(a slightly sanitized version of a diary entry) Experience robs me of hope and then returns it anew. I am reminded by love that I am a two time loser. It makes me sad and angry and angry and sad when someone tells me I failed my first wife since I abandoned the marriage. And then her illness got worse and then she died. Died while I was on my honeymoon with wife number two who when the news broke told me “you deal with this”. ...
I’m on the subway on my way home from work and my brain feels fuzzy. It’s been a hard week but not as hard as it feels. I check my wechat moments and see my ex is at the airport board in hand, ready for a weekend trip. On her other hand is a man which upon closer inspection looks to be her boyfriend. While I know she has a boyfriend, it’s been hard to tell from the pictures which one he is because she has her arms around so many. But this picture is different for the man has that boyish look of holding his woman. ...
Since I wrote Thought on Turning 50 I’ve had a few more thoughts which I guess is a good thing. At least the brain is still active. Some of my thoughts are direct results of experience. The experience of how my knees feel in the morning coming down the stairs. The experience of having a millennial co-worker see a picture of me from seven years ago and exclaim “wow, you were so young”. The experience of waking up on Sunday morning alone and spending the day alone. The experience of playing basketball the previous sunday with my 13 year old son. The experience of wondering if I should put sunblockt on the spot that has appeared on my head or if I should just avoid escalators. The experience of being the old guy at work. ...
The moment of peace finally came Sunday night after dinner when I was listening to “Bears” and cleaning the kitchen. It certainly wasn’t there on Friday when I heard of Prince’s death. Not because I was all that huge of a Prince fan, it had just been one of those days following another one of those days. I went to the only spice authentic mexican restaurant in Beijing for dinner and had tacos even though it was a perfect night to sit on the street and have chuanr. After tacos we moved next door to a brew pub. This brewpub is notable for catering to mostly Chinese and while it was packed we were the only two foreigners there and by the time I got the Baby IPA a third joined the fray. I told my friend that Prince had died and he was shocked which surprised me a bit. We are of the same generation but he never struck me as a Prince kind of guy. He asked the waitress to play some Prince but she had never heard of him. I opened up a music app and showed her. Still no recognition. A few minutes later I was plugging my phone’s headphone jack into their sound system and Purple Rain filled the room. I left my phone there with the rest of his hits queued up and returned to the table. ...
Loss is a bitch. I am sitting across from my dad in Pacifica at one of his favorite coffee and bakery shops. It is one of his favorites because he can order a small coffee and they don’t charge him for refills and because the dutch crunch rolls are really good. And cheap. He slices open said roll and starts to jaggedly spread butter onto it with a plastic knife. He looks up. I comment that there are a lot of old timers in this place. He says “yea, always the same guys” and then he breaks into tears. He raises a hand to his lips. “I miss your mom so much”, he says. He apologies for his grief. I say there is no need to apologize, that I understand. Barely audible he says, “I know you do”. ...
I am running along the 2nd ring side road into a slight breeze. Compared to yesterday my legs are heavier and the air is heavier. I move one through the sloth and my brain joins me by going back in time. My distinct early grammar memories are few. Getting picked on mercilessly in kindergarten until the end of the year when one of the bullies was also transferring from public school to catholic school. Becoming engaged to a pretty girl in 2nd grade (later she would become a stunning adult and me a stumbling one). Skipping 3rd grade math because I did well on some kind of standardized test. And being sent to speech therapy. ...
My epiphany is: Life is better when you are not an asshole. This came to me while dining with my two daughters on the deck of a Mexican restaurant facing the Andaman sea. I had been to this restaurant twice before, two and five years ago and both times left feeling ripped off by the bad service and overpriced mediocre food. I’m not sure why I even suggested we go there that night except I knew the girls would want to go for our western meal of the day and I preferred mediocre mexican food over pizza. There was nothing really better about the food or the service, except the it was better. After a few minutes focusing on my 6 and 11 year olds, the food they wanted and the banter they wanted, the realization hit me. Everything was better because I let go of the frustration and that enabled me to enjoy the moment. ...
(Some ramblings of an expat; someday I’ll get my act together and maybe write this for real.) I’ve lived in Beijing for almost 11 years. I do not read Chinese. I do not speak Chinese. I can understand little spoken Chinese. I’ve tried off and on to learn. Languages comes hard to me. I am an introvert and don’t really speak that much in English. In fact, my English has gotten worse since I’ve moved here. My main motivation to learn Chinese would be have a decent response to “how’s your Chinese” question I get from Chinese and foreigners whenever I first meet them. ...
On this night when the dream comes I am sleeping in my Dad’s basement. I feel the force approaching and my spirit moves to the window and then back to the center of the room and then into the other room. A garage. Not a garage. Whatever I am feeling approaching, whatever it is, scares me, It’s coming for me and when it gets me it won’t be pleasant. It must not get me. My spirit then appears on the hills across the street, looking down. I turn, float, up the fire trail and then I am back in the room and the force is gone. For a moment. In the next moment I am in my neighbors back yard, outside, not wanting to go inside. The force is not so near but I feel it. And then I am back in the room again. The force coming. ...
I get home from work, turn, lock the door and put my bag down. I should really pack for tomorrow and then do something “fun” or “productive” since that is what that little fucking voice in my mind is telling me I should do. But I sit on the couch instead. And I turn on the tv not to watch tv but to watch netflix and youtube. I watch for a bit and then I don’t want to make the time commitment to another episode of OITNB no matter how good it will be. ...