Numbers

I usually consider myself to be a language person. I read. I write. I learn new languages. Except when I don't.

The past week or so has been overwhelmingly full of numbers. Budgets, flight numbers, flight prices, hotel prices, more budgets, loan information--I haven't been able to get away from them. They've swept over my life, consuming it even as they describe it in all its various facets. Even the sheer number of windows my computer has open on average these days--currently 10 tabs on my browser, Skype, iTunes, and a Word document, which is actually on the low side for how it has been--is staggering.

And, perhaps not surprisingly, all this focus on numbers has stifled my language-y self, inundating my mind with numbers and concerns so that all that comes spilling out onto the pages of my blog is short little snippets of my concerns; all that comes out of my mouth when I try to practice Chinese is wrong. (Okay, that second one might be a stretch, but I'll take any excuse I can come by to excuse my still-poor Chinese.)

I want to be done with these stupid numbers already. I want the first thing to pop into my head when I sit down to type to be about my 6th graders replying to my role-call question of "What do you like to do?" with things like "I like to sleep," followed by six consecutive responses of "I like to play video games," or about decorating a silver Christmas tree with pink tinsel, poinsettia lights, and tiny Santa Clauses at Qingshan with Patty.

I like to know what's going on; I like to have a plan. Having things figured out numerically lets me focus on the more exciting, and lively, aspects of my life. But the process of getting there sucks, and takes quite a while, leaving behind sucky blog posts that I don't expect anyone to read, that I write just so I can maintain my standard of posting daily. But, if you've made this far, despite all my numbers and spotty posts I guess this is for you:

I'm sorry.