Mosquito Dreams + Chinese Bets

I slept fantastically well last night, considering that the mosquitoes were having a party at my house. But as usual, mother dear made life so much more bearable by leaving behind tons of putting-mosquitoes-to-sleep pallets. They're tiny rectangular-shaped disks that you insert into mousepad-like machines that supposedly put mosquitoes to sleep so they won't bite you. America should import those in serious quantities, trade imbalance or no.

So why am I up at 3 a.m.? Well probably because I kept wondering what they were dreaming about. The mosquitoes, I mean. Do they have nightmares of a huge force crushing the wind out of their figurative lungs and then being crushed to death? Do they somehow find meaning to their existence as consistent nuisances?

Plus, it's so sticky hot over here. I'm aware that I have an air-con but somehow I feel like I have to win some non-existant bet to show Jayne, Dawn, and Hwanhi how Chinese people cool down. Apparently, during our last roomie (plus honorary roomie Jayne) sleepover before my parents came, I had told Jayne to just calm down when she complained about being hot while I was swaddled in my comforter. I eloquently explained to her the age-old wisdom that my grandma passed down: When you are calm, you are naturally cool. All this while I was semi-conscious. I remember none of it, but by golly, I will show Jayne how it is done - in true humid Shanghai style.

So I'm blogging - to stay calm and use my jetlag to document some momentary lapses of rationality.

--
So much to do today! Finish editting thesis (does it ever finish?!). Get haircut. Have lunch with a government relations lady to learn about customs in greeting Chinese officials. Get a facial + massage. And open a bank account so I can get paid.

Progressive dating advice

Tonight, over rocky road, I mentioned to my family that I probably wouldn't date for an entire year in China.

Well, one because there will probably be no church boys. And two because last summer when I did my internship in Beijing, I was mainly hit on by 30 year-old co-workers who still lived with their moms, creepy old men with jade rings, and overly buff marines who looked like they could crush me if they accidentally sat on me.

My mom just smirked and asked, "Well, do you know how to do email dating?"

She then told me that since I'm an intellectual (questionable), I can just email boys and be satisfied with imagined love. While reading poetry.

Jody jumped in with helpful tips about online dating websites that her other 11 year-old friends "accidentally" created profiles for.

But her advice did come with a warning: No matter what I do, I shouldn't share cups with those boys (the ones I meet online), because apparently in fifth grade, that's as good as getting married.

Packing up

Packing up and moving away to another country is a pain. I can't believe how much stuff I've hoarded. It almost makes me want to quit my job and just stay and bum around Utah.

And um I just realized that I have a lot of clothes. I used to think that people were exaggerating. I packed 53 skirts + dresses after DI-ing four to five garbage bags full of clothes. And I haven't even counted the winter skirts yet.

If I were a tragic heroine in a comic book series, a love for skirts with crazy patterns will definitely be one of my debilitating character flaws. Luckily dad and his frequent trips from China to US this summer plus his high roller flyer status means that my pieces of luggage will all be taken care of.

Spoiled much?

---

p.s. I don't think I'm ever going to be ready to say goodbye to all my friends. I don't know how people do it.