mf.rox

It’s interesting how you just really like some people, you just don’t like other people, and other people give you a weird feeling right from the get-go.

I have that situation with some of my students this year. There are a couple of women I really like and would like to be better friends with (one of them invited me to come over to her house, and have dinner with her and her husband this weekend). I’ve really liked them, right from the start. I have another student, though, who the moment I saw her, I thought, “Uh-oh.” There was something about her that reminded me of Psycho-Student, who was in one of my public speaking classes at IU. This girl, like PS, really seemed to eager to get into my life, and after I gave the students my phone number, she kept calling me until I told her to stop (politely). After my leg was hurt, she was really helpful to me, but still, I always felt uncomfortable with the situation, like I had to keep on my guard. One day she sent me a phone message, which she complained I didn’t return, although I actually did. I haven’t heard from her since then, and she’s not as dominating in class as she once was. I’m hoping that there will be no weirdness in the future, because she’ll have to be in my class all year long.

I just finished a satisfying day of shopping. I bought an expensive tube of Olay Regenerist, which got me two 50 RMB-off coupons, and then I went up to the shoe/boot floor. I found some cool-looking, biker-esque boots I really loved, but I thought I really had no need for that type of thing. Nonetheless, I’ve wanted this type of boot since I saw bikers wearing them in London in 1995. Also, for the past few years whenever I shop, I wrestle with questions like, “Am I too old for that?” “Am I too young for that?” and, “What kind of clothes should I wear, anyway?” Plus, how do these clothes and accessories fit into my lifestyle, as a big nerd and university lecturer? Well, to make a long story short, I bought them. They cost more than 400 RMB, which was like 60% of the original price. So now I’m a nerd with cool boots again, just like I was in college.

To top off the day, I went to a really nice, high-end food court at the mall and had a bowl of bibim bop, a Korean rice pot dish. Whenever I eat it, it makes me think of that Hanson tune, “Mmmmm-bop,” not that I would ever voluntarily listen to that type of music!

Last night I had a dream in which I was angry at myself for wasting time. I thought I should slap myself, as punishment. I remember that I tried to do it, but couldn’t. Then I really exerted myself, and woke up in pain, because I had really slapped myself! I must have hit myself really hard, because it hurt for a long time.

It seems that I’m prone to saying stupid stuff in front of Japanese people. Last year at SZU I was at a party where we were talking about rumors. I suddenly said, “I heard that the reason some of the land on campus is undeveloped is that it was used as a mass grave by the Japanese!” Then I realize that the person standing right in front of me was Japanese! I was really embarrassed! This year, I was having lunch with my Japanese neighbor and a teacher from New Zealand, when the New Zealand woman started complaining about Bush and asking why anyone would vote for him. I started saying it had a lot to do with conservative Christians in the US, and then the Japanese teacher suddenly said that SHE was a Christian! I don’t think she took offense, but I felt rude anyway.

After reading about how Bart is going through the movies he owns, from A to Z, I decided to tally up the movies I’ve watched since July 12, when I started my new diary, and see how many letters of the alphabet I’ve covered.
A: Anchorman, Angels in America, Archangel
B: The Boy Friend, Bubba Ho-Tep
C: Casshern, The Cranes Are Flying
D: Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary
E: The Ebola Syndrome
F: Fahrenheit 911, Feeding Boys Ay Ya Ya, The First Nudie Musical, Fritz the Cat
G: The Goddess of 1967, Golden Chicken, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
H: Haxan: Witchcraft through the Ages, The Heart of the World, His Girl Friday, The Hours
K: Kandahar
M: The Manchurian Candidate, The Missing Gun
N: Napoleon Dynamite, Night Watch
R: Romance X
S: Sissy Boy Slap Party, Sweet Movie
T: Teacher’s Pet, The Trials of Henry Kissinger
V: Vibrator, A Voyage Round My Father
Y: Yokgai Monsters: Spook Warfare

I would have loved to take a bath and soak my foot, but the water coming out of the faucet is red. It’s happened before, and the dorm lady explained that it’s because there’s a lot of rust in the pipes that comes unstuck sometimes. Still, it reminds me of this story I read in the Ryder once about a guy living in Russia who found out there was a dead man in his water tank.

My classes went pretty well, and painlessly, this morning. I remembered to write more information on the board than usual to keep my hearing-impaired student oriented. He needs a little extra attention, but I hope to be able to give it to him without making him feel self-conscious.

Later I went to the video store. I found that in that neighborhood, people seem to have a distinct prediclection for bumping other people. I also found a store where I could buy cranberry juice, which is a rarity here.

During my afternoon nap, I had an interesting dream. I was in Harbin, sleeping in a vat of snow. I found out that I was really comfortable, and actually got a sexual thrill, when snow fell down inside the hood of my parka.

I finished my first draft of my mutant story tonight. Now I just have to keep going on it, polishing it up, while remaining committed to getting a real, finished product within a reasonable time. Then, there’ll be the matter of what to do with it.

The video place called today and said they’d gotten the copy of “Casshern” I ordered. I don’t know who to send it to first. I know Ruth would love it, but I want to send it to Americans before some butchered version appears there that’s 20 minutes shorter, with a hip-hop sound track.

I hope everyone out there is doing their part and celebrating by watching TV.

I found out about this important, but heretofore unknown to me holiday today, when I visted the Shanghai Art Museum to see the 2004 Shanghai Bienniale. There were several video installations I liked — one by an artist named, I think, Fung Meng Bo, another by a female Vietnamese artist, and one by a Korean artist named Jane Bum Park (I think). I saw a fun DV piece called “Cosplay” (which made me wonder why there isn’t more humor in art), and one called “Outlets,” which featured the guy who’d been hit with a brick in Yang FuDong’s photo “The First Intellectual.” There were also photos by Cindy Sherman and a video installation by Coco Fusco, but neither was particularly interesting. There was also no sign of Zhu Yu, who became infamous after eating a baby in a performance piece at one of the previous Bienniales. I don’t know what ever happened to him. Maybe he’s in jail.

I got a really good haircut today, and when the guy gave me his name card, I was surprised to see that his English name was KinKy. I don’t know if he knows what it means, but I suspect he does.

I invited the Israeli man who was so helpful to me when I was hurt to go out for a blind massage. I’d thought it would be good, and comfortable, but it turned out the blind guy did something really bad to has back, and when the massage was over, he couldn’t stand up! I was really horrified and embarrassed! I raised a bit of a fuss — I wanted another one of the masseuses to fix whatever was wrong for free. I also asked the masseuse how he could hurt a customer like that — after all, he is supposed to be trained, so he should know if the person has any back problems, or if he’s exacerbating them. The guy was really indignant and started protesting that it was all because the Israeli man was too fat! Then another guy with no pupils or irises came up to me and started telling me that, firstly, my friend was too heavy (and how a man with no pupils could know this I don’t understand), that he should just sit and rest for a while and he’s be OK, and that the problem had to do with the cold weather. It was a real bummer! After raising a small stink like that (which I think was a legitemate thing for me to do), I don’t think I can go back there, which is too bad, because my masseuse was really good.

I’ve become a vinegar fiend. I think it happened about a year and a half ago. I actually worry about which brand to buy when I go to the supermarket. One of the reasons I’m going shopping today is that my supply is nearly exhausted. Get this: I even considered visiting the Shanxi Vinegar Museum on my last winter holiday!

On another note, here’s a funny tidbit from a review of the oral-sex instruction manual She Comes First, which appeared on Slate (the review was written by Dan Chaissen:

The thought of Karl Marx performing cunnilingus is somehow particularly nauseating.

Nothing much new here, I guess. I did end up making a complaint to the foreign office lady about the guy who lives upstairs. He might be mad, but he’s the one in the wrong. I also went to the library today, where I found they had some interesting old anti-US pamphlets. I’ve been writing a bit, but I have this trouble that I have an idea for a situation to write about, not exactly a story. It’s hard for me to know how to end what I’ve written. Oh — I also got a new high score on Tetris today.

I worry about this sometimes. I don’t have strong sexual desires, or, to put it a bit differently, I don’t have a strong desire to have sex with any of the people I know, or to go out and find people to have sex with. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of taking Prozac, but then again, I really liked Shawn, and I met him when I was on that. I can also be philosophical about it, and remember that if I committed suicide, I wouldn’t be able to procreate then either.

Also, I don’t really want to have a baby, I think. I just want to raise a kid. So maybe I shouldn’t worry so much about it?

In another tidbit, I was surprised and taken aback when another one of the teachers here, who I had invited to the election party, suddenly started quizzing me about why I wasn’t married, if I was divorced, and if I’d had long term relationships. I was pretty insulted by that, and got the feeling she had been speculating about the answer with other people. I told her that I was socially retarded. It made her uncomfortable, which is sort of what I intended. I don’t think she’ll ask me about this again.

My upstairs neighbor’s weird early-morning noises are continuing. I actually spoke to the person who I thought was the culprit — this old man who lives on the fourth floor. After mentioning the noises to him, he suggested I was hallucinating, and I had to clear up, as tactfully as possible, that I believed he was the one making them. He insisted that he never gets up early, though.

Today was another very early morning, with loud conversation starting at 4:15 a.m. So, I formulated this letter and e-mailed it to all the people on the fourth floor:

Dear fourth floor residents,

I’m writing to comment on a problem I’ve been having down here on floor three. It seems the person above me gets up quite early in the morning — usually 5:30, but many nights (like last night) as early as 4:15 am. Sometimes the person will use an alarm clock (which once he let ring for several minutes), and other times the person may be moving furniture around, talking loudly with someone, or doing something else.

I know when you live in an apartment building or dormitory you can’t have everything your way, and sometimes you have to deal with noise from other people’s apartments. Nonetheless, 4:30-5:30 is very early to be woken up, particularly for those who have to teach from 8:00-11:30. It’s tough to teach on four and a half hours of sleep.

In addition, it seems that the person in question’s apartment is above two people’s bedrooms — mine and my neighbor’s. We’re frequently awakened by the activities going on above us. The time you want to wake up is your business, and what you do when awake is your business, but please remember that the ceiling is not so thick and the sound will carry down into the apartments below you.

I already talked to the person whose apartment I thought was above mine, and he insisted he never gets up early, so I decided to send this to all of you, b/c in that way, I was sure I’d be communicating with the right person, whoever it may be.

Thanks for your attention to this matter!

Mary Frances (302)

I got my picture taken yesterday, and I looked like crap. My skin was really dull and saggy looking, and I had sort of a double chin. It’s the worst picture I’ve taken in a long time.

I’m sure some of my skin problems were caused by the physical and mental stress of my accident, but I was horrified anyway. I’m trying to think of what to do. Maybe there are some products I could try. I’ve been thinking of checking out Olay’s Regenerist. Maggie Cheung does the commercials. I find I’m a lot more influenced by celebrity endorsements here than I was in the US, and I think that’s because I’m less familiar with the products here. Oftentimes, the celebrity in the ad (like Chow Yun-Fat in the Rejoice shampoo ads) makes me remember the product. I have had good luck with Olay products in the past, and Maggie Cheung is better-looking now than when she was younger, so maybe I should give it a try.

I’m going to send today’s posts bit by bit, because my connection isn’t so good right now.

I’ve been thinking lately about what I want in a man. I guess I could sum it up by saying I’m looking for a strong man, but not someone who will try to boss me around. I’d like a man who knows what he’s doing with his life, and has a sense of purpose, but isn’t so rigid or driven that I don’t fit into his life. I’d like someone I could lean on, and admire, and who could help me feel safe, but not someone who would try to make me obey him.

From time to time I think up odd slogans that I’d like to see in advertisements. Here are a few:

Better cartoons.
More crazy people.
Japan.

Weird religion.
Good newspaper.
The Christian Science Monitor.

Five hundred years of history, and it still tastes like crap.
Moutai Baijou.

Sometimes I wonder if I take the wrong strategy when dealing with things that upset me. I always try to keep my emotions under control, and not become too upset, even when I’m by myself. Then I think I let myself feel sad in dribs and drabs, which means the sadness goes on for a long time. Maybe I should have let myself cry yesterday when I was upset about what happened.

It’s not that I feel terrible about it or anything. I just feel melancholy.

I asked a security guard what happened yesterday, and he said the woman had post-partum depression. That’s really too bad! So it turns out the baby the woman was carrying around was the dead person’s after all. I’m still feeling jittery and nervous. I think the screaming, especially, freaked me out. In scary (or gross) movies I always cover my ears, because just seeing things makes them easier to bear. I did that in Ichi the Killer, for example.

It seems like it’s a bad mental health autumn. I was feeling bad before my accident and was prescribed some Celexa to take along with the usual Prozac. I feel better now, but I keep seeing all these weird stories in the news about naked people trying to board jets and stuff.