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| What a woman. Back in my grandmother's days, girls that marry into the family had to do all the chores. Their mother-in-laws would bark at them to do this and that. Woman, especially when they were young, had virtually no rights during this period in China. The men ruled over every aspect of the family. I've always known of this Chinese tradition because of all the cantonese dramas I've watched growing up, but I've only recently found out that this was the period my grandmother lived through. She wasn't like the rest of them. My grandmother never once had to wash, clean, or cook for my grandfather's family, and that was only one of her conditions when she agreed to marry my grandfather. Another condition was that she would leave my grandfather if he ever cheated on her, even if she bore his children. The last condition was that my grandfather had to take her out of their hometown to see the rest of the world. My grandfather fulfilled all of these.
On Tuesday, I drove my grandmother to several doctor's offices and to the hospital she was going to have surgery at to get all the tests and paper work done. Today she had surgery. When my mom & grandmother was ready to leave for the hospital this morning, she woke me up to say goodbye. I assured her that everything will be alright, and that I'll behave at home. I remember praying over and over for God to protect her before going back to sleep.
Around 1:30 am, my mom called me from the hospital to tell me that my grandmother was still in surgery. It should've ended at 11:30. My mom then told me the nurse mentioned something about cancer, but before she could explain, the horrible reception at the hospital cut her off. I panicked, and tried calling her back. I must've called around ten times, but still no answer. I thought about just going to the hospital, so I went to get ready. In the midst of this, my mom somehow made it home. She told me everything went smoothly and that they were only checking the cells for cancer. We went back to the hospital.
When I was young, my dad's side of the family favored my brother. The relatives that lived closes to us from his side of the family were my grandparents and aunt. They especially loved my brother because not only was he male, but he was also the eldest grandchild of my grandmother's eldest son. (Side note: My grandpa from my dad's side had two wives. My dad was the eldest child of the second wife.) Both my parents worked, so my grandparents took care of my brother and I after school. My brother went to my dad's grandparents' house after school while my grandmother from my mom's side took care of me. I consider myself very blessed as a child. While my brother went to my other grandparents' house to study and to do his homework, my grandmother and I spent the evenings at malls, fast food joints, and numerous playgrounds. My childhood in Hong Kong involved years of endless fun. I played at school, and I played after school. As a result of this arrangement, I've always loved my grandmother from my mom's side more. While the grandparents from my dad's side always scolded me every chance they got, my grandmother from my mom's side always commented on how she enjoyed my spunky attitude.
I can't imagine life without this grandmother. When we moved to the states, she came with us as well. She's been living with my family ever since. Today was a lonely one without her presence in the house. I miss her so much though I've already visited her twice today.
My grandma once told me that she really enjoys conversing with me. She told me she haven't said half the things she has with me than with my mother. She said I was easy to talk to, and very mature for my age. When I was in jr. high and high school, I didn't spend a lot of time with my grandma. Since I've started commuting to school this year, I've spent so much more time at home than I did before. During the mornings when everyone else is away, my grandma and I often have very good conversations. I was reminded of how close we used to be when I was a kid. Sure, I've always thought we were always pretty close, but I know I've neglected her as I got older. I'm really glad we're back in the relationship we're in.
I've never wished and prayed for anyone else to be converted to Christianity more than I have for my grandmother. When I was a kid, I used to pray for God to choose all these different family members to be His, but I remember only truly wanting and meaning for my grandmother to be chosen. I don't pray too often anymore, but when I do, I still pray for her. I don't know if I can bear my grandmother dying before believing in Christ. If there's one wish I want to come true more than any other, it is this one. Though surgery went well this time, my grandmother is still very old. I don't know how many more years there'll be left in her life, and it pains me to see how little I can do to help anything.
My grandmother will be at the hospital for at least a few more days. I told her I'll bring my ukulele and serenade her with songs. To the idea of that, she managed a light chuckle. I'll be heading over to the hospital again shortly.
"If heaven and hell decides that they both are satisfied, illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs. If there's no one else beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark." | | |
| I was once told by a high school teacher that it only takes 15 minutes of each class for them to form conceptions of each student on the first day of the school year. Of course, I'm sure those conceptions change as they get to truly know each of the students over the course of year.
At the beginning of this summer, I discovered that no one I meet for the first time thinks I'm Chinese. It's like in one year, I transformed from being Chinese to almost every other asian ethnicity but my own. I've been perceived as Hawaiian, Indonesian, Korean, Filipino, Thai, Cambodian, and even Vietnamese. Maybe it's the curly hair cause I've been tanned all my life, but the mix-up seem to be more of a recent thing. Well, I've been mistaken for a different race all my life, but not nearly as often as now, which is all the time.
While I was waiting for a class to start on campus last week, some salon marketer came over and commented on how I appeared like a hippie, and asked if I was a surfer. Honestly, I don't think I dress like a hippie nor do I act as a hippie. I've only been called a hippie once prior to last week. I have no idea what gave that lady the notion that I was a hippie. She did comment on how I was wearing a pair of sandals, was that why she thought I was a hippie? But come on, we're in Southern California, the weather calls for year-round sandal wearing.
Half an hour ago, I was at the gas station. When I was waiting for the owner to walk back into his store, he commented on how I was probably on my way to a party. I had to tell him twice that I was heading home to study after my business was done here for him to finally believe me. I don't know what gave him the idea that I was going to a party. I was wearing sandals, a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and sweater... how did that appearance give him the idea of partying?! Although I would actually show up at a party dressed like that cause I'm Sharon, but most college girls probably wouldn't. Was it just solely because I'm young, and that I was out that gave him the idea of party?
So I guess my question is, what drives us to form opinions of people the moment we see them? It's not something we do voluntarily, but simply a course of action that follows every time. Is it because we want to understand everyone, so we try to categorize almost instantly? I don't know. I'm not sure. I guess I'll leave this topic open.
Whenever two people meet there are really six people present. There is each man as he sees himself, each man as the other person sees him, and each man as he really is. _William James
Oh yeah, I guess another question is: How difficult is it for someone to change their perspectives of someone else once their opinions about that particular person has been formed? | | |
| I used to think that all the schoolwork I had due the next day was what kept me up, but really... I knew that was just a front. In fact, even when it was mainly schoolwork, there were always still other reasons that kept me from doing the work earlier. Nothing is ever as simple as we'd like to conceive them to be.
Tonight, it's schoolwork, but mainly because of other troubles on my mind as well. It makes me wonder, when exactly do troubles get so thick to a point where it's too much? When does it actually seem like I won't be able to get through it? Thankfully, since I'm still asking this as a question, I haven't gotten to that point yet.
When I worry about my financial situation, I still have a roof over my head and food on the table. How is it that I can talk about being broke, and actually come very close to having almost no money, and still not change much of my lifestyle? Is this the culture I've grown to be in? My friends and I talk about being broke all the time, and yet we still drive the cars we do, and go out and eat the way we do. Honestly, I am probably worse off than a lot of my friends. I've talked about being broke for a long time, but now I am actually broke. I eat $1 frozen dinners when it's up to me. I haven't gone snowboarding all season because I can't afford it. I no longer have the means to purchase the things I desire for. Yet I'm still in the warm comforts of my bed as I write, and tomorrow I'll still drive my v8 engine, gas-muzzling Benz to school. School... it never seemed to be a privilege for me. I've always imagined college to be where I would be because I can be. I take it for granted.
What does it mean for a girl my age, in a third world country, to be broke? Does it mean that she has to eat the leftovers on the plate just as a customer leaves and before the busboy shoos her away? Does it mean that she doesn't even have a basic structure over her head at night? Does it mean working 12 hours a day in dangerous working conditions or does it mean that no one would even hire such a girl for 'proper' work?
What would keep such a girl up at night? It won't be school because I'm sure she won't be able to afford it. Would it be being afraid for her own safety? Would it be because it's so cold out to a point where she won't be able to fall asleep or would it be the feeling of starvation that keeps her up?
So I ask again, in a world of suffering, why should I be so blessed? Tonight I started out by thinking of how awful things were for me. I thought about how much I wanted a Canon 5D Mark II, and how I can't afford it. As the night went on, I actually discovered things to be much worse, and it wasn't just about not being able to afford the luxurious toys & vacation trips in life anymore. But now I'm here... here where I realize how blessed I really am. While I still sip on the best ginger tea I've ever had the privilege to taste & to bring back to the states with me, I am thankful that God has been so lovingly gracious with me. | | |
| I was on my way to school when I saw a large dog crossing an intersection. He was quite a smart fellow... used the crosswalks and at the right time too. I noticed he didn't have a collar or a tag. It started drizzling a few minutes ago. He was practically drenched already. For a moment I contemplated stopping and taking him with me. But I quickly remembered the two dogs I already have, and how territorial Cupcake is, so I went on my way.
I thought about the homeless dog when I was in class, when I was out at my mom's early birthday celebration dinner, and now. I wonder where he'll sleep tonight, and what he's doing right now. Is he afraid at night, or is he fearless? Can he even sleep, uncertain of his own safety?
I'm definitely more compassionate towards homeless animals (dogs in particular) than I am with people. Maybe it's because it seems like they're so innocent, and unable to provide for themselves. Dogs are simple... all they really want is a home, and for someone to love them, unlike people. I've said it before, I'd save my two dogs in an event of a fire before I save some of my own extended family members. I know a lot of people question my ethics in hypothetical situations like that, but what are they going to do about it... it's my decision.
When it's cold, Cupcake likes to go under my comforter and then stick her head out the edge for air. She's really clever like that. I adopted Cupcake from the Humane Society a few years back. Joshi was the one who chose her really. Sometimes I imagine how her life was like before we adopted her. When I first took her out for walks, she used to walk in circles around me, as if there was an invisible perimeter bounding her. I think she got that from being caged in a 4x4 area for so long. She barks fearlessly at other dogs, but if it's anything else, she comes running back to me for refuge. I think her past owners used to abuse her. She's sleeping on my bed alongside Joshi right now.
I hate going to the Humane Society. It always makes me sad when I realize I can't save every dog there. When you pass by each cage, they bark and wage their tails with longing hope. I hate being just another disappointment. I never go anymore.
The last time I went was when I tried to find the owners of a dog I found on the streets. She was registered with the Downey district, but the registration was so long ago, they didn't have updated information on the owner's whereabouts anymore. I wonder what ever happened to her.
Life is strange like that. One moment, you can feel like the world is your playground, and that your future contains endless possibilities of finding happiness. It gives me a sense of peace when I'm in that place. Though another rather small & insignificant moment of your day can have quite a huge negative impact on you as well. Someone once said that if the world contained no evil and no sadness then people wouldn't know how grand all the good and joyful moments in life are.
"In the Louvre there is a picture, by Guido Reni, of St. Michael with his foot on Satan's neck. The richness of the picture is in large part due to the fiend's figure being there. The richness of its allegorical meaning also is due to his being there- that is, the world is all the richer for having a devil in it, so long as we keep our foot upon his neck."
_William James, from Lecture II of The Varieties of Religious Experience
So I guess in the end you just have to hope for more good times than bad. | | |
| When a nice swell came in after Christmas, I went out bodysurfing. I was out at 15th St Newport Beach that day, and the crowd was good because it was virtually non-existent. Most surfers were out North of the pier at Newport, if not at Huntington instead. I recall super nice glassy waves that evening. It was my first time out after a long period of not riding. I remember being intimidated by the waves, and even more so after I wiped out on my first ride. But eventually, I got my groove on, and the day turned out to be a fun one. I was out until I couldn't see anymore.
From then I rode at a few different spots in the OC, and at Windansea in SD.
About two weeks or so ago, I headed out to 17th St at Huntington Beach early one Saturday morning. The weather was gloomy, and the water was cold. The waves that day were mainly a few feet overhead but closeout. For the longest time, I tried waiting out for better sets. When they didn't come, I rode a few of the closeouts even when it meant being shut down. I learned what it meant to actually be 'head-over-heels' that day. :) I was out for a few hours, and along with 30+ surfboaders, I drifted all the way to the pier. Since it was winter, none of the beach tourists were out in the water... only alongside the beach or up on the pier. By the time a surferboarder started talking to me, my face was so numbed that I had trouble talking back, but I tried anyway. Turns out he had just been in the water for about 10 minutes, still warm and looking forward to some good waves. Near the pier, the waves happened to be less crumbly, and even bigger... though by then there were 50+ surfers all out with their boards and side by side.
While I was waiting to catch my last wave before heading in, an observer on the pier yelled out, "Hey! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you... you didn't lose your board, did you?!" I looked up to find some chubby Mexican dude chuckling at me. I wanted to yell, "Shut the hell up, kook!" Though before I could even respond, a surfboarder yelled, "Fuck you, bodysurfing rocks too... I don't see your wimpy legs down here kicking!" I felt relieved because personally, I did feel a bit out of place being the only bodysurfer & not even a good one at that. Plus, I was also the only wahine out that day. I prefer bodysurfing when the crowds are small for a couple reasons: 1) I want to get better without so many people watching every move I make, and 2) surfboarders always hogged up the good rides. Some surfers are way chill and cool to hang out with, but some of them are also such jerks towards bodysurfers. Hey man... bodysurfing is way cool. Just think about it... surfboarders ride on top, bodysurfers ride in the wave. When I catch a wave bodysurfing, it's the most beautiful thing. It reminds me of how the Bible describes marriage... the two become one flesh. When you bodysurf, the wave takes you with it, and all of a sudden it feels like the wave & you are of one entity. I love bodysurfing...
With that said, anyone want to go bodysurfing with me? :)
No boards, just a man with a pair of fins.
(This reminds me of waterpolo... no pads, no helmets, it's all you... I do miss waterpolo.) | | |
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