John Doe

The United States is 33rd in countries with the most suicides annually with an average of 12 suicides committed per 1,000 residents. 
China reports 300,000 suicides annually, compared to the United States' 37,500. Take note at the varying population sizes of these two countries, too. 
According to ABCnews, poison, hanging and firearms are the three main choices for those who choose suicide. 
Then there are "less popular" ways to kill yourself.
Some experts say, "jumpers" choose jumping because it's convenient. Other experts say, it's determination. We've heard stories of an overdose gone wrong, or a bullet missing the brain by inches. But I can't recall a story of a jumper coming back around. 


Today is my Friday. I'd just stopped and bought a plethora of veggies and fruits on my way home from work. I passed the local bar downstairs, where I saw my friend, Juan, and waved and said a quick hello. I was in a hurry to get home and cook up some dinner. 
I rounded the corner of my building. Normally I'm oblivious to the world, but the other day, the left speaker of my headphones went out. I hear a thud. Like someone dropped a stack of wooden pallets. I thought nothing of it since there is always something being constructed in my neighborhood. 
I'm 500 feet from the apartment entrance at this point. When I take a few more steps I notice something. Everyone around me seems to notice, too. We think we know what it is, but we all have this look of doubt that screams, "no way!" 
When I reached the door of my building I froze. It was exactly what we'd all thought it was. 
A human body... recognizable by a few sprawled limbs. 
In movies, when someone is thrown from a building it just shows a sprawled body all broken. Maybe a puddle of blood from the head area. 
That's not what I saw. 
What I got was the body was naked. Well, maybe wearing underwear. Appeared to be a male, because there was no indication of hair on what seemed to be the head. 
The remainder of what I saw can be found somewhere in a Steven King novel. 
What I saw wasn't the worst part. I didn't know what to do. Even if I'd called 9-1-1, what would I have said? I know how to say, "Help!" in Chinese. I have no idea how to say, "Hi, I think there is a suicide jumper's body in front of Pingou #1 on Baiziwan Lu." 
I was at the ultimate of helpless. 
I called my roommate. No answer. I'm completely freaked to the point of speechless. Do I go back and see what resulted. What? Nothing... 
My roommate arrived 20 minutes after and we just met eyes. He said they'd covered the body at this point. When I told him I saw it, he was a bit alarmed. 
I'm not worried about my thoughts on what I saw just an hour ago. I just wonder what happened? Why? What was it? Could it have been helped? I think these are the same questions everyone ponders when they hear about suicide. 

Misconceptions according to SAVE.org
All those who commit suicide were unwilling to get help. False. Statistics prove many seek help within six months of their death.
People who commit suicide are crazy or mental. Also false. Grief, depression and despair are devilish emotions. 
People who talk about suicide would never really do it.  Yet again we have a negative. Never ignore a suicide threat. 

Warning signs: A not too short list. 
Talking about wanting to die or kill oneself. 
Looking for a way to kill oneself. I.e. gun shopping.
Discussing a feeling of being trapped or having unbearable pain. 
Saying it's hopeless and you have no reason to live. 
Sleeping too much.
Sleeping too little. 
When your use of alcohol and drugs is no longer recreational fun.
Withdrawn and isolated.
Sudden loss of interest
Showing rage.
Seeking revenge. 
Mood swings. 

Of course some of us have these 'symptoms'  on any given day, but these signs are speaking more permanently.  Buy, You get the idea. None of us are blind to this topic.
I also feel this is just another thing about growing older. All the things we never imagined we'd see or witness, become reality. This is one of those moments when it doesn't become real until it hits you personally. 
There are things in this life that are tragic and sad, and that's just life. Until it affects you personally. 
There are things we can never un see. And there are things we can never un do. I didn't choose to witness what I did this evening. None of the 20 other people in that surrounding 50 feet did, either. 
But there are things we can do and things we can see. 
Nothing. And I mean nothing should ever take you so low that you do not love your own life enough to live it. I don't think suicide is sinful. I've always thought it selfish. Now I ask how selfish I was for thinking such? I don't know any human's thoughts but my own. None of us do.
We can't help the bad things in other's lives (necessarily), but we can prevent them in our own. 
In an attempt to find other examples of suicide, other than the four I mentioned earlier, I found an article titled, "Ten Simple Ways to Commit Suicide." 
It wasn't about the physical act of suicide, but the mental and emotional act of killing oneself. 
I think what my eyes saw tonight is just another push in the direction of motivation. To never let myself be discovered the way John Doe was this evening. 

The Long Run: For Daddy

For the past two years I've missed my Dad's birthday and Father's Day. It's a tragedy really. I tried to post this photo with a few words on Instagram, but my dad deserves so much more. As proven by the previous several blogs I've written about him. 

A dad is every child's hero; if they're lucky enough to have a great one. 

I have loads of "father figures" in my life, but I've only ever needed one. It's always broken my heart to see friends who aren't close to their parents. On the other hand, some parents and children are too close, but that's another story.

In my previous blog, I was headed back to Louisiana for a few weeks to a new house. And just as I'd predicted, as soon as I walked in and dropped my suitcase it was home. It was full of all the things that had always made it home. Sure the hallway paths were different, the rooms opposite and the backyard was a lake, but it was home. The years of family photos my mom is religious about displaying still line the hallways and shelves. All of my grandmother's, great grandmother's and Mrs. Fraiser's cabinets are still in the kitchen. Mom's China is still in a shelf collecting dust. And dad's drums still sit in a room full of Dallas Cowboy memorabilia and enough records and CDs to open a music store. 

It was home. 

Today is Father's Day. All holidays nowadays are unforgettable thanks to social media. And I don't think we forget our parents except for Mother's and Father's Day. I know I sure don't. There are days I would literally die without my parent's guidance, and I live thousands of miles away. 

I do however believe that as much as I love and need my parents I put them on the back burner. I think we all do at this age. We're dating, our friends are getting married, people are having babies. There's always a shower or graduation or party to attend. Parents get it because they were our age once, too. But that doesn't mean they like it. 

In previous visits home I remember fighting with my mom about to spending enough time with them. I get it now why it upset her. This trip home I told my mom from the beginning I wasn't interested in big parties and hooplas about my returning; I simply wanted to see my family. 

The plan when I was in Louisiana was to mow, tan and fish. Well, it rained 88% of the days I was home so it was hard to do any of the above. However, as long as the rain wasn't accompanied by thunder and lightning, Daddy was standing in the backyard throwing a line. 

When Daddy isn't breakin' his back workin', you can find him fishin'. I often take for granted the time we spend fishing because if I'm not hookin' any, I get bored. Daddy works and works to find a honey hole too so we can keep fishing. I realize now how precious the few days we spent fishing were when I was home. 

Every time I fish with Daddy I think about Trace Adkin's, "She Thinks We're Just Fishin'" song. Because it really is always more than that, isn't it? Changing the oil in the car when it's 102 in Louisiana in July is more than just an oil change. Watching TV re-runs of Cheers and Seinfield is more than watching TV. Playing cards with my mom and G in the kitchen why Daddy practices his drums is more than just another night at home. You can see where I'm going with this. I'm not talking about bonding or the memories of it all, just think deeper than what it all appears to be on the surface. 

Eternity wouldn't be enough time to go fishin' with my Daddy, and I can say living abroad has taught me to cherish even the smallest of moments. But we shouldn't have to be separated to remember how much they love us. Don't forget about the ones who raised you. You'll always need them. Always. 

The thing I've learned to love most about Daddy is when he knew I was unhappy in our hometown. Dad's kind of psychic. We never talk about too personal of things because I'm his little girl and he's my daddy, ya know? But I'll never forget when he told me if I hated it there to leave. To this day I know that was painful.

I know that it takes him every ounce of fear and pain to put me on a plane or send me away each time I leave again. 

I take after my dad in many ways, and for each one I'm thankful, even the bad habits and genes I inherited. I love every bond we share together and although I can't remember every moment, I have millions stored away. I'm writing this to ask you all to remember your family every day. Don't get wrapped up in this crazy, busy life. 

Southern Roots and Travelin' Boots

These are a few thoughts from a few days of subway rides. Somehow they all tie together. Because I'm so behind on blogging I decided to leave these three topics as they were and not extend them to three separate blogs. Part one is about the roots I come from. Part two is about putting on my big girl boots and part three is about following my boots. enjoy! :) 

Part I. South America v. The American South 

I never realized how Southern I was until I lived in China for 10 months. When I was in New York I knew it was different where I came form, but at the end of the day I was never questioned past alligators, country music and Duck Dynasty. When it was all said and done, I was still in America, and although life north of the Mason-Dixon is different from south of it, it was mostly just accents, foods and hobbies. People in the north hunt, fish and ride four-wheelers, too. They also like BBQ and fried catfish.
In China I'm not only surrounded by Chinese culture, but all the different cultures my friends from all over the world have. Religions, holidays, and traditions are just the basics. I knew these things would be fairly different and new between myself and even my other native English speaking friends. What I never realized was all of the things I would need to explain to other English speakers. They usually understand the basic idea of what I was saying but not always.
A list of a few things that are part of a southerner's daily life, common childhood or upbringing that are far less common to the rest of the world:
1. Trailers (mobile homes). And definitely not a trailer park.

2 Wranglers and tight-fittin' jeans (and we ain't talkin skinny jeans) 
3. Manners - "mamns" and "sirs" are not common among anyone outside of the South. The smallest thing like a smile is not common among by passers. When I walk the streets here, I can always tell the difference in an American and European foreigner. 
4. I've had to explain the word "y'all" to more tun just Chinese friends... And "wedgie" and "buggy." And more...
5. It's apparently not normal to never wear shoes. At work they call me the "barefoot blue jean princess." They understand now, but in the beginning it really freaked them out. 
6. The only tea these people know is hot, and herbal. 
7. Dancing. Everyone can pop, lock and drop it, but you'll never two-step outside of the American South. Teaching is out of the questions
8. I live with two guys. We had a small roach problem for a while (literally the roaches were small). They used the spray and panicked, meanwhile, I'm slappin' my hand down every chance I got. Once my roommate came back with the spray asking' where the bug went and I pointed to the sink. :) 
9. Food... Explaining every dish, and blowing their minds every time.
10. The worst is the music barrier. People from the UK tend to know Lady Antebellum an Taylor Swift, the pop side of country. But, no one knows George Strait or Miranda Lambert. And they damn sure don't know Hag, Jennings or Jones, and every time you hear, "who's that?" your soul breaks just a bit. 
There are dozens more I could go on about, but then it just gets sad. 

 

II. Returning home 

"Home is where the heart is." 

This quote seems to be the starter for many of my blogs. 

When I was in the airport trying to leave Shreveport, Louisiana, my hometown, I asked Mother Nature to hold off on the rain and storms because I was trying to go home. 

But, I was already home. Wasn't I? 

My heart undoubtedly remains eternally in the South. As it should. This is where I was born and raised after all. However, nowadays my heart resides in China with my fellow foreign family, the coworkers who put up with me daily and of course, my kids! 

My boss warned me in the beginning not to settle in China. The moment things became a habit I had settled and she feared I'd never leave and continue pushing myself toward other, possibly greater, things.

Although China is the greatest accomplishment of my life and it has been a steady case of pushing an elephant up a hill, I understood what she meant. 

I left my students for three weeks and it was hard. When I returned fellow teachers were telling me how much the students missed me, asked for me and one who cried three Mondays in a row because she wanted teacher Amie. This made my heart melt, but I still realized they made it without me. I can mold them and push them as far as I can, but eventually they grow up, too. Two of my younger classes graduate this month to a two-hour time slot, and being I have a full schedule, this leaves me with no slot to teach them further. This is a real heart breaker for me, but it allowed me a moment of clarity. If I stabilize myself here I wouldn't be the person I aspire to be. 

Year two in China will be a greater challenge because I know it's ending. Also this trip requires 14 months. I know that I need to push further and harder toward a different future. 

I also know China will forever hold a place in my heart as a second home. This is my home of discovery. I found a love and respect for myself as well as my actual hometown that I lacked before. China was a major transition of language, culture, customs and habits. I found the me I was looking for here through all the struggles I endured. 

When you struggle and the only option is to endure, (because failure is never an option), you are stronger and wiser for it. I am a teacher, with no qualifications other than the fact I was born with white skin and English as my native language, but daily, I learn more than I teach. From my co-workers, foreign friends, my students and strangers. I live in a different world and am exposed to new language, history, experiences and culture daily. Living in a different culture you need to be on your toes more. More aware of your surroundings and landmarks. Aware of your behavior and actions. Because of this, I learn from myself. I'm steadily piecing together pieces of the language on my own and collecting context clues to learn on my own. When immersed it's amazing how quickly you can adapt. 

 

III. When I leave this place... 

The thing I lack most is patience and I think in some aspect we all lack the proper amount. This lifestyle I have begun to live, although more carefree, still consists of worries. 

I know what to do next, but my problem is waiting it out. It's instilled in us to always work toward the future. I'm at the point in life now where I realize what the older generations meant about "later may never come." This is unfortunately true, yet, I've just now decided that if later never comes, whatever I said I'd do later must have never been something I was supposed to do. 

I want to be successful and in my mind I already am. Is there always more to accomplish? Of course! But I'm not going to wear myself ragged trying to get there and miss out on all the little things. 

My daddy has always told me time flies and this year was the first time I've noticed. I can already feel my body getting weaker physically, I can't ever get enough sleep to fill the bags under my eyes and I'll be silver-haired by 33 at the rate I'm headed.

Living abroad time is at an accelerated speed. Although the pace among Chinese is comparable to the tortoise I still find myself at hare speed because I'm constantly trying to keep up. I'm trying to learn, apply and obtain as much of the language as possible. I'm also trying to become more and more independent (mostly because that's the only option).
If I can do these things in a foreign country, there is no reason for me not to succeed in my own. The problem is, it's easier here. There are constant opportunities for people. And speaking English in a developing country is a huge bonus. You constantly get approached by people on the subway or in restaurants who would buy you dinner just to have an English conversation.
If I lost my job here today, I could have a new one before day's end. Networking is important here, but not as helpful as being a white American, native English speaker. Meanwhile, back in America, people are struggling daily to even get an interview.
Many people get stuck here because of this, but this is where I draw the line. Who wants a life too easy anyway? Bring on the challenge! 

The Journey Of Your Life

I was going to make this a photo blog called "One of Those Nights" after the Tim McGraw song. It was going to be dedicated to all the nights I spent with my friends back home and all the fabulous moments shared with them.

It was going to be strictly photos because I'm not going to reveal all the shenanigans my friends and I participated, or didn't participate in. However, I can't avoid words so I've found another way.
Life is a helluva ride. You can do it solo or find a few rare weeds like yourself to keep you company.
I am without a doubt one of the luckiest humans in the world when it comes to friendships. The loyalty they have to me. The respect they have when I don't deserve it. The love they show 24/7/365. The pride they have in me. The perseverance they have for sticking out a friendship with the world's flakiest, most ADD human alive. From the newest ones who don't know my favorite color, to the oldest who know my deepest and darkest secrets; this blog is a little thank you to you. A recognition at the least. This is strictly to the friends I was able to squeeze into my short three weeks home. I love each and every one of you fully, but in a variety of ways and for a number of reasons. I'll never be half the friend to y'all as you are to me. 
When I left for New York, I wrote a blog thanking each special person in my life and telling each of you why I love you. In this blog, under your photo, in addition to why I love you is why I'm proud of you. And although y'all seem to admire me for being a wanderer, I admire you so much more for who you have become or who you are becoming. 
I know we'll keep growing up, moving away and changing, but we've made it this far. Life throws curve balls and that's ok. That's why we're all in this together. Eventually, because I've already seen it starting, we'll only see each other at weddings and reunions, and that's ok, too. We'll marry outside our circle of friends. We'll have careers that consume us. We'll have babies and then they'll consume us. But at the end of the day, just remember who is there, who was there and who is going to be there. 
So, if y'all don't mind, I'd like to hold on to you for forever.

To my best friends' mothers, who are my mothers, too. Who worry as much as my own mother about what I'll say wrong, where I'll go next and what I'll get into. For sharing your daughter/son with me.  If for whatever reason my own mother isn't available, I know I'll always have half a dozen more to rely on. 

Bobbers: This is my new favorite photo of us. It captures the amount of happiness I have in your presence. Thank you for being the most loyal, kind-hearted and generous human I've ever had the privilege to call a best friend. #Positivity

Jeffro: I don't know where to start. I am beyond thrilled we've made it this many years. I am INCREDIBLY proud of the man, friend and husband you have become. I'm still bragging about you! #grownmanstatus

Chris: I'm so incredibly proud of how far you've come in your journey and that you've started a life and career in the Big D. You're an incredible daddy and still manage to find the time to be an amazing friend.
Wesley: Keep taking steps. Size doesn't matter. When you get there, you'll know. Meanwhile, keep enjoying life because there is no such thing as back. 

Nana: The best thing about our friendship is we never have to catch up. We just pick up. No matter where I go or for  how long, it's like I never left. Be patient, it'll come to you. I love you! :)

B: I love you because I can't wait to tell you all the things I'm never supposed to say. I love you for being as crazy, if not crazier, than me. I'm proud of you for Arkansas and taking the next step. 

Em: For staying true to yourself. Forget the haters. You are a beautiful, crazy, free soul and it's what I love most about you. Thank you for putting so much time aside for me when I was home and just letting me be home and comfortable. I'm lucky you squeezed further into my heart this past year. I know you struggle, but I'm always here, and you WILL finish school and it WILL be worth it all in the end. #pushitrealgood :) 

My girls: for ALWAYS being there <3 

KB: For never changing, yet constantly changing. For living fearlessly, and being the person who taught me to be young, wild and free. You're forever my tiny soulmate. #KBtakesBeijing

        

Elk: For your optimism, encouragement and ever-loving heart. The dearest person I know. Now, if only you could instill as much faith in yourself. What would Captain America do? :) 

B: We just keep getting closer all the time. I never imagined we'd make it this far, but I can't imagine where I'd be without you. Thank you for being religious about FaceTime calls. And thank you for always being curious, rather than judgmental. I'm so proud of the woman you're becoming and the wife you are to Jeffrey (we know he'da failed without you, haha). 

Hammdoll: For being the sweetest, most thoughtful and encouraging friend I've ever had.  Time and distance never affects us. You've always been one of the most beautiful girls I've ever known, inside and out. Your heart is bigger than anyone I know. I'm so proud of your career and still can't believe you have a home. I'm beyond proud of you. 

The world's bestest friends (the majority anyway). 

"Nobody Hangs Hard Times On The Wall"

My life is a permanent vacation...
That's a bull shit lie!
I work, pay bills, wait for a paycheck, go on dates, deal with drama, know Debbie Downers.
A fellow friend abroad just wrote about all the things that suck about being gone. Her blog inspired me to finish what I'd started about this topic.
It only took about one month in China for friends to slowly stop checking in. Sure they read my blogs, like my pictures and follow me on social media. But "nobody hangs hard times on the wall."
I still wait for a paycheck at the end of each month. When rent is due (pay three months at a time), I eat noodles and rice most days. Noodles and rice that I cook.
The foreigner circle abroad is small, so there is always a taste of drama. It may not directly effect me, but most likely one of my friends or colleagues.

Food cravings are easy to overcome. Although it's not like Granny's or your favorite hole-in-the-wall place, or even Sonic, Western food can be found and some places are actually really decent.
Late night Taco Bell drunk food becomes street food, which is just meat on a stick. Granny's cooking becomes dinner with friends. And for me, the hole-in-the-wall joint became PacMan (A Chinese chain actually named Shiquain Delicacies).

I don't use the term "blessed" often, but I have truly been unbelievably blessed with an amazing selection of friends here. We are all struggling, whether it's the same or not. And we all know what it's like to miss home, even those of us who know we're better off gone.
My friends can tell when I'm homesick most days. I turn from obnoxious American to reserved with my headphones reading or writing.
Friends abroad are always willing to have a drink, grab dinner, see a music show or take a little adventures because we all know we need to keep busy to keep from going insane. Regardless of exhaustion after a long work week, they're there.

What weekend?
Because I teach at a learning center in the evenings, this means my students are at school during the weekdays. Therefore, they come to EF on Saturday and Sunday. My day starts at 6:00 a.m. and ends at 6:30 ish. But I don't get home until 8:00. I We teach ten-hour days.
My weekend is Wednesday and Thursday so hanging with friends often means sacrificing sleep, but they do the same for me on a Wednesday night.

When you have a bad day you have your friends here and although it isn't the same as a friend back home who knows it all, it works. The hard part is when your hometown friends are struggling and all you can say is hang in there, give it time or tell them to tell whoever it is to go to hell. You want to give them a shoulder, rather than just words through a text, Skype or FaceTime. The fact that they're 13 hours behind never helps either.

You don't speak fluent Chinese, German, Spanish, or whatever language is native to where you're living. The daily routines are easy: buying from the markets, ordering at a restaurant, giving taxi directions and topping your cellphone minutes. But the more necessary basic stuff is a struggle: transferring money, paying bills and getting to meetings in different locations.

Life abroad is actually much harder than life in your hometown, a few states in any direction, or your native country period.
There are hundreds of laws in my own country I'm unaware of, so imagine a new one full of different guidelines. Let's also keep in mind I live in a communist country that only opened to foreigners 20-plus years ago. For foreigners it's not too terrible, but for the Chinese it's pretty tough in some areas.

Sure my life is an adventure because I live abroad. And because I live in a foreign country I vacation in foreign places within that country. If I lived in America I'd vacation in Florida or Kentucky. I don't know. But I don't live in America. Life isn't a permanent vacation. My life isn't vacation at all. I work 40 hours a week, usually more. My life is an adventure, yes. But not always a leisurely one.
I chose this life because mundane becomes mundane more quickly to me than some. Because I don't want a job so boring I get Charlie horses sitting at a desk all day. Because I want to see the world. Because I want to open my mind, body and soul to the rest of the world in ways many are too afraid of (or too negative and closed minded to).
Am I happy? Unbelievably!
When I went to Europe everyone thought I was crazy. When I moved to New York everyone though I was brave. When I came home from China    recently everyone asked how long I'd stay and where I was going next. I'm happy to be that person others can envy, admire or whatever other word you choose. Just know as much as I enjoy being gone, I enjoy being home.
People commend my courage for living abroad and I do it because someone had to. I do it so my friends can have a person to go to with the most bizarre idea or thought in existence and be able to tell them, "so do it!"
My parents recently moved to the lake and anytime something happens that seems rough they've made their motto, "it's ok because we live on the lake." So, that's how I live here. When I have the worst possible day full of chaos and confusion, I can just say, "it's ok because I live in China."

This life is about far more than saying. It's about doing! I live an ocean, several countries, a 13-hour flight and half a day in time away from the people I love most. Although I've been able to find substitutes, I've never found replacements. Because home, no matter how good, bad, near or far from it we are, it lives within us.

Bienvenue Louisiana.

I told myself going back to Louisiana after 10 months would be a breeze. I hadn't even made the year mark abroad yet. I wasn't going to experience culture shock because I was going to be so busy visiting friends and family and relaxing. 

Here is the basic schedule of getting to Louisiana. Keep in mind I'm beginning with Beijing time (13 hours ahead of Louisiana). 

Monday May 4th: 

6:00 a.m.: Leave my apartment

6:15 a.m.: Subway to airport

7:00 a.m. Arrive at airport and pray I've exited to the right terminal. Wander aimlessly looking for the American Airlines check-in point.

7:15 a.m.: Find check-in. Six lanes open. About 100 people in line. 

7:15 a.m.- 9:00 a.m. - Let everyone know I've made it to the airport and I'm slowly, but surely on my way. Have a nice conversation with a girl and mother. The mother is from China but has lived in California for 30-something years and her daughter lives in Boston and they'd been visiting family together. 
9:15 a.m. - Grab a coffee at Costa and a delcious-ass blueberry muffin. Yes, it was that delicious. 
10:00 a.m. - Head to my gate and charge up my laptop until boarding. 
10:30 a.m. - Board, score an aisle seat, meet Mr. Billy (see previous blog), prepare myself for the next 11 hours.
11:05 a.m. - Take off! America, here I come! 
.................................................
12 hours later...
11:20 a.m. in Chicago, Illinois - Plane lands. 
I haven't slept a wink, but the flight went surprisingly fast. I watched movies, read, wrote and created a powerpoint. 

From the moment I stepped off the plane in Chicago I freaked. I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, normal stupidity or just nerves. From Chicago I was flying into New Orleans where my best friends Jeff and Brandi would pick me up and house me for a few days. I told Jeff I'd find the first person I saw in Chicago and borrow their phone to tell him I'd landed and keep him posted on the flight schedule. (I no longer have an American phone at this point). 
Coming abroad the next step is customs. You must check-in, claim your luggage then re-check your bag. My game plan in airports is always to follow the crowd. 
Unfortunately, I lost the crowd along the way...
The first thing I see is a dozen non-Chinese people in airport uniforms. There are a plethora of foreigners in Beijing, it's just that riding the subway daily, the people in uniform are Chinese. Secondly, I walk past a row of water fountains. Like what? (In China, only bottled-water is drinkable) Thirdly, when I make it to the check-in point I lose all motor skills for 2.5 minutes. An attendant reluctantly helps me check in for my connecting flight. 
Next, I stroll through to the baggage claim area. I come to a halt. An employee asks me, "are you lost?" I responded, "No, I just needed a moment to gather my thoughts." 
Two minutes later, after having not moved since she approached me, I turned to her and said, "I'm lost as #&*@. I don't know where to go. Why are those people in a line? Am I speaking English right now?"  
She laughed and said, "Yes, and we all are. You need to get your bag, right?" 
I nodded yes, but then point to all the people standing in a long line who have already claimed their bags and say, "But where are they going?"
She tells me to grab my bag and then I'll go re-check it through the line they're in. 
Well, of course, by the time my bag comes through the line is gone and I'm afraid I'll never get where I'm going. 
I spot a man from Mr. Billy's band and follow him to throw my bag on, but not before going through the customs line where a TSA guy was harassing a Chinese couple about having only a carry-on between the two of them. I tried to explain to him, with my broken Chinese, that they are staying with friends and have a lot of money to spend and planned to buy everything there. At this point I'm just irate. 
Finally, my bag is sent back to hopefully a plane going to New Orleans and I set off to find a phone to call Jeff. Of course, I'm freaked at this point and lost all my obnoxiously friendly social skills and resorted to buying a coke and getting a dollar worth of quarters to use the pay phone. I call Jeff and he doesn't answer. I leave him a frantic voicemail that went something like this: "Hey I'm here. I'm freaking out. Everyone is mean. There are white and black people everywhere. But at least there are cute boys. My flight is on schedule. Can you call me back? Well I guess you can't. I'll call you back."
After realizing it takes a whole $1.00 to make a call I return to the Hudson and get several more dollars worth of quarters. I try Brandi and she doesn't answer either. But without fail, my mom answers and I assure her I'm ok and a bit freaked and will call her when Jeff and Brandi retrieve me from NOLA airport. 
At this point I am coming around and I have about three hours to kill. When charging my phone I met a super nice guy from The Republic of Congo who is doing his residency in Minnesota. Bless his heart, ha. Then a lady from Mexico City on her lunch break joined in out conversation and it turns out her brother lives in Shanghai. 
I split ways with them and headed toward my gate to grab a glass of wine at a bar, where I almost forgot to tip the bartender. I was able to call Jeff back and he laughed at me saying when he got my voicemail he imagined me curled up, knees to my chest, in a corner having a breakdown. Which, wasn't too far off, ha. 
When it came time to board the flight, that two-hour flight felt like 30 minutes. As soon as we were up, we were back down again. Finally, Louisiana! I could see the swamps from the sky. I practically ran from the terminal. I told Jeff not to pick me up without a sign or something awesome so I was walking around with my iPhone video open. I'm there 15 minutes and seeing no one. I walk outside hoping to see their car and praying they're not late because I've just had the longest possible day and want nothing more than to see their faces. 
To my left, across the street I can see a guy, very closely resembling Jeff, taking pictures. There is a concrete column blocking whatever he is photographing, but I'm almost certain it's Brandi with a poster. I keep looking around and when my eyes wonder back to that guy, I see five women come out from behind the column: My mom, her best friend, and three of my best friends. I guess that guy was Jeff, and he brought more than signs to the airport. 
They can't see me and I go to run across the road and nearly get hit by a taxi van. I'm waving my hands and yelling like a loon making my way over saying, "I'm over here. Hey! Hey!" When they finally see me, I dropped my suitcase and ran into my mama, tears streaming down my face. 
I was so completely surprised to see them all and after the day I'd had, I've never been so grateful for all the love I receive from the people in my life. 
I'm in shock and we get in the car and head to dinner. My only request was Louisiana food. At this point I can't believe I'm with so many of my favorite people, ragging the way I talk now, eating gumbo and sitting in Louisiana. 
Unfortunately the girls, except my cousin had to return back to my hometown. Ten months of not seeing my mom, I can't believe she was actually able to leave. I also can't believe we didn't cry more. 
So, I'm spending the next two days in New Orleans with Jeff, Brandi and Britney. I'm a tourist in my own state and I'm thrilled about it.
I'll save New Orleans for a blog in itself. 

Emily, my adopt little sister and the brains behind all my hashtags :)

My cousin/bestie, Britney! :) 

The couple I owe my life to: Jeff & B :) 

Never too old to cry when you see your mama! <3 :) 

This is what was going on behind that concrete column :) 

Home Sweet Home

I think this is Ponchartrain, but I don't know :)  

Human Encounters

My favorite part about traveling is not the sights I see or the places I go but the human encounters on each journey. The places are great, of course, but the people are what often stick most. 

For example, traveling to Greece I most remember the Greek couple I met who have lived in Mississippi for 30 years and gave me their phone number and told me to call if I got in trouble. He'd also tried to marry me to one of his sons, ha! 

In New York I met a guy who rode his back to California and back in 40 days just for the hell of it. 

In China, well, that list is too long for this blog. :) 

But today, today, I met someone that really made me think. Differently than when I usually meet someone, anyway. 

His five o'clock clock shadow is salted with gray hairs. His bottom lip sticks out due to his thick gums. His hands are callused and cracked from years of living. But mostly they're cracked and callused because he's a drummer. As the daughter of a drummer, I recognized the wear on his hands. This man to my left is named Billy. Of course I'm southern, and given that he has seven grandchildren, he's definitely my elder, so I'll call him Mr. Billy. 

When I boarded the plane I found my seat, 41F, occupied by Mr. Billy. This left the aisle seat, 41G, clear. I told him, "I don't mind if you don't because I got long legs and pee a lot." When he responded to me I immediately recognized the long southern drawl of my people. But more distinct than that, I recognized the drawl of an older gentleman from the South. A man of color, too. Now, only people from the South can recognize the multiple differences and distinctions of southern accents. And the older black generation, in my opinion, have one of the better accents, which I love. 

Surprised to see a 70-something-year-old black man on a plane leaving China I instantly engaged in conversation. (Sidebar: many Chinese have a prejudice against black people, too.) 
Confession: I was just tickled to speak to someone from my home state so I didn't have to grade my language or speak slowly and still be understood. 

Anyway, turns out Mr. Billy is a traditional jazz musician from New Orleans who'd been playing with his band in China for one week. 

I told him my daddy was a drummer and my grandfather a saxophonist, I went to Louisiana Tech, was a teacher in China, and so on. 

Then I said, "any chance you're playing in New Orleans tomorrow because I'll be there for two days." 

So he gave me the time, band name and location. I had every intention of going except his tomorrow wasn't the same as mine because I was still stuck on Chinese time. 

This meeting gave me a bunch of feelings and I think mostly because I was in a mixed state of being overwhelmed and excited. A lot was going to happen in the next three weeks and even more had happened in the last 42. 

I'm always excited to talk to music people, especially from older generations because my interest in older genres of music usually throws people for a loop. Music is kind of mine and my dad's thing so it always gives me a feeling of nostalgia and home. 

All those great feelings aside, a tinge of anger, maybe more annoyance than anger, emerged. Looking and speaking to this sweet old man I found myself wondering, "who in the world could dislike humans based on skin color and how much shit has he dealt with in his decades of living?" 

It's a bizarre thought I know but meeting Mr. Billy will always remind me why I never see color. 
Needless to say, I think meeting Mr. Billy has been my favorite human encounter so far. It's nice to see where people can go in life, no matter where they come from or what they look like. :)