Half In Half Out: Shanghai

If a perfectionist has to live in world where everything she sees has so much to be improved, where the right way to do things had always need to be fought, where everyone takes imperfection for granted. Should she

A) Give up right away and be a imperfectionist instead;
Fight and fight so that she is always exhausted;
C) Fight and fight till she surrenders to imperfection;
D) Leave the place;
D) Commit suicide.

I guess a more reasonable answer should be none of the above, but to pick your fight. That sounds rather moderate. Moderation is of course less dramatic, less fun, but usually a good way to solve problems. “Pick your fight”, however, inevitably adds a layer of complication. What is the criteria for picking the fight? Does the same criteria apply to a cool pleasant day and a scorning steaming hot day? Does the same criteria apply to a land of green grass under quiet mountains, and dusty roads with construction trucks screaming through right next to you?

Another way to solve this problem, is to start an organization, say, to call it “United against imperfection”. If of course doesn’t do anything - if it trys to then everyone in it will be too annoyed at the imperfection of the organization. It shall be used as a “bitching corner” (borrowed concept from a friend) to let out the deep feelings about all the imperfect things and people around us, all the things that bother us, annoy us, all the things that is unfair to us, all the “sick and wrong”ness that shouldn’t exist.

Dear friend, if you read this, would you like to join me in this yet another organiation called UAI “United against imperfection”. If so, let’s quicky register a URL.

Hehe.Hehe.Hehehe.

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那起儿， 正在膳趣坐着吃饭，边吃边谈着对虹口那房子内部装修的一些设想，房子比较窄， 要想着怎么把楼梯安排好， 还真有点挑战性哪。

突然地， 没有任何预兆地， 我被一大段记忆占据了， 我好像被带到了另一个地方，人坐&#22312on的对面，魂已经走了。

是一个大大的会议室， 是世界前五名生物技术公司的board room. 屋子的前面， 是放幻灯片的荧屏， 其他三边是U字型的长桌子， U 的开口处朝荧屏。

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I woke up to the early hours of the morning. It took a long time for the outside to turn white, for the birds to wake up and sing. And then the street cleaning people are out with the sound of their broom brushing the street, and bicycles riding quietly outside in the valleys of the residential compound.

The city of shanghai feels like in a state of fever these days. The five-nation summit will be on this week and rumors say that the U.S. FBI has warned the shanghai government of a possible terrist attack. Rules are up in certain part of the city for people not to open their windows during those days, not to hang clothes outside to dry. Domestic companies (not the multinationals) also had the people working last weekend to give days off during the week. As a result, we are free from Wednesday till the end of the week and don’t have to go to work until Monday.

Nights are busy. Man, woman, elderly and children are all watching the world cup. TV sets stay in the channel of the world cup’s live broadcasting, at home, in the fruit stands, and grocery stores. Taxi drivers keep the radio on it. There are also advertisement close or remotely related to the cup passing by everywhere. Games are in Germany and people stay up to watch - I heard my upstairs neighbor watching the three o’clock game last night. The game started only a few days ago, and it will last for a month.

I came back Sunday afternoon and weeped hard in D and his shabby old T-shirt. It has been an especially hard trip going back and forth between New York, Boston and Philadelphia. I broke the record of not missing an plane ever, and lost my ipod in the Avis Logan airport Boston. None of that caused any damages since I managed to get everything back. The hard part of the trip is the revelation of the insecurity, the ignorance, the arrogance and the cruelty of people around me. And the sadness of my dispensibleness, helplessness and hopeless inexperience.

“It is all in your brain. Your thoughts are killing you!” Irene said.

I try not to think and I started to watch the game with the rest of the city. Last night, it was Australia and Japan, and I could not make up my mind who I wanted to win. It was Japan at first because one of the big Australian tackled a Japanese guy purposefully. Then the Japanese guy did something of similar malice. So i was not sure anymore. But it was quite amazing to see the Australians got in three goals in the last ten minutes. Wild.

I try not to think. Mom gave me the book of “No. 1 Lady’s Detective Agency” to read. It is about a clever fat Lady who opened a detective agency in Botswana. Easy read but very interesting, and peaceful. I was reluctant to finish it. When I did, I ran out to the bookstore trying to get more books, only to discover that they are light, incoherent and frivilos. And I think I’d read them only for the purpose of investigation study of current Chinese literature.

Now it is six o’clock in the morning June 13th 2006. I am in Shanghai. I am not thinking. I am writing my blog. D is sleeping in the bedroom soundly, but the city is now awoke. Cars and trucks will come out soon and another day of bussling and hussling is coming.

—–

Sent out the term sheet mid-night. Got up at seven to check email to make sure there is not a conference call at nine. Talked to D. Went back to sleep. Woke up by the boss’s exciting voice about the reply from the U.S. and how good my single sentence in the email was, and of course needed to write back As Soon As Possible!

Whatever.

A guy got out of the taxi right as I walked out onto the street - nice! “To East Yan’an Rd. and Middle Xizang Rd, go to Yan’an Rd first, large turn (Shanghainese way of say left turn) on Xizang Rd.” There are only two roads involved in this short stretch of distance, yet I am always surprised how often I have to raise my voice in telling the drive “DO NOT use Xizang Rd. GO TO Yan’an Rd first”. Xizang road is a no-no because it’s always crowded during my morning commute hour.

I used to walk to work but it has been taxi for a while. At first it was because that my boss called me to get to work in a minute, then I feel bad for getting up late and going to work late - the taxi doesn’t save more than ten minute than walking, but it makes my guilt less for some reason. I also found I started to do my make-up in the taxi, that makes me feel good too because I feel I have saved time somehow.

I didn’t know I’d be pressured by another soul in this world - I usually press myself harder than others do. But nei, this particular boss seems to be able to make my life difficult if he wants to. I know that because when he doesn’t bother me, my life is so peaceful and quiet. Such as today.

It was weird for a while as I sat there realizing that I don’t have emergency situations to deal with, I don’t have a deadline for a report, a speech, a spreadsheet or a powerpoint presentation, I don’t have telephone calls to make, I don’t have new subjects to figure out, I don’t have meetings to go to, to prepare or to write minute for, not even receipts for reimbursement, not even messy table to clean.

It was weird for a while as I sat there wondering what I should be doing.

Haven’t written personal email for a while, so I did some of that. Missed the early deadline for an important meeting in Chicago, have to pay $400 dollars more, thought about ways I can get around with it, but decided not to make troubles for myself. There is a dancing company called Shanghai Dance. They are having a couple performances this week. I checked out their website, saw the video, sounds kind of interesting, so I wondered for a while who I should be asking to go with. Asked my assistant to teaching me how to read financial statements. It was fun for a while - I got him to pay me ￥10 for something he was sure I cannot get on the web, but I did. Later it started to ask for more brain than I want to use, so we gave up.

I strolled home slowly trying to take a different route from my regular paths. I wondered in my mind how the past few months got so intense. After the spring festival, we moved, window or no-window, bad smell, missing air vent in my office, paint the wall blue… Beijing. Visitors come, speeches, dinner with the prestigious scholar. Prepare for the visits. CDAs. Engagement letters. Agenda. Negotiation table. The new faces of board members. the smily analyst and the investment bankers who ran away. The me who wants to run away as well, the boss who disappointed me and who asked me to stay. The silence. The uncharacteristically silence. The walks in Hangzhou. Nice evening, beautiful view. Keep walking till legs sore, till too tired to think.

That report was never finished, was it? That part of the memory, did I subconsciously intend to seal it? It’s blocked. I cannot remember it.

I spent half an hour at a pirated CD stand picking music. Got a dozen. Stopped by a fruit stand to get some pineapple and lemon. It is said that they are effective in getting rid of construction smells.

I don’t need to work tonight. No expectation of phone calls from the opposite side of the night. No anticipation of text messages out of the already full memory. No deadline. No assignment. No obligations. No aspirations. No cause. No will. No physical pain. No intangible guilt. Not hopeful. Not desperate. No emotional drama. No silent conversation. No deep sadness. No large happyness.

Is this the state of nothingness in Daoism? I like it.

—–

It was sticky rice ball festival yesterday(I am sure there is better translation somewhere). The last day of the Chinese spring festival.

I came back from Beijing in the evening. Took the airport bus No. 5 - the taxi line was long. In the television on the bus, I saw programs on the festival, how the festival started, what do people do in this festival. You never thought you’d learn things from those tiny bus TVs full of advertisement, then here I was, listening intently about how the festival is characterized by “nao”, meaning noisy, and people do three things today, eating sticky rice ball, seeing “hua deng” (flower lamp), and guessing riddles written on pieces of paper hanging from the lamp.

I saw a large white moon hanging in the middle of the sky as I pulled my luggage through the doorman’s new concrete shed. He has gotten used to seeing me dragging my luggage in and out. My room is cold comparing to the Beijing dorm room Alan lives. I turned the electronic heater to the maximum in the living room, and the air conditioner in the bedroom to 28. Air conditioner as heat source is unheard of anywhere else, I heard people comparing the heating AC with a hair blower. It is supposed to be able to heat up the room fast, or it makes you feel heat fast, the room, however, never gets hot.

Oh, I miss the heat in Beijing already. Radiator heating, just one piece under the window, but it gets so hot that you have to open the window, and then you have to only wear T-shirt, or a tank top, with just our shorts. Alan and I wore our shorts while we worked on my report. She helped me to type, while I focus on what to say and say it out loud.

Beijing warmed me up inside out. I recently discovered that friends and family warm one’s heart, from a comparison experiment.  The control is Shanghai where I don’t have friends and family, the experiment is Beijing, where I have friends and family. Well, it is not really a controlled experiment. Because there are other warming factor about Beijing - the beijing people. When you ask for directions on the street here, people tell you! I have given up asking for directions in Shanghai already, especially in older neighbor. They never tell you - you are not buying, why should they waste their brain power to tell.

Maybe it is just that I spent a good weekend in Beijing. Maybe it just happened that Alan’s warm home and warm heart met the cold traveled heart. Maybe it was my liangliang jiejie’s cooking, the authentic potato and hong shao rou, the donggua soup, the ants climbing tree, the chao suan tai, the three treasure tofu mushroom, the chicken feet, all home made, all authentic. I eat out in good restaurants a lot. This meal was the best since I came back to China.

I started to understand Beijing’s road. The center of the city is the forbidden city, then there are circles of high ways radiating out from the center, second circle, third circle, fourth circle, fifth circle. Thus it is easy to identify a place in Beijing. You say which circle, then you say east, west, north or south. With these simple ordinance you pretty much identified the place. The north of the city is more desirable, because it is “high wind, high water”. It is said that the water for the tap in the north part is better for drinking than that is from South.

I had not like the roads of Beijing, but as I start to understand it, they started to make sense. I guess it is just another way of living and deciding how the cars to. It is not the most beautiful, but it is pretty efficient. After all, why should there be only one way of planning the city.

Anyway, last night sucks. The fireworks outside, only to contrast the cold and lonely sight inside my apartment. I had to work on the report to the board.

Stayed up till two. Went to bed. Had to get up early so that I can get to work by nine.

A new year has started.

—–

Andy and I made a bet on whether I can publish a New Yorker article. I consider his part of the deal too big a commitment.

“If you want, you can take back the bet on my New Yorker article. You may have been too tired to realize what you got yourself into.”

“Also, Let’s make it two years - life time is too long to be fun.”

I text-messaged him in the airport while waiting for my plane back to New York.

“You can change the terms of the bet any way you want. I cannot really hold you to a bet you are certain to lose”.

He wrote back in an email later because his cell phone is so old that the letters and numbers on the buttons are all rubbed off.

“Thanks for the encouragement. I will try not to have it done before you get a cell phone with lettered buttons”.

He gave me the last words.

—–

I am hungry. Dinner last night was popcorn in some sort of sea turtle club, and three beers. I had a cup of milk this morning.

I had thought the gathering would be filled with young snobbish fashionable people who can barely speak Chinese. But I was pleasantly surprised. We played murder together, that was actually fun.

If I don’t go and hunt for food, if I wait till two days from now when my aiyi comes here to cook, if I stay in the same place for these two days, will the earth stop turning around? will anyone know? will anyone care?

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圣诞时分街道的华灯， 窗口里的圣诞树，这么些年， 从来没有让我太注意地观察和倾心地热爱。 可是我现在坐在上海的高楼的林海里，坐在独自的无聊中，却只要仔仔细细努努力力地想像圣诞的样子， 正如我独自走在圣保罗暮色里的安静的小街，仔仔细细努努力力地想像春节的热闹的歌舞升平。

我想念， 我想念到有泪， 我想念到心疼， 可是， 我想念的是什么？

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