Talk about a rut. That’s where I’ve been. Stuck in a rut.
Coming to the end of my Living Like I’m Dying Tour, I’ve been wracking my muddled brain figuring out how the hell to sum up this past year.
All attempts to summarize my year of this incredible journey have failed to produce one bit of profundity. Day after day, I sit writing a bunch of trivial drivel that a million other people have written once their lives have been transformed. It’s been said far more eloquently by many writers far greater than I. What can I possibly say that hasn’t already been written?
Then it hit me. I’m so silly sometimes.
There is no cause to produce some grand summation. Reason being…
You’ve been with me the entire time.
From the minute I stepped on the plane in Panama City, heart heavy from my family betrayal, to losing my ATM card in Thailand, boogying with me in Bali, snorkeling alongside me in Borneo, shedding tears together in Vietnam, awestruck with me in Cambodia, feeling the onslaught of insects attacking our bodies in Laos, and rejoicing with me when I reached the end of the maze.
Sipping Chardonnay while we toasted me finding my way to Taiwan.
Yup, you’ve been there through it all. And I thank you.
This entire experience would not be as special if I didn’t have you to share it with. Knowing you were there, interested and concerned, kept my spirits up when many times I’d been so completely gutted. You kept me company during some of the loneliest times of my life.
You let me know it was OK to mess up and not get so down on myself when I made so, so many mistakes.
It wasn’t often, but on the few times I was afraid, you held out a hand. You experienced many of the most joyful moments of my life with me and, most importantly, you laughed at my jokes.
So, thank you for tagging along and keeping me company. My year tour of Living Like I’m Dying has come to a close, and I’m grateful for your company. But…
I’m not done. Not even close. The tour was such a success I’m moving forward with the TV series version of Living Like I’m Dying. My greatest hope is that you keep tuning in! So, without any further ado…
Enjoy the show.
Season One, Episode One: Lary Goes Back to School
Whoever said learning Chinese was easy needs to be shot. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard anyone say learning Chinese was easy. Probably because they got shot.
So let me be very clear. Chinese is not easy. AT ALL.
Forget I haven’t been in a classroom for far too many minutes. Forget my brain has atrophied due to normal aging and way too many bottles of Chardonnay. Forget I can barely comprehend English. Put all that aside.
My future life depends on me learning the most difficult language on the planet.
WTF am I thinking?
Obviously, I was not thinking hard enough. I was failing miserably. My days and weeks were consumed with trying to get a handle on this complicated way of speaking. It seemed insurmountable.
For an American, learning Chinese is basically asking your brain to throw out the instruction manual and start over. There’s no alphabet, there are thousands of characters, word order feels backwards, and four little tones can turn the word you meant to say into something completely different. Just when you think you’ve finally learned a sentence, someone actually speaks it to you and you have no clue what they just said.
I’m all about a challenge, but this girl is about ready to tap out.
I finally found my new “for now” forever home, and not passing this class means I’m back on the streets.
My class consists of seven Asians from surrounding countries, a guy from Germany, and another lad from the Congo. The German, Congo man, and I are all wearing dunce hats while the Asian contingent is sailing through. I’m flummoxed. Asian brains must truly be superior. Come to find out, all the students from surrounding Asian countries had studied Chinese in grade school/high school.
OK, I call foul. Big-ass time. This is supposed to be beginning Chinese, people. Hello.
Nothing I can do about it now. I do know this: I did not just finish my Living Like I’m Dying tour to spend the next two years of my life locked up in study hall. Uh-uh. No way, José. Great. Now I’m speaking Spanish.
The stress of this class is unbelievable. Like I don’t have enough on my plate of rice to contend with, FFS. Maybe I’ve overestimated my abilities. Wow, that would be a pisser. After overcoming challenge after challenge to make it to the finale, only to be voted off the island.
Then again, if this past year taught me anything, it’s that no matter how many doors slam shut, there is always an elevator shaft somewhere to climb out of.
Staring up at the top of that shaft a razor-thin beam of light shines upon my grimaced face. The elevator walls shake with the reverberation of a booming voice that echo throughout the entire suspended cage: YOU SHALL RE TAKE THE CLASS. And just like that…
OMG…
Welcome to Chinese 101…Take Two.
One year. One hell of a ride. I think that deserves a glass of wine. 🍷
