by Hari SeldonI have been doing some reviewing of old essays that I have written. I am waxing melancholy as I read over them. Each one of them tears away piece of me, bit by bit, and yet is somewhat restorative. Interesting. I am renewed. The semester for school is almost over and I have one last task to complete. I will take a couple days to reenergize and return to blogging shortly. One does not try blog when it end semester crunch. Nothing but brain damage can come of it. Raw emotion and adrenaline do not mix.
So, what to do for a posting? I will leave you with image above and old essay below. I wrote this three years ago for my Chinese language I was taking. I was going to school part time and working full time and another part time job to supplement my income before my student loans kicked in. At any rate, I was going through one of my moods that is described my astrological sign, and was have a bipolar moment. So, I vented in my paper and discovered that I am really ready to settle down, in a fashion, but first I must finish school. I am no good to anyone bittered. Finish the goals set. Hmph.
Observe.....
Chinese Festival: Men Have Biological Clocks, Too
It had been a long night; my relief shift for graveyard failed to come in to work. I stewed; once again, I had failed to trust my instincts. I wanted to blame someone, naturally I blamed the person who was to relief me, of course, but ultimately I blamed myself. I had seen this coming and I did nothing to prepare for it. My feet ached as well as my body. It was not a coincidence that when I am wrapped in emotional turmoil I feel stiffness and pain. So, there I waited for the morning to arrive as I busied myself with shift duties to keep my mind distracted. It did not work.
My mind replayed countless scenarios of why the entity – I can not honestly refer to “it” as a person, because a person knows the value of consideration to other human beings – had not called, but I knew why. Today had been payday, and this entity had given its two weeks notice four days earlier. So, I and my mind eventually settled and stewed, every thought ebbing at my consciousness, which churned and twisted the fury within, seemingly, unbearably in the moment of forever until I wanted to snap. However, the raging winds dissipated into nothingness not unlike a funnel cloud disappearing because the realization of my isolation impacted me in the stillness of the night.
I stood there alone in the stillness, behind the counter, looking at all the displays of snacks, candy and groceries. The mirror of my life had reminded me, that the anger I felt, was not of betrayal, but of loneliness. I had no wife and kids to share my disappointment and feel angry with me. Finally, the darkness ended and my morning relief showed. However, my dark mood returns when the morning person conveys to me that the store manager had been aware of the entity’s treachery. My manager left on a camping trip with her family for the weekend. I stewed momentarily as I rushed home to get some sleep before my afternoon at the Chinese festival….
My melancholy mood waned as I groggily stretched out my arm to turn off my alarm clock. It was 1:30 p.m. and my sleep had been disrupted throughout the morning to make arrangements for covering shifts for the rest of the weekend, because of the missing entity from the night previous. I laid in the stillness of the afternoon, only to surrender to a shower and clothes to wear for the day. I was running late. So, I grabbed my book bag as I rushed for the bus that would connect me to the light rail and eventually another bus.
I made descent time to other end of town, where the Chinese Festival was going to be – the University of Denver (DU). October 1st, had been China’s national holiday, it is the equivalent to the United States’ July 4th, and the local association was putting on festivities for the University and the community. At any rate, I had made decent time, unfortunately however I had forgotten the flyer to which building the events were going to take place. The old rust bucket of my mind evoked the address 2065 E. Evans. It was wrong of course, but I searched for the address anyway. Alas, the campus of DU is huge and I was walking in circles. I had to perform an unnatural act, for an American male anyway; I had to ask for directions. I found myself standing at the campus library, upon entering the doors, I saw a young Asian woman behind the circulation desk and a momentary feeling of relief wafted over my body as I approached.
She unfortunately, for me, did not know of the event – but suggested the multicultural building. Make sense right? However, I dismissed it, because the address of the building did not match my memory. I left and pondered what to do next. I looked over the vastness of the campus and decided to return to the library. I asked the young woman once more, but this time I looked at the addresses again – the multicultural building was on 2025 Race. In other words, across the street where all the parked cars were, and the building was adjacent to them. As I entered the build, I saw through the glass doors a mass of people, children playing, vendors selling the wares and upon entering I smelled the odor of food drifting in the air of the corridors.
As I wend my way through, I eventually ran into my instructor, my laoshi, for Chinese standing at the ticket table. I greeted her in Chinese, and listened to her speak to the ticket attendant on the price of my ticket. She explained to me that I had missed the first performance, but there would be another at 6 p.m. While I waited, I gathered materials on local Chinese schools that immersed children and adults in the language and customs of China. I wandered through the hallways observing families, and I sampled various dishes, one of which reminded of bak lava from Greece, a fried tortilla cut in triangles, and breaded rice with beef and curry. I also had several different pastries with red beans, and I eventually settled for a bowl of rice, chicken and peppers.
I watched families interact. Listened to them speak in Chinese. I even attempted to explain in Chinese, that I was learning the language in school. They smiled at me, like a grade school child learning to speak his first words, and were patient with me. No offense was taken. One has to rollover first, before one can crawl, and one has to crawl, before one can walk, and walk before one can run. Children’s laughter rang throughout the hallway, mothers and fathers strolled with their kids in tow, and I felt like an anthropologist observing in his first field assignment – out of place and unnerved.
However, the unsettling feeling of calmness coursed throughout me, and an immense sense of awe eventually over took me, as I watched the performers on stage. I listened to the emcees announce each act, my ear slowing picking up each word as they spoke in the language I was learning. I watched the dancers, singers, instrumentalists play. I watched families in the darkness of the theater, some holding their children on their laps, take pride in celebrating their heritage, their customs and their children. I watched a community of people – a family of people – willingness to pass along traditions to another culture, and realized how much of an American I am. An infant in the vastness of time comparatively and I embraced the awe. Understanding that the values of patience, tradition and family. And, finally also understood the unsettling feeling of calmness – one cannot deny the traditions of existence and family. It has worked for the Chinese for over 5,000 years, and it will work for me, given time and patience. It is the legacy of the family that is the culture’s immortality, and I now, understand my desire for family – to pass along my own little bit of immortality. After all, men have biological clocks, too.
