Return to Niagara falls

I cannot but think back, how two years ago I called mum at this very spot. I grit my teeth as I listened to her weak voice reminisce the past, how she and I talked about our first visit here together as a family back in 1994....

I asked if she could hear the Falls, hear the powerful sounds of nature, hear the unending echo of the flow of water... She could not feel it's power, its incessant sounds and the damp on my face.

I broke down and howled. Tears poured from my eyes like I've not done for months. I couldn't cry in front of her as her body weakened and thinned , as I watched her become skin and bones and as cancer robbed her of life and colours. The falls were so powerful, majestic, beautiful.... My mum was once so in my eyes, and has always been so beautiful, kind and patient. Yet, she was losing her life, losing her colours, and I knew that soon I would lose her...

I broke down after speaking to her.
Cried just as I am crying now. Uncontrolled outpouring of emotions, of tears that I could not cry before because I needed to be brave and strong in front of her, in front of everyone. But deep inside I was in pain, hurting and crying. Then, as I am now.

Two years on, her body has gone to ashes, her belongings stored in a space I do not dare to enter, in boxes I do not have the courage to unpack or touch. 

I watch the Falls and realise again how much I miss her... The force of nature is so raw, so strong, so powerful. It gives and it takes, and what are we but little human beings at the mercy of its whim?

Two years, twenty years later, so much has changed...

Anniversary

I woke up early to the beeping of my phone.

It was my brother, who had sent me two pictures of his dining table, at the head of which sat my nephew. Spread over the table were plates of food. Chicken, fish, vegetables, fruits,  and at the centre of it all, a picture of my parents, one taken at a restaurant in Taipei around 15 or so years ago.  I remember that dinner well, we were all there as a family. Brother was grumpy because I made him walk in the summer heat to get to the restaurant. It was a fancy place, close to the bank where dad worked at the time, and part of our annual family dinner...

Now, its just my brother and his family, and me left now.

How do I feel? Pensive, reflective, sad and slow today... Again, as much as I can 've surrounded by friends, there's that deep emptiness inside that cannot be filled... Not by booze, not by sightd of superficial people dressed in tight and colourful clothes,  not with upbeat music.

Most likely I will take some time on my own, get away and walk off the heaviness, and think of the mum (and dad) who gave me so much and made me who I am today...

I wish my parents could be proud of me and who I am...

You can be surrounded by thousands of people, surrounded by booze and party music and mood....

And yet so empty, so very empty inside.

Two years...

I feel it creeping in.

I picked up a friend, the last of three people who have flown across the world to be here this week for Pride.
It has been wonderful seeing every one, bonding again and having a good laugh and good times.

But deep down I feel the sadness boiling.
Which may explain why in the afternoon, I just slept... Slept as if I were in a dream, a trance and could not be waken up.

Deep down, I miss my late mum.

I really , really do...

Where did the days go?

Where did the days go? 

Been a month since I returned from my trip to China and North Korea. I don't know why or how the time has just flown by. Work has been extremely busy, but that doesn't explain how the days have just gone by without me noticing them. 

Been back a month, and only yesterday did I manage to unpack my suitcases... Unpack as in get the suitcases off of the floor and stuff them into the closet so they cannot be seen! And I cleaned my room, got all those papers and things lying around only because my cousin  is coming tonight.

Where did the days go? I had plans to write about my experiences during my travels, but I'm just so tired, so tired and am feeling so agitated and unable to put words to paper (or a screen). These past few weeks have been rough, not just trying to recover from a long trip filled with new experiences and excitement, but also dealing with upheavals in personal relationships (utter disregard for my personal space and privacy...) And at the same time coping with the grueling days of June, the month I saw mum fade so quickly away from our lives two years earlier...

I know it's strange and irrational, because it is all in the past. But a friend who lost her dad five years ago still hurts. Another who lost her dad twenty, thirty years ago still is close to bursting out in tears every time those raw nerves are touched. Loss and grief are so pervasive, so permanent, so powerful! I wish I could get rid of it, feel whole and not so lonely again, but I cannot. I cannot dispel the discomfort, that sense of heaviness and sorrow that robs me of minutes, hours and days without me realising it.

where did the days go? 

“I pictured myself going out in a blaze of glory, but this kind of death, this slow, invisible disappearing into nothing, it’s terrifying.”
OITNB

Something...

19 June. Ten days till the end of June, ten days till the end of mum's life two years ago (according to the western calendar).

This month has been slow and a slump. So many dreams... so many visions of mum (and dad)... Tears, emotional depletion and this terrible terrible exhaustion. Grief seems to be raring its head again, and loneliness, that damned, god-forsaken sense of emptiness and withdrawal is consuming my heart, my joys, my very soul.

There are moments I sit in the office, or stand leaning against the wall of the metro, and close my eyes. In these moments, I can hear everything going on around me, but I feel as if I am drifting, drifting and am lost like a ghost in a world full of noise, full of life.

And I feel so small... so insignificant and so weak again.
I was getting stronger, and have been healing myself with travels and explorations of the world out there (despite what people may point and say...). But moments like this make me feel like I am taking steps back, like I am stumbling and falling all over again.

May, the month of mum's birthday and Mother's Day...
June, the month that two years ago was filled with dashed hopes, flying across the world and trying to make a dying person's last moments comfortable and filled with love. 

When I open my eyes, I see the world move all around me. I feel the world spin and feel like everything has just been a dream. A dream. A dream one has during a brief nap.


But I am not alone. I realise this more and more as events have been unfolding in the lives of people and friends around me. There is no monopoly on loss, pain and grief. I see it on the face on the hapless lady sitting alone on  the park... I see it in empty eyes of a homeless man searching for a hint of mercy and compassion. Losses and emotional traumas are abound, and we are all here in our shared experience of grief and pain, in our yearning for happiness and comfort.

Sob

It began out of nowhere, slowly at first then this violent sobbing...

I yearned for mum, long for her touch and embrace...

I am hurting so badly.
I need human contact. 

Arriving in PEK

It's massive. The gigantic triangular terminal building looks like something from the future. White steel girders align the roof while see through glass panes decorate the sides. It's awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and very empty. I tread carefully on the ground, and took my first steps in the People's Republic. 

Passengers alighting from the flight from Narita seemed to be the only passengers in the terminal building, and it was only a little after eight in the evening. I rode the people mover from the international section to the domestic side to the baggage claim area. It took over ten minutes to traverse one of the largest (hu)man-made structures in the world.

Immigration was efficient, and the lady smiled at me as she flipped through my passport, which bears various entry and exit stamps from Taiwan. I was somewhat apprehensive, for there was always the fear of being denied entry at the border, particularly as I have always been a very outspoken critic of the Chinese government. A month earlier, when I applied for entry to the People's Republic, I wrote "Taipei" as my place of birth. That was where I was born. But that was not enough. The lady at the visa office sternly told me to put "Taipei, China". To the Chinese government that makes all the difference. To some, a word makes all the difference. In the section asking if I held another passport, the lady insisted that I declare myself as being Chinese. "Taiwan is a part of China, you must say you hold a passport of China." 

In an Orwellian world where manipulation is information, where an untruth repeated a hundred times becomes holier than the truth itself, where Big Brother is your friend in need and can be your worst nightmare, an individual cannot object or argue. There is no individual to speak of, no individual thought or dissent that can be tolerated. 

The question is do you disobey your conscience and conform without protest? Is conforming forsaking your beliefs and a betrayal of your very identity? Is not protesting a sign of agreement? These are questions that I wrestled with even before I stepped foot in the countries I planned to visit.  

The greatest irony of all is that my Chinese visa was issued on the page opposite my previous visa for Taiwan. A picture of the Great Wall of China face to face with a Formosan Blue Pheasant.  

At the time, I said nothing, but felt this rage inside. This was a test of my personal pride, challenging the fundamentals of me as a human being. Even before beginning my journey to the People's Republic I wrestled with my conscience and beliefs. Technically, my country of birth is at war with China, and I staunchly refuse to buy products that are Made in China (partly because of politics, but partly they are simply substandard and often made under terrible labour conditions). Are my beliefs being compromised simply by entering a country whose politics and policies leave a sour taste in my mouth? 

If this were the case,  then my travels to Burma/Myanmar, Israel, the United States or even Singapore, may have made me a hypocrite. If this were the case, then certainly visiting China (and then north Korea) would undermine the core values of individual freedom, democracy and freedom from fear that I subscribe to. I am not trying to justify my wanderlust or brush over the choice of countries I travel to, but as I grow older I do feel one should differentiate between endorsement of a particular regime and the destination you wish to visit. You are after all, visiting the country, the people (if you can even speak to or approach them...), even though at times traveling somewhere as a tourist means you are effectively bankrolling a regime. 

"China warmly welcomes you !" a massive sign said in English, and the message was repeated in a variety of languages. As I waited for the airport people mover, an automatic train that spans the length of the massive terminal building, I heard soft classical music emitted from hidden speakers. Classical music? Is that not, according to Mao and the Chinese Communist Party at one point in time , western and  bourgeois culture that needs to be uprooted and eradicated? Little did I realise that this would be the first of many contradictions and surprises on my maiden voyage tot he People's Republic of China. 

The half an hour taxi ride to downtown Beijing went without much conversation, except for the initial outbursts from the driver in heavily accented Mandarin I was not used to. I told the driver where I would like to go, and said a friend recommended that it would most convenient to a taxi. "Your friend is so bad! Very bad!" The driver kept on shouting. "(S)he  gave you bad information! Why is (s) he so bad?!" He was outraged that I could have taken the airport express and was somehow duped into taking a taxi. The driver then went on a rant about how bad the traffic would be, how it might take over an hour just stuck on the road. I sat in the back and listened to the strange outburst and tried in vain to find the seat belt fastener.

Luckily, the roads were relatively smooth, unlike the dreaded jams that I have heard so much about. with the growing middle class, large cities Iike Beijing has had to contend with growing car ownership and ever worsening traffic and smog. One measure was to institute an alternative day driving scheme, whereby cars with certain number plates are only allowed on the roads on certain days (Sunday's all the cars can go on the road...). Suddenly,  the driver cranked down his window and without asking just lit up a cigarette. It had been a while since i last visited a place where people smoke anywhere and everywhere, and where it is still common (for men) for the newly acquainted to offer one another a cigarette. Little was I prepared for the coming three weeks, in which every day at the end of the day I and my clothes would reek as if I had been smoking all day. 

I admired the broad streets and avenues lit with neon lights and colourful advertising billboards. The closer we got to Beijing, the more highrises there were. Modern, futuristic skyscrapers all vying to reach the heavens. And if they were not enough, there were bushes of construction cranes and scaffolding ready to unveil even more glitzy highrise buildings. Cities like Beijing (and Shanghai) has in the past decade constructed many more skyscrapers than its counterparts in North America and Europe. 

Feast for mum

I woke up early and cooked up a feast for mum.
Two years it has been. Two years...

My heart was heavy, and I miss her terribly. But in cooking, in laying out all those fruits (raspberries, blueberries, currants, pineapples...) and drinks she so loved (Evian, Perrier, soya milk...), I felt I honoured her life, her love.

I sat on the ground before the offerings and closed my eyes.
A lot of noise and nonsense and inner chatter from past and recent events I tried to shut away. They are so irrelevant, so trivial, so meaningless to what really matters in life...

I asked mum for her blessings, asked her to kindly look over my little nephew and my brother's family...
At one point the cat approached me and sat down with me a while. She looked around as if "something" was there...



I know not what she thinks of me now...
But from facebook, from a picture of her I posted clunching the bear that she once gave me, I know many of mum's dear friends miss her much too.

I tried to get a hold of my brother when the ceremony was coming to an end, as I wanted my nephew to be "here".
I only managed to get a hold of them an hour later, but still it was beautiful to see them over skype.

My nephew cute as ever, my sister in law chasing after him as he hopped around the house...

My brother and I spoke for over an hour and a half... about their upcoming trip, about his big plans for his family and about his plans for the future.

I hope mum saw us and listened to us bond with a smile.

I can't think of a better gift for mum than to remember her, and to let her know that the family she created is continuing to thrive and coming closer together...

Anniversary eve

The teddy bear mum gave me and said  I should keep forever, for he would protect me after she is gone, is lost... I thought of him tod thesy because I was planning to organise a ceremony to honour my mum. This will be the first time that bear will not be attending the ceremony.

But what matters is that I attend, that I still remember, that I still cherish the moments mum and I had together, however difficult the remembering may be sometimes. 

I've been emotional for the past week or so, partly due to this, partly due to some upheavals in relationships with friends. At the end of the day,  what is more important? I choose to focus my energies on commemorating mum, and it is energy and time much better spent.

With the help of a friend, I managed to get a hold of a whole chicken, cut up and nicely presented. It is perhaps the most important dish, the most symbolic dish. Chicken is homynous with "family" in the native language I used to speak to mum in, a language I have not used much since she left. Chicken symbolises continuity of family, of family relationships even after the departure of a loved one. I will offer this chicken to mum, and remember when I take bites into it.

Two years now, according to the lunar calendar, since mum left this world. I remember all that , events of that very day so vidivdly .... How I wrote a note and left it in her pocket, my final note to mum, my final farewell note.... How I held her hand till the very last moment, till the very last breath...

Two years... Two years...

I hope mum is doing well. I miss her terribly, more on days, painfully on other days. I think of her fondly. She was my mother, the one who have me love and affection and taught me all about honesty, giving, kindness and compassion... The one who showed me kindness, love, warmth and affection I have never experienced in my life, and I doubt willl ever experience again in the same way.

This night I remember the moments, the final houes  I spent next to mum's bedside.

Tomorrow I will honour her presence, her love, and her life.

Mum, I miss you...

Eve

How do you break the mould of grief and and mourning? How do you resist the temptation of feelings that are so easy because they are seemingly all around you?

Do something different. 

Leave familiar places and people and go somewhere new.

Why is it that I've been traveling so much these past few years? Partly because of wanting to be with mum, but now that episode has come to a close, its because traveling makes me forget, or at the very least remember less the painful and difficult moments and traumas, and allows me to see more of the world that for so long had been darkened by the shadows of illness and death. 

It does not matter most other people do not understand it.

It matters only that I realise I need it to heal and make me whole again. because, as a friend recently told me, I have come a long long way on my own. How...? I don't know how... I stumbled and fell and cried more than ever before on my own.

From grief and loss to venturing into unchartered and potentially dangerous territories. These are not small feats, most people do not realise.

On the eve of the second anniversary of lice without mum , without a parent, I close my eyes and blink away the tears and fears. I blink away the pain, the emptiness, the sorrow and the void.

I will break away.

Who can do no wrong?

You who can do no wrong. 

Used my place for two weeks in a row , but did not have even a few moments to make sure the place is relatively clean, left nacho chips and chocolate stains on the bed. 

And turning to accuse me of being ungrateful? Just because you helped return a beloved item of clothing to me means that you can leave a mess behind and that I should be ok with it all? 

And I'm the one acccused of lacking in social etiquette (at a time when I was mourning, no less). Where is the compassion, understanding and being the supportive friend you claim to be?

In some ways I feel sorry for you, for you seem to believe everyone is fooled by your lies and attempts to cover up things and manipulate people and facts. One day, you may wake up and find yourself tangled in a web of lies. 

I have told you before how you should 've very careful what you do and be wary of what people say about you when you are not around. You really believe every time you visit it's all fun and games and people welcome you with such warmth? You would be sick at the things people say about you, how they laugh at you and the way you blunder and make a mockery out of relationships. The past few years have just been a joke to our friends, and some are just too ashamed too admit it perhaps because it gives them joy to watch what nonsense you will get into next. 

Say nothing...

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Departures

It felt so real, so heart-wrenching.

I saw myself on the way to the airport, and my mum was net to me.
I just broke down in tears from the anticipated farewell. It felt like I would never see her again after seeing her off.

Mum sat next to me and touched my arm. I cried even more.
I could not bear it...

where was she going?
Why did she have to leave?

I cried even more as though questions tore through my mind and seared my heart.

Then suddenly was the empty airport hall. I was all alone. All alone.
I fell to the ground sobbing like a wounded animal...

T- 6.

Departures

It felt so real, so heart-wrenching.

I saw myself on the way to the airport, and my mum was next to me. 

I just broke down in tears from the image, the sight of mum. 

Recognition

After over two months I heard back from the friend who lost his mum to cancer. He said he's been very affected, but family has been very supportive. He's back at work again, after taking extended leave, and work is distracting him. But still it hurts and is very difficult.

"i dunno how u got thru it alone when it happened to u" he wrote to me.

Those words penetrated my heart, and I almost broke out in tears. 

It was the recognition that really touched me. Recognition that I still hurt, still feel the hurt and recognniton that it's not all over just because it's been almost two years. 

My friends don't ask anymore. 

It's as if just because I'm smiling more, just because I'm laughing more and going out a bit more, I'm over it. 

But can you ever get over death of a loved one? Can you ever get over the death of your mother? As a book about grieving I read put it, you don't move on from death. You move forward with it. It weighs heavy and is with you throughout your life. At times it's lighter, but there are moments, anniversaries, holidays, memorable days, when it's as painful and fresh as the day it happened. 

I'm hurting still, and I've come a long, long way from those nights I cried alone in bed or would wake up from a nightmare and memories of hospital wards and mum plugged to tubes... but I'm sure my friend is hurting even more. 

Trust

Trust too much and you are treated like a foolish fool who can manipulated and lied to .

Close off and youre forcing yourself to withdraw again after slowly coming out of mourning and letting go of pain and loss.

But nothing can and will remain the same.

This ends here and now.

Pek-sfo

PEK-SFO

One more hour till arrival in San Francisco. It has not been such a bad eleven hoursx not as I dreaded in economy (plus) class. I guess I was too exhausted, for I slept most of the way, and watched a two silly movies and some documentary about fish tank makeovers (which was surprisingly captivating). 

Flying United after several days in China you actually begin to appreciate little words as "You're welcome" and "Thank you". That says a lot about China, and about United. I was really getting very frustrated at the poor attitude and way people treat you (and one another), and how it is considered the norm. Even at the special counter reserved for frequent fliers I did not get a smile or a thank you or anything along the lines of "have a good flight". It was as if being served by the person, I was asking her a huge favour. And she did her job poorly, for I had to remind her twice to place priority tags on my luggage, and she did not even place me in the priority boarding area.  I know first world problems, but it underlines how people really just don't care about one another, and as many locals have said to me, they care most about money and a rosy cheeked Chairman Mao (who's face is on the 100yuan note).  

The past three weeks or so has been such an experience, not least I stepped outside my comfort zone and for the first time ever broke the self-imposed embargo by visiting the People's Republic of China. What I saw and experienced surprised me, for (again, at least what I saw) China has greatly kept forward and is extremely developed, particularly just the infrastructure and swaths of highrises all over the place. But despite such economic development and wealth, there is an alarming dirth of moral integrity and social cohesion, for evrything is under tight control by the Communist Party which is merely communist in name and whose presence is still strongly felt in propaganda posters and the ubiquity of policemen all over the place (of course not comparable to the degree in North Korea). 

This sense of moral deprivation and an overriding sense of selfishness and egoism owes much to the fact there is simply so many (perhaps too many) people competing for food, for work, for getting rich and having a  comfortable  life. There is in fact so much fear in people's lives, and it seems the only way to protect yourself is to get rich (自肥 "self-fattening", as the local term goes) Fear of being conned, Fear of not getting on the metro first, fear for food safety, fear of being murdered or kidnapped and having your organs sold for money is part of daily life... It is a wonder how people live in such a crowded place and must continually struggle and vie to be heard and to be recognised. Ironically, it was Mao who himself urged people to struggle against one another to root put decadence and spies, and filed distrust and self-preservation. 

It is a real shame, for China does have much potential, especially given its gloroious past (much of which, particularly the language, virtues, and cultures, have been preserved, due to a twist in history, in neighbouring and my native Taiwan). The ancient remains of the imperial dynasties in old Beijing are impressive and stunning, the beauty and ingenuity of Sichuan's Dujianyan waterworks is testament to the ingenuity and greatness of ancient China. But as China progresses, and as the Communist Party aims to ironically embrace the ancient values and virtues it four decades ago shunned and deliberately destroyed. The contradictions between how capitalism and consumerism  has manifested itself and the inward-looking attitude and socialist ideals that were once so trumped up by the Party, not least by Mao and his followers, is extreme, and at times humorous. 

This trip also brought me to the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, which was an enlightening experience and a throwback to the height of the Cold War and language of anti-imperialism and socialist idealism. The country itself is beautiful, largely rural and agrarian, relatively untouched by development , forgotten, and to be honest very backward. Under the iron grip of the Kim Dynasty, there is a fear and discipline and conformity is kept alive with intimidation, fear and the constant bombardment of propaganda and the ever-present presence of the military which infiltrates all parts of life.  There is very limited freedom, even compared to China, and it is as if the world has passed it by while the leadership and its people live in the socialist pipedream that they are building an utopia that is amazing, unheard of and unparelleled in the world. 

I had a wonderful time with the small group of adventure cyclists who joined the tour with me, most of whom were Dutchies and my age group, which made interaction and being able to relate much easier. The train ride out of DPRK to China was another highlight, as was the flight into North Korea with Air Koryo. But how relieved I was to leave the hermit kingdom, even if entering the PRC. So imagine my joy when the plane landed at SFO and the moment I could access internet without censorship (but perhaps some monitoring, by the NSA...?) 

Eight more hours and two more flights till I get home. what a trip this has been, most of it done alone. I do enjoy the freedom of being a travel at will and go wherever I wish, even if against the advice of those concerned about my safety and security (I think I proved them wrong...). But there were several moments during my trip when I felt sad, pensive and down, for a journey alone is not as much joy. And I thought at times about my parents, about how it would be if they were around today for me to share with them my stories and adventures. 

SFO-ORD

Over half way through the flight, and I've been sleeping like someone drugged me, waking only when someone bumps my shoulder, since I'm in an aisle seat and this old 757 plane is so cramped.

I didn't realise how tired I am, how tired I have been. Not just from all that work and studying before the trip, but also from all that traveling and activities during the trip. Tours are tiring. In a way it's good, as you get to see more and get better value for money, but at the same time, it's fast paced and you have to  wake at six or seven every morning to set out. And doing all that biking, parrticularly in very warm conditions, is draining. Or maybe I'm getting old...? 

I had planned to work, or even write down some of my trip reports on this long journey home, but sleep just got the better of me. 

Nrt-pek

Nrt-pek

So exhausted and agitated, even though there's only an hour or so left of this flight. Been flying for over eighteen hours now. It's t getting too much already. I can't wait to have a hot shower and to lie down on a proper bed and sleep for a normal night till morning.  

The flights have been quite torturous, especially ad I choose to sit next to the window and am more or less hemmed in and need to ask for permission to get up and out. The fact that I got really ill last time I flew back to Asia has made me really paranoid. And somehow there are all these people who are sneezing and sniffing, making me really afraid of getting sick... 

So the final half an hour till we land in China. It will be interesting to see and experience for sure. From what I've seen so far , just the way people push and all crowd to board the plane, it's not pleasant. The plane already pushed back and passengers still got up and opened the overhead compartments. And  I could swear I heard the passenger behind spit. Is this normal? 

It is quite a historic moment, for I have long vowed I would not set foot in China, and have long held very negative opinions about the country. To be honest this trip was not really planned, and the main focus is really to see North Korea, the tour of which starts the day after tomorrow. But incidentally, I will get to see the People's Republic of China, this place which for so long holds such allure to many but to me is shrouded behind a veil of suspicion and animosity.

Last blog entry before the Great firewall of China.

On board bus to the plane. Surrounded by Chinese people...

This should be... interesting.

Den-nrt

UA139

Den-nrt 

It was just under a year ago that I boarded this same flight, UA139, the inaugural flight of the 787 to Tokyo Narita from Denver. How excited I felt then, my first flight with the Dreamliner. Today, is my third. That was the trip to commenmorate the  first anniversary of mum's passing.

A year can do many things to you. It can (and this year did...) make you older, more tired and pensive. It can heal you, wear you down, lift you up, or weigh heavy on you. A year on, and I feel very tired, perhaps mainly because I've slept so little and poorly over the past two, three weeks. And what better way is there to relax by going on a tour of the People's Republics of China and North Korea? 

I have been asked by many why I'm going on this trip. And the first instinct is: why not? 

Must there always be a reason to do things, a justification, an end? 

Can a trip just be the reason itself? 

I have been to many places in the world, and there are still so many more to explore. 

And North Korea is one of these places.

Sleeplessness

Three thirty in the morning. I am unable to sleep again, even though I just slept two hours or so. I don't know the reason exactly, but it may be out of fear of not waking up in time for my flight (and start of this exciting itinerary, "Tour of the People's Republics"...), and partly out of this lingering sense of defeatism I have been feeling since my exam yesterday morning.

Yes, I feel I royally did poorly. I don't know how. I just blanked out at one point for a few minutes and the question on paper said nothing to me. Two questions, worth thirty points in total were unanswered (one partly, but perhaps poorly...) Which means I already lost thirty points already. I need a fifty to pass, but it's still going to be very narrow. With some miracle, I may just scrape through, but I doubt it (being the pessimist I am...).

I don't know what happened. Perhaps I was just tired, exhausted from over a weeek of sleeping at irregular hours and trying to cram everything in at once. I studied hard, I tried so hard, and its all I  could have done. But maybe not hard enough? (It didn't help this "friend" told me a week earlier I wouldn't make it and won't be able to finish studying. How encouraging...) Maybe Im just not good enough; despite being so sleep deprived and feeling like I'm about to collapse because I'm just so tired. So very tired. I feel my body burning from exhaustion, and even putting my body through all that, I most likely failed the exam. And my stomach has been so upset over the past few days because of all the stress and tensions. No relief...

I knew the concepts, I knew the law, I had tonnes of notes, but I just couldn't make use of them. I just couldn't identify what the question was asking me and come up with a coherent answer. I just couldn't, at least not for the two questions I left blank...

I hate to have to repeat the exam again, especially as I already know I need to repeat one (Law of Evidence, this latest one I did was Property Law... ). What a blow it would be on my psyche and self esteem. But what could I do...?

I need to wake up at in half an hour. Just can't sleep. At least if I'm really tired, I could sleep across the Pacific. It's a way of coping with sitting on a cramped seat I guess.

What use is it to mull over defeat?
The exam was the way it was, right?
Perhaps its just not my year, as its been a rough few months since the beginning of the lunar New year, as the horoscope predicted

So is it really wise to be heading to countries of high risk, like the People's Republic s of China and North Korea...?

We shall find out.
And I say this with perhaps a foolish sense of bravadery, and  a hint of smugness, as if I'm trying to taunt fate by throwing cautions and numerous attempts by people to discourage me from going (and there have been many...) in the wind.

Mum's birthday

She would have been 62 today.

As I struggled on to finish studying, my mind drifted to events two years ago...
How I rushed to go see (worship) dad on a rainy day and rushed back to the hospital to bring mum (longevity) noodles... How days later, she was discharged from the hospital and my nephew (through my sistter in law) bought beautiful flowers and they stood there on the dining room table as she walked slowly and sat down on the chair...

I remember so clearly, and my blog entries back then coloured the blanks. What state I was in then...
How agitated, how tired (but strangely I did not need to sleep...I could go on and on without proper sleep, unlike now, as sleep seems to have become my refuge from the world), how pained, how worried I was then. And then, I was on the brink of my return to Canada for an exam. Then, as now, I was studying for an exam, for something that I promised mum I would complete--in a way for her, so that she could go with the knowledge that I would, at least professionally, have a stable career. Two years on, and I struggle still to live to that promise as I struggle to tick off all the exams I need to do to be admitted to the bar. 



Throughout the day, as I was reading through painfully dry material on covenants and easements, my mind flashed back to two years ago... My eyes would tear. There is a sense of relief that those days are now far behind me.. but in that relief is also a void as a result of losing no doubt the most important and dearest person in my life. Mum... I had a mum.

I had a mum I could hug. I had a mum whose hands I could hold and who would brush my hair and pat me on the back when I needed comforting. I had a mum who loved and cared for me unconditionally, even though then she was struggling with life and bravely fought cancer...

Two years on, it is all quiet here.
All alone, cooped in my room , head down, studying. The silence is only broken by soft classical music in the background, broken by occasional sobs and sniffs of a son who still longs for the love and touch of his dear, and now dead, mother.

Happy birthday, mum...

Thank you for everything.
I miss you dearly.

Dream

I was arguing with my brother, he was complaning about money issues again, particlary about how when mum visited , his bills inflated.

I became so furious. How can he be even talkokg about that now that mum is gone? How?!

I started crying. Just weeping from the thought, and from the realisation of how much I miss mum...

I woke up and found myself really crying, really missing mum...

painstaking process

It's that period of time again, when I have to go through that painstaking process of studying for my exams.

I'm not sure why, but every time I cannot disassociate the process from my mother and what she said to me before she passed away. She wants me to succeed, she wants me to pass, she sees me being successful and...

And I end up crying.

Who knows why I end up crying?

I can't describe it, I can't explain it.

I'm not trying to hark back to the past, to the days when mum spoke softly and encouraged me over the phone.

But it would be so comforting, so warming to hear her speak and listen to her soft motherly words again.

It would do wonders for my morale. It would boost my confidence and stop me going crazy and crying...

In the end, I just bite the inside of my cheeks hard, taste my own blood. It's the only way I know I can feel. It's the only way I can remind myself I am hurting. It's the way I can think of to stop myself from crying and kick myself back to what I am doing.

Upset

I just collapsed into bed and fell asleep as soon as I got home. Tired, and extremely upset.

The second (or third?) time in as many days, somebody "poured cold water in my face", and said my efforts trying to balance work and studying is "useless" and that I should not complain of fatigue. It really got me in a foul mood, and just dragged me deep down (to be fair the person has since apologised through a message). Should have come home and studied, but instead I just put my books to the side and closed my eyess.

I really just hate it to be told that what I do is not valuable work. Sure, I may not be making much money, but finally I have been on a roll and am enjoying the research and writing aspect of my job. Finally, after over a year at my job, I am beginning to feel somewhat important and valued by my colleagues, especially my boss who dropped by earlier today and told me again how he wishes to see me go into a doctorate programme.

Over the past few months, I've edited three volumes that will be published. It's no easy feat, took hours of sitting down and reading through hundreds of pages  of sometimes poorly written work of others. And I took on a project to write a chapter on a topic that was of interest but that I knew little about. and at the same time, I've had to also try to study for an exam in January, and now another onecoming up in less than ten days. All the while, I've had to content with poor health and also the emotional upset of going home and commemorating my late parents.

It's been a stressful few months, and made worse by the fact that my beloved homeland, with each passing day, seems to descent more and more into chaos and ruin. The worry I feel

I'm looking for praise or sympathy, but just some recognition and understanding is enough to make me feel I'm doing something instead of make me feel (as I do now) I'm wasting my life and my time doing useless work.

I am tired. But seems like I have no right to complain because (as someone said) I chose to do these things, and working as a lawyer is nothing compared to the level of work I do now. That may be true, but it just seriously undermines all that I do. And to add salt to injury, today someone came by while I was studying and told me it's pointless to study now because I'll never finish and understand everything till the exam.

What a thing to say to someone trying his best to study and juggle work!

Again, I have to say, it is times like this I wish I had my parents, or someone close, who can be encouraging and speak to me softly, who can empathise and give me a (metaphoric) pat on the back and remind me I am doing ok. My boss seems to think so, he seems to be someone who remembers what I have struggled with and gone through over the past few years, but why does it seem like nobody else does?

Just because I have a smile on my face does not mean Im not hurting still or feeling pain.

Am I just too soft and can't just dismiss people's comments? Should I toughen up and be even more uncaring, like people seem to become when they enter the professional track?

I should probably just suck it up. Or dismiss these people who have no clue what I am going through. Either that, or I will torture myself with echoes of their words and lack of compassion.

Maybe I am just a small boy who is still hurting inside and trying to heal in  a world where people seem to out to get you and walk over you because you are easy to push down.

"Can't take that away from me..."

Compassion.
Understanding.
Love.
Kindness.

It goes so far, it can heal and do so much.
There are moments I close my eyes and imagine myself being surrounded by all that.
By the goodness of human beings, by the compassion and understanding and good-will of my fellow people. 

But why do they seem to be so lacking in the world?
Why does the world need to be so hard, so harsh?

I refuse to give in to hatred, yet I torture myself with self-doubt and biting my fingers, allow myself to be downed by the careless words of people out to belittle you.
I refuse to give into hatred for the one simple fact I know it begets hatred, and the cycle will not end.

If I use hate and anger to deal with all that I have faced in my life till this day, my dear god, I would have probably killed someone by now. If I used hate and pain and hurt to retaliate the people who have hurt me, my dear god, I would probably be a bitter, bitter and broken person.

But who says I am not one already?
Who says I am sane and happier because I am (overly?) sensitive to events, people and goings-on around me?

Dismissive

Crying