Of What Are We Made?

I still, in many aspects, try to live like a local. I buy groceries from the local market that has their produce spread out on the ground as if its just been waxed squeaky clean with twenty tons of germ killa. I take the bus/metro whenever time allows for it. Hell, I even eat from the sidewalk restaurants from time to time, dangerously risking long unwanted visits to W.C. of yours truly. But I can tell that it'll take me much more than eight months of living here to truly even begin to glimpse what Chinese life really is like. I recently came across an article in the New Yorker by a bi-cultural journalist named Jianying Zha. It provides a very detailed and intimate look into the complex life and thoughts that shape a Chinese political idealist. It shows a man and his convictions that his sacrifice for a cause he believes in is necessary for the greater good. Not surprisingly, the article reminds me how low-scoring the little details I call "issues" really are on the scoreboard of life. I remember at one point growing up I wanted to make a difference. I still do. (Vivian, I WANT that email!*) Do we somehow forget what it is that truly moves us deep within? Or do we just grow out of these "phases" of life, eventually settling down to a job that pays well and moving through life as it "should be?"