Rebecca A. Foster

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I have a bit of an ear/neck fetish. Ears are very sensitive, no? (That why we poke holes in them, I suppose.) A man who is a good ear kisser is permanently on the "I'll Always Remember You" list. (I love putting people on lists; it makes my life a lot more organized!) That particular list is short, but it's a good one. I prefer sleeping with my ears covered; grandma came to check on me one night and saw me on my side with the blankets covering my ear. She got such a kick out of that because she needs to have her ears covered when she sleeps, too. She bought me a silk pillowcase so I could sleep with silk over my ears, what a grandma! I'll often wake up in the morning with my arms and hands curled up around my head, the backs of my hands covering my ears. I have a hard time sleeping with other people in my bed because I want the blankets over my ears. I don't know why, but it's comforting to have my ears covered. Hey, at least it's not my nose! ____...

It is harder to adjust to coming home than I imagined. A few things: 1. Reacclimating to American culture is stressful, because I don't always know how to act. And the cultural diversity I love so much (and missed so much) is unexpectedly stressful to deal with. R. and I have had some conversations about this and luckily I'm not just weird, it's hard for her too. It's comforting to know it's common, but still: it sucks. I'll write about some specific things when I have a chance. 2. I still dream every night I'm in China. My brain hasn't caught up with the fact I'm not going back to China. When this finally sinks in, I expect to have a little meltdown about it. 3. I'm on the road right now visiting friends out of state. I really needed this. Pardon my silence. 4. Some American friends I made in China have been very easy and natural to keep in touch with. Others have not. And without saying too much publicly, these categories are not popula...

A few weeks ago, we joked that we should have a Chongqing PCV Writer’s Club, in which we’d write bad/cheesy romance pieces, then read them out loud to each other a la open mic beat poetry night. Did I mention it has been raining FOREVER in Chongqing? It’s making us all a little crazy. So last week in our downtown Starbucks, the Writer’s Club* had their first meeting. (I should mention, Starbucks here are almost like libraries, with sectioned-off rooms, long tables with study lamps for laptops, super comfy couches and lounge chairs, and all the free wi-fi you can handle. You can basically hang out there all day and no one blinks an eye. Also, they make all their specialty coffee drinks in non-coffee versions, which is great. I wish they did this in the U.S. They do this because many Chinese don’t like the taste of coffee. So, a caramel frappuccino will have whole milk instead of coffee, along with the caramel flavorings etc. They also have more teas on the menu here.) We each spent abou...

I love the notebooks in China. I don't know why, but almost all of them have some kind of Chinglish phrase on the cover. Here are a few I saw in a school supply shop near my campus: I love the 'My baby grows up in this way' tagline: For when you need to announce your life strategy: 'I never really try to be positive.' Nothing says 'Season's Greeting' like a stack of folded towels. Btw, a candle that close to the towels is a fire hazard. 'Goes the sound which the balcony listens to spend.' HUH? No really, I love these. But this one is still my all time favorite: In other news, I have to go out of town to this weekend for a medical test. I have two spots on my back that keep scabbing over and won't heal, so I have to get them checked out. Sunshine, I love you so much, why do you hurt me like this? And in still further news, I only have 9 months left in China. 9 months! Where has the time gone? I feel like I have survive...

I had a blog that I kept for my family when I lived in Texas, and my dad used to leave comments on it. After he died, I couldn't bear to delete the blog, but I couldn't bear to write on it anymore, either. Too many memories. I still have the blog, but it's set to private. Sometimes I still go and read his comments, even though reading them makes me sad. I really miss him. 

I started making these entries because I needed to remind myself there are still plenty of things to love. I have a habit of noticing joy and I didn't want to lose it in the midst of everything else happening in my life. I've never lost a parent before, I didn't really know how to not lose myself, too. I often feel out of sorts these days. My life sorta got turned upside down. I don't think it's bad, it's just not what I was prepared for. People say out of the unexpected can come great things. I think it's true. But it doesn't mean it's not awkward at times. The things I really want to talk about, I can't really talk about here. Because they're not for everyone's eyes. Some eyes here, some eyes there. Boundaries are a good thing, I think. I wondered if anyone reading this would think I was shallow for talking about such lightweight things. Probably. I have a journal for the deep stuff. God-willing, it will never see the light of day. And...

You know that sound pencil makes when it's moving rapidly across paper? That rough, scratching sound? I love that sound. It's the sound of thoughts and ideas. It's why I keep a box of sharpened pencils in my desk and use them to write in my journal. I like hearing what my brain is thinking. (I also use them to keep my address book updated.) I buy pencils in art museum gift shops, they usually sell interesting ones. It's one of the few places I see pencils that aren't school-bus yellow or Jr. High-glitter. And I got a nice box of them from an Xpedx paper show vendor a few years back, pretty matte shades of blues and browns. I keep my eye out for neat pencils. But kinda sad they've become an artist's tool, curiosity and gift shop item. Such a wonderful sound.

The entire text of an e-mail I received today from a friend: "So our newest employee, Julie, informed us today on the way to lunch that she feels her writing talents are best suited for the adult market." Best e-mail of the week, hands down. On a related note, I feel my photographic talents are best-suited for being a Playboy Bunny.* These moments of self-awareness sometimes just happen. (*Or maybe I've been watching too much The Girls Next Door lately.)