So this past week I had a mental breakdown. I'm talking tears, phone calls to parents, lots of sad alone time. Why? Because I was incredibly overwhelmed with my Chinese class. Am. This is not something that crept up on me, mind you. Chinese has been my beast of burden these last three years because, although I independently and passionately chose to learn the language, it is incredibly life-sapping and labor-intensive. Surprise surprise.
However, this past weekend, when I was seriously contemplating dropping it, I realized I had been forgetting the reason I had started taking Chinese in the first place. It truly is a fascinating language, as well as visually stunning. Not only is it really cool that I can carry a conversation with someone in Chinese, I also thoroughly enjoy the Chinese lifestyle. Being there for a couple of months in 2010 and several times before made me realize I could easily see myself working there for an extended (although not indefinite) amount of time. Ideal job? Some kind of Shanghainese fashion magazine. That's my aim for an internship this summer, at least.
So this week will be dedicated to re-discovering my love for Chinese. Welcome aboard.
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