I am writing this as I sit in the back of a taxi on my way home (well, first to the subway station for a 30 minute ride and then home) from a long day at work. The sky is overcast; a smoggy, dirty, grey blanket tossed over the city. The air is thick with a pungent mist that dampens my skin. I feel like some sort of urban fungus. Needless to say, I’ve hit a low-point today. It all happened so quickly though: a precipitous drop in my mood in a matter of seconds. The plunge started once I left the office at five and started on my journey/commute/trek home. Facing the bus station just ahead, I heard the familiar sound of the machine lurching past me, only to careen by the empty stop and leave me behind in the dusty mist to wait in vain for another thirty minutes for the next one to show. It didn’t.
Normally I don’t mind the wait-- which by the way entails an invasion of uncomfortable gawking, pointing,and staring at the white girl in a suit and pearls. But today the attention really irked me, so I hailed a cab. Before I got in, I looked around with the loud honking and heavy traffic flooding by, and the “what the hell am I doing here?!” thought ballooned in my head, which I quickly tried to pop and toss out, but it still bobs up and down in my head like a slowly deflating birthday balloon. I hope that writing about my bad day will divulge myself of all of this negativity.
In moments like these I need (I must) to remind myself how unbelievably lucky I am to be here. Yes, my commute SUCKS. Yes, the city smells like a smoggy turd. Yes, China morphs simple, common tasks into the most complicated ventures that wreak havoc on my (im)patience and (in)flexibility. But, if I dwell on these inconveniences I will forget the real reason I am here. Why is that again? Oh yes.... If you’ll excuse me I have some soul searching to do.
(I’m just being dramatic...it really all isn’t that bad. I think I am just cranky, tired, and hungry).
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