Grass

This is a view you don't see in Beijing. I see this every day.

A year ago I landed in Beijing, China. Before then I had stepped foot on the soil of two countries: Canada (my home and native land) and the United States. Since then I have stumbled through China, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Spain (a bit of a detour).

I chose not to renew my contract at the school despite being welcome to do so. I wanted to review my options and pursue other avenues. I arrived back in New Brunswick at the end of June with relief and joy. The pollution was not oppressive and I could see stars in the sky. It was great.

I went camping and bounced around from city to town for a couple weeks re-uniting with folks I hadn't seen in a long time. I hosted a great storytelling event at the Dooryard Arts Festival (the recording of this event will be available...hopefully soon). I have began writing and work on several projects from a novel to a screenplay to a new website(s) to a non-fiction memoir/how-to and more.

Quite productive.

Then I saw the status updates. Everyone I worked with last year were announcing their impending returns to the urban sprawl of Beijing. They were prepping their classrooms and getting ready for the year and the slew of new students. I wondered if I made a mistake.

This was unavoidable. We tend to build up the alternative options or the choices we didn't make in our minds and calculate the what-ifs. I found myself thinking that maybe the grass was greener on the other side.

Now, in a literal sense this is not true. The grass is definitely more lush in New Brunswick than in Beijing. They both have their pros and cons.

Ability to collaborate with my writing partner (Canada)
Travel opportunities (China)
Career opportunities...aka steady paycheck (China)
Air quality! (Canada)
Independence (China)
Food (China)
Family (Canada)
Car availability (Canada)
Live sports (Canada...well, I can watch the games live in the mornings in China but no beer)

I've been reading more, too.

There are more. I have friends in both places so no matter what I miss people. What I need to be sure to do is not speak or act in definite terms. I may have expressed a notion that I would never return to China or never teach again. This is not accurate, and if I had expressed that it was a mistake. Who knows what the future holds? All I know for certain is that I need to constantly be changing. I cannot settle for the same routine.

I have my projects on the go...I feel good...but there's still a nagging thought that I need to run out the door and back into the wild smoggy yonder. I imagine this may become magnified after the first snowfall and I'm out shoveling for two hours. I love mowing lawns...shoveling snow is the worst thing.

Also, this will likely be the last post on this blog other than to direct you to my new location in conjunction with a bit larger project.

Thanks for reading. Go outside. Put your phone away. Read something interesting.

Expectations

"Crushing one another with colossal expectations."

                      - Stuck Between Stations by The Hold Steady

Good God it doesn't take long for the rabble to rouse.

Not a month into the Major League Baseball season and the sky is falling for fans of the Toronto Blue Jays. It has been 20 long seasons since Canada's team has sniffed the postseason. 1992 and 1993 are years of legend. The Jays marched through the American League and won its only two championships. Since then, the team has been a disappointment. Every ounce of hope snuffed out to shrugs like it was supposed to be that way; like the Jays never belonged in the conversation to begin with; like it was a fluke.

For every Roy Halladay there was a Josh Towers. For every Carlos Delgado there was a Vernon Wells. There was never a complete roster. Attendance dropped and a fourth or third place finish became the norm, the expected finish.

When the Jays acquired Jose Bautista in 2008, it didn't turn any heads. He was a depth addition to spell the regulars when they got injured or needed a day off. He was a role player. He remained as such for most of 2009 before having a huge September mashing 10 of his 13 home runs on the campaign. He proceeded to lead the majors in dingers into 2011. How soon we forget.

With his glimpse of hope being injected into the Jays, people started getting interested again. He gave Toronto fans something to cheer for. An underdog story. Being the underdog, though, missing the playoffs was still a foregone conclusion but steps were being made. Good drafting and some savvy trades beefed up the farm system with guys like Brett Lawrie, Travis d'Arnaud, and Kyle Drabek. Some have panned out, others not so much and others have since been moved.

How soon a tune can change.

Injuries plagued Bautista and the Jays in 2012 but another under the radar acquisition, Edwin Encarnacion, thrived in his new leadership role. Then the team did something it hadn't done since those fabled days in the early 90s. General manager Alex Anthopolous made some huge moves to make the team relevant in the hunt for a postseason berth. They dealt youth like d'Arnaud, Jake Marisnick, Justin Nicolino and Noah Syndergaard for big league talent Josh Johnson, Jose Reyes, Mark Buehrle, and R.A. Dickey. Hope was restored.

Then the 2013 season began and as we hit the end of April, the Jays sit with an underwhelming 8-12 record. The world is over! Burn the whole organization to the ground. Bring me the head of Alex Anthopolous!

It's a long season, but apparently patience has given way to desperation and rage. For the first time in years, the Blue Jays were pegged to be front runners for the AL East and a rough start to the season has apparently destroyed everything. Fans are looking for scapegoats, excuses, anything to sick their teeth into and tear to shreds. It brings out the worst in people.

Some comments are relatively innocuous. A friend of mine, a hardcore Blue Jays fan, posted "different year, different players, same ole pathetic bluejays" to his Facebook. Others, like on TSN comment boards, have been more vitriolic and downright maddening. After a loss to the Yankees on Saturday, fans were calling out Bautista for his back spasms saying he is a bust and should man up and play through his injuries. They've called him a disgrace, a fraud. This is horrible. If you are suggesting someone to risk further injury to sate your desire as a fan, you are giving the whole notion of sports fandom a bad name. He does not owe you his health. If he takes the time he needs to recover and can offer a more balanced approach on the field, he will be more likely to produce the desired results. But no, play through it because the ignorant fan demands your blood, sweat and tears. Sweat, perhaps but let's not ask for him to destroy himself for our bloodlust.

"Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing," Vince Lombardi said.

The city, the country, wants a champion. This is fine, but learn to temper your expectations. Baseball seasons are long and nothing is lost after one month. The St. Louis Cardinals overcame a huge deficit in 2011 to sneak into the playoffs on the final day of the season. That team won the World Series. It shocked everyone, Cardinals fans included.

Fans want immediate results. Well, that doesn't always happen. There is a chance that this isn't the beginning of a dynasty as many soothsayers predicted. It may, however, evolve into a successful season the longer we press into it.

When the 2013 NHL season began, albeit after the delay of the strike, no one believed the Montreal Canadiens would be a playoff contender. The team's hot start and continued success brought its following out of its slumber as people started to believe. Fans on a message board I frequent were saying things like "I don't even care how this season ends, it's been a success."

That's what expectations can do. The Habs have stumbled down the stretch and any fan who has followed this team through the year can attest to the fact that it's been a remarkable ride. While an early bounce in the postseason will certainly be disappointed, it won't necessarily be a crippling blow.

With every loss the Blue Jays take, the fans are running to the hills to profess how much of a disgrace the team is. Get off your high horses and cheer your damn team through the bad times like you would during the good. That's what you sign up for as a fan, whether you like it or not. Have a chat with a Cubs fan about disappointment. That will put your pain into perspective.

Would you chastise your child's sport's team for its losses? Maybe you would, but then maybe you should take a hard look in the mirror. No, the players on the Jays are not personally known to the fans but the beauty and the beast of it all lies in the emotional connection we form with these players.

Will the Jays win the World Series? It's far too early to tell. It is clear that the team is not going to be the indestructible behemoth as it was advertised. There is time for everything to balance out. Reyes' injury hurts and only exacerbates the holes in the lineup that were glossed over in favour of focusing on hype. 

Wait it out and enjoy the game of baseball, even if things don't always turn out in your team's favour.

Disconnect

Pensive atop Parc Guell in Barcelona.

I’m trying to decide which cliché contains more truth: distance makes the heart grow fonder or out of sight, out of mind.

It’s probably both depending on the situation. Context is everything, after all. I moved to Beijing at the beginning of September 2012. It’s only been eight months away from, I guess, home. It has and hasn’t been a struggle.

Over these months, it has been interesting to watch and consider the relationships with people both in Canada and here in China. In Beijing, I’ve become friends with people who may never have crossed my path elsewhere. I’d like to think that some of these people are now lifelong friends as we have been permanently entwined in our journeys. Maybe they will be, or maybe it’s fleeting. I wonder how much of friendship is determined by personal proximity.

I am a ghost. I have been absent for many significant, and possibly minor events that have befallen my friends and family. Babies have been born. Relationships have formed and fallen. Careers have changed. I know about things tangentially and without much detail. This is no one’s fault, and I hold no bitterness. Some have reached out, and some haven’t. I have been better with some more than others. 

In class, we watched the documentary “Spellbound” about eight teenagers competing for the championship at the 1999 National Spelling Bee in Washington, DC. It’s a pretty effective, if slight, look into the lives of these youths. I did some basic digging to see what happened after the movie was released. One of the competitors died in 2007. One of them got pregnant and became a mother at age 18 only to be the beneficiary of a group of concerned citizens wanting to help her achieve her dream of going to university. She graduated university in 2008, apparently, and had the dream of pursuing her master’s and PhD in social work. No new information is available.

Another is a teacher, and even maintains a blog that shecontinues to update. They’re regular people facing regular trials that life throws at them. They likely have had people drift in and out of their experiences over time. This is one of the things I’ve been trying to communicate to my students, as they are the same age as the people in “Spellbound” were when the movie was filmed.

It’s easy to fall into the blame trap or to develop paranoia. There’s no point in wondering if you did something to upset someone, even though it’s a sensible emotional response when feeling separate from what only a few months ago was your reality. It’s also logical that as we age, we don’t remain friends with every person we’ve encountered along the way. This separation happens; it’s unavoidable.

I’m not bitter, though I will excuse anyone who interprets my mood as such. I’m nervous. I’ve been warned about reverse culture shock upon returning to Canadian soil. Will I slide back into the roles that had been established for me prior to my big move, or will things be fundamentally different? Have things really changed as much as they appear or is it all still pretty much the same?

This year has helped me strengthen my independence. Through traveling Spain alone and figuring out my new job on my own, I have grown.

I have also identified a nearly crippling fear of commitment that shouldn’t surprise me. I can’t stay still. Unfortunately, the tenuous nature of relationships when one moves around comes with the territory. Writing this reminded me of an interview with comedian Aziz Ansari as he commented on the oddities of romantic relationships. As the days press on, I am becoming more resigned to the notion that the fading glow is going to happen. I want to be there for people, but the fact is I’m not. I’m here.

Just know that I am neither writing this with tears welling in my eyes nor a scowl furrowing my brow. A wise man said it’s just a ride. The best thing we can do is find a balance between letting go and holding on.

The Band has been on a regular cycle recently. I feel nostalgic and the summer will sate some of my desires for the familiar.

“Oh to be home again

Down in old Virginny

With my very best friend

They call him Ragtime Willy

Woulda been nice to see folks

Listen once again to the stale jokes

The big rockin’ chair won’t go nowhere.

I can hear something calling on me

And you know where I want to be

Oh Willy don’t youhear that sound?”

The song Rockin' Chair is a plea for an old friend to come home. It's a beautiful song about undying friendship and the losses that accompany aging. It's been a cathartic song helping me adjust with, I don't want to say dying but, changing friendships. It gives me that needed boost to know that some of the best is yet to come even though the song is perhaps less optimistic in places.

It's ironic, too, since the Band toured nonstop for many years. The song Danko-Manuel, by the Drive-By Truckers laments the toll the road took on members Rick Danko and the angel-voiced Richard Manuel (who sang the aforementioned Rockin' Chair). 

There will be laughs and tunes and stories to share. Regardless of how distant I've become, for whatever reason, I look forward to the reconnect. 

Cheers.

Criticism

Roger Ebert, as everyone has heard by now, passed away last week. I'm a bit late to the party championing what he meant to world of cinema and writing, but that's okay. Ebert was an inspiration, even tenuously, to a ton of film nuts the world over and his passing is sad even to those who never met him. Like me.

It doesn't matter if you agree with a critic. If you take it as a personal affront when a writer dislikes something you cherish, you need to re-evaluate the situation. Watching film (and experiencing any type of art) is an intimate experience. The connection a movie can have will vary depending on the eyes and perspective angled at it. I may have been moved by Jason Reitman's Up in the Air when it came out in 2009 but that doesn't mean I'm owed the same reaction by anyone. Up in the Air worked as an example of the isolation felt in crowds. We have opportunities to make connections with others and sometimes we will have a negative impact on people, regardless of our intentions. We are all under a lot of pressure to make the right choices, to fill our suitcases with the right items so to speak. Some of us shut people out because it's easier in the short term but what are we left with when the dust settles?

Those are some of the ideas that came to me when I saw Up in the Air. Not everyone shared my love of that movie, and that's fine. If you saw that movie and did not connect to the themes of isolation or crushing disappointment when you actually do throw yourself out there only to be rejected, all I can do is explain to you what I did see. Maybe you'll give it another look. Maybe through that second look you will develop a different understanding and see something in the movie you didn't see before. Maybe you'll shake your head and ask yourself why you listened to that jackass.

Criticism is about communication, not about cutting artists down to size. Some critics may see themselves as the king of the mountain whose words of 'yay' or 'nay' can determine the value of something. I can't speak to that because a critic's words do not carry any importance in isolation. The conversation is not over when those words are printed.

This is what Ebert represented so well. While I never experienced it first hand, I've been reading stories and listening to podcasts about him and his connection to his fans and readers and dissenters. He did take the time to reply to people. He did consider what others thought. He did not apologize for his opinion. He was willing to share the experience with others without being dismissive. He may have savaged a movie here and there when he felt passionately about it (North) but he did so in a way that was equal parts entertaining and well-written.

My students are in the midst of a unit on film history. I am trying to inspire the idea that movies are about more than entertainment. This is a difficult task as many adults see them only as meaningless time-wasters. My goal is to have them think more critically about the things they see in movies. If they can analyze a theme or identify the purpose of a movie they otherwise label as boring or bad, they may develop a greater appreciation for film.

Movies were notoriously used to waste time when I was a student. We would watch a movie in class to kill time or reward us for good behaviour. Sometimes it was to accompany a novel or play we read, which at least provided a contextual connection. There were times in my grade 11 history class when my teacher asked me to provide copies of Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan to the class for our unit on World War 2. I am asking more.

Films have the opportunity to give audiences perspective on the world around us. Blue Valentine provides a glimpse into the rise and fall of a romantic relationship and the failed attempts at sealing the cracks. That is a fairly standard type of movie, but Derek Cianfrance executed it with a harsh realism that shakes the audience. It's uncomfortable and it should be. Blue Valentine, while very separate from my own romantic endeavours, forced me to reflect on the failings of past relationships. In some cases I likely washed my hands of responsibility of the disintegrations I was involved in. That movie was a splash of ice cold water in my face. Unpleasant but necessary.

I don't begrudge people who watch movies only for entertainment. They're missing out on the depth that is available to them. Sure, The Dark Knight Rises is exciting and features explosions, chaos and ass-kicking superhero action. But it is also a commentary on the effectiveness of fear as a method of control and manipulation. Looking at an otherwise easily dismissed movie in that way provides me with a greater enjoyment. It expands the conversation.

When Fargo came out on video (not DVD, we watched it on the VCR!) I hated it. I found the characters shrill and annoying. I, frankly, was bored. Nothing happened! Why is there this scene where this woman meets up with her old friend from high school where he becomes a blubbering mess? What's with the accent? Revisiting it a couple years later on CBC, I was hooked. It was all about desperation and what people do when there seems to be no way out. It's the same for Jerry Lundegaard as it is for Marge Gunderson's high school friend. Only Jerry is desperate for money while the friend is desperate for companionship. It has been a long while since I last watched Fargo, so I am not as specific about it as I could be.

The next time you come out of a movie, don't just go home or go to bed. Don't just move on. Let it percolate. Let it bubble. Think about it. Why was the movie made? What were the filmmakers trying to say? Granted, if your escapism is fueled by trips to Transformers movies you may find this exercise tiresome and unnecessary. But if you find yourself frustrated by a movie like The Master or Tree of Life, wrestle with it. It is perfectly okay if you hate it with all the fiery passion you can muster, but think of what didn't work for you. If something is confusing, talk with someone else who watched it and figure it out together. That's part of the fun. Whether you realize it or not, watching movies is a skill that needs to be developed to get the maximum experience possible.

It's not always easy, some of the work is left up to the audience and I challenge anyone who doesn't normally think that way about their entertainment to look deeper.

PS. Ebert's final review, of Terrence Malick's To the Wonder, features a line at the end that I find very poignant. I wish I wrote it.

"Reach beneath the surface, and find the soul in need."

Movies inspired him to write that. That is the power therein.

Words

I came to the other side of the world with the intention of documenting my every move as I navigated the concrete jungle of Beijing and beyond. What followed was a blog post twice monthly until recently when it has almost entirely evaporated.

I told a friend with whom I work that I hate forcing it. While I may be having a great time, and building stories to share, I don't have the drive and I don't see the interest in my daily routine. For the most part, my weeks are fairly commonplace. From Monday to Friday I tend to wake up a little after 7am and get ready for work. Some mornings I have cereal, other times I don't. Some mornings I shower, others I did so the night before; this is usually so I can negotiate a few extra minutes of sleep.

Work goes from 7:50am until 4:00pm (occasionally extended due to meetings). I teach classes to four grade 8 groups and one from grade 6. We talk, we learn, and it's both good and bad; it's like any job in that way. I come home, get supper and may go to the gym...the order is sometimes switched around. Some days I watch a movie or an episode of a television show and other times I go out and see a part of the city, though that doesn't happen as often as maybe it should.

My eyes are drooping.

The truth of the matter is that other than the obvious differences like the language barrier and mega-pollution, life in Beijing is not much different than life at home. It's an adventure and I've had better opportunities for travel -- both to Spain and Vietnam -- but the everyday existence is enjoyable, mundane, sometimes boring, sometimes insane; just like life in Canada. One welcome difference, though, is the weather is getting warmer much sooner.

The problem is that I feel like my writing chops are dulling. It's like any skill, and it requires repetition and practice. It's not quite writer's block. It's more like writer's apathy.

I think I'm trapped looking toward the future. A few weeks ago during a sleepless night (30 consecutive waking hours!) I wrote a monologue about fear. This summer, in Woodstock, New Brunswick, I will be hosting a storytelling event at the fifth annual Dooryard Arts Festival.

This is largely inspired by my love of people's stories and the words chosen to share them. Programs like The Moth, This American Life and WTF With Marc Maron have helped give me a template. The Moth, especially, has given me an example to follow. I have come up with a list of themes for people to share their stories; lost, discovery, and fear.

The monologue I wrote a couple weeks back will be my contribution to the fear theme, and so I don't exactly want to share it here. I'd rather save it for that day. My hope is people will feel comfortable, or at least willing, to open their lives up to the public -- friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers. Sharing your own personal experiences with others can be cathartic. I realize that every day or every week is not going to be possible for me on a blog because I'm more interested in turning it into a conversation; true sharing. I want my stories to be complemented by those of others in a community of storytellers. The truth is we all have stories worth telling and sometimes we just need a little nudge.

I'm hoping it will be a success, perhaps one I will be able to take around to other establishments and events. Is it a pipe dream? Maybe, but anything worth doing usually is predicated by being unsure of whether or not it will fly.


*If you are interested in participating in my storytelling event, or you would like more information, please give me an email at ratedargh@gmail.com. Thank you.

Morals

"Won't somebody please think of the children?" Helen Lovejoy shouted this anytime a moral cause was taken up in early episodes of The Simpsons. It was meant as a satirical jab at those who may be perceived to take the world too seriously. It also worked as a message to those parents and others who complained about the content of the show damaging society's moral fabric.

Living in Beijing, one might assume I don't have time to keep up with television or pop culture. Well, I am a creature of habit and obsession so to shut myself off from my stories would be unacceptable. I try to achieve a balance. Considering the recent rises in pollution, staying inside and watching movies doesn't seem like such a horrible idea.

(Aside: the pollution leaks through the windows. There is nowhere to hide!) (Second aside: Terminator 3 is on HBO at the moment. I forgot how unforgivably bad it is.)

I'm a binge watcher. The beauty and danger of DVD and Netflix is we have access to full seasons of television at our fingertips preventing the expansion of our social lives. I missed the boat, initially, on Breaking Bad but caught up through the first two seasons in maybe a week. Since then I've been hooked. I used to watch The Sopranos by season. I plowed through The Wire and Lost several episodes per sitting. It's the viewing equivalent of novelistic storytelling.

"The Edge...there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."
                                                           - Hunter S. Thompson

About a month ago I started watching Sons of Anarchy. I'm not far in, and I like it well enough, but I started thinking about the potential moral rebuking coming from viewers who believe it to be polluting the future generation. Through (very) brief searching I found two sites that provided slightly differing methods of telling parents that Sons of Anarchy is not appropriate for children.

One is quick and to the point. It goes into detail about the summary of the show and then explains in a paragraph the events that may be questionable for people under the age of 18. It does this without standing on a pedestal of outrage that such a show exists but simply acknowledges that children probably shouldn't watch a show about violent, promiscuous bikers who sell guns.

Common Sense Media paints a different picture. In the interest of fairness, the site does not gloss over the details and actually does more than the radical Simpsons haters of decades past. The problem is the site doesn't use common sense in its analysis. It's obvious that this show is not intended for children but I think they are making an error in suggesting the show "glamorizes the lifestyle of some very unlikable outlaw bikers." If you watch SOA and get a hankering to join a bike gang, there are a few more things wrong with your psychology than enjoying a television show.

If a show is inherently violent does that mean it is glamorizing it? The setting of Sons of Anarchy and the subject matter dictate that this will not be a pleasant undertaking for those involved. It is a motorcycle gang and the show does a decent job of displaying the moral conundrums and diversity the characters are involved with. There is a depth of character at work here that isn't explored at all in Common Sense Media's explanation of the show. Jax, the focal point, is not an all-the-way bad person. The show does not work in black-and-white generalities -- at least not when it comes to SAMCRO.

(So far, by season two, the rivals SAMCRO face are generic plot devices designed to provide conflict. It'd be nice if characters like Darby had a little more depth so the conflict provided a little more overall resonance and was more challenging for the viewer.)

I take issue with the assertion that the show does not feature positive role models. Or, rather, I take issue with the idea that this is important when judging a television show.

First of all, it's more complicated than simply defining positive and negative on these characters. Jax himself is struggling with the notion of becoming a father and leaving a legacy for his son. The early parts of the series focus on Jax's relationship with his deceased father through a found journal. While Common Sense Media may be right about some characters being thinly drawn, Jax is going through a fascinating series of trials and revelations. His perception of his father and the gang is evolving because of these journals. Because of his father, Jax is part of Sons of Anarchy. Does he want his son to go through the same thing? Jax isn't exactly the moral compass of the show because it doesn't deign to have one. Instead, he's a direct criticism of the lifestyle and the backwards thinking it can instill on its members. He doesn't want to kill, though he does. And make no mistake, Jax loves being part of SAMCRO because it is a family. Like with The Sopranos, and many stories about gangs, one of the overarching themes is the importance of trust and family. This is tested fairly early and regularly.

Secondly, when can we all just agree that television is not an appropriate substitute for parenting and babysitting? I think Common Sense Media has an altruistic motive and they definitely open their message up for discussion, which I congratulate. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the site doesn't seem to be on a soapbox of family values, as they do mention the high quality of The Sopranos in comparison to SOA.

Context is important. Some stories are unpleasant but that doesn't mean they aren't worth telling. Sons of Anarchy is not a perfect show as many characters are paper-thin space-fillers. When I was young, if I ended up watching something that featured violence, sexuality, strong language, etc. my parents explained the nature of it to me. They were sure to put it in the proper context so I didn't get the wrong ideas. Kids are impressionable, sure, and it is up to parents to put what they watch into proper context.

I'll continue to watch Sons, and while it will occasionally rub me the wrong way I know enough not to look to the television shows I watch as a guide on how to live my own life.

I do want a motorcycle, though. This is not a new development.

For another look into motorcycle gangs, check out Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson.

Conscious

 I don't like repeating myself. As such, I am not too keen in re-transcribing my thoughts and descriptions of my two weeks in Vietnam and Cambodia. It was a terrific time with some wonderful people (both friends and strangers). I captured my pontifications in my personal notebook, though, and that is where they will stay. Ask me and I'll share it with you, but I'm not going to run down my vacation.

Besides, nothing negative happened so it's immediately less riveting than a total train wreck would have been. Flying back into Beijing the flight attendant came over the loudspeaker in the plane.

"The ground temperature in Beijing is -11 degrees Celsius," she said.

I groaned. It's silly to complain, since I spent the previous two weeks in paradise, but it was a fairly severe shock to the system. I grumbled.

Memories will settle in and nestle their way into my subconscious. This is why we travel. It's an opportunity to see the world and build on our perceptions and experiences. Every meaningful moment, positive and negative, is a puzzle piece forming our personal identities. Mine is unique...just like everyone else.






Worse...the pollution is more oppressive than ever. The air quality index was, apparently, off the scales on Saturday. It probably set me back to day one of not smoking. Drat.

For everything new, there is something familiar. Upon returning to the frigid concrete jungle, the safest and most comfortable option is staying inside to catch up on movies and television. Hooray! From Lincoln to Django to Zero Dark Thirty, the movies of 2012 have impressed. Netflix has given me access to Sons of Anarchy, which I have put off for some time. Turn the heat on, lay back on my tiny couch and I avoid the cold. Not a bad call.

But still I am restless at times. I don't like to blog without purpose...but I also don't like leaving this space untended for too long. It's good practice to compose these posts, however aimless. I'm not Kerouac, though and stream of consciousness doesn't flow easily for me. Perhaps the more I force myself to do it, the easier it will get...like most things.

Less than a month until Spain. My mind is already there.