Learnin' Some Children: The Month of April

So here are a few stories from April. As I will be in Louisiana for the majority of May and missed March here are a few stories to tide you over until I'm back in June. This month I tried to document the occurrences in class more accurately by recording quotes from the students. So with a few intros to stories and background information, this blog will have a lot of dialogue. Enjoy!!! 

Story 1:
A quick lesson: 
Four vocabulary words to introduce this story.
1. Shabie - a Chinese curse word similar to "bitch," but actually worse. 
2. Chevy - as in American Chevrolet
3. Shabby - torn, tattered
4. Xiali - a cheap Chinese vehicle brand 
For further introduction, 1 and 3 are pronounced very similarly and 2 and 4 are as well. And with my ear they can all sound similar coming from my students. 
In my older level class I was teaching high and low quality. Because there are so many insanely expensive cars in Beijing, Chevrolet, Honda, Toyota, etc are practically rubbish. I said, "High quality is Ferrari and low quality would be Chevy." I further explained that Chevy is really big in the U.S. and not considered a low quality vehicle (by many). Jethro and Mike exchanged looks and laughed. When I looked at them confused they said it's a really cheap car in China. So I drew the Chevy symbol on the board and they said, "Oh! We thought you said Xiali." 
My next expression made it very clear to them that I thought they'd said, "Shabie" and not "Xiali." Because my expression was followed by, "don't say that, Mike. I know what it means." 
Mike: "I didn't say that. It's a cheap car in China." 
Me: "Well don't say any of them because it sounds bad to me."
Mike: "In English this means (tears a piece of paper inciting torn)"
Me: "No, it doesn't. It doesn't have a meaning in English." 
I then proceed with class and 15 minutes later or so the students are filling out a dialogue activity or doing something that requires me to observe and not speak. This means I have a moment to gather my thoughts, in which I looked at Mike and said, "Oh! Shabby. Yeah, it means something like that."
The class laughs and continues with their work, meanwhile, I'm quite impressed at how much I'd just deduced in 15 minutes, ha. 

Story 2: In my older classes, when I'm feeling silly, I throw markers at the students who speak Chinese. It makes them temporarily revert to English and gives them a laugh or two. In the same class as the Chevy shabby debacle I'd chunked about 12 markers Jethro's way because he insisted on speaking Chinese. Halfway through class I realized I'd forgotten something in the office.
Me: "Aw, man. I'm missing something I needed."
Jethro: "Markers?"
We all burst into laughter. Touche, Jethro. Touche. :)

Story 3:
Background: When I first started teaching I used to always start classes (my upper levels) with the common, "How's everyone? How was your week? What did you do?"
The average response was always something along the lines of, "Fine. Ok. Homework. So much homework."
So, I stopped asking what they did and instead always ask, "How much homework did you have?" 
The answer is still the same, but they get the joke behind it. After they answer I say, "Ugh! I hate homework!" Then I force them to dig a little deeper and find something other than homework that they've accomplished that week.
My students also know that I hate math and science because most of them love it and they laugh when I look at their math homework and pretend to solve problems like x+23+banana-4b-2354 = yellow.
Last week with my oldest group of students they'd been discussing traveling abroad and had to do an activity about being robbed at a train station during one of their imaginary travels. Half the class were police and interviewed the others as victims then switched. I had to partner with a student because of the odd number of students. 
So I partner up with Victoria, one of my favorite, spunky teens and this is how our interview went. 

Victoria "Okay. What happened?"
Me: "My bag was stolen."
Victoria: "What was in your bag?"
Me: "My wallet with debit and credit cards and passport and my phone and some gum."
Victoria: "Okay. How much was everything worth?"
Me: *long pause*
Victoria: "Amie, I know you hate math so you can just make up a number." 

I couldn't even answer from laughing so hard. I'd been called out by my own student and it was hilarious. 

Story 4: 
I tried to teach my goofball Saturday morning class "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" because they'd finished their book and that gives them two classes of story telling. This is a small class of six energetic, spastic and ridiculously silly five year olds. By the end of the class this is what they were singing:

"The itsy bitsy Aaaamie, Amie Amie A-mie. 
Amie Amie A-mie and washed the Amie out
Out came the Amie, Amie Amie Amie Amie
And the itsy bitsy Aaaamie, Amie Amie A-mie"

I cannot make this stuff up folks, and I have no idea where they get it from, but I'm not complaining because I like the compliment of "itsy bitsy Amie," ha.


Story 5:
I have a new student named Magic. Now, this isn't the most uniquely named student I've had by a long shot. However, I can't simply say his name. It always comes out, "whoa-oh it's Magic."  And with a name like that don't you know he's just a little sparkler. I now have the whole class in on it. By the time we had our sixth class this is how the beginning introductions went:

Amie: (passes ball to Magic) "Hello. What's your name?"
Magic: "I'm Magic."
Amie: "Everyone, 'whoa-oh it's magic, ya know." (writing his name on the board.)
Magic: "Whoa-oh it's Amie." 

And it was in that moment when my heart melted. I often play tunes for the kids during cut and paste bookwork lessons so naturally I played the song. We had to go with Radio Disney's version, but all of their faces lit up when the first line belted out. I asked Magic if he liked it and he just grinned a big 'ol grin while shaking his head wildly. 

Story 6:
In an open door, (a class where parents watch), the focus was discussing problems, giving suggestions and objections, then finally a solution. We had discussed a few examples then I put the students in a circle and the first wrote the problem and they had to pass the paper to their right and the next student writes the suggestion, and so on until a solution was reached. Well, TinTin thought it would be cute to write a problem with no solution. But the students still found a way around his original problem as follows: 

Problem- a tiger ate you and you're died
Suggestion: use magic to come back to life
Objection: you don't have magic
Solution: call Harry Potter :)

This was the highlight of that weekend's classes. 

Story 7: This is one of my oldest students, Frank. I gave this class a warmer to fill in two speech bubbles then I was going to read it aloud to the class and they would have to guess who wrote which one, This is what Franks said. 
Caption 1: "Hey! Who is your favorite man? Is he the Frank?"
Caption 2: "Yes! Of course Frank! He's such  handsome man and an incredible genius! I think he is the man god in the space. He's so attractive! I have loved him since birth! I even want to married him! He is my best love!" 


The following is just more random dialogue from some of the students I found entertaining. 

Me: "Donde esta, Jenny?"
Students: "No Chinese, Amie."
Me: "That was Spanish!" :)
Students: *Puzzled faces because they have no idea what I said either way. :)

Elaine: "Teacher Amie, I didn't go to school today."
Me: "Why not?"
Elaine: "A big tree fell down"
Me: "What?" (draws a picture of a school with a tree through it thinking I've understood)
Elaine: "No. Not this."
Me: "Well, ok then."

Dora: "I very very very like you!"
Me: "I very very like you too, Dora."


Finally, I had to say goodbye to many classes for the next four weeks since some of them I only teach every other week. We took a lot of photos though and I can say I was quite impressed by their responses of saying they'd miss me too! These guys make the long weekends worth it and I can honestly say I'll miss them and look forward to coming back for another year of chaos!!! :)

My wild Sunday boys + Kitty! This one was hard to capture! :) 

Going home for a month, but first let's take a selfie! :) 

Olivia: my Star Student this month, and my #2 all the time! :) 

This is my FAVORITE class and I fear I may have taught my last class to them because they will graduate while I'm gone and move to a time slot I'm not available. It was a real struggle not to cry. These kids know my name, how to spell it and my favorite color. Most importantly, they understand my speech on my worst days! :) 

 

 

Tuesday night rowdy boys! Catching a photo with these guys was never going to happen! :) :) :) 

My newest class and already in love! <3

A father's success is a daughter's dreams

Dreams: an involuntary vision occurring to a person when awake; a vision voluntarily indulged in while awake; an aspiration; goal; aim.

Success:  the accomplishment of one's goals; a performance or achievement that is marked by success; a person or thing that has had success as measured by attainment of goals, wealth, etc.

The definition of these two words varies from the context of a conversation, and also from the person to whom is speaking or being spoken about.

For me, I am living my dream. I live and work abroad in China. I've traveled to places and seen things that most people can't stretch their minds far enough to imagine. I wanted to leave my hometown and see life. Not only is this my dream, but it's my idea of success. All I want is to create, experience, discover, explore and impact; and so far I am doing those things one day at a time and headed in the right direction for the result of impact.

For my father, as of last night, I realized, although on opposite spectrums of the definitions, he too has achieved his dreams and found success.

This blog is for my dad…

The idea for this blog came to me in a combination of two recent encounters.

The first.
The other night I jumped on the elevator in my building with a young teenager holding some candy and two packs of smokes. The smokes I assume to be for his father on the 22nd floor where he exited the elevator. Unlike America where IDs are checked for tobacco and alcohol purchases, that's not a norm in China (and many other countries). And it wasn't always the norm in the States. At least it wasn't always so heavily enforced. I remember my dad and aunt talking about taking alcohol and tobacco runs for my granddad when they were younger.

The second.
In a cab ride home with my boss last night the duration of my father's work history came up. My dad has worked at the same factory since he was 19 years old. He is now approaching his fourth anniversary of turning 50 (you do the math). Once, maybe sometime as recent as last year, I asked my dad if he ever wanted another job or was unhappy with having worked the same job for so long. In a nutshell his response was no because it paid the bills and provided for us.
I tell my boss this story and she commented, "that's your dad's idea of success." She didn't mean this negatively. She meant it for the truth that it was. And she was 100% right.

I think growing up, the only place my dad could call home was his maternal grandmother's where he spent every summer with my grandmother and his favorite uncle, Truitt.
My dad's father was a musician and we all know to be a musician you need to be a bit nomadic in your lifestyle. My dad never had a permanent home as a kid. My granddad apparently switched jobs about as often as they moved from rental house to rental house. To my knowledge my granddad wasn't a terrible father, just a bit more of a dreamer than a man after stability.
My grandmother was in her forties when she had my father so I guess you could call him a "surprise." My aunts and uncles are all much older than my father; his next youngest sibling is 16 years older than him. My aunt was more often mistaken as dad's mother than his sister. She always tells the story of making runs for my granddad's bar as something like, "I'd have your dad in the back and a case of beer or liquor next to him. I was just 16 years old."
Times were definitely different then.

When I was 14 we sold our brick home in a nice neighbourhood right on the outskirts of town to move to my maternal grandparent's land. My dad was hesitant saying a mobile home wasn't too safe from tornadoes and such. My mother assured him that whatever way God saw fit for them to go was how it would be so a concrete foundation was irrelevant. As a man of God, my dad didn't have much argument left.
It wasn't until last night that I realized selling our home in that neighbourhood had a much deeper meaning than the physical stability of a concrete foundation and brick walls.
My parents bought our home on McLeod Drive when my brother and I were very young (possibly sometime around 1993-94). It was the first home my father had. It was stability for himself and his family.
My dad spent years painting, tearing up and replacing all the tile and carpet, building a porch and deck. There was a backyard for his grill and a garage for all his toys. The yard provided plenty of space for his wife to plant all her flowers. The yard was big enough for a dog or two and a swimming pool to satisfy his children's happiness. My dad had obtained the American dream.
My dad is a humble man and not cheap but buying a new flat screen TV is a big deal for him. My dad has always lived within his means. In my 25 years of living I never wanted for a single thing. Not that was necessary of course. And I believe my brother will say the same of his 28 years. We may not have had the latest, the greatest or the most expensive of whatever was popular at the time but we had a version of it. 
I'll never forget when Abercrombie & Fitch became popular in middle school. I had to have a shirt from there and my parents bought me the overpriced shirt as desired. A shirt which I wouldn't pay half as much for today with my own money. 
But daddy never bought our love. He taught us how to work for what we wanted, and no matter what it was, if it paid, it was worthy. 
Growing up, dad didn't only have the money for us to play sports, but he made the time to watch and support us. That includes attending hundreds of cheerleading competitions I know he had no interest in. The day I started cheering for sporting events in middle school was probably one of dad's happiest days. He always made time for camping trips and other weekend trips too. We were a family and even when we became teenagers and were too cool to hang out with our parents, we traveled together and did the family thing. Today, I am forever grateful for all the things our parents made us do because it wasn't until recently that I realized how special and significant all of those moments are.

In my eyes, my father is still young but he has reached his goal. He obtained stability. It may not have been his original dream or idea of success, but I think he's happy with the results. My dad's the kind of person who gains pleasure from helping others and if he has made no one else in this world happy but his family, then that'd be enough for him. 
Maybe my idea of dreams and success come from my granddad and stability is one of those genetic traits that skipped a generation like diabetes or something. At the end of the day I'm no where near my dad's level of stability, but I know that people can reach their dreams. I hope his grandkids inherit his humble attitude, his kindness, his strength, his level head and his desire for stability. 

I don't know if this blog makes much sense to anyone else, but as a drifter, the thing I always remember most is, "never forget the road that leads you home." And I think the only reason I am always able to go "home" is because my father built that for our family. A home is more than four walls, isn't it? It's a feeling. On May 4th, after living in China for 10 months, I'm flying back to Louisiana. While in China my parents moved to a new house on the lake. I have no idea how to get there, or what it looks like in it's entirety, but that doesn't matter because it's home. It's home because my father is there.

Many of you know that music is my thing. I get this from my dad, who got it from his father. I'll close with these lyrics. For Thanksgiving dad sent me a Bob Seger CD and told me, "I think you'll like number 8. It reminds me of you. 'All of the Roads.' You are gonna travel a lot of roads in this life, and that's good, but like they say, 'all roads lead home.'" 

Bob Seger- "All of the Roads"

"All of the roads I've run
All of the faces I've left in my wake
Hopin' to leave my mark
Hopin' I gave and I didn't just take
Climbing a mountain many are left behind
Chasing a dream and seeing the world takes time

If you were in my world
If you could feel all the things that I feel
Maybe you'd understand
Every mirage has a certain appeal
After the thrill it's off to indifferent rooms
After the lights the darkness is coming soon

I've done it all before
And I have gone through every door
And I've been right down on the floor and more

All of the roads I've run
All of the years that have fallen away
Light from a distant star
Crossing the void and arriving one day
Oceans of space defending the great unknown
Sooner or later all of us head for home"

A Chinese Easter: Tomb-Sweeping Day

In America, and other Western countries, today is Easter Sunday. The staples of this holiday are hunting Easter eggs, someone getting stuck dressed as the Easter bunny and buying a pretty new Spring dress. And of course, the religious celebration of the day Jesus Christ resurrected from the grave. Whichever reason you choose to celebrate you have already begun, or will begin your day shortly. However, I am winding down my Easter Sunday here in China. 
My typical Sunday consists of waking up at six in the morning and coming home around seven in the evening. However, I too had the pleasure of not working today. Not because the Chinese are celebrating Easter or the resurrection of Christ, but because today is also a national Chinese holiday known as Tomb-Sweeping Day. (Ironically enough, it has nothing to do with Jesus rising from the dead). The date of Easter in Western countries varies, where as Tomb-Sweeping Day is always April 4th or 5th. It's 107 days after the start of Winter so depending on the Lunar Calendar it's the fourth or fifth day of April. 
It's a three-day holiday known as Qingming Jie (清明节) to the Chinese which means "clear and bright." Here is what I 
found out about the holiday. 

The Origin (according to some website on Google):

It's said Qingming Festival was originally held to commemorate a loyal man named Jie Zitui. Jie cut a piece of meat from his leg to save his hungry Lord, Chong'er, who was forced into exile when his crown was in jeopardy. Chong'er came back to his position 19 years later, and eventually became King Jinwen Gong, forgetting about Jie Zitui. But, later the king felt ashamed and decided to reward Jie Zitui. However, Jie had hidden himself in a mountain with his mother. In order to find Jie, King Gong ordered the mountain to be set on fire to force Jie out. Later Jie was found dead with his mother. In order to commemorate Jie, the Lord ordered the day Jie died as Hanshi Festival. This meant no one could set fires and was also known as Cold Food Festival since there was no fire, there was no warm food.
The next year, King Jinwen Gong returned to the mountain to make a sacrifice to Jie and noticed a Willow Tree had grown at the site so he declared the day after Hanshi Festival to be Pure Brightness Festival (named after the Willow). Later, the two holidays became one known as Qingming Festival. 

The Customs (according to some website on Google):

1. Obviously visiting tombs of ancestors and paying respects. Lighting incense and candles, etc.
2. It's also custom to enjoy the Spring sunshine. Take a walk and enjoy the new season, fly kites, play games, etc.
3. Flying kites is a really popular custom. Many people will tie a lantern to them in the night and then cut the kite string to let it fly away.


So, I woke up this morning and thought nothing more of Tomb-Sweeping day than a free day off. I woke up, wrote a lithe, went for a three-mile run, sat outside and soaked up some sunshine. When I came back to my apartment my roomies wanted to go out and enjoy the day so I quickly showered and we all headed down line 1 to Yuantan Park. 

It turns out we celebrated Tomb-Sweeping day exactly how were were supposed to. The park was jam-packed, which isn't surprising for a sunny day in China. When the sun is shining, the population of humans nearly doubles. We meandered abound awhile enjoying all the Cherry Blossoms and finally found a grassy spot to relax in. 
Jianzi is the Chinese version of hackey-sak played with a feathered shuttlecock. The five of us, all foreigners except Amy, my roommates girlfriend, circle around to play. Within seconds the Chinese are stopping to stare. Foreigners (laowai) are a big attraction in public tourist spaces in China, however, we believe we had so many spectators today because we are all utterly disastrous at Jianzi. People are using their selfie sticks to take pictures with us playing in the background. Eventually, a few locals join us and we realized the key to the game is to just have as many people as possible. We played for about an hour and it was quite the scene and quite the time. 

When we got home I wanted to share my photos from the day of course but decided I needed to know what Tomb-Sweeping Day was. I had no idea about the customs and traditions until I came home. It seems it's a holiday for welcoming sunshine and happiness, which we all did. 

Painting ceramics

 

Lotus root

 

 

 

 

Inked.

A little food for thought.

A few days ago I was thumbing through wechat moments (like a Facebook status feed) and someone posted, "How do people even get ideas to get a tattoo? I've never envisioned a single thing to ink on myself."
The comment obviously came from someone who had no tattoos. My thought was, "I'm sorry they've had nothing significant enough in their life to ink on themselves."

I have four tattoos. Each one bares an extremely deep and meaningful point to who I am, who I was or I hope to be.

My response to the post was, "For motivation, for remembrance. Passion. Art. For any other number of things."
Their response was, "But then I remember it in my head or take a picture. Why wear it on your body? I'm not criticizing, just curious."

Again, I pitied their lack of passion. Any logical person realizes that pictures, as well as memories, fade over time. (Yes, tattoos, too.)

I believe there are three reasons most people will get tattoos:
1. Obviously a young boy or girl who turned 18 and can legally do so in rebellion to their parents' wishes. Or simply because it's a coming of age thing.
2. Art. The body is a canvas as well.
3. Those who need a permanent push. Those who have endured. Those who have suffered great loss. I.e. Losing a loved one or nearly losing yourself or conquering something or pushing toward something.

I  am the third. Although they are small, I never imagined I'd have four tattoos. On that note, I can say for certain four reasons for having a tattoo based on my own.

1. "Love yourself" on my left shoulder blade. This tattoo is a reminder. Because should my memory or heart ever fail me, if I look in the mirror or a reflection I will see this. I will remember to put myself and my own desires first. Always. People can break hearts, but if we don't love ourselves, we can break our own hearts.
2. Music notes behind my right ear for love. This one is simple. Music is the biggest part of my life. I have no musical talent but I have an ear for it. No matter how hard a day, or month is, music can always heal. Music is also one of the many bonds I share with my father.
3. A semicolon; because there is always something else to say. For motivation, this one is on the inside of my middle finger on my left hand. This is for my writing. Whenever I feel writer's block or that there is nothing left to say, I look at my paused left hand and press the pen a bit further.
4. 忍 (ren, third tone) in traditional Chinese character. Because this serves greater meaning than one word in English. This tattoo is on my right wrist. It serves many purposes for me. The first is perseverance. The meaning itself means "endure" in English. It is a push to continue with positivity because life continues, whether we want it to or not. Secondly, it serves as a reminder to remember how far I've come and that when this adventure ends another will begin. I got this tattoo in Chinese because it serves a greater meaning that way and because I am a different person from when I first came to China. I wanted something to remember how significant living in this country was for me and who I became here.

The point is, you shouldn't ridicule, but question a person's choice of ink because most likely, there is a great or interesting story behind it.

*Note: Obviously I don't think people without tattoos have nothing important or significant to remember. People with tattoos just choose to do so differently.

Turning a Quarter of a Century!

A quarter of a century. Damn...

It seems I've done it all at this point. I've certainly done more in the last two years than most will do in their lifetime. And it's definitely more than I ever imagined I would see or do.

At 23 I went to Europe and I only dreamt each year would be better than that. When you want it badly enough, dreams really do come true. It's harder than hell, but we do it anyway. Hellos and goodbyes become easier. Loneliness becomes peace. And fear becomes excitement.

Today I'm 25. For years I've never felt any different on the anniversary of my birth. I suppose it never meant much. However, I've been feeling 25 for a few weeks now. I'm actually feeling my age. Late nights are becoming harder to recover from and early mornings happen regardless of when I go to sleep (or how much longer I'd like to sleep). 

Lately I've been making life choices based on feelings more than logic. It may seem moronic to some of you, but I suppose living in China appears equally the same. In order to live my life by following my heart, I can't make decisions based on logic. The logic will come later. And if it doesn't, there are ways around the struggles. 

Because I'm feeling 25, I know it's going to be great. What will happen in another year, only the future will tell. One day I'll stop and smell the roses, but for now I'm a radiant wildflower among the weeds (or something poetic). 

Maybe for my 26th birthday I'll be blogging from a cushy desk job state side, but I highly doubt that. 

Once upon a time, I had an entirely different picture of where I'd be at 25, but life has a way of alternating our plans for better ones. 

Wherever I go, and whatever I do, from here on out, will be for the good. I've gotten all the trying and experimenting wild side days out of my way. Now, I will live knowing I have no regrets and no 'what ifs' left in life. There are no mistakes, just experiences. And I strongly believe that we choose our own paths in this world. 

For a long time I was bitter about life in general because let's be honest, this shit is hard; and you only have one go at it so we're learning as we go. You make plans and have dreams but life gets in the way and you re-route your course. You can read 1,000 books, listen to 100 speeches and watch countless documentaries, but no matter the amount of those things, in reality, the only guide we have here are ourselves. 

Over the years I've really discovered who I am. I'm still learning and I realize humans are forever changing so in a way I will always be learning about myself. 

I'm going to quote Taylor Swift here, judge if you will but this lyric has gotten me through some hard days. 

"Who you were is not who you'll grow up to be." 

Just think about that one...

I've been told often, and I now embrace this quality, that my worst trait is seeing the best in people. I like this about me because when everyone else dislikes someone, I may be the one person who doesn't. There is something good in everyone. You just have to want to see it. Sure that means I get hurt more and maybe I'm sensitive but at least this hard world hasn't taken my naivety. I think on the worst of days, in the worst of situations, it's the only thing that keeps us going sometimes. 

Thing number two that I know about myself is that I'm spontaneous. Not about going to dinner or a movie, shopping, weekend getaways, and such but spontaneous about bigger choices like moving to a new city or a new continent... 

I can't say who I will be next week or in my next 25 years, but I can say that I will do my damnedest to cling to those two things about myself because the combination of those two things have put me where I am today, which is exactly where I need to be. My spontaneity led me to adventures and my love of people has put unlimited souls in my life who inspire and encourage me be it for a month or eternity. 

Two years ago, when I took my first adventure I was lost. I was searching for anything and nothing all at once. Not knowing what I was looking for made the journey a mystery, which at times was difficult, but in the end I am grateful for the ignorance. I found myself when I needed her most, and when I least expected it. I have many people to thank for helping me along the way, but today, I just want to high five myself for taking the road less traveled. People are constantly encouraging and motivating each other, but that means nothing if you can't motivate and encourage yourself. (Hints my left shoulder blade that reads, "love yourself").

I used to mock people who "needed to find themselves," until I realized it existed. I realized it because I needed it, too. I had no idea who I was when 2013 began. You need to hit rock bottom, skint knees and all, before you can resurface. 

The less traveled, unpredictable road is for the wandering and the wondering. People choose a nomadic lifestyle for many reasons. Whichever one you choose, make it count. When I chose this life I was running away. I was lost and scared as hell. But I chose it and stuck to it no matter how hard it got. I'll be damned if I was going to be labeled a quitter. But, once I dug my hole deep enough, I began to resurface. (The joke about digging a hole to China seems awfully fitting here right now, ha). 

Now, the only thing I fear is fear itself. I guess Shakespeare was right about that one. To me, fear is everything I see back home. I'm afraid of becoming mundane and predictable (no offense) and fearing the rest of the world because I watch too much TV and think it's scary and dangerous. I never want to choose comfort over adventure. What I mean by that is only sticking to what I know or what is expected.

However, I also realize you can have the whole package as long as adventure remains in your heart. Adventure, can be anywhere as long as it's in you. Adventure is a verb, adventurous is an adjective. I use the word adventure as a verb with the meaning of doing anything out of our comfort zone. Something that is new. 

Sure an adventure is climbing Mt. Everest, but it can also be going on that first date after a long divorce. An adventure is moving to a country where you know no one and no thing, but it's also getting lost in the pages of a good book and shutting out the rest of the world. 

Watching the sun rise and set over an unknown horizon from a train window is an adventure, but so is watching your kid board the school bus for his first day of Kindergarten. 

What I'm saying is some day it will be ok to return to home and predictability because adventure comes in different stages, just as life does. 

But for now, I'm simply 25 and it's going to be a damn good day! :) 

Heavy hearts and smiling faces.

Living in China puts me 13 hours ahead of my friends and family back home. Therefore, I speak with them in the wee hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning. I wake up to a WeChat (a Chinese app used for texting, similar to WhatsApp), from my mom just about every morning. It's a nice way to start the day because it's almost like talking to her face-to-face, except I'm drinking coffee to wake up and she's removing the day's makeup with a warm washcloth before heading to bed.  

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic so bare with me because this blog might be all over the place, but I assure you it has a point and a purpose. 

The first blog I ever wrote was, "The Pink Lady." Although she was a stranger to me, she made quite the impression as she was the one who inspired me to begin blogging. And I daresay she was quite the hit among my readers. 

To quickly sum up "The Pink Lady," she was a 60-something-year-old woman who was fighting her third bat of cancer with the utmost optimism and grace. 

This morning's WeChat message from my mom asked if I was awake yet because they were at the hospital...

My cousin Amy has been fighting Kidney Cancer for the past year. Because cancer seems to be taking over the world in a hideous manner, I think at this stage of the game we all know someone (even if just through someone else) who has become victim to the the devil that walks earth under the alias of "Cancer." I think the diagnosis alone can often take five years off the strongest person's life. 

Often times cancer, no matter the kind, consumes the life of it's host in the worst way. They become weak and fragile. But not Amy...

I come from a long line of strong women, physically, mentally and emotionally. We laugh when we shouldn't and sometimes we cuss a bit too much (me more than any of them). We stick to our guns. We always keep family first and we defend them, even the crazy ones. We speak our minds. You get the idea...

My maternal side of the family is quite large thanks to the seven great aunts and uncles between my Granny and Pawpaw. Keep in mind each of them had at least two children and each of their children have at least two children. But we're southern so let's be realistic, most have more. :) Anyway, Amy is my second cousin so I suppose that's extended family. But since I can name up to my third and fourth cousins, she isn't as extended as most. And because I don't keep up with rankings, she is simply my family. . 

My family is huge, but we're close. Like every family, people grow up and have their own families so it becomes difficult to manage seeing everyone regularly. And although each family within the big picture of my kinfolks is constantly growing, somehow, we always managed this, usually with a fish fry, a bonfire or a BBQ. You miss a few years in between and maybe their kids are four instead of one now, but you pick up where you left off the last time you saw each other. 

You tell the Ace Hardware story every time you're together because it never gets old. My aunts and uncles talk about former family functions when their aunts and uncles were drinking and someone did this or someone said that. It's just a big "remember when" gathering and it's beautiful every time. 

Because our family is so large, there is never a shortage in gatherings. And when something bad happens, we're always there, no matter how far. 

I know Amy sees that now. My mom assures me there is a room full of people by my dear cousin's side at all times. I don't doubt it for a second. I've always known how lucky I am to have such a large family, because when life gets hard, they're there. And because there is never a dull conversation with my family, you can distract yourself from the real reason you're all gathered in a hospital room.

When my Pawpaw died I remember that I never saw my Granny cry. This was because she is the matriarch of our clan and she had to keep the rest of us functional. At this point she needed to be strong for the rest of us. I say that to say, right now, Amy doesn't need to be strong for her family. And she isn't choosing to be strong; she simply is strong. The fact that she has remained Amy through this year means she didn't lose her battle with cancer, it means she kicked it's ass because she never let it take her spirit. 

Amy,

I can't visit you with the rest of our family and a FaceTime peak at your smiling face just didn't seem like enough for someone such as you. I'm not good with goodbyes, and I'm surprisingly terrible at finding the right words to say, so this is why I write. 

So here is what I couldn't say the other day...

You are a beautiful soul, and I don't say that because we're family and I have to, I say that because of what you give our family. At the next fish fry or BBQ, I promise you'll be the center of conversation. You'll be the aunt or cousin we tell funny stories about. Because that's all a family gathering is isn't it? Telling the stories of the ones we love. The ones who are hardest to lose because they bring so much spark. 

Last night a friend told me he loved the energy I bring to a room, and until this morning, I didn't realize it but it's either genetic or comes with the name because you do the same. :)

You told mama you were proud of me for being in China, and I want to return the compliment by saying I'm proud of you for winning.

Remember the other day when I told you about my students calling me "Big Amie," well, I hope I can be half the Big Amie to someone as you, my Big Amy, are to us. Thank you for all the July 4ths at your beautiful home and more importantly, thank you for setting the bar so high for this Little Amie. 

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This blog may be morbid, and if that's how you see it then it isn't for you. This blog is for Amy, my cousin who beat cancer. And for our family who will lose more life than Amy by losing her. I love you and I wish you peace.