INTERMISSION

I've written and rewritten this entry for a couple of weeks now. So many things keep happening and I find it too difficult to encapsulate it all into a single analysis. I guess I can't and so I'll just relate the broad strokes to you as the unfolded. There's no real "story" here, complete with a beginning, middle and end because, well, it's just my life. It seems to defy encapsulation for me. And, as Utta Hagen once said to her student when she told him to be more passionate about a scen and he responded with "Oh, I get it. You want 'larger than life'." she replied, "My dear, there is nothing larger than life."

At the end of July, a lovely couple came to stay with me. I did not know them and they did not know me. They remarked, on several occasions, how kind it was for me to open my door and allow them to stay in my home. It wasn't until the first time they made such a comment that it even occurred to me that I might not have offered a place to stay. They are, after all, friends of my great (and I mean "great" in both familial description as well as genuinely fabulous) aunt and of similar minds. The only reason I had not offered my place to stay after our first email exchange was that I wasn't sure my guest room would be open and I needed to run the idea by the Jude to make sure it wasn't an inappropriate gesture as I have never before been in the position of being able to offer residence to people I'd never met but with whom I felt a kinship of sorts. Once the Jude assured me it was not an inappropriate gesture, I offered and they accepted.

It was one of the best things I've done in China. I got to hear stories of the rest of China and I got wonderful company. They were highly respectful of my schedule and simply a pleasure to have around. She was a ball of silly, wonderful fun coupled with such a fantastic ability to roll with the punches. It was heartening to be around another woman who lacked such marked fragility as the women I am surrounded with. It was such a relief not to have to be concerned about my female company and her emotional fragility. In short, I not only didn't have to mother her but in an utter inversion of what I have been experiencing here, she had quite a lot to teach me about what I value most in feminine strength, kindness and perseverance.

And he was simply lovely. Given the relationship I have with my own father, I am always a bit uncertain about the friendships I have with men older than myself. I worry about the men I am (platonically) attracted to and my own judgment about such matters. Familially speaking, wonderful men surround me however, I did start off with some less-than-stellar lessons and so every once and a while my supremely bad judgment crops up. Not true in this case. There was the element of my mother's father that exists in every man I adore in my family; the element of a quiet man set upon astute and kind observation. Frankly put, no one has made me consciously think more about my perspective on my time here than he. And, he didn't do it with a lot fanfare It simply came through in quiet moments.

They were a breath of fresh air I didn't consciously realize I needed. I found myself entirely unedited and pieces of myself that have verbally atrophied (I can still write about them but there is no one here with whom I can share significant pieces of myself verbally) were awoken. For the first time in a year, I was challenged by the questions being asked. Seeing the two of them together, seeing the two of them in the flesh and seeing how much they seemed to like being around me reminded me that there is a world (small though it may be) of people of like mind and that I belong there. She reminded me of a world where women can take care of themselves and he reminded me of a world where men can see the full spectrum of the things I value. They brought a lovely bubble of home into my little vacuum and I am forever grateful for that.

There are no witty anecdotes to sum them up and no astute observations to typify them. It was the broad spectrum of their entire time here that I value and there is no one moment I value more than another. The were all priceless to me. I hope that we will be life-long friends.

And then there is school. I was clearly placed in the only class they had and it was way too advanced for me. I did my best but was irretrievably behind the other students who had all been studying for at least three years in an academic setting and even longer in a personal setting. However, now that they were all in China for the first time, it suddenly became summer camp. Korea, not long after our "You're very Asian" encounter, soon revealed himself to be entirely too frat boy-ish for my taste. In a few years I have no doubt he will be a lovely and wonderful boy but he is in dire need of a good, life ass kicking. He's too obsessed with people liking him and the drama of being the cookie-cutter, good-looking bloke as women duke it out around him. He's a dreamboat but he's also a man you would never be alone with, even if it was just the two of you. He is attracted to the girl who only wants the validation of being wanted by the boy all the girls want. And, after I spent one night out with the group in a club, it became abundantly clear that the boy I would make a total ass out of myself over (the sensitive, thoughtful, steady, 19-year-old, half-German/half-Chinese lad) were I young enough was not romantically valued by anyone except myself. So, socially, I knew I had nothing in common with the soap opera unfolding of unrequited hormones and masochistic, twenty-something drama for drama's sake. Which meant the only thing I would be getting out of my class was the academic work.

Unfortunately, the first teacher had had enough of my fellow summer campers and decided to focus on me and teaching me almost to the exclusion of the rest of the class. She became so focused on making an example of me in front of the whole class that I simply skipped her last day of class because it became untenable to constantly have, "I just want to audit the class because it is WAY over my level" constantly ignored. Then, the second teacher, a much more serious teacher, followed suit. I had explained that I wanted to audit and wasn't able to fully participate as the class (on the whole) significantly above my level. Apparently, my levels of honesty were a bad thing as she quickly decided (within the first hour of class) that she should teach, shame and punish me to the exclusion of the rest of the students who all showed up at least a half hour late to her first class. The first day of that class was the first day I've ever tried to write Chinese and so, bright as I may be, two weeks of class is not going to cover the at-least-three-years-of-reading-and-writing the rest of the class has on me.

None of that seemed to matter to the new teacher and I was the first one she called upon to do any reading or writing exercise. Now, I've been a teacher in China long enough to understand that this tough love is considered a sigh of great affection from a Chinese teacher, however, I was there to learn and simply could not with the constant barrage of, "Wrong. Class, what did she do wrong THIS time?" Frankly, it got so bad even my socially inept classmates simply stopped responding to her questions to open up her berating of me. Tough love teachers simply shut me down. I am unable to function in a "tough love" classroom if I am granted no respite. And, this started to damage my ability to speak Chinese. I lost more Chinese taking that class than I learned. The confidence that class killed makes it difficult to go out in the morning and simply do what I've always normally done. So, as I caught myself making excuses and hedging my lifestyle simply to avoid speaking Chinese because the class made me feel stupid, I decided to quit. Frankly, I am the only person who can take care of me here and the last thing I need is to be housebound with agoraphobia.

And the day I quit, I was invited to a party.

I have made a lot of friends in the French contingent of Xi'An. In fact, none of my close foreign friends here speak English natively. Most of them speak French and a few of them speak German. One of my favorite French men invited me to his and his Chinese wife's home for a party with their other friends.

And then I realized I have grown into my age. I was at last at a party of similarly aged people (for the first time, not significantly older) with whom I felt comfortable socially.

As the party began, I noticed I was getting a bit of extra attention from a new Xi'An arrival. He was boisterous and there with his beautiful girlfriend but none of that seemed to stop him from constantly looking to and speaking with the more subdued me. At first I thought nothing of it and figured it was merely a social boy being social but after a while it became clear I really was getting extra attention.

A bit of the way through the party and after two sets of couples were there, a third showed up (always couples here!). We were all chatting when the new couple entered. The woman was a fireball, instantly the "life of the party," and the only other American there. She was everything I dread about being at a party with women my age; she was loud, confident in that naive 20-something way, overtly sexual and non-stop. She is the archetype that walks into a party and instantly has all the men captivated while the rest of us mere mortal females seem to vanish into the background. I was certain at her arrival, this attention I was being lavished with would evaporate.

However, it was not so at this party. She showed up, was her fiery self and none of the men much noticed. Everyone was lovely and social with her but she did not captivate the room the way I am accustomed to seeing. In fact, the lovely French man lavishing me with attention and with whom I would most certainly have gone home had his girlfriend not been in existence, did not miss a beat with me. My platonic interest for the evening acknowledged the fireball within the limits of propriety but kept his eyes on me the whole time. Whenever he had a free moment, he found his way to me to talk and towards the end of the evening clearly settled himself down with me for a long discussion. It was the first time in a very long time I had the very clear message that while he was absolutely physically attracted to me, he was most interested in my conversation. Granted, he is one I can never be alone with for obvious, messy reasons but the affirmation that he wanted to be with me above all others was really lovely.

Frankly, it made me miss Bill. My platonic interest was quietly aggressive in seeking out my discussion and unwavering in his pursuit of me the way Bill had been. In spite of myself and in spite of the clear message of not contacting me during his most recent trip here, I missed Bill most acutely at that party. I was reminded of a lesson in my introductory art history class about the importance of what is missing from art. Often, the absence of a single thing that would fit best within an image is stronger than the foregone conclusions of its presence.

I am insufferable sap.

I missed that about me.