汉语桥比赛－The Chinese Bridge Competition

Hai mum and dad,

Oh boy we've finally made it. I know this is a long overdue post, but I'll explain why it took so long in just a minute. I'll have to say that I've been thinking about how to write this specific post for the greater part of a month now, and I know I should have written something in between the last post and this one, but to be frank, there was nothing else to write about at the time.

So here's why I made you wait:

From around October of 2016 to last Saturday (4/22) I have been painstakingly learning a sport called 飞叉 (fei cha), where you take a trident and perform tricks by rolling it down your arms and throwing it in the air.

Traditionally, this sport was a ritual performed for Chinese funeral processions. The trident has two small symbols on it which make a loud jinging sound as you roll the trident down your arm and spin it in the air. It was adopted into Beijing Opera as the main weapon of the Golden Panther, a role I was going to play if I wanted to learn the damn thing. Here's what it looks like when someone who knows what they're doing gives it a go.

I could watch that all day to be honest. 

Over the past few months I've come a long way. I started out not having the slightest idea what I was doing, learning quickly but barely able to throw the trident.

I eventually got to a point where I could finally start doing something, and oh boy was I proud of myself, even with my form being completely off.

But I kept practicing, for about an hour a day nearly every day. The shaft is made of wood so there are scars on my arms, and I bled on my trident on multiple occasions. Also, when I finally started to get it right, I ended up breaking my nose..

I eventually got to a point where I could perform, and so they had me perform for the Confucius Institute day at the local mall. Unfortunately all I have is a picture of me after the performance but..

I practiced so much that I had to carry the trident around with me on campus every day. I know I've ended up on snapchat multiple times during practice, some days whole crowds gathered around to watch me practice for a while. 

All this was leading up to something. Something I had to do one more time.

What's that?

Well remember when I used to do this?

Yeah I learned these two things for the same reason. Or maybe it's the other way around. Allow me to explain. There is a Chinese competition called Hanyu Qiao, or the Chinese Bridge. During this competition talented Chinese learners give a speech in Chinese and then show off one of their talents that has something to do with Chinese culture. Last time I played an instrument called the 古筝 (Guzheng) or Chinese Zither, and I gave a speech about how we should all come together as a people and that there truly are no borders. 

I didn't place.

Afterwards I drove what should have been a three hour drive in fine weather that turned into an 8 hour drive through a freak April blizzard, trapped in over a foot of snow in a traffic jam for three hours. That semester I had by that point had a 3.2 GPA and was preparing for a long Optics exam and a Differential equations exam with a small pile of homework. 

If you remember this was the week I had the panic attack that actually brought me to Binghamton in the first place. Ever since that week I have been struggling more than ever to get back to where I was. I went to plenty bad places and good ones. A lot happened, some of which I'm not too happy about, and my GPA has barely recovered since.

But here I am a few years later in good spirits, more motivated, hard working, and magnitudes healthier than I ever was, despite smoking for a living...

This year I gave a speech too, about the bridges of Beijing. I'm not going to lie, I didn't write it, nor did I want to spend hours reciting it over and over and over.

But I was told that I would not be able to learn how to spin the trident unless I practiced the speech. I did this competition to learn a unique skill, and if I won, or placed, then at least I got an added bonus.

Here's a bit of me giving that speech.

I can't say I wanted to win. I wanted to give a show with my trident. But I can't say I didn't want to win either. There's always a boost for your ego in winning something, anything, especially for those who've really never won anything at all.

So when I was rushed into the side room, stripped and changed, face panted I was ready to go, and I rushed. As a result of rushing myself I dropped it... twice, but I picked it up and continued without much hesitation.

Afterwards I sat around for a while and watched the other contestants perform at the higher levels. Though I may be proficient in Chinese, I've really only formally taken four Chinese classes and studied for roughly two years with an entire year spent not speaking the language at all. As a result, I was placed in the beginner level.

The contestants were all very talented Chinese speakers. Most of them quite nervous and very few of them had flashy performances.

This is one of the second place winners. I liked his pants.

The guy from my school that I came to the competition with (it was in Boston by the way) was here for his third time and in anticipation for his first first place award.

His performance was fantastic, overshadowing mine in its flawlessness. Luckily for me he was placed in the advanced section, so I wasn't competing with him.

Here's a bit of his performances.

And so after all the performances we had lunch, and I talked to a beautiful Chinese student about various things while mad at my teachers for forcing me to keep the face paint on until after the award ceremony.

And after we ate we got dressed again and waited for our names to be called.

I was excited for it to be finally over, and filled with anxiety, afraid that I might be contractually obligated to go to China and miss my brother's wedding, I remember saying to myself "don't pick me" over and over.

But in the end my name was called and I went up to the stage, in a silly panther suit.

I was handed a trophy and a certificate. 

Third place.

Not bad.

I was calm and contented, but then I noticed someone else in my level got third place, two others actually, and then I noticed that several people got second place too, and when everyone was called up and they were announcing my companion as one of the three first place winners (congratulations again Daniel!) I took a count of all the people on the stage.

One... two.... twenty-two... twenty-Everyone. 

Everyone was given a trophy. 

The reality is, I lost, and was given an object that said congratulations on it, as if I had won.

Let me tell you something, something honest, I didn't want to win, and I'm sure that showed in my performance, I just wanted to try it once more. I'm sure I had performed horribly. In fact I really must have. I'd be happy to say so, to be honest in my failure. Losing was something I'd be happy with, had they not given me a trophy.

And if my score was high enough for third place, it is deeply unfair to me to have others be given a trophy for third place as well, having not actually earned it.

In fact, to me, there is nothing more insulting than the idea that everybody wins.

I am sorry, but in life everybody does not win. I can just now off the top of my head think of at least ten people I know very well who definitely did not win in life, life chewed them up and spat them out over and over and now they're up to their chins in kids and debt, and they're some of the happiest people I know, some of the biggest winners I know; they're the kind of people hardened by repetitive loss and a life spent going nowhere. Olympians only get gold silver and bronze, and only three of them are given, everyone else lost, but should be proud to be an olympic athlete; they're the people hardened by loss and motivated to continue pushing forward until they win..

And so, I had on my face a visible expression, one I was fighting as hard as I could, an expression that showed that I was deeply insulted. 

Proud of my work? Absolutely. Happy I went? Quite. But Insulted. Why? because I cannot be proud of my accomplishment, out of hundreds of contestants I was one of twenty or so people chosen to stand forward and show my abilities, and yet I cannot take pride in that any more, it was stripped away by that trophy. 

I was standing on stage in a panther costume with a trophy that really didn't mean anything at all. Unbelievably awkward, I must say.

I sound like a sore loser, but I'm not, I'm actually proud to say I lost, I really lost. I lost hard. And that should only motivate me to move forward, and it does. It is clear to me now more than ever to work harder at studying these languages, because the real competition was being able to get there, but maybe I can do bigger, better things. It's clear that my Chinese is good, and that I can regularly have conversations entirely in Chinese. 

But it is time for me, motivated by losing, to step forward and make sure that the next time I choose to put my skills on the line, it will mean winning or losing, and I will succeed.

I may never attend that competition again, but I will work on my failures, my faults, my disabilities, as real winners do.

Love,

-Alexander