July 4^th, the Independence Day in the U.S.

It is extremely hot outside. Though the sunshine is not so blazing as yesterday, tufts of clouds idling in the air, the temperature is reaching 100 degrees. Definitely no wind. Peeking out of the window, I can see pine trees standing by the street as solidly as rigid old women. Only the  hairy moss that intertwines twigs floats occasionally in some weak breeze, weak as old ladies’ moaning, only to find no listeners. The extreme heat does not bring me any passion for this national holiday. After all, the Independence Day is for an American, not me. America is my foreign land.

To blame the heat in Texas for the dullness of my life seems very unfair. In the very beginning, what brought me to Houston was its very unique summer, not much wind, not much humidity, just pure heat without any negotiation. Like it or not, you need to make adjustment to it but not the verse visa. Scorched in this kind of hot days, you have a natural thirst for water and hunger for coolness. The need becomes very animalistic, I would say, but very pure.

However, why my taste for life is very low right now? Can’t think of anything funny to do, any people to talk to, and anything worthy of writing. The heat doesn’t stimulate me in a least way. Though things needed to be done are stacking higher and higher, my passion burns and burns, but less and less.

In another room, Jared is studying his coin investment. A small flashlight, magnifying glass, slabs of coins, and coin magazines scattered all over the floor. Jared never likes reading textbooks as I do, but once he is into something, he is impossible to be disturbed even by a tornado. When he finds something he is interested in, he plunges into it with a child’s curiosity and a man’s persistence. On the contrary, after my long-time education, during which I was compelled to write, read, and think academically, I find myself a very disengaged person. Except for the slight sparkle for writing in me, I am possessing flame for nothing. Even a couple of cooking experience for two, Jared and me, distress me. Am I a person knowing no art of living?

The art of living is indeed easy to think but hard to obtain. Four years of pursuing Master degrees in America have trained me to think and live like a soldier living life as living through one battle after another but never gave me the chances to live as a daughter, a girlfriend, and a wife. I don’t know how to cook for two, how to get the titbits information around the area where I am living in, or how to have a loose and casual conversation with others. Even the act of shopping is like a conquest for me. I need to buy something once I shop. Jared always says when we get married he will be the housewife and me the breadwinner. I am glad that I haven’t scared him away and he loves who I am.

Twenty four days to go to start my job. I do need to sweep away all the inactive, passive thoughts. The heat is almost unbearable. Fried or not, I am going to see the firework display in the evening. The blossoms in the sky will be beautifully after all. Can’t miss it.