I have no sense of direction in Beijing. There is no Empire State Building to direct me north or City Hall to the south. The skyline here stretches on for an eternity. Giant, homogenous blocks imprisoning so many human beings. You start to wonder what would happen if all the inhabitants start screaming out loud at that exact moment. Screams from anger, screams from stress, screams from sex, screams from pity, screaming laughter. You wonder if it happens at the same time, might the decibels shatter the buildings one by one by one, from window to floor to earthshaking foundation.
This is what I thought about when standing on the roof of non-descript building #143. It took us forever to figure out what direction our homes were because there were almost no topographic change from one direction to another. All I remember thinking was how great if all this would end in Fight Club style. I thought please let me take a stab at the fugly CCTV tower first. It looks like a bad dream from Vegas, lit up 24 hours a day without soul in it.
But there is a soul here, limping here and shining there, beating wildly, screaming along with the rest of us.
The other day my father said to me, his voice rising to a volume I'm unaccustomed to: "America is a much much better country than China." I was riding in the 144th taxi since moving to Beijing four months ago when I replied, "yep, I know, and?" My face felt like porcelain and my tongue automatic nonchalance. I think seeing beauty in an explosion of ugly is worthwhile. I think father knows best but this daughter is a lost cause, a zombie walking into chaos and feeding on it. I think all the dreams and frustrations this city carry really might shatter glass if we all screamed, and I remind myself that that's why I'm here.
I think it's funny how everything I write in here of late is an affirmation and explanation as to why I'm here. Don't worry about me. I'm just ecstatic.