White people, USA

I have nothing against white people. I happen to be white. Sometimes I'm a little disappointed; I feel much more Asian than Caucasian. I went to high school and college surrounded by many different colors. I went to China and was surrounded by Chinese people. At grad school I'm also surrounded by tons of international students.

So today was a bit of a culture shock when several of my friends and I drove east to Nashville, Indiana. It was a beautiful fall day for a beautiful fall drive. We were headed for a quaint town nestled in the hills of east central Indiana.

I imagined a quiet main street with tiny restaurants and maybe a few people in flannel shirts and jeans or something. I guess that was partially true, except that main street was filled with thundering pick-up trucks, motorcycles, and tons of rather large white people. It was fascinating. It was like white people's Disneyland. I couldn't quite figure out why there were millions of people in this middle-of-nowhere town that was only filled with candy and Christmas knickknack shops. It was almost as crowded as China. These are some things I noted:

-People ate cotton candy.
-People ate fudge.
-People ate hotdogs.
-People ate cotton candy, fudge, and hotdogs all at once.
-People shopped with at least 10 ten children per family.
-People owned Harley-Davidson everything; the bike, the attire, etc.
-People wore plenty of camouflage.
-People bought confederate flags. Wasn't Indiana a part of the Union?
-People ate, ate, ate.

The highlight was when we ate at "Calzone Jones," an earthy little restaurant with an owner named Frank, who wore suspenders, and had a gray mustache the size of Texas. His family worked with him. They all shouted like they were deaf. Here is one conversation we heard word-for-word between the twenty-something girl on the phone with her grandma--probably Frank's wife. Everyone stopped to listen. You couldn't help but listen.

"IS MOMMY THERE? MEEMAW, IS MOMMY THERE? YES, MEEMAW, I LOVE YOU TOO!!"

A few minutes later another daughter actually shouted to all the restaurant patrons, "CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?!"

The whole restaurant came to an awkward silence. Was the building burning down? Nope. She went on to explain in her booming voice:

"ALL THE OVENS ARE FULL! ALL THE OVENS ARE FULL WITH STUFF RIGHT NOW! PLEASE BE PATIENT!"

I couldn't help but laugh. That place had character. Frank, who must have been about 80 years old, also advertised his "debut CD" on sale for only $13.00. They played it in the restaurant. Frank plays the fiddle, of course. If I ever return, which I probably won't, perhaps I'll think about purchasing a copy.

So it was a bizarre town, but it was so fun to hang out with friends, take a break from studying for mid-terms, and just wander around aimlessly.

I hope you're having a beautifully blessed weekend!


In Nashville with my Chinese-American friend, Yee. We were both a little scared by all the white people and white people stuff.


Chinese pose.


A picture-perfect church.


Vanessa outside of Frank's place.


Our group from IU Graduate-Faculty Ministry.

My other self

A new life experience is sometimes a great opportunity to change things about yourself that you'd like to. For example, I want to do things that make me uncomfortable--not in a sinful way, but in a stretching way. So I'm starting small. And my experience in small group can be an example.

To be very honest, I really don't like dogs that are larger than a stuffed animal. First, dogs always love to leap on me, lick me all over, claw my legs, etc. The small group I go to has a dog at the host's house. I decided that I was going to fake liking the dog until I actually did start to like it. So far I haven't been that successful.

When I walk in the door, the dog bounds over to me, puts its paws on my legs, and starts going crazy. I plaster on a smile, and pet it excitedly, just like I grew up with thousands of dogs when I was a child.

Then during the Bible study, the dog usually paces around the room of 10 people, then settles on putting his head on my lap, of course. Sometimes I can ignore it. Other times I pet it and scratch its head.

Then last week, I had to stretch myself even further. The dog was licking my arm, and then the super cute hockey player guy of the group announces a camping trip. Oh, no, I thought. Not a camping trip. But everyone else, even the other girls get super excited, like it is the most thrilling event in history. Then a Johnny Raincloud in the group (who actually wasn't me) mentions, "But there's a fire ban, because of the dry weather." I perk up at this news. No camping with a fire ban. Maybe there will be a fire ban until winter, and no more chances for camping!

But, alas, everyone is determined to camp, fire ban and all. I immediately think of my limited camping experiences and all the excuses not to go. I used to camp in a tent at Cape Cod with my relatives every summer when I was young, but that was different. We were at a campground, there was access to a bathroom, and there weren't any cute guys.

Now this is a whole new ball game. I'm 24, and camping sounds about as appealing to me as an overnight train ride in China, which actually might be more rugged than camping. Both involve sleeping poorly on hard surfaces, going to the bathroom in a hole, and feeling extremely unglamorous.

Anyways, I also put on my "other self" in different situations. This weekend I went to a ballet with my friends, which I greatly enjoyed. It made me miss dancing a lot. It was rare that I felt much more joyful and challenged than when I was dancing. I loved performing, too. Probably because I could be someone else--someone graceful, elegant, and talented.

Teaching was also a lot that way too. I wasn't Laura; I was a teacher who could engage, encourage, and excite classrooms full of students. They couldn't tell that I was afraid of dogs, disliked camping, or sometimes felt inadequate.

I had a similar feeling last week when I presented a 45 minute group presentation in our Public Management class. As part of our presentation, I played the role of a moderator for a press conference. Without trying, I had the whole class in stitches. I got a little scared since this was a grad course. But then I saw the professor thoroughly enjoying it, too, so I relaxed. They went crazy during our presentation, and we got our point across quite well. Afterward, a lot of my classmates came up to me and said things like, "You deserve an Oscar!" or "You were so convincing as someone else."

Yes, I'm quite good at being someone else. Is that okay? I don't feel that happy about it.

Whatever the answer, I know I am the most content with my identity as a dearly loved daughter of the King. I can be myself, and He still loves me. I can be Laura.

My photographer self took a couple of these fall shots:


The gorgeous view outside my apartment.


A very orange tree on campus.