Let me finish it off today. I have been delaying and delaying this post for no reason. Right now I am very tired, but I am determined to not go to sleep until 10pm (to get over the jet lag). So let me just write a little bit.
Every time I travelled back home, I would be touched by people and events. Besides, I had time to think, to reflect, to self-analyze, not like when I am in states where everything is in fast tempo and I tried to convince myself not to overthinking. Some people might call it inspiration. I tend not to think that way.
Yuphen and I began to fight over small things soon after our best time. I still did not figure out why. It was as if both of us wanted the relationship to be somewhat dramatic so that we refused the life's inherited mediocrity. Fighting seemed to spice things up, getting both of us emotionally attached, happy and sorrow, like roller-coaster. What can beat the sweetness of make-up after a big fight?
However, at least for me, the fightings were chipping away the foundation of our relationship. I got very exhausted. I expected relationship to be epically exciting, but soon I realized it was too much for me. Besides, my self-insecurity got the best of me.
I all along knew Yuphen was almost as tall as me. One day I was sorting through party membership application or something and found Yuphen's application. It turned out that she was 4-5 cm taller than me. I did not feel that when we walked together, but in retrospect, she probably wore flat-shoes and slumped her back, as she liked to do. It was a big deal for me then, because all of a sudden I felt I lost the relationship already. I was quite depressed. You know I used to have this habit: when I stressed out, I would write trash on a piece of scrap paper. Yuphen happened to see some of them (as a young couple in love, we shared almost anything). So I confessed. I think she understood me, but she did not think that was a big deal. I, as silly as I was, began to exercise jumps, because urban legend has it that jumping makes a taller person. Accidentally, my physical fitness started from there. I am still a very good jumper in my beloved modern dance. Even when I jog, I tend to jump quite high, not because it is efficient, but just because I can.
That was a small incident, but you can see that my immaturity and self-doubt isn't made for a stable relationship. And finally, we seemed to run out of topics. As all the small jokes and smart talks ran out, we (at least I) realized that the relationship did not really have a good foundation to begin with. I admired her for her elegance, for her hard-working, for her kindness, and she probably like some of my traits. But is that enough? I did not think so then. For a while, I was very annoyed by her obsessiveness, as if it reminded me my worst time with my parents and my Niangniang. My longing for freedom just could not take a back seat, and I thought that might be enough.
The turning point was really around summer, as I realized that I did not think of her as much as the past winter when I was pursuing her liek crasy. Five of my friends visited Beijing with me, and Yuphen and us hanged out a little bit. Our relationship recovered a bit, because now we had a new set of common friends, which meaned some new topics. But it did not last long. On September, I told her I wanted to break up with her. Three days later, I registered for GRE, and the rest is history.
I think the breaking-up was a big shock for her. Since I was quite an introvert person, she probably did not see any signs of its coming. It probably hurt her more than it did to me. But to be honest, it also deeply cut into my self-righteousness. For a while, I had doubt whether I was a good person. That year, when I watched the movie "Saving Private Ryan", when Tom Hanks' charactor stood in front of tombs and asked, "Am I a good person?" my tears were almost non-stoppable in the darkness. I think I related to the movie in a really strange way: when either option is bad, does choosing the more intuitive way makes you a bad person? Since that day, whenever I do something, I have never escaped from asking myself, "Am I a good person?" This question is especially troublesome when I realize what's best for me is not necessarily best for my family. Usually I will just do whatever is best for me, always leaving me with this moral burden to carry.
After the break-up, we promised to still remain friends. But it was harder than we hoped. Today, 8 years after, me still single, she just married. I think we are friends now. Coincidentally, when I peeked at her blog written a couple of days ago, she had a similar sentence "Yes! We are friends!" Just to make it even, I hope she would also some day read this blog of mine. This is my side of story, and I hope very much it is fair for her too.
Of course, I cannot do a full disclosure of the complete chronicles. Some of the events are too small, some of the events are silly and some of them are even embarrassing for me or for her. Just in case Yuphen will be reading this blog, however, I want to make an appointment with her. Some day we should share both sides of the story as much as possible, because I still have some silly things to tell. They are so silly that you will have to laugh at, have to puzzle over, and have to admire what a beautiful thing the young love is.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
My parents
I think I know my parents very little, because I did not live with them too much. I probably put most I knew in my previous blog entries about them already. However, the good thing is that I am knowing them more and more. As I gained the financial indepednence and called my own shots all the time, they began to let down their guard and allowed me to peek into their psychology. Also, as I understand human relationship better than before, they can barely escape my scrutiny. By the way, this blog is in no way to criticize or evaluate them. Rather, I try to describe who they are.
First of all, my parents like to save money. It made evolutionary sense, because the past always left traits on you, genetically or mentally. My parents used to be quite poor. After the reform, they were not able to take new economic opportunities and were further left behind. They just purchased an apartment with all their savings, so they felt even poorer. If I gave them some money, they would just save it, feeling happy and peaceful with the money in the bank. I sometimes felt bad for them, but well, the life style could not be changed over night. It actually took me a while to feel comfortable spending money beyond necessities. Like father, like son.
My parents are not good at parenting (according to US standards, of course). Now my sister has this daughter, and it kept my parents occupied. I think my parents must be very lonely before. The little girl really could cheer them up. However, my parents often like to yell at the girl, or do things against her will (I still remember that my dad used to like wipe my face with a hot towel after meal. I did not hate the hot towel, but I hated to allow other people to dictate my schedule and habits). My mom barely smiled at her (to be fair, after the stroke, my mom rarely smiled at all), and my dad was always impatient. When the little girl cried, my dad would tune himself out by murmuring words to himself, as if by talking to himself, the crying no longer bothered him. Fortunately, my brother-in-law is a great father, so the little girl actually is doing quite well. One day last week, my mom commented on my dad, "you are more patient to her than to Songhua before." My dad said, "yeah, that's because I was not retired that time." I said to myself silent, oh my god, I was lucky that I did not grew up with you two. Hey, no hard feeling.
I can tell my parents are getting older. My dad gained some weight, and my mom walked even slower. The new apartment is on the first floor, and it gave my mom a very hard time. I feel bad for that. My dad did not get the visa earlier this year, and that might be a downer for him. But overall, my going abroad worked out great for them. Hear me out, because I do not believe that is my self-rationalization. At least for my dad, now he had a lot of events to attend and also was learning English. He had a lot of "mianzi" because I am earning dollars. And some bastards who would otherwise never give a shit to a nobody like my dad now tried to maintain good relationship with him, just in case that their children need to go to the States and need me to take care of them a bit. For my mom, she would otherwise worried me so much if I was around (jobs, money, girfriend, marriage, children), but now she only need to worry maybe once a while, as her target son is so far away as if the worry no longer felt real any more.
My parents are very responsible and not very selfish at all. They take care of Niangniang very well (though sometimes they do not want to spend too much money). They have a great attitude towards life and death. I was surprised to hear that they can discuss their parents' death with great ease, as if they were talking about a TV pregram. it could be their emotional detachment, but it also could be that they tried to desensitize me with the topic so that a possible Niangniang passing away would not be a big blow to me. I would like to thank them if their intention is the latter.
As I know better, I try harder to keep them happy. For example, this time I made an effort to stay at home for meals as much as possible. That makes them happy. But overall, I viewed them as distant, and they viewed me as distant too. One night, they came in my room and asked about my new job. I was not very interested in talking about it, so I just kept doing my work and whatever. They ended up talking between themselves for twenty minutes and then left. I think I am a bad son.
Two final thoughts:
1. When I was in Shanghai yesterday, my friend tried to analyze my personality. I think he is right by saying that I have a combination of liberal individualism and moral self-righturousness (I summarized it with my own words). I think the individualism is because I grew up with my grandparents, but the morality, honesty, responsibleness are probably from my parents. If that is true, I really get the best of both worlds.
2. For some reasons, I really want to have a boy myself now. It is difficult to be a parent. I do not think my parents are good at parenting, but maybe I am just being hypocritical here. Though I do not know when I can prove it one way or another.
First of all, my parents like to save money. It made evolutionary sense, because the past always left traits on you, genetically or mentally. My parents used to be quite poor. After the reform, they were not able to take new economic opportunities and were further left behind. They just purchased an apartment with all their savings, so they felt even poorer. If I gave them some money, they would just save it, feeling happy and peaceful with the money in the bank. I sometimes felt bad for them, but well, the life style could not be changed over night. It actually took me a while to feel comfortable spending money beyond necessities. Like father, like son.
My parents are not good at parenting (according to US standards, of course). Now my sister has this daughter, and it kept my parents occupied. I think my parents must be very lonely before. The little girl really could cheer them up. However, my parents often like to yell at the girl, or do things against her will (I still remember that my dad used to like wipe my face with a hot towel after meal. I did not hate the hot towel, but I hated to allow other people to dictate my schedule and habits). My mom barely smiled at her (to be fair, after the stroke, my mom rarely smiled at all), and my dad was always impatient. When the little girl cried, my dad would tune himself out by murmuring words to himself, as if by talking to himself, the crying no longer bothered him. Fortunately, my brother-in-law is a great father, so the little girl actually is doing quite well. One day last week, my mom commented on my dad, "you are more patient to her than to Songhua before." My dad said, "yeah, that's because I was not retired that time." I said to myself silent, oh my god, I was lucky that I did not grew up with you two. Hey, no hard feeling.
I can tell my parents are getting older. My dad gained some weight, and my mom walked even slower. The new apartment is on the first floor, and it gave my mom a very hard time. I feel bad for that. My dad did not get the visa earlier this year, and that might be a downer for him. But overall, my going abroad worked out great for them. Hear me out, because I do not believe that is my self-rationalization. At least for my dad, now he had a lot of events to attend and also was learning English. He had a lot of "mianzi" because I am earning dollars. And some bastards who would otherwise never give a shit to a nobody like my dad now tried to maintain good relationship with him, just in case that their children need to go to the States and need me to take care of them a bit. For my mom, she would otherwise worried me so much if I was around (jobs, money, girfriend, marriage, children), but now she only need to worry maybe once a while, as her target son is so far away as if the worry no longer felt real any more.
My parents are very responsible and not very selfish at all. They take care of Niangniang very well (though sometimes they do not want to spend too much money). They have a great attitude towards life and death. I was surprised to hear that they can discuss their parents' death with great ease, as if they were talking about a TV pregram. it could be their emotional detachment, but it also could be that they tried to desensitize me with the topic so that a possible Niangniang passing away would not be a big blow to me. I would like to thank them if their intention is the latter.
As I know better, I try harder to keep them happy. For example, this time I made an effort to stay at home for meals as much as possible. That makes them happy. But overall, I viewed them as distant, and they viewed me as distant too. One night, they came in my room and asked about my new job. I was not very interested in talking about it, so I just kept doing my work and whatever. They ended up talking between themselves for twenty minutes and then left. I think I am a bad son.
Two final thoughts:
1. When I was in Shanghai yesterday, my friend tried to analyze my personality. I think he is right by saying that I have a combination of liberal individualism and moral self-righturousness (I summarized it with my own words). I think the individualism is because I grew up with my grandparents, but the morality, honesty, responsibleness are probably from my parents. If that is true, I really get the best of both worlds.
2. For some reasons, I really want to have a boy myself now. It is difficult to be a parent. I do not think my parents are good at parenting, but maybe I am just being hypocritical here. Though I do not know when I can prove it one way or another.
Niangniang (II)
The whole purpose of this trip was really to see Niangniang for the last time. Though I do not like to admit that to my family, as if saying that would make it real. Niangniang is in a bad shape. She does not have any serious disease, but the body of 86 years old is just like an old machine produce by a state-owned enterprise: once it began to break down, it usually was beyond repair.
Over fives days in my hometown, I went to see her 4 times in the nursing home. Her hair all grey. She had a hard time walking around. She was cold all the time. So skinny that her facial skin barely covered her skull. I had a hard time to holding back my tears. Just imagine that she used to be my greatest protector, but now she will sway in a breeze. But I did not cry. I do not know the reason, but I just did not want to cry in front of her.
I only cried in the darkness in bed during the night before my last visit to her. My mind was like a theatre and my past ran on the stage, every scene with my Niangniang in her younger age. Sometimes she went to the farmer's market for a day's dish, sometimes she help me to fend off school bullies, sometimes she game me money to buy comic books...... I think I got a little sick the second day: my throat felt like burning. Well, maybe it was not because of my cry (I took a run around the town the same night and then took a cold shower). But whatever. Hey, It is my blog, and I make causal connections.
Niangniang now have very bad memories. She will forget things she did a minute ago. I feel very sorry about it, because she has been very proud of her independence all along. Now this pride is eroding, and I can see her giving up to the fate. She knows that her memory is bad, and still struggle to get an up-hand. For example, she wrote a note of "take medicine". Before she has meal, she will ritually take a bowl with bottles of medicine and then cover them with the note. That way, after she finishes the meal, she will be notified that she needs to take the medicine. However, what if she memory goes further downhill so that she would forget the note itself? I feel the day is coming, and I hope my Niangniang will not suffer too much.
She can hardly read the clock any more. She will try to look at the watch, and count the number from one to twelve. If the time is around 11 or 12, she might get a chance to tell the time. Otherwise, she would try to count again, knowing that it is not around 11 or 12, but just cannot tell what time it is.
I also noticed that her watch looked familiar. It turned out that she old watch went bad, and my parents gave her my old watch, the watch that accompanied me throughout high school and college. It still worked fine on her wrist, except that her wrist is so skinny now that the watch hung like a big necklace from her wrist. Before I hopped on bus out of my hometown on Friday, I told my parents, "If my Niangniang passes away, please leave the watch for me, as a memory." I intentionally told them that one second before I checked into the bus station, so that they could not scrutinize my face for any signs of pessimism. I just hopped on the bus. I could not have any conversations about the topic of Niangniang passing away. Rationally, I know it is coming, but mentally, I am still in denial.
One day when I was in her place, I noticed that one type of her medicine ran out. I asked her whether she had supplies somewhere, she said yes, but could not find it. I told her that I would get some for her in the in-house pharmacy. She tried to stop me, but I insisted. She gave up easily (she would've struggled more before), as if the weakened body also diminished her determination. I took her card, and ready to get some medicine. All of a suddenly, I experienced the strongest urge of dropping tears. I quickly walked out and rushed to the pharmacy. My thoughts were all about my childhood, when was sick all the time, and it was Niangniang who always accompanied me. When I was checked into hospital for my bloody dump, my Niangniang literally lived in the hospital as well. When I broke my arm bones, Niangniang walked me all around the town in the middle of the night and eventually went to a doctor's home and waked her up to fix my arm. And now it was my turn to get medicine for her, just for one day, because I would be gone in a week...... I think I am very easy to feel guilty. I think I should, but Niangniang (also my parents, my sister, etc.) often thought I already did a lot for her. That's only add to my guilt, as if I am taking those cheap shots to filfill my moral ego, only leaving old folks at home to run for their own life.
In the morning of the last day, I needed to get some software for my old laptop that I left for my brother-in-law. Out of the store, I saw the famous cathlic church in my hometown. Though an athiest, I walked in. It was an okey church, but it had an ugly Juses sculpture in the front: Two angeles descented from the heaven, holding a crown to put on the head of Jesus. I do not know why, but I just thought it was silly. I was the only one in the church hall. I picked a front seat, sat down, held my hands together to touch my jaw, and said probably the first prayer of my whole life. It was about my family. Of course, nothing changed afterwords. No enlightment, so spiritual connections, just like what I expected. I told myself, "That's great. If I had've felt releaved, what a selfish bastard I am to use religion to serve my own well-being?!" However, there might be a slightest spark of thought that I do not want to write off here: If there is some advanced being who wants to go against all my disbelief and want to filfill my wishes, that's not bad as well. With that, I head to visit Niangniang for the last time.
I was afraid that I would eventually snap during my last visit, but to my surprise, I was extremely calm. I planned it all along. I got a nice blanket and some health products. I understood that, even though she might not need to want them, it is important to pile up stuff for her. If I understood correctly, nursing home was just like a kindergarden. Everyone had their territory and property. Although no one admits, they are comparing with each other all the time. I need to buy things just so she can brag about her "overseas grandson". That's few things she has now, and that's few things that I can do. I got there with my gifts, and she was quite receptive. She then compainted about a winter clothes, because she could not operate a zipper consistently. I told her that I would bring it back home so my mom could get a tailor to change it into buttoms. I asked her to take several pictures with her roommate and the nurse. I also shot some video of her without her notice. I guess that way I would also have her voice and movement. It was time to go. She insisted to walk me in the aisle. I stopped her in the end and hugged her. Her voice got cranky, and I held her hand, "good bye, and take care." Then I walked away. After she turned back, I walked back too, taking the last video shot of her back slowing walking away, stopped several times to take a breath, and finally disappeared into her little room. I felt this last shot was a little cruel. She did not know I was there, so she did not take out her best effort walking. In fact, she looked even older, her back slumped as if there was unbearable weight over her. That is a video shot that I doubt I would ever want to watch. I just want to keep it in my archive, because metaphorically, it is very important to me, because Niangniang soon will walk out of my life, just like she slowly walked out of the video frames.
That's almost all I want to say about Niangniang for now. However, please do not take away the point that she was a perfect grandma. No, she was not. She was sometimes overreaching into other people's business, liked gossiping, sometimes selfish (at least selfish for her loved ones), stubborn, did not get along well with other people, picky, etc. Not surprisingly, I shared very similar flaws with hers, as 18 years living together really molded my personality.
However, that's not the point. The point is: just like every kid knows, a gift does not need to be perfect in order to be a great gift. Niangniang is probably the greatest gift I have had so far in my life: it is a package of love and flaws, a combo of repressive experience and sweet memory, a lifetime of struggling with me and caring for me. It is a gift that I am almost too late to say "thank you" before I have to say "good bye"......
Over fives days in my hometown, I went to see her 4 times in the nursing home. Her hair all grey. She had a hard time walking around. She was cold all the time. So skinny that her facial skin barely covered her skull. I had a hard time to holding back my tears. Just imagine that she used to be my greatest protector, but now she will sway in a breeze. But I did not cry. I do not know the reason, but I just did not want to cry in front of her.
I only cried in the darkness in bed during the night before my last visit to her. My mind was like a theatre and my past ran on the stage, every scene with my Niangniang in her younger age. Sometimes she went to the farmer's market for a day's dish, sometimes she help me to fend off school bullies, sometimes she game me money to buy comic books...... I think I got a little sick the second day: my throat felt like burning. Well, maybe it was not because of my cry (I took a run around the town the same night and then took a cold shower). But whatever. Hey, It is my blog, and I make causal connections.
Niangniang now have very bad memories. She will forget things she did a minute ago. I feel very sorry about it, because she has been very proud of her independence all along. Now this pride is eroding, and I can see her giving up to the fate. She knows that her memory is bad, and still struggle to get an up-hand. For example, she wrote a note of "take medicine". Before she has meal, she will ritually take a bowl with bottles of medicine and then cover them with the note. That way, after she finishes the meal, she will be notified that she needs to take the medicine. However, what if she memory goes further downhill so that she would forget the note itself? I feel the day is coming, and I hope my Niangniang will not suffer too much.
She can hardly read the clock any more. She will try to look at the watch, and count the number from one to twelve. If the time is around 11 or 12, she might get a chance to tell the time. Otherwise, she would try to count again, knowing that it is not around 11 or 12, but just cannot tell what time it is.
I also noticed that her watch looked familiar. It turned out that she old watch went bad, and my parents gave her my old watch, the watch that accompanied me throughout high school and college. It still worked fine on her wrist, except that her wrist is so skinny now that the watch hung like a big necklace from her wrist. Before I hopped on bus out of my hometown on Friday, I told my parents, "If my Niangniang passes away, please leave the watch for me, as a memory." I intentionally told them that one second before I checked into the bus station, so that they could not scrutinize my face for any signs of pessimism. I just hopped on the bus. I could not have any conversations about the topic of Niangniang passing away. Rationally, I know it is coming, but mentally, I am still in denial.
One day when I was in her place, I noticed that one type of her medicine ran out. I asked her whether she had supplies somewhere, she said yes, but could not find it. I told her that I would get some for her in the in-house pharmacy. She tried to stop me, but I insisted. She gave up easily (she would've struggled more before), as if the weakened body also diminished her determination. I took her card, and ready to get some medicine. All of a suddenly, I experienced the strongest urge of dropping tears. I quickly walked out and rushed to the pharmacy. My thoughts were all about my childhood, when was sick all the time, and it was Niangniang who always accompanied me. When I was checked into hospital for my bloody dump, my Niangniang literally lived in the hospital as well. When I broke my arm bones, Niangniang walked me all around the town in the middle of the night and eventually went to a doctor's home and waked her up to fix my arm. And now it was my turn to get medicine for her, just for one day, because I would be gone in a week...... I think I am very easy to feel guilty. I think I should, but Niangniang (also my parents, my sister, etc.) often thought I already did a lot for her. That's only add to my guilt, as if I am taking those cheap shots to filfill my moral ego, only leaving old folks at home to run for their own life.
In the morning of the last day, I needed to get some software for my old laptop that I left for my brother-in-law. Out of the store, I saw the famous cathlic church in my hometown. Though an athiest, I walked in. It was an okey church, but it had an ugly Juses sculpture in the front: Two angeles descented from the heaven, holding a crown to put on the head of Jesus. I do not know why, but I just thought it was silly. I was the only one in the church hall. I picked a front seat, sat down, held my hands together to touch my jaw, and said probably the first prayer of my whole life. It was about my family. Of course, nothing changed afterwords. No enlightment, so spiritual connections, just like what I expected. I told myself, "That's great. If I had've felt releaved, what a selfish bastard I am to use religion to serve my own well-being?!" However, there might be a slightest spark of thought that I do not want to write off here: If there is some advanced being who wants to go against all my disbelief and want to filfill my wishes, that's not bad as well. With that, I head to visit Niangniang for the last time.
I was afraid that I would eventually snap during my last visit, but to my surprise, I was extremely calm. I planned it all along. I got a nice blanket and some health products. I understood that, even though she might not need to want them, it is important to pile up stuff for her. If I understood correctly, nursing home was just like a kindergarden. Everyone had their territory and property. Although no one admits, they are comparing with each other all the time. I need to buy things just so she can brag about her "overseas grandson". That's few things she has now, and that's few things that I can do. I got there with my gifts, and she was quite receptive. She then compainted about a winter clothes, because she could not operate a zipper consistently. I told her that I would bring it back home so my mom could get a tailor to change it into buttoms. I asked her to take several pictures with her roommate and the nurse. I also shot some video of her without her notice. I guess that way I would also have her voice and movement. It was time to go. She insisted to walk me in the aisle. I stopped her in the end and hugged her. Her voice got cranky, and I held her hand, "good bye, and take care." Then I walked away. After she turned back, I walked back too, taking the last video shot of her back slowing walking away, stopped several times to take a breath, and finally disappeared into her little room. I felt this last shot was a little cruel. She did not know I was there, so she did not take out her best effort walking. In fact, she looked even older, her back slumped as if there was unbearable weight over her. That is a video shot that I doubt I would ever want to watch. I just want to keep it in my archive, because metaphorically, it is very important to me, because Niangniang soon will walk out of my life, just like she slowly walked out of the video frames.
That's almost all I want to say about Niangniang for now. However, please do not take away the point that she was a perfect grandma. No, she was not. She was sometimes overreaching into other people's business, liked gossiping, sometimes selfish (at least selfish for her loved ones), stubborn, did not get along well with other people, picky, etc. Not surprisingly, I shared very similar flaws with hers, as 18 years living together really molded my personality.
However, that's not the point. The point is: just like every kid knows, a gift does not need to be perfect in order to be a great gift. Niangniang is probably the greatest gift I have had so far in my life: it is a package of love and flaws, a combo of repressive experience and sweet memory, a lifetime of struggling with me and caring for me. It is a gift that I am almost too late to say "thank you" before I have to say "good bye"......
I am back!
I came back from China this morning. Still felt a little jet-lagged, but I am going to hang on until 10pm tonight before I hit the sack. It was a great trip back home. I think I have a couple of great blog entries in my sleeves. The plan: 1. an entry about my Niangniang. 2) finish off the third part of my friend Yuphen. 3) my family. 4) Maybe a couple of my friends.
But before I go on, I want to acknowledge one of my recent readers. I used Google Analytics to keep track on the readership. Since this blog is all about full disclosure, I want to let you know that I know you are from Cambridge, MA and you are reading a lot in the past week. That's all I know. All I hope for is that my life sounds interesting in this blog to make your time worthwhile.
But before I go on, I want to acknowledge one of my recent readers. I used Google Analytics to keep track on the readership. Since this blog is all about full disclosure, I want to let you know that I know you are from Cambridge, MA and you are reading a lot in the past week. That's all I know. All I hope for is that my life sounds interesting in this blog to make your time worthwhile.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Heading to China
So I will leave for China in two days. I think I need to bring quite some work with me in this trip.
So I finally let the rat go. I put it in a plastic drawer. Had to change water and food at least once a day. It was too much work for me already. Bisides, it made my room smell pretty bad. So I put it in the backyard and let it go. I believe it have been the dinner of a wild cat already. The law of nature, I think.
I commute to SF once every week to consult with that company that sells dog accessary. It is not a bad job at all. They actually are willing to counter-offer me a job, probably with a base salary higher than the one I have got. I will not take it. Maybe one day I will regret if it becomes the microsoft of the dog world one day.
My teaching is almost winding down. I have one last lecture on Nov 27, and then I have student presentations in the last three sessions. It was a fun experience. However, I do feel that social science majors attract some lazy-ass students who regard a techie major too harsh a reality. Also there are some kiss-ups.
And finally, the election. My department has a game of election prediction. Amazingly, I picked the whole senate correctly and bet that democrats will take 230 house seats (right now, democrats have 230, and still 9 undecided). So I easily win the pool, a total of 25 dollars. I guess I know American politics pretty well, plus some damn luck.
So I finally let the rat go. I put it in a plastic drawer. Had to change water and food at least once a day. It was too much work for me already. Bisides, it made my room smell pretty bad. So I put it in the backyard and let it go. I believe it have been the dinner of a wild cat already. The law of nature, I think.
I commute to SF once every week to consult with that company that sells dog accessary. It is not a bad job at all. They actually are willing to counter-offer me a job, probably with a base salary higher than the one I have got. I will not take it. Maybe one day I will regret if it becomes the microsoft of the dog world one day.
My teaching is almost winding down. I have one last lecture on Nov 27, and then I have student presentations in the last three sessions. It was a fun experience. However, I do feel that social science majors attract some lazy-ass students who regard a techie major too harsh a reality. Also there are some kiss-ups.
And finally, the election. My department has a game of election prediction. Amazingly, I picked the whole senate correctly and bet that democrats will take 230 house seats (right now, democrats have 230, and still 9 undecided). So I easily win the pool, a total of 25 dollars. I guess I know American politics pretty well, plus some damn luck.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
A rat!
I found a rat in front of Green Library tonight. I caught it and now it was in my plastic drawer (My rationale is, if I do not get it, it will be eaten by a cat on a Halloween night anyway). I made my ipod box as its bed, some tree branches and landscaping wood as its toy, some water, some pretzel. I hope it will survive.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Iron man
Hi I am officially an iron man now. I still cannot imagine how some people can do it in one day. I finished it in 4 weeks. To really push it, I probably will be able to finish it in a week. But one day? No way! One reason is that running became harder for me. Now I weigh about 10 pounds more than last year. Those body weight makes quite a difference, as if you are running with a ten-pound dumbbell on the waist. On a second thought, I guess that is why I should keep running, to control my weight so that it would not crush myself into a couch potato.
I was in a bike trip with Julia, whom I know during the business summer program. She is very talkative and positive, so I enjoyed the ride with her. Then I went to the city with my best friend (Well, I forgot his psuedo name in my blog entry, so let me just call him the real name here) Victor. We went to a boring Africa America Disapora Musuem and then went to a Chinese restaurant. His son is also my best friend, and he calls me as "soma". I think that's because his home has a cat named "soma", so he took the short-cut. Victor's wife has a job in the city, cataloging some anthropological antique. She is one of the nicest woman I've ever met. She just took her GRE test yesterday. Because after Victor is done with her Ph.D., she is going to take on a Ph.D. degree as well. Their son will must have a hard time to match parental education in the future.
I need to go to bed now. I got up early this morning for the bike ride (6am). When I walked out of the apartment, what did I discover? The amazing morning smell! It's nature's breath that has not been contaminated. I think some how my memory is very much linked to my sense of smell. It brought back some memories about my past, although I do not exactly know what is the memory. I just loved the smell. I will hit the bed now, and try to get up early again.
I was in a bike trip with Julia, whom I know during the business summer program. She is very talkative and positive, so I enjoyed the ride with her. Then I went to the city with my best friend (Well, I forgot his psuedo name in my blog entry, so let me just call him the real name here) Victor. We went to a boring Africa America Disapora Musuem and then went to a Chinese restaurant. His son is also my best friend, and he calls me as "soma". I think that's because his home has a cat named "soma", so he took the short-cut. Victor's wife has a job in the city, cataloging some anthropological antique. She is one of the nicest woman I've ever met. She just took her GRE test yesterday. Because after Victor is done with her Ph.D., she is going to take on a Ph.D. degree as well. Their son will must have a hard time to match parental education in the future.
I need to go to bed now. I got up early this morning for the bike ride (6am). When I walked out of the apartment, what did I discover? The amazing morning smell! It's nature's breath that has not been contaminated. I think some how my memory is very much linked to my sense of smell. It brought back some memories about my past, although I do not exactly know what is the memory. I just loved the smell. I will hit the bed now, and try to get up early again.
Friday, October 27, 2006
So close
3.1 miles run, 0.8 miles swim, 1 mile bike. 2 days to go. So close.
Ready to go home Nov 17-25.
Ready to go home Nov 17-25.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Almost a cardinal iron man
Hi, I am doing the cardinal iron man thing. It is not a intense competition. You sign up, and then just accummulate miles for biking, running and swimming. In the course of 4 weeks, we will self-monitor to finish the whole iron man race: 26.2 miles of running, 112 miles of biking and 2.4 miles of swimming. There are still 3 days to go, and I still need 6.3 miles of running, 1 mile of biking and 1.6 miles of swimming. Statistically, I am a little behind the schedule on running and swimming, but I am on my way to finish it off on Sunday.
What else? Oh, I've started a consulting gig for a SF company, 1-2 days a week. It is a friend's friend. It is a company of pet accessaries, like collars, tees and belts for tiny dogs, stuff that I will never buy myself. They have this massive sales data that they do not know how to analyze. I started the work last week, and tonight I just estimated the sales rates for their 36 products. It can be interpreted like that: If you put the product in 100 retail stores, what precentage of the stores will make a sale on the first day, blah blah, blah. I am quite empowered by my superb skills in Stata and analytical skills in figuring out the algorithms. You better have both.
Oh, finally, who is my computer science class going? Well, I begin to relive my life of feeling like a good student. I haven't had that feeling for almost ten years, as the college classes in social science are always too fuzzy for me to conclude whethere I am doing well. CS class is different, either you get the code right, or you do not. And I have to belong to the crowd that are able to figure out the code. Though time-consuming initially, I think I am absorbing the material really well. A or A+, I would imagine.
What else? Oh, I've started a consulting gig for a SF company, 1-2 days a week. It is a friend's friend. It is a company of pet accessaries, like collars, tees and belts for tiny dogs, stuff that I will never buy myself. They have this massive sales data that they do not know how to analyze. I started the work last week, and tonight I just estimated the sales rates for their 36 products. It can be interpreted like that: If you put the product in 100 retail stores, what precentage of the stores will make a sale on the first day, blah blah, blah. I am quite empowered by my superb skills in Stata and analytical skills in figuring out the algorithms. You better have both.
Oh, finally, who is my computer science class going? Well, I begin to relive my life of feeling like a good student. I haven't had that feeling for almost ten years, as the college classes in social science are always too fuzzy for me to conclude whethere I am doing well. CS class is different, either you get the code right, or you do not. And I have to belong to the crowd that are able to figure out the code. Though time-consuming initially, I think I am absorbing the material really well. A or A+, I would imagine.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Feeling pretty good
Yeah, I know. My recent blogs have been boring. I sorta block my feelings out of the blog and only talk about what I have done in daily life. But who care those things? I guess my readers are more interested in whether my inner-life still experiences turmoil as before, whether I am still the old sensitive self.
To some extent, I still am. No day passes by without me questioning myself, "What's the point?" But then my busy schedule just carried those fleeting thoughts away. I feel lucky that I am surrounded by a bunch of supporting friends. These are the friends to whom I told about my depression about two years ago. It is a little eerie. What if I did not have that episode of depression? Does it mean that I will be friendless now? Seriously, revealing my vulnerability two years ago is still paying dividends. I trust them much, and vice versa (3 of them actually made my friends blog list). A good analogy is gambling. You have to put the ante on the table. If you do not, you are not to win. I was pushed to join the game, and now I see the benefit of being open to friends.
Still no girl in my life. It came so odd. When I break up with Yuphen, I thought the sky was so open that I could meet great girls. Now eight years have passed, and I am still as sexually-deprived as ever. The other day I was attending (actually observing) a campus event called "Full Moon" for the first time (The event is for senior males to kiss freshman girls. But hey, a lot of sketchy graduate student observers). Feel pretty horny (Congressionman Mark Foley, thanks for the term in your scandel. I have to look up the dictionary to know what I mean). It is good to have a girlfriend. I think I am lonely, no matter how much I want to deny it.
Another thing bothering me recently is the health of my Niangniang. I really really want to go back to China this November (I am going to make a decision by this Friday). Think about what she has done for me, there is just nothing I can do to repay that. Yes, my family produced my flaws, but they also prepared myself in facing those flaws and striving ahead. I almost feel that they are a constellation of stars, far away but always watching over my shoulder, emotionally distant but also give me unmatched blessings. What if I lose one of the stars? Well, my life won't change at all. I won't even be emotionally depressed for too long. But I know, once a while, especially when I am lonely, if I look up to the dark sky, I know something is missing. Everything is stil the same, but everything will be different at the same time. That's the irony. So I want to see her before you pass away.
My sensation sometimes will tangle with the past. The other day I saw a butterfly on campus, and I told myself, "It is a deja vu. I saw this before!" I think hard, and then everything is back. I was a kid, with Yaya and Niangniang. We had a garden. In the summer, the small white butterflies were everywhere. And dragonflies too. Yaya planted all sorts of flowers. They were all blossoming. I even saw a humming bird once, I swear. The grape was also growing, and sometimes I found snakes. As Yaya said, snakes liked the the shadow of grape ivies. I took of my sweater and chased the butterflies. When getting close, I wiped it at the butterflies. Their wings would be damaged. I tried to kept them alive in small jars, but they would be all dead within one day. I sometimes also got dragonflies, but they were much harder to catch, as they changed directions rather unpredictably. Sometimes when the butterflies were parking on a flower, I would sneak by and catch it by the wings with my two fingers. My fingers would have those white powders from the wings, and Yaya said it was poisonous....
Damn it! Sometimes I feel that my memory was my burden. I could remember things so vividly that invoking my memory was too costly in my busy schedule. But I know they are always there. My past is my present, and my memory is my treasure. Whenever I feel so out of touch with my folks back at home, one small dose of memory usually is enough to warm my heart and wet my eyes. It reminds that I have been there, lived a life, passed through those amazing people, but never formally said "Thank you". I know, some day, I will shoot a documentary (Have you seen "7 up"? I want to make one like that), or write a book, and I know to whom they will be dedicated.
To some extent, I still am. No day passes by without me questioning myself, "What's the point?" But then my busy schedule just carried those fleeting thoughts away. I feel lucky that I am surrounded by a bunch of supporting friends. These are the friends to whom I told about my depression about two years ago. It is a little eerie. What if I did not have that episode of depression? Does it mean that I will be friendless now? Seriously, revealing my vulnerability two years ago is still paying dividends. I trust them much, and vice versa (3 of them actually made my friends blog list). A good analogy is gambling. You have to put the ante on the table. If you do not, you are not to win. I was pushed to join the game, and now I see the benefit of being open to friends.
Still no girl in my life. It came so odd. When I break up with Yuphen, I thought the sky was so open that I could meet great girls. Now eight years have passed, and I am still as sexually-deprived as ever. The other day I was attending (actually observing) a campus event called "Full Moon" for the first time (The event is for senior males to kiss freshman girls. But hey, a lot of sketchy graduate student observers). Feel pretty horny (Congressionman Mark Foley, thanks for the term in your scandel. I have to look up the dictionary to know what I mean). It is good to have a girlfriend. I think I am lonely, no matter how much I want to deny it.
Another thing bothering me recently is the health of my Niangniang. I really really want to go back to China this November (I am going to make a decision by this Friday). Think about what she has done for me, there is just nothing I can do to repay that. Yes, my family produced my flaws, but they also prepared myself in facing those flaws and striving ahead. I almost feel that they are a constellation of stars, far away but always watching over my shoulder, emotionally distant but also give me unmatched blessings. What if I lose one of the stars? Well, my life won't change at all. I won't even be emotionally depressed for too long. But I know, once a while, especially when I am lonely, if I look up to the dark sky, I know something is missing. Everything is stil the same, but everything will be different at the same time. That's the irony. So I want to see her before you pass away.
My sensation sometimes will tangle with the past. The other day I saw a butterfly on campus, and I told myself, "It is a deja vu. I saw this before!" I think hard, and then everything is back. I was a kid, with Yaya and Niangniang. We had a garden. In the summer, the small white butterflies were everywhere. And dragonflies too. Yaya planted all sorts of flowers. They were all blossoming. I even saw a humming bird once, I swear. The grape was also growing, and sometimes I found snakes. As Yaya said, snakes liked the the shadow of grape ivies. I took of my sweater and chased the butterflies. When getting close, I wiped it at the butterflies. Their wings would be damaged. I tried to kept them alive in small jars, but they would be all dead within one day. I sometimes also got dragonflies, but they were much harder to catch, as they changed directions rather unpredictably. Sometimes when the butterflies were parking on a flower, I would sneak by and catch it by the wings with my two fingers. My fingers would have those white powders from the wings, and Yaya said it was poisonous....
Damn it! Sometimes I feel that my memory was my burden. I could remember things so vividly that invoking my memory was too costly in my busy schedule. But I know they are always there. My past is my present, and my memory is my treasure. Whenever I feel so out of touch with my folks back at home, one small dose of memory usually is enough to warm my heart and wet my eyes. It reminds that I have been there, lived a life, passed through those amazing people, but never formally said "Thank you". I know, some day, I will shoot a documentary (Have you seen "7 up"? I want to make one like that), or write a book, and I know to whom they will be dedicated.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Update
I'd love to give you an update here. Nothing exciting happens though.
Remember that I told you that I had a very bad interview a couple of weeks ago? Well, it turned out to be not bad, as I was invited for an onsite interview scheduled for next week. I am also planning to go back to China during my Thanksgivings holiday. Probably I will be able to see my Niangniang for the last time. Her health is deteriorating very quickly. She does not hear well, and she cannot speak well any more, and she begin to lose track of days. I hope she can hang on for one more months so that I can say good-bye in person.
My class has been well. I had a bad lecture on Monday. I prepared too much materials, so I got nervous. As spoke faster and faster, my English could not catch my thoughts, and my breath could not catch my English. It was pretty aweful. Fortunately, on Wednesday I revamped my approach of the lecture, preparing a little less materials and increased the classroom interaction. I think I did quite well yesterday.
US stock markets are doing very well, so are my mutual funds and my stocks. What stocks I have? I have five: AET, COH, MRH, WMT, MOT. I used to have FDX, AEOS, and XOM, SBL. I got out early with a profit, but I could profit more if I had held on them longer. It is very unpredictable.
I began to take a computer science class this quarter (because I thought I might work for this high-tech company soon). It was very time-consuming, but I think I was born as a natural coder. I think I will eventually excel in that class. Sociology might be the long detour between my career as a techie.
I am going to get my eye examined next week. I am also going to see a dentist very soon. I ate well and slept well. And I know I am going to get quite a few jobs offers by the end of the year.
Remember that I told you that I had a very bad interview a couple of weeks ago? Well, it turned out to be not bad, as I was invited for an onsite interview scheduled for next week. I am also planning to go back to China during my Thanksgivings holiday. Probably I will be able to see my Niangniang for the last time. Her health is deteriorating very quickly. She does not hear well, and she cannot speak well any more, and she begin to lose track of days. I hope she can hang on for one more months so that I can say good-bye in person.
My class has been well. I had a bad lecture on Monday. I prepared too much materials, so I got nervous. As spoke faster and faster, my English could not catch my thoughts, and my breath could not catch my English. It was pretty aweful. Fortunately, on Wednesday I revamped my approach of the lecture, preparing a little less materials and increased the classroom interaction. I think I did quite well yesterday.
US stock markets are doing very well, so are my mutual funds and my stocks. What stocks I have? I have five: AET, COH, MRH, WMT, MOT. I used to have FDX, AEOS, and XOM, SBL. I got out early with a profit, but I could profit more if I had held on them longer. It is very unpredictable.
I began to take a computer science class this quarter (because I thought I might work for this high-tech company soon). It was very time-consuming, but I think I was born as a natural coder. I think I will eventually excel in that class. Sociology might be the long detour between my career as a techie.
I am going to get my eye examined next week. I am also going to see a dentist very soon. I ate well and slept well. And I know I am going to get quite a few jobs offers by the end of the year.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
I cannot do it
Ok, I thought I will do blogs about people I hate, so I started with the first one. Then I realized that I cannot do it. First of all, I do not really hate people. It is just sometimes I have a stronger feeling, "I would never want to befriend with this guy (girl)." That's all.
Second, I have to admit that writing about a non-friend is no fun. I started with one paragraph, but reliving bad memory is nothing like a peice of pie. So I stopped, and want to forget about the whole idea of blogging about my non-friends.
My class is going well. I have about 10-12 students in my class. I want to give these students the best education i can offer.
I mailed out 26 job academic job applications this morning. I think I am done with academic job searching. Either they like me or not, I no longer care. I still believe that not retaining me in sociology is probably a big loss for them, but not for me.
Second, I have to admit that writing about a non-friend is no fun. I started with one paragraph, but reliving bad memory is nothing like a peice of pie. So I stopped, and want to forget about the whole idea of blogging about my non-friends.
My class is going well. I have about 10-12 students in my class. I want to give these students the best education i can offer.
I mailed out 26 job academic job applications this morning. I think I am done with academic job searching. Either they like me or not, I no longer care. I still believe that not retaining me in sociology is probably a big loss for them, but not for me.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Don't be ridiculous
So that company asked me what was my ranking of college entrance examination. Man, that was my glory days! I guess they are trying to find an appropriate salary for me by factoring everything in. But com'on, I do not think my scores in that exam no longer say much about me now.
I have 12 students in my class. I think I really like teaching. Last night I was in a presentation of an investment banking firm. It was so boring. I think all the stereotypes of investment bankers are indeed true. I think I will not get into investment banking at all. I hate those assholes.
But the more presentation of consulting industry I go to, the more those jobs are attractive to me. SO I will apply, just in case THAT job eventually fell apart.
Hey, I have an idea. After I finish the blogging about my friends, why do not I start blogs about "people who I hate"? I guess I will start soon. It seems such a great idea to me now. Stay tuned!
I have 12 students in my class. I think I really like teaching. Last night I was in a presentation of an investment banking firm. It was so boring. I think all the stereotypes of investment bankers are indeed true. I think I will not get into investment banking at all. I hate those assholes.
But the more presentation of consulting industry I go to, the more those jobs are attractive to me. SO I will apply, just in case THAT job eventually fell apart.
Hey, I have an idea. After I finish the blogging about my friends, why do not I start blogs about "people who I hate"? I guess I will start soon. It seems such a great idea to me now. Stay tuned!
Monday, September 25, 2006
I am a genius
Yes, I am. I got a call this morning from the company. I was told that I did very well in the interview (I told you!). Now they are checking my references (my references like me) and also ask me for copies of transcripts. So I am pretty sure I will get this job. But again, I am casting my net also on others. This week I am going to attend a bunch of informational sessions. Yes, I think I am a genius. I am probably going to take a computer science class this quarter to prepare for this job.
Okey, let me be more humble here. I also know that I will teach a class this quarter. I enjoy teaching a lot. The same class that got cancelled last spring (damn you, low enrollment!). Hehe.
Okey, let me be more humble here. I also know that I will teach a class this quarter. I enjoy teaching a lot. The same class that got cancelled last spring (damn you, low enrollment!). Hehe.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
A stressful weekend
I just moved to a new apartment, on the edge of the campus. I was the first one to get there, so I got to pick my bedroom among three. So I got this big master's bedroom with a queen size bed. Pretty awesome.
This week was quite stressful. I found myself very very busy, maybe until tomorrow. Job applications, teaching a class, leading workshops, doing research with Betalian, learning HTML and Photoshop, going to the company for my marketing intern. Besides, my car needs a smog check, I need a haircut, I need to buy things for the empty apartment, still wait for the university to deliver my desk and chair and bookshelf. If I do not suffer a heart attack this week, I think I am healthy enough to live until 100.
Two events ruined my self-confidence though. One is that I had a very very bad phone interview for a job. I was asked some trick questions, and I stumbled on almost all of them. One answer I provided was "I guess I do not know." Honest but disastrous. It is probably no big deal, but it hurts my feeling of invincibility. Seocnd, only one student signed up for my class so far. I was not the one to be blamed, as they forgot to put time and location on the time schedule until last week and I was recruited as the instructor only 2 days ago. But still, I am taking it upon myself, as if I am a big failure, and this class is only one little manifestation.
On the bright sight, however, I find myself to be a perfect candidate for consulting jobs now. I just filled out an application for a big consulting company. I applied for the same company last year, and I find that I had so much more BS to talk about than last year. Not bad at all.
I am now still the only person in the three bedroom apartment. I hope my roommate will never move in, so I can enjoy it all to myself!! mmmmmmmmhahahaha.
This week was quite stressful. I found myself very very busy, maybe until tomorrow. Job applications, teaching a class, leading workshops, doing research with Betalian, learning HTML and Photoshop, going to the company for my marketing intern. Besides, my car needs a smog check, I need a haircut, I need to buy things for the empty apartment, still wait for the university to deliver my desk and chair and bookshelf. If I do not suffer a heart attack this week, I think I am healthy enough to live until 100.
Two events ruined my self-confidence though. One is that I had a very very bad phone interview for a job. I was asked some trick questions, and I stumbled on almost all of them. One answer I provided was "I guess I do not know." Honest but disastrous. It is probably no big deal, but it hurts my feeling of invincibility. Seocnd, only one student signed up for my class so far. I was not the one to be blamed, as they forgot to put time and location on the time schedule until last week and I was recruited as the instructor only 2 days ago. But still, I am taking it upon myself, as if I am a big failure, and this class is only one little manifestation.
On the bright sight, however, I find myself to be a perfect candidate for consulting jobs now. I just filled out an application for a big consulting company. I applied for the same company last year, and I find that I had so much more BS to talk about than last year. Not bad at all.
I am now still the only person in the three bedroom apartment. I hope my roommate will never move in, so I can enjoy it all to myself!! mmmmmmmmhahahaha.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
The big interview is over
I think I did well on three of the interviewers, but the second one was a little bit intense and hostile. I hope he does not have the final say on my future.
I have been feeling great in the past week or so. I got so much done. Way to go.
I have been feeling great in the past week or so. I got so much done. Way to go.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
procrastination
Holy cow, I was supposed to do something productive tonight. Now I had this long blog entry about Wondre. Well, it works out better this way. As the blog entry began to form in my brain, I had to get it out on the keyboard. Now I still have one hour before sleep, so do something that will make it a productive day.
Oh, by the way, tomorrow is a big day for me, as I will be interviewing for a job I really want to have.
Oh, by the way, tomorrow is a big day for me, as I will be interviewing for a job I really want to have.
My friend (Wondre)
If you still remember my "writing plan" blog, you know I still own you this one: my friend Wondre (of course, as well as the last part of Yuphen. Sorry that my writing was sort of slow recently). I have been holding this spot for Wondre for a long long time. I know she is special, but as the time passing by, I unconsciously blocked the memory about her. As the life goes forward, I do not dear to look back, as if it would dig out some of my flaws that I had been tried to forget. And besides, we haven't contacted each other for a long time. So I am not the only one to be blamed.
All of a suddenly, she re-emerged with an email. For certain reasons, it reminded me how important my past was to me, and how great a friend she was, and how many memories we had shared (I know she will be reading this blog some time. But I promise, this blog is not intended to use these cheesy words to please her. It is just how I would have written without knowing she would be reading. Okey, stop over-analyzing. Just go to the facts).
Oh, one more thing before I get into the real meet. You know Gmail tried to match the ads (showing up on the right side of screen) with the content of email, right? For some reasons, one of the matching ads for Wondre's email is called "Device to beat kids". I do not know how that happened: She just innocently mentioned something about children. Get serious please, Google!
I met Wondre for the first time in high school during a gathering organized by the Literature Club (I, Wondre and Zexum were all part of it. Until today, Wondre and Zexum are still best friends, as far as I know). There were some silly activities during the gathering in a classroom. I think Zexum made a speech or something, since she was the leader. Wondre and I happened to live in the neighborhood close-by, so I was responsible to escort her home (I remember in high school, boys need to escort girls back home if there are evening activities. I do not know whether it is required by the school or it is just a made-up rule by boys). Anyway, we had a very interesting conversation on the bike for about half an hour. For some reasons, we promised to write letters to each other. It might started as a joke or something, but it turned out that we really took it seriously.
Before I go on, here is some background information. Wondre wrote beautiful essays (of course, great hand-writing too, always in blue ink and semi-transparent sheets, as I later found out). In the Literature Club, I was the fake one. I did not write well. Even I tried hard, I paid a lot of attention to the structure, the logic, and hidden meanings, the moral lessons. After I finished a "masterpiece", I bearly could read it myself. It was like looking at myself in the mirror in the early morning with sleepy eyes: it does not look like me. The same for my essay: it does not look like mine, as so many things were hidden or got over-analyzed. Wondre's essay was different: very visual, always creating an atmosphere with few strokes, almost like a master painter who can always get to the essenses of the nature, or the people, or the spirits that might be floating around.
So for me, Literature Club was a cover that I could divert the spot light of "math nerd" away from me. Also, it was awe-struck by the fact that people of my same age and similar experience could creat something so beautiful, and I just cannot (well, English, my second language, have gave me a greater freedom to create, as I do in this blog. Thank you very much, English). For that reason, I admired her, as writing came so natural, as she breathing in thoughts and breathing out words like a fish in the water.
So get back to track. We began to write to each other. It was our secret communication. One morning, when I arrived school, I would found a letter sitting neatly on the teacher's big desk in the front of classroom. Then she would got one. And then it was my turn. During some period, the exchange was so frequent that we wrote every day. Two reasons kept me going with the letter exchange.
One, it was a joy to write, especially to Wondre. I was a sensitive boy, and I often suspect whether or not I was normal at all, so I tended to suppress my sensibility. Writing to her made me feel free. She was not in my same grade, we did not really know each other well, and even better, she was younger than me, so I felt very secure to write to her. By convincing myself that it was to give Wondre some advice and guidence in school as an older brother, I really acted selfishly so that i had a chance to discover myself.
Second, it felt great if you had a secret friend that you can always talk to but nobody else can. Every morning, when I got the letter from Wondre, I acted like no big deal, calmly passing the rows of seats, put the letter in my backpack, waiting for a quiet moment to read it. But what really went through my mind was something less noble: I peeked at other people, noticing that they were guessing how my secret friend was? was it he or she? if she, was she my girlfriend? What were we writing about? How came we had so many things to write about? Let me tell you, it felt great to be the center of the attention and gossip, especially it had nothing to do with my academic achievement and had every ingredient of something romantic.
You may ask, was Wondre my girlfriend? Well, it was complicated. No, I did not have any intention to have a girlfriend then (To be honest, I was not mature enough then to understand the meaning of relationship then. I thought that 1) having a girlfriend was not good when you were a high school student, 2) but if you had one, everyone will envy about it. So it was a forbidden fruit. With my moral self-rightousness and the incredible lack of self-confidence. a girlfriend was out of the picture.) However, I had every intention to make it look like one. As I mentioned above, I liked the feeling when my classmates guessed or teased about who my secret pen pal was.
To make the deal sweeter, I kept my parents and my Niangniang guessing. Because during the school recess, we wrote to each other through snail mail. My Niangniang asked me a couple of times, and I refused to answer. Since I did not have mailbox key, I eventually figured a way to take out the mail using two small stickes. It felt great because I finally had my privacy. How pathetic, I might say now. However, back then, this kind of small things kept me together so that I did not snap and lived rather peacefully with the oppressive environment in my family. (Oh, please do not get me wrong. If you read my earlier blogs, you know I love my families as a fact. However, living in my family as a 15 years old kid was a miseable experience. I am happy I eventually have got out almost unscratched, but I do not blame them for everything they did, because they meant well).
So one day, I embarked on a journey to visited her in her hometown (2 and half hours by bus) in the summer. I did not even tell my family, as if that was as rebellious as I could go: a secret day trip to see a secret friend, maybe just to prove that I can do it. The bus was over-loaded, so when passing every checking point, we had to dodge, as if the bus was under a massive attack. When I arrived there, she and I climbed a small hill to have a nice view (or maybe there is a temple there or something). I forgot most of it, but a joke that I always remember. It is not even funny, but we had a good laugh then. Okey, okey, the joke is as following: When we walked on the trail, she said,"Xiaolu (little alley), Tongzhi (comrade)", but I thought she was calling me "Comrade Little Deer". Funny, huh? Anyway, we overplayed the joke again and again during our walk, as it was the funniest thing in the world.
Then I was about to head to college. One afternoon, we biked all the way to the suburban on a land-bridge. She told me that she liked to watch the train passing by under the feet. I was not sure why it was so enjoyable, but I wanted to see it too. The other side of the bridge was still under the construction, so there was virtually nobody on the bridge. We talked and talked until the train came, with the smoking flushing out of its industrial chimney. It came, it went. To this day, I still did not get it: why watching train was interesting? (Well, I guess people are different. Last year I had a housemate who can watch the fire burning for an eternity). Anyway, I think we talked a little about the future. I did not remember what I said about my future, but I know I felt then that college was the best thing to me: I could get away from my family, and besides, in college, all my dreams would come true, and besides, as I grew up, my hometown was now too small for me--I was going to fly far and high, leaving my old friends far behind.
Eventually, college turned out to be great, but not as great as I thought would be. We still communicated with letters. One way I got a letter from Wondre, with a 2-inch passport photo and a depressing letter. I was quite freaked out. I thought Wondre would do something stupid to herself. (To this day, I still do not know whether I was over-worrying). I think I immediately wrote a letter back, blah blah blah. I told it to my then girlfriend Yuphen. She was worried too. Just to comfort her, I promised her that Wondre was like a willow branch, wavering under strong wind but never would snap itself. I do not know whether I could convince myself with that, but that thought made me feel better.
Eventually Wondre went to a college next to mine. She did not change too much since high school. To me, she was still the little girl I knew, writing beautiful essays and suffering from being sensitive. How Zexum, Wondre and I were in the same city again, thousands of miles away from where we started. We had some gatherings to renew our friendship, but they were more like a formality that I neither loved or hated, so my memory there was all blured.
Later in college, one of my best friends (well, my friend "Jegal", if you still remember him) told me that one girl was calling into some radio show to confess the love for me. I do not know how he got the link, as I assumed that in radio shows everything was supposed to be anonymous (that's the whole point of those kinds of radio shows right?). However, I immediately thought of Wondre. It does not matter whether my guess was justified. It was probably false anyway. What really mattered here that that the thought came natutally to me. All those years our friendship was quite "aimei", tracking all the way to the letter-writing. I never denied to my friends or family whether she was indeed my secret girlfriend. Until today, I still believe that, besides the events I described in "Yuphen" blogs, it is the most romantic event of my entire life. I kept these letters until two years ago. (When I visited my home two years ago, my dad told me that he was selling my apartment. Then I burnt all the letters I have, including Wondre's. For me, that apartment was an era. It was the last thing that confined my freedom, but it was also whether I wrote these letters, whether my Yaya died, when my Niangniang made delicious meals, where I got up at 6am for a morning run, where I studied to nail the college extrance exam, where I sang aloud to disturb neighbors. I felt very very sad, so I burnt my memory. And now, I feel my eyes are all wet. I think of my Niangniang now. Last week when I called her, she was not well. I think she is losing it to the old age).
Anyway, back to Wondre. That's pretty much all the important events that I remember now. A couple of days ago, her email emerged, probably in a hope that Zexum and I can be together. I told her not to bother. I really appreciate all her effort. I still do not know what she did, but she mentioned something vaguely in the email, and saying sorry about them. Well, really, nothing to be sorry about. If sorry has to be said, then this blog will have too many "sorries": sorry to guess Wondre as the calling girl without a reason, sorry to burn Wondre's letter, etc... But I don't. They are all part of the whole story about Wondre and me, and it just happened this way. They are treasurous.
Finally, let me say this. The life is a circle in every possible way. We started writing secret letters to each other, now I share this rather "secret" blog to Wondre. From the blue ink on factory-titled sheets to the cyber-font on computer screens, something is unchanged. I am still honest as I was before, still struggling here and there, but still with great ambitions, still sensitive, but now with a better writing style. My mind could still overwhelm me, and my heart could still break once a while. However, in this blog, I am safe to speak, safe to stipulate that, on the receiving side, my friends are watching and caring, sometimes with me as the secret boyfriend. Oh, so nice to be young,pure and innocent.
All of a suddenly, she re-emerged with an email. For certain reasons, it reminded me how important my past was to me, and how great a friend she was, and how many memories we had shared (I know she will be reading this blog some time. But I promise, this blog is not intended to use these cheesy words to please her. It is just how I would have written without knowing she would be reading. Okey, stop over-analyzing. Just go to the facts).
Oh, one more thing before I get into the real meet. You know Gmail tried to match the ads (showing up on the right side of screen) with the content of email, right? For some reasons, one of the matching ads for Wondre's email is called "Device to beat kids". I do not know how that happened: She just innocently mentioned something about children. Get serious please, Google!
I met Wondre for the first time in high school during a gathering organized by the Literature Club (I, Wondre and Zexum were all part of it. Until today, Wondre and Zexum are still best friends, as far as I know). There were some silly activities during the gathering in a classroom. I think Zexum made a speech or something, since she was the leader. Wondre and I happened to live in the neighborhood close-by, so I was responsible to escort her home (I remember in high school, boys need to escort girls back home if there are evening activities. I do not know whether it is required by the school or it is just a made-up rule by boys). Anyway, we had a very interesting conversation on the bike for about half an hour. For some reasons, we promised to write letters to each other. It might started as a joke or something, but it turned out that we really took it seriously.
Before I go on, here is some background information. Wondre wrote beautiful essays (of course, great hand-writing too, always in blue ink and semi-transparent sheets, as I later found out). In the Literature Club, I was the fake one. I did not write well. Even I tried hard, I paid a lot of attention to the structure, the logic, and hidden meanings, the moral lessons. After I finished a "masterpiece", I bearly could read it myself. It was like looking at myself in the mirror in the early morning with sleepy eyes: it does not look like me. The same for my essay: it does not look like mine, as so many things were hidden or got over-analyzed. Wondre's essay was different: very visual, always creating an atmosphere with few strokes, almost like a master painter who can always get to the essenses of the nature, or the people, or the spirits that might be floating around.
So for me, Literature Club was a cover that I could divert the spot light of "math nerd" away from me. Also, it was awe-struck by the fact that people of my same age and similar experience could creat something so beautiful, and I just cannot (well, English, my second language, have gave me a greater freedom to create, as I do in this blog. Thank you very much, English). For that reason, I admired her, as writing came so natural, as she breathing in thoughts and breathing out words like a fish in the water.
So get back to track. We began to write to each other. It was our secret communication. One morning, when I arrived school, I would found a letter sitting neatly on the teacher's big desk in the front of classroom. Then she would got one. And then it was my turn. During some period, the exchange was so frequent that we wrote every day. Two reasons kept me going with the letter exchange.
One, it was a joy to write, especially to Wondre. I was a sensitive boy, and I often suspect whether or not I was normal at all, so I tended to suppress my sensibility. Writing to her made me feel free. She was not in my same grade, we did not really know each other well, and even better, she was younger than me, so I felt very secure to write to her. By convincing myself that it was to give Wondre some advice and guidence in school as an older brother, I really acted selfishly so that i had a chance to discover myself.
Second, it felt great if you had a secret friend that you can always talk to but nobody else can. Every morning, when I got the letter from Wondre, I acted like no big deal, calmly passing the rows of seats, put the letter in my backpack, waiting for a quiet moment to read it. But what really went through my mind was something less noble: I peeked at other people, noticing that they were guessing how my secret friend was? was it he or she? if she, was she my girlfriend? What were we writing about? How came we had so many things to write about? Let me tell you, it felt great to be the center of the attention and gossip, especially it had nothing to do with my academic achievement and had every ingredient of something romantic.
You may ask, was Wondre my girlfriend? Well, it was complicated. No, I did not have any intention to have a girlfriend then (To be honest, I was not mature enough then to understand the meaning of relationship then. I thought that 1) having a girlfriend was not good when you were a high school student, 2) but if you had one, everyone will envy about it. So it was a forbidden fruit. With my moral self-rightousness and the incredible lack of self-confidence. a girlfriend was out of the picture.) However, I had every intention to make it look like one. As I mentioned above, I liked the feeling when my classmates guessed or teased about who my secret pen pal was.
To make the deal sweeter, I kept my parents and my Niangniang guessing. Because during the school recess, we wrote to each other through snail mail. My Niangniang asked me a couple of times, and I refused to answer. Since I did not have mailbox key, I eventually figured a way to take out the mail using two small stickes. It felt great because I finally had my privacy. How pathetic, I might say now. However, back then, this kind of small things kept me together so that I did not snap and lived rather peacefully with the oppressive environment in my family. (Oh, please do not get me wrong. If you read my earlier blogs, you know I love my families as a fact. However, living in my family as a 15 years old kid was a miseable experience. I am happy I eventually have got out almost unscratched, but I do not blame them for everything they did, because they meant well).
So one day, I embarked on a journey to visited her in her hometown (2 and half hours by bus) in the summer. I did not even tell my family, as if that was as rebellious as I could go: a secret day trip to see a secret friend, maybe just to prove that I can do it. The bus was over-loaded, so when passing every checking point, we had to dodge, as if the bus was under a massive attack. When I arrived there, she and I climbed a small hill to have a nice view (or maybe there is a temple there or something). I forgot most of it, but a joke that I always remember. It is not even funny, but we had a good laugh then. Okey, okey, the joke is as following: When we walked on the trail, she said,"Xiaolu (little alley), Tongzhi (comrade)", but I thought she was calling me "Comrade Little Deer". Funny, huh? Anyway, we overplayed the joke again and again during our walk, as it was the funniest thing in the world.
Then I was about to head to college. One afternoon, we biked all the way to the suburban on a land-bridge. She told me that she liked to watch the train passing by under the feet. I was not sure why it was so enjoyable, but I wanted to see it too. The other side of the bridge was still under the construction, so there was virtually nobody on the bridge. We talked and talked until the train came, with the smoking flushing out of its industrial chimney. It came, it went. To this day, I still did not get it: why watching train was interesting? (Well, I guess people are different. Last year I had a housemate who can watch the fire burning for an eternity). Anyway, I think we talked a little about the future. I did not remember what I said about my future, but I know I felt then that college was the best thing to me: I could get away from my family, and besides, in college, all my dreams would come true, and besides, as I grew up, my hometown was now too small for me--I was going to fly far and high, leaving my old friends far behind.
Eventually, college turned out to be great, but not as great as I thought would be. We still communicated with letters. One way I got a letter from Wondre, with a 2-inch passport photo and a depressing letter. I was quite freaked out. I thought Wondre would do something stupid to herself. (To this day, I still do not know whether I was over-worrying). I think I immediately wrote a letter back, blah blah blah. I told it to my then girlfriend Yuphen. She was worried too. Just to comfort her, I promised her that Wondre was like a willow branch, wavering under strong wind but never would snap itself. I do not know whether I could convince myself with that, but that thought made me feel better.
Eventually Wondre went to a college next to mine. She did not change too much since high school. To me, she was still the little girl I knew, writing beautiful essays and suffering from being sensitive. How Zexum, Wondre and I were in the same city again, thousands of miles away from where we started. We had some gatherings to renew our friendship, but they were more like a formality that I neither loved or hated, so my memory there was all blured.
Later in college, one of my best friends (well, my friend "Jegal", if you still remember him) told me that one girl was calling into some radio show to confess the love for me. I do not know how he got the link, as I assumed that in radio shows everything was supposed to be anonymous (that's the whole point of those kinds of radio shows right?). However, I immediately thought of Wondre. It does not matter whether my guess was justified. It was probably false anyway. What really mattered here that that the thought came natutally to me. All those years our friendship was quite "aimei", tracking all the way to the letter-writing. I never denied to my friends or family whether she was indeed my secret girlfriend. Until today, I still believe that, besides the events I described in "Yuphen" blogs, it is the most romantic event of my entire life. I kept these letters until two years ago. (When I visited my home two years ago, my dad told me that he was selling my apartment. Then I burnt all the letters I have, including Wondre's. For me, that apartment was an era. It was the last thing that confined my freedom, but it was also whether I wrote these letters, whether my Yaya died, when my Niangniang made delicious meals, where I got up at 6am for a morning run, where I studied to nail the college extrance exam, where I sang aloud to disturb neighbors. I felt very very sad, so I burnt my memory. And now, I feel my eyes are all wet. I think of my Niangniang now. Last week when I called her, she was not well. I think she is losing it to the old age).
Anyway, back to Wondre. That's pretty much all the important events that I remember now. A couple of days ago, her email emerged, probably in a hope that Zexum and I can be together. I told her not to bother. I really appreciate all her effort. I still do not know what she did, but she mentioned something vaguely in the email, and saying sorry about them. Well, really, nothing to be sorry about. If sorry has to be said, then this blog will have too many "sorries": sorry to guess Wondre as the calling girl without a reason, sorry to burn Wondre's letter, etc... But I don't. They are all part of the whole story about Wondre and me, and it just happened this way. They are treasurous.
Finally, let me say this. The life is a circle in every possible way. We started writing secret letters to each other, now I share this rather "secret" blog to Wondre. From the blue ink on factory-titled sheets to the cyber-font on computer screens, something is unchanged. I am still honest as I was before, still struggling here and there, but still with great ambitions, still sensitive, but now with a better writing style. My mind could still overwhelm me, and my heart could still break once a while. However, in this blog, I am safe to speak, safe to stipulate that, on the receiving side, my friends are watching and caring, sometimes with me as the secret boyfriend. Oh, so nice to be young,pure and innocent.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Got an interview
Also, here is what I wrote yesterday when I was procrastinating.
After running out of laudable inspiration of blog topic, here I am to blog about the music I am listening.
My favorite music is stil belong to "10,000 maniacs", especially their albums in 1990s. I love Natalie Merchant so much that I can almost listen to her singing for eternaty. "Noah's Dove" and "Stockton Gala Days" are my all-time favorite.
But I have more. Recently I have been introduced to classical music, almost by accident. Vivaldi, Bach, Brahms... I know it is almost uncool to love classics, but it was good. I guess I will never be an real artist, but my whole life journal seems like a process of discovering the beauty of arts, first acting, then modern dance, no more and more music and design. One special album for me is "Vivaldi's Ring of Mystery". I stole this album from Phoebe without her knowing under the classic category on itunes. It was a fascinating story with great Vivaldi music. I guess deep-down I am fascinated by fairy tales full of imagination.
Antoher funny song was "The nights Santa Went Crazy" by "Weird Al". A good rap song is Jay-Z's "Big Pimping". Other music I listened to often: Counting Crows, Billy Joel, Stars, Belle and Sebastion, The Delgados, Amelie soundtrack, Missy Higgins, Sara and Tegan, etc.
The youtube channel I love to watch: Lucy in LA.
The online video clips I love to watch: Daily Show and Colbert Report.
The magazine and newspaper I read: Time, New York Times.
The books I am reading or has finished recently: Bee Season.
The movie I would like to watch: Little miss sunshine
The ipod TV I am watching: 24 (season 4) and development arrestment (season 2)
It sounds like my cultural life is pretty cool, right?
After running out of laudable inspiration of blog topic, here I am to blog about the music I am listening.
My favorite music is stil belong to "10,000 maniacs", especially their albums in 1990s. I love Natalie Merchant so much that I can almost listen to her singing for eternaty. "Noah's Dove" and "Stockton Gala Days" are my all-time favorite.
But I have more. Recently I have been introduced to classical music, almost by accident. Vivaldi, Bach, Brahms... I know it is almost uncool to love classics, but it was good. I guess I will never be an real artist, but my whole life journal seems like a process of discovering the beauty of arts, first acting, then modern dance, no more and more music and design. One special album for me is "Vivaldi's Ring of Mystery". I stole this album from Phoebe without her knowing under the classic category on itunes. It was a fascinating story with great Vivaldi music. I guess deep-down I am fascinated by fairy tales full of imagination.
Antoher funny song was "The nights Santa Went Crazy" by "Weird Al". A good rap song is Jay-Z's "Big Pimping". Other music I listened to often: Counting Crows, Billy Joel, Stars, Belle and Sebastion, The Delgados, Amelie soundtrack, Missy Higgins, Sara and Tegan, etc.
The youtube channel I love to watch: Lucy in LA.
The online video clips I love to watch: Daily Show and Colbert Report.
The magazine and newspaper I read: Time, New York Times.
The books I am reading or has finished recently: Bee Season.
The movie I would like to watch: Little miss sunshine
The ipod TV I am watching: 24 (season 4) and development arrestment (season 2)
It sounds like my cultural life is pretty cool, right?
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