April 28th:aptached Thursday and memory clerks
[ posted by mcdeviltoast ]
Day 224
I went to my first class, the Ultraman class and there was a Chinese teacher already there doing a class. I shrugged, the students said "No, this afternoon." Ok. I went to ask Rose about it, but she wasn't in. I went back and did laundry and had lunch.
Jeni popped 'round for tea and we chatted about Chinese kids, various this-that. I repeated myself on the concept of memory, so it must be important enough to document. I think the reason time moves so slow when we're kids (or seems to) is because we haven't formed any memories really. We live the moment viscerally with no comparison to past times. The older we get, the more our minds are filled with memories and we do less living, more filing. We become a file clerk for our own nostalgia, constantly pulling out, putting away, reorganizing, comparing, and we lose out on the moment, so it seems that it went by very fast. How do we shut off our cranial dewey decimal system and get back to living viscerally?
So I went to teach the afternoon triple threat, and class 1 told me I needed to go teach class 4 (Ultraman). The teacher outside class 4 told me I needed to g back to class 1. I told him I just came from there, the students from class 1 pulled me in, convinced the teacher what's what. I ran the class just chatting with the kids about May festival, didn't even get to the game.
Next class (class 1) was the same. It was too hot and the kids were lethargic, so we cranked up the AC, shut the windows and doors, chit-chatted. We talked about how the superstars lip-synced and that was "boo hao." I quizzed them about how old Mr. Willis was, when Mr. Willis's birthday was, where Mr. Willis was from and what the name of Mr. Willis's wife is. (That's the big inside joke, of constantly asking me if I have a wifeand I tease them back; any girl on a folder or on TV I declare "My wife!" In fact, during the tech rehearsalof the big show, class 7 pointed at one of the red-clad string syncers on stage and shouted in unison: "Mr. Willis! Your wife!") Some of the answers were like "S.H.E." and one clever student wrote "Mrs. Willis." The only correct answer in a linguistic way.
The next class told me I missed it. What? But a teacher had just taught it. It was not my turn to teach it, it was just being skipped, so I proceeded to class 6, shaking my head and telling the class I was very confused. We played the game and it was a hit.
After classes, the heat was sweltering. Where did Spring go? As much as I wanted to get out in the sunshine, I'm concerned about sunburn. I don't want to go out until the sun is not directly overhead. Sunscreen is as hard to find as mustard here. Erin's toilet had issues and a plumber was working a snake into it while the desk lady and Chi looked on. It must be difficult being Nigel's wife; it was 4:30 in the afternoon and she was standing in a dressing gown and slippers like it was morning. All she needs is rollers in her hair and a cigarette jabbed in the corner of her mouth.
The shower room across the hall was on, and steam had begun to pour out, adding to the heat and wasting water. I asked Chi if she was going to take a shower, and she said no, but the desk lady would. The desk lady was just standing watching the plumbing proceedings. She further said that the desk lady could not shower until the plumber was done. Ok, but the water was still running, steam billowing out like a bad special effect. It wasn't until I mentioned that water was being wasted that desk lady finally went in and shut it off. Had I not been there, would it have run all day? This didn't even really come under forethought. This was a brand new breed of ignorance.
Erin and I walked to the hotel for dinner and Nigel rode by and bothered us during the homestretch, the excrutiating fop.
A sample of his banality: "I should warn you it is time for the mosquitos. I opened my door last night and there were some dancing on my bed. Literally dancing. You should buy some spray. We have some spray and it works, but you have to leave the room..."
I want to nail a railroad spike into his brain stem every time I encounter him. After dinner, I rode up to the middle school, hung out with the crew, had some Tsingtao Light. Tomorrow Friday already. Another week put to bed. May festival almost upon us.
I went to my first class, the Ultraman class and there was a Chinese teacher already there doing a class. I shrugged, the students said "No, this afternoon." Ok. I went to ask Rose about it, but she wasn't in. I went back and did laundry and had lunch.
Jeni popped 'round for tea and we chatted about Chinese kids, various this-that. I repeated myself on the concept of memory, so it must be important enough to document. I think the reason time moves so slow when we're kids (or seems to) is because we haven't formed any memories really. We live the moment viscerally with no comparison to past times. The older we get, the more our minds are filled with memories and we do less living, more filing. We become a file clerk for our own nostalgia, constantly pulling out, putting away, reorganizing, comparing, and we lose out on the moment, so it seems that it went by very fast. How do we shut off our cranial dewey decimal system and get back to living viscerally?
So I went to teach the afternoon triple threat, and class 1 told me I needed to go teach class 4 (Ultraman). The teacher outside class 4 told me I needed to g back to class 1. I told him I just came from there, the students from class 1 pulled me in, convinced the teacher what's what. I ran the class just chatting with the kids about May festival, didn't even get to the game.
Next class (class 1) was the same. It was too hot and the kids were lethargic, so we cranked up the AC, shut the windows and doors, chit-chatted. We talked about how the superstars lip-synced and that was "boo hao." I quizzed them about how old Mr. Willis was, when Mr. Willis's birthday was, where Mr. Willis was from and what the name of Mr. Willis's wife is. (That's the big inside joke, of constantly asking me if I have a wifeand I tease them back; any girl on a folder or on TV I declare "My wife!" In fact, during the tech rehearsalof the big show, class 7 pointed at one of the red-clad string syncers on stage and shouted in unison: "Mr. Willis! Your wife!") Some of the answers were like "S.H.E." and one clever student wrote "Mrs. Willis." The only correct answer in a linguistic way.
The next class told me I missed it. What? But a teacher had just taught it. It was not my turn to teach it, it was just being skipped, so I proceeded to class 6, shaking my head and telling the class I was very confused. We played the game and it was a hit.
After classes, the heat was sweltering. Where did Spring go? As much as I wanted to get out in the sunshine, I'm concerned about sunburn. I don't want to go out until the sun is not directly overhead. Sunscreen is as hard to find as mustard here. Erin's toilet had issues and a plumber was working a snake into it while the desk lady and Chi looked on. It must be difficult being Nigel's wife; it was 4:30 in the afternoon and she was standing in a dressing gown and slippers like it was morning. All she needs is rollers in her hair and a cigarette jabbed in the corner of her mouth.
The shower room across the hall was on, and steam had begun to pour out, adding to the heat and wasting water. I asked Chi if she was going to take a shower, and she said no, but the desk lady would. The desk lady was just standing watching the plumbing proceedings. She further said that the desk lady could not shower until the plumber was done. Ok, but the water was still running, steam billowing out like a bad special effect. It wasn't until I mentioned that water was being wasted that desk lady finally went in and shut it off. Had I not been there, would it have run all day? This didn't even really come under forethought. This was a brand new breed of ignorance.
Erin and I walked to the hotel for dinner and Nigel rode by and bothered us during the homestretch, the excrutiating fop.
A sample of his banality: "I should warn you it is time for the mosquitos. I opened my door last night and there were some dancing on my bed. Literally dancing. You should buy some spray. We have some spray and it works, but you have to leave the room..."
I want to nail a railroad spike into his brain stem every time I encounter him. After dinner, I rode up to the middle school, hung out with the crew, had some Tsingtao Light. Tomorrow Friday already. Another week put to bed. May festival almost upon us.
---
[ posted by mcdeviltoast @ 4/28/2005 09:08:00 PM ]
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