{"id":48,"date":"2007-10-28T22:43:21","date_gmt":"2007-10-29T04:43:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/?p=48"},"modified":"2007-10-28T23:44:14","modified_gmt":"2007-10-29T05:44:14","slug":"the-elusive-26th-birthday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/?p=48","title":{"rendered":"The Elusive 26th Birthday"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/span>Last year, I told my Japanese students it would be the last year to celebrate my birthday. Next year would be 24 instead of 26. I would start to go in reverse. 25 was the oldest I wanted to be. <\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span>I've never felt so old in my life as right now. I feel my muscles as they move me through the mountains of central China. I am slow. And my teammates must wait on me, and ride back if I have a flat. <\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span>Yesterday or tomorrow, I am exhausted when we stop and do not have the energy to smile or talk to the gathering locals. I just feel. The pulsating muscles beat against my veins like a bell tolling on the hour.<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/span>Today the sky leaked its white blood again. It seeped down the mountains like a wound, sluggishly hugging the primary colored store signs and the putrid florescent trash that lay on moist asphalt like corpses not yet cleared away. <\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code>It crept in, fingering my bones like the moonlight falling on faces when there is no other light. It wrapped the world in white gauze, healing it. <\/span><\/span><\/code>I stood on the balcony of our inn, perception clogged by white, and waited.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/span>It is Monday as well as Sunday or October 23rd<\/sup> or 25th<\/sup>.<\/span>I have been losing track of the days. I write \"Day ?\" in my diary and it makes me feel swept away like the fog that withdraws midday. A day reversing its steps. Like a stream of consciousness.<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code>\u00a0<\/span><\/code><\/code><\/span>I think it was 4 nights ago when it rained in the middle of the night, when everyone woke up clacking their heels on the wooden porch that was our shelter, covering things with plastic, shimmying shoes beneath bags, zipping rain covers over tents to stymie the bursting sky. \u00a0<\/span>I don\u2019t know. It was night and I was daydreaming. I hid inside the tent hoping to go back to sleep and dream the rain away. I\u2019d zip the sun open like a winter coat after a long day. I'd let the sun come in and hold me naked with its rays.<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code> <\/span><\/code><\/code><\/span>But my dreams always bring about the opposite.<\/span><\/span><\/code><\/code><\/span>Today is October 24rd<\/sup> in my dream. And the boys believe it. I wake up to white fog covering the grimy city like a wedding veil. I'm careful with my routine: 1. Make coffee (I cheat and carry around a small bottle of instant Nescafe), 2. Put on biking shorts and T-shirt, 3. Pack, 4. Read a few pages from book on religions, 5. Check on boys. They sleep. They have made plans to let me sleep in and surprise me with Birthday cake. Only they didn't let me know. And I have no idea what day it is. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span>Four nights ago, I danced as the boys played guitar and erhu beneath the moon on top of the hill where we slept. Drew called it a rain dance. The rain was my fault. A Chinese friend of mine said that the rain is female and the sun is male, so I replied to Drew, \u201cWell, I am the yang.\u201d My knees hurt when it rains. I must be getting older soon.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>Today, the sun is dripping again. As if still wet from the rain dance 4 nights ago. As if doused with holy water. My grandmother used to call me the devil in hell. She must be looking down now and pouring slowly.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>We had birthday cake and chocolate milk and Chinese mooncakes and dumplings and dumpling soup and fruit for breakfast. I blew out 5 candles trying not to spit on my name and the Chinese message written in red icing. I felt so honored. I felt young. I felt like riding. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>So we rode 40 km to a mountain town with smiling humble mountain folk and \u00a0<\/span>feasted on the best Chinese meal we\u2019ve had since we started. At least that\u2019s what everyone agreed on. We\u2019re always up for food comparisons. Peter even notices the different tastes of the rice. Though sometimes, if he\u2019s feeling ravenous, he mixes all the dishes together and eats with a spoon instead of chopsticks.<\/span>The laban (boss) of the restaurant lapped us up a heaping bowl of ripe orange winter squash steamed. It is our favorite kind, in its natural state. We\u2019ve made no mistake this time. This is not orange pumpkin sliced and boiled in a tasteless soup, nor is it pureed and sugared and corn starched. It is just a pile of steaming winter squash. We eat in confidence over our decisionless decisions.\u00a0 <\/span>This is fate.\u00a0 <\/span>Great restaurant, great people, great food, great mood, great weather (the sun came out), great Birthday. Everything has gone smoothly and we want to seal it with a date. <\/span><\/p>\n

But curiosity must kill this cat, because the laban, our beloved laban, tells us that it is October 23rd<\/sup>. My Birthday is October 24th.<\/sup><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>I am still 25. Cheers. This is still as old as I wanted to be a year ago. Maybe if we stay in this town long enough, the days will begin to peel back\u00a0like old skin, our memories purified by\u00a0the cloudy mountain sanctuary and the peaceful mountain folk and we will be back to our original selves, naked and raw.\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>25 still am I. The world in reverse. Like a stream of consciousness. How did I end up here riding a bike in a mountain when last year, I was dancing like a cat on a friend\u2019s bar table in Japan, wooing a man to \u201cSatisfaction\u201d by Otis Redding?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Tomorrow, I am running through corn fields with a white dress on. I am 20 and virginal. I write poetry on a swing next to a lake as a beautiful boy with sunshine in his eyes watches from afar. It is sunny, which is good, because I like men. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>This is a dream. Tomorrow it is my birthday. Tomorrow, I think, maybe, it could be, I don\u2019t know, according to the laban, whom we respect because she knows how to cook a pumpkin, it is October 24th<\/sup>.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And I am actually 26. Older than I wanted to be. Tomorrow we camp outside on a rice paddy to celebrate because I want to be rebirthed in the Earth on my birthday.\u00a0 The red sun transitions impalbably into the red moon, and i am confused\u00a0whether\u00a0it\u00a0the sun\u00a0itself or\u00a0if it is its\u00a0reflection that\u00a0brightens the faces around me.\u00a0I need my sunglasses to decipher the colors.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

This is Eden and the sky is leaking its white blood on my brown skin again, wrapping everything in a wedding veil.Everything is about to be consummated.\u00a0 <\/span>Everything is about to become real. Everything is moist. Suddenly, I am very aware that I am grown. Happy Birthday to me.\u00a0.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/code><\/code><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Last year, I told my Japanese students it would be the last year to celebrate my birthday. Next year would be 24 instead of 26. I would start to go in reverse. 25 was the oldest I wanted to be. I’ve never felt so old in my life as right now. I feel my muscles […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-48","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-here-are-posts-related-to-the-whole-group","category-nakias-posts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/48","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=48"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/48\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=48"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=48"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/0708.fueledbyrice.org\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=48"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}