There are people you meet in life that unknowingly and unexpectedly bring great changes and surprises to you life. They are people you always feel a connection toward, feel a great deal of gratitude toward, however long time passes.
This week, one such person in my life came to visit, partly to attend the conference I've been helping out at. I invited her to dinner at my place, and showed her how much of a positive influence she has been in my life.
Over the two day conference, we would occasional meet in the corridors, and talk about how we used to work together, reminisce those crazy days staying late at the office in the run-up to the event we were organising together. She began as my boss, and soon became like an older sister, who guided me, gave me advice and inspiration, and helped me obtain opportunities that I otherwise would never have realised or known existed. In difficult times, when I lost my dad, she was there to support me, emotionally and also in my work while I was on leave. Even now, when I mention her, I am filled with such gratitude and praise for all that she has done to help me transition into a new phase of my life here in Canada.
Last night, at an alumni dinner, as professors spoke about how the institute is like a family, I really felt I was so lucky to be in that room, all thanks to my friend and mentor. As the evening ended, I went up to her and toasted her.
"Thank you for everything you've done to change my life," I said, as I lifted up my half full glass of wine. She looked visibly touched, and gave a a pat on the shoulder as she said she is proud of me. Proud of me, even though deep down I feel like I've not really achieved much academically or professionally in the past two years or so. Proud of me, because life does not always need to be measured in the number of articles you can publish, the number of books you've read or number of speeches you have given.
"I believe in you", she said, "I'm waiting for you to write something one day", alluding to the fact that she has for a long time been admiring my writings, and hopes that one day I could write something and be published. As she left, she gave me a book, Girl in Translation, written by a friend of hers, which I immediately began reading, and liking.
Yes, there are people you meet in life who so unexpectedly bring into life great changes, who believe in you and fill you with ambition and hope. And my friend and mentor is one of these people I am often so grateful toward and humbled in having the great fortune of meeting.
06 May 2011
happy birthday!
Mum sounded cheerful when I called her. Though I was I. A daze still, after having slept late helping to organise a conference, it completely escaped me what day it was until she said "Oh you must have called to wish me happy birthday!"
And wish her happy birthday I did. A few days ago she already received my birthday card and gifts. I had nothing more to add than wish her happiness and good health, a life free of worry an free of pain. Mum said a number of people called her, including my brother and my sister in law , as well as friends and oddly enough her real estate agent ( who actually went to the trouble of buying her a lovely cake!)
It's been a difficult time for her, and in Taiwan the 59th year is often seen as a unsettling one, a kind of obstacle just before reaching the great age of 60, which symbolises a complete cycle in life. ( as they say life begins at 60)...
She said she went to the hospital yesterday and made a plaster mould of her head and neck in preparation for a long 12 session radiotherapy she intends to undergo. "the doctor said it'll keep the tumour in the spine under control and shrink it somewhat." the hope is that she will have less aches and sores and be less dependent on painkillers, which over the last two months she has gradually needed to increase the dosage and frequency of intake. "Hopefully by the end of it all, I'll be ok to travel to see you".
Yes, I wish her happiness, good health, and that she can again travel the world which
she so much enjoys doing, more than anything else....
And wish her happy birthday I did. A few days ago she already received my birthday card and gifts. I had nothing more to add than wish her happiness and good health, a life free of worry an free of pain. Mum said a number of people called her, including my brother and my sister in law , as well as friends and oddly enough her real estate agent ( who actually went to the trouble of buying her a lovely cake!)
It's been a difficult time for her, and in Taiwan the 59th year is often seen as a unsettling one, a kind of obstacle just before reaching the great age of 60, which symbolises a complete cycle in life. ( as they say life begins at 60)...
She said she went to the hospital yesterday and made a plaster mould of her head and neck in preparation for a long 12 session radiotherapy she intends to undergo. "the doctor said it'll keep the tumour in the spine under control and shrink it somewhat." the hope is that she will have less aches and sores and be less dependent on painkillers, which over the last two months she has gradually needed to increase the dosage and frequency of intake. "Hopefully by the end of it all, I'll be ok to travel to see you".
Yes, I wish her happiness, good health, and that she can again travel the world which
she so much enjoys doing, more than anything else....
03 May 2011
What is important
Mum kept on telling me to go to bed, as it was way past midnight. She likes to scold me when I go to sleep after midnight, because growing up she has told me countless times that the body, or at least certain organs, need complete rest between eleven at night and two in the morning.
But I felt like talking to her, and it has been a good while since I last spoke for more than half an hour with her. Perhaps I felt like talking to her, listening to her thoughts and what she has been up to, because earlier in the evening a dear friend, whom I have not met for a while, came over for dinner. We caught up and exchanged notes on life and its counterpart, death. She and I have both lost people dear in our lives in recent years, and in that loss is a bond of humanity we share. A sense of humanity in remembering people who touched us once, and still touch us when we think of them... a sense of humanity in longing, in mourning, in overcoming pain with the recognition that life goes on, life must go on, even after someone is gone. It is a rare sense of humanity that makes us human, makes us know and appreciate that in this great big world there are others who share your pain, share your loss, and who are not afraid to reach out to comfort you in times of need.
"What is important in life...?" mum said at one point in the conversation. More a rhetorical question than anything else, for really, at the end of the day, what is more important in life when it is so fragile, so short? The more I encounter troubles people make, noises people brew, conflicts and hatred people foster, the more I feel like detaching myself from it all.
What is important in life... beyond the titles, the signs of material wealth, the sense of self-importance and sense of self-righteousness we are so vulnerable and susceptible to illness and death that can wipe everything away.
In no way is it thinking or being nihilistic or suggesting that there is no purpose in life. But sometimes it helps to stop, to shut out the world around you, and reflect on what is really important in life....
Sutty
She lay quietly in her metal cage, and was disinterested by all the noise and people around her, just as all the people and noise seemed to be disinterested in her. I spotted her, and knew almost immediately it was her. A shiny, smooth black coat, little white paws, big, innocent looking eyes that somehow elicited my pity ever since I first laid eyes on her and her sad life story on her online profile. Out of all the cats available that day for adoption, I chose her, and she came home with me, perhaps reluctantly, that afternoon. And ever since we have been together.
Two years it already has been... Those first nights Sutty (then known as Panda) would cry, as if homesick, and she would often hide or move away when I approach her. Today, she struts around as if she were queen of the household, head held high, relaxed and quietly monitoring everything that goes on.
I don't know what she is thinking when she sits by the window and watches the world go by... I don't know whether she feels confined or trapped in ( as someone put it) a "golden jail" being the resident cat in her new home. But I do know and am forever appreciative of the joy and warmth she has brought to my life.
The way she jumps up and down when we play together, the way she naughtily paws tomatoes and oranges I accidentally drop on the floor, the way she drinks water with her paws, the way she walks around my pillow before I fall asleep everynight... Little actions, little purrs that make me feel loved and wanted.
At times, I left her alone for weeks or months at a time... But not a day goes by when I do not think of her little head butts, little paws, and little crazy dashes around the apartment. And patiently she waits for me at home, to welcome me home faithfully and lovingly however long I have been away.
She is a special cat, full of mischief, full of life, full of character. And she, my little sweetheart, is my little black and white cat.
Two years it already has been... Those first nights Sutty (then known as Panda) would cry, as if homesick, and she would often hide or move away when I approach her. Today, she struts around as if she were queen of the household, head held high, relaxed and quietly monitoring everything that goes on.
I don't know what she is thinking when she sits by the window and watches the world go by... I don't know whether she feels confined or trapped in ( as someone put it) a "golden jail" being the resident cat in her new home. But I do know and am forever appreciative of the joy and warmth she has brought to my life.
The way she jumps up and down when we play together, the way she naughtily paws tomatoes and oranges I accidentally drop on the floor, the way she drinks water with her paws, the way she walks around my pillow before I fall asleep everynight... Little actions, little purrs that make me feel loved and wanted.
At times, I left her alone for weeks or months at a time... But not a day goes by when I do not think of her little head butts, little paws, and little crazy dashes around the apartment. And patiently she waits for me at home, to welcome me home faithfully and lovingly however long I have been away.
She is a special cat, full of mischief, full of life, full of character. And she, my little sweetheart, is my little black and white cat.
28 April 2011
Surprise gift
Next week is mum's birthday, when she'll be turning 59. The other day i momentarily relived last year's celebration, for it was the first tine in a long time that brother and me (and at the time, my sister in law) were there to celebrate mum's birthday. I can still remember her face when she saw brother walk through that door unannounced, having flown half way across the world to be there on that special say. How mum laughed and smiled as she held onto that beautiful bouquet of flowers...
I wanted to be there for mum this year, but it's barely been two months since I got back, and as important as I personally feel it is for me to be there, the fatigue of travelling, of being displaced from the comforts of my own home again, was simply too much to handle...
So instead I'll make my 'presence' felt through my absence, and I'm going to send her a little gift box. At first I didn't know what to buy mum, but my boyfriend who had just recently returned from southern France bought a lovely card with a field of lavender, and some lavender-perfumed products. Mum always loved the smell of lavender, and how soothing and calming it is, so I told my boyfriend that would be a very suitable gift, and that mum would undoubtedly be very touched. I myself bought her some coffee beans covered with dark chocloate, one of her favourites....
I was touched by the mere fact that my boyfriend thought of my mum, and remembered how I once told him about her love of the smell and sight of lavender. Today, he took the time and effort to even write in 'Happy Birthday' to her in traditional Chinese characters. As he tried to copy the difficult strokes and lines, he became somewhat frustrated that it wasn't perfect (partly also because I said there was a little mistake). I know he was really doing his best, and i tried to reassure him. perhaps he wanted to impress my mum, and he felt like he messed it up. I may not have been very patient with him, I admit, but i was proud of him for trying.
Perhaps i should have told him that there and then, told him how special I felt that card meant to me, and I believe will also be to my mum. Especially at this time when she is experiencing pain and feeling weak, all the bits of care and compassion will do wonders...
Little words, little gestures, I have always believed touch people in so many ways. And I so hope that receiving the gift package from my boyfriend and me, mum will experience moments of joy and laughter, and hope, from the heartwarming thought that somewhat out there she is cared about and loved
.
I wanted to be there for mum this year, but it's barely been two months since I got back, and as important as I personally feel it is for me to be there, the fatigue of travelling, of being displaced from the comforts of my own home again, was simply too much to handle...
So instead I'll make my 'presence' felt through my absence, and I'm going to send her a little gift box. At first I didn't know what to buy mum, but my boyfriend who had just recently returned from southern France bought a lovely card with a field of lavender, and some lavender-perfumed products. Mum always loved the smell of lavender, and how soothing and calming it is, so I told my boyfriend that would be a very suitable gift, and that mum would undoubtedly be very touched. I myself bought her some coffee beans covered with dark chocloate, one of her favourites....
I was touched by the mere fact that my boyfriend thought of my mum, and remembered how I once told him about her love of the smell and sight of lavender. Today, he took the time and effort to even write in 'Happy Birthday' to her in traditional Chinese characters. As he tried to copy the difficult strokes and lines, he became somewhat frustrated that it wasn't perfect (partly also because I said there was a little mistake). I know he was really doing his best, and i tried to reassure him. perhaps he wanted to impress my mum, and he felt like he messed it up. I may not have been very patient with him, I admit, but i was proud of him for trying.
Perhaps i should have told him that there and then, told him how special I felt that card meant to me, and I believe will also be to my mum. Especially at this time when she is experiencing pain and feeling weak, all the bits of care and compassion will do wonders...
Little words, little gestures, I have always believed touch people in so many ways. And I so hope that receiving the gift package from my boyfriend and me, mum will experience moments of joy and laughter, and hope, from the heartwarming thought that somewhat out there she is cared about and loved
.
27 April 2011
Weaker
The last few times I spoke to mum, she has audibly been weaker. It's the chemotherapy therapy every two weeks. Even if she tries hard to recover from the sideffects by eating healthy, exercising and resting well, nothing can dispel the toll that the deadly doses of chemicals that she has been injected with has on her mental and physical wellbeing. Even if mum supplements her western medicines with traditional, herbal treatments, there is only so much the body can take... Especially when she has to undergo much of it alone...
A few days ago she said her White blood cell has dropped to 3000 from all the chemotherapy she has been doing. A 'normal' count is 4500-10000 units, and White blood cells are the essential part of the body that keeps diseases and infections at bay... a low count is reflected in tiredness, and fatigue, which by the sounds of it mum is experiencing.
Just calling her, I could hear she was at the oncology ward receiving her seventh invitro chemotherapy since she began early December. When will it stop? How much more cAn she bear? And most important of all, is her condition overall improving? All I can do, however feeble, however poor, however irrelevant, is send mum my goodwishes and prayers when I sit and meditate in silence.
I hate to call her everyday an just talk about her illness, because it reminds her constantly that she is ill, and that I am concerned, even from such a great distance. She always tells me not to worry, not to let things affect my mood and my work...
But it is hard not to, especially being so far away and so powerless to do anything about things... And increasingly I feel I am not really able to talk about things to people, because frankly I feel my problems and fears are burdening them. Even to my boyfriend, however well-intentioned and willing he is to share my burdens, I now only occasionally mention things on my mind and the state of mum's health when he asks.
This blog, regardless of whether anyone reads it, regardless of the quality or the repetitiveness of the writing, is a powerful outlet for me to vent my frustrations and fears when life deals blows to me and to loved ones around me, time and time again. It is what keeps me from breaking down, from just losing that precious, precious gift of hope, and longing that one day I can look back at this all and realise I am able to overcome one of life's most challenging tasks of dealing with sickness and death...
A few days ago she said her White blood cell has dropped to 3000 from all the chemotherapy she has been doing. A 'normal' count is 4500-10000 units, and White blood cells are the essential part of the body that keeps diseases and infections at bay... a low count is reflected in tiredness, and fatigue, which by the sounds of it mum is experiencing.
Just calling her, I could hear she was at the oncology ward receiving her seventh invitro chemotherapy since she began early December. When will it stop? How much more cAn she bear? And most important of all, is her condition overall improving? All I can do, however feeble, however poor, however irrelevant, is send mum my goodwishes and prayers when I sit and meditate in silence.
I hate to call her everyday an just talk about her illness, because it reminds her constantly that she is ill, and that I am concerned, even from such a great distance. She always tells me not to worry, not to let things affect my mood and my work...
But it is hard not to, especially being so far away and so powerless to do anything about things... And increasingly I feel I am not really able to talk about things to people, because frankly I feel my problems and fears are burdening them. Even to my boyfriend, however well-intentioned and willing he is to share my burdens, I now only occasionally mention things on my mind and the state of mum's health when he asks.
This blog, regardless of whether anyone reads it, regardless of the quality or the repetitiveness of the writing, is a powerful outlet for me to vent my frustrations and fears when life deals blows to me and to loved ones around me, time and time again. It is what keeps me from breaking down, from just losing that precious, precious gift of hope, and longing that one day I can look back at this all and realise I am able to overcome one of life's most challenging tasks of dealing with sickness and death...
26 April 2011
Wondering...
The past, the story of how we came to be together, is filled with ups and downs. As wonderful and comforting the presence of his body and breath next to mine, at times, I cannot help but wonder what my boyfriend is thinking of...
Perhaps a lot of it are just imaginations feeding off of my own insecurity. To be fair, I have only myself to blame, and I cannot ask too much of my boyfriend. So if he says he wants to go to a concert with the boy he had an intense but short-lived relationship with, who I am to say no, even if I am uncomfortable with the idea?
To be honest, till this day, I still feel so insecure when I think back to those days in December, those days filled with tears, uncertainty and jealousy. I feel insecure when I am reminded of the intimate moments they shared, and it makes me wonder whether they are writing to one another, or speaking to one another when I am not around... Last I heard was that my boyfriend does not want to tell the other person that we are in a relationship, for fear of hurting the other guy's feelings. It is understandable, but part of me cannot shake off the idea that perhaps the other person is still waiting, still clinging onto hope of starting something with my boyfriend-- something I am partly responsible for breaking apart... And is not going to a concert filled with songs about love and relationships not pushing the limits?
But, really, who am I to say to my boyfriend he cannot see this or that person or restrict him from having contact with people in his past relationships? To to that would be just being a petty and vicious person who is trying to horde all of someone's affection and attention. Everyone has a past, and that is no different for my boyfriend (or for me for that matter...). He had relationships with different people before, he shared things and memories with other lovers before me, and those memories are there to stay. My boyfriend decided to be with me, and since those tumultuous days, we have had so many beautiful moments and laughs together. What is important is that he is with me now, and we should look forward to making a future together, to sharing our lives and experiences together instead of dwelling on things that have already happened...
Maybe there is nothing to worry about, because it is all in my mind. Maybe, as my boyfriend was humming this song to me the other day, he was trying to tell me something. I am someone who needs assurance, who needs to be told again and again that things are alright, because I have a tendency to think of the worst. Even if I do sometimes wonder whether his mind wonders when he is with me, we have come a long way since then, and it would be a shame if I cannot shake off all these feelings of insecurity deep down inside...
Perhaps a lot of it are just imaginations feeding off of my own insecurity. To be fair, I have only myself to blame, and I cannot ask too much of my boyfriend. So if he says he wants to go to a concert with the boy he had an intense but short-lived relationship with, who I am to say no, even if I am uncomfortable with the idea?
To be honest, till this day, I still feel so insecure when I think back to those days in December, those days filled with tears, uncertainty and jealousy. I feel insecure when I am reminded of the intimate moments they shared, and it makes me wonder whether they are writing to one another, or speaking to one another when I am not around... Last I heard was that my boyfriend does not want to tell the other person that we are in a relationship, for fear of hurting the other guy's feelings. It is understandable, but part of me cannot shake off the idea that perhaps the other person is still waiting, still clinging onto hope of starting something with my boyfriend-- something I am partly responsible for breaking apart... And is not going to a concert filled with songs about love and relationships not pushing the limits?
But, really, who am I to say to my boyfriend he cannot see this or that person or restrict him from having contact with people in his past relationships? To to that would be just being a petty and vicious person who is trying to horde all of someone's affection and attention. Everyone has a past, and that is no different for my boyfriend (or for me for that matter...). He had relationships with different people before, he shared things and memories with other lovers before me, and those memories are there to stay. My boyfriend decided to be with me, and since those tumultuous days, we have had so many beautiful moments and laughs together. What is important is that he is with me now, and we should look forward to making a future together, to sharing our lives and experiences together instead of dwelling on things that have already happened...
Maybe there is nothing to worry about, because it is all in my mind. Maybe, as my boyfriend was humming this song to me the other day, he was trying to tell me something. I am someone who needs assurance, who needs to be told again and again that things are alright, because I have a tendency to think of the worst. Even if I do sometimes wonder whether his mind wonders when he is with me, we have come a long way since then, and it would be a shame if I cannot shake off all these feelings of insecurity deep down inside...
Dream...
There was so much pain and suffering in the dream I dreamt in that state of subconsciousness and lying barely awake in the early hours of the morning.
I could see my cat, her black fur turned grey, and much thinned compared to its normally very soft and shiny texture. She was crying out in pain, her face and eyes full of sorrow as she miauwed with agony. I looked closer, and saw her skin was rife with pox, uneven bumps and oozing pus. It was such a horrible, horrible sight. I wanted to pet her and comfort her, but she weakly raised her front paws and as if to gesture me to stop before she scurried away with her tail between her hind legs... I watched her disappear, and turned to look around me... So strange it was that I was surrounded by faces of people closest to me in life. Faces of my family, my mother, my friends....
I could see my cat, her black fur turned grey, and much thinned compared to its normally very soft and shiny texture. She was crying out in pain, her face and eyes full of sorrow as she miauwed with agony. I looked closer, and saw her skin was rife with pox, uneven bumps and oozing pus. It was such a horrible, horrible sight. I wanted to pet her and comfort her, but she weakly raised her front paws and as if to gesture me to stop before she scurried away with her tail between her hind legs... I watched her disappear, and turned to look around me... So strange it was that I was surrounded by faces of people closest to me in life. Faces of my family, my mother, my friends....
25 April 2011
news
"Are you crying?" she asked, as she continued describing her condition. No, I wasn't crying but I was very close to. My boyfriend sat next to me, stroked my hand to comfort me, even though I kept on mouthing to tell him to continue playing tennis. We had gotten up especially early to play tennis, and I felt bad that I was taking his precious time sitting next to me.
Mum went in to the hospital today, and saw the neurosurgeon. In the last few days, the pain in her left arm, shoulder and back has intensified, even worse than ever before. It's so intense sometimes that she starts sweating from the pain she's feeling... It's so intense whether sitting down, lying down or walking, she feels he pain, and it's overwhelming her concentration and thoughts...
I cannot but feel sorry for her... But there's nothing, absolutely boning I can do from this distance to alleviate her pain and sorrow. Even if I were right next to her, I cannot help her, for so helpless, so useless am I. She received new painkillers from the doctor, but really the best is to operate to remove the large tumour pressing down on her spine and nerves. If not done soon, the entire spine collapse and leave her completely immobile. "That would be worse than death," mum said... But operating may very well cancel her plans to come see me, may very well mean that she has to be hospitalised for some time to come.
In moments like this, there is no conclusion, no certainty, no joy. All I could do was muster all my courage to assure her, to tell her to take good care and to bear with the pain, even if deep down my mind and my world is thrown into confusion and despair. Scenes of packing up, boarding a plane and leaving flashed across my mind...
To add to the pain, mum moved onto talking about my late father, and to remember how very caring and loving he was, what sacrifices he made and what he left behind for us all... That only triggered images of his face, his smile, his death, and my sorrow.
By the end of the conversation I was exhausted, drained. Perhaps also the result if very few hours if sleep, but I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the security of my blanket. Just sleep it all away, so I can hide in the darkest and most well hidden places of dreams and nightmares.
But I felt more guilty that my friend wanted to stay with me, to make sure I am alright, even though he does not know fully what is going on in my mind at this moment... I dont feel like talking, i feel myself shut down, partly as a measure of self protection, partly because I don't want to infect anyone, especially not him, with my negativity and burden him with the heavy weight on my shoulder.
There are such feelings of helplessness, of utter despair, and of guilt... I don't want to feel this way, I don't want the pity or to take the time if others to have to come and pick me up and drag the confidence and happiness out of me...
Originally I wanted to swing by his place and to work together with him at a table ( something we both find so cute and so productive) But I just wanted to go home, to be lane to collect my mind and thouhgts.
Worse still, we were planning to go to a pop concert tonight, and because of all this, really I am not in the mood of going anymore. Yet that also means he doesn't want to go, all because of me and my problems. Who am I to ruin other people's feelings and happiness with my problems and insecurities?
I could not help mum and take her pain away... I ruined a perfectly wonderful day for my boyfriend... what next ? In moments like this there is no conclusion, no joy, no answer. But I cannot keep in feeling like this because it affects not only me, but the feelings of people I care about most...
Mum went in to the hospital today, and saw the neurosurgeon. In the last few days, the pain in her left arm, shoulder and back has intensified, even worse than ever before. It's so intense sometimes that she starts sweating from the pain she's feeling... It's so intense whether sitting down, lying down or walking, she feels he pain, and it's overwhelming her concentration and thoughts...
I cannot but feel sorry for her... But there's nothing, absolutely boning I can do from this distance to alleviate her pain and sorrow. Even if I were right next to her, I cannot help her, for so helpless, so useless am I. She received new painkillers from the doctor, but really the best is to operate to remove the large tumour pressing down on her spine and nerves. If not done soon, the entire spine collapse and leave her completely immobile. "That would be worse than death," mum said... But operating may very well cancel her plans to come see me, may very well mean that she has to be hospitalised for some time to come.
In moments like this, there is no conclusion, no certainty, no joy. All I could do was muster all my courage to assure her, to tell her to take good care and to bear with the pain, even if deep down my mind and my world is thrown into confusion and despair. Scenes of packing up, boarding a plane and leaving flashed across my mind...
To add to the pain, mum moved onto talking about my late father, and to remember how very caring and loving he was, what sacrifices he made and what he left behind for us all... That only triggered images of his face, his smile, his death, and my sorrow.
By the end of the conversation I was exhausted, drained. Perhaps also the result if very few hours if sleep, but I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the security of my blanket. Just sleep it all away, so I can hide in the darkest and most well hidden places of dreams and nightmares.
But I felt more guilty that my friend wanted to stay with me, to make sure I am alright, even though he does not know fully what is going on in my mind at this moment... I dont feel like talking, i feel myself shut down, partly as a measure of self protection, partly because I don't want to infect anyone, especially not him, with my negativity and burden him with the heavy weight on my shoulder.
There are such feelings of helplessness, of utter despair, and of guilt... I don't want to feel this way, I don't want the pity or to take the time if others to have to come and pick me up and drag the confidence and happiness out of me...
Originally I wanted to swing by his place and to work together with him at a table ( something we both find so cute and so productive) But I just wanted to go home, to be lane to collect my mind and thouhgts.
Worse still, we were planning to go to a pop concert tonight, and because of all this, really I am not in the mood of going anymore. Yet that also means he doesn't want to go, all because of me and my problems. Who am I to ruin other people's feelings and happiness with my problems and insecurities?
I could not help mum and take her pain away... I ruined a perfectly wonderful day for my boyfriend... what next ? In moments like this there is no conclusion, no joy, no answer. But I cannot keep in feeling like this because it affects not only me, but the feelings of people I care about most...
23 April 2011
Old friend
I prepared the spare bedroom for her visit, and placed by the bedside a balloon I bought around two and a half years ago when she came to see me. Then, I was still trying to find my steps in Montreal, and who would have known only two and something years later, I'd have my own little place I call home, and my lovely little cat.
She and I have always had a special bond, perhaps because of our somewhat opposite personalities. I admire her for her courage, her aspirations and dreams, despite coming from a rough childhood... And I guess she admires me for my ability to care and extend a hand to others, and my ability to remain calm despite the odds of life. So in many ways, we are a great match, and since we met on university, we've had a great many wonderful adventures together.
An episode caused a strain on our relationship, and we were not really in touch for a few months. Even so, I think there's a bind between us that will not easily sever. We had shared many memories together, many tears, many personal and dark secrets that only she and I know about. She was there when I received the phone call that dad was breathing his last breaths... And I vividly remember she shed tears for my pain. And I was there, as a complete surprise, to accompany her on a very difficult journey to discover her past. We've had long conversations, emails exchanges, slept next to one another. It's like a relationship we had, but even better in some ways because there was none of the complications of love, jealousy that can tear couple apart. It was a relationship of respect, trust, and genuine care for one another's wellbeing and personal growth.
I took her to the river bank yesterday afternoon and just sat and watched he river flow by.
So vast the river was, and how small we both felt. Yet over the sound of the flowing river, we reminded one another of stories, exchanged lives and realised how far we have come since we first met, since that union of an unlikely duo between a scared and worried me and a confused, frustrated her.
"do you remember....?" Yes, there are many things and experiences that have tied our lives together. She as establishing her life in the Netherlands, and I was just about to take my first steps towarda Canada. Somehow, in that two years of so our lives merged before we parted ways, we enriched one another's lives in so many ways.
"People in my life know about you," she said at one point. It just shows how significant an imprint we have made in our processes of self discovery, and acceptance of the individuals we both are.
We nay not have seen one another much in recent months, and we may not have communicated much either, but she is often in my mind, as I am I in hers.
She and I have always had a special bond, perhaps because of our somewhat opposite personalities. I admire her for her courage, her aspirations and dreams, despite coming from a rough childhood... And I guess she admires me for my ability to care and extend a hand to others, and my ability to remain calm despite the odds of life. So in many ways, we are a great match, and since we met on university, we've had a great many wonderful adventures together.
An episode caused a strain on our relationship, and we were not really in touch for a few months. Even so, I think there's a bind between us that will not easily sever. We had shared many memories together, many tears, many personal and dark secrets that only she and I know about. She was there when I received the phone call that dad was breathing his last breaths... And I vividly remember she shed tears for my pain. And I was there, as a complete surprise, to accompany her on a very difficult journey to discover her past. We've had long conversations, emails exchanges, slept next to one another. It's like a relationship we had, but even better in some ways because there was none of the complications of love, jealousy that can tear couple apart. It was a relationship of respect, trust, and genuine care for one another's wellbeing and personal growth.
I took her to the river bank yesterday afternoon and just sat and watched he river flow by.
So vast the river was, and how small we both felt. Yet over the sound of the flowing river, we reminded one another of stories, exchanged lives and realised how far we have come since we first met, since that union of an unlikely duo between a scared and worried me and a confused, frustrated her.
"do you remember....?" Yes, there are many things and experiences that have tied our lives together. She as establishing her life in the Netherlands, and I was just about to take my first steps towarda Canada. Somehow, in that two years of so our lives merged before we parted ways, we enriched one another's lives in so many ways.
"People in my life know about you," she said at one point. It just shows how significant an imprint we have made in our processes of self discovery, and acceptance of the individuals we both are.
We nay not have seen one another much in recent months, and we may not have communicated much either, but she is often in my mind, as I am I in hers.
22 April 2011
dealing with people
To be honest, I have always been somewhat of a loner. Though not the 'classic loner' who is content being alone and left alone, but someone who enjoys time alone, but at the sane time crave human contact and care.
A lot has changed in the past few years, and a pot I have had to face. And deal with, all as part of growing up. More and more I'm realising who I am, what kind of person I can be. There are sides of me that even i find endearing. But there are also flaws in my character that make me someone who is difficult to get close to, and difficult to comprehend.
And being in a relationship, especially my first one where I live in the same city as my partner makes me realise more and more about myself and how I am seen by others. There is a loving side of me that I have rarely wanted ti admit, let alone appreciated-- a side that as my boyfriend and I are getting more steady, I see coming out and surprising even me. Who would have thought I'd just spontaneously just want to kiss him or hold his hand as we're walking down the street? It feels so natural, so affectionate, and there is I think no greater gesture how much you care (dare I say love?) someone than wanting to feel his body and warmth, and not being afraid to do so in public.
But there are sides of me that come out too when we have disagreements or when I feel tensions between us. So far, most things have come and gone within a short period of time, and we always seem able to talk things through and 'make up' relatively quickly. In those moments of tensions or frustrations, I see just how clearly how impure the mind can so easily become, how things can sit and simmer, how I am a typical kind of passive-aggressive type who when upset 'shuts down/out' and becomes cold and silent and almost impenetrable, or even very defensive. Of course, it usually takes two to argue or have a difference of opinion, but I realise more and more sometimes when the heat of the moment is gone, the anger, frustration goes too. And it never hurts to admit and say out loud that you've been wrong (or been wronged), because after all we are all human, and all trying to find our place in this world, in living with one another in peace.
And I for one is a slow beginner trying to make sense of myself and how I can relate and live with others.
A lot has changed in the past few years, and a pot I have had to face. And deal with, all as part of growing up. More and more I'm realising who I am, what kind of person I can be. There are sides of me that even i find endearing. But there are also flaws in my character that make me someone who is difficult to get close to, and difficult to comprehend.
And being in a relationship, especially my first one where I live in the same city as my partner makes me realise more and more about myself and how I am seen by others. There is a loving side of me that I have rarely wanted ti admit, let alone appreciated-- a side that as my boyfriend and I are getting more steady, I see coming out and surprising even me. Who would have thought I'd just spontaneously just want to kiss him or hold his hand as we're walking down the street? It feels so natural, so affectionate, and there is I think no greater gesture how much you care (dare I say love?) someone than wanting to feel his body and warmth, and not being afraid to do so in public.
But there are sides of me that come out too when we have disagreements or when I feel tensions between us. So far, most things have come and gone within a short period of time, and we always seem able to talk things through and 'make up' relatively quickly. In those moments of tensions or frustrations, I see just how clearly how impure the mind can so easily become, how things can sit and simmer, how I am a typical kind of passive-aggressive type who when upset 'shuts down/out' and becomes cold and silent and almost impenetrable, or even very defensive. Of course, it usually takes two to argue or have a difference of opinion, but I realise more and more sometimes when the heat of the moment is gone, the anger, frustration goes too. And it never hurts to admit and say out loud that you've been wrong (or been wronged), because after all we are all human, and all trying to find our place in this world, in living with one another in peace.
And I for one is a slow beginner trying to make sense of myself and how I can relate and live with others.
17 April 2011
Dad's pillow case
I was cleaning up the recently evacuated spare room, and on the bookshelf I saw a box I've not seen or touched for many months.
It's a box with inside a light green pillow case, the very pillow case dad had slept on just before he passed away. I opened it, and gave it a sniff... That scent, is it still as I remember it, that smell I have when my hair is a little greasy having not washed it for a day or two? Or perhaps my longing and missing is playing tricks on my memory and smell sensation...
I peeked inside the box, but dared not open the wrapping around the pillow case. I'm afraid to see the strands of hair dad lost, afraid to see a blood stain he made in those final days...
Quietly I put the box away, till another day when I feel up to opening it, and opening up my memories...
It's a box with inside a light green pillow case, the very pillow case dad had slept on just before he passed away. I opened it, and gave it a sniff... That scent, is it still as I remember it, that smell I have when my hair is a little greasy having not washed it for a day or two? Or perhaps my longing and missing is playing tricks on my memory and smell sensation...
I peeked inside the box, but dared not open the wrapping around the pillow case. I'm afraid to see the strands of hair dad lost, afraid to see a blood stain he made in those final days...
Quietly I put the box away, till another day when I feel up to opening it, and opening up my memories...
By the river
Feeling down, weighed down by news of my ex-flatmate's continuing rumour-spreading, I jumped on my bike and biked toward the river.
It's windy, cold, not quiet yet Spring, but already the land and the river is awake from Winter's deep sleep. I had a sudden urge to call my mum, so I called her.
"listen to the water, mum," I said, " when you come, I want to take you here..." somehow that was an emotional moment, one that made my heart ache a little , and my eyes water.
There was a strong strong wind, chilling on my cheeks, roaring through the as-yet bare trees and wild waves...
It's windy, cold, not quiet yet Spring, but already the land and the river is awake from Winter's deep sleep. I had a sudden urge to call my mum, so I called her.
"listen to the water, mum," I said, " when you come, I want to take you here..." somehow that was an emotional moment, one that made my heart ache a little , and my eyes water.
There was a strong strong wind, chilling on my cheeks, roaring through the as-yet bare trees and wild waves...
16 April 2011
At the ballet
I started planning this day for a few weeks now, ever since I started seeing posters advertising Moulin Rouge- the Ballet at metro stations downtown. Since my boyfriend and I never really had Valentines Day together, I have been planning an occasion to organise something special, and it seemed the perfect opportunity.
Moulin Rouge is a wonderful love story, involving romance, jealousy, separated lovers and death. When I first watched the movie a few years ago, I was so touched that I cried in the latter half of the film. At the time, fresh in my first relationship, I was just beginning to experience and feel what the power of love is, and what it drives people to do. So today, going to watch the performance with my boyfriend has more significance.
I wasn't really sure how he would respond to the ballet, and in fact he actually screwed up his face when he realised where we were going... He's not really a fan of classical arts, and that initial reaction was extremely disappointing to see, especially as I wanted to bring in a little element of surprise and excitement.
During the performance, whenever the stage darkened for a scene change, I would steal little kisses, and almost throughout we held one anothers hands. It was a warming and enjoyable two hours together, though I'm kind of unsure what he really thought of the show... but the music, colourful dresses and elegant movements of the dancers brought to life a beautiful love story before us on stage, and I think toward the end he was more surprised by the performance.
Happy Valentines!
Moulin Rouge is a wonderful love story, involving romance, jealousy, separated lovers and death. When I first watched the movie a few years ago, I was so touched that I cried in the latter half of the film. At the time, fresh in my first relationship, I was just beginning to experience and feel what the power of love is, and what it drives people to do. So today, going to watch the performance with my boyfriend has more significance.
I wasn't really sure how he would respond to the ballet, and in fact he actually screwed up his face when he realised where we were going... He's not really a fan of classical arts, and that initial reaction was extremely disappointing to see, especially as I wanted to bring in a little element of surprise and excitement.
During the performance, whenever the stage darkened for a scene change, I would steal little kisses, and almost throughout we held one anothers hands. It was a warming and enjoyable two hours together, though I'm kind of unsure what he really thought of the show... but the music, colourful dresses and elegant movements of the dancers brought to life a beautiful love story before us on stage, and I think toward the end he was more surprised by the performance.
Happy Valentines!
"I wish her well..."
"I wish her well..." I have said that a couple of times since my former flatmate moved out of my apartment. Perhaps I have said that a couple of times too many that it sounds so jaded and fake....
Perhaps to the outside world, I may seem heartless to kick a poor girl who has no stable income out onto the streets, but two weeks after she moved out, a number of her belongings are still in my apartment and taking up space. I wrote to her a week ago, asking her to move her things as soon as possible, but so far I have not received a reply. Perhaps the tone of my message was too direct, because I basically wrote that after all I have done in the past few months to accommodate her, the least she could do is move her things when she moves out. No reply...
Instead, word got back to me that the girl may have even telling a mutual friend that I am lying about my mum's impending visit just to get rid of her... Imagine that... Lying about a visit I have been hoping and planning for two years to get rid of someone who has been staying in my apartment for free for seven months! Why, if I wanted to get rid of her, do I need to have a reason in my own house, for which I am paying the rent? I had given her more than ample time to move, and she turns around to 'bite' me like this... Perhaps I should have kicked her out sooner rather than now, much later, after she has gotten comfortable living off of me...
The situation really makes me feel frustrated and hurt, and I really am not in the mood for confrontation. All I want is my room back, all of it. I just don't want to have to see boxes of her things every time I walk into that room and be reminded that she was ever around. Even today, two weeks after she moved out, she still has my key, and can at any moment just walk back into my apartment without notice.
If I am seen as mean and ill-willed, then so be it. But really, deep down inside, I just wish to get rid of what has been a negative and exhausting influence in my life for the last couple of months and put this all episode behind me. Even after hearing rumours that she is telling people things about me behind my back, I harbour no ill feelings to her. In fact, I feel sorry for her... How can anyone have such short term memory and conveniently forget the things I've done to help her get on her feet, and just think of e as mean-spirited as soon as I ask her to leave my house? If someone were to help me and shelter me for so long and do so not expecting anything in return, the least I could do is show a little gratitude, and not start spreading untrue rumours or play the innocent victim being forcibly evicted.
"I wish her well..." I really do, as fake and as hypocritical perhaps as it may sound. But I know how I feel toward her, and that is enough.
Perhaps to the outside world, I may seem heartless to kick a poor girl who has no stable income out onto the streets, but two weeks after she moved out, a number of her belongings are still in my apartment and taking up space. I wrote to her a week ago, asking her to move her things as soon as possible, but so far I have not received a reply. Perhaps the tone of my message was too direct, because I basically wrote that after all I have done in the past few months to accommodate her, the least she could do is move her things when she moves out. No reply...
Instead, word got back to me that the girl may have even telling a mutual friend that I am lying about my mum's impending visit just to get rid of her... Imagine that... Lying about a visit I have been hoping and planning for two years to get rid of someone who has been staying in my apartment for free for seven months! Why, if I wanted to get rid of her, do I need to have a reason in my own house, for which I am paying the rent? I had given her more than ample time to move, and she turns around to 'bite' me like this... Perhaps I should have kicked her out sooner rather than now, much later, after she has gotten comfortable living off of me...
The situation really makes me feel frustrated and hurt, and I really am not in the mood for confrontation. All I want is my room back, all of it. I just don't want to have to see boxes of her things every time I walk into that room and be reminded that she was ever around. Even today, two weeks after she moved out, she still has my key, and can at any moment just walk back into my apartment without notice.
If I am seen as mean and ill-willed, then so be it. But really, deep down inside, I just wish to get rid of what has been a negative and exhausting influence in my life for the last couple of months and put this all episode behind me. Even after hearing rumours that she is telling people things about me behind my back, I harbour no ill feelings to her. In fact, I feel sorry for her... How can anyone have such short term memory and conveniently forget the things I've done to help her get on her feet, and just think of e as mean-spirited as soon as I ask her to leave my house? If someone were to help me and shelter me for so long and do so not expecting anything in return, the least I could do is show a little gratitude, and not start spreading untrue rumours or play the innocent victim being forcibly evicted.
"I wish her well..." I really do, as fake and as hypocritical perhaps as it may sound. But I know how I feel toward her, and that is enough.
Disappointment
Earlier this week, mum told me that she intends to come visit me soon, and just yesterday I opened my inbox to a surprise email from my uncle cheerfully entitled ¨Mum can go to Canada now!¨
How happy I was, so happy I could have jumped from my seat. There was a date, provisionally 27 May, and there were all these plans, of flying first to the West Coast of Canada, then taking the Rocky Mountaineer that she always dreamed of taking, and then staying with me in Montreal for a while before she heads to Europe to visit brother (and hopefully also the sister-in-law, if she is able to be there, pending immigration approval...)
So wonderful, it all sounds. Imagine the beauty that can be enjoyed, the fun that can be had, the memories that can be made. For the last couple of weeks mum has been telling me how she's been preping herself for the trip, how she has been diligently exercising everyday so she can regain her health and strength to make a long trip overseas... I, on this side of the world, have been looking at places I could take her, browsing websites for prices, times and schedules, and imagining how close I am to fulfilling that dream of mine of welcoming her to my Canadian home...
And then today, she wasn't so sure any more. She woke up with a sore back, and her arm has started hurting again. It comes and goes, of course, but what if she is on the road and starts to suffer unbearable pain? "It probably isn't a good idea to travel for so long, and to be so far away from home..."
I was disappointed, but I cannot blame her. "Just wait and see how things go..." I was disappointed, but in a way, it is not unexpected. The state of mum's health is no longer like it used to be, and she cannot just pack her bags and leave like other people. Maybe part of the fear is premature, but there is always a risk that something serious may happen on the road, and then what will we do, especially if we are far away from her doctors who know her condition? Plans and bookings are now on hold. She is going to see a doctor next week and is very likely going to start a new treatment. Who knows how she will feel after that...
I guess we'll just have to wait and see, and not celebrate too soon, even though I have been telling friends and neighbours that my mum is (maybe) finally coming, health pending.
How happy I was, so happy I could have jumped from my seat. There was a date, provisionally 27 May, and there were all these plans, of flying first to the West Coast of Canada, then taking the Rocky Mountaineer that she always dreamed of taking, and then staying with me in Montreal for a while before she heads to Europe to visit brother (and hopefully also the sister-in-law, if she is able to be there, pending immigration approval...)
So wonderful, it all sounds. Imagine the beauty that can be enjoyed, the fun that can be had, the memories that can be made. For the last couple of weeks mum has been telling me how she's been preping herself for the trip, how she has been diligently exercising everyday so she can regain her health and strength to make a long trip overseas... I, on this side of the world, have been looking at places I could take her, browsing websites for prices, times and schedules, and imagining how close I am to fulfilling that dream of mine of welcoming her to my Canadian home...
And then today, she wasn't so sure any more. She woke up with a sore back, and her arm has started hurting again. It comes and goes, of course, but what if she is on the road and starts to suffer unbearable pain? "It probably isn't a good idea to travel for so long, and to be so far away from home..."
I was disappointed, but I cannot blame her. "Just wait and see how things go..." I was disappointed, but in a way, it is not unexpected. The state of mum's health is no longer like it used to be, and she cannot just pack her bags and leave like other people. Maybe part of the fear is premature, but there is always a risk that something serious may happen on the road, and then what will we do, especially if we are far away from her doctors who know her condition? Plans and bookings are now on hold. She is going to see a doctor next week and is very likely going to start a new treatment. Who knows how she will feel after that...
I guess we'll just have to wait and see, and not celebrate too soon, even though I have been telling friends and neighbours that my mum is (maybe) finally coming, health pending.
13 April 2011
Tribute
The other day, I sat in my kitchen and quietly sipped my cup of tea. Chamomille with a dab of maple syrup. As I drank it, I thought of a lady I never knew, but even so, I smiled at the thought.
It may seem so strange, but a friend of mine contacted me recently and said that that very day would be her mother's first birthday after her death late last year. She said she would not be sad and would not be crying. Instead, my friend said she would make her usual cup of morning coffee and toast to her mother, to the "grande dame" who she was. She asked if I could do the same, even though it may seem so "silly"...
I was honoured that she would even ask me to commemorate her, and of course I did exactly that without any second thoughts. I wrote back to her, and sent her a picture of my steaming cup of tea. "Of course it is not 'silly'" I wrote to her. I also do the same every year, at different times of the year when I commemorate my dad's life. Little rituals, like writing to him, burning a packet of cigarettes or cooking his favourite dishes, offer not only comfort to the living, but also comfort to those who have already gone, I believe. "Silly" little rituals and actions remind us, and our loved ones, that they are and always will be a part of our lives...
As I sat and drank my tea, I was warmed inside by imaginations of what my friend's mother looked like, what she sounded and smelled like. My thoughts drifted to Carmen, who passed away this time last year, and I felt terribly guilty that being so consumed with my own life, I forgot to commemorate her passing or even write to her daughter, which I had been meaning to do.... My mind drifted also to the mother of another friend, whose mother has been in and out of hospital for a number of years, battling a seemingly formidable cancer... And my mind drifted to my own mother, to how I would commemorate her when she is gone...
Sometimes when you slow down to think of your own life, and the lives of others, many things in this world do not seem to matter much any more.
It may seem so strange, but a friend of mine contacted me recently and said that that very day would be her mother's first birthday after her death late last year. She said she would not be sad and would not be crying. Instead, my friend said she would make her usual cup of morning coffee and toast to her mother, to the "grande dame" who she was. She asked if I could do the same, even though it may seem so "silly"...
I was honoured that she would even ask me to commemorate her, and of course I did exactly that without any second thoughts. I wrote back to her, and sent her a picture of my steaming cup of tea. "Of course it is not 'silly'" I wrote to her. I also do the same every year, at different times of the year when I commemorate my dad's life. Little rituals, like writing to him, burning a packet of cigarettes or cooking his favourite dishes, offer not only comfort to the living, but also comfort to those who have already gone, I believe. "Silly" little rituals and actions remind us, and our loved ones, that they are and always will be a part of our lives...
As I sat and drank my tea, I was warmed inside by imaginations of what my friend's mother looked like, what she sounded and smelled like. My thoughts drifted to Carmen, who passed away this time last year, and I felt terribly guilty that being so consumed with my own life, I forgot to commemorate her passing or even write to her daughter, which I had been meaning to do.... My mind drifted also to the mother of another friend, whose mother has been in and out of hospital for a number of years, battling a seemingly formidable cancer... And my mind drifted to my own mother, to how I would commemorate her when she is gone...
Sometimes when you slow down to think of your own life, and the lives of others, many things in this world do not seem to matter much any more.
letter from a friend
Two days ago, I received an email from a friend, someone I've known for a couple of years, and with whom I communicate from time to time. Though we're in different countries, each doing our own thing, one aspect of our life is so invariably tied together, and that is our love and worry for our mothers.
In the latest email, she said her mother is suffering intolerable pain, and has lost all appetite. It hurts even for her to walk, my friend said, and being away from her mother, my friend is so often filled with guilt.
It pains me to read about her mother, what she is going through, and just to imagine the worry and stress that my friend experiences on a day to day, or perhaps moment to moment, basis. I write back, comforting her, assuring her, try to give my friend the comfort and care she needs, and deserves. but I wish there were much more I could do to take her pain, and the pains of her mother, away...
Maybe this is what brings us two together. This deep deep understanding, this ability not to feel like you are burdening someone (or at times talking to a brick wall) when you pour out your feelings about how much seeing our mothers in pain and slowly slip away is maybe what connects us. Maybe more than anyone, we can (almost) fully understand, we can fully empathise what the other person is going through. Other people may be able to offer words of sympathy, a hug or a pat on the shoulder, but unless you have seen and experienced your loved slowly have their mental and physical strength and will to live eaten away by a terrible terrible disease, you can never really know, can never really understand- however well intentioned the person is...
My feelings and my heart go out to you, my friend....
In the latest email, she said her mother is suffering intolerable pain, and has lost all appetite. It hurts even for her to walk, my friend said, and being away from her mother, my friend is so often filled with guilt.
It pains me to read about her mother, what she is going through, and just to imagine the worry and stress that my friend experiences on a day to day, or perhaps moment to moment, basis. I write back, comforting her, assuring her, try to give my friend the comfort and care she needs, and deserves. but I wish there were much more I could do to take her pain, and the pains of her mother, away...
Maybe this is what brings us two together. This deep deep understanding, this ability not to feel like you are burdening someone (or at times talking to a brick wall) when you pour out your feelings about how much seeing our mothers in pain and slowly slip away is maybe what connects us. Maybe more than anyone, we can (almost) fully understand, we can fully empathise what the other person is going through. Other people may be able to offer words of sympathy, a hug or a pat on the shoulder, but unless you have seen and experienced your loved slowly have their mental and physical strength and will to live eaten away by a terrible terrible disease, you can never really know, can never really understand- however well intentioned the person is...
My feelings and my heart go out to you, my friend....
11 April 2011
Visit
Finally after 10 days, my ex-flatmate came by and cleared up her room. She still has four boxes and a suitcase left in there, and she's promised to come back again to clear things away, but at least I can go in there and walk around without having to mind what I'm stepping on!
The room is not quiet free to use yet, and I've not yet let the cat back to her rightful place of abode. The very first thing I did when I got home was to spray the entire room with anti-bug spray- and lots of it! With all sorts of complaints my friend had about bedbugs, and more recently scabies, I can't be too carefully... I'll let the room air for a few days and soon it should be back to being my - and the cat's- space again, for the first time in over 7 months!
And it's about time too. Again, for maybe the fifth time in the past month or so, mum said she's gearing herself to come visit me, something she's been saying for two years already but never had the opportunity to. She says she's been exercising and living healthily to maintain her strength and health so she may come visit soon.
I dare not ask when that soon is, and when she talks about visiting, I am of course overjoyed to have her, for it has been like a dream and goals to have her see how well I've settled down here.
But...but deep down inside there is this horrible fear, horrible negativity and pessimism that something may change between her announcing her intention to come visit, and her actually getting here. So many uncertainties, so many factors depending on her health remaining more or less stable... Somehow, at timed when I am relishing in my relative happiness and freedom here, a dark thought crosses my mind to remind me how fragile all this could be, and how everything could so easily change with the sudden ringing of my phone at anytime, anywhere.
It's dreadful to live in a state of fear and u known...
The room is not quiet free to use yet, and I've not yet let the cat back to her rightful place of abode. The very first thing I did when I got home was to spray the entire room with anti-bug spray- and lots of it! With all sorts of complaints my friend had about bedbugs, and more recently scabies, I can't be too carefully... I'll let the room air for a few days and soon it should be back to being my - and the cat's- space again, for the first time in over 7 months!
And it's about time too. Again, for maybe the fifth time in the past month or so, mum said she's gearing herself to come visit me, something she's been saying for two years already but never had the opportunity to. She says she's been exercising and living healthily to maintain her strength and health so she may come visit soon.
I dare not ask when that soon is, and when she talks about visiting, I am of course overjoyed to have her, for it has been like a dream and goals to have her see how well I've settled down here.
But...but deep down inside there is this horrible fear, horrible negativity and pessimism that something may change between her announcing her intention to come visit, and her actually getting here. So many uncertainties, so many factors depending on her health remaining more or less stable... Somehow, at timed when I am relishing in my relative happiness and freedom here, a dark thought crosses my mind to remind me how fragile all this could be, and how everything could so easily change with the sudden ringing of my phone at anytime, anywhere.
It's dreadful to live in a state of fear and u known...
08 April 2011
Guilt
Why do I feel 'guilty' to be happy? Guilty to be laughing out loud, to be joking with friends and colleagues, when just a few moments before I was so close to tears from listening to mum and her worries. Is it hypocritical to be laughing out loud, when a few moments earlier you were so weighed down and troubled?
Or maybe it's just a game of charades I'm playing. A masquerade of changing faces and masks to hide my feelings to other people, and to myself...
Or maybe it's just a game of charades I'm playing. A masquerade of changing faces and masks to hide my feelings to other people, and to myself...
Results....
Just this morning, a friend asked how my mum is doing. "As long as she's hanging in there, that's good. You never know what may happen."
On the phone a few moments later, mum sounded a bit quiet as she talked about her day at the doctor's. This is a doctor who she has known for a number of years, and who advocates 'alternative' treatment over western medicine. Mum showed him her latest medical report, and yes there is indeed a tumour in a section of the spine, and very likely another one in the lower back. The 'alternative' doctor said surgical removal will be very hard for mum to handle, especially at her age, but recommends she take some medicine and under go electrotherapy.
Mum has not decided yet what to do, and she has a number she can call when she starts to lose the mobility of her left arm, because that's when things get very serious and surgery is critical to prevent whole body paralysis.
Whether it'll get to that point, if ever, nobody knows. But it's a possibly, a dark fear and worry that will always linger in the back of her mind, and mine...
On the phone a few moments later, mum sounded a bit quiet as she talked about her day at the doctor's. This is a doctor who she has known for a number of years, and who advocates 'alternative' treatment over western medicine. Mum showed him her latest medical report, and yes there is indeed a tumour in a section of the spine, and very likely another one in the lower back. The 'alternative' doctor said surgical removal will be very hard for mum to handle, especially at her age, but recommends she take some medicine and under go electrotherapy.
Mum has not decided yet what to do, and she has a number she can call when she starts to lose the mobility of her left arm, because that's when things get very serious and surgery is critical to prevent whole body paralysis.
Whether it'll get to that point, if ever, nobody knows. But it's a possibly, a dark fear and worry that will always linger in the back of her mind, and mine...
04 April 2011
Bedbugs!
I can't believe within one day of moving, my former flatmate already has serious issues with her new place.
Just out of courtesy I asked her yesterday how her new apartment is, and then came two messages telling me that there is a bedbug infestation. Not just that, she implied that the problem came from my apartment, and that the bedbugs followed her there. I really wonder how anyone be so insensitive and not realise what kind of very personal accusation it is to imply I'm partly the reason for her latest bites and itchiness.
Once more, i know for sure I made the right decsion in asking her to move, and whatever happens now is no longer my concern. I think i have do en more than enough in the last couple of months to accommodate her demanding nature and her ability to take so many things for granted. Maybe now that she's on her own, she'll realise what she had and how I helped her when she was in need, at times even to the detriment of my own living space and comfort.
I have already had enough, and all I can and ever want to do now is wish her luck. Nothing more, nothing less, for I owe her nothing.
Just out of courtesy I asked her yesterday how her new apartment is, and then came two messages telling me that there is a bedbug infestation. Not just that, she implied that the problem came from my apartment, and that the bedbugs followed her there. I really wonder how anyone be so insensitive and not realise what kind of very personal accusation it is to imply I'm partly the reason for her latest bites and itchiness.
Once more, i know for sure I made the right decsion in asking her to move, and whatever happens now is no longer my concern. I think i have do en more than enough in the last couple of months to accommodate her demanding nature and her ability to take so many things for granted. Maybe now that she's on her own, she'll realise what she had and how I helped her when she was in need, at times even to the detriment of my own living space and comfort.
I have already had enough, and all I can and ever want to do now is wish her luck. Nothing more, nothing less, for I owe her nothing.
At home
The living room, washroom and kitchen looks clean and organised. I even took off the window nets to give them a good scrub and remove all the dust and cobwebs that have collected over the winter. Except for my room and the room where my flatmate used to live in, my house looks descent and comfortable to live in. I'll get to those rooms once she actually moves all her stuff out for good.
My friends came over two days in a row in the evenings, and we ate, drank and laughed the nights away in one another's merry company. For many moments I felt so blessed to be surrounded by such good friends, to be living in a community of friends who get along, and who can just pop over to one another's houses at any moment's notice. I felt so free, so uninhibited, now that the flatmate has moved away, and I think everyone else finds the the joy and liberation in the absence of the invisible yet somewhat indescribable discomfort of my ex-flatmate's presence.
This is what I came back to Canada... For this sense of belonging, sense of comfort and warmth in my own home, where I feel at ease and at home. It is in such an environment that I can focus on my own life and studies, and reassure my mum that there is little she has to worry about, for I have great friends, a sweet cat and a loving and caring boyfriend, from all of whom I receive the invaluable gift of laughter to brighten up my days.
My friends came over two days in a row in the evenings, and we ate, drank and laughed the nights away in one another's merry company. For many moments I felt so blessed to be surrounded by such good friends, to be living in a community of friends who get along, and who can just pop over to one another's houses at any moment's notice. I felt so free, so uninhibited, now that the flatmate has moved away, and I think everyone else finds the the joy and liberation in the absence of the invisible yet somewhat indescribable discomfort of my ex-flatmate's presence.
This is what I came back to Canada... For this sense of belonging, sense of comfort and warmth in my own home, where I feel at ease and at home. It is in such an environment that I can focus on my own life and studies, and reassure my mum that there is little she has to worry about, for I have great friends, a sweet cat and a loving and caring boyfriend, from all of whom I receive the invaluable gift of laughter to brighten up my days.
02 April 2011
Big move
Finally, after seven months, the flatmate moved out of the apartment. Maybe I should have asked her to move earlier, just be hard on her and not care if she has a place to stay or the money to pay for a place to stay. But I guess, like someone said, I'm too soft, too nice. Plus I was away for a while, so I just let my friend stay around. Two weeks turned into two months, turned into seven months...
A month or so ago I gave her notice and now I can hardly believe she finally moved out. It's not a completely clean move, as in there are still many things she left behind, and and pick things up over the next few days.
I had originally planned to start cleaning her room, as since she moved in, it's been cluttered with her belongings that there is barely any space to walk on. Even now, with half of her belongings gone, the place looks like a refugee camp that's been plundered not once but three times over. She'll be back to pick up the rest of her things, she said, but I wonder how long still till my cat and I get full 'visitation' and usage rights of the room that for the last seven months was effectively severed from the rest of the house ( she had habit of keeping the door closed to prevent the cat from getting in... And perhaps to prevent the mess from being seen or getting out...)
I came home tonight after a night out with two friends. I entered my apartment, and for the first time in such a long long time , I felt so free to do as I wished and to walk around the place without having to think that there is someone there. For the first time in such a long time, I don't have to smile and make conversation or appear interested in small talk Nd exchange pleasantries. Maybe it's me, the way I'm, but after this experience of living with someone, I would think long and hard before living with another person.
I enjoy living alone, and the peace and quiet and freedom. That fonts with it.
A month or so ago I gave her notice and now I can hardly believe she finally moved out. It's not a completely clean move, as in there are still many things she left behind, and and pick things up over the next few days.
I had originally planned to start cleaning her room, as since she moved in, it's been cluttered with her belongings that there is barely any space to walk on. Even now, with half of her belongings gone, the place looks like a refugee camp that's been plundered not once but three times over. She'll be back to pick up the rest of her things, she said, but I wonder how long still till my cat and I get full 'visitation' and usage rights of the room that for the last seven months was effectively severed from the rest of the house ( she had habit of keeping the door closed to prevent the cat from getting in... And perhaps to prevent the mess from being seen or getting out...)
I came home tonight after a night out with two friends. I entered my apartment, and for the first time in such a long long time , I felt so free to do as I wished and to walk around the place without having to think that there is someone there. For the first time in such a long time, I don't have to smile and make conversation or appear interested in small talk Nd exchange pleasantries. Maybe it's me, the way I'm, but after this experience of living with someone, I would think long and hard before living with another person.
I enjoy living alone, and the peace and quiet and freedom. That fonts with it.
31 March 2011
Brother's birthday
I called my brother today, the second time since we last saw one another around a month and a half ago. I wished him a happy birthday, and spoke to him for a while, asking him how he and my sister-in-law (and baby) are doing these days. Just a little catching up, and a sign that our relationship has improved much in recent times.
He sounded a bit down, as he is worried about the process of his wife immigrating to the Netherlands. For the last decade or so, it has become notoriously difficult to immigrate to the Netherlands. The situation is so dire that human rights organisations as well as the European Court of Justice have on several occasions chastised the country for having an inhumane and excessively strict immigration policy-- a policy that has seen the imprisonment of children, the deportation of young girls to countries like Afghanistan, and forced separation of families and partners. According to the authorities, it is not enough that you are married to someone who is a legal resident or citizen of the Netherlands. You must demonstrate the ability to communicate in basic Dutch before you can even begin the process of applying for immigration. And being able to converse in Dutch does not automatically mean you are eligible. All sorts of papers have to be filled in, and a long waiting process is due before you can actually set foot in the country.
What does this all mean for my brother and his wife? The very likelihood of very long delays, bureaucratic hurdles as well as headaches for my brother and his wife, even if they fulfill all the necessary and legal requirements to immigrate.
I listened to brother's troubles, and tried to be helpful by saying that I'll try to do what I can to help if need be. I think he was touched by that, and we ended the conversation on a lighter note.
As I put down the phone, there was a warm fuzzy feeling inside. We are connecting on a whole new level, and that is heartwarming.
He sounded a bit down, as he is worried about the process of his wife immigrating to the Netherlands. For the last decade or so, it has become notoriously difficult to immigrate to the Netherlands. The situation is so dire that human rights organisations as well as the European Court of Justice have on several occasions chastised the country for having an inhumane and excessively strict immigration policy-- a policy that has seen the imprisonment of children, the deportation of young girls to countries like Afghanistan, and forced separation of families and partners. According to the authorities, it is not enough that you are married to someone who is a legal resident or citizen of the Netherlands. You must demonstrate the ability to communicate in basic Dutch before you can even begin the process of applying for immigration. And being able to converse in Dutch does not automatically mean you are eligible. All sorts of papers have to be filled in, and a long waiting process is due before you can actually set foot in the country.
What does this all mean for my brother and his wife? The very likelihood of very long delays, bureaucratic hurdles as well as headaches for my brother and his wife, even if they fulfill all the necessary and legal requirements to immigrate.
I listened to brother's troubles, and tried to be helpful by saying that I'll try to do what I can to help if need be. I think he was touched by that, and we ended the conversation on a lighter note.
As I put down the phone, there was a warm fuzzy feeling inside. We are connecting on a whole new level, and that is heartwarming.
28 March 2011
Feast for my family
It wasn't exactly today, but I woke up early to shop and start preparations for a big feast for my ancestors.
Traditionally, Qing Ming Festival 清明節 or Tomb Sweeping Day falls some day in April or May, and it's a day for Taiwanese to pay respects to the deceased family and relatives. Food and offerings play a central part in the commemorations, and families usually cook elaborate meals and put it in front of the family altar for the spirits of loved ones who have left before us.
Mum wanted to commemorate this day by visiting the temple where dad is laid to rest, and like everytime when she visits, she tires herself out by waking up especially early to cook, not to mention the trips to the market the day(s) before to buy fresh produce and flowers and paper money to burn. So this time I made a 'pact' with her: I will host my own feast and celebration here in Canada so she doesnt have to make it so elaborate and exhaust herself there.
I cooked nine dishes, including soup, a dessert, and variety of vegetables and bought half a roasted duck to offer, together with packets of biscuits and bottles of fizzy drinks. Luckily my friend was with me to help out and lay the tables, so it was all done with relative ease and speed ( but still it till over 3 hours from start to finish...)
I had my neighbours over to eat the 'leftovers'. While people may have mocked or thought it strange that I would go through all that trouble to cook for 'invisible' guests, I didn't find it at all odd. I may have lived abroad almost all my life, but there is a deep part of me that is still rooted to my roots. Roots that are tied to my ancestors, my forefathers and foremothers, tied to my late dad, without whom I would not be here and live with such ease and in such comfort today. People may not understand why I choose to engage and trouble myself with rituals and superstition, but what's wrong with giving my ancestors and dad an opportunity to visit Canada? :)
I put my hands before my chest and spoke to them quietly in my heart... Thanked them for their hardships and sacrifices, remembered them for who they were and what they meant to me growing up. What little food and drink I could offer then is but a small token of my eternal gratitude and appreciation.
Traditionally, Qing Ming Festival 清明節 or Tomb Sweeping Day falls some day in April or May, and it's a day for Taiwanese to pay respects to the deceased family and relatives. Food and offerings play a central part in the commemorations, and families usually cook elaborate meals and put it in front of the family altar for the spirits of loved ones who have left before us.
Mum wanted to commemorate this day by visiting the temple where dad is laid to rest, and like everytime when she visits, she tires herself out by waking up especially early to cook, not to mention the trips to the market the day(s) before to buy fresh produce and flowers and paper money to burn. So this time I made a 'pact' with her: I will host my own feast and celebration here in Canada so she doesnt have to make it so elaborate and exhaust herself there.
I cooked nine dishes, including soup, a dessert, and variety of vegetables and bought half a roasted duck to offer, together with packets of biscuits and bottles of fizzy drinks. Luckily my friend was with me to help out and lay the tables, so it was all done with relative ease and speed ( but still it till over 3 hours from start to finish...)
I had my neighbours over to eat the 'leftovers'. While people may have mocked or thought it strange that I would go through all that trouble to cook for 'invisible' guests, I didn't find it at all odd. I may have lived abroad almost all my life, but there is a deep part of me that is still rooted to my roots. Roots that are tied to my ancestors, my forefathers and foremothers, tied to my late dad, without whom I would not be here and live with such ease and in such comfort today. People may not understand why I choose to engage and trouble myself with rituals and superstition, but what's wrong with giving my ancestors and dad an opportunity to visit Canada? :)
I put my hands before my chest and spoke to them quietly in my heart... Thanked them for their hardships and sacrifices, remembered them for who they were and what they meant to me growing up. What little food and drink I could offer then is but a small token of my eternal gratitude and appreciation.
Charity?
I've been told I was too naive, too nice, and even too stupid (well, maybe not with that exact word, but something to that effect) to offer a friend my spare room to stay in. She'd never leave, they said... She's exploiting you, they said.
Perhaps... Perhaps... But after seven months, it looks like she's finally found an alternative solution to her housing problem, as my roommate found a room to share in an apartment elsewhere.
It hasn't been completely easy living with her. especially after being away for so long, what I most wanted was a place of my own, without having to think about whether there's someone in the next room I might be disturbing. But that will all come to an end soon enough, and my cat will also be glad to know the room she has been physically barred from entering will soon be free territory for her to roam in.
Was it out of a sense of charity that I took my friend in, and let her stay for so long without ever asking for a cent in rent? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm too idealistic, too nice as they say, but in my mind from the very beginning was the idea that if I could do something to help, why not? If I had the spare space to offer, even if to offer to someone j knew would be difficult to live with, why not? Even if it might be to my own detriment and growing inconvenience, if I could help A friend in need, why not? I wouldn't call it charity, as such. Just trying to help someone in need to the best of my abilities, which is more than what a lot of people would do, and I can be grateful that I have the patience and space in my heart to be able to do so.
The motivation has changed little from the day I offers her the spare room to live in, despite seeing my own things gradually shoved aside to make room for hers, despite having to come home at night only to find the kitchen sink cluttered wish unwashed dishes.
Seven months on, the sharing of my living space with another is soon over. I really look forward to having my little comfort zone where u can retire to at the end of the day... And I deserve it.
Perhaps... Perhaps... But after seven months, it looks like she's finally found an alternative solution to her housing problem, as my roommate found a room to share in an apartment elsewhere.
It hasn't been completely easy living with her. especially after being away for so long, what I most wanted was a place of my own, without having to think about whether there's someone in the next room I might be disturbing. But that will all come to an end soon enough, and my cat will also be glad to know the room she has been physically barred from entering will soon be free territory for her to roam in.
Was it out of a sense of charity that I took my friend in, and let her stay for so long without ever asking for a cent in rent? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm too idealistic, too nice as they say, but in my mind from the very beginning was the idea that if I could do something to help, why not? If I had the spare space to offer, even if to offer to someone j knew would be difficult to live with, why not? Even if it might be to my own detriment and growing inconvenience, if I could help A friend in need, why not? I wouldn't call it charity, as such. Just trying to help someone in need to the best of my abilities, which is more than what a lot of people would do, and I can be grateful that I have the patience and space in my heart to be able to do so.
The motivation has changed little from the day I offers her the spare room to live in, despite seeing my own things gradually shoved aside to make room for hers, despite having to come home at night only to find the kitchen sink cluttered wish unwashed dishes.
Seven months on, the sharing of my living space with another is soon over. I really look forward to having my little comfort zone where u can retire to at the end of the day... And I deserve it.
26 March 2011
nightmare,,,
I woke up, so terribly shaken, groaning and my body curled up in a ball, writhing.
The images And sounds were so terribly disturbing,all too real, all too possible...
Mum, brother and I were on a trip somewhere, driving next to a river with little settlements on either side of the bank. We stopped at a place to rest, a place which happened to belong to someone we knew.
Mum retreated to bed early, but from the door open ajar, I cod see her in terrible, terrible pain and agony. "why did you come out when you were in such discomfort?" I asked.
She did not reply, but just kept rocking back and forth, holding onto her aching arm. It was à terribly sorry sight to see...
In the next scene, mum begun crying, begun lashing out at people all around her, and she was sweating profusely, talking gibberish like she had lost her ability to speak. I watched in tears, rushed to camp her down , to reassure her that it'll all be alright, but even I panicked and was so terribly lost and shaken by her convulsions and throws of her fist.
"please, mum, nooooooooo!"
That's when I woke up and found myself groaning, but Those groans were not answered..:
The images And sounds were so terribly disturbing,all too real, all too possible...
Mum, brother and I were on a trip somewhere, driving next to a river with little settlements on either side of the bank. We stopped at a place to rest, a place which happened to belong to someone we knew.
Mum retreated to bed early, but from the door open ajar, I cod see her in terrible, terrible pain and agony. "why did you come out when you were in such discomfort?" I asked.
She did not reply, but just kept rocking back and forth, holding onto her aching arm. It was à terribly sorry sight to see...
In the next scene, mum begun crying, begun lashing out at people all around her, and she was sweating profusely, talking gibberish like she had lost her ability to speak. I watched in tears, rushed to camp her down , to reassure her that it'll all be alright, but even I panicked and was so terribly lost and shaken by her convulsions and throws of her fist.
"please, mum, nooooooooo!"
That's when I woke up and found myself groaning, but Those groans were not answered..:
23 March 2011
worrying too much?
I still get emotional when I talk about my stay with mum recently. I guess it has really had a tremendous impact on me, more than I realise, and more than anyone else can ever comprehend...
at lunch with two friends today, out of concern they asked me how mum was doing. To be honest, I'm always lost as what to answer. She's not well, but at the same time she's not in a great degree if pain and suffering either ( at least not to my knowledge...) "Stable" I said eventually, "At this stage as long as it does not worsen thats a good thing".
even having been back here for almost three weeks now, in the back of my mind I still wonder whether it was right to leave her, especially whenever mum has to go to the hospital all alone. I sleep terribly at night, my mind so disturbed and strained by thoughts and worries, and i wake up often more exhausted than before sleeping.
I call her twice a day , sometimes three times- to the effect that she jokes that I'm calling her as if after each and every meal of the day. "You really worry too much" she said the other day "Concentrate on your own things and get your work done"
It's easier said than done.... But somehow I'll have to manage.
at lunch with two friends today, out of concern they asked me how mum was doing. To be honest, I'm always lost as what to answer. She's not well, but at the same time she's not in a great degree if pain and suffering either ( at least not to my knowledge...) "Stable" I said eventually, "At this stage as long as it does not worsen thats a good thing".
even having been back here for almost three weeks now, in the back of my mind I still wonder whether it was right to leave her, especially whenever mum has to go to the hospital all alone. I sleep terribly at night, my mind so disturbed and strained by thoughts and worries, and i wake up often more exhausted than before sleeping.
I call her twice a day , sometimes three times- to the effect that she jokes that I'm calling her as if after each and every meal of the day. "You really worry too much" she said the other day "Concentrate on your own things and get your work done"
It's easier said than done.... But somehow I'll have to manage.
22 March 2011
misunderstanding?
I left after dinner. Perhaps I should have stayed, but my heart told me to go, for I felt so frustrated, mainly at myself. For the second time in as many weeks I felt like I shouldn't be around him because I seem to have this ability to make him feel unappreciated (worse still, depreciated...) by the things I say.
Did he want me to stay? I'm not sure, but he looked saddened and hurt by comments I had made, especially as he went out of his way to make me a nice
meal. And the evening was ruined by my commments and incessant questions. Was it a simple case of miscommunication, or does it come down to the fundamental problem I have receiving what others want to give me? I felt terrible to have mislead him, but felt there was little I could say to make the situation better.
Maybe time and space apart will make soothe whatever tensions or misunderstandings there may have been... I sure hope so...
Did he want me to stay? I'm not sure, but he looked saddened and hurt by comments I had made, especially as he went out of his way to make me a nice
meal. And the evening was ruined by my commments and incessant questions. Was it a simple case of miscommunication, or does it come down to the fundamental problem I have receiving what others want to give me? I felt terrible to have mislead him, but felt there was little I could say to make the situation better.
Maybe time and space apart will make soothe whatever tensions or misunderstandings there may have been... I sure hope so...
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