Ji hao de - Perfect

September 12^th, 2007

I've spent two weeks here now; a total of eight days. I've had the chance now to feel out the characters that fill this house and have tried to find a way for mine to work with theirs. There's a two fold bridge to cross here; the bridge between student and teacher and the bridge over the language gap that you'll find anywhere in China. These bridges are always there with this kind of job, but Carina has made it her own. She's personalized the problem, adding her idiosyncrasies into the mix. She's not a hard nut to crack. I understand her and her position. She's a twelve year old girl with a lot on her plate, with very little time to herself beyond the two or three hours crammed in after meals. She's also the daughter of a wealthy Chinese man, and is accustomed to getting what she wants. She's not only a rich kid, but she's also a girl, and girls have different expectations here. It's not usual to push them too hard when they protest.

In China, it is unlucky to have a girl, as a boy can bring more to the family; he can bring in money to support the family with plentiful work and he can expand the family by bringing a woman into his bed and furthering the family name. A woman, on the other hand, is not expected to do meaningful or well paying work and is only expected to work until she finds a husband, at which point she leaves the family. She does not add to her family; she adds to his. The woman will always be close to the family, and her grandmother will often raise her children, but it's the general view that a daughter cannot provide as much as a son can.

If China had the technology, they'd offer gender selection in pregnancies, and the gender ratios would topple to one side.

Mr. Ma has five daughters. I don't know how he views this or what response he's gotten from his colleagues and friends. I do know that he pushes all of his girls to do well. His eldest daughter went to America and speaks English like a native. His youngest, he is determined to make into a tennis champion.

Mr. Ma pushes his daughters more than most that I've seen in China, but she's still his little girl, and when she puts up too much of a fuss, the general understanding is to let her win. I haven't done that. I have disciplined Carina twice now in these two weeks for the same reason. When she doesn't want to do something, she'll stop speaking in any language at all and start whining and screaming, stomping and glaring. At this point, I can't discern what the problem is and can therefore not fix a thing. When I talk to her at this point, she'll completely ignore me and refuse to respond. This is the definition of rude. If she doesn't want to do the work because it's too hard, or because she doesn't understand or because she's too tired or bored, she needs to tell me. I don't care what the reason is as long as she opens her mouth to communicates with me. After all, it's not filling in answers on a sheet of paper that will really help her improve her English, but rather testing out her English while trying to express herself.

Each time she did this, I took something away that she liked. The first time, I took away the movies and told her that when she wanted to apologize I'd give her one back, which I did. This time I took away all the mp3 players and told her when she wanted to do the work with me, I'd give her one and when she apologized, I'd give her the other.

I have given her one.

Today in class, she attempted not to speak at all and wouldn't respond when I explained to her why I took the mp3 players away and what she had to do to get them back, so I started the class anyway. At first, we answered questions by having her point at the right answer and shaking her head “yes” or “no”. Soon, she was reading the one word answers out loud and before she knew it, she was reading the whole poem and answering in full sentences. I think she caught herself in the end because she stopped talking again. It's an hour and a half class, and after one hour, she was getting tired and realized that she had been having fun talking with me and that she had forgotten all about the silent treatment. I thanked her for working with me on the poems and gave her one mp3 player, telling her that while I'm sad that she clammed up again, I was happy that she worked with me and told her how well she did.

“It's perfect! You don't want to learn, but you're doing a great job.” She smiled and rolled over, hiding her face in the blanket.

She still wouldn't talk to me for a while, so I'd circle a question and read it to her . “Here, answer this one.” Then I'd walk away, and wait for her to roll over and write the answer so I could correct it and circle the next question. Despite the fact that she wasn't speaking, there was a weird kind of communication going on, an agreement that we'd keep doing the work as long as I gave her the time to warm back up to me and open up her mouth on her own accord. Soon enough, she was reading those questions out loud too and we ended the class with her reading the finished poem to me. She was in a good mood and hung around after class to doodle in my book in English. On the front page, it now says in red ink:

My name is Sienna.

And below that it says

Perfect

The truth is that she wants to learn. She's uncomfortable because she's behind and doesn't know how to express herself and Erica can speak so much better than her. The competition often helps, but it also puts her in a pugnacious mood. When Erica isn't in class, Carina is okay with going slower, which might be a good thing as I can notice easier what parts she doesn't really understand, and she might not react as badly to not knowing the answer when there's not a friend around to witness and judge her mistakes. She needs to learn that it's okay to have the wrong answer as long as she wants to learn the right one.

If this goes the right way, I just might start to really enjoy this. For now, it's not half bad, and it certainly gives me something to write about. I understand that many teachers have come and gone here because they couldn't handle Carina. It's too bad that they didn't give her a chance. She's a handful, but she's just a kid and she needs a chance to learn. It will be difficult for me to motivate her and push her without turning her off, but it's something I'll have to learn. That is my job, after all.

Erica's Cross

Strange new discovery. Today Erica turned in her homework for what she wanted to be when she grows up. It was supposed to be written in rhyme, but it was their first homework assignment and rhyming is new to them, so it will take time.

I was expecting a lot of things; I expected her to talk about tennis and animating and I expected it to be pretty well written, but I did not expect to see The Cross in her work. This was her entry.

When I grow up I will be a famous tennis player. And at USOPEN, Wimbledon, I'll get a championship. When I'm rich I will be an animator. I will make great movies that story is in Bible. That movies will convey a gospel. And many people will obey god. (there is a crown drawn over “god”)

When I get older, I will buy a house. Like king's palace (same crown is over king)

And I'll live there happily.

(Is my dream is too Big :-D )

A lot of the words Erica and Carina used in their homework I don't think they knew beforehand. Carina admitted to using a dictionary to find her words, but that being so, it still means that they both knew the meaning in their native language before they consulted the translating dictionary. I mention this because of the use of the word “Obey”.

I knew Erica was religious because she wears a little gold cross on a necklace which is very rare in China. Someone may or may not be religious, but they never go around showing it off. I wondered if she knew about China's stance on religion, and if she did, I can't help but respect the courage. I'm sure she's alone at school, as some of them must point it out and pepper her with questions. Possibly even teachers ridicule her for wearing it.

I didn't think god would come into topic in a class assignment though, and that it did, shows just how much of her life is pervaded with the notion of God. I'm used to seeing children and adults adorned in religious jewelry and attending ceremonies simply because it is the way of their family. It's not so much their necklace, but the one their mother makes them wear and that they've had on for so many years they've forgotten that it was there. I thought this was possible with Erica, but that does not lead to one brining up God unaided.

I asked her to tell me what she wanted to be when she grew up, not what she thought about the Gospel, and she has no reason to believe that I'm religious, so I doubt she'd be pandering.

It was the use of the word “obey” that really caught me though. I could imagine a child using the word “love”: “everyone will love god”, but obey? It sounds like a much older, strict little woman is in there; a woman who is somehow angry that not everyone obeys her god.

I think what throws me off about it the most is that I find myself looking at her differently. The majority of people you meet in America are religious in some way or another and it never makes me really think twice, but rarely are they children, and rarely are they on their own. I guess not seeing a parent dragging her along her religious journey is putting me off a bit. This girl is on her own in a way. She's not working and paying her own bills, but no one is raising her anymore. There's the Ayi and there's the other girls she lives with to help shape her ideals, but there is no child rearing here. I suppose 12 isn't too early for all that, but I would think that the ideals our parents try to instill in us are still independent of us and are apt to wane when we're on our own so early.

It's possible that my time in China has effected me on this topic. I'm no longer used to people talking about religion in the open and the only time it is brought up is either in theory or in whispers. You have to be careful about religion here. I've never once seen someone persecuted or arrested or anything of the sort for their religion, and none of my foreign friends have seen actions that would give reason for our hushed conversations, but the knowledge is there through fact and advice: do not publicize your religion. You are allowed to believe anything you want as long as you do it in your own home and do not attempt to convert people. China does, however, promote the idea that it's better to not have any religious belief at all.

I've met a few Christians on this side of the planet, and each time I have, it's put me off a bit. My old boss was religious, though newly so. He held Christian meetings at his English school every Sunday and had asked me if I wanted to join. Holding religious meetings of any kind in a business establishment is against the rules and I'm sure if the authorities found out, his school would be closed down, but I didn't mention anything. I did, however, try to bow out as unnoticed as possible when I came by the school during one of these meetings to pick up my pay.

There were many foreigners there, foreigners I had never seen before, and I couldn't curb the instinct to run. An American Christian holding out their hand to greet you is holding out their hand to bring you in as well, and I wanted nothing of it. I avoid Christians I think, and if my friends or colleagues happen to be Christian, I avoid the topic.

These were typical looking American Christians: placid white skin with touches of aggravated pink splotches from the China sun, bright blond hair that verged on white, round squishy bodies adorned with bright flowery shirts and skirts, under bright speckled faces with big toothy smiles. I have a distinct memory of the tall older man getting up to greet me. As I was walking by, he looked at me and his eyes locked on. He continued to talk to his wife for a moment while not loosing track of me then stood up and honed in. I don't think he even handled the niceties of ending the conversation with his wife first. With his head down and his hand out, he came up to me and reached for a hand. I wanted to resist, but there was his hand, seeking mine out, and if I didn't take it I'd have to feign a psychological predisposition against hand shaking or I'd effectively be logged in as atheist and they'd start their converting post haste.

The way he looked at me, with his head down, made me feel like I had just been locked in and I too felt like I couldn't look away. He had caught me in a net and was dragging me in squirming. His introduction didn't seem casual at all, but intent and purposeful. I was a potential notch on the Christian tally, and he wanted to bring me in himself. He mentioned that he hadn't seen me before and I told him I wasn't there for the meeting, I was just grabbing my check because I worked at the school. “Oh.” His face slackened and I felt like he was inspecting me suspiciously. He still had my hand. Maybe he wasn't going to let go. There was a good chance he wanted to keep talking.

“I didn't know Joshua was holding this meeting. I'll remember for next Sunday, but I have to go. I'm late.”

At that, he shook my hand again (it had sat sill and tacky in his hand since he had grabbed it, not moving or shaking my hand at all, but simply holding it, keeping me there), then he smiled at me with a warm welcoming air of which you see when two old friends meet and then, finally, he let go. I had to stop myself from sighing and quickly went on my way.

Only half of what I had said to him was a lie. I did indeed remember it for next Sunday and every Sunday afterwards when I'd avoid that school like the plague. The lie was that I had been busy. I had all the time in the world that day, but alas, fate would have it that I'm allergic to Christian socials.

I might be a little jagged on the subject of Christians. Maybe I've just met too many of them.

I'd hate to look at Erica differently just because she's religious though. I suppose you look at someone differently each time you learn something new about them, but I don't have enough information to judge on this topic. I think if it didn't involve the Christian Cross and the Gospels I'd be less ill disposed about it.

She's such an odd child. She's twelve years old and speaks Korean, Chinese and English. She spent two years I think in Sweden attending an English language school and is now devoting nearly every waking hour to becoming a tennis champion. When I take a step back and look at it, that all fits nicely with a Christian upbringing, but it fits so much better without one. How many tennis players have I met that were Christian? How many of them just loved the socials and pink party dresses? It is the type.

She wants to be an animator. She excels in school and language and is determined and hard working. I think I respect her. I sympathize for what I have in common with her and envy her for her better start and clear mind. I don't want her to be Christian, I've realized. I'd like to teach her and help her in her direction. I'd like to see her open up and become more and more talented over the time I know her. I don't want her to know that I'm “Not Christian” (it's nearly a religion on it's own now, the way people talk about it), because I don't want to push her away, and I'd instinctively like to avoid the topic all together.

I'm trying to balance things out as is. I need to find ways to get closer to Carina, to find a way into her brain to teach her and elevate her learning and comprehension of the English language and common sense. Erica is an easy case honestly. If she was my only concern, I'd have nearly no work at all to do. Carina is a challenge. She has a spotty, jumpy, uneven grasp of the English language. She says "3 o'clock 30", but can still mention being a tennis champion. That has a great deal to do with the fact that tennis is her main concern, but this theme is showing all over the place. She was left behind in English because she was busy elsewhere and when her old teacher tried to bring her up to par, she jumped everything in the middle. I'm hoping reading the stories will help bridge that gap. She'll have a lot of experience with grammar and contextual explanation and syntax with the basics and she'd widen her more expressive vocabulary. That reminds me, I need to study my linguistics books. I don't feel like I can do a lot of real work here. I'll have to work on that too.

As for Erica, I'll try my best to look at her just like the child she is, but with each new thing she says, she seems less and less like a child, which makes her more accountable in my eyes. She's twelve. I've seen her drawings, and they are of a twelve year old. She vies for attention and laughs from her friends and feigns errors in her work to hold off building enemies within her rank. She's a kid. She's just deceivingly bright and situationally independent. Grown men have fallen under the lure of the protection and simplicity of religion answering all the big questions for them, I suppose I can't fault a child for doing the same. I'm sure she was raised religious and that in her reality, it is of most importance, but that doesn't alter my desire to change that one bit. I'll just expose her to more of the world, not bringing up religion at all myself. Perhaps with a little perspective, she'll be able to see things on her own, and with the brain she has, I think she can connect the dots and make a decision on her own.

Yige Guimei he yige Ayi (A ghost girl and a maid)

September 10th, 2007

I just had a confusing time with the Ayi. Last week, I asked if there was a market in town where I could buy western food so I could make fettuccine Alfredo for the kids one night. They assured me there was and this morning I was supposed to go out with Ayi to find the supplies. The day started out with a few bumps. When we were walking out the main doors of this building, the Ayi started to unlock a bicycle. “Oh no.” I thought. “She wants me to ride on the back of that thing and it's not going to work out. Maybe she just needs to put it somewhere else. Maybe the store is far and she wants to ride the bike to a bus.” Ayi is very short and so is the bike. Lowe and behold, she puts the bike down on the cobblestone road of the complex and beckons me to get on the back. I know this isn't going to work, but I try anyway. I sit on the back, side saddle and try to find somewhere to put my feet, but there's nowhere to put them! I try putting them on the shaft that comes out of the middle of the tire, but that's part of the turning crank and she can't peddle. So I put my legs out, trying to hover them over the ground, but because my legs are so long, I have to hold them straight flat out in the air and I don't see this working at all. Meanwhile Ayi is having a terrible time just trying to keep the bike up. She gets off and offers the front seat, but I protest. I don't know where we're going and I honestly don't feel comfortable riding a bike with someone sitting side saddle on the back. I've always thought this was a strange thing to do and have been amazed when I see two or three people sitting on the back of a bicycle, sometimes with a small baby wedged between. I tried to say “why don't we just take a bus”, but looking back, I think I said subway, and there isn't one around, so I'm sure she was confused.

Eventually she gave up and returned the bike to it's place and had me wait with her friends for her to return. Her friends started out by trying to talk to me in Cantonese. “Putonghua” I said. It's not a full sentence, by any stretch, but I find it usually works out better than saying “Qing yong/shuo putonghua.” partly because I think my grammar is wrong. Amazingly enough, they really did use mandarin, and proceeded to ask me the usual questions. “You're going shopping for food with her?” “Yes, we're buying American food.” “Buying American food! Ai ya!” They asked me where I come from and why I'm here now, and I told them I'm American and am teaching English “over there”. I'd tell them I'm teaching Mr. Ma's daughter, but I can't remember how to say “Mr”. Then my Chinese quickly ran out when they inevitably used a few words I didn't know and they gave up on me. I'm not good at the j/zh/z sounds. There are many words I don't know that use these sounds, and some I do, but when they use a few words with these sounds together, it just sounds like noise to my ears and try as I might, I don't understand. Zhe jhe zi zhe. What I just said doesn't' mean anything I don't think, but that's what it sounds like.

They turned around and walked away, two older women with a small curious but shy boy, shaking their heads at the guimei who doesn't know how to speak.

Ayi returned soon after that and asked if they talked to me and if I understood what they said. “Ting dong” Which pretty much means “I understand what I heard.”, though I didn't know how to say I didn't understand the last thing they said.

On the walk, I asked her if she was sure the market had American food, and she said it's all the same. I know it's not, but I walked with her anyway, because I don't know how to argue the point. Instead I talked a little about what I wanted to buy, but she kept shaking her head, saying “Kan kan.” Which is simple speak for “just look”. I was afraid she was bringing me to the normal outdoor market which I knew wouldn't have what I was looking for. Usually I will shop in these markets for weekly groceries as it's cheap and they have everything you need for the usual chow mein and such. I knew the street once we got onto it and I told her I didn't think they'd have what I need. She said “Yiyang.” The same. “Tamen yo yiyangng.” “They have the same stuff.”

I wasn't going to convince her. I kept hoping we'd take a turn and somehow make it to a grocery store but in no time I was staring down fish heads and buckets of frogs at the local market and it was time for me to speak up. “Wo zhidao wo bu keyi mai meiguo cai zheli. Tamen mayo shenme wo xuyao mai.”

“I know I can't buy American food here. They don't have what I need to buy.” She wanted me to have look anyway, but I shook my head. I knew what the market had, and I explained. “Wo xuyao mai nailao, jirou xiongpu, he meiguo de miantiao.” “I need to buy cheese, chicken breast and American noodles.” She pointed at the noodles. “Bu shi. Meiguo miantia.” “No, American noodles.” She tried to argue that the bakery had cheese, which I knew they didn't. She didn't know where to buy what I needed because she herself never needed to buy it. I've gone on the quest to make western food and it's not easy in China, you have to look around and know where to go and accept that it's not going to be in the cheap markets.

She tried to drag me to the bakery to show me but I protested. I was looking at waisting the whole morning with her, trying to explain that it wasn't going to work. “Shiyidian wo gai nide nuerzi dian hua he wen ta ban wo.” “Later I will call your daughter and ask her to help me.” Ayi asked if we could go shopping tonight. “Bu shi. Wo chu maidongxi zhege Xiawu. Ni bu xuyao geng wo ichi lai.” No, I'll go shopping in the afternoon. You don't have to come with me.” “Bu pa.” “Don't worry.” Eventually she accepted but freaked out again when I started to go back to the apartment, insisting that I wait for her to finish shopping so she could show me the way home. “Bu pa. Wo zhidao zenme yong hui lai.” Don't worry. I know how to come back.” I wasn't sure if I could say “go back” with the correct grammar and hoped she'd understand. As with many things in Chinese, I had to say it three different ways three different times for her to finally agree to let me go.

I'm a little uncomfortable and worried now. This morning I've succeeded in doing everything foreign. I couldn't ride on the bicycle with her and I couldn't shop at the local market with her, and instead insisted on finding a more expensive place to shop. I don't know how to explain it to her. Usually, I would shop at the market too, but you just can't do that if you're making western food, and I was hoping I could use the opportunity to talk about western food with the girls, and maybe get them involved.

I'm tired now and I think I have class soon. Ayi took away the bed mats I was using to make my bed comfortable so I was tossing and turning all night. Without extra comforters, Chinese beds are hard as rocks. I kept waking up every hour on the hour, and when I finally got out of bed, the sheets and pillows were thrown around everywhere. When I was here the first time, I woke up having not disturbed the bed at all. I told the Ayi I couldn't sleep because I wasn't comfortable which gives her one more guiemei point for the day. Chinese beds are all hard and most people don't complain about it. They say it's healthy because there is no choice, but they also sell mats at all the stores, so I can't feel like such an odd man out. Everyone knows they're uncomfortable.

Andy brought up the fact that I often call her Ayi or the Ayi and asked if it was rude. I explained that Ayi means maid, cook and nanny and was usually used as a term of endearment and that I never heard a negative thing about it. I've always liked the name because it seems to have a much more positive connotation then our “maid”. I don't know her real name because she hasn't told me. She tells me to call her ayi, which is what every Ayi tells me to do, so I don't think it's rude at all, but I could be missing out on some fatal information here. Maybe I'll just nag her until she tells me her name, though I think she likes being called ayi.

A Touch of Normal

September 1st, 2007

It's my third day here at the Ma house, and Carina is already warming up to me. I think she wants me to like her and she's trying hard to speak more English with me. Her friend and roomate, Erica, is attending the class with her and is quite a bright little girl. She's twelve years old as well and speaks Korean (her native language), Chinese and English. She has only been speaking Chinese for 6 months, and she told me she learned it just by listening to the other girls talk all the time. She's been studying English since she was 9 years old and went to an English school in Sweden. She is eager to please and is a big help with Carina. Erica not only helps translate when it is needed but also helps to keep the mood up and goes along with my lessons as though they were the best thing since buttered toast. Just now, I read them a bed time story and Erica made sure to act as interested as possible. The book turned out to be a bit of a waste of money as the stories were simplified boring versions of the real fairy tales, but she went along just the same. I think she knows how quickly Carina loses interest and how much she needs some focus and guidance. Erica is the best thing for her.

Tonight it was a little easier to speak with Uncle Li and the Chinese girl who doesn't speak English. Uncle Li's real name is Li Xiao Ping and his daughter is Li sa yi, who I've named Lisa. With Erica helping me, I can understand the gist of what Uncle Li says and Erica fills me in on the words I don't' know. It's much smoother this way and it allows me to talk more with her and build a bond. I feel more inclined to build a bond with her than I do with Carina, but that's to be expected. Erica is very intelligent and polite and eager to please, whereas Carina has sporadic focus, has been spoiled and so has very few manners and is eager to be pleased. They're practically opposites.

In the room across from me, Lisa and her parents sleep together. Lisa seems like a bit of the odd girl out. She's very boyish looking, with close cropped hair and a slim straight build. When explaining how her body is built to a Chinese friend of mine, I said "Ta kanshilai yige quaizi." She looks like a chopstick. It's the closest thing I knew to calling her a twig. She's very shy and likes to stay in her room while the other two hang out. I'm not sure if this is from preference or from ostracization.

Carina is not half as difficult as I was prepared for, though I'm happier for it. The only difficulty is finding a lesson plan that will both interest her and Erica and be simple enough for Carina to follow without holding Erica back too much. The other problem is finding material that is simple enough for her level but interesting enough for her age. I'm thinking of giving Erica further reading on the side.

The downside of all of this is the inconvenience factor. For this job, I have to travel to Jiangmen for four days of the week every week. I stay in this room and have very little time to myself. I'm not comfortable yet in the house and I don't like being away from Andy this much. It doesn't' help that Andy and I had a fight before I left. We have never been away from each other for this long. I realize 4 days isn't a long time, but it is when it's never happened before, and Andy and I are infused in each others lives. We live together, work together, play together, learn together. It's strange and uncomfortable to be doing something that he is not involved with. Since we've been together, we've hardly ever gone 4 days without being intimate either. Three days seems to be my limit before I reach a breaking point to the degree where I'm intent on "fixing this problem", so I'll have to cope with that as well.

Living at the house for the four days has presented a few problems for me that I'll have to work out. While I'm there, I am comfortable and the day is very scheduled and routine. The girls have breakfast at 7 am, go to school and return at either 11:30 or 12:30 depending on how much slack they're getting for tennis practice. (This is usually determined by whether or not Carina's schedule has changed. If she is attending school, they all follow her schedule and come home at 11:30; if she's not attending school however, the other two girls will stay at the school until lunch time). We have lunch together, have some after meal fruit and have class for an hour and a half. After class, they relax for 30 minutes and then take a nap. At 3:30, they go to tennis practice and come home at 8:30 for dinner. We have dinner together, have some after meal fruit, talk and hang out for a while, and then they have an hour of personal time where they'll often write in their diaries or talk to their parents before I read them a bedtime story and they go to sleep.

This is all very routine. Ayi usually comes into my room and asks for my dirty laundry at the same hour every day and returns the clean clothes on time as well. When I wake up there is baotzi waiting for me steaming in the wok while the kids eat their breakfast. While they're at school, Ayi goes cleans up breakfast, does laundry and goes shopping. After they leave for tennis practice, Ayi cleans the house, mops the floors (including mine) and takes a nap on the couch. Thirty minutes before they come back from practice, Ayi washes her hair in my bathroom with door open, wearing all her clothes with the apron still fixed about her neck, and washes her feet with a toothbrush. Dinner is always on time. There is always fruit. The house is always clean. It's stable and has made me a bit uncomfortable.

I enjoy the relaxation and having an Ayi is deffinetely nice. However, I do not feel at ease in the usual sense. I'm not at home there. I am visiting and feel that my time is catagorized and labeled and I have a hard time sitting down for a good long stint of work. At home, when I work I dive into it and don't come out for hours despite hunger or bodily needs. I'll work round the clock and throw out any pretense of a sleeping schedule in light of the more pressing matter of the project at hand. I can't do that at the Ma. house. If I sink into my work and throw off my schedule, I'll rock the schedule of the house. I have to be ready the next day. I have to keep a schedule, and I've never had to do that when it comes to our work.

So far, the best I can do is alternate between reading my fiction books, studying my linguistics books, writing lesson plans and personal writing like this when I have time to myself. I see the value in these things, but I'm not cranking out the work, and so I feel unbalanced, off put and strange. This is not normal. When we move out to Jiangmen, I'll have more freedom and will be able to work at home while they're at practice and at night which should solve that problem. Until then, though, I'll need to enforce a work schedule for myself, allotting hours of work for separate projects. Having a semblance of a work schedule could be a good thing for us. We're so inclined to spend all of our time working that we've omitted any outside social life or exercise, so maybe this could add the touch of normal to our lives that we might need. Just a touch, no more.