Sunday, September 27, 2009
Hi.
Will be back to this next week. Had hoped to write something today, but am too tired and bummed to function.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
How good is patriotism?
As a result of the power outage today, my parents, grandmother and I ventured out in to the strident, intimidating crowds of Asian families trolling Rowland/Hacienda Heights restaurants for Sunday dinner. Of all places, we chose Earthen Restaurant, an immensely popular place that served good Taiwanese food and absolutely splendid Green Onion Pancakes.
Following is a snippet of a conversation, translated from Taiwanese:
MOM: Ingrina, will Alan eat any of this food? [Seafood Noodle Soup]
INGRINA: Yeah, I think so. He likes udon noodles, so that should be okay.
GRANDMA: When he comes here, you should teach him how to eat stuff like this.
ARGH #1
----------------------------
I stay home to keep Grandma company since she does not like to go outside. I also must save money, so I eat at home, and that means that Grandma sees everything I eat. My family and Dublin flatmates can attest that I have been taking special care to keep a healthy diet, making sure that I have enough nutrients and giving up a lot of snacking. Of course, I have always had trouble cooking and eating Chinese/Taiwanese food, and since adopting a pescetarian diet, I have had more trouble. I prefer to make my own food since I know my own taste buds and can keep watch of what actually enters my acidic stomach.
One day I am craving some tuna pasta and make it for lunch and dinner. Grandma inquires after my meal, and when I show her she just remarks to my dad, "She eats what Americans eat."
This is not an unusual statement among Asians, but that was the first time I heard it. I asked my dad to clarify my understanding of the essentially derogatory statement and he said, "Taiwanese people think Americans eat junk and don't know what to really cook."
I have thenceforth heard that statement from Grandma many times.
ARGH #2, 3, 4, etc etc
----------------------------------------
Where am I going with this?
Being at home for an extended period of time has been one of the most hands-on cultural exchanges and educational experiences in my life. Since being in Boston for three and a half years and Europe for six months, I have come back to sunny California with a more global perspective (may I note, though, that this does not mean I am very global at all, just compared to how I was before). I'll say it now: I like diversity, interracial mingling and a lets-just-be-friends world. Unfortunately, as a result, I have become annoyed with patriotism for any specific culture or country, which I especially feel among my family and surrounding people. I understand that to preserve a culture a group of people must have pride and feel a special bond unlike what another country or people can offer. This is important for diversity, politics, tolerance, creating cozy communities, rallying excitement and joy, "RAH RAH RAH!" blah blah blah.
But can we please just BACK OFF IT sometimes??
Every culture has its wonderful and fascinating aspects of tradition, dining, dress and history, yet every culture is limited as well. I don't believe that there is a culture out there that cannot teach another something new, or that any one culture is superior to another. We're all different and raised in incomparable situations. I'm all for progressive change and such, but I think you can do it without that the irritating patriotism.
It bothers me when my aunts and grandparents will try to assimilate an in-law into their culture and won't necessarily try anyone else's. Of course, my boyfriend is going to try all this Asian junk that sometimes even I don't like, but will they ever try Northern Irish food? I appreciated my parents for going out to Northern Ireland and visiting his family, inquiring about traditions and lifestyles. That's a great gesture, you know? And I think we could all use some of that willingness to meet people where they are.
And what if, what if, I actually relate more to his culture than theirs, even if I was raised in it? Will they simply dismiss me as a rebel and go on their own merry ways of thinking?
History has shown significant evidence that masses of people die out of patriotism, and don't you go saying it was always for religion. If you study the religions closely and bring the perpetrators' intentions against them, you'll see that they are not as attune with each other. Many devastating events are caused by prideful people who must prove that their religion, nation or ethnicity is superior; many families are broken up because they cannot accept an in-law of a different race.
I'm not promoting a "why can't we be friends?" message. I'm just saying that each side has to do its own part to reach out to the other before holding itself on so high a pedestal.
So on that note, two things:
1) Let me eat what I want.
2) If he doesn't want to eat it, he doesn't have to "be taught."
It bothers me when my aunts and grandparents will try to assimilate an in-law into their culture and won't necessarily try anyone else's. Of course, my boyfriend is going to try all this Asian junk that sometimes even I don't like, but will they ever try Northern Irish food? I appreciated my parents for going out to Northern Ireland and visiting his family, inquiring about traditions and lifestyles. That's a great gesture, you know? And I think we could all use some of that willingness to meet people where they are.
And what if, what if, I actually relate more to his culture than theirs, even if I was raised in it? Will they simply dismiss me as a rebel and go on their own merry ways of thinking?
History has shown significant evidence that masses of people die out of patriotism, and don't you go saying it was always for religion. If you study the religions closely and bring the perpetrators' intentions against them, you'll see that they are not as attune with each other. Many devastating events are caused by prideful people who must prove that their religion, nation or ethnicity is superior; many families are broken up because they cannot accept an in-law of a different race.
I'm not promoting a "why can't we be friends?" message. I'm just saying that each side has to do its own part to reach out to the other before holding itself on so high a pedestal.
So on that note, two things:
1) Let me eat what I want.
2) If he doesn't want to eat it, he doesn't have to "be taught."
Friday, September 4, 2009
On 'The Great Divorce' by C.S. Lewis
I would like to believe that others could have second chances in the afterlife, and that Hell isn't quite the fiery furnace we imagine and fear it to be. The Bible, however, doesn't seem to show much evidence of Hell being anything else but flames and suffering. Still, I think Lewis is on to something when he contains suffering within the minds of his ghosts, who are obviously unhappy for eternity - not unlike how they were on earth. I can understand that being sufficient torture to be a Hell...living in this type of life for eternity. I already cannot imagine or bear the thought of living to 80 in these circumstances; who can stand living in it forever? Not the prettiest thought.
What strikes me most, though, is not the picture of Heaven and Hell, but the conversations the character overhears between ghosts and spirits. The ghosts are, more often than not, unrelenting in acknowledging their wrongs, and therefore cannot be joyful or willing to meet God in the mountains. Lewis, I believe, means to show the way that humans are so unwilling to surrender a core part of themselves to God - that part that makes them feel important, wanted, needed. The thought is disappointing, to be fair to them. Other human faults lie in the inability to forgive their trespassers. As hard as it is for me to forgive and forget in my own life, I suppose I have to recognize that I have done wrong to my loved ones and acquaintances, which leaves me no better or with any more right to demand justice in my favor.
My heart breaks for the woman who lost her son - whose wouldn't? That has to be the greatest sadness, and it's unfortunate to know that she let her grief consume her. That's the power of human emotion - the ability to blind and devour you until you lose your grip on life while living it. I wonder how I would react in her position. Would I eventually let it go, cease to think that I did not deserve to have such a precious life taken away from me? Or would I clasp onto memories and "what if?"s for the rest of my life? What you think you would feel as you observe from the outside is very different from as you experience it, raw and painful and too real.
You see, whatever Heaven or Hell is I choose not to dwell upon; it is out of my control and understanding. I know only that I want to be with my Lord and that I must surrender my life to Him for that. What Lewis challenges here in this journey is the paradigms of our minds that we don't think are so bad - that we're owed certain things in life to remain happy. I want to believe that I can relinquish my vanities to God, but I have to admit the difficulty of doing that so far, even now while I have loads of time on my hands.
All this said, I still believe that I'll always have a hard time with theology books. Want to know the way to my heart? Fiction, baby. Gotta love the fiction.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
More than just words on a page. Look again.
The recent article in The New York Times about students choosing their own books for English classes has been quite a topic for debate. When I read it, I immediately posted it on my Facebook so that others can see the appalling level teachers must stoop to in order to teach this spoiled and decadent generation. No matter the end results of the study, which were actually favorable to this new method of teaching, I still stand by assigned reading of literature classics.
But then, I do love books, and have always loved reading and writing. My mother has shown me pictures of me sitting at my desk, hunched and scribbling away in a journal when I was but five years old; I remember lugging 800-page novels around in sixth grade and reading an Agatha Christie book every day for an entire summer. It's nothing to brag about, really, just an illustration of my passion for reading. I'm well aware that not everyone has the same feelings, or the same desire to read what has been deemed to be appropriate literature.
So is my opinion influenced by my own interests? Am I just an old man who believes classics pave the way for a more erudite generation? People I talk to about books don't seem as keen on catching up on the classics I've missed when I was studying for the SATs and applying incessantly to colleges and internships. It's a shame to think how I could not read for leisure during school for fear of distractions. Video and computer games were never an issue for me.
I think back to my days of reading Heart of Darkness and Great Expectations - oh, how agonizing it was sometimes to keep reading a book I was never interested in! I had to pore over Shakespearean texts for hours to understand the underlying madness of everyone's eloquent soliloquies (though I do love my Shakespeare!), and endure the stupidity of Tess D'Urberville for a good few hundred pages. However, I also remember the glorious wrap-up discussions of each book. All the analyses and slow progress were worthwhile when we pieced together the beautifully woven masterpieces. It was always an adventure to go through great writing and fiction in an English class, and I wonder how no one else feels the same. It's so stimulating! Contemporary fiction and trashy bestsellers cannot brew such rich and fascinating discussion in a high school or university classroom. Of course, plenty of good writing comes out all the time today, but there is something so precious about classics that I feel a good deal of sadness at seeing them rejected among younger students now.
I would like to think that letting students choose their books at the beginning would allow them to appreciate reading so they can get into the classics. I would not necessarily support letting them choose their own reading through the entire course, but if their own choices would open their eyes to see that reading might take some more effort and time than a film or television show, hey, I'm all for it. That doesn't seem to be so plausible, though, as some teachers have noted in their experiment. I highly doubt that they'll be happy about having their ability to choose taken away after they've enjoyed a nonsense book such as Twilight (absolute rubbish!).
Books are windows into human nature, the blunderings of fallen man, the resonating cries of the soul's desires. If you can't see a reflection of some part of yourself, you see one of the mad killer in the news or the ruthless dictator in history. They can torment you with the internal battles of those laden with sin and save you with the heart-wrenching redemption of the wretched. In that it challenges all your perceptions of grace, luck, blessings, wisdom, intellect, honor, society and love. I don't believe in a good book that doesn't have some echo of human need or frustration somewhere. If only more can see that as they read, and admire the minds of men who are able to compose and articulate the repressed need of every human in the world, books just might be able to thrive and survive in the digital age.
And if you disagree, look again.
For if we let go of these classics that have circulated so well amongst the highest intellectual class, we might lose all that their gatherings and ramblings and musings have surfaced over the years - the reality that man is an insatiable being, too noble and too intelligent to be satisfied by the empty promises of earthly instant gratification.
But then, I do love books, and have always loved reading and writing. My mother has shown me pictures of me sitting at my desk, hunched and scribbling away in a journal when I was but five years old; I remember lugging 800-page novels around in sixth grade and reading an Agatha Christie book every day for an entire summer. It's nothing to brag about, really, just an illustration of my passion for reading. I'm well aware that not everyone has the same feelings, or the same desire to read what has been deemed to be appropriate literature.
So is my opinion influenced by my own interests? Am I just an old man who believes classics pave the way for a more erudite generation? People I talk to about books don't seem as keen on catching up on the classics I've missed when I was studying for the SATs and applying incessantly to colleges and internships. It's a shame to think how I could not read for leisure during school for fear of distractions. Video and computer games were never an issue for me.
I think back to my days of reading Heart of Darkness and Great Expectations - oh, how agonizing it was sometimes to keep reading a book I was never interested in! I had to pore over Shakespearean texts for hours to understand the underlying madness of everyone's eloquent soliloquies (though I do love my Shakespeare!), and endure the stupidity of Tess D'Urberville for a good few hundred pages. However, I also remember the glorious wrap-up discussions of each book. All the analyses and slow progress were worthwhile when we pieced together the beautifully woven masterpieces. It was always an adventure to go through great writing and fiction in an English class, and I wonder how no one else feels the same. It's so stimulating! Contemporary fiction and trashy bestsellers cannot brew such rich and fascinating discussion in a high school or university classroom. Of course, plenty of good writing comes out all the time today, but there is something so precious about classics that I feel a good deal of sadness at seeing them rejected among younger students now.
I would like to think that letting students choose their books at the beginning would allow them to appreciate reading so they can get into the classics. I would not necessarily support letting them choose their own reading through the entire course, but if their own choices would open their eyes to see that reading might take some more effort and time than a film or television show, hey, I'm all for it. That doesn't seem to be so plausible, though, as some teachers have noted in their experiment. I highly doubt that they'll be happy about having their ability to choose taken away after they've enjoyed a nonsense book such as Twilight (absolute rubbish!).
Books are windows into human nature, the blunderings of fallen man, the resonating cries of the soul's desires. If you can't see a reflection of some part of yourself, you see one of the mad killer in the news or the ruthless dictator in history. They can torment you with the internal battles of those laden with sin and save you with the heart-wrenching redemption of the wretched. In that it challenges all your perceptions of grace, luck, blessings, wisdom, intellect, honor, society and love. I don't believe in a good book that doesn't have some echo of human need or frustration somewhere. If only more can see that as they read, and admire the minds of men who are able to compose and articulate the repressed need of every human in the world, books just might be able to thrive and survive in the digital age.
And if you disagree, look again.
For if we let go of these classics that have circulated so well amongst the highest intellectual class, we might lose all that their gatherings and ramblings and musings have surfaced over the years - the reality that man is an insatiable being, too noble and too intelligent to be satisfied by the empty promises of earthly instant gratification.
Friday, August 28, 2009
To laugh or to cry
In my 22 years of living, of lazy summers and pent-up winters and procrastinating springs, never have I felt as useless as I do at the moment as an unemployed college graduate. Yes, we're in a recession, yes more qualified professionals are also recently unemployed, but the thought of others sharing my misery brings little comfort. It only darkens the shade of gloom that so ominously hangs above each of our heads, I'm sure.
Over the last few weeks of telling people that I'm on a job search and trying to keep them updated, there has definitely been a drop in my dignity. I was able to snag an interview with Lakeshore, where my cousin works, and I thought the interview was only okay. They put me in for consideration as a Research Assistant, but that was a no go, of which I was notified via snail mail. I was prepared after a couple of days of no response. I was hopeful even though I had the experience of being hired right away because a company wanted me that much, so I know when the prospect does not look good.
As I told Alan, a rejection is a rejection, but it's at least a reply. It's strange how you are grateful that a company responded at all, even if it is just to say that you did not get the job. You feel like a recognized human being rather than just another lemming trying to get into that wee spot and just falling down into the abyss.
I'm not terribly worried about whether I'll find a job, honestly. I know things will work out for me sooner or later. What makes me itch nowadays is boredom and the feeling that I am contributing absolutely nothing to society. I am a nomad in my own house with family coming here and there and all over, so that I cannot even stay in the same room for very long. It's very unsettling and has made me so lazy and unkempt beyond caring. I'll go do my exercise, but at home, it's on the ground doing a 1000-piece puzzle that's missing a piece or sitting in front of the computer. Cleaning the house and watching my diet (as a pescetarian, it's important) are not the priorities they used to be.
For a while I was motivated. I read and read and read. Books, magazines, newspapers, I consumed all that before and enjoyed the free time tremendously. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months (excuse the cliche), life became a bit...dull. You can only read so much without having to discuss your own opinions with someone, who would preferably not have to speak with you through a computer screen. You can also only job search so much until your searches begin yielding positions to which you've already applied.
I'm pretty done with wallowing, though. As you get older, chocolate only does so much to make you feel better; it actually makes your teeth hurt. And it probably makes you fat, though I still refuse to believe that to this day. So I've been determined to make myself useful in even the smallest way.
If you can rise to the challenge, though, that's the good thing about being unemployed. It really teaches you to be more inventive and contribute in a less conventional way. It also teaches self-motivation and discipline. I am on no one else's deadlines, but if I am to succeed I must be strict with myself and my time. There's something uniquely satisfying in creating your own project and wanting to see it through to the end. Shamefully, I don't think I've ever done that in college or in high school.
So that's me in a nutshell. I'm unemployed with determination and a very low sense of dignity. I laugh at the ridiculous sight of me sitting on the floor sweating over a jigsaw puzzle or getting passionately angry at another player for beating me in tetris; I cry at the thought of being so agonizingly useless in my pajamas every day. I laugh that I'm grateful for a rejection letter; I cry that I have to keep searching. I laugh at the situation and how ridiculous it is; I cry at the situation and how degrading it is.
Either way, it helps me cope through these times.
Well, if you give me a good book I can dive into I might just forget all these silly troubles.
Over the last few weeks of telling people that I'm on a job search and trying to keep them updated, there has definitely been a drop in my dignity. I was able to snag an interview with Lakeshore, where my cousin works, and I thought the interview was only okay. They put me in for consideration as a Research Assistant, but that was a no go, of which I was notified via snail mail. I was prepared after a couple of days of no response. I was hopeful even though I had the experience of being hired right away because a company wanted me that much, so I know when the prospect does not look good.
As I told Alan, a rejection is a rejection, but it's at least a reply. It's strange how you are grateful that a company responded at all, even if it is just to say that you did not get the job. You feel like a recognized human being rather than just another lemming trying to get into that wee spot and just falling down into the abyss.
I'm not terribly worried about whether I'll find a job, honestly. I know things will work out for me sooner or later. What makes me itch nowadays is boredom and the feeling that I am contributing absolutely nothing to society. I am a nomad in my own house with family coming here and there and all over, so that I cannot even stay in the same room for very long. It's very unsettling and has made me so lazy and unkempt beyond caring. I'll go do my exercise, but at home, it's on the ground doing a 1000-piece puzzle that's missing a piece or sitting in front of the computer. Cleaning the house and watching my diet (as a pescetarian, it's important) are not the priorities they used to be.
For a while I was motivated. I read and read and read. Books, magazines, newspapers, I consumed all that before and enjoyed the free time tremendously. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months (excuse the cliche), life became a bit...dull. You can only read so much without having to discuss your own opinions with someone, who would preferably not have to speak with you through a computer screen. You can also only job search so much until your searches begin yielding positions to which you've already applied.
I'm pretty done with wallowing, though. As you get older, chocolate only does so much to make you feel better; it actually makes your teeth hurt. And it probably makes you fat, though I still refuse to believe that to this day. So I've been determined to make myself useful in even the smallest way.
If you can rise to the challenge, though, that's the good thing about being unemployed. It really teaches you to be more inventive and contribute in a less conventional way. It also teaches self-motivation and discipline. I am on no one else's deadlines, but if I am to succeed I must be strict with myself and my time. There's something uniquely satisfying in creating your own project and wanting to see it through to the end. Shamefully, I don't think I've ever done that in college or in high school.
So that's me in a nutshell. I'm unemployed with determination and a very low sense of dignity. I laugh at the ridiculous sight of me sitting on the floor sweating over a jigsaw puzzle or getting passionately angry at another player for beating me in tetris; I cry at the thought of being so agonizingly useless in my pajamas every day. I laugh that I'm grateful for a rejection letter; I cry that I have to keep searching. I laugh at the situation and how ridiculous it is; I cry at the situation and how degrading it is.
Either way, it helps me cope through these times.
Well, if you give me a good book I can dive into I might just forget all these silly troubles.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
America's a melting pot, what can I say??
I am beginning to do jigsaw puzzles. I am officially very, very bored. I almost looked up "Things to do out of Boredom," but decided that my life has not come to that point. Yet.
Being home with my grandma has gotten me thinking about the difficulty of keeping one's heritage when born as an American. It's a bit shameful to think that I cannot hold much of a conversation in Taiwanese anymore, despite its being my first and native language. Spending time with grandma is often strenuous and, frankly, a bit irritating - though this is to my chagrin. I feel the frustration that many non-English speakers much feel around my presence. Even explaining something as simple as why I chose a certain jigsaw puzzle over another makes me never want to speak in Taiwanese ever again. Having to stumble and struggle over the simplest of sentences forces you to just skim over the surfaces of topics and stay content that way:
"Did you eat yet?"
"What are you having for lunch? Is it good?"
"Did you sleep okay?"
It's nice to ask after her well-being, but I'm afraid that's where the topics end.
"Did you eat yet?"
"What are you having for lunch? Is it good?"
"Did you sleep okay?"
It's nice to ask after her well-being, but I'm afraid that's where the topics end.
Dating a Northern Irish guy poses its problems as well. The major issue that my mom and grandma's generations have with mine is that we bring home people who cannot speak Taiwanese. So not only are they incommunicable, they also have a radically reduced chance of understanding each other's values and cultures.
Apparently it's also very shocking that my parents are not giving me a hard time about dating someone who is not Taiwanese or Chinese, or even Asian, for that matter. I was not aware of this until my mother enlightened me yesterday night about the surprise going on in both of our generations.
I don't understand that type of mindset. I mean, we're in America, we have been raised up as Americans, speaking English and going to American public schools and colleges. What else did they expect? If they had wanted to keep us Taiwanese, then we should have stayed in Taiwan or in Brasil so we could have been better at speaking Taiwanese and snag those Taiwanese men. But see, even the Brasilian Taiwanese people we met spoke mostly Portuguese.
I DO understand that sometimes situations just made the decision to move to America inevitable. I just think that parents should be more understanding that given the environment in which we were brought up, it should not be so surprising that we connect with someone not of the Taiwanese ethnicity.
Of course, I also have a problem with California and, to a greater extent, America. I feel anxious, stressed and competitive ALL THE TIME. It's a very odd sensation to feel perpetually. It's natural yet disconcerting.
So what I'm saying is, please just take me away to Europe.
I don't understand that type of mindset. I mean, we're in America, we have been raised up as Americans, speaking English and going to American public schools and colleges. What else did they expect? If they had wanted to keep us Taiwanese, then we should have stayed in Taiwan or in Brasil so we could have been better at speaking Taiwanese and snag those Taiwanese men. But see, even the Brasilian Taiwanese people we met spoke mostly Portuguese.
I DO understand that sometimes situations just made the decision to move to America inevitable. I just think that parents should be more understanding that given the environment in which we were brought up, it should not be so surprising that we connect with someone not of the Taiwanese ethnicity.
Of course, I also have a problem with California and, to a greater extent, America. I feel anxious, stressed and competitive ALL THE TIME. It's a very odd sensation to feel perpetually. It's natural yet disconcerting.
So what I'm saying is, please just take me away to Europe.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Expressions of the Stifled
Verse 1
Do words mean anything at all
Do mere sticks and stones make you fall
If there's one thing that I've found
It's that unpleasant things should make no sound
Goodbye words that sting
Farewell inner suffering
Again I store you away
Chorus
Roll away, roll away
There's nothing left to say
Roll away, shameful stains
You've left me just with pain
Let me stay, let me stay
Don't leave me without face
Don't let me vanish without a trace
Verse 2
Hear my soul's desperate pleas
It's crying out and searching for release
If I shut out my desires
Would that make my status higher?
Goodbye words that sting
Farewell inner suffering
Again I store you away
---------------------------------------------------
I'm debating whether I should add a bridge to that. What do you think?
Lately incomplete songs have been forming in my head and on paper as the only way I can express my frustrations. I can never actually finish these songs, but what I create satisfies me for the time being. I'm considering actually completing the songs and trying to get my theory and skills improved so I can be more creative in the melodies I compose. It certainly has been helpful to me. I have three or four more on the way, and in the course of the next few days, I hope to make some progress on them.
Do words mean anything at all
Do mere sticks and stones make you fall
If there's one thing that I've found
It's that unpleasant things should make no sound
Goodbye words that sting
Farewell inner suffering
Again I store you away
Chorus
Roll away, roll away
There's nothing left to say
Roll away, shameful stains
You've left me just with pain
Let me stay, let me stay
Don't leave me without face
Don't let me vanish without a trace
Verse 2
Hear my soul's desperate pleas
It's crying out and searching for release
If I shut out my desires
Would that make my status higher?
Goodbye words that sting
Farewell inner suffering
Again I store you away
---------------------------------------------------
I'm debating whether I should add a bridge to that. What do you think?
Lately incomplete songs have been forming in my head and on paper as the only way I can express my frustrations. I can never actually finish these songs, but what I create satisfies me for the time being. I'm considering actually completing the songs and trying to get my theory and skills improved so I can be more creative in the melodies I compose. It certainly has been helpful to me. I have three or four more on the way, and in the course of the next few days, I hope to make some progress on them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
