(Written 9/5)

CYBIL

I’m a woman. I’m allowed to have my psychotic mood swings. It’s not that I “feel things more than other people” (I once heard a woman explain herself like that and, dear god, she needed a fork through her forehead; Christ, who hasn’t almost died from a broken heart?) but rather that I think I’m less well equipped to avoid my feelings. I feel what I feel when I feel it and I feel the broad spectrum. I feel it, I compartmentalize it and then I let it go. It’s part of my “charm,” you know, one of those quirks that people at first find charming but then just find irritating? I’m not proud of it but it is what is and there is little I can do about it. However, my mother and I were talking about said mood swings and she called them my “resilience. You have no support system, are being treated like a native teacher and still you’re managing.” Normally, I think of it as my schizophrenic personality but when a woman like the Jude (who fully believes it is a mother’s duty to give her child her honest and critical perspective on her child’s flaws) describes you as “resilient” it might be time to rethink the harsher label.
Schizophrenia or resiliency aside, I’m now happy as a clam at the potential in my world.

All my kvetching about my needs not being met aside, today (Tuesday September 5, 2006) is literally the first day in which I have seen blue sky. In other words, today is gorgeous and glorious. I wish the culture shock would hurry up and be over so I could fully enjoy the beauty sooner.

This week, on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, I don’t have classes so I was indulgent and lollygagged around the apartment in my pajamas in the morning. I watched the sunrise over the mountains from my balcony and sat on my window bench, being languid in the sun and watching Sex and the City (which, it occured to me, is probably pornographic contraband here in PRC, so I kept the volume low… and it also occurs to me that I would give up the opportunity to violate Hugh Jackman for that complete series set they have as I’ve only got the first three seasons). It’s amazing how that show has evolved in my head as I’ve grown. Having known a few people who worked on the show, I know the stories behind many of the plotlines and I’m impressed by how they spun the universal truths into such a fluid and organic narrative that feels totally authentic. It is really nice to have such a keepsake of home in such a beautiful but foreign locale.

For the first time, I can see the mountains surrounding the city and damn, they are high. I’ve literally never seen mountains rise so high. I have no idea their elevation but in comparison with my 5th floor elevation, they’re wicked high. There must be a fierce fault line running around near here. Off the left side of my balcony and over the tops of the nearby buildings are the mountains and now the sun is setting to the far right, lighting up the sky and the compound in brilliant pinks and oranges. The blue and pink contrast of sunrise and sunset is so dear to me that I had the colors permanently etched into my skin within my first tattoo. The waning moon is big and bright and rising in full view of my balcony. The moon is the constant reminder of the permanence of cycles and so to see it now is a wonderful blessing. It is yet one more opportunity for me to believe the universe is conspiring to get me through the rough patches. Spirituality aside, according to my natural guides, my balcony faces South, putting me on the Northeast corner of the compound. I think I can handle that.

On my way to classes this afternoon, I spied a woman rollerblading around one of the beautiful oriental parks in this compound. (The compound is littered with muses, promenades and patios to hang out in.) The poor thing looked rather wobbly on them but she seemed to be having a good, determined time. I didn’t get a chance to look at her face but as I’m the only friggin' Westerner in the compound, it didn't occur to me to check. Though, in retrospect, I should have consciously recognized the determination instead of merely felling its kinship. (The determination of an individual for the goals that serve the individual, especially for females, is unheard of here. In that sense, I am the epitome of a Westerner.) I passed her by thinking, "Be careful sweetheart, don't break your butt." I smiled at the thought of her determination to do someting new so publicly and wished her well.

"Hello! Um, hello?" a Western voice rang out from behind me. It took me a minute to place the sound, though her voice did tug at me like a long-forgotten lullaby. Curious at the inquisitive sound and no response, I turned to see if it was for me. I hasn't been so far but you never know, right?

The woman on rollerblades had a Western face and was looking directly at me. I nearly lept out of my skin for the excitement. "Please don't be a tourist" I begged silently.

"You speak English, right?" I nearly wept at the sound of her using "right?" in lieu of "yes?"

"Yes! Hello!" I was tempted to deeply kiss the wobbly woman.

"Do you live in the compound?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Yes, you're the English teacher, right? Wendy told me about you. I live here too."

We spoke for a little while. Her husband is French while she is Brazilian and she lives here in the compound, two buildings down from me. We made a date for me to go to her house on Thursday morning and she's going to introduce me to a Chinese tutor. She was so warm and kind and I left wanting to desperately hug her goodbye but I resisted for fear of being a bit of a needy freak. After all, she is not currently employed and her husband is not Chinese, which means he must be employed. They must be tapped into the international scene here and the last thing I need to do is scare away my first solid connection to my Western world here.

Hallelujah! Here is where, if I had some, I would crack open a bottle of champagne and toast to my day of gifts from the universe.