Understanding China, One Blog at a Time

An American in China

If I were Chinese – Analyzing the Sucky Life of a Chinese Person- Part 1

Posted by w_thames_the_d on January 18, 2011

On my way to work today I thought of what it meant to be Chinese in 2011. As I battled my way to work, I then retraced my steps, mentally as it were, to try and understand what makes the typical Chinese person tick, or how they think.

If I were Chinese this is what my life would be like.
If I were Chinese…
If I were Chinese…I would open my eyes around 7 am , the Beijing smog thick as stew outside my window. Rising, I would not kiss my wife, my love for whom has long since run out. Although she has a good job, her utility beyond her monetary contribution to the household has now waned. Although she has given me my mandatory child whom I resent, I now find greater solace in the company of several young ktv hostesses than in her presence.
Cursing the puny 70square meter abode that my parents forced me to buy, I move to the lone bathroom. My father grunts at me in acknowledgment of my presence as he and my mother, both clad in pajamas that have seen better days, marshal all the strength their old bodies can muster and shove my lone child and burden out the door, presumably to play with him.
If I were Chinese…
Although I resent them, they are my parents and Confucious has long before sealed their fate. It was they who proffered me the cash to invest in my miniscule home, for which I mrerely have ownership rights for 70 years. After providing the cash to help me purchase the shoebox in which I live, I must allow these septgenarians to live with me in perpetuity. I abhor them as they have never shown me love, but they do take care of the little beast of a child with which I am now burdened. Passing through the door, the stench of chemical solvents is thick in the air, my new neighbors must be redecorating their apartment. I just read how leukemia is on the rise in Chinese children, the use of such chemicals in houses is considered to be part of the cause. If anything happens to my child, I have a diary of my neighbors activities in the hopes that I may be able to bring a lawsuit against them.
If I were Chinese…
Watching the people who conceived me pad out the door I exhale that our encoutner was brief. Moving to the bathroom, I curse the chinese products that my parents insist on purchasing. Holding tight to the mao’ist principles of the 60’s , they eschew foreign brands, much to my chagrin. Possessing no faith in goods made in China I shove aside the ‘Darlie Toothpaste’ and opt for baking soda instead. It is common knowledge that Chinese toothpaste frequently has toxic chemicals in it which give them their vibrant green color.
Glancing at the toilet, i curse as once again its leaking. While my building is only three years old the water stains on the walls are as numerous as the cockroaches now infesting my kitchen. Brackish water drips from my ceiling and collects by the toilet which also has a problem containing the water therein. The general structural integrity of my humble apartment is less than that the nest of a falcon, its impending collapse, i fear , is imminent.
Having bathed three days ago, I feel it is once again time to undergo a shower. Turning on the tepid water, I shudder to enter. The stench of potassium is strong as I move my fragile frame beneath the droplets now trickling from the shower head.
Cringing as I hear a noise, my wife enters the bathroom. I cleanse myself long enough for her to take her leave then quickly dress. the 25 rmb or U$3.50 I have in my pocket must last me three more days, so I forgo a trip on the local mechanized rickshaw for some baozi or dumplings. Trundling down the sidewalk, I move to the subway. My gaping maw grinding cheerfully on the beef mixed with cardboard disguised as a food stuff, enter enters my esophagus.
If I were Chinese…
As I avoid my fellow Chinese, who I secretly despise for their number and lack of morals and sense of humanity. Lacking all semblance of civility, my fellow China-men rudely shove into one another while screeching into their phones and ‘cleanse the streets of spittle with their urine’. As I look at them I am reminded of my parents, of whom I am secretly mortified.

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