The prince, the princess, and the dragon
PS: I’m just about to go and write up today’s adventures at http://twittertales.wordpress.com and YES we made it to the Great Wall at last.
————
I’m reading, “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” by Donald Miller (the guy who wrote, “Blue Like Jazz”, and who is sort of like the biological biproduct of Anne Lamott, Annie Dillard, and Adrian Plass).
It’s about the structure of a story (an interesting character with a serious problem, who fights to overcome their problem) and how to make your life a more interesting story, based on the idea that we’re hard-wired to enjoy stories with the above structure, because God made us that way. (This theory also explains suffering in a way that works for me better than any other – suffering ultimately makes the story better.)
At one point, the author said that the next level up from basic story structure is an epic story – when the problem is VERY difficult, and involves selfless sacrifice.
When I began to feel I wasn’t meant/able to be a full-time aid worker in Indonesia, it broke my heart. I’d lost the epic story of my life, and I knew it. My substitute story for my life is my writing, but it just doesn’t seem as hard OR as worthwhile to me. Plus, being mentally ill, I suddenly can’t do a lot of things that I used to be able to do.
You all know how the fairy tale goes – the dragon has the princess and the prince rescues her. I used to be the prince (rescuing others), I HATED being the princess (dependent on others; the least interesting and least active character of the three), and I felt that with my mental illness I was slowly turning into the dragon – someone who caused harm to the world instead of good.
I’ve always thought of myself in terms of story. Always. It’s wonderful to hear it set out by Donald Miller, because it gives me permission to look at the way my story is now, and see what I can do to be a hero I really admire.
Maybe 🙂
Five minutes until we head off for attempt #2 at the Great Wall. Should probably brush my teeth 🙂
Chillin’
It’s only 2pm. (Photos now uploaded, and another paragraph at the end.)
Today Beijing has smiled upon us once again, putting on a beautiful blue sky that (except for the snow) makes the city look like spring (and no sign of pollution). It’s colder than yesterday, though – the forecast was -9 to -16. Now THAT’S refreshing. But my feet didn’t get wet, so I was fine. This photo is from yesterday, when it was still snowing:
We planned to go and see the Great Wall, but the train to Badaling (the section we planned to go to) was “a little delayed”. We chose to wait an hour, then give up (we gained no information of any kind in that time – for all we know, the entire stock of Wall-oriented trains had been eaten by yeti).
I just did a super basic google search and discovered this article http://www.globaltimes.cn/www/english/metro-beijing/update/society/2010-01/495913.html saying that, on Sunday, the buses to Badaling were stuck on the expressway for twelve hours because of heavy snow. To me, that indicates that the snow is heavier to the North (which is where rain and snow always come from), and it stands to reason that the high levels of snow also stopped the trains (but will be melted enough to get through by tomorrow).
A pretty building:
At a certain point last night, my initial manic joy suddenly vanished and my mental illness popped back up. It’s always a surprise when I’m having fun and then suddenly want to throw myself out a window. My body isn’t 100% happy with me walking around in the snow, so I decided to look after body and soul and go home. Best of all, I sent the boys off to see the art galleries (I can live without seeing that) and went home – by myself.
Photos my partner took at the galleries:
That was excellent. The boys dropped me at a train station on line 2 (the line that goes to dongsishitian, which is the closest to Bil’s house) and my partner hugged me goodbye in an especially endearing manner (evidently not sure we’d ever meet again). I walked up to the station and was immediately refused entry. The man spoke no English, so it was MY language skills – MINE, I tell you! – that gained me the information that it was closed, but the next station entrance along was fine. I spoke to a Chinese lady (all in Chinese, because I rock) along the way, and double-checked she was heading to the station. She was.
And then I went home, as easily as if I was travelling in Sydney (easier actually, because the trains are better here).
Before that, I came perilously close to successfully ordering a delicious and very cheap and healthy (ish) lunch for the three of us. I established that we wanted chicken, understood the server’s explanation that it was served in bread, and that it was spicy. I was able to say, “We don’t like spicy food” but not strongly enough (I needed to say, “We don’t have spicy food” – a word that I already knew). Bil took over for me, and the meal was very nice.
I now communicate as well in Chinese as I did in Indonesian after five years of studying (at which point I went to live with Indonesians for six months, and became properly fluent). Fundamentally, with the friends I already have here, I could move to Beijing to live, and would be able to get around on my own. Except of course that only REALLY stoic people can survive here.
All the same, I’m sure that once I’m home I’ll miss the gentle Siberian breezes. If only because. . . well, okay, I can’t thing of ANY possible reason to miss Beijing’s wind.
—–a bit later in the day—
We went to the same local Chinese restaurant (as Friday) for dinner, and ate much deliciousness. The taste for today is pumpkin chips (the same size and shape as fish and chip shop ships), battered in egg yolks and fried in something delicious – again, perfectly crisp and buttery. I’m definitely going to attempt to make them when we get home.
One mroe gallery photo, just for fun:
That’s not a Christmas card, THIS is a Christmas card
Yay! Photo o’clock:
It snowed again last night, and it kept snowing all day. The snow is more than a foot deep all over Beijing, and transport has ground largely to a halt (a huge number of taxis simply refused to take any passengers). But it’s not reverse global warming causing the wacky weather – it’s the government’s cloud seeding program (one girl told me there’s a “Winter Wonderland” set up in the olympic stadium, and that’s why snow was considered a good thing). All the snow is covered with tiny sparkles, like glitter scattered throughout. The whole city is hushed under a white blanket.
People are describing it as “fake” snow, which is perfectly accurate – it just happens to be fake snow that falls from the sky and is made of frozen particles of water. Other than the telltale glitter, it was also too powdery – not matter how much fell, it didn’t hang together like snow does. Even in Canberra (where it snows about once a decade), if you can gather a handful you can make a snowball. That was pretty much impossible today.
Nonetheless. . . snow! Great soft drifts of it! Interestingly, none of the roads were snow-ploughed. The thick snow was salted, turning it to a thinner brown sludge, and that was all. The footpaths were tended by sweepers with brush brooms and pieces of cardboard attached to sticks.
My feet got wet around midday when we went to meet some other Australians for lunch, and my boots, socks and feet stayed wet until we came home – just now, at 4am. (Which is why I shan’t be posting photos until tomorrow. Or later.) The temperature varied between -6 and -9 degrees, and I was cold. As we came home, I was shivering the whole way. But I’m fine now, and I hope the new day will bring (a) no more snow (b) a new shot of excitement.
I is dead.
Our main activity today was the relatively gentle one of socialising, most importantly at the Lush bar in the Wudaokou area. The bar has a lot of students (American, Korean, Chinese, South American, British, Australian, Danish and Swiss – at least, those were the ones I met while sitting at my table), and an artsy atmosphere. It is a genuinely warm and welcoming community.
Seeing Bil (Brother In Law) play was incredible. It always is, because he’s an excellent musician – the kind that not only plays well, but has a joyful psychic connection with other members of his band. I think genuine masculinity is about the most wonderful thing in the world (I LIKE men. A lot), and a band with that kind of connection is one of precious few examples of a healthy expression of masculinity. (“Healthy” sounds so unexciting. A better phrase – and I mean this as an observer of truly fine art – is “an utterly attractive expression of masculinity”). My husband also played bass – and sang “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park”. Watching Bil, I felt that he was destined to make his musical home in Lush. He’d already told us it was the highlight of his week. Despite his low (and totally unreliable) income, I am insanely jealous.
Mine is the one on the left:
At around 2am (people from the crowd were still getting up and singing, and every single one could sing), a big guy brought in a guitar, sat down, and began to play – with the quiet smile of someone who has been playing for twenty-five years. He was Korean, and didn’t speak much English OR Chinese – but he made everyone else look like kids with plastic toys. When everyone else stopped playing and begged him to continue alone, he did. When he finished, one of the other performers (an American) said (haltingly) in Korean, “I want to have your babies.”
Everyone in the room did too.
Today’s taste sensation is a toss-up between a cocktail I had there – a mix of vanilla vodka, creme de cacao and chocolate shavings – and a lolly called “Piratos” which was like licorice, but condensed and made salty. (Luckily I was able to get rid of the taste with a margarita. Then I found myself wanting another. Such, perhaps, is the lure of Chinese candy.)
January 4: Chinese Phrases (contains swearing)
January 3: Bind Your Mind
Welcome to your new theme and new story, “The Spy Who Shoved Me”. (The actual tweets will appear late tonight, since my parents are posting them – China doesn’t allow twitter at this time.)
Our hero is Jimmy Bind, the lovechild of James Bond and someone even prettier.
He speaks thirty-two languages fluently (and none of them are Klingon), can shoot a thread through a needle at three hundred paces, and is so handsome 33% of women who observe him on the street faint instantly.
His tools include:
Sleeping gas pen.
Blow-up gum.
Two matchbox cars (including matches and gunpowder)
Piercing blue eyes.
A whole lot of high-quality duct tape (or gaffa, as we call it in Australia).
Oh Nose!
Beijing is not the greatest place to live. It’s bitterly cold in Winter (but almost never snows), and boiling in Summer (apparently it officially never gets up to forty degrees, but sometimes it stays at 39 degrees from early morning to late afternoon. Suspicious? Nah, who on earth would lie about the weather?!) The whole city is filled with dust storms in Spring, and it has the world’s shortest autumns (which are apparently rather nice – almost always). But it’s a really excellent place to visit. A million times nicer than, for example, Jakarta or Port Moresby. And last night – sometime before 6am – it snowed.
We were going to visit a gallery but because the city was being so pretty we went to the Temple of Heaven instead. Beijing still has all its Christmas decorations, so just walking along was like being in a Christmas card. (An incredibly slippery Christmas card, where the wind burns your face until it’s red and painful to touch – despite the fact I STILL didn’t feel uncomfortably cold, and I wore less layers than yesterday.) Beijing is filled with trees (and birds, and incredible ramshackle nests wherever you look), including a lot of silver birches which do look barren, but in a beautiful way.
It’s also worth noting that the public transport is truly excellent (except for the ten minutes we spent on an intensely crowded bus – too crowded to remove our jackets – when the heat and closeness made me feel like throwing up), with an efficient, clean and organised train system. I also love walking around in Beijing, because there are so many unique skyscrapers wherever you look. One of them is called “the underpants building” because it’s roughly in the shape of a person’s legs if they were sitting in a chair with their knees as wide apart as possible (since only the “feet” touch the ground, no-one seems very confident it’ll stay up).
And now to our feature presentation: The Temple of Heaven.
We’re staying in a flat on the sixteenth floor (or at least, roughly the fifteenth, since there’s no 4th or 14th floor – the word “4” sounds like the word for “death” so is often left out). A million people live within a mile of where I’m sitting.
Which made it even more startling when we walked through the West Gate of the Temple of Heaven area and discovered a park-like area of 273 hectares. We spent a lot of time today strolling along stunning avenues (like the one above) lined with snow-covered conifers, birches, and ancient cyprus (some apparently 900 years old, and all of the old ones heritage listed).
The Chinese are really serious about their architecture. It boggles the mind to see such huge structures made with such intricacy. You probably have a fair idea of what a Chinese roof looks like – sweeping tiles with an elegant upward swing on the lowest part. You’d also be able to imagine such a roof dusted with snow as fresh and fine as castor sugar, highlighting each tile with its own layer of white icing. It’s probably not too hard to imagine dragons carved on the corners, or the bold red, gold, blue and green paintings filling the eaves (and often the inside ceiling). But it’s impossible to put it all together unless you walk around and see it for yourself.
We walked South (past the palace of imperial fasting – the emperor didn’t do ANYTHING, including any work, for three days before peforming the annual sacrifice), to the circular altar mound (three massive circular tiers of carved marble, with stairs up – marble stairs, especially after snow, have slightly less traction than the smoothest ice you’ve ever seen) and looked at the beautiful green stone of the nearby altar.
After that we looked at the Imperial Vault of Heaven (effectively, a fancy-pants storeroom; round in shape, and carved and painted absolutely everywhere), which is surrounded by a wall with the fun acoustic property that a whisper from one side can be clearly heard on the other (this of course means that everyone somehow ends up shouting at a wall, which is even more fun to observe). The wall is also covered in ancient graffiti – Chinese characters carved into the stone. That graffiti is also now of historical value.
After that we walked on to the most famous structure, which is the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest. The Hall is set on three circular tiers of stairs (marble, again), and is a round building three storeys high (each with its own rim of roof) that is held together by the carvers’ skill (rather than nails, glue, or anything else).
Long view of the Hall of Good Harvest (note the pillar things on the stair rail on the left; they’re everywhere):
The pillar things on the stairs look similar to this one:
Close view of the Hall of Good Harvest:
We couldn’t go inside these beautiful buildings, but we joined everyone else in looking through the open doorways. Even some of the (many) sets of stairs were blocked off. On one of the sets of stairs the snow lay perfectly still and even – except on the left and right hand side, where cat pawprints were clearly visible ascending and descending. Perhaps one of heaven’s creatures had been inside, after all.
The whole area was full of people, but (except in the most culturally important places) it felt perfectly spacious because it’s so much like a giant park. Ordinary Beijing citizens visit just to hang out – we saw many of them singing, dancing, and playing in a saxophone band. There were far more Chinese tourists than Westerners.
Right now both I and my partner are reading “Faith of our Fathers” by Chan Kei Thong, which is all about the Temple of Heaven. The author has an interesting theory about the ancient religion of the Chinese people. It’s impossible to know anything for certain when the buildings were made in the 14 and 15oos, and the religion itself is far older (and already getting mixed up with dragon-emperor-god stuff when the Temple was build). But it’s certainly interesting.
This is some of the Sacrifice song (you’ll see exactly what the author is getting at, along with far greater scholars, particularly in the 13th to 15th century) used in the temple:
Of old in the beginning, there was the great chaos, without form and dark.
The five planets had not begun to revolve, nor the two lights to shine. In the midst of it there existed neither form nor sound. You, O spiritual Sovereign, came forth in Your sovereignty, and did separate the impure from the pure. You made heaven, You made earth; You made man. All things became alive with reproducing power.
You did produce, O Spirit, the seven elements [the sun and the moon and the five planets]. Their beautiful and brilliant lights lit up the circular sky and square earth.
You have promised, oh Lord, to hear us, for You are our Father. . . With reverence we spread out these gems and silks, and, as swallows rejoicing in the spring, praise Your abundant love.
I don’t know much about the historian’s theory, but I know enough to be intrigued. Unlike the core of many other ancient religions, this God is seen as an invisible creator – not an object.
We obviously spent a lot of time outside today – my nose has been running all day, and hates me now – but I don’t feel particularly cold. I noticed when I looked at some photos my husband took today that my down jacket (which is blue and completely encases me almost to my ankles) makes me look rather like a caterpillar.
My Chinese (and my ability to recognise specific things instead of just being overwhelmed) are coming along so well that Chris and I went grocery shopping by ourselves. We bought milk, orange juice, Chinese lollies, some kind of frozen yum cha-ish meal (for me for my breakfasts), and tissues. None of them were labelled in English – or even pinyin (the form of Chinese that uses Arabic letters and lovely phonetic spelling). Hail the mighty adventurers!
My most frightening moment was when I went to the loo at home and almost forget myself and put the toilet paper in the toilet. That’s NEVER a good idea in Asia – there’s always a bin near the toilet (or no toilet paper usage at all). The plumbing just canna take it, captain. But I remembered myself and did the right thing.
Crisis averted.
We haven’t had dinner yet, but my taste sensation of the day was a red bean smoothie (which also contained honey, vanilla ice cream, and coconut milk). I’m sure red beans are related to lentils (sort of nutty and naturally sweet). The staff (the people in this flat almost never cook, because eating out is so cheap and delicious) served it in SERIOUSLY tall glasses – containing about 750mL – and it was very thick. I still finished it, and gladly. It cost about $3. (Just remembered I’m lactose intolerant. Smeg.)
Plus I had some cool Chinese candy while we walked the temple grounds -they were a little like round prawn crackers sprinkled with icing sugar (with a hint of salt making them even better).
Brushing snow from the dragon’s nose:
PS a couple more details and several more photos are located at http://twittertales.wordpress.com
The Spy Who Shoved Me: The Scenic Tour
“The Spy Who Shoved Me” doesn’t start until tomorrow, but it’s (mostly) set in China, which is (coincidentally) where I am right now. My partner and I are visiting my brother-in-law who is living in Beijing because of its thriving music scene.
I’m blogging in detail at https://felicitybloomfield.wordpress.com and I try to make it entertaining. Beijing is bitterly cold, but it snowed last night. We visited the Temple of Heaven today, which is inside an enormous park-like area.
To put the scale a little into perspective – the building at the end of this avenue is not a building, but just one of many gates between different areas within the “park”.
Here’s some roof detail (from a mere storeroom) – and no, I don’t know what the wire is for:
Some ceiling detail (from the Vault of Heaven – another store room):
Beijing is very polluted it’s true, and the weather is almost always hideous – but it’s a beautiful city, and strangely peaceful.
Ballgowns, Beijing, and Boots
So my husband and I are in Beijing.
I weigh too much now to fit any of my jeans, so I bought thermal and tracksuit pants before I left – but wore a massive velvet ankle-length ballgown my friend made me (years ago) for travelling. It worked great, even if it does make me look like a weirdo (if the shoe fits. . .). I also wore my boots, which I’ve had for years and which have been visibly dying this year – which made them perfect for Beijing, because it means I have warm footwear for a week, and can then throw them away when we go to Indonesia. Unfortunately the plan backfired when EACH boot had a catastrophic fail en route. Oh well. They’re holding together again now, and I’m optimistic.
The two things that most frightened me were: travelling (especially yesterday, with a twenty-hour journey, and more than half of it spent in one flight ie trapped with strangers – scary), and the cold (the average temperature at this time of year is between 0 and minus ten – I just asked the American guy beside me what it was, and he said, “Between mind-numbing and death”).
The travel was relatively okay – travelling with my husband dampens my panic by heaps. On our second flight, the guy in front of me had his seat fully reclined before the plane was even loaded. I hated him, his stupid big head, and his stupid toilet-brush hair. The flight attendant made him lift it back up when she was handing out drinks. Later, I was trying to sleep hunched over on my food tray when he suddenly went back again, almost trapping me between the tray and his stupid chair. I didn’t do anything violent (always an important plus), but cried like a girl.
When we did get to sleep in a real bed in Beijing, I was so exhausted (and light-headed, since it had been about ten hours since dinner) that it felt as if the room was swaying.
All good now though – that was our biggest travel day for this whole trip.
Oh! And we saw fireworks going off from the plane.
At Beijing airport, we witnessed the wacky sense of humour of the locals when our plane let us out-out. That is to say, outside. At midnight. With our big coats, naturally, still zipped up in our checked-in luggage (on its way to the distant terminal). Happy New Year.
It was great! We had scarves, jumpers, gloves (two pairs for me) and beanies with us, which turned out to be enough for a short slab of time outside. So that was the worst of my fears dealt with.
Today we spent quite a bit of time wandering around the local area (this time with borrowed coats made of down, which are BRILLIANT), and it was honestly fun – cozy, even (because the down jackets are SO warm). I did feel a teensy bit like my eyeballs were frosting over, but what’s a loose eyeball on such a nice day?
In an hour or so we’re going to a gig (my brother in law is a musician living here, which is why we came to Beijing).
In 2004 I studied double Mandarin at the Australian National University.
The instant we entered Sydney airport and joined a bunch of Chinese people in line, my Chinese language came flooding back (and, in places, expanding). It feels entirely superhuman to go from a cautious “hello” to “Oh, he’s my husband, that’s my brother in law, and I really like Beijing thanks. Please may I have two orange juices and some bread” in 24 hours. Being superhuman is a nice feeling. I’ll probably have a vocab of several hundred by the time we leave (in less than ten days).
I’m writing this from my brother in law’s sharehouse/flat, so I should be able to blog quite regularly.
We also ate (of COURSE) Chinese food. Everything we ordered was deep-fried (including the beans, which were wonderfully buttery and crunchy) and I am in loooove.
Daylight final day: full story
2 Oct
EMO used to stand for ‘emotional’ – the teen subgroup that’s only happy to be sad. Now it’s become a disease eerily similar to vampirism.
*
My name’s Bell. I considered being EMO once, but then I saw a pretty butterfly and got over myself. Got bored and decided to save the world.
*
This is the documentary tale of the brave few fighting to find a cure for EMO (or, failing that, a quick and easy way to kill all those vampires dead).
3 Oct
In Civic, Ed kissed me and sighed. “Oh, Bell. Cloudy days are so deep.”
“Oh no!” I cried. “Ed, tell me you haven’t been bitten by an EMO!”
*
He didn’t laugh once at our preview of “Saw VI”. I yanked him into a rare patch of sun – and he sparkled. My boyfriend had turned EMO!
*
Finally he confessed: “My mum bit me.”
“Your MUM!?”
He sighed, “Sad, I know.”
“Do you want to drink my blood now?”
“Er. . . no,” he lied.
4 Oct
On the news: “The EMO subculture has now become a pandemic. EMO teens can be recognised by their depression, dark clothes, and bad poetry.”
*
I walked in the yard just as Mum set some weeds on fire. “Mum,” I said through the smoke, “Ed’s EMO.”
“That’s nice dear.”
*
My name’s pretty bad, but my brother is Pi. He’s ten and wears a labcoat. I told him, “Ed’s EMO.”
“Hm. Can I do experiments on him?”
“NO!”
5 Oct
“Ed, it’s the holidays. Don’t you feel a LITTLE happy?”
“No,” he said. “Bell, would it be okay if I drank you – just a little?”
“NO!”
*
“Exodermal Melanin Occlusion is spreading fast,” the news said. “Symptoms now include sparkling in sunshine, darkening hair, and whining.”
*
Ed tried to bite me, and I tripped over another EMO as I dodged him. Bruised my knees. Still not EMO, despite my black hair and long fringe.
6 Oct
Still not EMO, despite drenching rain. All the EMOs are thrilled they’re not sparkling today (Ed almost smiled). Bring back the sun!
*
“Cheer up,” said Mum, “I’ve decided to have a wedding.”
“But. . . you’re married.”
“Don’t spoil it. It’s exactly what all those EMOs need.”
7 Oct
I was dying my hair when Ed called. “Want to play EMO baseball with my family?”
“No.”
He cried until I hung up.
My hair turned green. Oops.
8 Oct
Pi asked me for Ed’s old hairbrush, so I humoured him and brought it. He said, “Bell, I think there might be a cure for EMOs!”
*
Still not EMO, although Ed keeps trying to bite me. Awkward!
9 Oct
Mum said, “Don’t you just love weddings?”
“Does Dad even know?”
“Hush,” said Mum.
Our shopgirl wept quietly as she pinned Mum’s dress.
10 Oct
“Do you think a wedding could cure EMOs?” I asked.
Pi snorted and said, “Has Ed bitten you at all?”
“No, we just make out.”
Pi looked ill.
11 Oct
I saw Dad writing a journal and looking mournful. Uh-oh. Still not EMO myself, despite blood-starved boyfriend and lime green hair.
*
“Don’t let ANYONE drink your blood,” said the news. “Authorities recommend hitting EMOs with cricket bats. Stay alert, not alarmed.”
12 Oct
Ed wore an overcoat and hat to school. Our teachers freaked and put him in detention. I think he bit Mr Joh, the science teacher. Awkward!
*
Ed and I wandered the mall and saw heaps of decorations. Ed sighed, “Christmas is so deep. It makes me feel all –”
“Sad?”
“How’d you know?”
13 Oct
Mr Joh burst into tears while telling us about the reproductive cycle of fruit flies. Ed gave him tissues. This EMO pandemic is so wrong.
14 Oct
Maths class was full of sighs and weeping. (Life hasn’t changed much.) I was put on detention for being insensitive about life’s deep pain.
*
The principal ran detention. He looked thirsty. I shrank in my seat. “Tomorrow,” he told me, “come to my office. Bring your school spirit.”
15 Oct
I brought my school spirit and a cricket bat. The principal grabbed my arm but I whacked him and dived under his desk until the bell rang.
*
Still not EMO, despite listening to principal discuss philosophy for the entire lunch hour. Thank you, cricket bat, thank you.
16 Oct
Ed took me to a graveyard for a date. It was crowded. He licked me on the neck, and I kneed him in the groin. “Don’t you love me?” he wept.
*
Still not EMO, despite kneeing EMO boyfriend in the groin. Actually, that was pretty fun.
17 Oct
I said to Pi, “You know how you wanted to experiment on Ed? Go for it.”
“Thank you thank you!”
It was great to see his childish joy.
18 Oct
Ed called and said, “My Mum wants to know how you got that lovely green in your hair.”
“Well, I –”
“Oh, what’s the point?!” he cried.
*
Pi and I snuck over, gagged Ed, and dragged him home. He sparkled all the way. We locked him in the spare room with a saucer of rat’s blood.
Still not EMO, despite Ed’s slurping of his rat blood. He always was a messy eater. Now he stinks too (he owns only one all-black outfit).
19 Oct
Still not EMO, despite Dad cornering me in the laundry to lecture me on the meaninglessness of his existence. Hope we find a cure.
20 Oct
Caught Pi measuring Ed’s fringe. “When do you start experimenting on him?” I asked.
He said, “Soon. I’m gathering data.”
Still not EMO.
*
Pi said, “Should we ungag Ed? Mum and Dad are fine with him being here.”
“No,” I said, “If we did that, he might start talking again.”
21 Oct
Is being obsessed with Ed’s hair a symptom of EMO? Pi was measured it AGAIN. I wish he’d go into the sunshine so I could see if he sparkles.
22 Oct
“Eureka!” Pi yelled from the EMO room. I ran in. Pi brandished his clipboard. “EMO makes your fringe grow!”
“How is that useful exactly?”
*
Still not EMO, even though my boyfriend has better hair than me. On the up side, Pi stood in sunlight for me – no sparkles. Unlike Dad.
23 Oct
“Oh,” Dad sighed, “weddings always make me cry.”
“No they don’t! You always laugh at the priest wearing a dress. Won’t that be fun?”
“No.”
24 Oct
I felt mean and gave Ed his ipod and speaker. He played “Bleeding Love” for twelve hours. Still not EMO, though after that I do want to cry.
25 Oct
Ed’s Mum rang. I said, “Erm. . . Did you want Ed back?”
She sighed and said, “I don’t deserve him. You keep him.”
“Thanks. Thanks SO much.”
26 Oct
Came home from school to find Pi wrestling Ed. They broke apart and looked at me guiltily. “Ed! No biting!” I said.
“Who me?” he said.
*
Dobbed on Pi, but Mum wasn’t concerned. “Healthy exercise is just what EMOs need. What do you think about a red colour scheme?”
“Mu-um!”
27 Oct
Found Ed pinned helplessly under Pi’s ten-year old foot. “This gets easier by the day!” said Pi.
I said, “We already KNEW EMOs were weak.”
Still not EMO, despite my boyfriend getting regularly beaten up by my nerdy little brother. Dad said red is a very emotional colour. Great.
28 Oct
Mr Joh said life is a meaningless series of unconnected events, so there’s no point studying. Finally this pandemic has an up side!
29 Oct
Pi enjoyed demonstrating his ability to restrain Ed with a single finger.
Mum and Dad’s wedding is set for thirty November.
Still not EMO.
30 October
Mum said, “Be my bridesmaid.”
“Sure – but won’t it be hard to keep your guests from biting one another – enclosed spaces, and all that?”
31 Oct
Finally a weekend! No more sightings of Mr Joh and the principal sharing a tissue box. No more in-class essays on HOW I FEEL. Just Ed. D’oh!
1 November
“Can you believe it’s my wedding month already?” trilled Mum.
Dad and I exchanged a glance of woe. I caught myself and checked for sparkles.
*
Still not EMO. How can my hair be so green without falling out? Maybe I’ve become an anti-EMO. If only I could believe that.
2 Nov
Someone with a hand-drawn Red Cross badge came looking for donations today. I’m pretty sure they don’t usually collect blood door-to-door.
3 Nov
The art teacher made us draw self-portraits. Most of the class mixed their paint with real tears. Went home and bashed head against wall.
4 Nov
The newsreader said, “Our alert has been raised to red – a deep, emotional red. You may as well get bitten. What does it matter anyway?”
5 Nov
All TV cancelled in favour of OC re-runs. Pi and I sat watching Ed cry for two hours. His fringe grew visibly. Still not EMO (pretty sure).
6 Nov
Spent our date night feeding Ed different types of animal blood. He likes dog best. I chose not to ask where Pi got it from. Dad likes cat.
7 Nov
Ed played “Bleeding Love” until I smashed his ipod speaker. He said I was unsupportive and tried to bite me. I’ve got to stay alert!
8 Nov
Decided to confirm Pi’s previous experiment, and challenged Ed to fisticuffs. Beat him easily every time. Science is fun.
9 Nov
I asked the school counsellor for advice on helping friends with EMO-related depression.
“It’s not depression,” she said, “It’s TRUTH.”
10 Nov
For English, Miss Winter read “Wuthering Heights”. It was impossible to understand, because she was sobbing so hard.
Still not EMO.
11 Nov
Our French teacher lectured us today on the deep sadness of all European nations. Luckily, she did most of it in French.
Still not EMO.
12 Nov
In History, Mr Theo told us the World Wars were largely pointless. And so was the Industrial Revolution. And everything else.
Still not EMO.
13 Nov
The principal interrupted maths to bite most of the front row. When the sun shone in the window, the sparkles were blinding.
Still not EMO.
14 Nov
Ed said if I loved him I’d let him bite me. He was too weak to try, but I kicked him in the groin anyway. Suddenly my week got better.
15 Nov
Mum hung out washing and my heart stopped. She was sparkling.
“Mum! You’re EMO!” I cried.
She said, “Nonsense. Look again.”
She was fine.
*
“Pi, I swear she was sparkling one moment and not sparkling the next.”
“Impossible,” he said.
I said, “You’re right. It must be the stress.”
16 Nov
“Two weeks to the wedding!” Mum yelled, waking me.
At least I could be certain she wasn’t EMO. Dad drew sad smileys on the invitations.
17 Nov
Mum picked fresh tomatoes for our dinner, and once again I could have sworn she was sparkling. But when I blinked, she wasn’t. Weird.
18 Nov
“Bell! Bell!” said Pi.
I said, “What?”
“You were right! Mum has a natural immunity.”
“Fantastic.”
“I know. We have to clone her!”
“Pardon?”
19 Nov
“I have to what now?” I asked Pi.
He said, “Just ask Dad how often he bites Mum.”
“But –”
“We need to know. And I’m WAY too young to ask.”
*
Still not EMO, despite finding out Dad gives Mum hickies “every day or two”. I certainly FEEL sick. But will their grossness save the world?
20 Nov
I helped Pi get his cloning machine out of the shed. “And you DIDN’T win the science prize for this?”
He shrugged and said, “Nah. Volcanos.”
21 Nov
I got Mum to agree that she wished there were two of her doing all that wedding prep. She sat in Pi’s cloning machine and BOOM! Two Mums.
*
Still not EMO, despite suddenly copping twice as much wedding talk. I wish we could cure EMOs without actually talking to people.
22 Nov
Mum2 refused to get bitten. “Clones are people too. We have rights.”
“We?” said Pi.
That’s when Mum2 introduced Mum3, Mum4 and Mum5.
23 Nov
“Bell,” said Mum, “don’t be upset, but I’m going to be my own bridal party. Won’t it be fun?”
“Are ANY of you EMO yet?”
“Just your fathers.”
24 Nov
Ed’s coming to the wedding, because “it’ll be SUPER deep.” Tissue prices are rising. Still not EMO, despite getting shafted as bridesmaid.
25 Nov
Mum spent an hour crying due to Mum3 fitting her wedding dress better. I definitely saw sparkles. Then she went for a walk and got better.
26 Nov
Dad’s hair was already darkening because of EMO. He dyed it black for the wedding. His fringe is nearly chin-length. Still not EMO.
*
Pi crept into my room at night with a handful of syringes. “We need their blood! The Mums. Any one will do.”
I’m not sure he’s coping.
27 Nov
Tried to corner Mum5 but she just laughed at me. “I know a million more tricks than you, sweetheart!”
Still not EMO, despite my ten parents.
28 Nov
Pi yelled, “Bell! Mum3 is sparkling. We can grab her while she’s EMO and weak!
I ran out, but by the time we reached her Mum3 was fine.
*
Still not EMO, despite a clone of my Mum giving me a smack for being disrespectful. I hate it when that happens.
29 Nov
Tried to reason with the Mums. Big mistake. They were far too busy experimenting with hairstyles to want to hear how to save humanity.
*
Still not EMO, despite ten parents alternately telling me to (1) cheer up or (2) stop being so shallow now the wedding’s tomorrow. Bite me.
30
Dad avoided a ray of stained-glass sunlight. All the Mums glowed, and Mum3 sparkled. Mum walked down the aisle with a huge smile. . .
*
. . . and was tackled by Mum2. “This moment belongs to ME!” screamed Mum4, and jumped on top. Mum5 weighed in. Mum3 bit Mum5 on the leg.
*
I comforted Mum, saying the wedding was certainly lively. She passed me a full syringe. “I drew blood from Mum2 after Mum4 knocked her out.”
1 Dec
It was a relief to be back at school, even with Mr Joh’s sudden fascination with every Tim Burton movie ever made. Still not EMO.
2 Dec
Pi woke me, yelling, “It’s aliiiiive!”
“What?” “Mum2’s blood. I got Dad to drink a bit, and now the rest’s gone EMO.”
I went back to sleep.
*
Still not EMO, despite little brother developing his muttering skills suddenly. Poor Pi. He might not be EMO, but he’s also not. . . right.
3 Dec
Awoke with horrible thought and went to Pi. “You said Dad drank some of the blood sample. So his BACKWASH turned it EMO?”
“Yep. Ed’s, too.”
*
Still not EMO, despite beginning to wonder if blood tastes good. Ed says it’s like milo combined with tabasco sauce. I need to get out more.
4 Dec
The 7pm Project began with ten minutes of solemn reflection (Dave cried, then bit Carrie). Marge Simpson now wears black. I’m still not EMO.
5 Dec
Pi followed Mum around with Mum2’s blood vial clutched in his free hand. By the end of the day, the blood was dried, smelly – and un-EMO.
*
Still not EMO, though Pi won’t stop coming up with ever-weirder theories about Mum’s self-curing ability. He dissected our guinea pig, too.
6 Dec
Pi stumbled in holding his neck. Blood leaked through his fingers. As he fainted, he whispered, “It’s Mum’s behaviour, Bell, not her blood.”
*
“Please, Pi, try to focus. What did you mean it’s Mum’s behaviour? What is it she does that’s so different?” He shrugged, “Who cares?”
*
Still not EMO. My poor brother. . . Dad bit humanity’s best hope of recovery. Wait a sec. . . AM I EMO? That was practically poetry! Oh no!
7 Dec
Wandered the mall searching for anyone who wasn’t sparkling. I was all alone. Six Santas sat in a gutter, weeping and tolling their bells.
8 Dec
Got chased by three sad elves. Weird and frightening. Began disguising myself with dark clothes and morose expression. Green hair unhelpful.
9 Dec
“We’re thirsty,” said the newsreader. “We’re coming to find you, and we’ll drink to your health with your own sweet delicious blood!”
10 Dec
Pi came into my room. “You’re one of us, aren’t you Bell? You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”
Ed and four Dads shadowed him. I ran.
11 Dec
Found Mum at her work. She wasn’t sparkly. “How do you do it?” I begged. She said, “A good heart and plenty of fresh air, that’s how!”
12 Dec
Dreamed I was EMO. I walked into the sun and sparkled like fire – then I blew up! It was VERY sad. When I woke up, I knew what to do.
13 Dec
I crept into Pi’s room at night and dragged him into our old treehouse. He didn’t like his gag – or being tied onto the roof.
Then I waited.
14 Dec
Still not EMO, despite hiding in a treehouse and forcing my EMO brother to sparkle for over twelve hours.
Have I made a horrible mistake?
15 Dec
Pi thrashed in his bonds, attracting Ed and the Dads. They said, “Come down, Bell, we’re thirsty.”
Still not EMO – but for how long?
16 Dec
Spent the night listening to Pi moan and the Dads discuss whether I’d taste more like chilli sauce or peppermint chocolate when they ate me.
*
As the sun rose, the EMOs left to huddle inside. I saw their eyes, watching me. Watching my blood-flushed face. Getting ever thirstier.
*
I said, “You’ll have to climb up here. And what’s the point? What does it really mean?”
They discussed it, and I bought myself one more day.
17 Dec
“Bell?”
“Pi?”
“Bell!”
“Pi!”
“You saved me!”
I felt my eyes prick with tears. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Pi. Now we have to get out of here.”
*
We broke pieces off the treehouse and Whap! Bang! bashed those EMOs until they let us go. Running down the street, we laughed for joy.
*
“The cure is sunshine,” I explained to Pi.
He said, “Of course! The sparkling is caused by the mutated melanin escaping from the system.”
*
18 Dec
We stole cricket bats and attacked the school. Once we had the principal tied to the roof, the rest of the school toppled like dominoes.
*
“Job well done,” I said to Pi. We walked away whistling.
Mr Joh called faintly, “You’re both on detention! I’ll get you!”
19 Dec
“Should I check on the school?” Pi asked.
I said, “Nah. Once they’re cured they’ll be strong enough to untie themselves. Almost definitely.”
20 Dec
We found Mum in church, basking in the stained-glass light as her sparkles faded again. “Will you help us save the world?”
“Okay,” she said.
21 Dec
The Mums enjoyed tying the Dads to the treehouse roof a little too much.
Pi and I weren’t EMO, but we certainly felt wrong inside.
*
The three of us stormed Parliament House. I might have accidentally broken the Prime Minister’s nose (a little). Awkward!
22 Dec
Dad almost fooled us into untying him from the roof. He claimed he hadn’t finished buying our Christmas presents. Diabolical EMO tricks!
23 Dec
Dad’s probably recovered, but we left him there for safety’s sake. Mum and Pi and I took over Win News and wrote our own bulletin.
*
“We have thought-provoking news,” I read. “Excessive sunbathing causes cancer, which is VERY sad. Don’t go outside, whatever you do!”
24 Dec
We took Dad to the shops to tie a few Santas to the roof and treat ourselves to a little looting. We felt we’d all earned it.
*
Counted more than fifty EMO sunbathers on the way home. Our cunning plan is working! Soooo many sparkles.
25 Dec
“Sunny day,” Dad smiled.
I unwrapped my present. “Oh Dad, you shouldn’t have! A brand new cricket bat. Thanks!”
“I got one for each of us.”
*
The EMOs came at Christmas lunch. Somehow, they knew we’d tricked everyone. They battered at the windows and scratched at the doors. Oh no!
*
The clone parents charged with bats held high – sacrificing themselves to save us. We escaped while the EMOs had THEIR Christmas lunch.
26 Dec
Mum, Dad, Pi and I hid on Mount Stromlo. The Mums found us – Mums always know where to look. Mum3 dragged me off while the others fought.
*
“It’s polite to share,” Mum3 smirked. She locked me in our basement and said, “We’ll ALL see you soon. . . sweet, delicious heart.”
27 Dec
Still not EMO, despite being locked in basement by evil clone. I hate it when that happens. Discouraged the EMOs briefly by singing carols.
28 Dec
They begged me to stop singing. I negotiated a deal for three hundred chocolate-filled advent calendars. One last cunning plan. . .
29 Dec
Ate three advent calendars’ worth of chocolate before remembering I had a plan. Too bad my mouth was full. The EMOs closed in.
*
I pelted the EMOs with sweet delicious chocolate. Their mouths were hanging open for my blood, so I got the chocolate in. But no effect!
*
“Happy New Year!” I screamed. While they contemplated their 2010 life goals I ran to Mum’s sunroom and superglued my face to the window.
30 Dec
I awoke with a blood-soaked neck. Still not EMO. . . oh wait, yes I am. Finally I understand that everything sucks. Still glued to window.
*
The sun climbed the sky. Sparkles danced across my skin like annoying little angels of joy. Bleaugh! Stupid Christmas! Stupid glue!
*
The sparkles ended, and I felt hungry for leftover Turkey instead of blood. I’m not EMO any more, hurray! Now if I could just unglue myself.
31 Dec
“Sticky situation?” Mum giggled, waking me.
I said, “Shut up and unglue me.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Bite me.”
She sighed and unglued me.
*
Pi and Dad were fine too. “The army’s here,” said Pi, “and they’re using mirrors to reflect and multiply sunlight, 24-7. It’s over. We won!”
*
We toasted Pi and ate Christmas leftovers for New Year’s Eve. Ed joined us – happily. I just wish Mum would give back the cloning machine.
THE END
3am blogging. . .
. . . is never good.
Since the partner and I left Canberra on Christmas Eve, I’ve had a headache more often than not (which I now realise is due to my current contraceptive pill, since I had the same four-day headache last month), I’ve spent a lot of time light-headed and dizzy (walkin iz hard), and on the eve of our departure I had. . . food poisoning.
I think the dizziness is because of taking anti-depressents last week (but not at the moment – I try to travel in such a way that all I have to think about is food and shelter), and the food poisoning is from drinking Sydney milk (which, clearly, I won’t be consuming in China or Indonesia).
So here’s hoping it gets easier from here. And that I can get my last three precious hours of sleep.
Felicity Banks 