life. in china. captured through the eyes of a nomad named jen.

so i decided i’m going to be a revolutionary soldier for halloween tomorrow. black knee high boots. black skirt. mao army cap. pins, stripes, all the requisite military insignia. a t-shirt with the yellow star, scissored off at the shoulders to recreate that hot, off the shoulder 80s look. and even some handcuffs. you know, so i can arrest cute boys and tell them they are going to be joining in on the cause.

oh, i’ve recruited one soldierette and possibly one more will be joining.  mao only wished he had a troop of soliders that looked as good as we will be manana noche.
……….stay tuned for pictures. muuuuuuuuuhahahhahahahhahaha.

really. nothing does.

yesterday, my emotions went for a nose dive. i felt depression creeping into my bones when only less than twelve hours ago i was busy playing hostess to sixteen people crammed into my flat. doing what i love to do, entertaining and feedings friends. but hours later, a friend mentions in the club that crush man “likes _____”. now crush man, can’t really like _______. he only met her really, for the first time at the potluck, the potluck i decided to throw to create an opportunity for the two of us to hang out outside the context of booze and bars.

_____ is hot. i think she’s hot, everyone does. so crush man thinks she’s hot too.

but, i ate salad the night before. just to look skinnier. i thought i looked my best. now, hearing those words crush man likes ____ instantly boiled all my insecurities to the surface.

i went to bed at 7. feeling feelings only old friends can understand and not sugar coat. for larry asked me. ” do you want me do you want me to start being realistic? or still play the “aww pat pat” on the back facade?
realistic. you are my real friend.
“you are not ugly. you are not hot. you are cute. you are intelligent. and better than this funk that you’ve put yourself into. if you don’t float his boat, you don’t.”

……….after talking to two of my dearest friends, i’m snapping out of it…….

hoping to live by words i hold to heart “everything happens for a reason”

the phrase, ” in da house? ”

the boss is gone. the coworkers are listening to a chinese pop star sing. chinese pop  songs often throw in random bits of english. like “in da house”

they asked the newly dartmouth graduate, intern, “what does in da house mean? ”

he in turn asked me, “how would you explain in da house?”

i have no clue. no fucking clue.
sorry chinese comrades, this phrase will just have to be marked as lost in translation me thinks.

Or just cursed by cupid? It’s that time of the month (sorry for TMI, boy reader) and I’m feeling whiny. So I’m a gonna whine.

It’s been five months since I landed on the shores of China. And Miss J Chu here, has not been on a single daym date. Not one. Now that’s not really anything out of the ordinary.

If anyone is drought stricken that would be me. I’ve been thirsting for a nice, normal, boy to have a nice, normal relationship since I started wearing my training bra. Seeing how I am approaching my third decade of existence, that is a lot of time. A lot. Of. Time.

Year after year, I hear the same shiet. My GFs all mean well.

“You are just too picky.” “When you aren’t looking, it will happen” “I have a feeling this year is your lucky year.”

But come on. My girlfriends rock. They are superstars, each of them. I may have a laundry list of qualities when it comes to Mr. Right, but so do they. Yet they find boys that are worthy enough to take that list out.

I have a girlfriend who has one serious boyfriend after another without even having to put herself on the meat market. Another one is in love with a boy she met at Taco Bravo on a random weeknight.

In any case, all of my gfs have found, experienced love in some form as they cross off one thing after another (Ambitious? Check. Intelligent? Check. Cooks me breakfast in bed? Check?). Some have enough checkmarks on the list that the wedding bells have now rang. Others have discarded away lists (boys), but have found another one to start the ticking.

Moi, on the other hand, am always the single friend standing on the side lines. Dispensing love advice like Dr. Ruth herself, but never the one needing it.

Why? Because for me, finding a boy to like and hopefully to love, is like riding a camel through the Sahara desert and seeing a mirage. I ride and I search, but am never able to quench my thirst. Sure, in the past almost three decades of my existence, I’ve met guys that I’ve liked. Yet, because its so rare for me to encounter a member of the male species whom perks my interest, when I do spot a potential love victim, I become infatuated too fast too furious. And for one reason or another, the mirage always turns out to be just a false illusion of happily ever after.

So, that’s where I am now. After five months in Beijing, I’ve met and become infatuated with a boy who stands waving a red flag. He doesn’t do relationships.

I’m an all or nothing girl.

Thus, the love forecast continues to be: long dry spells with isolated thunderstorms.

Shiet. I’m thinking maybe climate change is a good thing afterall.