Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Aaron's LiveJournal:

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Monday, May 12th, 2008
9:42 pm	bum rap shouts on city streets awakening bitter cold no sleep to be found what joy, a sunrise! what grace, to see each day full sharpened by hunger. -- hunger's bitter ache sharpens smell and taste, beauty! breaking dawn, so clear! I've walked long, from where? nowhere but here. now, always. this freedom, this joy. (Comment on this)
Friday, March 14th, 2008
11:24 pm	poem Here's what I think every day: I should go outside.  Fresh air is great. I want to watch tv. Let me eat. Where is she? Would she see me outside? Watching tv? Let her eat with me. (Comment on this)
Saturday, November 24th, 2007
12:13 pm	It’s 7:38. I don’t have much time. I’ve got to write a poem with a reason or a rhyme. It’s 7:39. It’s getting far too late. I’ve got a thirst for brilliance, that a few minutes won’t sate. Right now it’s Friday night, the day after the meal, I wanted to talk of love and of light, I wanted to discuss how I feel. But it’s too late for that. It’s 7:42. It’s too late for anything deep. Too late to get all blue. Too late to bring you close to sleep, then lighten up the mood. Now it’s 7:43, people are moving up. I’ve introduced the scene, but as of yet, there’s no point. Here then, is my attempt, loosely put, out of joint:   The theme for this age is thanksgiving, and we all know that we can thank. We can thank for food, family and friends we can thank for the means to reach our ends.   it’s 7:46 I’ve still reached no point, but here is my point, loosely put, out of joint.   I’m writing this poem, in a bubble of time, I’ve been put out for weeks, I’ve not made a rhyme. I’ve not written words, I’ve not felt much joy, I’ve been treating my life, like a rather dull toy.   On Monday I arrived here, from a bog and on Tuesday I survived, the end, I hope of a month of solid brainfog.   I’ve lived in the south, Rambled circles from my mouth, I’ve lived my life with the impulsiveness of a sick dog.   And here I am now, back at home, and it is 7:49. And here I am now, writing this poem. And this poem is mine. But this poem is written from darkness to light this poem is written from a yearning to bright this poem might seem to be quick written fluff but it’s a symbol, that of apathy, I’ve had quite enough. The ending to a month of brainfog, the ending to my month as a sick dog, the re-awakening of a person who cares: I’m aware, that this is thanks to the positive energy the teamwork and the synergy of the Morrisons and the Reeds. So in that sense thanksgiving is a time for thanksgiving and though this poem is not riveting it is full of meaning.   It’s 7:52. And I’m still feeling blue. But my mind has formed a tunnel, that I am walking through. Give thanks to the food, the family, and friends, and give thanks to the chances for light, that never end. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 29th, 2007
11:42 pm	fiction She stood by dress blowing gently the coastline sending the wind to her the sunset listening in; behind her,  sitting stooped inside a cardboard box he continued speaking, his coarse voice against her delicate ears his defeated heart against her wistful youth "I won't even make you sign a pre-nup" he said it was his tenth reason, and his cigerette-ridden lungs, wheezing and coarse as they were pumping like a bellows, would keep on giving wind to his words so long as she lingered there back turned listening. (Comment on this)
Friday, September 21st, 2007
12:09 pm	For a storyteller, I often have difficulty taking stories out of my everyday life.  At least, interesting ones. Maybe I'm not a storyteller after all.  Maybe I'm a thinker who uses stories to share his thoughts, and so the stories that strike me aren't stories at all, but rather, symbols of whatever thoughts I've been mulling over.  So if no thoughts have struck me recently that I want to share, than the stories of my life would not seem so relavent. That's possible. Let's assess with a quick preview of stories I COULD tell, and we can decide if they'd be fit for livejournal. -The litle girl I'm living with who tried to lock me in hear room and strip.  Granted she was trying on costumes but nevertheless I opened that door again as soon as she stepped away from it. -My friend who offered me to stay in her bed for 230 a month. -My job which has me shave at work if I'm looking scruffy. -Sleeping on the floor -Biking everywhere with squeaky gears. -thinking about hitting on people, but not actually doing anything. -having a 'man' night with this old classmate of mine:  watching T2, drinking bear, and talking about girls. These are things that flit about my head when I try to think of what stories to tell, but for some reason I find it difficult or uninteresting to elaborate any further on them.  I have trouble with lifejournal, I think.  I mainly just want to write fiction. I guess I should. Bitabetta- Thanks for your remarks on home the other day.  They were both wise and smile-making, as you wrote in much the same fashion as I tend to.  I appreciated it muchly. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 19th, 2007
5:54 pm	prose She grabbed me by the cuff of my neck and declared "Ahhahahaha!  So cute!  And look at his serious little face!" From then on I was hers, though I'd be lying if I said I hadn't already considered her.  I've never been much for mewing but I was certainly no stranger to hunger, and I'd seen her prancing about in her colorful outfits and her clear, energetic voice. Here's someone who could take care of me, I thought.  And when I finally got up the courage to pad over to her, and let out a couple soft meows and a low purr, she accepted my advances. From then on, it was pure love.  She'd dance for me and talk to me about all her problems, and I'd snuggle up to her and do my best to make her happy.  Once, when she was starving, I gave her some of the food I'd stashed away for hard times (cat food can in fact be eaten by a human in desperation).  She didn't, in fact, feed me, but she provided me with friendship, and the hope of a home. I'm not sure what it is she wanted, but I could tell at a certain point that she wasn't enjoying me as much as she thought she could.  I tried to mew and purr like I'd done that first day, but she would just absently pat me on the head.  The warmth was less, and it began to feel like she'd only pet me to soothe her own worries, rather than out of any affection.  Soon, even those selfish pats became rare. I starved for her affection.  I said I'm not one to mew, but I mewed.  I scratched at her door.  I left offerings, dead mice mainly, at her feet.  To these she'd smile warmly, but leave without so much as a stroke under my chin.  It was terrible to bear.  I left her, then.  I knew I'd waste away if I lingered, so I left.  But her beauty never left me, her charm, nor the feel of her hand on my head, her nails behind my ears. I found more food, other friends, other people to pretend to be my family only to leave me behind again.  I learned yet again how to fend for myself. Once, in the cold rain, I came to her doorstep again- not for love, just for a place to stay.  She said I could only stay if I had more food.  She had never even repayed me for the food she'd given me. I left. To this day, I would still help her, love her- but only if convenient, and never with my heart. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, September 7th, 2007
11:55 am	The incredible five minute entry. Ladies and gentlemen who listen to me as I write from with the library.  Allow me to tell you this:  there are many homes out there, and none is so precious as the one which is yours.   But the lovely thing is is how many places can be home.  Frankly I'm in favor of everywhere being home, but this is a mildly difficult task.  Ok, I'm bored now.  That was only one and a half minutes.  Take care. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 5th, 2007
10:59 pm	This is true. This is also a metaphor.   When I get in a hot tub, it feels so good.  Damn.  It's like, warm, no, hot, and soothing, and the bubbles, and the cool night air, god, it doesn't just feel good, it feels great.  After awhile though, oh man, I start getting thirsty, so I drink, and then I get too hot, so I take more of my body out of the water, and then I get sweaty, which I ignore, but I inevitably remain in the hot tub.  I stay until I am basically acclimated.  The discomfort usually settles at a 4, while the pleasure coasts along at a 6.5.  And- this balance would probably remain for hours.   This is true.   This is also a metaphor.   Let me rephrase.   Life can, if we decide to, be thought of in terms of phases.  Big phases, and little phases. The big ones include relationships, jobs, classes or schools, and places of living.  The little phases include the party you're at, the meal you're eating, or the sunrise you are gazing at from the bow of a ferry.   For as long as I can remember, I have had difficulty moving from one phase to the next.  As a general rule, I can find quite a decent amount of happiness in whatever long-term phase I'm in, and a fair amount of comfort in most short-term phases, but the transitions are a pain.  I can't decide when to get out of that jacuzzi, and when I finally do decide, it takes me forever to actually muster up the kinetic energy to actually climb out.  (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, July 21st, 2007
7:06 pm	Abstrurd I was in a sandlot today, childrend was swinging on ropes hanging from the ground, the pitter patter of litter feet as they giggled, whoosh "don't get too close to the water kids, you could stub your toe" because that's dangerous- I borrowed the rope and did my best but thems kidlles did somersaults and my I just pulled and pulled and with a brief surge of chemicals through my old and drowned out system I returned the line to the next little fisherman; Shane handed me back my bottle of rocks and I took a swig before sandboxing up back through the rabbit hole BAM and the three of us, his wife and me and my dear friend's husband made our way away from the mugrats and the rocksellers and brushed aside offers of totem pools and laced necks and bowls of air and cheap regrets... so we found ourselves in relative isolation, things were as empty as one could expect from any cupboard, grass was doing its best at world domination and the cool kids were sitting on a cloud in the distance- public toilets overflowed behind closed doors so we took some more steps and found ourselves. Oh, this waterfall of brown hair and permanent plastic stuck temporarily to his face hopped and stumbled down one more eons old pile of sand to watch more rocks be whisked by, rivering along and boring away the watery beach, it's confusing; and above me Shane stepped off the edge, clinging with his toes to that one extra long thorn as he grappled for a ripe berry to present his wife and Becca cried out, "No, dear, no, the thorns come off and then you'll be down with Aaron and he's a wolf, a beast, a satyr, see, don't die, dear" and I said "ho ho" and he said "very well, I will not die" so he did not. Like a husky then I mushed and crushed my way back up, furthering the erosion which had made this small cliff in a slow mo explosion till I found myself chest high in sand and rather unwilling to dirty my already filthified hands, "thank you Shane, but I'm still a man" and I was drawn up like rocks in a well whose rope is anchored to an angel. now, the stage was really set not for more blackberries, of which, yes there were some, but for manlitests for after being elevated to new heights contrary to my own muscle power I felt the need to assert some things so I launched myself over a picnic table, over the benches anyways and he launched himself over the same way and lo, we were both men, and the wife swooned (for him and his grace) and we came upon another table and he said "I wonder if, as I once could, I could jump over this table, longwise instead of fat" "no way" said I, but he did and on the clouds on the distance, the cool kids cheered, and I had to do it too, so I did, exhilarated but put in my place as well, for the groundbreaking had been broken by the Pick who'd been picking the longest, who'd always done the picking the first, and who'd shown me how to pick in the first place. This is the tale of an apprentice spring-pick, graduated top of the class but having never actually exceeded his master. This is the tale of a blackberry bush that wasn't quite ripe. This is the tale of a rope that couldn't swing far enough. This is (n't) the tale of an unspoken story in which decisions aren't made and the results are quite gory. I was born in a cold white house, and it may have been red and I grew up a boy, then chose manhood instead and it's my pride and joy, to introduce you to a life full of love, that you probably knew. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, July 19th, 2007
5:34 pm	actual post Sometimes there's a problem with livejournal. The great thing about livejournal is this: People read it. And myself, I find it much easier to write something when I know that other people will read it. Otherwise, it can be hard to find the motivation. But sometimes the things I'd most like to write about, the things that I actually care to put into words, are things that I don't want to make available to the public eye. So I don't write them. And instead I write about cats and furballs and ice wrapped in seran wrap. Sometimes these things are metaphors, and that can satisfy me. Sometimes I find them pretty, and that can satisfy me. But sometimes I just feel like I'm holding back, fearing the wrong person will read the wrong post and feelings will be hurt, relationships damaged, and bam, I have my first lj drama. As I recently mentioned to someone, I don't really like people to know personal things about me that I didn't tell them myself. It makes me uncomfortable. Probably half the poems on my lj are my efforts to do genuine journaling without disclosing anything too personal. The public eye supports and hinders at the same time. Right now I am house-sitting for my married friends, petting th3ir catz and eating th3ir f00d. Driving their car too. Sw33t. Last night I met my friend Josh and showed him my new instrument from China. Then I met my friend Lizzie and ate grilled cheese and went swing dancing. Bumped into Haley at the swing dance. Onwards. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 18th, 2007
12:30 am	Fire hurts my footsies Usually my callused heels are wrapped in ice wrapped in wraps with oils, scented spice I reek while walking welcome roads but ice will always melt sometime, it's in the dice. I walk on coals at times with my wrapped feet they burn but my ice often protects me sometimes, however the plastic melts away my ice is off and I must face the heat and when the ice is gone the heat doubles and lo I face more fire than the combined flames of any of my friends. (Comment on this)
Monday, July 16th, 2007
11:03 pm	When furballs go bad I thought that the cat was just a cat the heartless bastard ate my rat I'd set them up for dinner and some dimes and dishcloths next, I found a tail, some fur and bones and a short, handwritten text, it said: "I've never really loved someone the way I love your mom when she comes to visit me, I feel so warm. your mom I'll say's superior to you in every way. scratching my chin and belly while you talk about your day" I found it strange to read my cat via this scummy note aside the corpse of Squeakers who knew the "Witches" words by rote. for, compliments maternal are fine and grand enough but there was no reference to the murder and I thought that rather gruff. simply: "I've never really loved someone the way I love your mom when she comes to visit me, I feel so warm. your mom I'll say's superior to you in every way, scratching my chin and belly while you talk about your day" I gave my rat a funeral, with some mice in monkey suits I wore my penguin coattails had a satyr play the lute when I turned to read his marble stone "Sqeakers", date, and all I found another note nearby, with letters long and tall, it said "I've never really loved someone the way I love your mom when she comes to visit me, I feel so warm. your mom I'll say's superior to you in every way, scratching my chin and belly while you talk about your day" so this is how it is I thought and this time I thought right the cat was just a cat, I guess the bastard ate my rat and it seems he likes my mother more well that's one more thing to boot I sent him on his way, with a knapsack full of newts I asked him in the driveway, for any final words "Ice cream is delicious, and you're a blooming nerd" and then: "I've never really loved someone the way I love your mom when she comes to visit me, I feel so warm. your mom I'll say's superior to you in every way, scratching my chin and belly while you talk about your day" (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, July 2nd, 2007
11:35 pm	Last night in China Well well well. Today is my last night in Shanghai. Yes indeed. As I wrote to one of my AMERICAN friends, there are some things I am already missing. Things besides the obvious. The obvious things are my family, my new friends, the cheap food, and the good-to-find money. However. There are other things to be found in Shanghai. More subtle things. Things that the brief visitor might not notice, or appreciate. Such as. Men in their underwear lounging about in front of deserted skyscrapers late at night, drinking, eating, or just chatting. Lovers sitting all over: the subway, the park, the bushes, the gardens...last night I saw two people sitting together, arm in arm, on an unmoving escalator off a pedestrian overpass, gazing into the city, or nothingness, or their own love. Woman holding hands is nice, but not unheard of in the U.S. What is unheard of is the way men touch here. I have seen multiple young guys not only walking with their arms around each other, but resting their heads on each others' shoulders, or hands, or knees. Men touch in the U.S., but they are usually careful to avoid intimacy. I don't see that here. Today was the only time I saw something to make me beleive otherwise: Two boys and a girl, maybe in their late teens, were standing on the subway together. The girl, short and spunky, was laughingly stretching to show how she could just barely reach the support rail. One of the boys easily held the rail for stability, and the other boy held the first boy's shoulder. An unneccesary but sweet gesture, considering the second boy also could have reached the rail. However, unlike other situations that I have seen in China, boy #1 didn't seem to like the hand on his shoulder, as he kind of shrugged it off (maybe even removed it with his hand). So the second boy moved his hand onto the support rail, putting his hand OVER the first boy's hand. A very intimate gesture, I think. At this point, after a moment, the first boy turned to the girl, and said something, pointedly nodding to the hand which was covering his. Then he moved his hand out from underneath the other boy's hand. The other boy now put out his thumb to maintain contact with the first boy's hand, but then changed his mind a moment later and broke contact. Then they all got off the subway. There's only so far you can take this without more information. I couldn't understand what they were saying, I could only read body language. I can guess that the situation was one of two things: -Chinese gaydar is different than American gaydar, allowing men to snuggle without guilt; but the first boy's gaydar was being triggered and he felt uncomfortable with that. or -the first boy, for whatever reason, was less comfortable with physical contact than the second boy. It was interesting. Strangely sweet. I'd like to keep listing off these things, these sweet moments and missable features of this world, but it's getting late, and I have yet to pack or write final cards of farewell. We're leaving the apartment at 10:30 tommorow. One more home left behind. Good thing home is where the Aaron is. I've been saying goodbye to my friends, left and right, and realizing that some of these people who I barely saw while I was in China really had the potential to be good friends. Upon talking to some of my friends, who I have only hung out with several times in Shanghai, I realized that we could have actually been stronger friends, but instead I slept till noon and lay around the house all day until work. The same is true, I beleive, with several other of the, quite very awesome people I have met here. I have no real regrets in this case, but the thought that maybe I should seize the moment more, in almost all situations. Limited time is not a reason not to make friends, or to act in any situation, but rather a reason to act faster, react sooner, invest more. My apologies to good times we could have had, but my thanks for the lesson, hopefully learned. Love to any jung gua ren who are reading this, and see you soon to all y'all others. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, June 29th, 2007
12:55 pm	last week Hokay. This is my last week in China. This time, anyway. Things I have left to do: See my high school friend. See my composer friend. Buy: Chromatic Harmonica, standard harmonica, cool chinese wind instrument thingy. Any souveneirs which occur to me (probably none) Print business cards. Print flight itinerary. Get DVD of all my downloaded music from Juan (my dad's friend who loaned me his computer). Get CD with swing music from Orchid (the swing dance organizer). Go to one, final swing dance class. Smother my sister with hugs and kisses and say goodbye. Maybe go clubbing first. Go to one final Shanghai swing dance. Say goodbye to all them folks. Eat a real, live, chinese burrito? I don't know. Maybe that simply was never destined to happen. If I do it, who to do it with? See Liwen. By the way, since my last post I did a couple things worth mentioning. I threw up a whole lot, and I saw the great wall of china. The first one was really lame, but the second one was one of the highlights of my trip. It blew my mind and I was exhilerated for the better part of the day. Beautiful scenery, fresh air, immensely long wall. That's a lot of stone. I peed. Something we all must do. I have this chinese pop song stuck in my head. It's cheesy, catchy, and after I leave I may never hear it again. Should I feel sad about this? Now, I am very hungry. I don't know what this day holds. But maybe I should go check it out. Shabbat Shalom. Aaron (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, June 17th, 2007
10:40 pm	Best wishes from China. It's funny, it seems like just hours ago that I was in the mountains watching a post-pubescent bald-headed kung fu kid flirting with a cute chinese girl, but now I'm sitting in a hotel lobby in a city called Luyang. A lot can change over the course of a day, and even more can change over the course of several weeks. Luyang is rather magnificent in it's miles of seemingly identical shops, it's massive population of young, attractive women, and fantastically non-aggressive salespeople. In fact, that attitude spreads everywhere, making for a general mood of openness and welcome. I think that I could make friends here easily, if I tried, and perhaps even if I did not. A striking contrast to Huangshan, the tourist-dependant town on the base of the most beautiful mountain in China. Luyang is a nice, dusty town, large, sprawling, and to the foreign eye rather devoid of landmarks. But there is there flowery bridge crossing the river, which is bordered by ancient walls; there is the movie theater which plays foreign (american and european) films dubbed in chinese; there is "bus and train road" where the little vans are a plenty, and the people never stop a'comin to offer you rides to wherever you may want to go. Besides the immense charm offered by the populace (and I'm not being sarcastic here: I genuinely am charmed, almost every moment I spend among the people here) the city borders some presumably amazing sights: The cave of ten thousand buddhas, the grotto of a thousand bamboo, and the tomb of the severed head. Ok, these places are kind of made up, but there is a cave full of many many buddhas, and a grotto of many trees, and something about a severed head. We'll go there tommorow. We: The angel Aaron, the goddess Erika, and the guru Larry. That is, my family with all our modesty. Today we took a mid-length busride to the Shaolin temple and watched a kung fu demonstration before exploring the actual birthplace of Kung Fu. The demonstration was good: people floated stomach down in the air for short periods of time, a small boy did push-ups and a handstand using a total of only four fingers to hold himself, and a man chosen from the audience moved like a marrionette but did a remarkable job of mimicking the movements (including rising to a handstand from an upward laying position) of one of the Kung Fu students. At the temple itself I meditated by a tree and demanded money from a chinese. He wanted his picture taken with me, what would YOU have done? He cringed at my offer but I took the picture anyway, making a fist and an angry face. I'm either the coolest foreigner ever now, or the wierdest. Now, before coming to Luyang, and after the stalker-town of Haungshan, we sojourned in Nanjing, one of the former capitals of China (that's the country I am in). On the bus from Haungshan we'd been lucky enough to meet two great girls, Shufan and Wang Nan Xi, who hooked us up with a hotel in Nanjing, and then spent the next two days with us. They were very helpful and kind, and paid equally for meals. At the end of the trip Wang Nan Xi (who had the stronger english of the two) gave us all gifts. She gave me a CD with piano solos on it, Erika a french movie (very appropriate), and dad a beautiful card written in chinese. The chinese give gifts at unexpected times. This is very intimidating for me, as I rarely even give gifts at the expected times. But, touching. I miss them already. Wang Nan Xi's accent was such that whenever she said "yeah" it was drawn out and packed with whatever emotion she was feeling at the moment. Unlike anything I'd heard before and quite endearing. I intend to practice. Haungshan: The mountain, Yellow Mountain, was beautiful. Breathtaking. And we didn't even climb the main mountain. The city was stepford wives in china. Everyone knew each other and would scratch each other's backs at our expense, sending the 'stupid foreigners' from train station to bus to hotel to restaurant to hiking trail...we managed to escape the cycle but it was disconcerting. We met a helpful man named Mr. Wu who introduced us to his friend (a taxi driver) and invited us to resteraunt later ("I'll send a taxi to pick you up for free!"). Thanks Mr. Wu! A couple hours later at the hotel, Erika looks out the window, and, oh wow, look, Mr. Wu is here to check on us! That is, he's standing outside our hotel by his scooter/motercycle...standing...standing...ohp, he's gone, must be coming inside...nope...nope, ohp, now his scooter is gone. It was kind of like a horror movie. These stalkerish tendencies prevented us from taking up his offer of a ride, but we did look at his resteraunt from a distance that evening, standing in the dark street gazing into its small windows. It had foreigners and a poor vibe, so we walked stealthily away. A block later, a glistening, out of breath Mr. Wu comes running up to us and desperately attempts to convince us to come back. When we tell him we just want a walk, he says 'ok' and then follows at a distance of about 10 meters! Later, we finally lose him. We went to a nice resteraunt and had fanTASTIC chinese food. The people there were decent, helpful, and non-pushy. We lingered there for a couple hours, and then the owner said she'd take us to a foot massage place. Mmm, sounds nice. Outside the resteraunt we bumped into Mr. Wu, who was apparently waiting for a friend, while standing stationary in the middle of the road staring at the resteraunt we'd been eating at. We left town promptly the next day, met the girls, and the rest is history. Oh, and I'm done teaching english for now, but damn that's a pretty sweet job. (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 9th, 2007
9:08 am	I thought it'd be fun to post while I'm half asleep, only I'm waking up now, so it's not as much fun. It's 9am for me now, which is probably the equivalent of 6am for most of you as I've been getting up at about 12 most days. Tried to go to bed early at 12, but couldn't fall asleep till onethirty. Last night I had a dream that I took a plane to China, but it crashed, and I forgot to return it to the airline, so I just rode it around like a motercycle. Then I flew it back to the usa, and then back to china. Finally I returned it, but by this time I was in huge trouble 'cause I'd basically stolen a plane. The investigation team seemed sympathetic, though I wasn't sure if that would help me or not. They made me swear on a bible that my testimony was true. It was a shame. Riding on the top of that plan like a motorcycle was pretty awesome. Later I dreamt that I had plans with different people and that I was being rude to JVG. Sadly that's happened too often. JENNIFER I MISS YOU! WHY DOESN'T YOUR PHONE NUMBER WORK! And to everyone else: YOU SHOULD CALL ME MORE! Anyway, I'm eating delicious oatmeal for breakfast, and in a half hour I'm off to hang out with this girl who helped me haggle for Harry potter a couple weeks back. maybe I'll get her to come with me for errands. then I have swing class, then I'll probably go back home to welcome dad and Erika back from their brief travels. Best wishes to the merry readers! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, June 8th, 2007
3:56 pm	true post Well, fuck. I grew up with several different dogs in my life. The first dogs I can remember having were Spirit and Shadow, a mother and son. They were pure white German Shephards, and extremely sweet and protective. Spirit would go running with my dad while he rode his motercycle in the backwoods--and she could keep up with him. Shadow, as a puppy, saved my chubby toddler butt from a big brown dog named Hershel, deflecting him in mid-air as he leapt towards me. We had these dogs for years, mainly keeping them as indoor dogs or in the backyard fenced in, except when on walks. Sometimes they'd escape and come back the next morning, but once they escaped and didn't come back. We found out later that they'd both been shot by one of our neighbors, who said they were harrassing his horses. This was pretty traumatic for a little kid, or really, for anyone. Next dog was a rottweiler puppy who we called Tasha, a rather appropriate star trek name as she was extremely aggressive and quickly dominated everyone in the house except for my dad with her poltergeist head rotations and twenty-thousand teeth. We returned to sender. She later became an award winning sports dog and queen of her household in the new home, but none of us really missed her. She was cute though. So we got Vonna instead. Also a rott, but this dog was the sweetest thing since, er, sugar. She was a cuddler, and completely obsessed with food- knocking her bowl around when she was hungry, going crazy when she heard the phrase "feed the dog". She would submit instantly to any dog she met, but was a good and scary barker when it came to people. Once she saw me spill some food in the water bowl, and tried unsuccesfully to stick her snout in and it it. Sneezes galore. So instead she proceeded to patiently drink, and drink, and drink, until she walked into the kitchen, vomited, and went back for more. Brilliant yet idiotic at the same time. She'd bark when you blew in her mouth and put her paw on your lap while you watched tv. As a companion for Vonna, and as a sports dog for my dad, we got Dax, an independant and geeky standard german shephard. Something about him made other dogs want to attack him, and he always seemed to get very confused when you pet him, like he didn't know what to do. Sometimes he'd think it was foreplay, and so he'd go to finish the job. Needless to say, I spent much more time petting Vonna. He was also a whiner, a barker, and an obsessive deer chaser. He drove us all crazy. But he was very smart, and very energetic, and much more attentive than Vonna, who while affectionate, was often in her own world. So in these regards, he was endearing. At 8 years old, he had the energy of a 2 year old. Vonna, submissive with every other dog, always stood up against Dax. She maintained top-dog status. Sometimes that bark and growl and box on hind legs, very scary, but they never hurt each other. Even when she got very old, she still held out against him. They weren't cuddly with each other, but I think they had mutual doggy affection nevertheless. Vonna died a year or two before I left home for college. She quickly got sick and bloated, and a week or so in, I had a feeling it was over. The next morning she was dead on the front porch. I got to say goodbye the night before though. We were buddies. I felt bad that I left her on the porch in the cold on her last night, but happy that we spent good time together in the end. Because my father was also moving out, and to china, we had to find a new home for Dax. He had been spending a lot of time cooped up in a small run outside, which was unfair to such an energetic dog, so dad made a big effort to find a good family that would exercise him. And so he did, some folks that lived an hour or so up north. At this point I was living down in Olympia, coming up for weekends. I wasn't sure when Dax would move out, so I took care to give him love and a good goodbye everytime. So I said goodbye, but never really goodbye for good. One day I came home and dax was gone to his new home, and that was that. I was ok with it, happy that he'd be happier. I'd lived with him for around 7 or 8 years, and I loved him, but he still was an annoying dog, so I was happy for both of us. Over the next few years, though, I always intended to try and finagle a ride up north with one of my friends to visit him. I heard it could be stressful for dogs to see their old families, but nevertheless I wanted to check on him, see his new diggs, and make sure he remembered me. I felt kind of bed that I'd never really seen him off or helped him adjust. So here in China I asked dad to send me the owner's e-mail address. Dad did more- he e-mailed the guy to hear how Dax was doing. The guy wrote back and said that Dax died last year of bloat...stomach issues that got out of hand and could no longer be effectively treated. So my dog died last year, and I hadn't seen him since 2004. He was as annoying as hell, and brought out more rage in me than any person I've known, but I miss him anyway. He was always so damn energetic that it's really hard to imagine that he's dead. My rabbit that we gave away? Sure. But Dax? He could run 20+ mph alongside a car, in his late middle age! I guess I feel like I'm left hanging. Unresolved. I wanted to see what his new life was- what kind of an old dog he made, but now I've lost that chance. Unless he's on video or something. And I wanted to give him a last pat on the head, make sure that even with all his strange neuroticisms, and wierdness around affection, that he still remembered me fondly. I missed that chance. I guess this is one of those things that can teach you not to delay stuff like this- or to be aware of what is really important to you. I kind of wish that this didn't come to me on a day when I'm already feeling tired and down though. So I have no more dogs left living. Nor cats, nor rabbits, nor chickens, nor hamsters, nor fish, nor horse (well, maybe Dusty is still alive somewhere, depending on whether horses live past 15), nor probably goat. All non-human life that was part of my family is gone now, with the exception of a Christmas Cactus which may actually be at risk, sitting in the unfriendly ex-home of a friend of mine in Washington. Wow. I'm glad I have a chance to chill in china with my dad and sister. Otherwise I couldbe feeling pretty damn isolated right now. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, June 1st, 2007
2:30 pm	Aaron was sitting in his bedroom one day, listening to Jack Johnson, reading poetry, and feeling the unfortunate effects of a low blood sugar, when his father made an interesting comment: "Is it indecision to read poetry instead of going and getting stuff for your sister?" This comment jolted Aaron into consideration of his ideal future course of action. You see, he had only one hour and a half to eat breakfast, shower, and purchase a towel and a decoration for his beloved sister who would arrive from New York that very afternoon. Perhaps sitting in front of the computer was not indeed the best course of action. Another interesting thing about this comment is that it was in response to a comment of mine: "Most of the lousy things I have done have been due to indecision, not lousy decisions." This is true, I believe. I think it's fair to say that anyone I've ever wronged, including myself, has probably been wronged because I didn't thoroughly think something through, and never really acted decisively. I apologize for this. I'm still working on it. Hm, no, I take it back, I have made some poor decisions in the past. My comment was in response to a quote, reading something like this: "Most evils are committed by people who have not yet decided to be good or to be evil." Of course, as my father said, who decides to be evil? Nevertheless, I think the point this quote makes is quite interesting. Getting back to the first comment- it's not indecision, it is procrastination. And now I will cease. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 31st, 2007
12:55 am	Yaar! Ahoy there, ye scurvy swabs! Congratulate me- I now have at least two marketable abilities: Massage, and ESL teaching. Huzzah! I went to a business today and made twenty bucks an hour for two hours, helping two of the employees there (a translator who already spoke fairly good English, and trainer who was more of a beginner) hone their skillz, and then I hopped on the subway to the english school, where I spent another hour and a half teaching a class of four. At the school I only make 10/hour, but anywhere else I seem to be pulling 20. This is pretty sweet. Sadly, I'm doubtful of my chances to make this much working in the states. Perhaps, now that I have experience my odds are better, but the fact is that there are an awful lot of English speakers in the U.S., so the demand is going to be significantly less. I may simply have to hone new skills. Lately I am trying to decide if going back to a place where everyone on the street is speaking English instead of Chinese will be a good or a bad thing. When I see foreigners here (Americans, Europeans, etc...white folk) I tend to get a colder vibe from them then chinese people. Chinese will meet your eyes, but foreigners tend to stoically look straight ahead, as if pretending they don't notice you. Maybe they want to be like a native and not be drawn to familiar faces, or maybe they are more wrapped up in their own affairs, or maybe they simply didn't notice me. I don't know. The cultural differences are there though. Also, while it is isolating, there is also a sense of peace to not being able to understand those around you. It's easier to respect people if you can here them speaking about mundane things, or fighting over nothing. All I see are happy people, sad people, sick people and healthy people, and they speak rapidly to one another in an increasingly familiar but steadily incomprehensible language. As a foreigner, I get lots of special attention, and extra smiles. I think I will miss this. In the states I have to get by on charm if I want smiles- here, I just say "hello" in Chinese with a friendly face, and everyone thinks I'm fascinating and wonderful. This is a slight exaggeration, but the positive energy builds up over time, and makes me feel like it's not an exaggeration. I watched some fellows playing Chinese Chess today. I watched them yesterday as well. One of them invited me to play (in Chinese...I could only guess what he meant) so I did. A big crowd of people instantly gathered, laughing in amazement that I would play and that I knew how to set up the pieces etc. They brought me a chair and I proceeded to beat the fellow. Everyone was laughing and shouting everytime I made a good move, and my opponent was vocal in his frustration. He'd be all "Aaaaa!" everytime I took his piece. Extremely satisfying. Of course, promptly after winning, another guy sat down and creamed me badly, twice in a row. Then I beat the first guy again, then another two guys beat me, then the first guy beat me twice in a row. It was quite entertaining and humbling. But I think I earned their respect. I made lots of entertaining sound effects as well. They especially seemed to enjoy my sheep noises and they clicking noise I made as I imagined where the pieces would go. The mood here, so different. You know, in the states, play chess with a guy on the street and he'll be silent. Everyone around him will be silent. No gloating, no screaming at a loss. And if you make a major error, odds are that they will take advantage of it. Here, everyone is talking and shouting advice (which I sadly could rarely benefit from), praising good moves, arguing bad moves, and if one person makes a really dumb-ass (or at least one leading clearly to checkmate) the other will quickly point it out so that it can be taken back and the game can continue till there is a strategic victory rather than one due to an oversight. It felt good. Although I'm excited to be able to talk to strangers again, I think I will miss the warmth. I might even miss the crowds. That's a really freakin' weird thought. Olympia seems so empty in my head when I compare it to...anywhere here. Nights in Shanghai are unique as well. The streets are very empty, but about every block there's a 24 hour mini-mart open, and theres always some folks wondering around at any hour. I feel much safer on the street here, day or night, than I do in Seattle. I've only once encountered anyone who seemed remotely dangerous, whereas in Seattle I've been eyed by plenty of folks who give me the creeps and seem not entirely on the up and up. Tomorrow I will teach a lady at this business who is basically a rank beginner. I could do this, starting with the basics, only her assistant says thats not what she needs. Rather, she needs catch-phrases to use in Canada and the States on an upcoming trip. How to ask for directions, introduce herself, talk to customs, etc. I fear this will be difficult to teach a beginner. I will be forced, perhaps, to make use of the translator (who I taught today) and be maybe less effective of a teacher than I'd like. Well, I'll do what I can. While raking in the RMB dough. Nice hearing from y'all. Ciao ciao. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 28th, 2007
5:22 pm	Hello friends! This is sort of a check in to make sure you all know I'm still alive. I don't really read livejournal anymore, nor, obviously have I been posting. I guess I wonder if I still get the readership of non lj-ers, like Ursa, Kaitlin, Karen. Do I? I am in China now, teaching english daily, spending many moments resting and musing, and occasionally venturing out to shop or go swing dancing. It's a pretty different place, China. Shanghai. I live in a cheap apartment complex with my father, right by a smelly but cool outdoor market. less then five or ten minutes away by foot are skyscrapers and 8 lane roads. Everything is close together, except if you consider the ridiculously huge size of this 10+ million person city. Who is still around in this livejournal bunch of folks? Any of my old regulars? (10 Comments |Comment on this)