Asking the wrong questions

Sometimes we forget our parents are people too.

*******

For awhile I noticed I had been getting answers to questions I was not supposed to know or not even supposed to ask… I wonder if it’s because I’m getting older and everything around starts to unfold, or that I’m just getting really good at asking the right questions.

*******

For two consecutive weekends I’ve made my mother upset, and for two consecutive days I was somehow responsible for making my mother cry.

My mom was worried sick about Steven because she has heard from some relative that he was isolating himself to the extent that they suspect a late development of autism. I had promised I would go see them the coming summer, right after exams in late May to check out on how both Vincent and Steven were doing (oh God I have only barely five months left to go through my books…).

We were supposed to skype them on Saturday morning because that was the only time my mom was relatively free. But for the whole morning the internet connection at home stopped functioning. It doesn’t happen very often, but it tends to die on you just when your life semi-depended on it. My mom had called me five days ago to arrange the call.

It became clear we weren’t going to talk to them that morning. To say my mom was distressed was an understatement; I attempted to comfort her, explained to her she was letting her imagination go wild and things weren’t that bad, then she broke into tears, asked when was the earliest date I could manage to go see them and that she would have my father pay for the air ticket. I quickly thumbed through my schedule while I cursed the internet provider (Connection “excellent” my foot…), looked up numbers for travel agencies to see how much it would cost to leave on Christmas Eve and stay till New Year.

To put my mom’s head at rest, I also promised that I would stay and take care of them if things weren’t going well; I am a free agent now. That nearly started another wave of tears when she told me I must take care of my brothers and that she was proud of me (Erm, for having no other commitments?). However that evening I was half relieved when she called to say my father didn’t want to me to go, because I’ve already travelled for a month in June (yet he did not notice this time Fun wasn’t one of the objectives), it was snowing and we have relatives over there to inform us if anything is seriously wrong.

The next morning, while having breakfast with her and my grandma, my mother was still wearing this heavy frown on her face. We had a disagreement on the bus; while she thought the three of us should all forget about the past, eliminate all negative thoughts completely, so and so, I told her that both were equally unrealistic and unhealthy… On the ride back, something made me ask about her thoughts on her own life in general – her parents, marriage, family… if life went as she expected or hoped it would be. Not intentionally prying into her past and negative thoughts, I got her sobbing while she answered.

My mom isn’t the weepy kind nor does tell other people her problems (apparently both of my parents have privacy issues). She lost contact with her school friends ages ago, and all she sees now is my father, employees, clients, applicants and her own mom. While realizing all this as she was talking, the idea of me probably being the only person she turns to when she ever wants to express something crept inside my head… she calls me almost every day during my lunch hour, and I call her when I get off work, sharing my day with her. Whenever we are both free I like spending more time with her. She tells me about her work, (nags me about how important Mandarin is, I should go out and meet different people…), talks about Vincent and Steven, (me nagging her about buying furniture; don’t want to wait for another year)… etc.

It was sad and disturbing all at the same time. She occasionally tells me that she was slowly believing that sons would eventually neglect their mothers when they start their own family whereas daughters is a safer bet (my grandma’s situation kind of proves that… and again that night Vincent was exhausted enough to answer the stupid hypothetical question “if your mom and your wife fell into the sea, who would you save? And no you can’t save both” in front of her…).

But to think I was hardly her favorite throughout the years… it’s Steven who gets along with her constantly, nagging not a problem at all as he patiently hears her out whereas I tend to roll my eyes and pull my hair when I can’t stop her. And if I didn’t know it before, I know now that my mother is a great example of how the life of a wife and mother could be, so yay.

Lesson of the day – never ask questions when you’re not sure where the answer would lead to, or at least be prepared to get the worst answer possible.

Things going on with life (cont’)

Things going on with life recently –

2. Dance

The annual performance is coming up (only one day, on the 16^th of January). This year I will be joining Allen To’s Hip Hop (level 1… why did it become level 1…?) and Siu May’s Jazz Funk (open level)… to my bemuse people were openly shocked by my choices, because I wasn’t going to join either Bo or Leung’s AP class; I’m trying to kick the annoying loyal nature, a.k.a. “change resistance” out of me.

Hopefully I would find the determination to actually practice the routines, because last year it was apparent I didn’t give a ____ (after years of swearing in my writing, I’m trying to eliminate my usage of profanity completely). A small but significant part of me envied the younger girls when I watch them practice the chorography they’ve learnt during the training course, expanding their dance vocabulary and body flexibility. However I knew I can no longer devote so much of my time into dancing because I’m all grown up now; I have obligations (e.g….?).

Sure when people asked me what classes I go regularly, I would answer “4, Friday to Monday” and it sounded like I go pretty often. But since almost every week one or two of them would be cancelled because the tutor had other engagements, I probably only go to two classes per week on average… I can go to other classes instead but then I would think I should save the money and use the time to study instead.

3. Parents

One day I got a call from my mom, and she said she had good and bad news. Bad news was, she probably is going to move in with me (“that’s not bad news mom”). Good news was my father had somehow told her that if Jennifer (me) likes writing, then she should go for it (@@?!!?!!). He emphasized that I should write fiction, not the news or editorial stuff… I was nevertheless shocked (what happened that made him change his mind?), thrilled and then thought the permission came eight years too late, because I might have been able to do something about it.

The realistic side of me caught up almost immediately and I understood why my father said only “fiction” was the way to go – because it didn’t require brilliant language skills. I distinctly remember him saying that Harry Potter wasn’t well written and maybe he thought there was probably a chance (like 0.01%) that I could come up with something like Harry Potter… =__=. Anyway it was still something to be ecstatic about; too bad for me that I don’t read or write as much as I used to.

Told Vincent and Steven (“yea we thought that was weird too”), Apple (someone who loves writing too) and Kamma (someone who was kind enough to tell me I have a talent to in and kept on encouraging me to write again)… so that was why I promised myself to write more.

Last weekend

It has been awhile since I’ve wrote (again…). There actually had been quite a few things I wanted to note down, but now I guess I’ll just have to summarize everything into one or two (okay three) paragraphs. Oh and I still haven’t finish writing my graduation trip… how long can I hold on to those memories in my head?

*****

Talk with Brothers – Oct 24 (Sunday)

My grandma didn’t feel very well and didn’t want us come over to her place and visit. So after my mom and I got out to get breakfast, we went back home to skype with Vincent and Steven.

Vincent was in such a hysterical state my mom had him swore he wasn’t drunk nor stoned (seriously mom…) and Steven kept his distances from the webcam, stared intensely at his own computer and seemed reluctant to come over and speak to mom while I tried to tidy up my desk.

But when mom left and I started talking to Vincent about random stuff, he came over to join us. Afterwards Mom called me, which I found she sound hurt when she mentioned something about Steven being more talkative with me. I told her she gets to talk to him on the phone maybe two times a week and I do that maybe once a fortnight, not to mention that she rarely had the opportunity to speak to Vincent at all so Steven wanted her to have the chance to focus on Vincent.

Anyway I was telling Vincent about the theory that I would inevitably become our father when it comes to parenting/marriage, making me slowly heading to the conclusion that maybe I shouldn’t start a family that would spend most of their days miserable.

“There are basically two ways a person would come out to be,” I said. “Either being the complete opposite example of your parents consciously, or the same subconsciously” and I have found myself to be too much like them to ever become their exact opposite.

I forgot what my brothers said exactly, but after they asked me a few questions like “would you force your children to follow absolutely everything you say, and would have no input from them at all?” “would you think your way is the only way?”… etc, and the feeling of doom eventually lifted, somehow haha.

*****

Being a tourist – Oct 25 (Monday)

Chung Yeung Festival, another public holiday. I thought of catching an early movie again but the one I wanted to watch (The Time Traveler’s Wife) was no longer showing in CWB, so I promised Jack’s mom to switch Jack’s Sunday tutoring session to today. As usual he didn’t do his homework, so before I left I had him promise.

Jack: Okay…

Jen: No, give me a full answer. Say “I will do my homework”.

Jack: I will…

Jen: Say “I will do question 1 to 5, 7 to 9 before Jennifer comes over next week”.

Jack: I will do question 7 to 9.

Jen: And 1 to 5!!!

Jack: 1 to 5.

Jen: Okay, now say the whole sentence “I will finish question 1 to 5, 7 to 9 before Jennifer comes over next week”.

Jack: You’re going to miss your bus!

Jen: I’ve Already missed my bus! Repeat after me “Doing Math is only for my own good, not Jennifer’s”.

Jack: Doing Math… doing Math… just GO!!!

I do have a way of driving people crazy. 

I missed the shuttle bus, and the next is another half an hour later. To save money (I’ve already took a taxi up there to Mid Levels… why do people live in places that is only convenient when you have your own car?) I decided to walk down to Central and decide how to get home. The weather was exceptionally breezy and cool, so I tried taking a different route to see if it was an easier walk down back to where soil isn’t as pricey. I was reminded of a lesson I had in Math ages ago – the steeper route is the shorter route. 

I never did pass by Pokfulam or Soho on foot before, so I was turning my head every so often while walking really slowly because I sense this is the part where tourists go to when they are here, whereas I as a local never did have a reason to step foot on. The only difference between me and those tourists (other than attire and skin color) was that I didn’t have a camera or a map on my hand, but I had everything else down to the attitude of having all the time in the world, eyes shooting at every direction to take everything in, complete with a lost wandering look on my face. Oh and being literally oblivious of what people around me were doing or saying as if we don’t share a common language.

*******

Later that day, I had lunch with my mom and told her I was relieved after talking to my brothers about the theory of me turning into my father or her. She was, I presumed, taken back at how much I understood where she and my father was coming from when it came to dealing with family and children. She said I should stop thinking so much and too far ahead, because over-thinking would prevent me, discourage me into doing anything. I could only sigh.

“I don’t do that on purpose Mom. It’s always more of an epiphany than an analysis.”

Like father, like daughter.

When you’re completely honest to yourself, not only would you truly understand yourself but you also get a look in others’ minds. Because in reality, we aren’t that unique.

 

*********

That afternoon while having sushi with my mom, I told her how I have come to fully realize I am truly her and my father’s daughter. I know where I got my inability to abandon rationality (from my mom, surprisingly)… and I continued to look for examples…

 

List of why I am the hybrid of my parents

1. At times hard, apathetic and distance – Mom; Soft-hearted, extremely sympathetic and caring – Dad (surprise, surprise)
2. Easy to please, content – Mama; Easy to be depressed, unhappy – Papa
3. Ambitious – Mom; Not so much – Dad
4. Optimistic – Mama; Pessimistic – Dada
5. Insensitive – Mom; Sensitive – Dad
6. Bold – Mom; Careful – Dad
7. Heads in the clouds – Mom; Feet on the ground – Dad.
8. Easy going – Ma; Difficult – Ba
9. Stubbornness – Mom; More Stubbornness – Dad.

 

The list goes on and on… I distinctly remember saying to my mom “no wonder I’m extreme, with you two as parents!” Actually I told her I understood how she and my father work, why she/he think and do things in certain ways… because they made me (not only in a biological sense). However, that understanding is slowly sketching a bad but realistic outlook of a highly possible future.

 

My shower head at home broke for the second time within three months. My mom told me that the stuff the contractor used on the house were extremely cheap and of terrible material, so as long they were used, they will break. It so happens that I shower everyday (first time it broke was less than one week after the move, the second time was almost two weeks after it was replaced).

 

She had the guy come up to fix it once, and he advised her to get a new shower head and tube instead of using the same brand. So last Sunday night I was in for a big shock when my father suddenly showed up at my place with a key (following behind was my mother and maid), stormed into the bathroom, yelled and cursed the whole time. Based on my understanding, apparently I twisted and turned the shower head at weird angles and tangled the tube. Other than sheer stupidity from my part, I couldn’t fathom why on earth I would do all that.

 

Maybe because I was no longer exposed to yelling and cursing from my dad, I was pretty much in shock. I couldn’t force myself to speak, but silently watched my parents and listened to the contrast of my mom softly telling him what was wrong with the thing and him shouting how we break everything we use. They just stayed for five minutes, and when they left, I was drained.

 

That night in bed, I revisited my thoughts on having children in the future. For some weird reason, I know almost exactly how much my parents love and care for me and my brothers… and for my dad, he loved us to an extend that he rather be the bad guy and be hated by us when he has our best interest at heart, making decisions for us… etc. He loved and cared so much he went for the extreme. He had such high expectations of us and we didn’t deliver.

 

I know why he has such high expectations… maybe because he gave us everything he didn’t have, or maybe he thinks that since he’s just an average person and if we can’t beat him or just simply catch up with him on any area, we have to be dim and wouldn’t be able to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, making him extremely worried about us, pushing him… if you ask me, I do expect my children to be at least be the same if not better than me in areas like Chinese, English, Math, maybe Art… and I sincerely believe everything I know, everything I can do are just “basics”… and that probably is, I think, exactly what my father thinks of himself (oddly, he is also very skeptical and never trusted others’ expertise), leading me to the conclusion that I’m going to end up being my father when it comes to parenting.

 

Needless to say, I’d never want to treat my children like my father did. The worse part was that everything was done out of love not spite, therefore making me unable to hate him. After that night, the next two days I’ve had nightmares; my and my brothers hiding but he can still find, catch and hurt us… (which I found ironic considering that both me and Vincent felt the safest when he hugged us to sleep at night when we were younger). I felt the nightmares were such an exaggeration; just me dramatizing the whole situation (for God’s sake, it was just five minutes, get a grip…), but I guess despite all that, he has such a profound psychological impact on me that I could never rid even though I rarely see him in normal life now.

 

I guess he has helped me into becoming a better-equipped person; after all he was the one who strongly stressed the importance of English (the many “you speak like a HK student” was somehow a terrible insult), Factorization (getting good at that was the reason I wasn’t so bad in other areas in math), and has encouraged me to do Art (when we were younger he was extremely annoyed at Vincent’s inability to draw freehand the world map while I easily could… and he was extremely annoyed with my inability to memorize Chinese passages while my brothers easily could…). He couldn’t emphasis enough that if it weren’t for him we would all be nothing. But honestly, I’d never want anyone to go through what I went through internally even if it can make them a better person.

 

When I silently watched my mom trying to soothe him, playing the compromising role, I was so sad for her… because she always has to be the one who compromises, the one who has to understand (and accept) his temperament and verbal abuse (I think it helps that she doesn’t pay much attention or think over people’s words too much, but he can say such terrible things.)… She was the one who taught us if we decided to do something, then don’t complain. I knew if I were her in the same position, for the sake of the husband and kids, I would do the same, because I am her. Both of them, in different ways, would sacrifice themselves for their loved ones.

 

But I don’t want to end up like her; I don’t want to be tied to someone who is like my father or in any way reminds me of him by choice; I don’t want to have someone in my life who’s going to have the same impact and power over me enough to hurt me. I am a very cautious person (situations: Dad; people: Mom), and being “safe” in many ways is very important to me… I don’t want to hurt other people or allow anyone else to hurt me, which got me to the conclusion that a solitude life is probably the most logical path for me. My mom’s nature and my father’s nurture on me are probably going to see that to the end.

Mid-Autumn Festival Afternoon… with Mom

In the middle of District 9 I got a call from the studio telling me that the class I usually went to was cancelled, so I had the whole afternoon free. Then my mom called and said my father didn’t want her to hang around because he had to run some errands by himself, which she guessed was his way of hinting that she should spend some time with me, Yay! (I realize this might come off as sarcastic but it’s really not)

 

It is kind of difficult for her to spend much time with us ever since she and my dad started up the agency. The only days that the office was closed were Christmas Day and Chinese New Year. Now that they decided to cut themselves some slack, they close the agency whenever it’s a public holiday and not a Sunday. So when my mom said “now we can go to that sushi place that you always wanted to take me to” I was pretty much thrilled (it also helped that I was dying for sushi, ha!).

 

But because the movie ended at noon, the half-price discount starts at 3, so we had almost three hours to kill. We walked across Park Lane, then Jordon, and got “雞蛋仔s” on our way back to TST. It was strange, going out with my mom cos the only time we do is with my grandma on Sunday mornings, and there are my two brothers when they were in HK, so it was never just us.

 

I brought her to the bookstore I usually go to when I have some time before class. I mocked her slightly; she was surrounded by such a wide selection of books, and the first one she picked up was an English dictionary? Then when she was checking out the Mandarin books at the Language section, I was next to her, reading out loud a book whose title was along the lines “Learn to speak Cantonese like a Local” or something like that (the translations are always very interesting). I was trying my best to sound authentic when I said “oh no!” or “oh this tastes really really delicious” or “oh you’re so brilliant”, which got my mom laughing hysterically and said I should go do voice-overs. Interestingly, the book was written by a Japanese woman… (my mom, is the kind of person when you ask her what is the tastiest food ever, she’d say “green peppers, because it’s healthy” =___=. That partially explains her taste in books.)

 

Finally it was time to eat… drink Sake (I guess I don’t really like alcoholic drinks very much), and it was my treat for my mom since I got my first(-ish) job. Afterwards she went to find my dad and I picked up groceries on my way home. She couldn’t find him so she came up to my place to show off the new shoes she had bought. At the meantime I was online talking to a friend who so happened to tell me this place that makes the greatest moon-cakes, the kind with lots of nuts that my grandma adores. So I quickly search for the address, called to see if they were still in stock and the closing time, and dashed there with my mom.

 

After note: My grandma was so happy that I got her favorite kind of moon-cake that she said thank you (and apparently it’s a custom not to say thank you to those beneath your seniority as it is too much for that person to “handle” @@, so that shows exactly how happy she was), and that it was from an old traditional bakery/restaurant renowned for their moon-cakes, so I’m happy too. (The fact that my cousin, whom is back from Australia and for reason I’m not very fond of, and my uncle got her mediocre ones from a regular bakery also helped made me extra happy. ^v^)

(4 “happy”s in a paragraph? A personal record!)

“X@#!@#@!YZ!!!!…”… Okay now I’m done.

I’ve been eating peanut butter out of the jar for awhile… because whenever I go out for groceries I never really want to get chips or chocolate or candy or even a jar of Nutella… and when I’m at home and want something to snack on, there’s a jar of sugar, cinnamon, jam, or peanut butter… so comparing my options peanut butter seem to be the less crazy (and somewhat healthier) choice.

 

********

Ever since I moved to my new place, my mom comes up every morning for five minutes. In those five minutes my mom would do what women are famous for – nag. When she calls me (or I call her) in the middle of the day, half the time is nice, but half the time she nags. I consider myself patient, but her constant nagging drives me nuts.

 

Nag Topics includes:

1. How I wash my face; about how hard I pull my face and I’m going to have wrinkles real soon…

 

2. How late I sleep at night. I tell her I’m trying to sleep before 1 o’clock. She tells me I used to sleep really late and you can never really repay sleep debt. I tell her extremely few people in Hong Kong, or even across Asia, can get to University without staying up late Ever, and I sleep a lot earlier and a lot more than my peers… what more does she wants?

 

3. How often I sit on a chair. I ask how often can I not sit on a chair if most of my life were spent in classrooms being a good full time student. When I start having a job my “sitting” problems would only get worse unless she thinks I better stand up while typing away on the computer…

 

4. How I should go inside the bathroom to read and focus… I live in an apartment over a thousand square feet with no furniture Alone. Why do I have to go inside the bathroom, which is only slightly larger than a public toilet cubicle, to focus when outside there’s really nothing to disturb me?

 

5. Send emails to my father. She’s not his child; she doesn’t know how it was like back when I was younger… She doesn’t understand how I absolutely repel from having to give him more details than necessary about my life. Every single aspect of my life was fully under his power back then; I absolutely loath the lack of control I had and I Never Ever want to go back there. I’m already sending a lot more emails than both my brothers do combined, and they are in Seattle… I send one once per week or fortnight, which I feel somewhat comfortable when it’s not an obligation and when she doesn’t constantly reminds me to… what more does she want from me?!?!?!?!??!!

 

6. My facial expressions or gesturing… apparently I have too many facial expressions when I talk. I told her people have told me that I seemed so detached when I talk… I can easily go totally stoic on her but usually I save it for er, special occasions. If stoic is what she wants, don’t say I’m sulking when I put on my poker face or complain about my lack of effort to make conversation and then start picking fights…

 

7. “Open your eyes wider” “Smile”… here I laugh dryly and painfully… maybe I should just go to surgery, get double eye lids, have my lips shaped to a fixed smile and be done with it…

 

8. … …

 

…

 

n. Job interviews… leading to this morning’s break down.

 

So I was talking to Vincent in MSN when my mom showed up. They started to skype… and my mom started ranting about how I mess up my interviews. Then again I repeated that it was ages ago and I stopped doing that after the first two, so why did she have to go on and on about it… and she said I don’t go to every interview I get and forfeiting practice opportunities, and once again I explained those were insurance companies (and there were many in HK), which first I have no interest in working for; and second, all they do is ask me to fill up my personal details and then tell me how great their company or how much money I would make if I work for them, for Two solid Hours without asking my Any questions… all I had to do was sit there and nod, and that I could easily practice at home in front of the mirror. Then she said even I got to the final stage of an interview, I didn’t land the job… hallo??? Does the word “competition” means anything?? I have no idea how many people were they interviewing, how many people got to that final stage… and not “winning” is my fault?!?!?!?!??!!??……

 

She kept on ranting and I’ve told her countless times I got the message so could she just   stop? But no, repeating the same stuff in the phone is not enough, now she has to talk about ancient history in front of my brothers Because she knew I had to listen; I couldn’t stop her because she wasn’t talking directly to me… I told her to stop, told her to stop… to a point I was extremely irritated by her that I was pulling my hair and hated the effect she had on me… then she told my brothers how I was acting behind the webcam, rolling my eyes and pulling my hair like a mad woman, which made me almost swear I would brainwash myself (I’m really good at that) and forever remain indifference towards her… She gives out such statements, like how low EQ I have because I get angry so easily… and I know for a fact that isn’t true; that was so far away from the truth… that I know I’m so patient and calm to a point that nothing really fazes me anymore, and if I get more detached from emotions or from other people I can no longer classify as a human being… 

 

What annoyed me most, was probably because my brothers were telling me I shouldn’t show my mom any discontent, that she is my mom and all she can do right now, now that I’m so old, is to lecture/nag me… I know I should always be patient; I know all she wants is me to be good and well… I know every single thing they wanted to tell me. I’m not that immature… what they didn’t know was I get this every single day, with an average of two times a day do I get one of her never-ending nags. They are away, so most of her attention is on me… and it’s incredibly frustrating when someone keeps on repeating certain statements even though I’ve acknowledged them, told her to quit, but to no prevail. She took advantage of talking to her sons to force me to listen…

 

So finally she left for work, and while she put on her shoes my brothers started on how I have to be patient with Mom, what I should do or shouldn’t… and when she left, I let them to continue without muttering a word because I was just too tired and sick of explaining… and then I broke down. My brothers stopped immediately, and they attempted to make me laugh by saying jokes on how if they were in HK they could always try to discreetly leave the room so it won’t be so awkward, but now they can’t… I just told them that they simply have no idea how it was for me if they weren’t Me. After a while of dead silence I just told them I will talk to them later and that was it. The last time I broke down in front of them was in December, when I was sick, sleep deprived but still had deal with cold showers because the heater wasn’t working since April and I’ve been waiting for months to move, and simply do not have enough time back then to go to their place to shower and run back home… moments like that makes me think “I give up. Think what you want, do what you want; I don’t care”. I should stop telling people anything about me, my life or what I think, because that always leads to trouble…

 

I admit I am defensive, in fact very defensive at times… but what I want to say is – what someone thinks is their Opinion and is not necessarily a “Fact” (please, please distinguish “opinions” from “facts”… ). So my not listening to a person’s advice or opinion doesn’t mean I’m stubborn or unwilling to change (even though I admit I am stubborn; how could I not be, given birth and raised by two stubborn people), but is that I don’t agree with the person’s Opinions or that I simply don’t see a reason why I should change. It means I think before I follow what other people have to say… Opinions and Advice maybe ‘for my own good’ but I still think you should filter information you get… I wonder if stating reasons is a display of defensiveness because most of the time I tend to not explain myself, and whenever I do, I’m being “defensive”… so make up your mind, people, just make up your mind…

 

********

Thank God I have a blog as an outlet… or else I’d be talking to myself full time.

Patterns

Even they were ages ago, somehow my own naivety sickens me.

 

******************

It appeared the smaller the pile of stuff that’s left on the living room floor, the more time I needed to tidy everything up. Stuff that were left on the floor included old newspaper articles, various school notes and printouts, old letters and many notebooks where the first few pages started off as my attempt to keep a diary… apparently my dad’s meticulous nature rubbed off on me; I kept photocopies of the letters I wrote to people; contracts I’ve signed, receipts, bank statements, three years worth of credit card bills (stapled with ATM printouts to prove I’ve paid on time), official letters I’ve received…etc were kept in one place (not as organized as I would liked it to be, but I did what I thought best the last time I tidied stuff up).

 

******************

I couldn’t keep a diary, not because I couldn’t get myself to sit down and write, but rather I got bored with the notebook itself, or the language I used (spoken Chinese or written, or English), or my handwriting… etc. I found the old diary in May 2001, when I was F.2. It’s amazing how much a month’s entry can contain… about friends, family… etc. I didn’t remember the lessons themselves, but subconsciously I’m doing exactly what they have taught me and I’m starting to see a pattern.

 

At the age of 13, I had come to the conclusion that interesting people became friends with me because I was Useful. It was true in primary school; an example would be the two friends I walked back home with. When they were in a quarrel I was their best friend as I listened to them dishing dirt of the other side; when nothing’s going on, I somehow could never join in their conversations. After going through with different people, I settled with a kinder, simpler group of people to hang out with, because I felt safe. In high school, it appeared that history was repeating itself unknowingly. I felt I was a friend because we took the same walk back home, and I could help her with her ceramics homework, and that I listened to her… basically being useful, because outside of all that, she was starting fires behind my back and naturally I felt betrayed. I read on… I was friends with all sorts of people, because I was someone they turn to when they needed someone to listen, or I was always around when they felt alone. On the same page, I found the kinder, simpler, safer group of friends I had during then. I asked why girls had to constantly be around someone to feel comfortable… one moment of solitude would wreck them; go to washrooms together, walk home together, do stuff together… and I started to learn to become the exact opposite.

 

So now school life has officially ended for me. When I have time, I call up my friends and see if we could have dinner or do something together. They are interesting… people I can spend a day with without feeling bored. I do see my safe kind friends, but a lot less often and I do get bored after a few hours. I feel guilty when I don’t know what’s new in their lives because I’m so busy with mine… I noticed, the only person I kept in touch with in primary school was one of the two I walked home with.  

 

I was upset the other day, because I was turned down by a job I really wanted, and the fact that my job hunting days are not yet over haunted me. I called one of my interesting friends late afternoon, starting off with “hey something’s bothering me…” but she was working on something and she said she’d called me in half an hour. I didn’t wait and started my own healing process. She didn’t call that night and I guess she was busy or that she forgot. I didn’t blame her, because I knew she was a busy person, like me, and I should have found someone else to call for help.

 

The next day she called, apologized that she didn’t call back yesterday and asked me what was wrong. I told her the gallery turned me down and I was rather down the day before, but everything’s okay now. Then we moved on talking about when we were having drinks next week and I promised to see if other people were free as well.

 

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That was the year I tested my parents if they remembered my birthday. At the end of the day I couldn’t help myself and told my brothers. They talked to Mom and she assured me that she didn’t forget, just that she was so busy with work that dates no longer register as anything else but last day of visas or appointments. I got my share of birthday parties when I was younger because I couldn’t help asking for one when May came. I didn’t think my parents thought I wasn’t important (my dad used my birthday as the password to the office door) or anything, but I just had this epiphany… there are a lot more important things than birthdays and I stopped being disappointed if people don’t remember mine, but rather pleasantly surprised when they do. Just, after that, I made it a point when it was Vincent or Steven’s birthday, I would buy a cake and a present when my mom was too busy and asked her to share the bill.  

 

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In the same month, I realized I was the second runner up of a book report competition organized outside the school. It was the first time I’ve won something outside school and I was thrilled. I called my dad at work to tell him, but he said he was tired and could it wait till he gets home. When I finally gave him the news, he said nothing. Afterwards he told me he’d rather I read English out loud better than writing book reports. He also reminded me that he helped me proof read my essay so that was why I won. Remembering how I was top in my class in primary school because everyone else was dim, or that I was top in English in my form in high school because he taught me everything I know and since I was born in the states, I should be nothing less… that was when I learned how I should judge the things I do. I’ve also stopped telling him good news, because I want it to remain good news.

 

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So stuff that used to bother me no longer does. I’ve always thought it was a sign of maturity; there’s this term the old and wise Chinese use – “看化”. They’d tell you they are neutral, beyond feeling anything over stuff because they’ve seen and experienced so much. So I identified the neutrality or indifference I often felt as exactly that. However, after reading my own words, I don’t know if I’ve grown wiser or I’ve simply got used to the way things happen around me.

Vincent

My mom came over one day to help with the packing, and when we went through their uniforms (and threw most of it away), I held up Vincent’s old vest which he had scrawled his name and class on it for her to see and said “Mom, look at Vincent’s old handwriting!” Then she broke into a lovely smile and said “So we’ll keep it.”

 

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Now that job interviews are coming a lot slower, I continued with the packing. The good thing about doing most of it myself was that I got to see what kind of stuff we have so I can use up whatever’s left and not waste anything (it appears that I would never have to buy paper ever again for the rest of my life). I saw for myself how terribly disorganized Vincent and Steven’s stuff were; report cards were in the midst of old homework, copies of birth certificates everywhere… so basically I had to go through all their stuff and decide what goes to the bin.

 

I came across Vincent’s old journal of his last two years in high school, one that he had to hand in to his class teacher every month. It was terribly wrong of me, but I couldn’t stop myself from skimming through his entries. Most of the stuff I already knew, like how he nearly had to switch high schools in his senior years; I just didn’t know that his Chinese was so much better than mine. I felt that he loved TIC as much as I did and even though my mom still has qualms about my father’s intervention, which led to Vincent’s decision to go to the same high school with me instead of the one he was supposed to go to; one of the best Hong Kong has to offer.

 

For all my life, luck has been on my side and everything has been going smoothly for me; while for Vincent it has been almost the exact opposite. When Vincent knew he couldn’t get to university he was devastated, he was his own biggest critic and he had to deal with our father… it was a very difficult time for him. However he made me felt so guilty and angry at the same time; Angry because he limited his own options right from the beginning when he had to decide the schools and programmes to enroll in, and I was half counting on him to put me out of my misery from juggling both work and school. Guilty because I got in to one of the best universities in Hong Kong but literally hated it and I couldn’t wait for graduation so I could leave.

 

I thought it, my mom said it, that Vincent didn’t deserve to go through so many tough roads; he is such a sweet person and he’s constantly putting others’ interest before his. I think I’ve only told this to one person (don’t remember who though @@), but I had this rather one side conversation with God in the MTR station –  

 

Me: I would gladly give up anything in exchange for Vincent to get out of this fix. (By the way, this is a terrible way to start a bargain)

God: Including exchanging your paths?

Me: Yes.

God: What if I told you that Vincent can only get a degree if you gave up yours?

Me: I’d do it. Even it means I’m just going to be a high school graduate.

God: Wait, that’s not fair. You hated university. What about giving up all possibilities of “success”?

Me: You mean I’ll have to struggle with a dead end job for the rest of my life, that sort of “failure”?

God: Yup

Me: I’d do it.

God: What if, just what if, you have to give up your life?

Me: (pause for a moment) I’d do it.

 

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There was this entry on his love for his friends. I thought it was funny that his form teacher, who taught Chinese, wrote the word Love meant differently in Chinese and English, but I understood that Vincent didn’t mix up his vocabulary. There was this other entry, just before the end of school term and he had to prepare for his final public exam. He said he had to grow up and face the world; the last time he could stay comfortably in school without a real worry in his head; the last time he could not have his guard up when it comes to dealing with people; the last time he could still believe that the world is a good place. I wish, I just wish I could provide him the luxury of being the same trusting person he is/was. It physically pains me to see his photos when he was young, when he and Steven were looking at the camera smiling. I wish, I just wish I could bring that smile back to them again. But especially for Vincent, because for some reason I know that kid is still inside him, and he still plays a big part of the Vincent today. I wish, I just wish when I get to see him again, I get to see that child come out again.

One year of my life.

Another overwritten Ugly memory.

 

On my way to the East gate I passed by the Main Library. It was late at night and no one was around, so I stopped there for a moment to take everything in; the democracy walls, the benches under the big tree, everything was so quiet… suddenly I thought of the last three years of my life, my choices. My official last day of school was last Friday, and after exams and presentations in May, I will be leaving HKU and I’m looking forward to that. It was funny actually, for almost my whole first year when people asked me where I go to school, I avoided giving an exact answer, throwing stuff like “just another local university; it’s all the same”.

 

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I remember my registration day and my forgetting to be happy. Things were great on paper; I got in to the one of the finest school in Hong Kong, people kept on promising me how great university life would be, and my friend I knew outside school was also admitted to the same programme. We were ushered around, getting our student id photos taken and people kept on handing flyers and random publications of the school. I couldn’t seem to join in everyone else’s enthusiasm. It was when I sat down, staring at this computer magazine and listening to the busy people chattering, that I had this feeling that I wasn’t going to like my time here.

 

I was working full time in my parents’ office since I finished my A-Levels. I remember that I wasn’t allowed to go to the orientation camp because “it was a waste of time and the office needs me” and me hating the fact that I couldn’t make these sorts of decisions myself. I was looking forward for school to start because I didn’t want to be under my father’s eye more than necessary. It came out as a shock when I was expected to continue working even after school starts. I tried going to the office early to finish most of the stuff before going to school, but my father said I must come back during office hours when there were people around. So between classes I kept on going back and forth from school to the office and spent an hour on communing. Most of the time I couldn’t finish my work within those few hours, so I skipped classes very often. The lectures I did attend I dozed off. Needless to say I couldn’t catch up with my school work and I was starting to fear that I couldn’t even graduate.

 

Everyone was used to me disappearing. My friend was getting tired of taking care of me because I couldn’t hand in my assignments and knew nothing about deadlines. After my first exam I was terrified that I was going to be kicked out of school. I remember it was around Christmas when I told my father that I couldn’t cope with both work and school. He told me no one goes to lectures, no one has such a hard time as I do, everyone has a job besides school, my work only takes up two hours, and I must be stupid if I have such difficulties. I ended up saying yes I am stupid, but the fact that I’m still flunking my exams doesn’t change so I still think I have to stop working, or at least just come during weekends.

 

Then again the rhetorical question “if I tell you if you don’t work in the office, the place will shut down, would you work?”. After such an “exchange” my brothers and I were supposed to go shopping with my mom. I couldn’t recall what was I thinking or how I felt back then, but I remember not being able to speak at all that day and I made my mom cry because she sees how unhappy I was. Later I came up with the conclusion that Vincent was going to graduate high school soon, and when I get to my second year, he can take over my work in the office and since he’s the brighter one, he should have less difficulties. It was told that my priority is the office not school, but the work I was doing there was nothing someone with a brain couldn’t do, so they can easily hire another person to take my place, since they do pay me salary.

 

During Christmas holiday my workload in the office increased. I was sleeping so hard in class, in the office… my limbs were somehow filled with fatigue for some unknown reason. I remember that particular moment when I was dragging myself on the streets, it came to me I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t feel physically or mentally exhausted. For a time I blamed it on my dance classes. I know I should stop going because I kept on saying that I have no time, but I couldn’t because the sad thing was, that’s the only place I could stop thinking what a mess I’m in. It was ironic; I felt most comfortable at a place where I didn’t like the people, and back then I still had this urge to prove to those instructors that I wasn’t talentless and therefore pressure. But still it was that one and a half hour, three times a week that kept me sane.

 

I felt like a failure in every way possible. Everyone in school was doing great. I was no one and nothing  I did or thought was of importance. Give me a call and I have to fly back to the office ASAP, regardless of where I was or what I was doing. Everything was my fault because other people don’t make mistakes. I had to take everything in without a word. Even people outside the school or office were trying to prove that to me. Everyone around me keeps on talking to me, pouring into me, but they have no interest on what I have to say. I remember I got this call from a friend while I was in the office. She kept on talking and talking; I couldn’t tell her I wasn’t interested in her trivial details of her life, I stopped her abruptly by saying I have some work to do and I’ll call her later. Then I began to sob, feeling like I was going to burst. Then I met a new friend, she turned out to be the same and while she kept on talking, I wondered why I attract people like that. My father did his bit by reminding me daily how much we depend on the office to do well, and that we could be out of business any time, and many happy thoughts.

 

I remember feeling nauseous whenever I get a threat (when I made a mistake) that someone was going to get physical. I was told if I cannot finish my work in the office within two hours (which was unreasonable, how could you fit a full time job in two hours?), either I was plain retarded or it was nothing a good caning wouldn’t cure. I remember crying silently on the bus, when I was having lunch, for no reason. I remember having this idea, this image on my head, whenever I cross the road at night… I wondered if I swirling in the middle of the street instead of keep on walking, what would happen. In the end of the second semester I stopped going to school but one class, only because it was mandatory for me to show up. I even mixed up the dates and missed going to one of my exams…

 

Summer, I had to go to this workshop in school from 8 to 6 and I had a hard enough time to explain to my dad how it was impossible for me not to go to this workshop even though he could teach me everything because it was a compulsory course and they take attendance. He knew I couldn’t understand my computer courses just by reading the powerpoint notes so he has me to write programmes with a totally new (to me. He was still using ISPF for God’s sake.) language because ultimately the concepts are the same. Soon we learnt that my brother couldn’t get to university and he was going to leave HK for the US. I was beginning to lose my mind because I saw no end to my misery and I knew if I kept on with my state of hopelessness for another year, I’ll go literally insane. Again I told my father I couldn’t work anymore next year because I’m seriously going to be kicked out of school. So he told me to give him all the notes and books I have for my courses and he will teach me everything I have to learn. I was repulsed by the mere idea that me being university and I still needed my father to help me with my school work. What? Why? He told me I couldn’t handle computing because I have no background on it, unlike many of my classmates. I wanted to tell him, some of my classmates don’t have the background, but they get to stay in school and work out things together and ask people. They have connections and I don’t. They get old papers and assignments from seniors and I don’t know anyone…

 

I got him to promise that if I could finish the two A-Level textbooks on computing and answer one of his questions on these textbooks, I can do my studying on my own. I spent three days on it, and then told my dad I was ready. He asked me a question about networking, how e-mails were sent or something like that. I remember saying stuff like TCP/IP, packets… he asked me how were e-mails sent in the most literal sense. I didn’t know how the sockets work, or about sending signals and frames and everything… I couldn’t answer his question. I tried looking for an answer on the books but I couldn’t find it. I told him so and his answer was, I should have found out elsewhere if I don’t completely understand something. I just felt it was unfair. I didn’t have the time to completely understand everything, nor could I memorize everything…

 

I finally decided I can’t take it anymore and told my father that I don’t care about going to the office anymore. I’m going to do my own school work. He gave me an ultimatum. He must help me with my school work because I am his daughter, only if I’m not family will he give up on me. He had me inside his office alone, sat me down and explain to me how useless I am, how incapable I am of handling my school work, how if it weren’t for him, I’m nothing, and that I’m stubborn not to listen to him, how stubborn I was since the day I was born, the stupid stuff I did when I was young… all he wants is best for me. I cried… because he kept on feeding these ideas in my head and I believed him. I’ve been listening to him for 20 years. It was that constant ranting of how useless and what a failure I am that was breaking me, and unlike in the past, when I only had to face him a few hours at night, I face him the whole day for a year and he knows everything that I do and has total control. I honestly believed that I was going to end up picking cardboards, finding old newspapers from trash cans to earn a living, like those old women pushing a cart on the streets.

 

I couldn’t accept the fact that I was twenty and still in many sense controlled by my parents because I wasn’t financially independent. I probably would have long gone if I wasn’t worried about paying my own tuition. Another reason that has stopped me from doing something drastic was because my father was constantly sad, angry, lonely, and I didn’t want to make him feel like I’ve abandoned him. He loved me and my brothers all so much. But at that point I knew if I continue with this life, I don’t think I could survive… I chose to leave and as my mom later quotes my father’s words on how heartless I was because I didn’t even turn back.

 

It seems there are still so many things I left out… the craziness I felt. It all seemed so petty, even when I’m writing all this and it’s like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I don’t want to come out as a person who complains a lot, ungrateful… but it was a hard time for me, most possibly my darkest year. Fortunately I turned to my aunt and she made my father to continue to pay my tuition. It was such a relief when I got this check for my last tuition bill. I’m going to get my bachelor degree. I’m looking forward to graduation not only because I don’t have to feel like I wasting my time on something I don’t care about, but also I can be truly independent and whatever I do, no one can control my life or my mind anymore.

 

So basically that’s why people who knew me from the past think I am so much different from the person they met; why am I happier, more relax than I used to be.

Dinner with Relatives

The last time I had dinner with relatives and family was in Chinese New Year. For two nights (I managed to get out of the third one, thank God) I stuffed myself with food because I had to keep myself occupied. Since it was Dinner, there was nothing else to do but Eat.

 

One of the reasons I don’t like going to these dinners, other than the awkwardness (everyone is obligated to show up and make small talk) and the fact that it’s a complete waste of time, is that they serve dinner late (at 8 or 9). I have dinner early, like 5 or 6 because I can’t sleep with a full stomach. The extra weight, no sleep… it’s just not worth it when nothing good comes out of it, like “having a nice time” for example. The mere reason I went was because I didn’t go on the third night in CNY… and out of respect (sort of).

 

This time I got smart: I ate in slow motion, so I could keep holding on to my chopsticks and pretend to be busy with chewing instead of painfully bored. I was so slow that it took me more than half an hour to finish a tiny bowl of lukewarm soup (in case you’re wondering, it’s about the size of a medium cupcake you get in bakeries); and I ate noodles by the string. Then I kept on drinking tea and water… but turns out I stayed up till 3 o’clock in the morning. Not because of the tea, but I was trying to find out what is going one with my younger cousin, Jonathan.

 

In sum up in a few sentences, he picked up smoking (all typical consequences aside, considering his age and the recent increase of tax, it is basically a very unwise move from his part), hangs out with the wrong crowd, skips school very often (he has just started his first year in university) and has no friends there. The horrible part of all this is that all I did was ask my aunt how my two cousins, Jonathan and Maxwell were doing (cos they weren’t there =_=) and that was her immediate reply.

 

I wasn’t really surprised of how comfortable she was saying all these things to me; I got this impression that our family sees portraying their own children in the worst light possible as a way of socializing with each other. I took her rather nonchalant attitude as having no idea how to help her son and that she is afraid that the more she does the more she will push him further away, which has happened a couple of years ago.

 

Originally I thought she was exaggerating. He always did pretty well in high school and got into one of the best universities in HK (UST, University of Stress Science and Tension Technology). True he grew reserved and quiet, but who hasn’t (Picture me, Vincent Steven Jason Max and Jon at a family reunion, sitting quietly and staring at our bowls, occasionally murmuring a word to the person next to us)? Now that there’s only Max Jon and me left in HK, and I don’t see them as often when the other three were in HK, we don’t have much to say but me inquiring  “how’s life lately” and them politely replied “it’s Okay/Fine”. Anyway, most moms’ idea of “bad people” means kids who turn in their homework late, or that they almost failed in their last math exam.

 

So that night I asked Jason to see if he knew anything (he is closer to Jon than anyone of us ever were), then it became an MSN group discussion with Max, Jason and Jon’s ex girlfriend Polly. Turns out the things my aunt said weren’t exaggerated; they were greatly understated. Him being forced to leave school after this semester if he goes on like this is just the tip of the iceberg. In fact, the more I learnt, the more I’m sure my aunt doesn’t really no idea how serious this has become. All these information came from Polly, who he opens up but does not listen to. I saw that as his cry for help.

 

Although we were never close I have this strong urge to help him, even thought it really isn’t in my power to get him out of this mess. All I can do is to talk to him, try to get him share his thoughts with me, and see if we could come up with a solution to his problems. But the thing is he doesn’t open up to people… I plan to ask him out for lunch or something and tell him his options, and tell him the ordeal I’ve been through in my first year in university too… My biggest concern is that he doesn’t know who to turn to, and he doesn’t need someone to state the obvious like “smoking is no good for you/those friends of yours are bad Bad people/Do well in school”. I just hope he will give me (or anyone who can guide him) a chance to listen to his problems, and me being able to let him know that he’s not alone.

 

Sigh. Nothing good really comes out from dinner with (my) relatives, does it.