I’m back to doing the same thing I said I wouldn’t. I don’t know how else to express it all: the frustration, the upset, the stress of the entire situation: my parents are talking about getting a divorce after 28 years of marriage. A few months ago I read an article in Psychology Today about how adults deal with their parents getting divorced. I have to say, the things I read about then do have a pressing relevance right now.

It’s not decided; tonight is the night we have the ‘family conference’ to see how long this will remain a family. My dissertation was given a second extension, and will be due November 26th. So I’m super stressed, and still need to plan next week’s lessons. I also need to think hard about the units ahead, and finish grading all this stuff I have from my writing classes. Life is good right now.

No, not really.

I decided to help coach the U16 girls basketball team at work though – that’s something I’m looking forward to, even if I have no experience with basketball. All I have to say is, good luck!

Erica Jong once wrote, “Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.”

As I’m sitting at my desk staring at my dissertation, which is nearly but not quite finished, I am depressed by this thought especially given everything that’s been happening recently. Why is life so contradictory?

I’m in Beijing for the weekend for a professional development workshop. Although I’m not a counsellor of any sort, I’ve learned a lot about how to counsel students in a specific, solution-as opposed to a problem-based way. Counselling is fascinating: establishing trust with students (the “clients”) and guiding them towards finding answers for themselves is enormous.

As I’m writing this, I just overheard a snippet of a conversation between the counsellor in front of me. The snippet was, “That’s what she said!”

Hahahahha! I mean, I by no means endorse jokes or funny, well-timed interjections of that phrase, but that was high-larious!

Aaaanyway.

The workshop has been really interesting, is all I’m trying to say. I’m just surprised by the observation that so many teachers in international schools around Asia move around so much. Sure, there are people who stay in the same school for years and years, but they are more of an exception rather than the rule. How I envy the freedom of moving around like that. I wonder whether I would ever be at that place myself. Maybe in the future.

But the question is, do I want to continue in the field I’ve chosen?

We’re driving through the suburbs now. The houses are incredible – it’s like this is not China at all. Although it’s hardly surprising.

Later:
The workshop was good all around and I learned a lot about focusing on the solution rather than the problem. On the one hand it makes complete sense, but on the other, it’s hard to establish that mentality as so much of it is ultimately relational when it’s a student and teacher talking.

I was able to get it ino practice a little last week though, and will be sharing about this with the other teachers during a faculty meeting at some point. Ahh, it could be so good to have all teachers equipped with skills for counselling.

It’s my first formal observation tomorrow since first joining this school going on 2 years ago. It’s been a learning curve and a half as I’ve got used to a totally different style of teaching than I was used to (for 3 whole years), and learned more about the value of presence and authenticity over action (at times). That being said, I’m nervous and excited about tomorrow’s lesson all at once as it’s going to be critiqued (what on earth is Bloom’s taxonomy, anyway?;)) and it’s my Advanced Composition during the last block of the day, which could go somewhat wrong… but then again, the topic is one that is interesting to me: family stories.

The premise is that we all recall a relative whose actions have somehow been significant to us. We all recall how the person did the thing they’re famous for (it’s the one thing that every one returns to during gatherings like Chinese New Year or Christmas, and which causes embarassment for the active party, and general merriment and high hilarity for the spectators), what happened, who was there, and just why we recall it even now.

So, as an example, I’ll be talking about my brother and what our childhood was like. In particular, and episode from when he was in primary school, and my mum had just had about 8 inches of her hair cut off. His first words to her, after having hidden from, were, “Mummy, you so ugly!”

Ahhh, the memories. I’m looking back on this particular story with no small amount of nostalgia, given what our relationship has been like over the past 3 years now…

On another note, I’m heading to Beijing for a weekend workshop on ‘brief counselling’. I have no idea what to expect, although I am looking forward to it quite a bit.

He said today that he’s more of a burden to everyone, and I told him that he was wrong but I can’t help but think that he’s giving up. I can’t think what I will do when that happens: I will not.

There are so many things worrying me right now, but I cannot think of this; I cannot prepare myself for the inevitable. I cannot.

I was on my way to work when 2^nd gear broke down for me. I drove the whole way in 3^rd and may have killed my car as a result. It’s at the garage, recuperating… I suck.

To completely change the subject, I can’t wait until this dissertation is over and done with. What I could do is really work on it, instead of procrastinating and blogging about how much I want it to be over. Instead, I spent 4 hours this evening with a friend, playing with her son and generally just catching up. 4 HOURS. It was good though; I’m getting close to forgetting what it’s like to have friends that aren’t a decade younger than me.

I have to admit though that I’m starting to feel a little guilty about not blogging on a somewhat-regular basis. Of all the semi-resolutions I made at the beginning of the year, this is the only one that I’m even moderately working on. What is the deal about resolutions that they’re so easily abandoned? What is the point of them?

Obviously these questions are more rhetorical than anything; I just can’t understand myself sometimes.

And then there’s the irrational mood-swings I’ve been having lately. If I were older, I’d just use menopause as an excuse. But of course I don’t even have that. Jeeez.

For a while, my baby clock has been ticking.

Actually, I reckon it all started when a colleague who had been assigned to be my mentor became pregnant with her first child after literally years of trying. Around that time, I started to notice people’s babies, and started to secretly coo over chubby cheeks, pudgy thighs, and those somewhat ridiculous things people call “onesies.”

The worst thing is just how… cute they are. I can visualise the warmth of the little body that would go into the onesie, all snug and comfy, and then I just about melt inside. I do what every woman does upon seeing a tiny baby: I coo.

Yes, that’s right. I coo. I go, “Awwwwwww…?” – with the rising intonation that implies, how precious!

And I don’t even know why.

I’m a little scared.

Say “No” to peace
if what they mean by peace
is the quiet misery of hunger,
the frozen stillness of fear,
the silence of broken spirits,
the unborn hopes of the oppressed.

Tell them that peace
is the shouting of children at play,
the babble of tongues set free,
the thunder of dancing feet,
and a father’s voice singing.

Say “No” to peace,
if what they mean by peace
is a rampart of gleaming missiles,
the arming of distant wars,
money at ease in its castle,
and grateful poor at the gate.

Tell them that peace
is the hauling down of flags,
the forging of guns into ploughs,
the giving of fields to the landless,
and hunger a fading dream.

- Brian Wren

This is breaking my heart: “How He Loves” by David Crowder Band

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realise just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us oh,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all

He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.
Yeah, He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.

We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.
So Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about the way…

He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.
Yeah, He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.

Bertrand Russell once said,  ”To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.” As I grow older, I find the truth of that statement more and more obvious. But first, I believe, we need to know what our fear is. To some, just knowing what it is is already the first step to conquering it.

On a side note, and to continue this current moment of procrastination as I’m sitting at my desk having started to nut out an introduction I’m actually happy with: If you blog on WordPress, you know that there’s a bit to the side that lets you include tags to your blog posts. I have always used tags, although I don’t know why, but the size of the tag increases according to how many times it’s been mentioned on your blog.

I’m not liking the fact that “work” is the biggest one, and God is the second.