There has been a change of plans. Phil and I are no longer going to the coastal city of Taizhou to teach English. And I am sorta glad because there is a pretty nasty typhoon named Saomai inching its way toward Taizhou and some other coastal cities as I write this. At last check, under our standards, it was a catergory 5. Eeek! At least now we will be a little more inland and won’t be completely drowned when and if a Typhoon comes are way. We have been relocated to Fuyang, a suburb of Hangzhou, the capital of the Zhejiang Province. Although, there is a river that runs right by Fuyang, and I imagine if it rains a whole lot – I may end up floating home. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. Cause that would be bad. I guess the threat of Malaria is the same. Damn mosquitoes. They are every where! The school that we will be teaching at has an elementary, middle, and high school. We won’t find out what grade level we will be teaching until we get there. I am sorta hoping for the younger kids. Who knows though, they may be the worst of the bunch, but I guess one way or another, we will find out. The name of the school is Fuyang High School Zhejiang (浙江富阳中学), and if you want you can go to their website and try to figure out what all the Chinese characters mean, be my guest. You can also go to www.altavista.com and have it translated, but it doesn’t do that great of a job. I am not a 100% sure that it is right, but I think this may be our school’s website – www.fyms.net I guess I will find out for sure once we get there. Well, that is all I really know at the present. As I learn more things about where I am going – I will post the information. And once I get there – there will be pictures galore!!

A lot of people say that if they could be a bird, they would be a Hawk, an Eagle, or maybe even an Owl, but if I could choose, I would be a Hummingbird. They are a very interesting species. Very beautiful and delicate. I just wish it was easier to get a picture of them, but because they are very skittish and faster than a speeding bullet, they make it rather hard. If you have ever seen one, I am sure you know what I mean.

So, that leaves me settling with pictures like the one you see to your right. And I guess until I get one super awesome hi-tech camera or figure out how to rig mine in a place where they can’t see it – pictures like that one will have to do.

They are very curious little birds. When I stand by the window sometimes, one will buzz down to check me out, and then buzz away. They make me laugh when they fight over a feeder that could easily feed a legion of Hummingbirds and remind me of cats when they do. They always seem to hate one another, but there seems to never be a shortage of a new generation. Thinking about it, I guess humans are no different – we just happen to rule the world.

There are many eyes peering up to the night sky looking for a glimpse of the Truth. The truth that aliens do indeed exist. According to the once very popular tv show, The X-Files, The Truth Is Out There. That is what it said in the opening credits of each show. And who could forget the famous poster that Agent Mulder hung on his office wall. Believe it said. Believe. Believe. Believe. Well, I have two things to tell you. The truth is out there and you should definitely believe.

I, Maniac Gone Awry, have proof. Not only do I know that they exist, but I know who brought them here. I know where they work. And I know where they live. Ok, alright, I don’t know where they live, but I’m sure with out much research I could figure that out, too. And I am even more sure that you would be shocked to discover that you live next to one. But if you like, I won’t tell you if you are.

My first item of proof is this picture. Aliens are acrobatic creatures.

My second item of proof is this picture. It seems they like to frequent the bus stop.

My third order of business: They have craftily created their own coffee shop. It is just a scheme to take over our minds! No American can resist coffee.

The brainwashing coffee has paid off. They’ve even convinced McDonald’s to shape themselves like the mother ship that dropped them off. It even glows red at night.

Another picture that proves aliens are among us. They think this is funny – making the street lights look like them.

And now for the biggest surprise of the century. I can tell you who employs these pesky little aliens. Who would have thunk it? Well, there you are. The Truth. Pictures don’t lie ladies and gentlemen. If you don’t believe me you can come visit the Land of Enchantment. All you have to do is go to the middle of nowhere – Roswell. And if you don’t come for a visit – they just may come visit you. They are always looking for new abductees!

What makes a weed a weed and a flower a flower?

I thought that question as I walked through a barren field today. The ground was dry and cracked even though it had rained more in the previous days than it had in the last six months. The West’s ground always looks that way. It’s always thirsty. Always wanting more.

This field was barren in the sense of what humans think barren. There was no edible fruit. No plants that you would like to have in your backyard. There was plenty of cacti defending their plots of life with their menacing thorns. And there were ants. Bigger ants than most people on the East coast will probably ever see. Ants with pinchers that look like fangs of death. I imagine a colony of those ants could cart away a small dog or child.

And there were also . . . I am still debating what to call it. They are flowers to me, but the rest of Earth’s population would most likely call them weeds. Their purpose is the same as any blossom. Bees do not discriminate. They get pollinated regardless. But we pluck them and kill them. Is it because they are small or because they offended someone important somewhere? Or is there another story just as crazy that I have not heard? I do not know, but they are still pretty to me. And that is why I take their pictures. Because they deserve their recognition. God made them, too.

I tried to conduct an interview with the bee you can find in the picture to your left, but all I could hear or make out was, “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Got to get more pollen.” Over and over that is what I heard. He repeated this as he flew from one blossom to another sometimes landing on blossoms he had already been to. “Pollen! Pollen! Pollen! Where is the pollen?!” He would buzz. I tried to interrupt him to tell him which blossoms where the most profitable, but he wouldn’t listen. He was head strong and distracted. I was the last thing he wanted to pay any attention to. When I got my camera close enough to him to snap his picture, he buzzed over and landed on my lens. “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Are you pollen?” He buzzed. “No,” I said. “I am not pollen.” And then he buzzed away and landed on another blossom. I snapped his picture, and went on with my day.

One of the things I will reminisce about no matter where I am, will be the western sky as the sun sets. Some people don’t understand how the sky changes depending on where you are. And you can’t truly comprehend it unless you’ve seen its radiance and glory.

The picture that I have provided was taken by my Father. The picture is pretty, but no picture could paint how beautiful it was when it existed for those short minutes in the New Mexico sky. It looks as if the sky itself caught aflame. Maybe it did. Maybe that is why it looked so beautiful that day.

Ah, the good ole days. Or not.

I don’t think there ever was a day I enjoyed partaking in my expensive education at the University of Hell. Or at least not consecutive days in which I thought I was getting anything out of the never ending “blah blah blah”.

But I can look back on it now and laugh. Was the 4 1/2 years worth it? No. Not in the educational sense. Did I meet some cool people? Yes and no. Did I get anything out of it? Yeah, I found Jenny, my inner demon. Would I do it again? Probably. Why the hell would I do that? Because college is a necessary step in most of our lives. I wouldn’t call it important. No, that is a little extreme, but I think necessary fits nicely. It is just another stepping stone. A slippery one that usually leaves us on our buttocks, but at least it leaves us some where. Hopefully, not poor. Hopefully, more well rounded and wise. Hopefully, the experience leads us to our compass and true north. But if the world is always spinning, and we keep moving north – do we ever find happiness; an end?

Where is my diploma? Sitting between a wall and my dresser, still in the envelope it came in. Am I poor? Not yet, but it’s coming. Am I a well rounded and wise woman of 24, almost 25? God, I don’t even know. That’s not for me to know or to decide. And my true north? It is some where over the horizon, some where beyond that hill, some where beneath that star that I wish upon each night.

I thought Hell was over. But life has only just begun.

For all of you who have a hard time believing that the Chinese have humor . . . Behold! I have found the proof.

Some time ago I was driving around the Clemson area because that is really all you can do up there besides drink. And we all know that I am by no means a drinker. You can thank not living on a college campus for that. (Thanks, mom. Thanks USC for being so freaking expensive.) But anyway, yeah, I was driving around Clemson when I pulled off in some shopping strip mall parking lot for whatever crazy reason. And that is when I saw it.

Oh, boy, did I laugh. I have eaten at my fair share of Chinese restaurants – all with their respectful names, but I don’t think I have ever seen one as original and humorous as this one. Thank the purple heavens I had my camera at my side. I wish I had gone in to eat, but I guess either I wasn’t hungry that day or I figured out where I needed to be.

But I thought someone else may need a chuckle for the day.

Laughing is supposed to make you live longer.

So laugh because it’s kexiao!

So I decided to go to church this past Sunday. I know, I know, go ahead and gasp, I’ll wait. (And just so you know, the church did not implode.)

Done? Alright, well, here is why I decided to attend church for the first time in seven months. I went not for His sake, or my sake, or my mother’s sake, but for my cousins, her husbands and their four month old, Hayden. They had a Parental Dedication. The preacher promised, the congregation promised, God promised, although no one heard him say it, and of course the parent’s promised that they would . . . I guess do everything that the Lord would want them to do in the raising of their daughter. And then they sat down, and the real learning of the day began.

If any of you know me, you know how I feel about churches. In short, I just don’t like them. They are full of hypocrites and liars, fake and greedy souls who care about nothing but themselves. Now I am sure that there are some church’s that have some redeeming people in their congregation, but not enough. And by visiting this new church, I can say that this one was no different.

First, there was the Soul Snatching Greeters. They were strategically placed on the premises to grab new-comers. I was quick to sneak past them. They came close a few times. One prepared a very convincing smile and was just about to put out his hand to shake mine, but I put my head down and ran! He radioed the others so that they may be able to trap me, but I made it through the mine field unscathed. Ah-ha!

And then there was the actually church. Oh, my. It was huge. Not as big as some that I have seen, but it was still too much for the eye to take in. I can only imagine how many trees (and the many homes that they provided) they cut down to build such an atrocity. It makes my stomach churn. I mean, does a house of God have to be this big? I mean does God really care if you build Him a 800 billion square foot building or a little shack? The only thing I can figure is that the people who make these decisions think that God will only love them only as big and as expensive as their church is. What a clever thought!

Inside of the church was the real kicker. They had little information booths like you would find at a sporting event or musical performance. I kept waiting to see a stand where I could buy a hat, a shirt, or a poster with the church’s logo and motto on it, but I wasn’t that lucky. And there was no divine intervention to bring it into being. Darn.

I joined my family on the second row and began the waiting game. Elevator music quietly emitted from the speakers as random people tried to squeeze by to grab a seat. With as many pews as this place had, everyone should be allowed their own. I felt like I was at a sold out movie and there was constantly just one unoccupied seat in the middle of the pew I was sitting on. Trying to allow someone to get by why you are wearing a skirt or a dress is not easy. If they were going to make the church as big as they did, you would think the next logical step would be to allow moving room between pews. I guess they didn’t get God’s memo on that building idea.

But one they did get was: Build two very large screens that will allow you to send subliminal messages to the entire congregation. I averted my eyes as much as possible, but it was difficult. They had the cutest nature scenes splashed across them. Several times I found myself starring at them, and had to pull my eyes away. I wonder how much damage my mind endured.

Five minutes before lift off, a time clock appeared in the bottom right hand corner and began to count down. I was later asked by someone why they didn’t have a count down for how long until the service was over. I thought this was a very good point. I’ll have to tell the Preacher.

The sermon was less than spectacular. I took some notes. They were a lot different than my mother’s. but they helped pass the time even if they were, well, only bits and pieces of what he actually said. But I picked out the main ideas, and that was what I was taught in school whenever I read or studied. I’m so going to hell, I know.

There was more talk about people not related or involved in the bible than those who were. At one point I found out, “That OhMiGod, I killed Jesus.” And that committing crimes was okay as long as your motive was rooted in the right place. I’ll be sure to tell the judge that if I ever get arrested for stealing, killing, or whatever random thing I may get in trouble for. I also learned that righteousness was a thirteen letter word that no one really can define. Or enjoy. Because it is some imaginary place called Bountiful. Through observation only, I discovered that to become a preacher you need only to take a theater class, learn some good jokes, and have some confidence in your lies.

I think I could have summed up this post by simply saying – Modern Churches, I just don’t like them. And with that . . .

This is Maniac Gone Awry

Over and Out

Of all the places I thought I would meet the Holy One of Sector B, I would have never guessed it would have been on a secluded park bench in the middle of a swamp, but I did.

I’ll give you the rundown, but you’ll more than likely never believe me. No one ever believes someone who has met or seen the Holy One of Sector B, because it doesn’t just happen everyday, you know. He doesn’t just bless everyone with his presence. He just visits the crazy people who are sane enough to tell the people who will believe only that the person telling them is certifiably insane. At least, that is what he told me . . .

So, there I was, out looking for strange and unusual creatures with an itch to talk. For hours it only seemed the mosquitoes had anything to say. All I could get out of them was some some annoying “buzz buzz buzz”, which I could only make out as profanity against human kind. I’ll spare you their insults for another day. I’ll just say it had a lot to do with a product called Off and lots of hand slapping. I would have laughed at them, but I didn’t want to get eaten alive. And they would have. Oh, they would.

As the sun started to drift further back to Earth, I took a seat on a nice wooden bench, afraid that my day in the swamp had been wasted. I thought it might be a good time to head back because my beloved baseball team would be coming on shortly. But then I thought about it and said to myself, “They are 12.5 games back. It would take a miracle for them to win even the wildcard. The Holy One of Sector B(Baseball) would seriously have to pull some strings. But since that isn’t going to happen, there isn’t any reason to rush home.”

As my synapses finished shooting that thought around my head, there was this wooph sound behind me. It sounded like a big squirrel had fallen from a tree branch as he jumped from one to another. You know that sound, I’m sure. It’s a funny sound. But since I hadn’t seen a squirrel all the live long day, I didn’t think it was a squirrel that had landed behind me. Curious as to what it was, I turned my head slowly to see.

Coming from the bushes, and brushing off some muck, leaves, and the remains of a tree frog on his right sleeve, the Holy One of Sector B came walking toward me.

“Damn, you killed the only living creature that would have talked to me within a 3.4 mile radius. Thanks.”

The Holy One of Sector B looked down and plucked the remains of the tree frog off his right sleeve and held it up before his spectacles and said, “I was aiming for the bench, but a mosquito flew in my eye and . . .”

“I totally understand,” I said, totally interrupting him.

“What? You fly too?”

“No. I rode on a motorcycle without a helmet once. I cleaned out mosquito guts from my teeth for a whole week.”

“Ick.”

“Yeah, that is what I kept saying.”

There was silence for a bit. I was trying to get the mosquito thought out of my mind, while the Holy One of Sector B tried to make himself look more Holy. After getting most of the swamp off his clean white uniform, he came and sat beside me.

“So, yeah, you’re right about one thing. Your team is most definitely going to need a miracle if they hope to see any kind of post season.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so. But, I’ve got some good news.”

“Really? Did you save 15% on you car insurance today?”

The Holy One of Sector B looked at me really annoyed. “That was really lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. . . but you really have good news?”

“Yes, Maniac, I do.” He paused for a moment, then said very seriously, “I deal in miracles.”

“Like the Gunslinger delt in lead?”

“Your testing my patience, Maniac. Do you wish to hear my Miracle Proposal?”

“You sure know how to make a bride blush, Holy One of Sector B.”

“MANIAC!!!!”

Ok. Ok. Ok. I’ll be good. It must be this swamp heat getting to me. Either that or I am in the early stages of Malaria.”

When I got the stare of death and total destruction, I knew it was time to shut up.

“Here is the deal, Maniac. I was on my way to see me some goat haters up north about a miracle that they wanted, but when I heard you mumbling to yourself about how your faith in your team was going kapoot, I decided that the goat haters had hated this long – they could hate a little longer.”

” . . .”

“What, nothing to say?”

“Decided to listen.”

“Impressive. Seems your type can learn.”

“Hey!!”

I spoke too soon, it seems. But getting down to business, Maniac. Here is the deal. Your team needs some luck, a miracle. Well, I will give them that. In a form of a cake.”

“A cake?”

“Ask questions later. Listen, Maniac, or I’ll give the cake to your other favorite team. I believe the wear pin stripes.” And I didn’t mumble another word until the Holy One of Sector B left. “The cake will give them courage, endurance, faith in themselves, and most likely the shits, but they’ll get better, at least their percentage of winnings that is. And hopefully, with any luck, I put the ingredients in right, and they’ll make it to the playoffs, no problem. But don’t be asking for a World Series now. I don’t bake cakes that big.” He swatted at a mosquito that was sucking his Holy blood, and I could of sworn I heard about a billion angry “buzzs”, but I kept my mouth shut for fear of screwing up the entire rest of the season.

He said a few more things to me. Nothing all that important, all except for some pretty cool trades that were going to take place at the last possible second and how he had made some pretty crazy miracles in the ninth inning and some other crazy situations for some other teams. I had to bite my tongue pretty hard a few times there.

And that was how it happened. Now I just sit and wait and hope the right people eat that cake. And that Mr. High and Holy got all the ingredients right and that they were measured correctly.

But as you all know I could never let an interview go without a few pictures. The latter is my favorite. For obvious reasons.

And in closing, all I have to say is, ” GO BRAVES!”