One More Time.

This semester has been probably the most academically challenging one I've had since entering college nearly four years ago. For me, stress levels are directly proportionate to the amount of numbing daydreams that take me minutes to awake from. Hence, accept my apologies if you've been affected, at times, from my dreamlike neglect as I attempt to read all the books, finish all the papers, and whatever else my major creates to throw at me.

When my whole mental capacity is not overwhelmed with deadlines, I find that it is often checking its luggage, asking the stewardess if there are any first class seats available, and trying to sneak some dairy products through customs. It is flying back to Xia Da, to Xiamen, to Fujian, to China, and its good to permit the flood of memories and feelings of last year to permeate my being for those few surreal minutes.

My semester is lived in reference of the events of a year ago: "This time last year we took an impromptu trip to Chongwu... This time last year we rented bikes and got lost and persuaded taxi drivers to take us and our bikes back to the rental before it closed... This time last year I couldn't find a webcam that worked in the internet cafe, for all were taken by the buddhist monks of Nanputuo," and so on, and on, and on.

As Thanksgiving is quickly approaching, my thoughts are called back to our hodgepodge, makeshift celebration. Although with family and relatives this year in a more traditional setting, 12 months ago this November 27th will be the standard to which all Turkey Days will be measured against.

China,
You still have part of me. Please don't let go. I need you to hold on.

Reacclimating.

To whomever it may concern,

I arrived home in Arkansas on December 22nd in the late evening. The sight of my family and girlfriend waiting for me at the airport gave me a feeling that I will not soon forget. As I stepped outside, my baggage draped over me, donning my custom fitted suit, the bitter and cold mid-American wind hit my face, freezing the sweat that had almost constantly been perspiring from me for the last three and a half months. And i stood there, and it was good to be home. With people I love. With menus I can fully read. With things I recognize and understand.... and I was deeply saddened. My adventure was finished. My journey had ended. And i wanted to jump back on that plane and flee to Xiamen, to go back to where life was exciting and unpredictable. Where bikes and mopeds ruled the roads instead of F-150s and suburbans. To go back to where I changed into the man that I am further becoming. To a place where God was real and evident. To where friends would hug and welcome me "home."

And I'm still struggling with this. It is hard to be here. It is strange to have to pay attention to other people's conversations that are sitting across the room. My bowels are still confused. I want to eat jaozi and I can't. No place is close enough to walk to. And part of me really hates it here.

And God is still faithful, and He is still compassionate. And He will lead me along the path of reacclimation in this place. And I trust that these frustrations that are quite extreme will gradually subside into normalcy again over time. But other things will continue to live on with me for the remainder of my days. The friends I now have will always be. The staunch smells and serenely beautiful scenes, the earthy conversations and realizations of truth, the excitements of life and its frustrations: these have eternally impacted who I am and will proceed in doing so for the rest of my life. And for this, I am so grateful. China Fall 2008, thanks.

-丁哥