Social Lies, Last Chat, First Rain

Tuesday: I can't say that the second day of classes went quite as well as the first. Actually, the classes were nice enough. One was the medieval section of the History of Chinese Literature series. The teacher is young and hard-core and very funny and enthusiastic. The other was my Beida adviser YHz's class on the early dynastic History of the Former Han. I learned a lot in both classes. However, WW, aka Army Gal, came bustling in in YHz's wake like a bad wind, and YHz's face was rather cold. Perhaps it was first day of class nerves, or perhaps it was Army Gal's importunities. Either way, I was a little concerned lest I suffer guilt by association.

Army Gal came straight over to me and sat across the aisle, then began to fuss self-importantly about this and that. I regarded her mass of coarse untidy long hair and her strong round dangerous face. I spoke to her with cool polite friendliness as best I could.

After the glass, we both walked out with YHz. I made an arrangement to meet her on Thursday morning. Then as I was parting from them made the mistake of saying I was headed off to another class. Instantly Army Gal was on me like a hawk. "What class?!" And then she would have to go to. Patiently, I suffered her to tag along behind me. The classroom was empty, though, a sign on the board saying the class would start next week instead. We descended the stairs together, I already having inklings of dread about what was going to happen next, and me without an excuse or alibi.

Are you going to the library now? I'm going too! Army Gal insisted I ride in her car with her, the fifty yard drive to the library.

It's hard to explain how or why her presence grates on me so extremely but it does, ever since that disastrous dinner we had together, when she kept telling me to hurry home and get married. Actually, she did it again as we were walking out with YHz, attempting to share a "we married woman" nudge and wink with her. Now, in her little white car, Army Gal drove slowly, and quizzed me about what I had done for the Spring Festival--I had had Peking duck with friends, I told her. At the place we went to before? she wanted to know. No, just a little place in my friend's neighborhood.

I thought with a pang about the jolly little eatery, called "Easy Time", a fine meal at the window table, fireworks blowing up right outside, and friendly undemanding conversation. Something tells me no one's ever had an "easy time" with Army Gal around.

She informed me that she had tried to call me and invite me somewhere but that the call hadn't gone through. She said this several times. I felt a great relief in me that some telephone glitch had spared me. Yes, I was feeling that curmudgeonly.

Army Gal dropped me off in front of the library and said she had an errand to do in the department. She'd catch up with me later. She'd catch up with me later. A deep and inexplicable dread filled me. I went into the library like a rat sensing a trap. I wavered. If I were given to hand-wringing, I would have wrung my hands. I hate lying. I hate it. But some people force you to. I sent her a quick text saying that a friend of mine had asked if I could help her out with something, so I was going to go do that. This was not wholly untrue, because there was an e-mail waiting from HJ with some translation questions, waiting for me to answer it. But it wasn't strictly true either. Go then, Army Gal texted back after a bit. By then I was already half-way home.

I paid for my social lie, however, for somehow I was not able to get a single bit of work done all evening. I didn't even manage to answer HJ's e-mail. The productivity gods were frowning on me for my cowardice.

Wednesday: I made up for some of my unproductivity by having a fairly decent morning. After lunch, I took Lincoln out and rode to school for a seminar. Got to the classroom, waited. Other people obviously waiting for the same seminar. At about a quarter past, we gave up en masse and trekked over to the department to check the schedule. The class would not be starting until the third week, read the announcement. The professor is a slacker, I thought, and rode Lincoln home again.

At home I just wasted time for a bit until it was time to go out again. I had found out that the Lama was leaving for five weeks of traveling about with his girlfriend, who would be arriving on Friday. It's a sort of unwritten rule that when someone's s.o. comes to visit you leave them alone. Indeed, I had been prepared to bid the Lama goodbye after our fun time at D-22 on Saturday. But having dinner together a last time had been his idea, and I wasn't complaining. It made me feel rather nice, proof that he enjoyed my company.

And I--well, especially after my depressing re-encounter with Army Gal, I felt I could do with a bit of company that didn't make me want to run screaming and tearing my hair. So I took Lincoln to Wudaokou and rode the subway from there. I like getting out of my neighborhood and the Lama likes staying in his, so it was easy to decide.

When we met, we had a few moments debate on where to go, and then decided on duck at Easy Time again. It may seem unadventurous, but somehow neither of us felt like trying to negotiate something new. We both just felt like having an "Easy Time." The waitresses, I think, remembered us from last time and put us at the same table. We ordered different stuff, some kind of noodle, and sauteed Chinese broccoli, to go with our duck, and it was even more delicious than last time.

We talked shop some, and I also learned more about his girlfriend, and other people he knows also. How I like to hear people's stories. It's strange that I'm not more sociable, because hearing about things about people's lives is so satisfying to me and interesting.

After dinner we rambled down to a really classy coffee-shop called Waiting for Godot. I kid you not. It was an awesome place, with a whole wall of funky post-cards for sale, a lot of random decor, bootleg DVDs, handwritten poems (in Chinese) written in white on the black walls. I wish I had discovered it sooner. Pocket of Bolts would have liked it lots. We had a couple of Belgian beers, and talked over some translation problems. I had offered to help, and was chagrined that I had no ideas about some of the problems, but I think I was able to give good suggestions about a few. Well, I don't promise miracles, after all--only "two heads are better than one."

I had meant to go before the subway closed, but the time kind of flew by. By the time we'd said our farewells and do keep in touches, and I'd trudged to the subway, I barely caught the last train and it didn't even go all the way. So I ended up taking a cab to Wudaokao. It would have been easier to take a cab home, but I have resolved not to leave Lincoln overnight anywhere except for my own attended parking garage. He is too good a bike to be treated carelessly.

It was a gloomy enough ride home, though, and I was glad that Pocket of Bolts was there at the end of it, even if it was only his virtual self. It really does do me good to get out and talk to people, but somehow when there is no PoB to come home to the good sort of evaporates.

The next day, Thursday, I had an 8 AM class. That was a hard thing, but it was the good medieval literature class again, so I managed to make myself get there. I can't believe that the professor cold-calls on people, not to answer questions but to recite poems! Can you imagine an English class in the US where the professor assigned the memorization of five poems per lecture, and then cold-called people to recite them the next time? Not that the recitations were perfect, but still, I was pretty impressed.

And then I had my meeting with YHz. Is it not sweet and beautiful to be praised by one's superior, and for something one really cares about? (By superior, of course, I mean not merely hierarchical superior, but superior in a sense that matters--someone you respect, someone you feel is above you in a way you admire.) That was my feeling after meeting with YHz. We had met so she could give me suggestions on my paper. Her opinion was generally favorable, and her suggestions thoughtful. If I work very hard on the revisions, she may help me publish it. I felt inspired.

I felt so inspired, in fact, that I worked on the revisions all that afternoon.

Meanwhile, it rained. Not very much, mind you--just a tiny tiny bit. But it was still rain. I was thrilled. Here is a picture to show how little rain it takes to thrill me. Keep in mind that there has been no precipitation here in months.

On the way home, I bought a stack of books in preparation for the new semester's classes. I love doing that. They're stacked up neatly next to the television, with the former getting decidedly more attention than the latter. That's just the kind of person I am!

I felt productive and ready to go. It was really a good day.