It's a possibility. To meet someone you connect with online, and to have something deep and long-term. It's very possible.
I met a couple from Spain today who were visiting the city and wanted to meet up with a 'local'. I took them around campus and also took a hike up the mountain to show them the amazing city-scape of Montreal from a height. They were really pleasant, a couple for more than six years, and still happily together, travelling and experiencing the world whenever they can. One is more timid, one is more extroverted, but both very friendly and smart, and we had a good hour or two talking and walking around.
I was curious how they met, and they said online. One of the guys, like me, is too shy to just go up to someone in a bar or club and start chatting someone up. And they met online, connected, and things have been going strong ever since they met. They live together, travel together, share many interests and hobbies together... I'm sure there are differences, disagreements at times, but it's possible.
In a way, despite attempts at meeting new people online, I feel somewhat reassured that there is someone out there.
All I have to do is meet him.
28 August 2010
26 August 2010
Freshers
At ten to nine I was already there, waiting in line for my turn to take the language placement test. The corridors were already crowded with students, the vast majority new freshers just about to get their first taste of university life and study.
I talked to a girl next to me, and she told me what a crazy week it has been, attending all the get-to-know-one-another events during the day, and getting "wasted" at night. All around me, young, bright-faced eighteen, nineteen year old boys and girls, chattering and laughing away, and exchanging phone numbers and information on where there is cheap booze and hot boys/girls to be had.
I felt out of place, a little uncomfortable, and felt 'old' having to tell people that I'm already a graduate student (and actually this is my second graduate degree....). I felt like I've been studying forever, on and off for a decade almost, and I'm still in university. There they were, inexperienced, young, perhaps naive, just about to start a new stage in their academic careers... they there were, wearing matching T-shirts and wristbands so that they can identify their own breed of freshers... seemingly carefree, enjoy the moment, meeting like-minded people and friends-to-be, bonding and mingling... and here I felt, having shuffled around the world from place to place, mundane, a little depressed, and unsure what I'm doing with my life. What a contrast it was...
Of course, there were the awkward and silent ones in the corner, staring at the bulletin board or trying to find something interesting to distract themselves from their (self-felt or self-imposed?) feeling of isolation. But, at one point I thought of just getting out of the place and escaping all that noise and people.
When almost three hours later I finally did my placement test (which was all for nothing, because there were no more places for graduate students....), I went outside and sat down on the lawn of our campus to have lunch.
Onto the next social meet, onto the next pub crawl, onto the next dance gig... All around me were hordes of youngsters, dressed in colourful shirts with markers and scribbles of names and telephone numbers on them, wearing wigs and sombreros, drinking, partying, having and enjoying the prime of their youth (little knowing that the weight of university will strike them down in a few weeks from now...). But that did not and does not matter, not in their states of drunkenness and/or debauchery, not when they are enjoying (probably for the first time) their newfound freedoms (most likely) far away from home and the ever watchful gaze of their parents. I can just imagine the sense of awe and excitement of a smalltown girl or prairie boy suddenly being exposed to the city, to student life, and letting themselves go...
What sense of exhilaration, somehow also romantic sense of discovery and of newness, that must feel like.
How I ever, in my SOASian years or years at Leiden, ever felt that way too?
I talked to a girl next to me, and she told me what a crazy week it has been, attending all the get-to-know-one-another events during the day, and getting "wasted" at night. All around me, young, bright-faced eighteen, nineteen year old boys and girls, chattering and laughing away, and exchanging phone numbers and information on where there is cheap booze and hot boys/girls to be had.
I felt out of place, a little uncomfortable, and felt 'old' having to tell people that I'm already a graduate student (and actually this is my second graduate degree....). I felt like I've been studying forever, on and off for a decade almost, and I'm still in university. There they were, inexperienced, young, perhaps naive, just about to start a new stage in their academic careers... they there were, wearing matching T-shirts and wristbands so that they can identify their own breed of freshers... seemingly carefree, enjoy the moment, meeting like-minded people and friends-to-be, bonding and mingling... and here I felt, having shuffled around the world from place to place, mundane, a little depressed, and unsure what I'm doing with my life. What a contrast it was...
Of course, there were the awkward and silent ones in the corner, staring at the bulletin board or trying to find something interesting to distract themselves from their (self-felt or self-imposed?) feeling of isolation. But, at one point I thought of just getting out of the place and escaping all that noise and people.
When almost three hours later I finally did my placement test (which was all for nothing, because there were no more places for graduate students....), I went outside and sat down on the lawn of our campus to have lunch.
Onto the next social meet, onto the next pub crawl, onto the next dance gig... All around me were hordes of youngsters, dressed in colourful shirts with markers and scribbles of names and telephone numbers on them, wearing wigs and sombreros, drinking, partying, having and enjoying the prime of their youth (little knowing that the weight of university will strike them down in a few weeks from now...). But that did not and does not matter, not in their states of drunkenness and/or debauchery, not when they are enjoying (probably for the first time) their newfound freedoms (most likely) far away from home and the ever watchful gaze of their parents. I can just imagine the sense of awe and excitement of a smalltown girl or prairie boy suddenly being exposed to the city, to student life, and letting themselves go...
What sense of exhilaration, somehow also romantic sense of discovery and of newness, that must feel like.
How I ever, in my SOASian years or years at Leiden, ever felt that way too?
25 August 2010
Goal-lessness
Just talking with a friend, and at one point the conversation turned uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because it turned to me and what I'm doing.
Procrastinating is what I do most, if not all the time. I should be studying, researching for my thesis, but instead I'm blogging about my random feelings and ranting. I should make goals what I want to do by year's end, but instead I'm going out on one of my many cycle rides to forget about it all. I should start collecting papers to file my application to immigrate, but I put that all in the back of my mind (and the drawer), and instead try to find every day things to keep myself busy, or at least, lead myself to think that I'm "too busy" to do what I must eventually do. Yes, procrastinate, putting things off because I'm afraid of doing them, afraid of the outcome, even if their not negative ones necessarily.
And I notice it's a terrible trend in my life. I don't want to deal with my life. I don't want to make plans or goals or organise my life in a neat and scheduled way like others do, and perhaps everyone should do. I dread dealing with my personal affairs, dread having to sit down and give my life a real think... exactly because it's my life, and I don't take care of it too well. When it comes to another person's life or problems, I can imagine myself rushing and jumping up to the "rescue"... but when it's my life, I stall, make excuses and (literally sometimes) sleep on it until another time, another day when I really have to face things...
It's really a negative quality of my life, of living, and I know it myself. My friend patted me on the shoulder, and said he'll help make sure I make a goal and stick to it. Little goals, little steps, not necessarily life-changing ones, but even small steps can make you feel accomplished and worthy of taking another step.
When I was worshipping my ancestors earlier today, I thanked them for all they have given me... but partly, I also (perhaps selfishly) asked for their blessing and protection... I feel as I grow older (and not necessarily wiser) I feel more and more lost, direction-less and living day to day in a drift driven by goal-lessness. Maybe the people who have gone before me can given me the invisible push, inspiration and strength to continue with my life, and to make sure that it is indeed my life, as I make of it every step of the way...
Procrastinating is what I do most, if not all the time. I should be studying, researching for my thesis, but instead I'm blogging about my random feelings and ranting. I should make goals what I want to do by year's end, but instead I'm going out on one of my many cycle rides to forget about it all. I should start collecting papers to file my application to immigrate, but I put that all in the back of my mind (and the drawer), and instead try to find every day things to keep myself busy, or at least, lead myself to think that I'm "too busy" to do what I must eventually do. Yes, procrastinate, putting things off because I'm afraid of doing them, afraid of the outcome, even if their not negative ones necessarily.
And I notice it's a terrible trend in my life. I don't want to deal with my life. I don't want to make plans or goals or organise my life in a neat and scheduled way like others do, and perhaps everyone should do. I dread dealing with my personal affairs, dread having to sit down and give my life a real think... exactly because it's my life, and I don't take care of it too well. When it comes to another person's life or problems, I can imagine myself rushing and jumping up to the "rescue"... but when it's my life, I stall, make excuses and (literally sometimes) sleep on it until another time, another day when I really have to face things...
It's really a negative quality of my life, of living, and I know it myself. My friend patted me on the shoulder, and said he'll help make sure I make a goal and stick to it. Little goals, little steps, not necessarily life-changing ones, but even small steps can make you feel accomplished and worthy of taking another step.
When I was worshipping my ancestors earlier today, I thanked them for all they have given me... but partly, I also (perhaps selfishly) asked for their blessing and protection... I feel as I grow older (and not necessarily wiser) I feel more and more lost, direction-less and living day to day in a drift driven by goal-lessness. Maybe the people who have gone before me can given me the invisible push, inspiration and strength to continue with my life, and to make sure that it is indeed my life, as I make of it every step of the way...
24 August 2010
Feast
I was asked once how I do it, and why I do it. How a boy who grew up in the 'west' still clings onto some traditions and superstitions of the 'east', and why anyone would go through all the trouble to prepare an elaborate feast for guests you can't even see.
I'm not sure how, but I know why. Deep down inside, there is still a part of me that is rooted in the culture and place of my homeland, in the beliefs and practices of my ancestors. Though nobody, not even my mum, told me I have to lay the table and cook up ten different dishes, I do it. Not out of a sense of duty, but more out of a sense of willingness and joy. I want to 'treat' the ghosts who wander the world to a big meal... I want to 'invite' my ancestors and my dad over for a big get-together.
I don't see a contradiction between worshipping ghosts and the deceased and that ('western') part of me which believes strongly in the power of reason and rationality, and the freedoms and rights of the individual. If anything, I think the inherent part of me that clings onto the traditions of the past enriches my experience of life and fulfil me with experiences of the little things in this world that matter. As the Taiwanese saying goes, when you eat the fruit, pray to the tree (that bears the fruit; 吃水果，拜樹頭)... another one is when you drink, think of the source (of water; 飲水思源)... all that I am today, all that I have come from somewhere. And everyday that I am living I should remember people like my dad, and his mum and dad, who toiled and sacrificed all their lives so that people like me can have a more comfortable and better future...
Like a lot festivals, the Ghost Day centres on food. So once again, on this fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar, I got up (relatively) early and started preparing. Actually, the preparations were well under way a few days ago when I began buying all sorts of materials for cooking. Various kinds of green vegetables, tins and cans of pickles, packets of cookies and sweets, bottles of soft drinks. And yesterday, I went out of my way to Chinatown in order to buy half a roast duck and a whole chicken for today's big feast.
Turnip and mushroom soup with duck stock, stir-fried gourd with dried shrimps and garlic, chives with garlic, egg omlete with dried pickled turnip, shrimp with peas stir-fry, pakchoy with shitake mushrooms... just some of the things I cooked up within two hours. By midday, besides
a big basket filled with fresh kiwis, oranges, peaches and a pineapple, the table was so crowded
with dishes I had to stack some plates on top of each other. I laid down a few pairs of chopsticks, three little tea cups, a few rice bowls, and stood before the table with my hands clasped before my chest...
"Ancestors, grandma, grandpa, dad..." I said silently, and invited them over to eat. It's not much, nothing elaborate or exquisite, just a few things that I know how to make (or buy...). Some things, like squid and eel, roast duck and chicken, I know were favourites of dad.
It's all mainly a gesture, a symbol, a reminder to myself, to them if they are really here still, that I still hold them dear to my heart. That they are still in my thoughts and memories...
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