There are some things about bellingham that I really enjoy. It’s funny to list these things immediately after posting on the difficulty of being here, but that’s how I am.

I like being near the water, hearing the seagulls, and the train. I like the pink summer sunset. I like some of the local crazies: the man Maia and I saw disappear in the bushes after leaping into them yesterday for instance. I like recognizing tons of people, knowing them tangentially and seeing that they’re still around and enjoying themselves. I like toddlers with afros holding leashes of big but cuddly dogs. I like watching a man dance to an outdoor jazz band, his hand gripping a rolling suitcase pulling it along with his moves. I like having access to books. I like feeling how much calmer and more pleased I am with life a year later; returning makes it easy to tell the differences. I like dancing at the Royale, one of the tackiest hip hop clubs around, but doing it on a Wednesday when we’re the only ones, literally taking over the dance floor like we’ve rented the place out, then dancing like idiots, interpretive moves, runway competition, hipsters, it all. And I especially like what this homeless man said to us at the homeless people park yesterday,

“Life is a candy store and I’m out trick-or-treating!”

Also, I like showing this house to strangers that just appeared at the door like I own it, because with all of my years of history here it’s like I do.

(Wow, 3x like in one sentence. That’s equally impressive and terrible.)

I feel lost and confused and out of place now. I knew this was going to happen. I knew I was going to sway back and forth emotionally as I prepare to begin a new life. I knew it, but that knowledge didn’t magically ward it off.

It hit yesterday when I left the house for a walk. I felt self aware to a painful degree. I felt like people were looking at me, and like I didn’t belong. I thought I was going to do something wrong at every moment.* To add to it I didn’t have a goal in mind, no place to be, so I was literally wandering the streets. Not lost, but confused.

What strikes me the most is the fact that I feel watched, here, when I was just in China where people actually were watching me and very blatantly so. But I got to know a few spots over there and it felt like home by the 11th month despite the looks. Here I feel like people see me as a local but I feel like half of me is foreign. It’s frustrating and I haven’t been able to find the right words to express it yet so my friends can understand.

In the evening I went to poetry night. I felt somewhat socially paralyzed because I don’t know anyone there even though I recognize most of them. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I just wanted to watch the poetry. The guy whose room I’ll be taking in September was there and said hi. Turns out he’s a poet and drives up for poetry night every week. So I chatted with him for a minute then went back to feeling strange.

And just now I was thinking about what I’m about to do with my life for americorps and it scared me. I’m afraid of feeling trapped and the idea of beginning a year long commitment to a full+ time position is terrifying. I like to feel that I can change my mind about everything and experiment and do things on a whim, but that’s not real life? Not true, for some people it is. I do want to commit to something though, I’ve just got cold feet. Like someone about to get married. That’s how I feel about a full-time job I hardly know anything about in a place I know nothing about. It’s like an arranged marriage…

After thinking about all of that, I decided I should go on a long walk around town to feel better. But then I looked out the door and the idea of going outside actually intimidates me right now. I start thinking about how out of place I felt yesterday and don’t want to have to deal with that again. Aww damn. I’m not about to become a shut-in! I’ll just put going outside until tomorrow and be a shut-in for the night.

After poetry night yesterday I came home to movie night on the back lawn. A ton of people showed up. The movie was horrendously good, something like Man-Eating Shark vs. Giant Octupus. I laughed a lot and enjoyed it, but when it ended I ran off and went to my room. I couldn’t handle the socializing with the left over anxiety from the day.

I’m so sensitive sometimes.
But it’s also totally normal. I’m pretty sure I’ve just finally come to the spot of transitional anxiety and things are starting to get difficult. I’m feeling something completely normal for the drastic changes I’ve made and will be making. Totally normal, nothing to worry about.

And these aren’t uncommon feelings for me. Every move feels generally like this, and so far the last two were more difficult. Moving to university was hellish at first. Moving to China felt crazy, then I cried every week or so for a long time. Moving back here I haven’t broken down yet and would love not to. I’ll just walk around looking all partially foreign, stepping out into traffic to cross the road, standing a foot away from strangers, not knowing how to talk normally, afraid to buy food because it’s so expensive. That sort of thing.

Once again, I’ve got to mention that I’m feeling a nagging desparation to feel at home somewhere. I want really badly to feel completely at ease in a spot. It’s a yearning for somewhere I can hide away from this confusion and I guess right now it’s this little room with a dangling bare bulb, yellow walls, and a ramshackle loft, in this beat up old house.

Ideally it would be inside my own chest, this place where I can find comfort and ease. Or wherever the heart is.

I went to an old friend’s goodbye get together tonight. He was trying to get rid of all of his photos around the house and I got to snag a professional and mildly psychedelic photo of feet. Which is funny, because I don’t like feet.

Things are turning.

What stood out about being at his house was the fact that I was around a bunch of people I used to study art with. There’s a community of them here, but a lot are about to leave. What’s weird is walking into a room and it feeling like the last  year never existed, except that I feel differently about myself and all the people in the room so something certainly did happen. That, and being told “welcome home.” It’s like she was telling me this is my home. I never claimed it myself, she did it for me.

I do like this place.

Also, while there I had some serious de ja vu. Tripping over an already experienced moment as it happens…for the first time?

I saw Evan today for the first time. And it’s tough for me to feel like I’m fresh from China any longer because I’m not. Talking about it now is starting to feel like old news. Yet I still haven’t come up with an easy reply to “How was China?”

Multiple people I know are moving back home because they can’t find work. And are in debt. I’m lucky.

A sign that you don’t have a place you call home is not knowing where the dishes and silverware go in any kitchen. That’s me. I feel like I’ve been navigating kitchen after kitchen the past couple of months…how many kitchens? Maybe 4. Beijing, Redmond, Grants, Bellingham. It’s honestly frustrating. I’m also very used to having a suitcase visible in my room, like it’s waiting for me to pack it up again. And right now I’m not only taking clothes from one suitcase, but I’m taking food from another. I feel like living out of the backseat of a car is normal, not that different from my regular life and in a little way I’d prefer it because it’s really owning the idea of transition.

This is being young and mobile. (I really need to start driving. Maybe in a year.) And the constant movement is alright, but I’m starting to really want a spot I can call home. I want to know where to put the pots and pans and weird things nobody uses like juice squeezers and apple slicers. Except I won’t have those. I want to have a place to keep my rice and cereal. I want to have a designated messy art space where projects of clutter are welcome. I want to be surrounded by art, I want to buy mismatched dishes and mugs from thrift stores and eat from 70s patterns, I want to have a spot. I want to nest.

As things look now I’ll be living for a while in a place that won’t ever feel like home, but it will be safe and hopefully mostly comfortable. I’ll live some life and see where that takes me.

I can’t wait to have a spot though, whenever that day comes.

I was thinking about these things as I carried a couple art pieces back to the house, wishing I could start gathering beautiful things around me and not be concerned about having to move them around.

I’m having a moment I want to document.

I’m sitting with quick internet in a ramshackle kitchen with more colors than white and without concrete walls. I’ve propped the window open and the door is swung open too. I can hear a lawn mower in the distance, and I’m playing Sigur Ros on top of that. I can look to my right and see big thick leaves swaying in the light wind, sun dancing across them. And look ahead of me out another window to the crisp blue skies. I’m drinking water from the tap, and have two friends in rooms nearby still in slumber.

Summer in Bellingham just became magical to me. Deprivation can make little things absolutely amazing.

Over here in America nothing is the same. Sincerely everything you can think of is different. And it makes me feel crazy.

Either like the last near year in Beijing was one freakishly long lucid dream, or like I’m literally insane. Either way, now that I’m here, a place like that seems impossible.

When I arrived at the Seatac airport I was nervous, I’m not sure about what, but I think it was about whether I would be accepted back. The heavyset black man who checked my passport asked me how China was, and of course he would be the first in a series of people who ask the exact question I can’t answer, especially hours or days after getting back. I told him it was wild, and that getting back here is crazy. It was the best I could do. A pathetic attempt when what I should have said was “I’m losing my mind! What is America?!”

Before I go on I should say the very first awesome thing about being back was the beauty of the landscape out the plane window. Mountains that you could see, not hidden by a thick smog. No smog. Clouds made only of clean clean water droplets. Air like the crystal waters of the carribean. Trees that appear thick to the touch. Just amazing natural beauty that does exist in China obviously but not in Beijing.

The second awesome thing was the fact that the majority of people on the plane were racially different from me, but at least half of them got in the same line as me because we are all US citizens. I love that. I really really do. In China becoming a citizen is nearly impossible and so racial diversity (except amongst the 50-odd minorities within the country) is non-existent. The idea of African Americans bewildered some of the people I met. They couldn’t get it. But they are black, why are they American?!

Anyways, here are some more of the differences that make Beijing and the pacific northwest so separate. The amount of people, the weather, the individuality, the availability of english books, the costs of things, the pace, clothes, alright yeah everything.

What made me initially very very uncomfortable and immediately depressed was the lack of people. On the bus ride up from the airport to Bellingham it felt post-apocalyptic. Even inside the bus felt midly horror movie. The bus driver had the ac cranked up and blowing in our faces which made me feel a little like the recently dead being transported and preserved by temperature along the way to my grave. Hardly anyone was talking. Clearly because they were zombies. And outside there were simply no people. There were no traffic jams. Businesses were closed for the day, and I saw a few cows and horses and casinos but that was mostly it. And it freaked me out.

I hadn’t slept for a long time so the combination of post-apocalypse and thinking of family back in Beijing I cried, making the man sitting too close to me seem concerned.

But what really blows my mind about this experience so far is that I’m immediately bipolar. As usual, right? Well, this is about America now, and I’m wondering if I’m going to go through the same exact steps of culture shock I did a year ago in China. I’ve already begun the indecisive I love it, I hate it phase where nothing feels certain and I’m just confused about who I am and whether I belong here.

Probably the best idea would be to not worry over it because how am I supposed to know if I belong somewhere.

Anyways I woke up this morning to sunshine out the window and I’m thrilled to go out and be in it today. But I should just say it is winter time over here. I woke up the first night shivering a little and wore a sweater to sleep last night.

I’m happy to know that I’ve got a group of friends I can still jump back into around here for a month or two before everything changes again. They’re sweet and understand how cheap I’m being, offering me use of their bread, peanut butter, chili, and ramen so I don’t have to buy any groceries…before tomorrow at least.

I went for a run yesterday with Maryann and it was incredible. I could feel my lungs thanking me. It’s just so damn clean here.

Which reminds me, yesterday Vanessa needed to readjust her purse after we had visited the library, she wanted to stuff some books in it. So to make it easier on herself she set her purse down on the sidewalk. My body went stiff and I freaked out a little because I’m used to Chinese streets covered in layers of dirt, human pee and poop, and people’s trash. I wouldn’t so much as touch the sidewalk with my finger tip over there, so watching as she spread her things out on what I’ve come to think of as filth, I was disturbed.

I’ve been doing this thing that I’m sure everyone in my situation does where I say every two sentences, “in China such and such happens. Oh wow, well in beijing so and so such and such.”  And I can hear myself talking and it’s obnoxious. My friends two days in are patient enough to take it and say it’s actually interesting, but if I weren’t about to go on a road trip I think they’d quickly realize how annoying it will become.

I do still plan to have a get together after the trip to show people photos. I just need to somehow chose what’s best of the bunch.

This straight talk phone is great. It’s so simple and functional. Just for the record I hate 1,000 dollar phones and any phone that makes calling a person difficult.

I haven’t bought coffee here even though it’s the land of quality espresso. I can’t shell out the dollars for it. I’m sure I’ll be giving in eventually though because it tastes so good.

I could also just wait until we’re in Grants because my parents make good stuff too.

I got to speak on the phone, like an actual phone, with Taylor yesterday. His voice is different when not coming out of my computer speakers, and I’m sure it will be even more different tomorrow in person.

I stopped in at a local art store where a friend now works to say hey. He’s a cool guy that I’d like to be better friends with. And he reminded me that I should make more fabric sculptures, which is nice. It’s so nice to know that there is a community of people making and interested in art around here that I could easily be a part of. I developed that in Beijing but it was limited and stagnating because I was honestly tired of making the effort.

Mentioning seeing old friends reminds me! THANK GOD PEOPLE HERE GIVE OUT HUGS LIKE THEY’RE NORMAL, because they are and it’s the best way to greet someone or say goodbye. I was seriously deprived of physical contact for the last year. With all the public hand holding between friends that goes on and the sheer number of people on the streets, you’d think that hugs were welcome. But they really aren’t and I was in desperate need of some good hugs.

I did however give out a few forced ones to my Chinese friends before leaving. Each time though I had to warn them, “I want to hug you.” Each one would stiffen up to a plank and either hold their arms glued to their sides while it felt like I was molesting them, or they would only reach them out slightly and pat me on the back like they were gently trying to swat me off of them. So weird but so true. It’s like me with the facial kissing of other cultures. I can’t stand it. It’s too intimate. I don’t want people I hardly know kissing my cheeks all the time and I don’t want to have to do it back, so this is how lots of Chinese people feel about embraces I guess.

Too hot to handle.

Anyways there are so many things to comment on and freak out about so I should stop writing. Especially considering my readers are my parents, Taylor and Maia from what I know and I either am or will soon actually be with all of them and can use my words.

Steve and his old friend Chris were in Beijing traveling so I was helping them get around town for a few days.

It was surprising how much Chinese I ended up using, and the amount of tourist spots we went. All of those lessons I took over the last 9 or so months were finally put to good use.

First I got them from the airport which was messy because the only information I had was their arrival time. I didn’t even know where they were flying in from. So after some terminal hopping we finally found each other, then I found the bus to take us into the city. We got them settled into a friend’s apartment, then the next day the three of us went to the Forbidden City, saw Mao’s body, saw some other temples, and went to Hou Hai. That day I used Chinese for the bus, to check our bags and to order dinner. We also had a little problem solving which involved having to ask a local pharmacy if they carried a very specific medicine which I looked up the chinese name for.

Next day we went to a hospital to pick up the medication, then I went home and rested. They went off to the Olympic buildings and the Summer Palace.

Next day we met at the silk market because I was wanting to purchase some things and they were wanting sunglasses and an experience. I used Chinese to bargain for them. We also had to figure out how they could call america to open up their cards again. I successfuly asked people about it, but we ended up just using a street phone, nothing too fancy. Then we had lunch, then I bought their train tickets to Xi’an. Then I secured a way to the great wall, then asked my foodie teacher where the best peking duck is so we went there for dinner.

Then yesterday we went to the great wall. The most touristy of all the locations. I’m not sure how they felt about that, but there wasn’t much time to figure out which portion of wall they wanted to see and I only remembered the name for this one!

So I think I pretty well covered the basic vocabulary we studied helping those guys, which is funny because in my regular life over here I’ve hardly used any of it.

And it was fun spending half of my last week with them doing a lot of things I’ve resisted while living here. (for good reason-like insane crowds, boring buildings, hardly captioned museum relics that are uninteresting without them, constant soliciting, jacked up prices…but the positive is that I can now say I too have seen these places. Yes, I’ve seen Mao’s toxic orange preserved face resting in the center of a large glass room packed with plastic flowers. And yes, I’ve walked the great wall and climbed to the top of a tall hill to look out at the phenomenal view from its steps.)

So yep, I’m good.

Last night I watched another world cup match with Nic and Meng, who have become my friendship staples over here. Today I’ll return art supplies to CAI, say goodbye to those guys, maybe say goodbye to Aveleigh too, then get my last salary. And then friday I’ll tutor the twins one last time, that night I’ll probably go to dinner with a few friends, hopefully do something with family saturday, and somewhere in there buy some green tea and moon cakes.

THEN I’m done. And feeling good to be done. The alternative would be stay and have to wade my way through English teaching listings, most of which are lies, trying to find something reasonable, then finding the school with a horrendous sense of direction, and then possibly start a job that would initially and probably continue to make me insanely uncomfortable.

Flying to the states, visiting my family and old friends, starting a job that has some structure to it, knowing I can have an actual conversation with most people on the streets, eating food that isn’t stir fry, and not feeling stressed about navigating my way around a city. This sounds pretty awesome to me about now.

But I love you china, don’t be hurt by my harsh words.

It’s me, not you.

Maybe we can work something out later.

Nic, Meng and I went out to watch the world cup recently and afterward we went dancing. These are some photos from that night taken with one of Nic’s nifty cameras. Looks like Meng had a hold of the camera for a while.

I think they’re great. They make me feel nostalgic because of their vintage feel even though it was just this last Friday.

On a related note, if you’re on facebook and see that I’m married to Meng don’t you worry for one minute because it’s just a symbol of our friendship. I’m holding out for a relationship with you know who, and anyways Meng is a little too homosexual for me.

Beijing is suddenly much bigger than I felt a few days ago. With Steve and Chris, we reached a tall spot in the dead center of the city yesterday and looked around us at a view that was really a sea of buildings you couldn’t see the end of. And it’s a bizarre feeling to recognize how little I know about this place once out of the patterns of the life I’ve been living here. They kept asking me about random buildings around the city and of course I didn’t know what any of them were.

I also tend to put myself in the place of the people I’m around subconsciously, so hanging out with a couple of tourists made me feel like a tourist. It was conflicting though because I strongly dislike tourist activities especially at peak times, so part of me hated it and part of me enjoyed the novelty through their eyes.

Taking on their perspective also makes leaving feel very natural and ever since I picked them up from the airport I’ve felt more excited to leave.  Just being at the airport opened up the door to a desire for travel and the realization that I will be doing it in less than a week myself.

Also, I’m not gonna lie. The humid heat is something I’m excited to escape too.

I packed today to get a feel for what I’ve got. Not bad. I’m planning to leave paintings whether or not I have a show because I don’t want to take them off the stretchers in the end and J&S are awesome for offering to hold onto and move them around with them.

The things I’ve purchased are small, and I only bought a few shirts in terms of clothes. Other clothes are falling apart so I’m leaving them behind.

I’ll be meeting Taylor 3 days after I arrive, which could make things easier for us and general coherency in light of my jet lag. We’ve planned to meet at a spot in the Seattle area, and it’s a little adventurous because he’ll still be on the mountain out of phone range while I begin my journey down to meet him. It’ll be fun, like serendipity but with lots of previous planning.

Then we’ll spend a day sorting out things for the trip, then spend the evening with his family, then start our way to New Mexico. This is the plan, and I think it’s a great one.

Then it looks like I will probably be back in Washington for a week or so, then back in NM, then back to Washington to figure out where I’m gonna live. Finding an apartment sounds stressful, but it shouldn’t be terrible. I just need something close to public transport or in Mt.Vernon, and with people who aren’t evil or very obnoxious, and rent that isn’t very expensive.

There is so much. So many thoughts running through my mind, so many exciting things, so many worries, so many practicalities, so many adjustments, so many people to see, so many people to leave, so many people to meet, just so much. And it feels very complicated right now because I’m looking to the couple of months ahead and cramming everything that is going to happen during them into one big clump in my mind. This huge clump that will all happen at once, when really it’ll be nicely spread out, like butter on bread.

I’m so ready for the butter.

Something I enjoy about being a woman is the fact that when a group of us get together, we quickly become a support group trying to help one another and lend advice.

Maybe that’s not always the case, but more often than not it really is.

Today for my last Chinese class there were 3 other students, all female, and my teacher, also female. We studied 5 words or so, then just chatted away the rest of class. It came out that one of the girls has a boyfriend who as she describes is not such a good guy. He lies, gets angry often, and she supports him financially. She’s from Uzbekistan and works as a professional belly dancer, and she’s friendly, beautiful, obviously talented, and self-sufficient. But she’s terrified of being alone as she said herself.

It was heart breaking to hear her saying that she wants to break up with him but doesn’t feel she can, while each one of us urged her to do it as soon as possible. Trouble is they’ve been together 4 years so there is a love there. There isn’t however a compatibility or a basic equality (from how it sounds.) She cries every day because of him for goodness sake. They moved here together which makes breaking up that much more difficult.

We were getting all sorts of advice from our teacher who married a couple of years ago. Things like character is the most important, responsibility second, money or ability to make it third. She told us about a man she used to date who was very rich but sounded like a complete jerk. He would get angry with waitresses, or any other person working customer service. He would belittle her in front of her parents, crap like that. Her mom said she wouldn’t be her daughter any longer if she married him, which in light of descriptions of him, I think was a constructive threat.

I sometimes wish I weren’t so fascinated by relationship talk because I feel like I’m just fulfilling my role as a 20-something year old girl. But that’s just the way it goes.

I hope to never feel dependent on a guy. That’s a scary thought. I also hope to never be with someone who yells or who has a temper. I can’t really stand being friends with people like that. I wouldn’t last a week in a relationship with daily fights. Bickering drives me insane too. I could absolutely never be with someone who lies to me or anyone else. These are basics and I can’t imagine ever beginning a relationship with someone like that.

It’s just really sad to hear about people who aren’t happy in their relationships but continue them. I’m probably naive, like I am about lots of things, but the purpose of a relationship should primarily be for support and bring happiness to both people. I sound like a 5 year old. But it should be that simple. If it isn’t a source of something positive, forget it. You can be happy on your own.

I think this girl needs a better support system, her own friends, a more aware family, to know that she deserves better.

On a completely different note, I miss the rest of my family. I usually see everyone about once a year. It’s getting close to the year mark since I’ve seen Shaun, Alisha, mom and dad, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to see them all this summer. We’re only about a medium-sized family, but we’re scattered without a central location so it’s complicated.

And on another note, I was reading about a man with Alzheimer’s this morning. He wrote a couple of books about his personal journey while the disease progressed. I read excerpts and they were wrenching. I want to read the books, but I’m afraid they could make me extremely sad. After reading a few paragraphs I was balling.

But my grandmother has Alzheimer’s and I would like to attempt understanding what she’s going through.

Today we were talking about the way western corporations have opened up shops in other countries and are deciding to bring in more local designs for the interiors, cups, etc. as well as selling local or local-inspired foods.

For instance, starbucks sells cups with Asian patterns and during the moon festival sells moon cakes, and during the dragon boat festival (right now) sells zhong zi, these triangular glutenous rice wads with stuff in the center wrapped neatly in a bamboo leaf.

KFC sells Chinese bing, or pancakes, but really they aren’t pancakes, it’s just the only translation for bing.

My teacher said she thinks that because of these changes to the original menu “KFC grandfather is angry!”

Other than friends and family, the other thing I’ll miss equally are all the bizarre things said here, and my teacher.

I ran into a couple that moved here some months ago. They’re no longer feeling the excitement of being here and have passed into the frustration phase, the wait a second i’m gonna be here a while phase. And I wouldn’t be surprised if on their summer vacation visiting home they’ll decide to move back because he can’t find suitable work and I’m sure it’s frustrating after having completed a Master’s. But if they stick it out, another phase should come along where they feel more settled, used to things, enjoying some, being okay with others, having friends and places they like.

Although, my settling phase is kind of a big lie because I’ve enjoyed my time here the past few months mostly because I knew when I was leaving.

Some little things like waking up periodically through the night from the absolutely constant noise of the inner city would drive me 100% more crazy if I didn’t have that ticket. So thank goodness.

But oddly I can also honestly say I’ve fallen in love with this city.

Today I found a large bottle of beer in the kitchen. I was baffled because this is an alcohol-free home. I asked Sebrina why it was there and she was equally confused. Apparently ayi wanted to cook with it. Unfortunately there’s no interesting story to go with that one, but you know, there could have been.

Did I mention Steve is coming to Beijing? He’ll be here a couple of days only, and I’ll probably only see him one day because I should be tutoring, but that’s pretty cool. It’ll be interesting to hear his first impression of China.

This song rocks my world. I was dancing in my room today and this song came on, then I remembered a year or two ago it came on the radio just as a friend was arriving at my apartment and I mildly flipped out as he walked in because of the song. It doesn’t matter how many people talk crap about George Michael, because I think this man produced gold.

It still surprises me how much I’m affected by what people say and the way they say it. When I was talking with the couple I mentioned earlier they were asking about my plans. I told them I’ll be doing americorps and the guy was really positive about it, saying that’s great. He knew someone who had difficulty with it because he was doing manual labor, and so on. But just hearing someone say that’s great actually makes a huge difference.

I can only feel so sure about my decisions by myself so it helps to hear some positivity from someone. And other people I know here seem disappointed that I’m leaving which is sweet of them, but it makes me feel guilty.

I may have an opportunity to show my paintings in Beijing a second time. It would mean leaving them here, because they’d be up for a month and I’m only 10 days from leaving! I’m cool with that, and J&S are fine with keeping them. I’ll tell you more if it works out.

I was reading books with madison, then wanted to take her photo so I took the camera out. She refused and commanded that she take the photos. So I ended up the assistant on a documenting project. She wanted a photo of each page of a series of books. It went on for a while. I have proof to show you later.