Most Terrifying Moment in China

WARNING: THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR WEAK OF STOMACH

Over the last year, I've had the opportunity to be in and out of Chinese hospitals multiple times, sometimes as the patient, and sometimes as the friend/PR specialist.  My experience has taught me that NOTHING illuminates the differences between cultures like hospitalization, but that is a subject for a different post.  The most pertinent differences are these:

1. Americans don't go to the hospital unless they're absolutely falling apart.  They try to solve the problem on their own via over-the counter drugs.  A Chinese person will go to the hospital for an IV drip if they have a cold.  Even if the illness is mild, they'll ask a doctor what to do.  I've heard several Chinese doctors say that Americans are weak, fragile people, probably because they rarely see an American who is mildly sick.*
2. American doctors explain procedures and medicines before doing or giving them to you.  Chinese doctors expect you to trust their advice without many questions (like ingredients or side effects).  Lower level doctors (there's a ranking system here) are easily offended if you ask too many questions.
3. Because Americans only go to hospitals when they're really sick, doctors are gentle, testing pain tolerance by degrees.  I have seen multiple Chinese doctors quickly and firmly jab or poke a sore/infected/aching friend right after the person said, 'It hurts here.'

Though my experience IN a Chinese hospital has often been unpleasant, the treatment is amazingly effective and incredibly fast.  So when I started having trouble last week, I thought, "Well, try it the Chinese way and go to the hospital before it gets really bad."

[SPOILER ALERT - Involves pus]

I've alway had issues with my feet.  It's one of my loveliest nuances.  When I was about 10, I started having trouble with my toenails.  My nurse mother and older sister went to task, and I learned how to soak my feet in scalding hot salt water, "As hot as you can stand it," my mom would say.  There's this thing that comes over my mom and my sister when someone has something that needs to be poked, plucked, popped, scraped, or (heaven forbid) lanced.  An impenetrable resolve settles in their face, and you know that no matter how much you avoid, plead, or flee, they will find you, the light of a single flame glinting in their eye as they sterilize The Needle of Astonishing Pain.

The problem with feet is that you stand on them every day.  It took quite a while to heal and learn hygiene habit necessary for my picky feet.  The pain was excruciating, even more so when it was time to clean and treat them.  It was all I could do to refrain from kicking my mother in the face as she "released the pressure" in my infected toes and pus poured out.**  I struggled to wrap my mind around how my mother could cause me so much pain, so she explained it to me.

"Emily, if you don't take care of it now, the nail will grow into the skin and I won't be able to fix it.  We'll have to take you to the doctor, and do you know what he'll do?  He'll cut the skin here, slice through the nail and pull it out.  Do you want to have surgery and have the doctor cut through your sore toe?"

Typically, that speech was enough for me to plunge my foot in the scalding hot salt water or to let her finding lancing (shudder) and bandaging my foot.

Dearest mother, I took these lessons deep into my heart.  Apparently.

My feet have been picky for the past few weeks.  I pampered them for a while, then finally gave myself a saltwater pedicure, as hot as I could stand it.  Then the pus made its debut, no lancing required.  I wasn't sure if Neosporin was the answer to my toe-woes, and I have very little of it, so I decided to put on my Chinese hat and go to the doctor before it got bad.

The next day I called Nelly, a dearly beloved friend who was one of my students last year.  She's a nursing student, so I knew I could count on her not to be squeamish.  We trudged on down to the clinic on campus in search of a miracle Chinese toe-salve, while I reassured her that it was a small pain, and my feet weren't in danger of falling off.  After a ten minute wait, I got to bare my stinky feet in front of about 15 people so I could should the doctor exactly where the pus was coming out.***  Instead of giving me medicine, the doctor decided to pull me aside to a private room so he could clean and bandage them himself.

He was a confident, unassuming man, and Nelly trusted him, so I had no problem as he glazed my big toes with long streams of iodine.  I was chatting pleasantly with Nelly when the doctor turned around and pressed the blade of a short pair of scissors against the swollen skin of my infected toe. I jumped back immediately as all my childhood memories flooding back.  'Do you know what he'll do?  He'll cut the skin here, slice through the nail and pull it out...'

The doctor looked surprised, pointed, said something and tried again.  Knowing that Chinese doctors tend to work swiftly and painfully, I whirled around to Nelly pointed at the threatening blades and said "Why this??" in my very best, most direct Chinglish.  She said, "The doctor says it's okay."

It's okay?  WHAT is okay?  There's no extra skin to trim!  Do I get something for pain?  Americans may be "weak" but pain killers are reasonable right now.  I wasn't ready for this!  I do not approve, nope nope, this is not okay, this is NOT okay, THIS IS NOT OKAY!!

Nelly:  "He says he has to cut it."

Me:  "The nail?"

Nelly:  "Um, that part."

Me:  "The skin, or the other part?"

Nelly:  "He needs to cut it.  It will be okay."

At that point, I had zero assurance that the man in front of me would not indeed clip the offending flesh off the end of my toe.  Fear coursed through each vein as he buried the cold metal into the aching flesh and sliced off -- my toenail.

Every muscle in my body relaxed as I collapsed on top of my knee.  Then I noticed the twinkle in the doctor's eye, but he was far too professional to laugh at the crazy foreigner who had a panic attack at the sight of toenail clippers.  I, however, had no problem laughing at my own absurdity, as I explained to Nelly how my mother used to tell me that the doctor would cut out my toenail.  When she translated what I said, the doctor smiled and spoke one sentence.

Me:  "What did he say?"

Nelly:  "He said, 'Your mother is a nurse.'"

Yes.  Yes she is.

I have had a lot of adventure in Asia.  I've been lost on the streets of Bangkok until midnight.  I've slid down the side of a mountain, grabbing onto tree roots as my feet flip out over the side of a cliff.  I've had to swim 45 minutes against a current to travel only 100 feet to a dock.  I've been followed by strangers for several blocks.  But hands down, no questions asked, beyond a shadow of a doubt I can say with 100% certainty that the MOST TERRIFYING experience I've ever had in Asia was getting my toenails clipped.

*Conversely, the Americans tend to think that Chinese people go to the hospital too easily.  That makes Americans sound cold, but in real life, well, it's hard not to roll your eyes when a girl limps to the clinic propped up by two friends because she has cramps.

**Why my sister opted into this hot action, I will never know.

***Nothing teaches humility like Chinese hospitals.

Singularly Thankful

Say what you want about tryptophan, but it's been about an hour since my turkey-time, and my eyelids are feeling heaaaaaaavy....

Before I call it a night, I wanted to write a Thanksgiving post.  This year at the dinner table, I was the once who instigated the round of "What are you thankful for?" questions.  To my surprise, everyone brightened when I asked.  I expected to see half-laughs and get cheesy answers, but it seemed that people were genuinely glad to fulfill the familiar tradition.

We must have listened to about eight or nine people before someone said, 'Hey, what about you?  What are YOU thankful for?'  Let me tell you - I was ready.

For the past few weeks, God's been talking to me about being single and doing it well.  I don't have too many "Thus sayeth the Lord" type of personal assurances, but He's told me for a fact that I won't be single my whole life.*  There are seas of platitudes about how a single person should feel about and/or respond to their singleness,** but this year, God has been pointing out the incredibly rich blessings I have in being a single woman in my community, and century.***

1. Meeting Human Needs.  Thanks to the feminist movement, I have been enabled to pursue, and

   

   Ironically, I was listening to Beyonce's
   'Single Ladies' when I found this.

   attain a career in a field in which I am capable and happy.  Not only do I have a career, but my career enables me to feed, clothe, and house myself sufficiently without needing the assistance or oversight of a man.  100 years ago, this would not have been possible.  I would be forced to marry in order to secure a roof over my head, otherwise risking utter poverty.  Because I'm free from that fear, I'm freed to carefully select a man that will be good to me.  That is, I can choose a man because I want to, not because I need to.
2. Career Development.  As a single, childless woman, I am not currently building a family.  Because of that, I'm completely free to develop my career however I see fit.  I can throw 100% of my energy into work that I love, and devote my creativity and passion into issues that are important to me.  Besides my work, I have time to devote to hobbies, crafts, problems, and passions.  I have time to ponder philosophy, take college classes because I want to, travel to places that interest me, and get involved in a variety of activities that may take me away from my home.  Any woman can (and I would argue that all women should) pursue these things, but my singleness allows me to do it easily and without guilt, which leads me to the next item.
3. The Women-Wars: I am Switzerland.  There are many women who raise beautiful families.  One day, I hope to be one of them.  In the meantime, my childlessness mercifully exempts me from a wide swath of Women-Wars.  I will not be evaluated by the cleanliness of my house, by my skill as a chef, or by my children's manners.****  When I use my smartphone in public, no one immediately assumes that I ignore the fleeting charm of my two-year-old's chocolate-smeared face.  I am not criticized for buying myself a new shirt.  If I'm fat, I'm not criticized for setting a bad example, and if I'm fit, I'm not criticized for choosing vanity over children.  I pray for and work toward a day where no woman has to face that kind of criticism.  Until then, I'll suffer pitying looks from other women and breathe a sigh of relief when they ignore me completely in order to explain to a young mom how the non-organic formula she's feeding her baby WILL in fact cause irreparable brain damage.
4. Experience is the best teacher; vicarious experience is a kinder teacher.  Many of my peers enjoy non-singleness.  Somedays it's hard to watch; on other days it's dazzling!  Regardless of my reaction to what I see, the fact is, I see it.  I've seen a myriad of approaches and responses to things I haven't experienced yet: weddings, in-laws, miscarriages, run aways, house-buying, emergencies, children with special needs, post-honeymoon marriage, enduring and fading love.  I've been blessed to learn from the successes and failures of the people around me.  There's no way to avoid life's troubles, but according to my experience as a student, it's much easier to pass a test if you study first.
5. Societal Expectations.  When discussing potential spouses, the dominant feedback from my community is, "Take your time, and choose carefully."  What a blessing!  Some may fear that I'm lonely, but the overriding message from my friends and family is that the quality of person I choose is far more important than my marriage age.  I expected this in my early twenties, but those years are gone.  Even so, I hear "Consider well, evaluate carefully, be wise, don't worry, ask God..."  Many of my peers aren't as fortunate as I am.  Their families push them toward men who are marginally interested or emotionally removed, because ANY man is better than NO man.  No voice of influence in my life holds that opinion, and I am thankful for it!

There are many days that I resent my state of singleness, but this week I full of gratefulness and thanks for all of the truly unique and wonderful blessings that come with this season of life.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Not my sister's potatoes or my dad's turkey,
but I didn't completely suffer this Thanksgiving.

*To those of you who laughed, remember that marriage isn't a guarantee, or right.  People live healthy, happy, marriage-free lives every day.  I've wondered before if that was God's plan for me, so I asked Him about it so could embrace it completely.  But He's told me clearly that's not the plan.
**Most of these platitudes come from wonderful married people who haven't been single since their early twenties.  I often wonder what makes them an expert in singleness, given their comparative inexperience.
***Some of these things apply to single men as well, but many of them are specific to the empowerment of Western women that has only developed in the last 100 years.
****For some reason, people often assume that single woman can't, won't, or don't have time to cook.  This is utterly ridiculous and laughable - we have more time to cook than ANYBODY!  But because they don't cook for a whole family, people don't have high expectations of single ladies.  Low expectations are so easy to blow out of the water...

Day 17: Researched Whelmed

I've often heard and repeated the joke about being 'whelmed.'  If a person can be overwhelmed, and underwhelmed, then why can't someone just be whelmed?  The joke of course is that 'whelmed isn't a real word.*  And what would it mean anyways?

My search for work has led me to the definition of what it means to be 'whelmed.'  I know there are scads of opportunities for work out in the world, and that much of it can be discovered with a few clicks on my computer.  But how do I know if I'm viewing credible schools?  Maybe I've just discovered a good website.  How do I know if the country is a place I could spend a large chunk of time.  Do I guess?  Ideally I'd visit each place, but I don't have extracurricular funds for wise ventures like that.  I can do a ton of research, which could easily make me feel overwhelmed, but I can easily get frustrated, or underwhelmed, by the information that's missing from the websites of individual schools.  So here we get at the definition of whelmed: the knowledge that the resources you need exist, but you lack the information or experience needed to procure them.

I'm headed into the third week of my prayer month, and I feel like God is pointing me in toward one or two open doors, but I haven't yet diligently pursued other options.  I think God uses open doors as guides, but I don't want to lazily take the path of least resistance.  I don't want the echoes of 'What if...'  to follow me to my next job.  I want to sink my teeth into my next job, and I can't do that if there's a language barrier.  If I choose another international position, I'll have to invest time and effort into learning the language.**  Tonight I started researching individual schools in a few Eastern European countries, but I think I was getting the cart before the horse.

Here's the new plan:

1. Listen to a news reel in the country's indigenous language.
2. Listen to traditional music.
3. Learn about the country's history, read its news, and find out what's trending socially.

THE NEWS REEL.  When I first arrived in China, I had a difficult time adjusting to the sound of spoken Chinese.  I find it rather gutteral and accusatory.  My apologies if it's your native language, or if you find it entrancing.  My opinion is merely an opinion, and that's how it lands in my ears.  As a musician, it's difficult to be constantly surrounded by sounds that seem harsh and unyielding.  My current plan is really helpful because I associate the sound of the language with the country as I read about it.

TRADITIONAL MUSIC.  I was a musician before I became a teacher.  There are some parts of Chinese music that really appeal to me, and there are other forms of music that are difficult for me to engage with/reconcile to/understand/enjoy/tolerate - take your pic of descriptor as you listen to Exhibit A. (This piece is actually pretty easy to get into.)

HISTORY, NEWS, AND TRENDS.  I think these topics are pretty self explanatory.  Sometimes I find myself woefully ignorant about basic information, like current politicians, names of provinces and territories, and common expectations of foreigners.  I need to know the basics before I enter into another country long-term.

So far, this process has taught me that Albanian is too angular for me to listen to for more than a few minutes, and Georgian music sounds like Argentinian Folk sung in Arabic.  Not bad for a couple hours of internet time.***

• Please pray that I only give community input its due amount of import.  My goal this month is to listen for God's guidance, not the crowd's.  I need discernment.
• Please pray for health.  I got a hit of food poisoning this morning. That's never fun.
• Please pray that people will step up as prayer partners over the Thanksgiving holiday.
• Please pray for creative direction and possibilities, for the merging of ideas, and release of desire for things that aren't a part of the best design.  I enough ideas and inspirations for a hundred lifetimes, and sometimes that can be counterproductive to decision making.
• Please pray that the students I am supposed to teach will take a prominent position in my heart as I look ahead.

And health and health and health....food poisoning is just the worst thing created.  Ever.****

*Just kidding, it is.  I noticed my spellcheck wasn't angry, so I looked it up.  Apparently it's a verb that means 'to wheel around' or 'to wheedle out.'  And now you know the rest of the story.

**Thanks to a couple of blunt and discouraging teachers, I have an aversion toward learning languages.  One told me that I couldn't understand my classmate's appreciation for their native cultures, and another actually described my French as 'atrocious' and 'sterile.'  Now that I can evaluate these people through my teacher-lens, I can see that they themselves weren't very good teachers.  Even so, I have very little confidence when it comes to acquiring new languages.  I'm not accustomed to lacking confidence.  I don't handle it very well.

***I have further decided that the internet is a magical place that reveals the secrets of the universe.  Seriously, it's amazing that it can all fit into a cellphone.

****Besides heartbreak.

Cicadas, Part II

I was first greeted with the gentle ROARS of summer cicadas soon after I arrived in China last year.  As a native of the American Pacific Northwest, I had no exposure to the purr of these giant insects that sounded like they could chew your fingers off.  This post describes my first impressions of them, and some lessons I learned from them.  During my second week in China, I was grocery shopping with a student in a huge store.  As we passed the jade-jewelry counter I saw a carved bug, a cicada, the crunchy creature responsible for the inescapable cacophony outside.  I asked her, "Why this...?" and she laughed.  She said it was because of the proverb: 'You will sing again.'  Cicadas die off when the weather gets cold, but they always return in full voice when their time comes.

In this past year, I've experienced a lifetime worth of adventures.  I've climbed mountains, gotten lost in foreign cities (at night), sang for rich and powerful men and women, and counted stars with strangers from distant lands.  I've watched clouds pour into a volcanic crater and released paper lanterns into the crisp, winter night.  All of these wonders contrast sharply with the struggle of the past few months.

In my last post, I mentioned I had a significant loss at the end of August.  I was overwhelmed, lost, and feeling the pressure of preparing to move to another country.  Nothing could distract my feelings, but I had to find a way to function.  I filled my days with stories – TV and movies played while I packed, and I read before going to sleep.  I went to bed early, and I got up late, whispering to myself, “Don’t think about it, it didn’t happen, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think…”

One night I woke up groggy, which is pretty unusual for me.*  I’m not a perky, early-riser, but I always wake up with a clear mind.  I know where I am, what day it is, and how many times I’ve hit ‘snooze.’  That night, I woke up fuzzy, and I didn’t like it.  I turned over once or twice, and couldn’t go back to sleep.  (Which is also really unusual for me.)  It was 2am, and everyone was asleep.  It was too late to get up and do late night chores, and too early to call and early morning.  I kept remembering verses about studying scripture by night, but that book is awfully big.  ‘Where would I even start?’ I wondered.  Jeremiah 29.  BAM.  There it was, out of nowhere.  Jeremiah 29.  The reference carried no special meaning to me, I didn’t associate it with any particular passage.  Jeremiah 29.  “It doesn’t work that way,” I thought.  “Jeremiah is in my mind because my friend mentioned it the other day, and 29 is an arbitrary number that I saw on TV, or written on a box somewhere.”  I’m stubborn, and I don't think the open-the-Bible-and-find-your-future approach is a very effective form of Bible study.  So there I lay.  Resisting.  Stubbornly.  For two hours.  Two hours of tears, and dark silence, as the pain in my heart tried to claw its way out of my chest.

"FINE."  I said finally as I whipped back my covers and thumped my Bible down angrily on the bed beside me.  Jeremiah 29 is a message from God to the Israelites as they are being led off into exile.  As they go, He told them this:

"Build houses, settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce; marry and have sons and daughters...you must increase there and not decrease.  Work for the good of the city to which I have exiled you; pray to Yahweh on its behalf, since on its welfare yours depends.  For Yahweh Sabaoth, the God of Israel, says this: Do not be deceived by the prophets who are with your or by your diviners; do not listen to the dreams you have, since they prophesy lies to you in my name.  I have not sent them, Yahweh declares.  For Yahweh says this: When the seventy years granted to Babylon are over, I shall intervene on your behalf and fulfill my favorable promise to you by bringing you back to this place."

[And then everyone's favorite verse, featured on Thomas Kinkade paintings

and thousands of cross-stich pillows:]

"For I know what plans I have in mind for you, Yahweh declares, plans for peace, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

[End cross-stitch quote, add some flowers.] 

When you call to me and come and pray to me, I shall listen to you.  When you search for me, you will find me; when you search wholeheartedly for me, I shall let you find me...I will gather you in from all the nations and wherever I have driven you. Yahweh declares.  I shall bring you back to the place from which I exiled you."

 I was surprised to have landed on the familiar passage, but what moved me to tears were the verses preceding it: "When the seventy years granted to Babylon are over, I shall intervene on your behalf and fulfill my favorable promise to you by bringing you back to this place."  Restoration, coming back to the place I love, all my ragged edges soothed.

I'm fully aware that this passage was NOT written for me.  I don't think God has exiled me to China, and I don't think He's telling me to marry someone here, or that I'll be here for seventy years.  Like the Israelites, I've been taken from something I loved, and all my hopes, dreams, and wishes can't bring it back to me.  I exiled from that place, and I need to love the stage I'm in.  When the time is full and ripe (a symbolic 70 years) God will restore me to my place.

This promise has been encouraging, confusing, uplifting, and frustrating.  I want to DO something to get out of this stage I'm in, not LOVE IT.  I'm glad God will restore me, but sometimes I still want an explanation about why it was necessary in the first place.  As I've mulled over this passage for the past few months, a few things have become clear:

• I have to work for the betterment of the world I'm in.  That includes my community, my school, and the life-space I'm in.
• Romance is not waiting just around the corner...
• ...but that will change someday.
• When the time is right, God will orchestrate my restoration, not me.

When I first learned the proverb about the cicada, I had a feeling it would be significant to me, but I wasn't sure how.  Now I know: this is a season of quiet for my heart.  I don't want it to be this way, but having it clarified helps me put that topic on the back burner.  Someday I'll be restored.  To that person?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  What I know for certain is that there is a defined plan for this need.

This fall, every roaring wave of insect sounds landed with a splash of promise.  There's a plan; it's going to happen; God is on it.  After months of focused hunting and deliberation, I found my most personal memento of my time here in China: a carved jade cicada.  When the summer cicadas sang, I said, 'God, I hear that promise, and I'll remember it.'  Now winter is approaching.  Every day I wear my cicada and think, 'God, it's a quiet season, but I still remember what You said.'  For now, I throw myself into my work and my community, trying to learn how to live a full, honorable life in this place.

*I can count on both hands how many times I’ve felt confused upon waking.

A Brief Request

This past week has been crazy busy and fun!  I've been running on minimal sleep, but endless energy.  I can only rationalize that I feel as well as I do because of all the support coming my way from home.

I have a lot to say about this week, but no time to write as of yet!  I do have a particular request though:

Please pray for my heart on November 12th.

I've been feeling very....whole lately, but that day is going to be particularly tough on me.  Please pray that God will direct my thoughts and focus where He wants them.

I will write a full update as soon as I'm able!

Day 3: Singleness and a Divinely Directive Foghorn

This weekend marks the end of Culture Week*, and the beginning of my prayer month.

I felt incredibly blessed as I received email after email of people pledging to pray with me.  It was really interesting to see who responded, and how quickly they responded.  I was constantly writing, 'Thank you for praying with me,' 'I'm so touched that you're doing this with me,' and I meant it every time.  I've often thought that my church-family is well spread out now, but I've never called on them en masse before.  From Portland Foursquare, to NCCS, to George Fox, to Resonate, not to mention my family, which often functions like a church in it of itself.  Thank you to all who are praying - thank you young moms who already have your hands full.  Thank you church family that helped raise me, and haven't forgotten me.  Thank you friends from high school, spread around the US who are making time to pray for me, even though our paths no longer cross.  Thank you friends from college, church, old friends, and new friends - I am incredibly blessed to have you on my side.

I was excited to enter into this time of prayer whole-heartedly.  Then - BAM!  I was hit with 3 days of persistent, dull headaches, and defeating struggle with the grief I feel.  In the past, anytime I dedicate a time of prayer to God, He guides my focus to a completely different area of life that He wants me to address.  I need to focus on my next move, but I have to do it with the life-premises that God's directing me toward.

The theme that's been developing over the last several months is "How can I live out 'Singleness' well?"  It's an awkward topic, filled with bitterness, insipid and inane platitudes, false declarations, and a whole lot of deprecation.  There's a lot of talk about how to endure it, how to move past it, and how NOT to do it, but there's very little real teaching on how to live as a single person well.  I feel like this is the lens through which I'll plan my next step.  'How are these two ideas related?' you may ask.  I have no idea.  But it's only day 3 out of 30.

Thank you again to all of you who have prayed for me this past week, and all who are joining me next week.Two work opportunities are currently dominating my thoughts.  I don't know if God's giving me options, or if they reflect things I selfishly want for myself.  Maybe neither, maybe both.

• Please pray that I don't artificially polarize my options by not exploring other possibilities.
• Please pray that I'll kick this lingering headache, and that my grief is proportionate to the amount of time God wants me to focus on it.
• Please pray for discernment over my dreams.  Sometimes my dreams are significant, and sometimes they mess with my head.**
• Please pray that God's voice will be incredibly loud and obnoxiously obvious.  That's exactly what I need right now, a divine fog-horn of direction.
• Please pray for my two dear Chinese friends with whom I've begun Book-study.  Both are very dear to my heart.  It's been ridiculously fun and honoring to see them interact with the Book for the first time, and challenging theologically to adequately explain ideas that I'm very comfortable with.  It's like watching a baby eat whipped cream for the first time, or explaining to a child why someone has a different color of skin.  It's delightful, reminiscent, and you realize that the words you choose aren't informational: they're a formative part of that person's understanding.  It's an amazing thing.
• Please pray for a clear schedule.  I have a lot of research and resume writing to do, and grade, finals, and the holidays are looming.

"I thank my God every time I think of you.  Whenever I pray for all of you I always pray with joy, because you have shared in proclaiming the Good News from the very first day until now."

Philippians 1:3-5

*Culture Week is an extremely stressful time of year for the foreigners at this university.  We're required to represent culture from the WHOLE WORLD with very limited resources and funds.  We all live in the same building, so the atmosphere is really tense.
**For example:  Last night I dreamt about my wedding.  It was at night under an overpass, looking out over a quiet river as the city lights flickered out over the water.  There were few guests, about 75.  I wore a perfect gown.  I remember thinking that it wasn't what I thought I would've picked, but it was perfect, long-sleeved and satin, almost off-the-shoulder, with pink highlights. My hair was simple, long and curled.  I was slender, but not skinny. The music was soothing, the ambiance calm and expectant.  and then he didn't come.  And I walked away from all those spectators dry-eyed.  This isn't the first time I've dreamt about being left at the altar, but it's been years since the last dream.  Maybe it means something.  Maybe it's just a reflection of my pain.  Either way, it nags at my waking hours.