Be.

In high school and college I usually had the thickest southern accent of all my friends. My college boss called me "Big Country," and it stuck for the duration of my time there. I have a drawl that's for certain but now that I've lived away from my roots for the last two years it's changed quite a bit according to my peers. Fortunately I've been back on American soil for two weeks and my drawl came back just the way I left it. Almost, anyway...

Since I've always been the one mocked for my accent, I never realized how 'country' everyone else around me sounded. When I came back to my hometown last week I was reminded just how southern it is. Not only southern, but small, too. Rebel flags fly at every third house on the drive from the highway. They've always been there, but only now do I notice them and give a slight cringe. 

I feel I'm readjusting quite well although I'm noticing a lot of things about my origin I hadn't always noticed. All of my friends and family have been excessively supportive and helpful to me since I came back. Buying meals, drinks and giving me places to crash and cars to drive. In a nutshell, being homeless and unemployed isn't a disaster and I'll be in a groove in no time. 

The hardest part is the Fantasy Football sized pull my friends have on when my next departure will be. I've heard as early as two months and one even gambled a year. 

My best friend's dad told me I wouldn't settle because I'm the wild child. I suppose that's a bit (a lot) true. I will leave again, but I can't say it'll be as bold as another continent. 

For everyone who is asking me what's next, the answer is grad school. In the meantime I have no idea other than to work and figure it out as I've always done. 

I've never cared about making money or making it big. I just want to be happy. And I am. I don't care that I'm almost 26 with no specific future planned. In fact, the uncertainty is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes. 

I'm not worried about what'll happen next, how or when. I'm happy to be drinking coffee and playing cards with my G. I'm happy (surprisingly) to be doing yard work with my daddy. I'm happy to talk grownup problems and relationships with my mom face-to-face. I'm happy to see my best friend and his wife argue over the towels being folded incorrectly. I'm happy to have a beer on the porch with my friends. I'm happy to drive a car with the windows down. And although it's 80 degrees in December, I'm happy to go running in the fresh air. 

These are the things that matter in life and the things I find happiness in. I've always been simple that way. I know there will be moments of culture shock once the holidays have ended. I also know I'll want to pull my hair out living with my parents again but they will too. I know I'll have breakdowns and cry over how much I miss my Beijingers. I know I'll have moments of unhappiness and want to run off again to some other place. But, since I decided to leave China four months ago I've been hounding myself about whether or not it was the right decision to make, and I can say, for today, it feels right to be here. Everything feels so normal (for the most part) and I'm a new person able to see the world I came from in a different light.

This morning my parents were leaving for church. Both of them got new Bibles for Christmas and daddy left his old one on the island in the kitchen. I opened it. There were some notes scribbled on the front pages: book titles, quotes, name meanings and a few verses. Under Acts 17:26 was my name, "Amie." I was afraid to look up the verse but I needed to know what it said. My dad thinks I'm a bit too liberal and I don't think he necessarily understands my thought process or lifestyle sometimes. My parents raised my brother and I in the church every time the doors were open and now neither of us really practice religion. The closest I am to practicing a religion is meditating and burning incense. I know it's disheartening for my parents at times and they worry about us, but they never shove it in our faces or judge. They just love us. Relentlessly. 

Anyway, Acts 17:26 reads: 

"From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live."

I know the path I've chosen isn't easy for my family and friends sometimes, but they're the only reason I'm able to continue. They support me through the most bizarre plans and ambitions. For the most part, they believe in me more than I believe in myself, and for that I'll always be stronger and more capable of chasing my dreams no matter what they are.

So, once again I say thank you to all of my friends and family for giving me what any human needs most: love.
In return, I give you more motivation and positivity from my own recent revelations and studies. 
The new year is rolling in and you should all save yourselves the heartache of another resolution broken before Valentine's Day. 
Following behind people who complain about their state of life but make no effort to improve it, New Years resolutions drive me the most insane.
Why? Because you should make resolutions and goals for yourself year round. If you're overweight in July, don't wait until January to get fit or healthy. If you're a smoker in November, don't wait one more month to quit. If you're unhappy with your job get another one. Even if you need that two years experience. Your happiness is yours! You owe it to no one but yourself. However, all other emotions are yours, too. Embrace them all because without one emotion, we'd lack another and they all work together to bring life to you. (Sit on that one a while if necessary cause I did.) 
I'm currently reading Thich Naht Hanh's, "You Are Here." He says:
"Life is accessible only in the present moment." 
We focus far too much time on our pasts that beat us and the futures that scare us instead of remaining in the present where we can strengthen ourselves. 
Make wise choices, save money, eat less sugar, workout more or whatever it is you believe will better you in the future but we must quit generating our presents on the past and future. There is only now.
I left my life in China with a few expectations, plans and goals back home. Some of which have already been altered. Hey, that's life! Also why I don't plan too far into the future anymore. This is why I'm often classed as whimsical, spontaneous, flight risk, etc. Sometimes my personality and goals cause me to dodge a lot of curve balls and make a lot of sacrifices and break relationships and friendships.That's my choice though and I deal. If I've learned anything in the last three years it's that the curve balls aren't the end of the world. 
I'm living in the now because if tomorrow doesn't show up I want today to be a damn good one. 
Secondly:
"Generate your own presence because that is the most precious gift you can offer." - Thich Nhat Hanh
This his home for me as I've just returned to my family and my home after living away for two years. I'm broke, homeless and without a car living in small town Louisiana. I have nothing but myself to offer anyone. However, I like to think that's a lot and it is certainly enough for the ones who love me. People don't need things just presence. I've always loved almost to the extent of hurting myself and I never want to lose that quality because if I did I'd lose the offering of my presence. So, this year, and for the rest of your life, just be there. Be in the present with yourself, and be physically present for the people you love in whatever way possible. 

Spoiler alert: We're humans, not gods. We're meant to be challenged and not always win. We're created for obstacles but not always to overcome them. Sometimes we're only given obstacles to learn something. When I'm having "the worst day possible" I tell myself, "you're 25 years old, Amie. You're supposed to screw up and make terrible decisions." And for those of you older than me, I believe it applies the same way if you simply substitute your own age. :) 

Happy New Year! You have one heart so don't stress it out.  <3

For my kiddos: "TEACHER FINISHED-UH"

When I was 14 years old I taught VBS on an Indian reservation in Oklahoma for one week. I met this beautiful, olive-skinned, brown-eyed girl named Keelie. She was maybe five. I'm sure I havent crossed her mind since I left. Just as she didn't cross mine until today. I cried for a good hour or two when we left the reservation that day. I remember it quite clearly. I wrote letters and emailed some of them for awhile. Of course those things fade out. It took maybe three weeks to "forget" Keelie. 

Today I told Wendy bye. You know, "bug in a bag girl." My girl. I know she's just a five-year-old spunky, chip on that left front tooth, chubby cheeked girl, but she was what I looked forward to every Saturday morning. Luckily for me, she never missed a class. Maybe today that's unlucky for me cause that was one more day to fall for her ridiculously adorableness. Wendy will grow up, as they all do, and as we all do, and she'll probably forget me, too. I'll never forget her, though. While I taught her for 18 months, as well as 200 or so other students, she was teaching me. Of course they all did, but Wendy sparked it. Fueled it really.

From the moment I sat down to observe her class while the teacher I was replacing still taught, I was infatuated. She was fascinated with my nose ring and just tapped it for a solid minute saying, "shenmae?" Then she had that damn bug in the bag, y'all. I thought she was the coolest kid in the world. Mostly because I saw my younger self there. I used to spend hours collecting rolly pollys, worms, caterpillars or whatever. I once cried for an hour when this girl in preschool squished my ladybug. (Yeah, I hold grudges.)

Anyway, when I found out Wendy's class was mine I was so pumped! In the beginning she gave me that Hello Kitty bracelet and it was like a pact to me. This girl was mine. No doubts. When you get that mentality a myriad of other emotions and connections associate with that. 

Here's what I've learned in 18 months  teaching children thanks, in large, to Wendy. 

After Wendy, I was connecting with all my students. I knew their favorite colors, parents occupations, dislikes, emotional triggers, quirks, bathroom routines, hometowns and so on. The students became mine. This meant they were my responsibility! 

"Wait! What? I don't even remember if I turned off the coffee pot this morning. Ah, your nose is bleeding? Put your head back. No, don't! Just put this tissue there. Are you choking? Please don't be choking! Drink this water. Why are you crying? Don't hit him! Sure you can have some of my snacks! Wait! Are you allergic to peanuts? Shit, you don't know what allergic even means. Where's your mom?"

These are just a fraction of the thoughts that have crossed my mind in the last 547 days. 

I don't have kids and maybe I never will but I've got about 150 I claim. 150 I'd give my last ¥5 to for a snack. 150 I'd take a bullet for if some ass hat came in my school (which wouldn't happen here). 150 ....... You get the idea.
It's been 18 months I've been teaching and some students have come and gone, but for the most part many I've taught the entirety of my time here. And they are mine. When we talk about students in the office we say things like, 'your Lizy' or 'your Will' since many of the names are shared it helps distinguish. 
Their parents send them in with a tiny backpack of hope and leave them in our hands. Point is, for one or two hours a week, they're my responsibility.
In training we're taught to be patient. Use our inside voices. Be stern, but never harsh. Don't scream. Some days, however, we've just reached our limit. We don't mean to yell or speak so loudly, we just want to be heard and quickly. We want to make our point ASAP so yelling just becomes inevitable.
It startles the children, no doubt. When they grab their ears, often followed by, "you scared me, teacher," I know I've been acknowledged.

Aside from learning a bit of patience, what it is to love and what responsibility and passion are, this job has taught me why my mom and dad used to yell so damn much instead of simply saying, "please don't do that sweet daughter that we love so much." 

The reason, nothing else to it, hands down, is PANIC. Like holy crap WTF is happening kind of panic!!! The sweatin' bullets kind. 

Here is a somewhat translation of the actual meaning behind all the screamed and shouted commands, if you will. Mostly, because aside from the commonly used ones, I can't remember all the things I've ever shouted in panic mode. The bold is the emphasized word, here's what can or should follow but isn't always voiced.

"STOP! DONT! QUIT!"
... Running in the hallway before you collide full impact with another adult-sized human!
... Lifting the desk up and down before you smash your fingers!
... rocking back and forth in the chair before you fall off/out/over!
... Playing with scissors or you'll cut yourself or someone else.
... Swinging your backpack around like a lunatic before you hit someone else or yourself.
... Running in the halls because someone could be carrying a coffee or tea.
... Pulling on my legs cause if I fall down there is a possibility I'll lose balance and fall on you. 
............

I know I need to move on and that this job was not meant to be forever. Today, my boss told me, "keep making changes." I know that I'm supposed to do some majorly awesome things. What they are is beyond me, though. I just know I'm supposed to float around, touch down, make appearances here and there and move along. 

I hope that if only one of my students remembers me 10 years from now then I did something here. I made an impact somehow. I know for any former teacher of mine that was their greatest hope. 

Personally, I don't know how you public school teachers do it. You spend every day of an entire school year with a class of students. Then start all over the next year. I remember being in school and always going back to say hello to old teachers, I only now realize how special that feels. So, even at 25, 35, 45, whatever age, tell an old teacher thanks. There really isn't anything we want more in this life. Oh, except to see you do really amazing things like be a doctor, engineer or a lawyer. And even more so, do what you're good at, passionate about and what you want. There are never too many starving artists, struggling musicians playing in bars or writers writing hotel reviews until they get there. Because while the rest of the world around you may say, "What are you doing with your life?" The teachers will say, "I always knew you had it in you."

 

Crazy 1, 2 & 3 :)

Clay

      

 
 
 

 
 

 

Good morning from ISIS

This morning I woke to the sound of semi-fierce knocking on the door. Living in a foreign country knocks on the door are always a bit intimidating. You don't usually borrow sugar from the neighbors. Basically you would only hear knocking if you were expecting company. 

The Chinese voices on the other side of the door ranged in pitch and distinction and it sounded like at least three men. 

My Chinese is enough I knew they were saying "police." The steady rapping at the door told me that before they opened their mouths. 

In China, all residents, foreign or local, must register with the local police station in their neighborhoods for residency permits. A way for the government to keep tabs on who is who and where. 

Now is the time I tell you the door being banged on isn't mine... 

Three weeks ago I made a new friend. Let's call him Leish. This means "why" in Arabic and has a greater meaning for this story. He's from Syria. 

Let me back track on our current friendship and conversations. You see, Leish inspired me to write a blog the day I met him. I've slowly been adding and subtracting to it careful of what I say given the state of the world and the place Syrians stand in it. This guy works for China's biggest news network as a foreign news expert watching video footage and giving it the go ahead or the boot to be broadcast. 

Last week, on the way to see another friends band play I asked him how it really was in Syria and how he dealt with it.

"It's sad to see your country blown to pieces every day on TV. Like oh, I know that street. It was so beautiful. Or that was my favorite cafe," he said.

Back tracking more to show my total lack of comprehension and understanding of the situation in Syria... The night I met him I was asking how long he'd been in China. The usual ex pat introductory conversation. He said he hadn't been home in five years. My response, "Why?" His response, "I can't." Me again, this time to myself, 'you fucking moronic American girl. Good luck salvaging this conversation.' 

Guys, I'm clearly aware of the situation in Syria. However, in a routine conversation when meeting new people I work on auto pilot. 

Lucky for me, my southern charm was able to explain my word vomit and I managed to make a new friend before leaving the bar that night. 

That being said, after spending more time with him I decided I didn't know enough. I spent four hours researching all the situations, names, events and history of ISIS, Syria, Iraq, Muslims, Al Qaeda, etc. 

Those four hours reminded me why I keep a pretty strict no news policy for my life; its fucking tragic. 

I cried a bit then called my mom and bitched a bit more about the world, humanity, religion, Christians, etc... 

Last night I'm having drinks with Jazz at my new spot and Leish shows up and I ask about his day and how he is doing with the whole Paris/Beirut situation. Because he is a victim of those attacks as much as the others. In some ways even more so. 

"The police came to my house today asking for my papers and what hours I work and some other shit. I told them my hours and shut the door," he said. 

Last night we closed the bar down and a few of us went to Leish's house after. Being early morning and drunk by the time we all wound down I crashed there. 

It was Leish's door being knocked on this morning. The look on his face when they left, y'all. The fucking look on his face!!! I've known many forms of heartbreak in my life, but the state in which my heart responded to the look on his face I hope to God never happens again. I just walked over and hugged him and could say nothing more than, "I'm sorry." Then I told him, "It'll be some other race in a couple years. You're going to the get through this." 

I'm sorry? How pathetic is that? There is nothing that will restore his soul or stop the depression he suffers from this civil war. Hugging his family after seeing them for the first time in five years, safe from ISIS' wrath will only mildly ease that pain.

He later went on to say he doesn't want to teach his children the Arabic language or ever go back there. Guys, the state of his humanity is so crushed by all of this that he would reject passing on his heritage and culture to his children. Do you see where I'm going with this yet? 
So I ask you. I am fucking begging you cowards to stand up. If 'all lives matter' please stop racial profiling!!! 

My friend is an atheist, his father doesn't practice Islam and he has lived in China for six years. That's a year and a half prior to when the civil war officially began in Syria. But it wasn't the beginning of racial profiling for him, was it? 

He said something to me when we were talking 'politics,' if you will. "You Americans are always spraying your freedom," he said.

He is right! We are so focused on making every country ''better'' or like us because democracy is best and all that other shit. But I ask you, is it really? 

9-11 has become almost nothing more than an excuse used to justify Islamaphobia. Americans are afraid. Given the history of the world we never know when a dictator will rise and hunt entire races or more mildly, when attacks will happen like this weekend in Paris. History repeats itself as unfortunate as that is. I understand we should be cautious about things. However, the majority of the world lives in paranoia of the past repeating itself rather than embracing the future. Maybe, simply thinking out loud here, if we opened our minds, read a bit more and thought before we spoke, the world could be a helluva lot more peaceful. 

Peace as a whole is something I don't believe the world will ever reach. Even after it ends. Westerners in general tend to have a lot more freedoms, comforts and accessibility to the 'finer things in life.' Believe me! I live in the capital of one of the world's most powerful, rising nations and some days I look around and still see third world characteristics. Those characteristics are often what I love most about China, though. Not everyone has become absorbed in modern ways. Some still live simply on their farms, drive mules and horses to town with fresh veggies and fruits and some have never seen a foreigner until I make eye contact with them. 

Lastly, here's the most important thing I learned in my research. The population of ISIS members who actually believe in ISIS' 'cause' is 30%. Thirty!

We read the stories how someone saved for a year to escape and couldn't survive the lifeboat journey across the ocean. Or the families separated and faced with extreme choices for survival. The refugees with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The refugees who only eat if they're lucky enough. The refugees turned away...

Im sitting here thinking how terrible it must be to be given the option to convert or die. Many of us like to think we'd be the brave one and die before joining such a cause. But what if you have children? Maybe they've somehow kept their hope through it all and are just fighting to make it through the end. Don't you think they hate themselves enough? They don't need strangers across the world hating them, too. Is it any different from US soldiers who oppose "The Iraqi Conflict" yet are deployed to fight for something they don't agree with only to return home with PTSD or worse?

Call me a communist, liberal extremist, or socialist because I promise it won't be the first time (or the last). But let me tell you what I am. I am a fucking human being that doesn't see color, race or religion. What we need to do is live our own lives and when we meet someone different from us we should ask questions. We are so caught up in fear that we would let the world and human race crumble before us. This isn't about Islam, Christianity or any other religion. It's about lives, y'all. 

I've been accused of being a lot of things some would consider a negative cause to support. I've been called a lot by strangers, family and friends the same since becoming more outspoken on issues as such. However, by any fellow foreigner I've met I've never been considered or called ignorant. And that's quite an accomplishment for an American (especially a native of the South). I'm not a communist, but I see it at work here and it works for the most part. I'm not going to advocate it in the States, though. I see democracy in my own country and it too has flaws. That's all I'm saying. People fear uncertainty. What we don't know. And rather than ask, we assume which typically ends poorly. The basis of most of what I support comes from my souls reaction to humankind. If I closed my mind to one kind of human of a particular race, religion, sexual preference, etc, then I would be closed to their entire religion, race, etc. If I closed my mind to all Syrians because of ISIS I wouldn't have had the experience I had this morning with Leish. I wouldn't be able to witness first hand, the effects of ISIS, not only on the world, but on innocent individuals plagued by the name on their passport. 

Apologies: from an anonymous source

I didn't write this. 
Here is a little something from someone else about many things I agree with. We're all circling this life, but how makes the difference. 
-Amie



"Apologies"

How many times this year have you apologized for something? 
Did you really mean it? 
Perhaps you were saving face. I'm guilty of that. I've made apologies for my actions when I knew exactly what the consequences were. Mostly these actions came at the price of someone's feelings.  It's very rude and self-centered and yet I did it.

They say to err is human nature. That begs the question why do we as humans fuck up so much? I'm not particularly fond of that word in most cases but it serves a purpose here. We, as people, are pretty hard to deal with on occasions. Why? If you find a straightforward answer that doesn't deal with our "nature" I'd love to hear it.

I tend to play most things pretty close to the vest and would be viewed by most as pessimist. I read once that a pessimist is a just a disappointed idealist. I think that sums it up very well. I don't agree with the "world is going to hell in a hand basket" group but I don't disagree with them either. That is a contradiction. Allow me to explain.

We, as humans, have been doing the same things to each other for centuries.  Cheaters, liars, brats, immature adolescents past the age of adolescence have been around long before me and will be here well after I'm gone. Every generation wants to believe they're the ones going to change the world but if we're going off history's standpoint your major accomplishments will be minor considering human err and general debauchery will continue on as always.

Here's what I know. It's tough to love unconditionally when you've been pressed against the wall a few times. Hasn't happened yet? Just wait. Think I'm angry? You're wrong. I just don't see any improvement and I'm not going to push my money all in without having an exit plan. Because as much as the world needs people with great ideas and hope there's people like me hedging our bets and coming out in the black.

Here's where it gets tricky. I don't follow most of my own advice. Funny right? I've been let down a fair bit, especially lately but I'm just a speck of dust when it comes to the big picture. Who am I to complain? No sense in it and truthfully you don't want to hear it and I don't want to hear yours.  There are a few moments in my life that I'll never give up because in between it all it's not so bad and although karma isn't a natural law I believe we all get what's deserved.

Love deeply. Be the change you want see in the world. Be whatever inspirational quote you see on the Internet, just own your mistakes and don't be a liar. Or be a pessimist like me and we can shovel the dirt together just don't be a total downer. We don't need anymore of us around.

Did you get my point? Well you're a step ahead of me. Because I'm not sure what the hell I just wrote.

Signed,

Anonymous

Sue in China: The Great Escape

China will always be home to me. My sacred place and point of origin. It is after all the place when I decided I was me, not damaged, not stupid, not ugly, not the mistakes I'd made, not what someone else said or thought. Just Amie. 
Moving home is a huge step for many reasons, but most importantly, to see if the Amie I've become can thrive in her natural habitat as well. It's easy to be new and different when we are amongst strangers in a foreign land.
I will forever have a nostalgia for China and the life I've built here and the experiences I've endured, but I will never be nostalgic for myself. I will persevere in whatever I do because I want to and it truly is that simple. 
The thing is I'll miss a lot, but I'll treasure it and remember it. And although some stuff are not things I ever did before, they became a part of my daily life. I don't have to let them go forever. When I was home in May, it was just a holiday. I was back talking with a twang in no time and I picked up and threw back the same ol' brew. My concern now is submerging in a foreign land again. I have a certain lifestyle in China that evolved when I was here and I lost chunks of the lifestyle I came from. Although Louisiana is home and where I come from, I see it differently now. In China I am a foreigner, and for awhile, I foresee I will remain a foreigner in Louisiana as well. 
When I got to China, in training we were introduced to the concept of culture shock. In a nutshell this is all of the stuff you don't understand, know or have in your own countries. Basically, you're shocked at some of the revelations you uncover, but you live here and now you must deal with them. With culture shock comes reverse culture shock, or the after effects of living abroad. Here's a breakdown of how I believe it will pan out.
I will always know how to be with my family, jog with my dog, eat Southern Maid Donuts, find my way through the dirt roads, and read English. 
What I won't know is how to interact with strangers who speak English and don't need me to grade my language, speak slowly or use my hands. (Of course I am with and have met other Americans in China, but here we habitually communicate this way for the most part.)  I won't know which items to choose at a WalMart or Target because there will be far too many options. In a restaurant, I won't do well being asked what toppings I want, how I want my steak cooked or which kind of beans do I want. I've relied on pointing to pictures of food for 18 months and hoping for the best. I won't know how much things really cost because my brain knows converting RMB to USD, not USD to RMB so I can't compare the difference in prices. My basic manners such as: "excuse me, sorry, thank you, hello and goodbye" will come out in Chinese for several weeks. And although I've kept all of my kind habits like holding doors, smiling at strangers, waving at neighbors and giving my seat to someone else, I'll be surprised when the large majority of the population does these things for or to each other. Although it's familiar territory, the city will have altered and undergone construction in some places, and I'll be lost a lot. Taxis don't really exist, and neither does walking to should be nearby places like the supermarket, work, restaurants, etc. I'll need to learn to judge time differently when planning my day and commute because I'll drive, not navigate underground and by foot. All of my friends and family in Louisiana will be awake and asleep at the same hours as me, but my friends in China will not. I will have to switch the people I communicate with during the day and night via WeChat and FaceTime. I'll need to use regular text messaging, and re learn SnapChat and Twitter. All the things I missed doing that gave me independence like paying bills and writing checks I will have to re learn (not credit cards, but electricity, water, and stuff). I won't need to turn a VPN on every time I fire up my computer. I'll be expected to know and indulge in all the things I did before I left, but maybe those things no longer interest or entertain me. The jokes that were once funny, will probably not amuse me. It's overwhelming to be asked a bunch of questions about the place you love dearly and have someone be utterly clueless about it, so please don't bombarde me. I'll be uncertain about emotions and responses to conversations that used to be so routine. I'll laugh as we re hash memories, but maybe inside I won't remember why it was so funny at the time. I'll want culture, diversity, language and adventure so maybe I'll be a bit blue about the mundaneness at times, but I won't mean to offend you. And this doesn't mean I'm unhappy.
Most of these are all small habits in the grand scheme of things I know, but for me this is like going back to caterpillar and becoming a butterfly again. Because although I'm not afraid I'm still extremely nervous. 
After a night of ugly crying to my best friend and losing my composure, I'm officially ready to come home. I know I made the decision months ago, but I never had the mentality. I was so concerned about what job I'd land. How I'd get there. Where I was going to live. How long would people help and support me before it became an inconvenience. The usual things that come with a big move I suppose. However, after the combination of a little meditation, tears and wine, I'm ready. I cannot control my future. I can simply show up and participate in what it is I desire, but I needn't fret over it. 
What I love about China is often a 360 from what I love about home. I compiled the following lists to show what I'm looking forward to about coming home and what I'll miss and not miss about China. Also, I hope it helps you understand how truly different the world is, especially when you jump hemispheres. Not only the differences, but how there is a major difference in traveling and living abroad. 

What I'm looking forward to.
-Air so fresh it's like landing on an undiscovered planet.
-Being barefoot. More so, being barefoot in my own home.
- Driving (If I still remember how). I can't wait to blast some old country and roll the windows down.
- All of the little things that now seem huge: drinking water from the tap, toilets, bath tubs, central heating and air, dryers, outlets that don't require an adapter, uncensored Internet, English. 
- The food: Southern Maid Donuts, Johnny's Pizza, Doritos and Mountain Dew. 
- The obvious: My family, my friends and my pets. Let's throw in running with my dog here. :) 
-The fuss over Mardi Gras, but more importantly, King Cake.
-The things I never realized were such a large part of my life until I left them: domestic beer, honky tonks, BOOTS. But the bigger things like brick houses and trailer parks. There are only apartments here, and if you live in a hutong it's in a crowded space. There are no houses on acres here. 
-The countryside and the dirt roads that lead there. Bonfires and sitting on porches. That sort of thing... 
-Lastly, being understood when I use an ism, slang or metaphor that was clearly born in the South and not meant to be understood by outsiders. 

What I'll miss
-Aside from the over crowding problem, public transportation is fantastic. It's super convenient and one of the few ways I was still given my independence.
-The hutongs. Excluding the smells, there is something majestic about them. So homey. So simple.
-The feeling of being unique. In the beginning, and again toward the end, the stares were annoying and sometimes invasive, but people stare because they're fascinated. Curiosity is in abundance between foreigners and locals here.
- The fresh vegetables from the markets. I'm talking fresh out of the dirt and needing 15 minutes to wash it away fresh.
- Obviously the authentic Chinese food. Even if made by a Chinese-American, the ingredients will never match. And there is no spicy like certain provinces here.
- Seeing, learning and experiencing something new every day. I think that happens in one's daily life regardless of location, but it's never as exotic as when living in a foreign land. Everything is fascinating. Like wtf are you selling this for in your convenient store, and how the hell did you get Cool Ranch Doritos and are they authentic?
- The neighborhood feeling among foreigners. --- "Hey man, I've never seen you before but you're not Chinese.  Let's politely nod or wave at each other just because."
-While it has it's frustration, I'll miss the daily communication in another language. I'll forever speak while using my hands.
-Street sleepers. People just nap anywhere and everywhere and no one cares or bothers them. They're not homeless, just taking a break. It's always been my favorite site here. Viva la siesta :)  
-Being able to walk almost anywhere within 20-30 minutes and there always being a sidewalk or pedestrian pathway. 

What I won't miss
-The toxic air. The dirty air that's completely fixable or at least there are alternatives but the government refuses to spend the money. Cheapskates.
-The constant cloud of second hand smoke. Even on non polluted, blue sky days, the air is a cloud of cigarette molecules.
- Being the only hare in a population of tortoises. Even on a patient day, the speed at which humans move here drives me bonkers.
- The lack of patience. The constant push and shove of getting on and off of public transportation. Like bro, another train will be here in three minutes tops.
- In regards to the above, the lack of personal space. There is no concept of it among Chinese.
- Haggling. If I go to a store I will see the price tag. If I want it I'll buy it. If it's too much, I won't. End of story. Haggling is practically a favorite pastime here, one which I do not enjoy participating in. 
-Lack of traffic rules and regulations. In general, the traffic. Y'all just think New York is crowded. Beijing is triple NY's size so you can use your imagination on the traffic scene. 
-Not understanding certain cultural norms. I love the diversity, but there are certain things that will never make sense or be explainable and it's frustrating. 
-People holding their children in the air spread eagle to pee when there's a bathroom feet away. 

"The Southern Cross"

In fifth grade, my best friend was Debbie. I asked mama if she could spend the night one weekend. She agreed, as long as it was ok with Debbie's mama. All mama knew was Debbie and I were best friends since she is the friend I talked about every day. "Today at school, Debbie and I...." You know how you are at age 10. My mom will tell this story repeatedly like it was yesterday. (I think it's the first time she was proud of me, and maybe she knew then how much I would embrace unfairness.) Anyway, when we got to Debbie's house, mama was surprised because Debbie is black. It didn't matter because it was 1999 or something at this stage of the game. And it never mattered to my mama because she loved Debbie instantly, and to this day, she'll randomly ask, "How's Debbie doing?"  She was just surprised, because even in 1999, it was a fairly new concept for children to play together and simply be children, wasn't it? We were never troubled with color (at least not yet.)
We aren't all so lucky to remain best friends with the people we loved at age 10, but at one point, they are the friend we loved most. That feeling, or memory never really leaves. Nonetheless, I think it was Debbie, as one of my first best friends, that plays a large role in who I am today in the sense of my views of equality, inequality and civil rights. She was the first person of another race I ever loved. And although we don't communicate often anymore, there is the beautiful thing of social media. I watched her graduate college and she has a great job and is now having a child of her own. I can still watch her grow and love through photos and words, just as she can watch me. 
I've now loved a hundred people of different races, colors, religions and sexuality at this stage of the game. However, as ignorant and embarrassing as they may be, I have some things to confess and address. 
See, recently I've been honored with the friendship of this girl Samantha. She's like a little sister to me. She puts up with me and listens to me and she loves in the most innocent way. She and I share an interesting bond because we are about as opposite as two humans can be right down to the fact that I'm white and she's black. But, here's a funny story about us...
On our trip to the beach a few weeks back, Sam and I were the only foreigners for miles in this tiny beach town. I kept saying things like, "they've never seen so many white people in one place." She would give me this look like, 'are you for real right now?' and that was it. She'd laugh and call me crazy. Then we were retelling the story to Gurpreet and she said, "I just really thought you forgot I was black." And serious as a heart attack I looked at her and said, "I did." 
When I look in the mirror I see myself: white girl, average weight, fairly tall for a woman, brown hair, etc. 
When I look at Sam, I just see a woman with a beautiful complexion, eyes as big and wide as a child accompanied by a voice as soft as a mouse. She speaks English. She's American. She knows the same American customs and such as I do. I just see a girl I love. I don't give a shit what color she is, so I guess my mind categorized her skin color as irrelevant. As it should be.  
Here is where the confession comes into play. Some truth that maybe other Southerners have been afraid to say, or simply to ignorant to realize like myself. We are all aware that racism is not dead, although LBJ signed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that changed history. But by how much? And why is race still an issue 51 years later? That's at least two new generations born into this mess. For most of us, we can't possibly imagine what it must be like to be discriminated against simply for being born (and don't be the ass who says, 'yeah, but blacks hate whites, too.')
So, here I will once again offend some of my Southern brethren (the caucasian lot of you, anyway). 
As a southerner there are certain ways you abide, actions you perform, hobbies you participate in and phrases you use that make you a southerner. It really is a different planet and another world in ways. Unfortunately, a more ignorant and naive world at times.
There are things no one ever says but at least one person is thinking it. And if it is said, ridicule and crucifixion follow. About the South and Christianity. About life, sex, drugs and alcohol. But above all of those things, we fear speaking about race. It doesn't mean we are or are not racist. It's just one of those tabooed subjects. Never discuss politics and religion if you wish to keep the peace. And in the South I believe it adds race to that list, because unfortunately there are still people who cannot un see color. 
Sam and myself, along with another black and white co-worker (both of them from the South) were discussing history, race, lynchings and stuff. Who knows how the subject arose, but nonetheless, I decided something from the conversation: The truth about the 'beloved' Confederate Flag. Growing up in the South we had to have the coolest Dixie Outfitter shirts, where the majority of the shirt's art is the rebel flag. Remember those? For a lot of us it's no more than a sign of being country, redneck, or hillbilly. I just always thought it really was history and if it offends you, you should go because that's what all the adults said. Sadly, that's what those who are offended by it do. Walk away. To African Americans, a rebel flag reads "Turn away. Trouble ahead."
The truth is the actual battle flag of the Civil War is not the rebel flag we parade on our front porches, flag poles or bumper stickers today. The flag we fly is the one used most widely by the KKK and Dixiecrats as a political symbol during the '40s and '50s. 
I will no longer purchase anything with the flag, support any establishment bearing it's marks or wave that son of a bitch.
It's heartbreaking I didn't realize this until October 17, 2015 at 25 years old. Ignorance really is bliss, isn't it? The shit we tell ourselves so we don't feel guilty or so we can justify where we come from or who we are/were is pathetic. I always tell people to get off my case about how much I swear. I tell them the words are only vulgar because they've been categorized that way. Maybe so, hell, I don't know. And if the rebel flag is vulgarized enough to African Americans that they would literally walk away from a place or situation because of it, then maybe it isn't about the freedom or history of the southern states. Also, let's not forget the South was fighting to keep slavery, not freedom. 
Here's the conclusion:
If you like your Civil War history and reenactments then carry on, but by all means change your flag to one of the three flags from the actual Civil War. If for nothing more than accuracy. I agree The Civil War is a huge part of our history and we should not alter the truth behind the Confederate or Union sides motives to win, but let's be accurate in which flag we defend, shall we? 
Now, keep in mind the phrase: "We all have our crosses to bare." See how southerners bare the "Southern Cross," more formerly known as 'The Confederate Flag' and even more formerly as 'the rebel flag.' Now, for whites, supremacists or not. KKK members or not. Racists or not. The white majority sees the flag as that: a cross, history, pride, etc.
Some other definitions of the word 'cross' are, "contrary, unfavorable, adverse, opposite." So, I presume that's what the majority of African Americans would view the flag as. Because regardless of how much history the flag represents, let's not forget what history it remembers, honors and stands for... Especially the particular flag we display today.
Now, what was the basis of this blog you might wonder since all that Confederate Flag bullshit was months ago? The answer is Mcgraw-Hill Publishing --- Fuck you! And I don't apologize for my choice of words. I can't begin to imagine what it's like to be an African-American parent sending children to school and telling them they come from such a dark and disgusting history, and that no matter who they are now or where they come from, there is a chance people will look down upon them because of their skin color. 
If you are unaware of the McGraw-Hill Publishing situation, there was a section in a textbook that referred to slaves as 'immigrants,' and 'workers.' 
Are you serious?
Workers make money. Immigrants come willingly or at the least, with no other option from war or famine. When you look around and see all that this country is today you better remember who worked the land when it was unworkable and who did so in forced and unbearable conditions. 
Eracism is done through acknowledgment of the past and acceptance that the future does not have to be the same. Change is the only truth; erasing history is not. As human beings we falter, but we shouldn't hide it. All we can do is say yes, we failed, but we will do our best not to again. This is what our nation should be, yet it is too prideful, broken and unforgiving. 
The thing that is most infuriating is this: no one is an American. Even Native Americans are historically traced to from Asia. It was a land a bunch of lost people took. The original settlers came here to escape persecution, now look what the world has become. It's in a constant state of persecution. In a nutshell this is the majority of the world's thought process. 

"You're black? Eh... 
You're gay, OMG! 
You murdered someone when you were 16 and you're 88 now? Wow, you shitty human you. 
You did drugs? Spend 20 years in prison, druggie. 
You wear a turban? TERRORIST!!!
You're Muslim? God save you, you terrorist!
You're a soldier, let me spit on you and disgrace your funeral. 
You had a sex change? I'll be praying for you. 
You're an immigrant? Go back to your own country!
You can't speak English? Go back to your own country!
You're different from me? I'm afraid of you and that's all it boils down to!!! "

The American Dream has been evident in people since the first settlement in Jamestown. The American Dream can be viewed and defined in a number of ways, but at the end of the day, it is desire and lust. We should all dream and drive ourselves, but why must we tear down the rest along the way?
As we grow up we find out how truly evil the world is. We can pray for it if we're religious, we can ignore it and add to the chaos, or we can nurture and take care of what is left of it. But no matter what we do, we cannot erase it, only create it.