Happy Birthday

Although I feel a great importance to search out any and every opportunity to celebrate in this life, and although a birthday is one of those occasions, for certain reasons my last two B-days have been . . . well . . . unique.
Last year, Xiaoyu and KT had to dance practice for the Christmas With the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert. Mom had to go to a Young Women's activity . . . where she broke her ankle and basically stole the spotlight from your's truly! (yeah, she's sneaky like that). I think Dad was on the computer doing some work. And I was locked up alone in the attic where I sang "I have a castle on a cloud" basically for the majority of the night.
This year was a lot better though. This year I got to do what I had always dreamed of doing for my birthday ever since I was a little kid: complete a 2,500 character (Chinese that is) long essay on the complications found within China's social strata that were brought about by the last 20 years of economic reform. Again, like last year, Xiaoyu wasn't able to be with me, although she made sure to call me numerous times and make sure I was having a good time . . . writing my essay. Actually she gave me the best possible gift I could have asked for that night, when she helped me correct my paper. She told me once that it was my birthday so I had to go buy a little cake and a candle. But the thought of me sitting in some little bread shop or in my room singing happy birthday to myself and blowing out a candle sounded basically like the most depressing thing I could think of. So I didn't.
Actually, although it sounds like I am really down about that fact that my last two birthdays have been very "special," I really have nothing to complain about. When I think about it, I have been given way more than I ever could have wanted. I could tell that Xiaoyu felt bad she couldn't be there with me, and was a little worried about me being sad during my birthday. However, even though of course I would love to be surrounded by family and friends during such an occasion, how could I be sad when I know that any separation during this life I experience with my family is only temporary. When all is said and done, the time will come that Xiaoyu and I will never have to be apart, neither will we have to be apart from the ones we love. No gift could be greater than that (no Fernando, not even that blender you've always wanted). So how could a birthday alone affect my attitude?! The thought of it is kind of ridiculous if you think about it.
That being said, I'm predicting that my B-day next year is going to be PANDA-MONIUM! Until then . . . happy birthday to me.

Its that time of year.

Halloween in China? You best be believin' it! I have proof!

Had to see it to believe it eh? Well here it is. The Halloween section of a Target-like store here in Nanjing. And although it isn't big, it does still do a good job of representing arguably the funnest holiday around. I'm sure there are many who have no idea what this little section is even about, and those who do celebrate Halloween do not actually trick-or-treat. Too bad.


This is a scary looking insect. Scary insect . . . Halloween . . . yes they do go together.



This is a better shot of its totally sweetnesses legs!


And, of course, a guy selling hand spun cotton candy. Candy . . . Halloween . . . yes. And also I thought that you would all like to see how read-deal-holyfield cotton candy is made. Watch and learn . . . and then watch again . . . and then realize that no I didn't take a video of him actually making cotton candy because it cost 3 RMB which I didn't have. But I did have 2 RMB which I gave him for being nice and letting me take the video.
So while Halloween might not be what it is back in the States, it still has its own Chinese style charm . . . if you know where to look for it.

The Beautiful Benefits of Being a Brother.

I just finished reading my sister Sharon's latest blog about how her son Sammy is all about whacking his older sister with various objects upon the head. It reminded me of some of the good ol' times when we were young, and when I could still make my sisters cry without feeling too guilty.
I actually don't think that I even inflicted a large amount of physical pain on either of my sisters. This is probably due to a couple reasons; physical abuse left marks and thus hard evidence, my little sister KT--although small--was quite dangerous when it came to hand-to-hand combat (i.e. the "sink my long fingernails into the flesh of your arm while gritting my teeth and bombarding you with an almost unholy evil stare" technique), and probably the biggest reason was that it was just too base a platform from which one can perform truly devious life-scaring deeds.
I think two examples should suffice. During our younger years (teen), my older sister and I did not spend the majority of our leisure time playing together. However, that did not mean that we didn't love each other, nor did it mean that she was exempt from my boredom-bred offensives. One of my assailments into her constant and otherwise sheltered boarders began when she received a heavenly down comforter for either Christmas or her birthday. She always got that kind of stuff as presents, and although her gifts were always utterly boring by nature, I was often able to find a much more exciting use . . . if the situation called for it.
During this time, for some reason I was really into the ability to move throughout the house and within the close vicinity of people without being detected. Naturally, at the completion of sneaking up behind someone while they are on the computer or underneath the kitchen table while they are eating or reading the news paper, the next natural step is to . . . well . . . for the lack of a better term . . . scare the crap out of them. For those of you who have tried this, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Eventually, my skills were becoming so finely tuned, that an even greater challenge was needed to test my real ninja-like potential. Sharon's down comforter provided the challenge.
At first, it seemed like each night, before going to sleep in her cloud of a bed, she would fluff up her comforter before gently laying back on it. But slowly she ended that ritual, and after reading her scriptures and saying her prayers, would just hit the hay and call it a night. After a couple nights of becoming familiar with the layout, and taking mental notes of her nightly routine, I made my move. While Sharon was in the bathroom getting ready for bed (approx. 15-20 min.) I snuck into her room, being careful not to disturb anything or leave any visible traces of my presence, and slid myself between the top of the mattress and the down comforter. I then shook my body in rapid succession, thus bringing the surface of the comforter to a more even plain, and made sure to leave a slight crease from which (as my head was resting sideways facing toward the nightstand) I could see out into the room. Then all I had to do was wait.
While waiting, it did occur to me that I could get in trouble for what I was about to do, and that it probably wouldn't make Sharon too incredibly happy, but any drawback was totally overshadowed by my curiosity. Could I actually pull it off? If I did, how would she react? Has anyone in the history of man ever been so skilled in their sneaking/scaring abilities?
When she came back into the room, it was almost too much not just to jump out and expose my hiding spot. However, I refrained, and even managed to keep completely still and silent as she read her scriptures and prayed right next to the side of the bed where I was laying. Now this comforter was not to be slept under, but to be slept upon. So it had originally been my plan to wait until she actually laid down before I scared the living daylights out of her. But as she got up from praying and began to pull back her blanket to climb into bed, I made the quick decision that doing so might actually scar her for life . . . and I refrained. Right before she started the movement to get into bed, I burst out in an awesome array of yelling, flailing my arms and legs, and (of course) laughing my head off. I know that most of you think that I am a horrible person by now, which I can totally understand, but even now as I am writing this here some 15 years later, I still can't help but laugh out loud like a gitty school boy when I think back on it. It was, in my book, the perfect scare. The only problem, was that it was too perfect. It actually made Sharon cry (should have thought of that one), and dad told me that if I ever scared anyone again that he would scare me. Truthfully, although I would like to say that it was Sharon's tears that touched my heart and ended my frightening antics, but that wouldn't be completely true. Dad had never scared anyone on purpose that I had known of, and the fact that I couldn't even draw up a mental image of what that would be like disturbed my stealthiness into a standstill. That isn't to say that I never scared anyone again after that, but I was definitely more careful about who, when, and how I did.

Again, although scaring my sisters is probably not the only trick up my sleeve, it is probably the best. For some reason, my once eccentric little sister Katie was always scared of the basement in our Orem house. She hated going down there, especially by herself, and even more so if the lights were off (you had to enter the dark before you got to the light switch and turned on the lights, and when it the lights were off down there, it was DARK.) On a certain occasion, mom and dad had to leave for some reason, leaving Sharon in charge of Katie and I. Whereas Sharon and I weren't always spending the majority of our time together, Katie and I were almost always either playing together or bugging each other. And while Katie is more reserved and laid back today, you wouldn't have believed it possible with the fiery attitude that once embodied so much about her (although I love the grown up KT, sometimes I do hope that the younger "I will freak out, throw a fit, and get you" KT would resurface . . . if not just every once in a while). She was the cutest little sister an older brother ever had, and our relationship was one of love and loving to bug and be bugged. I obviously did the bugging, but I think KT will agree that for some odd reason she often "asked" to be bugged.


At the very least, she knew me well enough that she knew well in advance what I was going to do, and more often than not, there was no way for her to avoid it.
This instance (which occurred some time around, but before the above "down comforter" incident) was no different. Sharon was in charge, and she asked KT to go downstairs and grab something. KT immediately opposed, but for some reason it needed to be KT to get it. Knowing her brother, she complained to Sharon that I was going to somehow scare her when she went down there. Sharon told her that I wouldn't (Sharon obviously had more faith in me that she should have), but KT was sure I would. (I should stop here to say that I can't remember if at that time I had really thought to scare KT or not. In all actuality, it could have been KT's bringing up the topic of me scaring her that actually caused me to do so!) Sharon insisted that I wouldn't but still made me promise, out loud, that I would not scare KT when she went downstairs, and then she even offered to go down there with her. I don't think that satisfied KT, but she had no more excuses to go.
In our Orem house, there was an intercom system with speakers in almost every room of the house (which is such a ridiculous and lazy thing now that I think about it. But anyway). It was an old system that had been put in way before we had been there, and each time you pressed down on the "talk" button it would give a quick and loud "pkhhh" sound. I can't tell you how many times mom or dad or whomever inadvertently scared the pants of whoever was in the basement. You'd be watching a scary movie, and then all of the sudden "pkhhh! Patrick can you come up stairs for a second?" Oh man. Or you are just thinking or doing something quietly when "pkhhh! Katie Winnerholm your mom just called and says that you need to go home."
After they had both descended into the dark abyss of our basement, my promise and all my normal thought processes stopped, and all I could think of was "Intercom! KT! Screaming!" Without too much hesitance I walked over to the intercom, pressed, and the next 10 seconds went a little something like this, (in my best deep devilish voice) "pkhhh! KATIEEEEEE!!!! AAHAAHHHKATIE! BLAHHHAH (and so on)!" then the highest/loudest little girl scream, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" and finally Sharon's voice, "PAAATRIIIICK!!!!" That one, I think, really did scar KT for life. However afraid she was of the Orem house basement before, it has magnified at least 2 bizzagillion fold.


Oh the good ol' days. Sadly enough for some reason its not the same when I scared Xiaoyu (I say scared because up til now its only happened once, for good reasons), and I am afraid to say that for the most part I am past my prime. My only hope now is in my nephew Sammy and my own future offspring, who I'm sure will not let this old timer down.

Tweed

I just took about the last 20 minutes writing about how much I like this graduate program I'm in right now and how much I'm learning . . . and then I realized that it would probably be the most boring thing in the world to read . . . unless, of course, you are a super-geek like myself (Sharon?).
However, I thought I would post something that one of my geekafied (Princeton, Harvard, the whole works), but very good British professors put up on his Facebook page. I thought my dad might like it. (When you read it, it might also help to imagine it being read in the British/Haaaarvard accent.)
From the Introductory Address to the 61st Annual Tweed Conference, Cheltenham, England (June 2004):
"Not only by donning a tweed item does one wrap oneself in a delightfully variegated weave (whose very structure seems to embody an inclusive, multicultural agenda), but one also enters a long and noble genealogy of the fine material and its judicious wearers. Even a simple and commonplace tweed can become a nexus upon which quotations of human excellence collide and vibrate. Wearing Nike may at best connect you to the likes of Michael Jordan, or Adidas to David Beckham, but usually it simply renders you visually complicit with big business. Choice of Denim or Gap simply homogenises you, while suits and ties ultimately bind you, slave-like, to your profession. Tweed is different. It is the antithesis of homogeneity and the beacon of heterogeneity - the champion of rugged individuality and the woven-material messiah. It is astoundingly versatile; equally comfortable in rural retreats, hip urban parties, university campuses and increasingly, many offices too. Moreover, if one binds oneself to any demographic by its wearing, it is to a league of the greatest achievers of human history: to Jacques Derrida, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Albert Einstein, Sherlock Holmes, Charles Darwin, James Joyce, and many, many other wearers. Why, Plato was even reported to own a tweed toga!
For all owners of this illustrious fabric, we congratulate you. For all those without it, take the plunge and let yourself BE FREED BY YOUR TWEED."

Question of the day.

How did this happen? Is it broken or not? If you can answer these two questions correctly, then you win the prize. If you at least try, you win a prize. If you leave any sort of comment . . . you win a prize. If you don't even read our blog anymore . . . you win a knuckle sandwich and a hurts donut.

"Xiaoyu gloating," and "Good ol' China."

Quick update on our lives: Right now we are living in Nanjing (directly translated as "Southern Capital") where I am participating in the Masters of Arts in International Studies program at the Johns Hopkins University SAIS--Nanjing University Center. We'll be here for two years, which is the duration of the program. Nanjing is a nice place, about 2 hours west of Shanghai along the Yangtze River, and about a 16 hour train ride away from Xiaoyu's hometown of Xi'an.

Well I thought we could take a break in between introducing Xiaoyu's family, and watch some movies!
These first two may be boring if you don't know Xiaoyu, but may be pretty funny if you do. And . . . yes . . . Xiaoyu did take these clip for the sole purpose of gloating about China's domination of the gold medal count during the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
(the song she sings in this first one is the Chiense national anthem)



This next one is basically the same idea, except she does some cool sound effects which is always good.



This next one is just one of the many, many reasons I love China.



Finally . . . its always nice to see close families. And what could be "closer" than a daughter giving her elderly mother a piggy back?

Take some time to meet the family.

Xiaoyu’s family is made up of some of the most interesting, kind, funny, and considerate people I have ever met. Lets take the next couple blogs to introduce ourselves to some of them shall we?

Xiaoyu’s mother, Xiao Ju Li:
In her 50’s, she is constantly being pestered by scientist from around the world all hoping for a chance to study how much energy can be contained in such a small being. I mean, literally this lady wears out anyone who dares to try to keep up with her. As a matter of fact, it can be quite taxing just to be around her sometimes when she is “going” . . . which is basically all the time.
I’m not sure either where she gets her energy from, but I have my theories. Maybe its because she eats well, and exercises. Although her financial situation hasn’t ever allowed her to eat like a queen, she tells me that she has always “eaten well” (meaning that she will only eat clean, healthy food). In fact, supposedly now if she eats something below her standards, she claims to have stomach problems. I can remember when she came home from work one day bragging about how all her workmates thought her stomach was so spoiled because she had to eat better than they did.

Her energy could also be the result of never really having the chance to slow down. I haven’t been able to get her to put it down in writing yet, but parts of her history have been given to me—when the situation calls for it—and I have tried my best to piece things together. Here is the little I have gathered. She is the oldest daughter in a family of six children. She has one older brother, but for those familiar with Chinese familial relationships you know how the mother spoils the oldest boy (as it “should” be his responsibility to take care of the parents as they grow old). This left the family’s first female, my mother-in-law with a daunting amount of responsibilities. My mother-in-law obviously took the responsibilities with style.

From what I can gather she was also a good student. She attended medical school, during which (or after? This is where things get a little blurry) she was sent off to the countryside to receive her “rural education,” as stipulated by Chairman Mao at that time for all “city dwellers.” She was also to teach the farmers about, and help enforce the newly formed One Child policy. I won’t get too much into this time of her life now, but this very well could have been the point at which she gained her familiarity with a superhuman work ethic. I enjoy Xiaoyu’s mom relaying stories from this era to me the best, as they usually involve angry individuals or families chasing after her with kitchen knifes (people are often quite angry when told that they are only allowed one child per family), or surgical operations in extreme situations for unbelievably long periods of time (30+ hours), with only a hard boiled egg shoved into your mouth every so often to work off of. For someone who lived like this for years on end, yeah, maybe things that make us all tired like a 9 to 5 work day, mopping the floor, or making some zha jiang noodles don’t really faze her. If that’s not enough, add in the fact that for a large part of her marriage (and Xiaoyu’s life) she was the breadwinner for the family, and that after her husband divorced her she had to start from zero, and provide for herself while also providing for her child’s education; a feat that not every husband and wife’s salary together can accomplish in modern China.

Finally, the only other possibility I can think of, is that she has some sort of mutant ability to sleep so soundly that when she wakes up she is completely recharged. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but I think this woman can literally sleep through anything. What is amazing, is not only how soundly she sleeps, but the speed at which she cruises off to dream land. Xiaoyu and I will be watching some movie on the TV located directly outside her room, and only about 4 feet away from her head, and she will say, “I’m going to sleep.” So I turn the TV down, and Xiaoyu says, “Don’t worry, it won’t wake her up.” Wake her up? How could it wake her up if she isn’t even aslee . . . and then I hear the heavy breathing of someone in deep (and I mean like Deep Space 9 deep) sleep. At 2 o’clock in the middle of the night, twenty tons of coal is slammed into the coal yard right outside our window by a large and loud frontloader. Xiaoyu and I can’t sleep a wink, while Xiaoyu’s mom claims to have no idea the next day of what sounded like us to be a backyard Armageddon. Amazing? Yes. Result of mutant powers? Most likely.

Of course there are many other amazing and awe-inspiring aspects of the wonderful person who we both call “ma,” and we could go on and on about how cool she is, however, we don’t want to be accused of bragging. I guess it’s like Confucius said though, “It’s not bragging if you can back it up!” Or . . . was that Muhammad Ali?