Mandarin class last night was interesting. I ended up talking before the beginning of class with the only girl (can you call a woman in her 30s a girl still?) in it. As people filtered in it became obvious that every (young) guy in the class was taking it for their girlfriend (a few even brought them along to observe). When they asked me why I was there I tried to say “for business,” but that line didn’t hold up upon further investigation. One of my strong points (or weak points depending on your outlook) is that I’ve never been a good liar. In fact I hate to lie about anything to anyone. I can keep a secret, but to deliberately lie is not something I can do with ease. This is probably the main reason I never got into playing poker.

The one guy that wasn’t there for his girlfriend was a student of Chi-Qong. I told him that my ex-girlfriend was a translator for the Chi-Qong master. He told me the name of his master and it wasn’t the same. So perhaps there are several ultimate grand dragon ruler of the universe Chinese chi-qong masters in Los Angeles…

I was surprised to find four students had already quit the class. Jeez, did everyone’s Chinese girlfriend dump them last weekend, or what?

The class has become frustrating for me. Not because of questioning my motivation for staying there – but because the teacher has a strong accent that makes it hard for us to understand her. After being with someone from Shanghai who has virtually no accent I have a hard time accepting this quality in someone who is supposed to be a language teacher. Also, she spent about half an hour of our 80 minute class last night describing her life in Japan when she was a translator there.

The language itself is very hard. Certain words are easy to use and remember – but learning to recognize the characters that go along with the words is an uphill battle. And now it is a battle I have no reason to fight other than that I paid to be there…