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no tricks but lots of treats

November 3, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

jenangelatrickortreat

so we went trick-or-treating at the mall this year for safety reasons and weather issues. at first i wasn’t planning on a costume, but little Angela insisted, so i had to find something that would work from my everyday closet. i thought about going in my old high school uniform from when i was in Japan, but the uniform was at my sister’s, so i went as a school girl. not very thoughtful, but i tried. one of the gals at the hair salon said that i could be going to a charms school.

sure. that works, too.

the mall was packed with lots of dinosaurs, and snow whites, and witches and kitty cats and batmans of all sizes. after our first round, Angela surprisingly decided to stop and go home by herself! i was baffled that the little candy she had trick-or-treated (it was about 1/5 of a bucket full) was enough.

good girl!

Categories: Our Home

crossroads

October 22, 2009 obliviousjjl 2 comments

I don’t really remember what happened that day that caused me to walk home from school for the first time by myself. I must have been either seven, or eight years old. All I remember was the feeling of fear, of loneliness, of frantic search for my way back home in a familiar yet strange place. Familiar because it was a place that I had frequently passed by with my mother in the car, whether on trips to the marketplace, or on the way to playdates with my childhood friends or my cousin.

Standing at the first and only intersection that blocked my path to returning home, the set of lights that trafficked inbound and outbound cars with impatient pedestrians waiting for their turn to cross, seemed ominous. Looking at the busy intersection, a wave of anxiety washed over me, and the sudden possibility of being lost and not being able to see my mother again gripped me and pushed me over to uncontrollable tears.

I knew how I was supposed to cross the crosswalks: when the pedestrian signal flashed a white walking person, I was to walk within the confined bounds, looking both ways all the while. But I had never done it myself–my mother had always held my hand and guided me.

I wanted to step forward and to run across the street to the other side where I knew my mother was waiting for me in our home. But after each attempted first step, I only hesitated and drew back in fear. I was faintly aware of other grownups around me, starting and me and wondering with pity why this poor child was crying, where she was going, and where on earth were her parents?

I looked around frantically, sobbing all the while, wishing that someone would help me.

Someone! Anyone!

They obviously must have known I was in distress, but why wouldn’t anyone offer to help? Or even ask me where I was going? Or perhaps they did ask and offer help; I was probably too scared and hysterical with tears to say anything, much less take their help.

After who knew how many lights had passed, I finally summoned up the courage to cross the seemingly endless abyss over to the other side where my home was just beyond the horizon.

Brushing my tears away with my sleeve, I took a deep breath, and waited until the next walking lights came on. There were so many cars rushing past, honking. How do I know if I can cross safely without getting hit? What if I was really lost, and would never find my way home? Then I would never see mom again… Would she ever find me? I would be alone in this world, with no one to love me and care for me…

At the same time, I knew I had to do it. Without the help of others, without my mother holding my hand. If I wanted to get home, I had to be able to take my first step and have the courage to finish in this cruel and strange world of honking cars, blinking lights, and unfamiliar faces.

Bracing myself, waiting for the right moment, I ran as fast as I would, past the honking cars, past the blinking lights, and past the unfamiliar faces.

And… I DID IT!!!

As soon as I crossed it, I felt so relieved, and yet so overwhelmed, that the tears I had welled up behind my eyes just long enough to make the journey across the street came rushing forth, spilling onto my cheeks like a tsunami wave on the beach. But I didn’t care to hold them anymore. I sprinted the rest of the way home as fast as my little legs could carry me, sobbing the entire time, thinking of my mother and my home, and saying to myself, You must get home safely! Please get home safely! Please find your way home! Please don’t get lost!

I don’t remember the events that followed thereafter, though I knew I found my way home eventually, and was reunited with my mother. I don’t even remember when I saw my mother after that horrific confrontation with the monstrous crossroad. Surely, I must have ran in her arms and continued crying for Heavens knew how long. Neither do I remember if my mother was at home waiting, or if she had gone out in search for me.

All I remember is how I had crossed my first crossroad, how scared and alone I felt, how hard it was to find courage to take the first step and to finish by myself in doing something that I had always had guidance.

The scary thing was not the crossroad.

The scary thing, was knowing the way home, but lacking the courage to take the first step, and because of cowardness, losing the way home.

I still remember clearly which intersection it was: Jackson Street and 15th Avenue in the international district in Seattle.

One of these days, I must ask my mother her side of the story.

Categories: Uncategorized

my father’s words

October 19, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

yesterday, i received a sweet call from my dear father.

he just called to ask, “i haven’t heard your voice in a long time! how are you? how’s your health? are you eating well? are you keeping your body warm? you have to take good care of your health, it is very important.”

it was very heartwarming, though after we hung up, an aching and almost melancholic feeling washed over me.

i miss him. and of course, i also miss my mother.

i don’t know how to explain the pain of being so close, and yet feeling so far… and this remote feeling is not one of pure and simple proximity, but an absence that is not quite an absence of presence; rather, it is a mixture of an unspeakable burden that has caused a unworthy and unnecessary distance.

i know i’ve said this elsewhere before, but recently my mother’s words has frequently revisited the surfaces of my consciousness. “no matter how busy you are, no matter where you are and what you might be doing, there is nothing more important than your family. and you must take as little or as much time as is required to maintain a healthy bond with them. because you will find out in the end if you haven’t already, that even if you lose the whole world, your family will always be there at ground zero, waiting for you to come home, and waiting for you to restart a new you.”

and so, at moments of solitude, moments of sadness or happiness, in times of sunshine, rain, or snow, i think of my parents, what they have sacrificed for men with their infinite and unselfish love and support, i can’t help but feel a deep sense of longing that i must nevertheless swallow back down.

every once in a while, something will remind me of my parents’ age. they are not old, but i know that when that day arrives that one of them must leave forever, i can’t help but feel that i have not done my duty as a daughter. and i am not just talking about the superficial “duties” of keeping the house clean, doing the dishes, making sure their physical health is in excellent condition, but also the psychological “duties” of genuine love that i can never repay. the gift that they have given me is an impossible gift; i cannot return it. and perhaps in this instance, it is a true gift, one that transcends and exceeds all forms and meanings of human commodification where the gift must be returned. because nothing that is in my capability as a human being can ever be done that will equal what my parents have given me. and this realisation has truly put me in a strange state of being.

i know not how to face the day when either of my parents have to leave me. i know not how to prepare for the death of the other. indeed, it is in the finitude of the other that i am confronted with my own finitude.

Categories: Passions, Thinkings

it never gets easier…

October 18, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

to say goodbye.

you would think that after so many years of seeing someone so close to you go off on frequent business trips, that by the nth time, you would have got used to it. apparently, not very much so.

a few hours ago, i just sent off Mr. Worm to yet another business trip in China. after all the seemingly endless “goodbyes” and “i love yous” and hugs and kisses, on aboard to Asiana Airlines went Mr. Worm, on aboard thousands and thousands of miles away. i tried to tell myself to stop being so sentimental. he’ll only be gone for ten days, which is nothing compared to how long we’ve been separated for. and now that i have two kids to take care of, i should find myself with a handful and busy enough to not miss him as much.

so after we dropped off Mr. Worm, i took the kids to a late lunch and then over to Lego and bought them each a large can of Lego pieces. when we got home, they got busy with building a new world of Legos, leaving me to contemplate and adjust to a sudden and strange emptiness at the pit of my stomach, and a knot at the back of my throat.

i don’t know how to explain it. the noise in the house, mostly coming from the kids, has remained the same. but without Mr. Worm’s presence, something just feels missing……. and i do miss him dearly, even though were he at home, he would just be sitting in front of his laptop, or watching Taiwanese television shows.

*sigh~

i just hope that this trip will be worth the while, and that our financial stability will be regained as soon as possible. without him, this house is not a home.

Categories: Uncategorized

Dimensions

August 28, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

It feels as if I’ve been completely usurped into a whole new world. A different world. Of different dimensions that warp the everyday values I take for granted, of unheard rules that shatter the rules of the world that I’m comfortable in.

Discombobulated, I feel myself fumbling around in a sphere composed of mixed shadings of black, white, and grey… Mostly grey. I can’t even discern where one thing ends and another begins. More importantly, I can hardly remember the last time I was certain about what my heart wishes for. Nor can I remember definitively where my limits are.

More than ever, I feel nostalgic. This sickness of yearning that I know not what object it is directed towards. This is my home, is it not? Even at home, I do not feel hospitable.

Categories: Thinkings

memories are made of this…

June 11, 2009 obliviousjjl 1 comment

what is it that makes someone so hard to let go? no doubt, it’s the memories. but what kind of memories? it must be those that touch the deepest part of the heart, that has made the strongest and deepest impact, has even planted a seed that had once grown into a flourishing tree… only to be burned down like a forest fire, leaving behind nothing but ashes.

but the seed that has already made firm home is just waiting for the perfect moment to sprout again, and it takes only a drop of water to begin nourishment. before you know it, that seed has become a full grown forest, and is still continuing to grow, crossing over into boundaries that you yourself had erected. and when you try to get rid of it again, by burning it to the ground, you can’t get at the seed that had been firmly implanted… it has already become a part of you. hopelessly, you succumb to its cyclic whims — like the four seasons, there is a time for birth, life, and death. 20090610227

Categories: Passions, Thinkings

The Mushroom Cloud

 

mushroom cloud seattle 1

 

mushroom cloud seattle 2

This was taken along Interstate 5 northbound, somewhere past Tukwila. This was during exceptionally rainy times (yeah, Seattle is always rainy, but this time of the year we had drastic rain storms, occassionally sunny, but about 100 feet away it would be pouring). Mr. Worm and I were both “wowed”.

Categories: Uncategorized

離開了家

March 29, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

離開了家

但其實並沒有離開

心很進,距離也很進

但卻不能見面

覺得

自己很不孝

聽到爸爸窩心的留言

聽到媽媽的聲音

心裡總是有一種說不出的結

懷念雙親

距離很進

但不能投入親人的懷抱

我只有一個家

是當我人生覺的最失落的時候,跌到谷底的時候能回去的家

是當全世界再也沒有地方讓我留下來,我能休息的地方

世上沒有誰比家人還重要

也沒有誰比家人還疼我

Categories: Passions

Some reflections on Arendt, Part I

March 20, 2009 obliviousjjl Leave a comment

After finished reading ‘”What Remains? The Language Remains”: A Conversation with Günter Gaus’, I have had much self reflections going on in my mind. I have always been fascinated by Hannah Arendt; she was such a brilliant thinker, and what I love most is how beautifully and simply she explains such complex theories in a way bereft of flowery, extra diction. Simple, yet profound.

One of the qualities of her writing that I found particularly striking when I first read Arendt is her use of masculine pronouns. For some feminists (I venture to say “many”, but won’t be able to qualify with empirical proof, so I chose “some” instead), using “him” or “he” or “men” in place of “humans” is sexist and degrading to women. While I acknowledge and understand perfectly well the problems with using sexist language, personally, I think that one ought not to get too caught up or too offended; after all, words carry meaning because humans collectively impose certain concepts and thereby carry certain connotations. In some languages, like Chinese and Latin, there is no sex distinction between “him” or “her” or “human”. So I find this fascinating because Arendt reminds me of another female thinker, Rosa Luxemberg (socialist thinker and revolutionary). The link: while both being female in a male-dominated society, not only do they use the same so-called sexist language using “men” while referring to both men and women, humans in general, not only were they not bothered by the distinctions imposed and categorised by both men and women, in their intellectual spheres their voices are ostensibly rather “masculine” (i.e. powerful, influential). And yet, on a private level, they can also be considered quite “feminine” (i.e. nurturing, loving caring). While concerned with affairs dominated largely by men, they did not renounce the traditional, old values of women, e.g. being a wife, mother, daughter, ad infinitum. In other words, depending where they are and what is needed of them, they simply assume their roles and responsibilities without complaint and resistance. Now, whether or not these roles and responsibilities is “forced” upon them by society is another matter, one which I do not wish to take up now because I believe that the matter is not that simple, and neither is it something I find – personally – particularly relevant. 

Quoting from Arendt’s response to Gaus about the question of women’s emancipation: “there is always the problem as such. I have actually been rather old-fashioned. I always thought that there are certain occupations that are improper for women, that do not become them, if I may put it that way. It just doesn’t look good when a woman gives orders. She should try not to get into such a situation if she wants to remain feminine. Whether I am right about this or not I do not know. I myself have always lived in accordance with this more ore less unconsciously–or let us rather say, more or less consciously. The problem itself played no role for me personally. To put it very simply, I have always done what I liked to do.” I don’t think she was ever really concerned with the problem at all. And when Gaus inquired the purpose of Arendt’s writing was to invoke influence, she replied that that question itself was framed in very masculine terms, i.e. the need to be influential, powerful. 

I sympathise. I really do. 

I think in them, I’ve found the reason why I’m not particularly moved by feminist theory and their claims. By all due respect, it is not that I find feminist theory to be ridiculous or irrelevant. On the contrary, I think they are valid claims and need to be taken seriously. On a personal level, however, I find it interesting, but believe there are other things that strike me just as (if not more) interesting. 

I mean, I am a woman, and I am also Asian (double plus the minority level). If I am working, I do my duties required of me to the best of my ability. I take orders and if needed I give orders. If I have to, I can discuss feminism, and I can also take their side. But at home, I likewise resume my duties, call it housewife or not, which include but is not limited to, cleaning, cooking, be a loving mother and wife. I rarely take my philophising into our home. One of the reasons, of course, is because Mr. Worm (for those of you who know him) isn’t exactly the perfect interlocutor for a philosopher. To simplify my reasons, it might just be because I like to keep private and public matters separate. That is not to say I don’t philosophize at home; I do. 

Perhaps part of the reason as to why I’m a bit indifferent (though indifferent might be too strong a word) to sexism or racism is because I’ve never really experienced such phenomenon. I am not oblivious to it, because when it happens around me, I am aware of it. But as of today, I haven’t been personally affected. I hope I am not offending any adamant feminist out there, and if I have, please don’t take it too personally, as I have nothing against feminists or feminism per se. 

I think there is also a deeper aspect as to why women like Arendt refrain from using any sort of antifeminist or feminist diction. Whether you use it or blatantly attack those who use it, it seems you are still caught within that dialectic. One could also argue that refusing to use that kind of language is also a kind of feminism. But I would venture that while this is true, on the other hand, it can also simply mean one does not wish to partake in distinguishing a woman for her sexuality. Either way still means that you are caught in that opposition. What does it really mean to address woman as woman? Why not woman as simply human, just as man is simply human? Arendt would have never wanted people to recognize her as, say, the Jew who had an affair with Heidegger–neither as a woman, as a Jew, or as a philosopher. Rather, I think, simply as Hannah Arendt. That is, Arendt as one distinguished by her thinkings and what she deemed as important; Arendt in her own right, not as Arendt attached to something/one else. 

“I have never in my life “loved” any people or collective group, neither the German people, the French, the Americans, not he working class or anything of that sort. I indeed love only my friends, and the only kind of love I know of and believe in is the love of [particular] persons. Moreover, this “love of the Jews” would appear to me, since I am myself Jewish, as something rather suspect.” This was in her response to Gershom Scholem, who accused her as an intellectual from the German Left and as a Jewish unaware of the “Jewish problem”. For those of you interested, I recommend reading first some biographical background on Arendt, and her controversial report Eichmann in Jerusalem. So as I was saying, I believe there is something quite profound in this statement of hers. The more I think about it, the more I think that she is right in pointing out the practical impossibility of a true love for a group/collective of people… at least for me. Who knows? Many there are some out there who, like Jesus, love people. I just find that kind of love too abstract. Admittedly, I am not a person of such profound integrity. If anyone knows of such a person, consider yourself one-in-a-million lucky.

March 15, 2009 obliviousjjl 2 comments

…What?… Yeah, well, I’m kinda busy readin’ mah philo-zo-fee…

I mean, this is pretteh deep stuff……

Well… if ya dun mind, I’d like to go back to mah deep thinkin’…

Categories: Uncategorized