Recent Ruminations

At times I find myself wrangling with the idea of whether or not to become an adult. There does appear to be some element of choice in the matter these days, at least in the majority of the western world. Just because I am a thirty three year old, college educated professional female doesn’t mean I am automatically granted access to the wonderful world of adulthood. I sure as hell don’t feel like an adult. I’m often irresponsible and have trouble abiding by certain laws. I indulge in reckless whims on a regular basis. I eat cake for breakfast. I write personal emails at work. I put everything off until the last possible minute. I take naps on a fairly regular basis. I flirt unabashedly and happily reap the fruits that I sow. I don’t read the newspaper or watch the news and I am at best a sporadic voter. I don’t plan for the future, have no clue what I will live off of when I retire. Every couple of years I change jobs. All these adolescent behaviors overshadow my limited adult characteristics—I pay taxes and I earn a salary.

Among my peers, I know this protracted evasion of adulthood is a rapidly flourishing trend. There is even a name for this new breed of middle agers, grasping at whatever viable shred of jejune youthfulness that they can hold onto. Yupsters. Forty year olds who exhibit characteristics more typical of twenty year olds. I’ve dated a few of them and know first hand what about this phenomenon. And then there is that whole ‘sixty is the new forty’ initiative…which would make forty the new twenty? Adulthood keeps getting delayed, put off further down on the dusty road of life.

It seems like when my parents were in their thirties during the 1980’s, they were full fledged adults. There was no doubting their ranks in the then standard and inevitable pool of responsible adults. They watched Ronald Regan deliver speeches from the oval office from their Lazy-Boy recliners. They were the exhausted parents of four children. They planned yearly vacations to the Outerbanks. Always had a pet dog in the house. Annual dues were paid to the country club. The Toyota minivan was parked outside in the driveway along with the Chevrolet Cavalier. My dad coached our softball team. The newspaper came daily and was read, usually in the bathroom shrouded in my fathers stink and cigarette smoke. When did this automatic and expected initiation into adulthood become a choice?

I imagine this trend has something to do with our ever lengthening life span. Before we know it, retirement age will be 90 instead of 62 (by the way, when did it change from 55?). Way back in the days of “friends, Romans, countryman” the average life span was a mere 22 years and the concept of ‘childhood’ did not even exist. Perhaps there wasn’t time for it. Everyone was on the fast track to adulthood since their time on earth was practically over before it began. Who has time for hopscotch and sandboxes when the imperative milestones in life are waiting to be accomplished and time’s winged chariot is aggressively nipping at your Jesus water walkers?

So when water sanitation was methodically employed and diseases were less of a mystery, the fortunate souls in the 1600’s were afforded eight or so more years to the bargain that is life. It was about this time that someone started pedaling the concept of childhood. I’m guessing the invention of ‘a childhood’ can be attributed to a teacher who preferred to sing and dance, color and play games instead of teach Shakespeare and Ovid. For a while, the concept of childhood was limited to eight or so years. Despite its increase, the average life span of thirty years was still a brief flicker of flame in the grand scheme of things.

Question—when was it that childhood, the ephemeral stuff of youth, grew from a brief eight years to encompass the first two decades of one’s life? Of course I am lumping adolescence in with childhood since there is the ever increasing reality of not expecting responsible, adult behavior from a person until they are in their twenties (after all, the prefrontal cortex is still developing). Adolescence by definition ends at twenty years of age, and although the original meaning of the word in 1482 denoted becoming an adult and growing up, today’s adolescents are more or less lacking expectations from their elders to make substantial strides towards becoming mature adults. Somewhere along the timeline, there was a serious mitigation of expectations in regards to achieving maturation. I’m thinking the extension of childhood occurred in 1938 when the word teenager was added to the lexicon. The consequences of this simple eight letter configuration is that our ‘young adults’ today are seemingly exempt from the notion that they should be preening themselves for their imminent life as an adult. That they should be weeding out their prurient qualities and supplanting them with responsible adult tendencies. As it stands, the extension of childhood has created an ideal situation for the ever festering careless mentality of our supposedly-soon-to-be-productive members of society.

Which brings me back to the issue at hand which is not only my tottering on the precipice of adulthood, but a whole generation of waffling should-be adults delaying the plunge into the expectation-laden adult world. It seems that modern science has gifted us with a life span that is continuing to spiral upwards; the high ball of the average is currently 85 years. It only makes sense that if we are living longer, we can take longer to grow up, right? Who wants to be a hard working, productive citizen for even more years when you can be an irresponsible and indulgent kid for a longer period of time?

As for me, I did manage to pull off a simulacrum of adulthood back in my mid to late twenties. I was married, teaching, the owner of both a car and a mortgage. I sent my bills off dutifully on a monthly basis (more or less), owned a riding lawnmower, planted flowers all around the yard. I entertained other couples at dinner parties. My nieces and nephews came over to visit and we baked cakes and dyed Easter eggs. I had a cat. I filed my taxes when that time of year rolled around. I had the burden of a running list of household items in need of repair. I bought people presents when their birthdays rolled around. I baked apple, pumpkin, and banana nut bread for my friends and family at Christmas.


But then my simulation ceased to be. I went back to working in a restaurant, renting a less than luxurious apartment, storing my belongings in other people’s mortgaged homes. And after all this expounding on life expectancy and the recognition that (at least in America) morphing into an adult is something that, as each year passes, is taking place later and later in life, I think I can safely conclude that my foray into adulthood was premature. I was at least ten years too early. If recent trends are any indication, my current status as a shiftless, confused, non-committal individual is right on track with a significant portion of my generation and future generations.

This same philosophy does not hold true in developing nations, countries where people are not spoiled and softened by the cushion of capitalism and certain unalienable rights. I will not expound on the lack of childhood in developing countries, something I have only recently glimpsed but of which I am not fully apprised. I will have to write about that at a later time. For now, I left with the question of whether this ubiquitous extended adolescence is a gift or a curse?

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

The Petronas Towers/Twin Towers as seen in Entrapment with Catherine Zeta Jones.
Some colonial architecture.

I love all these keyhole arches on the side of this building.
More lanterns...

I took a taxi from Malacca up to Kuala Lumpur. I was dropped off near the bus terminal in Kuala Lumpur. The hotels were across the street but I didn't see a crosswalk and there were tons of cars and buses. I took about five minutes just standing there, watching the traffic patterns, overwhelmed by the amount of people and vehicles. It was a drastic change from the quiet little town I had just been in. I finally realized that I was just going to have to dodge the traffic with my big wheelie suitcase. I usually travel with a backpack over here, but I wanted to do some serious shopping and once I put everything in my pack, there is never any room for anything else. So here I am, white girl with big suitcase, in a crazy city that seems to be mostly men which was somewhat intimidating. Men of all shades of brown and yellow and black. And they weren't afraid to stare either.

I made it across the street and chose my accommodations based on the presence of an elevator. Rolling my suitcase along the sidewalk, filled with people and uneven surfaces and unidentifiable fluids was a rather sketchy venture. After I checked in and unloaded, I went back out to take a look at the city. I could not get over how many men there were. I hardly saw any women at all. It was literally an ocean of men. At one point, I was worried that I was in a place where women were not allowed because I only saw men. As much as I love men, and brown men especially, this was slightly frightening. I had a brief attack of panic, my thoughts were stuck in a pattern along the lines of "Omigod, I'm in a foreign country, nobody knows where I am, I'm surrounded by Muslim men, they are all staring at me, there are way too many back streets around here."

Once I made it to Chinatown, there were more women and more westerners so I felt a bit better about things. There was some great shopping to be had there as well as Little India. At night I went over to where the Twin Towers are and they are a sight to behold close up with all the lights on. Beautiful. I met and hung out with a guy from the Sudan who had been living in Kuala Lumpur for three years. I saw some beautiful Indian and Malay children, too. I also met someone from Bangladesh. I do love that I get the opportunity to meet people from all over the world in my travels.

I sure was ready to go home when Saturday rolled around.

Malacca, Malaysia

Tiles in the town square.
A trishaw driver. Some of these had stereo systems that played music while the guy rode you around town.
The ruins of an old church. From the top you could see the Straits of Malacca which was important back in the days of the spice trade.

An old Dutch church.
The clock tower in the town square.
Doesn't this look like small town America?
I love the Chinese lanterns!
Jonkers Street.

After Singapore, I took a bus into Malaysia and stopped in Malacca. This is a sleepy town with more colonial influence. I walked to the top of the hill and sat in the ruins of an old Dutch church. There were some guys selling their wares, tourist trinkets and such. There was also a guy playing the guitar. The first song I hear him play was Country Road (they love to play that over here in south east Asia...he didn't quite get the mountain momma line but I didn't have the heart to correct him either; maybe the fact that he was missing several key teeth garbled his pronunciation). I experienced a very strange feeling, a clashing of times and cultures. Christian church, Muslim country, a centuries old edifice, a popular song playing in the background, Asian, European. Such an interesting blend of influences.

I liked Malacca. It was small town. I also stayed in a real hotel (not like the hostel in Singapore where I had to share a bathroom with everyone and their mother) that had a restaurant where I ate nearly every meal. I visited with some of the other travellers and got to know the waitstaff. There was a guy who played live music every night so that was an extra perk. Besides the historical square and church up on the hill, the other highlight of the town was Jonkers Street, kind of like their Chinatown. Most of the places were closed due to the holiday but it was decorated with tons of red lanterns and hanging lights. Just walking down the street at night was magical.

Chinese New Year

I could have watched these guys all day. There are two men inside the lion outfit and they did some incredible stunts.

It is Mickey Mouse's year (even though I thought he was a mouse and not a rat...?).
I wish you could see the eyelashes on this thing.
The art of Chinese brushstroke.

I should have done a bit more research before I made my plans for Chinese New Year. I was thinking that I would get to see a whole bunch of festivities while I was in Singapore. I was wrong. The New Year for the Chinese is something that is spent with your family. Since most of the people in that country are of Chinese decent, many of the businessmen had left to go be with their families. Many places were closed and the whole place seemed somewhat deserted. I was able to catch a lion dance at a mall near Chinatown which was fascinating.

Chinatown was alive and well early in the week which I was thankful for. Even the Chinatown there is clean, way cleaner than the one in Bangkok. More open, easier to walk through, nicer products. While I was shopping, I was caught off guard in an antique shop. A very handsome guy, twenty something, Chinese, started chatting me up in the store. I happened to be looking at some very provocative ivory carvings of various extracurricular positions. He asked the usual questions. Where are you from? Are you married? Boyfriend? I was flattered to be getting such attention as he was a handsome fellow. But then the questions changed a bit. Where are you staying? Would you like for me to come over? Whoa buddy...this was the middle of the day in an antique store. I could see something like that happening in a club at night after a few drinks but this felt totally out of place. And then he said, "Will you pay me?" This was a first for me. I have never been asked to pay for services of that kind. Pay? I wondered if he did this all the time. Was he a pro? I didn't think they had prostitution in Singapore as it is such a wealthy country, but I am just naive I guess. Even though I really did want to take a closer look at the salacious little figurines, I turned on my heal and walked out of the store.

But what I really wanted to ask him was how much it would cost. Not that I would have paid or anything, just out of curiosity.

Singapore

Did Pizza Hut at home make this pizza for the Chinese New Year?
I think they mean business. If they put this sign on the Governor's Palace wall, maybe they wouldn't have so many trespassers.

Very trendy.
There is a really smelly fruit over here called durian and this building looks like a huge two huge durian. It is the Esplanade, a concert venue among other things.
This fire station seems kind of small town America to me.
The National Library. Whew. They are serious about their books.
This made me think of Charleston or Montreal.

Last year there was a teacher who would go to Singapore all the time. After visiting there, I can see why. IT IS SO CLEAN! Everywhere is landscaped and manicured, kind of like Disney Land. The way the ultra modern blended in with the colonial architecture was fascinating to see. The men are taller and very handsome, Eurasian. While I was there, it was mainly men who waited on me, in restaurants, Chinatown, even the massage I had was given by a man. Ooh la la! This was a nice change from Thailand where women almost always serve you.

A big plus (as well as a negative) is that most people in Singapore speak English. How can that be bad? I heard people complaining. I never hear people complain in Thailand. I'm not saying that they don't do it but I don't hear it. On a whole though, I think there is much less complaining in Thailand compared to other places because of the Buddhist belief that to want causes suffering so your goal is to not want. Anyway, in Singapore I had more than one person complain to me about how stressful life is there, how expensive everything is, how low the wages are. And yes, it is expensive. Think NYC prices.

And there are a whole lot of fines. You get a fine for not flushing the toilet. A fine for chewing gum which is illegal in the country. A fine for jaywalking. A $500 fine for eating on public transportation. The cops are almost always plainclothes officers so you can't just behave when you see a man in a uniform. It is a very controlled country. But I hear the counterculture is alive and well, even if somewhat underground.

I spent my time eating at lovely restaurants with the handsome male waitstaff, exploring Chinatown and Little India, shopping some but not much because it was crazy expensive, and wandering around admiring the beautiful old buildings and the striking new ones. I had a Singapore Sling at the Long Bar in Raffles Hotel, which felt like it was straight out of the Bombay Company. It had those spade-shaped straw fans lazily rotating on the ceiling, the kind that servants would have been manning one hundred years ago, fanning white men in their cream linen suits smoking cigars and sipping brandy. Lots of dark wood. Classic. Colonial.

I went out one night and felt extremely old. The drinking age in Singapore is 18 and a whole table of kids walked into this fabulous club Le Baroque. They looked 15, I swear. And they were ordering bottles of whiskey! I wanted to know where their mothers were.

Fickle

Back in January, I started the job search. Since I had decided to return to the states next year, I figured it was time to get all my paper work in order. I started looking at different school districts in Virginia, pay, SOL scores, demographics of students, affordable housing in the different areas. I was looking at the application procedure for Virginia Beach Schools and was distressed to read that "grade point averages, student teaching evaluations, references, and interview ratings are used to form a pool of qualified applicants. " Grade point averages? I have been teaching for eight years and they want to look at my GPA? Depressing.

No job vacancies were listed that early so I decided to start updating my resume. Only problem was I couldn't find my resume. Ugh. And where are my Praxis scores? Who do I have to ask for reference letters from again?

I am not ready package, polish, and sell myself again.

In the end, I changed my mind again. I figured I can suffer through administration for another year. It will look better on my resume to have a three year stint instead of a two year stint at a school. And besides, it could always be worse at the next place. At my current school, at least teachers are given much freedom in regards to what they teach and how they teach. I don't know how I would do with a prescribed way of teaching. So, I am staying after all. Over the summer, I will get my ducks in a row so that I can start the search for another international school for the 2009-2010 school year.

What this means is more cheap shopping, pedicures, massages, island holidays, and more travel! Sunny will be in Venezuela next year...I might have to meet her in Trinidad.

January 31, 2007

Traditional Thai dancing. The Thai people are forever resourceful. The lights the girl is holding are made out of water bottles cut to look like flowers.

A Thai fire balloon. These are amazing, especially when there are hundreds of them in the sky at one time.
More Thai dancing. Check out those nails!
Sunny, Daylin and me in our fancy Western party hats and our ornamental Thai flowers.

So, I'm a little late getting this post up. It's been a busy and crazy two months. If you remember, I was down in Southern Thailand on an island for the Christmas holiday. It is a quiet island with not too many tourists. The place we stayed put on a big New Year's Eve dinner complete with Thai dancing. The girls had obviously practiced for a long time. Their families from the neighboring village came to watch. Wrapped in their head scarves and standing on the on the edge of all the festivities, the mothers looked so proud of their babies.

After the Thai dancing, the karaoke started. Oh boy. What is it about Asians and karaoke? There were some pretty good performances though. A mousy German woman psychologist really belted one out and it was great. And the whole time they were on the island, I was thinking her husband was the rock star. Go figure. I sang something but it was very, very bad. I Just Called to Say I Love You (the choices were very limited). That was the first and last time I will ever do karaoke.

When midnight rolled around, all the Thai people starting singing a Thai song. Then it was onto the beach to do some fireworks and the fireballoons. The fireballoon is a tradition here for special occasions. In some places, hundreds of them are released at the same time and the sky is filled with floating candles. It is a beautiful sight. Even with the few that we had, it was still remarkable. I like the symbolism of floating something into the sky, letting go. The whole thing made me a little teary eyed, even now.