Give them enough rope

You can guide and advise people up to a point, and then you need to take a step back and let what unfolds, unfold.  My Granny used to say, "Give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves."  Now I am not a psychopath who enjoys being surrounded by decomposing bodies hanging from all the trees in the neighborhood like funeral flowers sticky-taped to the branches.  I actually do want people to succeed and not end up as a corpse in a tree.  Imagine all the flies they would attract?  But I digress.
You can advise your children until your face turns blue and you look like a not so distant relation of the Smurfs.  But at the end of the day, some of your advice will sink in, others will get flung back at you as an accusation, and your children will make their own decisions.  As a parent you can only do so much.  You can't watch over them every second of the day as you have to work so you can afford to buy them all the stuff they want.  Sorry, need.
This whole thing about needs and wants.  When we lived in NZ we often used to go to a shop called The Warehouse.  ("The Warehouse, The Warehouse.  Where everyone gets a bargain." Is the catchy jingle I hated.  No bargains when you take your children with you into that shop!  And what is it when things are cheap or marked down that we feel compelled to buy them even though we don't need them?)  Anyway, initially my young son always 'wanted' the expensive toys.  When I always responded with "Those who want don't get."  (You can see what a nice caring mother I was.)  He changed it to "Mommy I need it."  And then there always followed a justification of why he needed it.  Then I would say he could pick one toy.  He would come with a toy that cost over $300.  Obviously, as a single mother always on the bones of her arse, I would respond with something like, "Put that back are you crazy or what?"  He would then come back with something that cost $100 and get the same reaction.  Then something for $50.  Finally, he would arrive with something that cost $10 and I would agree to buy it, only too relieved it never cost $300.  Not forgetting that I had said that I would not be spending more than $5 on a toy when we pulled into the parking lot.  It took several months before I realised that it was the $10 toy he wanted all along.  And the $300 toy he would be bringing too me was part of his elaborate selling technique.  (Interestingly, he has made a career in sales.)

So when they ask if they can have a barbecue party and you explain that as you live in a tutor centre where you also work, the place is not set out for entertaining.  Like we don't have a lounge or a dining room.  Those are classrooms.  But because you don't like being accused of being unsupportive, yadda, yadda, yadda, you cave in and say "Okay but any mess and you clean it up."  Walking out this morning to make myself a cup of coffee, I noticed a) the state of the kitchen b) all the bottles and glasses lying around two of the classrooms c) bottles outside.  Looks like it was some barbecue!  My initial thought was, "Thank God I don't have to clean up this mess!"
Give them enough rope hahaha.
This works with all relationships.  People you live with, work with etc.  And also people who try and destroy your good name or people who enjoy spreading stories about others.  The story-spreaders are a perverse lot.  They take a small glimmer of truth, or something they think they heard, and they twist and turn it so that it is manipulated into something you don't even recognise.  Like someone who systematically steals your possessions, these people steal your truth.  They fall into the same category.  Your initial reaction might be to defend your honour, make people aware of the truth, confront the person stealing your stuff.  But if you give them enough rope they will hang themselves.  The thief will get too clever and slip up, and the rumour-monger will be found out and exposed.  The truth will out.
So instead of buying a sword or a gun to attack with, rather just buy some rope and leave it there and walk away.  Their behaviour and decisions are their choice, not yours.  They have to take responsibility for their actions.  They have to live with the consequences and you have to move on.  Don't try and own what they've done.  Don't let the injustice of it all hurt you.  You know the truth and that's what matters.
Cindy Vine lives in sometimes sunny Cape Town South Africa.  She is the author of The Case of Billy B, Not Telling, Defective, C U @ 8 and Hush Baby.  All her books are available on Amazon in both paperback and kindle format.

Book Trailer that will make you smile!

Siobhan is very sneaky.  She should have been punished but instead I confiscated her video footage and decided to use it to make a book trailer. 
I have to explain how it all happened.
She was watching music videos on Youtube on her macbook, as you do when you are a teenager.  She told me to watch one of the videos and the music was so catchy I started to dance.  Well, not quite.  More like gyrate around in my chair moving body parts randomly not always in time to the music.
Now for the sneaky part. 
The little blighter videoed me with her webcam.  The page showing my spontaneous contortions in my chair was hidden behind the Youtube video so I was completely unaware of what she was doing.
However, what a great bit of footage to use to advertise my latest self-help book, How to Say No to Sex and other Survival Tips for the Suddenly Single.  After watching me dance, I'm sure you'll agree, I definitely need as much help as I can get!
Enjoy the book trailer and hope it brings a smile to your face!
Cindy

How to Say No to Sex and other survival tips for the suddenly single

Dizzy dentists

Just when you think you're over China...

"Teachers wanted for international school. Sense of humor needed."

When you see this kind of advert then you know that you're in for some potentially tough situations where if you don't laugh, then you might just cry. China is definitely one of those countries where you need that sense of humor. Boy, do you need that sense of humor! Take today for instance. I've had this bothersome tooth for over a year. I avoid going anywhere near the dentist as my medical insurance does not cover dental treatment. Previously, when infection flared up in the tooth, I got over the counter antibiotics - the stuff you need a prescription for in the West, and after a day or so the pain subsided. Well, today the pain flared up again. So much so, that it feels as if someone has taken a chisel and started to chisel away at my cheekbone. In fact, that whole side of my face feels swollen, like I've been punched. (And yes, that has happened to me before so I do know what it feels like!) Teaching nine year olds with toothache is not the most pleasant of experiences. Every little shrill voice seems to jar your nerve endings. Anyway, one of the other teachers happened upon a local Chinese dentist the other day whom he says cleaned his teeth well for a very cheap price. So, after school, grimacing with pain, I made my way to the recommended dentist, only to find that the examination room was filled with workmen of all shapes and sizes, drilling away with giant jackhammers and hammering with hammers. The brand new dental surgery, only open for a fortnight, was already being revamped. Something you see quite often in China. With the deafening noise sending spasms up my swollen cheek, I timidly advanced into the front office which was set out like a little pharmacy. "Drugs," I thought to myself, "Need drugs badly!"

An old man who could have been the dentist, approached me and rattled out a few sentences in Chinese, which I completely failed to understand. "Ting boo dong," I replied, wincing with pain as the jackhammers hammered away in the background. That mean that I don't understand. The old man smiled revealing severely rotting brown and grey teeth. I hoped that he wasn't the dentist, as obviously, he'd never done any work on his own teeth. It turned out that the old man could write English, even though he couldn't speak it, so he wrote down for me that the dental surgery would be re-opening on Sunday. "Mmmmm, mmmmm...," I moaned holding my cheek in pain, hoping that if he noticed I was in pain then he'd be able to give me some drugs. The old man smiled at me and nodded, opening his desk drawer he removed a slightly grubby flashlight covered in oily fingerprints. He then reached inside his drawer again and removed a chopstick. He opened his mouth with the grey brown teeth, signalling to me that I must open mine, which I dutifully did. I'm not sure if it was because my common-sense was dulled by the pain. He used the chopstick as a tongue supresser and peered into my mouth, with one of his nurses holding the flashlight and shining the light into my mouth cavity. He nodded to himself and wrote out a script in Chinese and gave it to the other nurse who fetched me some medication. Three boxes, I seriously hoped that one had pain meds in it. "P-R-N," he said slowly in heavily accented English, pointing to where he had written exactly that on the box. He picked up the next box and read what he'd written, "B-I-D," he said slowly. I was confused. I had no idea what the old man was talking about. "T-I-D," he said as he pointed to his writing on the third box. Having lived in China for three years and asia for four, it took a while before I figured out what he meant. P-R-N meant only take when you have pain. T-I-D meant three times a day. B-I-D means twice a day. Don't ask me how I figured that out, but he nodded vigorously when I repeated that to him.

The medical encounters are just one of the things that makes China, China. The other is split pants. I have an aversion to split pants, probably because I've twice been in Walmart and seen toddlers pee through their split pants all over the bottom of the trolley and drip urine all over onto the floor. The mothers just laughed and carried on walking. I was aghast, when I glanced back and saw other people happily pushing their trolleys through the pee, spreading it all over the shop floor. Then, when you walk on the streets, you often see people holding babies and toddlers over the gutter or rubbish bins and letting the babies poo through their split pants. Then again, there is the hoiking, another personal favorite. Wherever you go in China, you continuously hear people hoik as they clear the mucous from their throats and spit it wherever. On the ground, in the ashtray on the table next to you in the Italian Restaurant, on a plane, and then of course - on my motorbike seat! The pollution is also something to grab you. Permanent smoggy skies, sore throats and often funny metallic tastes in your mouth. The list goes on.

But why, you may ask, besides the money, why do expats go and live in a place like China? I have to say that there is something about experiencing a different culture and traveling around and seeing amazing centuries old sights. My first year I though everything was wonderful. The second year you tend to see more of the negative that the rosecolored glasses of your first year hid from you. By the third year you are over the wonders of the new culture and start to get easily irritated. then you know, it's probably the best time to move on to new adventures, see new sights, experience a different culture. When I looked at my fake terracotta warriors already in their shipping cases, the piles of packing boxes delivered by the relocation company yesterday, I felt a little sad. China has been frustrating, irritating, but at the same time beautiful and magnificent. The great wall is definitely a once in a lifetime experience, something that should be on everyone's bucket list. The fact that the Oasis concert I was going to in three weeks' time has been cancelled because the Chinese Government refuses to give them a visa because they played in a Free Tibet concert in 1997, is one of the frustrating things of living in China. However, the friends you make who hail from so many different countries, and the wonderful memories you've made together, the fantastic times you've had - all make living the expat life a very rewarding and enjoyable experience. Even in a country like China.