the clothes on my back, pt. 1

On the cusp of 2011, I’m more inclined to look forward with anticipation toward the following year and the opportunities that lie in store for me. However, I usually carry in the back of my mind the adage that to know where you’ve going, you’ve got to know where you’ve been. So it’s useful for me to reflect on 2010 for a short time before giddily planning for 2011.

This time last year, I was bringing in the New Year in a New York City bar, somewhere on the lower east side, drinking with a friend and reminiscing about our college days. I had a plan to return to Taipei; ostensibly I was ‘obligated’ – financial obligations, social ones – but it was actually in the hope of resurrecting a failed relationship. While back home, I reconnected with old friends in ways that spurred second thoughts about going back to a city that had brought me so much trouble (also a great deal of fun). When the Taiwanese consulate in Manhattan denied my visa, it seemed like I was being sent a message. Muleheaded as I am, it made me more determined, and a few weeks later I boarded a flight and entered Taiwan on a 30-day landing visa.

I spent the next two months working odd jobs and flying out of the country on visa runs. In March I went to Macau, in April I went to Hong Kong. As my savings dwindled, the prospects of going home for good (and in bankruptcy and ignominy) seemed increasingly likely. My emotional state was like a shattered window that had been fused back together – from a distance, it was in one piece, but the cracks were still there and a strong wind might blow it right back out of the frame. I pulled myself together enough to nail a very crucial interview for a job I had wanted over a year and a half earlier – an editing job at one of the more reputable English publishing companies in the country. (Bear in mind the country is quite small.)

At first, everything was going well. I remained fixated on a certain person but the job gave me something to do. I immersed myself in work and churned out material faster than I learned how to properly proofread it. Everything still turned out all right and eventually my editorial skills caught up to my fervent writing.

Anyway, this has all been summarized in previous posts. My point is that the year began about as low as it could have for me – coming off of 2009, there really wasn’t any other way. As 2010 progressed, there were ups and downs, but the overall course brought me more professional experience, lent me an increased air of sobriety and maturity, and stabilized my emotions. These are chiefly due, respectively, to my editorial job, the physical effects of age, and the sharp and sophisticated woman with who I am currently in a relationship.

In addition to granting me a venue to hone my editorial skills, the magazine job allowed me a focused workplace free of drama. I suppose there are always emotional undercurrents in any place where humans assemble, but it was wholly unlike my previous working environments, particularly in Taiwan. No kids running around screaming. Groups of people didn’t regularly wander in and out of the building. Cattiness took a backseat to productivity. Of course, the working hours in conjunction with my inclination to stay up late constantly kept my sleep regiment on borrowed time. This combined with the stress of early 2009 probably contributed greatly to the accelerated physical aging I seem to have undergone over the past year.

Also mentioned in a previous post, I’m frequently mistaken to be several years older than I actually am. This is partly due to the contrast between how a westerner ages compared to a Taiwanese person. Although I am half Asian, it appears my outward appearance of age correlates more strongly with my other Caucasian aspects. As I generally refuse to spend time in ethnically-’relevent’ contemplation of physical traits, I will take that no further, but suffice to say that as I bring my third year in Taiwan to a close, I seem to have lost the allure of a young western traveler, and I am now just another old foreigner. This, of course, can have its merits in terms of anonymity, but I’m battling a compulsion to keep an internal track of how many fewer girls seem to give me the once-over as I walk down the street.

Finally, the high plateau of 2011 was when I met my current girlfriend in the pool. A friend of mine had just gone hiking when he asked if I wanted to go for a swim, as well. I sheepishly remarked on my inability to swim, and he offered to give me some pointers. I agreed and we went to a public pool. When we arrived, my friend, who is a male model, commented that the pool is a hotspot for gay men. I immediately became aware of dozens of scrutinous eyes peering at us from all angles, and cringed. Of course, that wasn’t going to deter me from my swimming lesson, so after my friend showed me the basics, I ventured on my own to perform a few laps. It was then that I met N.

Actually, I crashed into her. She was learning how to swim as well, and her friend Daisy was teaching her. My friend used this as an icebreaker (he was aware of how low my confidence at the time) and we chatted with them for a bit before they continued their lesson. I found out later that they thought we were gay. Later on, I saw N attempting a few laps on her own. When she paused to catch her breath, I mustered the courage to speak to her. “Xiaojie, ni hao…” I found out later that it’s a common phrase Taiwanese girls hear when seedy foreigners drunkenly leer at them.

We chatted for a bit and I suggested we meet sometime to talk over coffee. She agreed and asked for my contact info. I happily gave it to her and swam away. I was glowing for the next couple minutes until I realized I hadn’t gotten her information and she’d already swum away. I stealthily prowled around the pool like a seedy drunken foreigner until I spotted her in a lane in her floral bikini, goggles large like an old time aviator, and practically jumped in trying to get her attention. She gave me her facebook, and we met for breakfast the following week. The rest, I guess, is ongoing history.

I continue to be amazed by her maturity and free spirit. There is an openness about her that releases tension inside me and helps me stay uncoiled. She inspires me to better myself as a person – to let go of my anger, to pay more attention to my responsibilities, and to better appreciate the healthy things that make me happy. I’m grateful to her on so many levels and for so many things; her patience, her warmth, her guidance, her unique style, her ability to cook up some really tasty soup, the way her legs look in a pair of shorts… the list goes on for miles.

Well, I’m about to head out for the evening, and I really wanted to post something before the end of the year. It seems appropriate to reflect on 2010 while this year is closing, and anticipate for 2011 as that year is beginning. See you on the other side, and sorry for the abrupt endi