in two months. Study Chinese. Finish my stupid essays. Start my Chinese essay. Review my Modern Chinese chapter.

I don’t have a point to this post. I’ll save you the headache of reading my thoughts and stop here.

Life Advice of the Month

[11:49:58 PM] Jesse Hou: just remember Tc
[11:50:02 PM] Jesse Hou: marry a middle eastern, eastern african
[11:50:04 PM] Jesse Hou: so your kids
[11:50:08 PM] Jesse Hou: can be the most racially diverse ever

我是美国人

Walked into a bookstore the other day.

Imagine. A stranger approaches me – and proffers a pamphlet.

I look down… it’s an advertisement for one of the many English programs that can be found across China. Learn English in 30 days. Prepare for the IELTS, the TOEFL, the BEC, or whatever English proficiency test that is currently offered in an attempt to rape your savings. I laugh a little at the situation. Offering an American, English classes… this happens way too often. I can’t blame them – I’m not exactly their idea of a stereotypical American. One, I’m not white. And two, I can speak Chinese.

“不用” I tell him. I was born in Texas and grew up in Massachusetts. Really, now? Of course I don't need it.

He keeps following my friends and me around the bookstore. We’re browsing through HSK study materials, and I can’t hold a decent conversation with my friends as he keeps asking us questions.

“我们都是外国人,” I state, in hopes that he understands that English proficiency tests are the least of our worries. My annoyance is creeping into my voice.

“外国人也需要学英语. 看一下吧,” he replies. Damn, I forget sometimes that I look Asian. He thinks I’m Korean, Japanese, or from some Southeast Asian country. I look Asian, like everyone else. And for everyone else, English is required as a second language (except for Koreans?).

“其实，我是美国人 -- 我真不需要。别打扰我门吧。” My patience is wearing thin, and I usually don’t offer the fact that I’m American unless absolutely necessary.

He looks at me incredulously. I grew horns and a tail in the last few moments, apparently. “什么?你不是美国人 –敢说这样” I can imagine his thoughts. I immediately regret telling him I’m American. I should have just said that I was Japanese or Korean and gotten this conversation over with. I silently pray that he doesn’t ask me to prove it somehow. Am I supposed to always carry around my passport? Then I hear it--

"不会吧。那, 你用英语说话。给我听一下吧" Goddamnit. Every. Single. Time. Fine, whatever.

English it is, “I really am American. What do you want me to say to prove it? I grew up near Boston, Massachusetts and I’m here for the year to learn Chinese – not English. Could you leave us alone now?”

His eyes widen. It looks like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or even how to reply. He’s a little shocked – 惊呆了. I think to myself, “He finally gets it.” A wave of relief washes over me. I smirk, satisfied with his reaction.....

“骗人-- 你的发音不标准呀！听不懂。怎么告诉我你是美国人？你应该考虑我们的英语课"

My face drops.

The same expression that you’d have if you had the wind knocked out of you -- or just heard news about your ex getting married – or if you found out your friends stranded you with the ugly one – or discovered that someone’s been talking shit behind your back? – graced my face. The “are-you-fucking-kidding-me?” face -- as I like to call it.

I was just told by a Chinese guy that my English is terrible. I can’t possibly be American. As far as he knows, I’m a liar.

I give up.

I’ll just speak French next time and tell people it’s English.