Huh. I've inadvertently turned my FB wall into a political statement/bulletin board. I don't know if I ever wanted to be that person - but I don't start fights and pretty much the only people I'm friends with (I trim my FB friends list sporadically) and who visit my wall already agree with me anyway. So, oh well. No regrets.
In the interests of sharing, some articles I found tremendously interesting:
- Paper Tigers: What happens to all the Asian-American overachievers when the test-taking ends?
An older article (May 8) on the limitations of Asian-American "values" and upbringing, as well as the theoretical Bamboo Ceiling. A lot of really interesting points, though not all of which I agreed with. (And I definitely side-eyed the bit about "targeting" women in an effort to teach Asian guys how to have the cojones to hit on women. Um.)
- Why You Should Never Listen to Asian American "Writers" of Angst
A rebuttal/response to the above, presenting the view of an Asian-American who now embraces the self-same values and upbringing decried in the above article. Really, really interesting response, in my opinion! From my point of view, though, I agree with neither 100% and both sides come off a tad defensive of their own values and life circumstances, but that is not in itself a bad thing. It's not about picking a side, for me, but hearing different opinions. As D said, the best part of the article (and subsequent response) is the same as when Amy Chua's Tiger Mothers controversy blew up - it's the fact that Asian-American voices are being heard at all! We're not a uniform bloc of experiences or values or opinions and I think it's both necessary and pretty damn cool when we do (get to, choose to) speak up.
- My Life as an Undocumented Immigrant
A Pulitzer-winning author talks about his American dream as an illegal immigrant. Long but moving and, for me, enlightening. (Thanks for the link, L. ♥)
- Quick Hitters on Illegal Immigration
A response from the same blog as #2, this time to address a lot of misconceptions people have about illegal immigrants in the U.S. A bit tongue-in-cheek, definitely biased, but informative. Plus, he talks about law! It's like I'm studying, right?
Showing posts with label being asian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being asian. Show all posts
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
on getting older but not old enough
Nothing particularly significant today, but my mood is really terrible regardless. I am feeling particularly surly and uncharitable with nothing specific to pin it on - perhaps it's the cumulation of small things.
I think I'm old at times. Especially lately, with people graduating undergrad and making all these posts about how it's the end of an era, how they'll never again have these easy times with friends, drunken jokes, late nights, a certain kind of freedom from any real-world responsibilities, and so on. It's familiar, the kind of thing college graduates have been saying for probably centuries (or at least decades, if we're allowing for the evolution of popular undergrad experiences to what it is today). Yet these posts make me feel my age, because these are people I consider my equals, close to me in age, but I forget that they are younger. Most of the time it doesn't matter, until posts like these make me realize I left undergrad three years ago. Not this year or last year, but three years ago. It's not such a huge amount of time but it drives home, nonetheless, that a certain sect of my friends are all younger than me - some of them significantly younger than me. Why am I not as close with the friends who are older? It's probably because I'm still incredibly immature inside. Not to say that anyone younger in years is automatically more immature, but that I still feel incredibly young, inexperienced, irresponsible, and immature remains true.
My parents are getting old. Not just older, but old. The meds they have to take, their health worries... The way they are surprised by their own ages each year, the way they are tired, the way my mom hates it a little bit - all of it makes me ashamed that I can't be more grown-up, more adult, more capable of taking care of myself and taking care of them.
People both older and younger tell me I'm still young. What am I supposed to say? In some ways, it's not true. Twenty-four this year is not that young. In some ways, it is. There's still a lot of my life left (presumably). I still have so far to go.
*
I just got back from a walk with my mom; we had a good discussion (read: heated argument that resolved into a good discussion) about Asians in America, first generation of immigrants versus their Westernized (but still Asian-influenced) children, political representation, minority status, speaking out, working hard, changing the world... I used to be afraid I would be like my parents when I grew up. Then I was afraid I wouldn't be, that I wouldn't be Asian enough. Now, I think I am more at peace with the fact that I will be different in some ways (ways that I am grateful for), many ways, perhaps - but that doesn't mean I will ever forget where my roots are.
My Asian-American identity is one I am wrestling with better than my age. We fight a lot of battles with ourselves, don't we?
My parents are getting old. Not just older, but old. The meds they have to take, their health worries... The way they are surprised by their own ages each year, the way they are tired, the way my mom hates it a little bit - all of it makes me ashamed that I can't be more grown-up, more adult, more capable of taking care of myself and taking care of them.
People both older and younger tell me I'm still young. What am I supposed to say? In some ways, it's not true. Twenty-four this year is not that young. In some ways, it is. There's still a lot of my life left (presumably). I still have so far to go.
I just got back from a walk with my mom; we had a good discussion (read: heated argument that resolved into a good discussion) about Asians in America, first generation of immigrants versus their Westernized (but still Asian-influenced) children, political representation, minority status, speaking out, working hard, changing the world... I used to be afraid I would be like my parents when I grew up. Then I was afraid I wouldn't be, that I wouldn't be Asian enough. Now, I think I am more at peace with the fact that I will be different in some ways (ways that I am grateful for), many ways, perhaps - but that doesn't mean I will ever forget where my roots are.
My Asian-American identity is one I am wrestling with better than my age. We fight a lot of battles with ourselves, don't we?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
welcome to the year of the rabbit
(image pulled from Google)
Happy Lunar New Year!
新年快乐 恭喜发财
Favorite foods/food places so far in Singapore:
- chicken rice on Waterloo (thanks, P!)
- laksa at Penang Kitchen at Coronation Plaza
- 酸辣炒米粉/spicy stir-fried vermicelli with pork near Bugis
- Nutella & strawberry crepes at Plaza Singapura
- 老北京炸酱面/Old Beijing Style jjajangmyeon at PGP food court (or anywhere, really)
- pork chops, peach iced tea at Republic of Steak (need to go back to try their ribeye, oh god)
- Chicken Basil Aoili at Pastamania
- any of the dishes at the Korean food place at Clementi (spicy pork & kimchi fried rice, mm)
- fresh mango juice at Bugis, or anywhere
- wonton noodle soup w/ char siew, anywhere
- all Asian bakeries but especially Bread Talk
- any and all of the 2 vegetable + 1 meat meals, because oh my god the selection is always such good Chinese food ♥
- also, tom yum flavored ramen is surprisingly delicious; I think I just like spicy & sour flavored foods
Food orgasms are my constant state of being in Singapore and I like it that way.
Friday, January 14, 2011
i've never claimed to be anything but biased
Let the record show that Beijing-style 炸酱面 will always be better than Korean-style 짜장면. Such was dinner, delicious.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
a meandering tale of summer
Argh, job-hunting woes. All I'm looking for is some part-time summer/fall work, please! Any income would be great at this point. CB&W may hire for the fall ugh. Borders, call me back right now! Maybe B&N is hiring too?
In other news, there is no real news. I am torn between missing people and thinking I should reach out more via phone calls and feeling incredibly introverted and prone to isolation. I'm pretty sure the latter is not really the healthiest of choices, especially in light needing to maintain friendships, but it is so much easier! Why do I always try for the path of least resistance? I know better. I also know I feel much happier/more satisfied/more accomplished when I have worked against the path of least resistance and have actually accomplished something. Still.
I have again lapsed into losing the creative urges, so my word count so far this year is abysmally low. Such is the theme of this summer, I suspect, much unlike last summer. I feel pretty blasé about that - which probably concerns me more than the low word count or lack of writing. Shouldn't I be more upset that I'm not feeling the drive to write that I used? I remember being so unhappy whenever I couldn't write before. Now I sort of just shrug and dismiss it and continue reading/living/whatever.
Some random thoughts on:
Food
I have a love affair with milk tea, man. Not even bubble tea (unless it's the freshly made authentic/homemad kind), but milk tea itself. It would surpass my love of coffee if only it kept me ramped up like coffee does but, well, coffee's effect is probably mostly in my head but, my, those are some mighty powerful effects. This reminds me that I need to just suck it up and go buy a coffeemaker tomorrow.
(In related news, I was thrilled by the Top Chef Masters finale tonight. I think I enjoy it more than regular Top Chef for a number of reasons that I am too lazy to list out at the moment.)
Kpop
My thoughts on kpop are this: apparently SS3 is running from August to next April. I'm in Singapore next spring (Jan-May) and if they happen to have a tour date in Singapore or Malaysia during that time, I will go. Otherwise, whatever. I'm pretty disappointed that the Wonder Girls/2AM concert in St. Louis was cancelled though. Sunye!
Life in general
I keep feeling vaguely stressed (or dissatisfied?) by life and I'm not entirely sure why: maybe it's the lack of job. Maybe it's just this humming under my skin about not feeling productive enough. Let's face the facts: a lifetime of pushing hard and being told to push harder to meet expectations, that you're not meeting your potential, and that you can always (and should always) do better - it's hard to know what it means to "relax". A little part of you's always going to be whispering: hey, do you know all the things you could be doing with this time instead, you procrastinating slacker? Even if another part of you argues that, dude, there's only one life and you need to experience so many aspects of it to truly know what living's like.
/end philosophical meandering into the psyche
In other news, there is no real news. I am torn between missing people and thinking I should reach out more via phone calls and feeling incredibly introverted and prone to isolation. I'm pretty sure the latter is not really the healthiest of choices, especially in light needing to maintain friendships, but it is so much easier! Why do I always try for the path of least resistance? I know better. I also know I feel much happier/more satisfied/more accomplished when I have worked against the path of least resistance and have actually accomplished something. Still.
I have again lapsed into losing the creative urges, so my word count so far this year is abysmally low. Such is the theme of this summer, I suspect, much unlike last summer. I feel pretty blasé about that - which probably concerns me more than the low word count or lack of writing. Shouldn't I be more upset that I'm not feeling the drive to write that I used? I remember being so unhappy whenever I couldn't write before. Now I sort of just shrug and dismiss it and continue reading/living/whatever.
Some random thoughts on:
Food
I have a love affair with milk tea, man. Not even bubble tea (unless it's the freshly made authentic/homemad kind), but milk tea itself. It would surpass my love of coffee if only it kept me ramped up like coffee does but, well, coffee's effect is probably mostly in my head but, my, those are some mighty powerful effects. This reminds me that I need to just suck it up and go buy a coffeemaker tomorrow.
(In related news, I was thrilled by the Top Chef Masters finale tonight. I think I enjoy it more than regular Top Chef for a number of reasons that I am too lazy to list out at the moment.)
Kpop
My thoughts on kpop are this: apparently SS3 is running from August to next April. I'm in Singapore next spring (Jan-May) and if they happen to have a tour date in Singapore or Malaysia during that time, I will go. Otherwise, whatever. I'm pretty disappointed that the Wonder Girls/2AM concert in St. Louis was cancelled though. Sunye!
Life in general
I keep feeling vaguely stressed (or dissatisfied?) by life and I'm not entirely sure why: maybe it's the lack of job. Maybe it's just this humming under my skin about not feeling productive enough. Let's face the facts: a lifetime of pushing hard and being told to push harder to meet expectations, that you're not meeting your potential, and that you can always (and should always) do better - it's hard to know what it means to "relax". A little part of you's always going to be whispering: hey, do you know all the things you could be doing with this time instead, you procrastinating slacker? Even if another part of you argues that, dude, there's only one life and you need to experience so many aspects of it to truly know what living's like.
/end philosophical meandering into the psyche
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
what do you know of your past?
I would have an intellectual discussion on Mao but I never feel like I am informed enough; I'd prefer that other educated and informed individuals hold a conversation or discussion and let me listen in and learn. The most I can contribute, I feel, is personal experience and feelings: how I feel regarding certain issues, how people I know or have observed have felt regarding certain issues, and so on.
This pondering stemmed from an article on an artist's controversial dressing of her baby daughter in outfits depicting, and I quote, "the most evil historical figures of the 20th century". The figures included: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Ayatollah Khomeini, Chairman Mao Zedong, Idi Amin, Augusto Pinochet, and Slobodan Milosevic. (Mind, this is for art, which in my mind allows it some leeway. Also, the shallow side of me finds the baby-in-the-Mao-outfit pretty adorable, but that may be the maternal instinct and the Asian bias.)
So my question is: Is Mao considered one of the "most evil historical figures of the 20th century" to a level that makes him comparable to Hitler and Stalin?
I will be the first to admit that he was an idealist and made a lot of misguided attempts at governing that ended in dismal, nigh catastrophic, failure. Many, many millions of people suffered the consequences of his actions.
But I cannot seem to reconcile what I know of him - what I know of Chinese people and their opinions on him - with the Clearly Evil label that the West seems too happy to slap on him. Was he a dictator? Did he commit mass genocide? Did he start or perpetuate a world war? Oppress and starve his people? Not to my knowledge (and my disclaimer is, I humbly recognize, that my knowledge is incomplete and limited).
The majority of the negative opinions directed at him from the West is, as far as I can tell, based almost solely on the fact that he is seen as a figurehead closely tied to Communism. And Communism is Evil. Therefore, Mao is Evil.
One friend, Chinese*, answered my query: "To me, he is. He might have started out with good intentions but he went totally insane."
Another friend, also Chinese**, replied: "No." She qualified it by adding, paraphrased, that although the West seems quick to brand him evil, so much of China seems to like, respect, or otherwise admire him - as if he's done something good. And that, to her, matters. The opinions of the people he was ruling, who would be the ones to most directly suffer the consequences of his actions, matters. And I think it should. To quote her again: "There's only so much ~brainwashing~ can do."
These are things I wonder.
Related to this, but tangentially, the article I linked has a poll. The optional answers to the question "Do you find Baby Hitler offensive?" are: (1) Yes. It's a horrible thing to do to a baby.; (2) No. It's a harmless expression of art.; and (3) Not sure.
So this is food for thought for the moment, while I study for my Korean midterm tomorrow and discuss with various people (again) the utter mediocrity of Burton's Alice in Wonderland. I feel like he's overrated as a director, which is sad, because the visuals are amazing and most of the key actors (save Alice) put in great performances - but that all falls well short of producing a great movie when the story and directing seem so lacking. I'm sad. It had so much potential to be great.
*In the interest of full disclosure, she's Singaporean.
**Canadian.
This pondering stemmed from an article on an artist's controversial dressing of her baby daughter in outfits depicting, and I quote, "the most evil historical figures of the 20th century". The figures included: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Ayatollah Khomeini, Chairman Mao Zedong, Idi Amin, Augusto Pinochet, and Slobodan Milosevic. (Mind, this is for art, which in my mind allows it some leeway. Also, the shallow side of me finds the baby-in-the-Mao-outfit pretty adorable, but that may be the maternal instinct and the Asian bias.)
So my question is: Is Mao considered one of the "most evil historical figures of the 20th century" to a level that makes him comparable to Hitler and Stalin?
I will be the first to admit that he was an idealist and made a lot of misguided attempts at governing that ended in dismal, nigh catastrophic, failure. Many, many millions of people suffered the consequences of his actions.
But I cannot seem to reconcile what I know of him - what I know of Chinese people and their opinions on him - with the Clearly Evil label that the West seems too happy to slap on him. Was he a dictator? Did he commit mass genocide? Did he start or perpetuate a world war? Oppress and starve his people? Not to my knowledge (and my disclaimer is, I humbly recognize, that my knowledge is incomplete and limited).
The majority of the negative opinions directed at him from the West is, as far as I can tell, based almost solely on the fact that he is seen as a figurehead closely tied to Communism. And Communism is Evil. Therefore, Mao is Evil.
One friend, Chinese*, answered my query: "To me, he is. He might have started out with good intentions but he went totally insane."
Another friend, also Chinese**, replied: "No." She qualified it by adding, paraphrased, that although the West seems quick to brand him evil, so much of China seems to like, respect, or otherwise admire him - as if he's done something good. And that, to her, matters. The opinions of the people he was ruling, who would be the ones to most directly suffer the consequences of his actions, matters. And I think it should. To quote her again: "There's only so much ~brainwashing~ can do."
These are things I wonder.
Related to this, but tangentially, the article I linked has a poll. The optional answers to the question "Do you find Baby Hitler offensive?" are: (1) Yes. It's a horrible thing to do to a baby.; (2) No. It's a harmless expression of art.; and (3) Not sure.
Dear New York Daily News:
Yes, I find the outfit on the baby offensive - not the baby herself - because of the ugliness of Hitler's actions and on behalf of all the people who suffered his actions. Not because it's a horrible thing to do to a baby. Why on earth would you think that the baby is the victim here?
Though I can't say I'm terribly supportive of you calling her "Baby Hitler".
Bemused by the misplacing of your priorities when questioning things that are PC,
Mei
So this is food for thought for the moment, while I study for my Korean midterm tomorrow and discuss with various people (again) the utter mediocrity of Burton's Alice in Wonderland. I feel like he's overrated as a director, which is sad, because the visuals are amazing and most of the key actors (save Alice) put in great performances - but that all falls well short of producing a great movie when the story and directing seem so lacking. I'm sad. It had so much potential to be great.
*In the interest of full disclosure, she's Singaporean.
**Canadian.
Monday, March 15, 2010
a successful return from spring break
First day back from break was tough, probably understandably so. It was also ridiculously long - I got to school at 9 this morning and worked on my seminar paper research then had lunch and Korean class. Afterwards I sorted out the details of Operation Babylift, went to Trademarks, did more work on seminar paper research, and finally met with L to do dinner at Ibby's with the panelists. L and I were there early so we played a game of "guess if those people are part of our party" because I had never met and thus didn't recognize any of the panelists I was supposed to meet for our reservation. We failed the game when a group of them walked past us and were seated before we realized that, actually, yes, they were in our party and we should be introduced and seated as well.
Ibby's was really nice, one of those fancy sit-down places where just reading the menu makes my mouth water. Possibly I'm just craving non-Asian food though. Dinner was good, admittedly a little awkward at times before people settled down in their seats and struck up decent conversation. Tammy, the filmmaker, was very eloquent - very young and quite pretty too. I was more impressed with her eloquence though, and her passion for her film - I'm sure she had to be passionate about the project, considering that it took 4.5 years to complete and she had over 40 hours of film in the end. Apparently the first rough cut was 3.5 hours before she finally cut it down to 73 minutes.
L and I chatted with Tammy's husband about law school and where we grew up and some with Professor A about adoption law and cases, all over delicious (free!) food. I had a salad with mixed lettuce, candied pecans, dried cranberries, blue cheese, and a raspberry vinaigrette - so good. I love sweet salads, I do. And then I had maple-glazed shrimp - I knew I would be ordering that as soon as I saw the menu because I have been craving shrimp for nigh on a month now. Still craving it, in fact - it was a light dinner so our menu included only "small plates" and that translated to "not nearly enough shrimp for Mei".
We trekked over to the law school after dinner, making the most of the light. As much as I ahte losing an hour to go on daylight savings, it really is made up for the fact that we have light much longer into the day. The trade-off for gaining the hour in the fall is offset by darkness at five and an abrupt end to any productivity. S commented that you feel like the day ends when it gets dark, so there goes the night. It's absolutely true. I feel like a heliophilic plant, I swear - I thrive off sunlight and can't operate well without it. The night makes me close to useless.
In any case, we welcomed in the flood of attendees (I was really happy to see how many people turned out) and I did a brief welcome. Professor A introduced Tammy, who introduced her film, and then the lights fell and we got to the movie screening. I really don't know what to say about it except that it was really such a good documentary. Operation Babylift: The Lost Children of Vietnam - I hereby officially recommend it. It is so emotionally impacting; it leaves a strong impression, stirs the levels of human empathy. The panel afterwards was really good too, with a lot of people speaking up to offer their own experiences and stories. I was surprised at how many people who attended the screening had personal connections to intercountry adoption or to the Vietnamese adoptees in particular. Overall, I'd say the event was a success and I'm really pleased that it turned out so well. I'm so happy we got to show the film and had Tammy come. I definitely left feeling emotionally (and mentally) enriched. So even though it went on 'til 9pm meaning I was at school for 12 straight hours - it was worth it. It was a very moving film.
Now to set L on the thank you notes - such few words can mean so much! As proved by the Bursons' gratitude at being invited to an event they so graciously and generously sponsored with their student activities fund. I'll need to include Events Planning in the thank yous, too. It's such a simple thing, a basic courtesy, and it makes me sad that my generation doesn't seem to remember those niceties unless formally reminded or rebuked. Birthday cards, thank you notes, Christmas cards - I hope I never reach a point where I don't make the effort. Some things deserve the personal, tangible touch.
Ibby's was really nice, one of those fancy sit-down places where just reading the menu makes my mouth water. Possibly I'm just craving non-Asian food though. Dinner was good, admittedly a little awkward at times before people settled down in their seats and struck up decent conversation. Tammy, the filmmaker, was very eloquent - very young and quite pretty too. I was more impressed with her eloquence though, and her passion for her film - I'm sure she had to be passionate about the project, considering that it took 4.5 years to complete and she had over 40 hours of film in the end. Apparently the first rough cut was 3.5 hours before she finally cut it down to 73 minutes.
L and I chatted with Tammy's husband about law school and where we grew up and some with Professor A about adoption law and cases, all over delicious (free!) food. I had a salad with mixed lettuce, candied pecans, dried cranberries, blue cheese, and a raspberry vinaigrette - so good. I love sweet salads, I do. And then I had maple-glazed shrimp - I knew I would be ordering that as soon as I saw the menu because I have been craving shrimp for nigh on a month now. Still craving it, in fact - it was a light dinner so our menu included only "small plates" and that translated to "not nearly enough shrimp for Mei".
We trekked over to the law school after dinner, making the most of the light. As much as I ahte losing an hour to go on daylight savings, it really is made up for the fact that we have light much longer into the day. The trade-off for gaining the hour in the fall is offset by darkness at five and an abrupt end to any productivity. S commented that you feel like the day ends when it gets dark, so there goes the night. It's absolutely true. I feel like a heliophilic plant, I swear - I thrive off sunlight and can't operate well without it. The night makes me close to useless.
In any case, we welcomed in the flood of attendees (I was really happy to see how many people turned out) and I did a brief welcome. Professor A introduced Tammy, who introduced her film, and then the lights fell and we got to the movie screening. I really don't know what to say about it except that it was really such a good documentary. Operation Babylift: The Lost Children of Vietnam - I hereby officially recommend it. It is so emotionally impacting; it leaves a strong impression, stirs the levels of human empathy. The panel afterwards was really good too, with a lot of people speaking up to offer their own experiences and stories. I was surprised at how many people who attended the screening had personal connections to intercountry adoption or to the Vietnamese adoptees in particular. Overall, I'd say the event was a success and I'm really pleased that it turned out so well. I'm so happy we got to show the film and had Tammy come. I definitely left feeling emotionally (and mentally) enriched. So even though it went on 'til 9pm meaning I was at school for 12 straight hours - it was worth it. It was a very moving film.
Now to set L on the thank you notes - such few words can mean so much! As proved by the Bursons' gratitude at being invited to an event they so graciously and generously sponsored with their student activities fund. I'll need to include Events Planning in the thank yous, too. It's such a simple thing, a basic courtesy, and it makes me sad that my generation doesn't seem to remember those niceties unless formally reminded or rebuked. Birthday cards, thank you notes, Christmas cards - I hope I never reach a point where I don't make the effort. Some things deserve the personal, tangible touch.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
preparation for travels abroad
I'm going to be in Beijing this summer for a public interest legal-aid internship. I'll be leaving tomorrow and gone until Aug 3. I'll be keeping a travel/work blog while I'm in Beijing, over at Travel Well These Waters.
As things stand, I'm not sure what my free time/internet time looks like, since I will be working most of the day, and I want to go out and explore some nights as well. Weekends will be free at least! There are eight other interns from the U.S. working with me, mostly from other law schools, one from mine, and hopefully we'll get along well enough to go out together. :)
I'm excited about the internship, especially since it's my first prolonged stay in China (especially on my own); previously, I've only visited for fun or with family. This will be my first real experience "living" in China, and it will give me a good idea for whether it's to my taste or not, which will weigh in my considerations for future jobs (do I want to live in China? would I mind?). The big concern right now is, as it is worldwide, the H1N1 virus. Personally, I don't think it's terribly worrisome (the actual flu is not terrible and the normal yearly flu kills more), but acting governments do have to respond to public outcry and fear, naturally, by instilling certain preventative measures regarding international travel. This means that customs forms will be carefully checked, additional health inspections have been put in place, and you run the risk that if anyone on your flight has symptoms of the flu (any flu, really), the entire plane will be quarantined. I expect China to be especially wary of flights coming from the U.S. or Canada, as these countries have had the highest rates of infection outside of Mexico (China currently only has three reported cases).
My mom, who flew to China a week ago, has kept me updated on what to expect, so that at least is reassuring, going into the situation somewhat armed with knowledge. I'm a little worried about what might happen should the entire plane be quarantined, but I figure as long as I don't have the flu, no matter the delay, I will have to be released at some point...it may delay the beginning of my internship and cause more of a hassle, but it will hardly ruin my entire summer.
I'm not sure if the rest of the world has instigated such stringent health inspections for international flights, but it's something to keep in mind for anyone traveling abroad this summer. Basic preventative measures of getting the flu: same as always! Wash your hands with soap or clean with alcohol wipes, especially after being in public and touching public surfaces. Cover your mouth when you cough. Um, eat well and sleep well, because those are both incredibly beneficial to boosting your immune system. I feel like a mom, orz.
I think I should be fine - I speak fluent conversational Mandarin (does that make sense? lol) and I know people in Beijing who should be able to help out. Hopefully, after the first week there, and I've showed no signs of carrying a horrible infectious flu from the sickly West, I should be able to go out and about with no problems.
As things stand, I'm not sure what my free time/internet time looks like, since I will be working most of the day, and I want to go out and explore some nights as well. Weekends will be free at least! There are eight other interns from the U.S. working with me, mostly from other law schools, one from mine, and hopefully we'll get along well enough to go out together. :)
I'm excited about the internship, especially since it's my first prolonged stay in China (especially on my own); previously, I've only visited for fun or with family. This will be my first real experience "living" in China, and it will give me a good idea for whether it's to my taste or not, which will weigh in my considerations for future jobs (do I want to live in China? would I mind?). The big concern right now is, as it is worldwide, the H1N1 virus. Personally, I don't think it's terribly worrisome (the actual flu is not terrible and the normal yearly flu kills more), but acting governments do have to respond to public outcry and fear, naturally, by instilling certain preventative measures regarding international travel. This means that customs forms will be carefully checked, additional health inspections have been put in place, and you run the risk that if anyone on your flight has symptoms of the flu (any flu, really), the entire plane will be quarantined. I expect China to be especially wary of flights coming from the U.S. or Canada, as these countries have had the highest rates of infection outside of Mexico (China currently only has three reported cases).
My mom, who flew to China a week ago, has kept me updated on what to expect, so that at least is reassuring, going into the situation somewhat armed with knowledge. I'm a little worried about what might happen should the entire plane be quarantined, but I figure as long as I don't have the flu, no matter the delay, I will have to be released at some point...it may delay the beginning of my internship and cause more of a hassle, but it will hardly ruin my entire summer.
I'm not sure if the rest of the world has instigated such stringent health inspections for international flights, but it's something to keep in mind for anyone traveling abroad this summer. Basic preventative measures of getting the flu: same as always! Wash your hands with soap or clean with alcohol wipes, especially after being in public and touching public surfaces. Cover your mouth when you cough. Um, eat well and sleep well, because those are both incredibly beneficial to boosting your immune system. I feel like a mom, orz.
I think I should be fine - I speak fluent conversational Mandarin (does that make sense? lol) and I know people in Beijing who should be able to help out. Hopefully, after the first week there, and I've showed no signs of carrying a horrible infectious flu from the sickly West, I should be able to go out and about with no problems.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, December 22, 2008
getting to know me
Everyone who knows me well should know the two things that define and shape me as a person, that guide me through my life:
(1) My culture and heritage. I'm Chinese, and it matters. I'm proud of that. No matter how much I love and admire the U.S., no matter how interested I am in Korean or Japanese culture, my family and my roots are in China. It will always--taste like, sound like, feel like--be home.
(2) My family. I want to make my parents proud, and to take care of them when they're older. I always wish I could do more. They've raised me to believe I can always work harder, do better, be more. It can be discouraging at times, but I want to be the best daughter and sister that I can be.
I'd like to think people who know me know this about me; that they acknowledge it, recognize it, appreciate it. I'd like to think they respect me for it.
This is who I am. These are two unchangeable parts of who I am, integral and eternal.
(1) My culture and heritage. I'm Chinese, and it matters. I'm proud of that. No matter how much I love and admire the U.S., no matter how interested I am in Korean or Japanese culture, my family and my roots are in China. It will always--taste like, sound like, feel like--be home.
(2) My family. I want to make my parents proud, and to take care of them when they're older. I always wish I could do more. They've raised me to believe I can always work harder, do better, be more. It can be discouraging at times, but I want to be the best daughter and sister that I can be.
I'd like to think people who know me know this about me; that they acknowledge it, recognize it, appreciate it. I'd like to think they respect me for it.
This is who I am. These are two unchangeable parts of who I am, integral and eternal.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
[essay] on being chinese-american
I was told that I should write about what it means to be a Chinese-American. It’s a singular experience, shared in part but never entirely, by those who are also something else-American: Irish-American, Italian-American, Korean-American, or anything else. But what does it mean to be Chinese-American? For many people, it probably means living in an American society but being raised by Chinese parents. It means straddling two countries, two nationalities, two cultures, and more – essentially, it is about having two identities.
Or so people think.
I think differently.
It’s not as discrete as being split into two. You do not have two personalities, one that comes out at your American school and one that comes out at Chinese dinner parties, no matter how true that may feel. You are not like the sun and the moon, or like water and wine, or like black and white. Being Chinese-American is about being one person, you, and that encompasses everything you are into one entity. It is much closer to shades of gray.
You grow up listening to Chinese simply because your parents are; you grow up listening to English because that’s where you live and how you communicate with the world. You eat American food, Chinese food, Italian food, Japanese food; listen to American music, Korean music; watch American movies, Indian movies, French movies. Whatever you do, it’s multi-cultural and diverse, because that’s the kind of world we live in now. There is no line drawn within you separating these parts of you.
So whether or not you are fluent in Chinese, whether or not you know anything about Chinese history, it’s still a part of your heritage. For me, being Chinese-American means that I pay more attention to Sino-American politics because my parents pay more attention to them: I am more exposed to a different point of view. Being Chinese-American means that even though I listen to Japanese and Korean music, I understand Chinese music, because of who I am. Recently, I’ve been listening to hit Chinese songs from the 1980s and then discovering that my parents are familiar with the songs too. It’s unexpected but practical proof that I am not two separate entities, two separate identities, but only two halves of whole. Being Chinese-American is a combination of who I am and what I’m interested in, and a heritage that is part of me, no matter where I live or what I choose to like. My parents will always be Chinese, and China will always have a history and culture that defines a nation that I will in some way always belong to, even if I lived in Belgium and spoke French. I would be Chinese-Belgian then, but the defining adjective would still be “Chinese”.
Being Chinese-American means being raised with different expectations, not just from your parents, who expect good grades and for you to go to Chinese school, but also from society. People around you will expect you to speak Chinese or know kung-fu, if they are more ignorant, or for you to get straight As and play piano, if they are more familiar with the Chinese-American community. People will look at you and label you “Asian”, not “American”. Sometimes, it’s not flattering; sometimes, it’s not deliberate; oftentimes, it’s not cruel, but it is a fact. You learn to accept it and work with it: it’s a part of growing up.
Growing up entails a lot of acceptance – acceptance of who you are, where you’re from, what shapes your life, and how you will choose to live. Acceptance that your life is neither black nor white, but shades of gray.
One of my co-workers asked me the other day who I would cheer for if the U.S.A. and China competed against each other in the Olympics. Keep in mind that I’ve lived in the U.S. for eighteen of my twenty-one years, that I’m an American citizen, and that I speak English far more fluently than Mandarin. Keep in mind that I love America.
I smile at her as if she’s crazy. “I’m cheering for China, of course.”
Of course, because being Chinese-American means you never forget the part of you that defines what kind of American you are.
You are Chinese-American.
永远祝福中国。
Or so people think.
I think differently.
You grow up listening to Chinese simply because your parents are; you grow up listening to English because that’s where you live and how you communicate with the world. You eat American food, Chinese food, Italian food, Japanese food; listen to American music, Korean music; watch American movies, Indian movies, French movies. Whatever you do, it’s multi-cultural and diverse, because that’s the kind of world we live in now. There is no line drawn within you separating these parts of you.
So whether or not you are fluent in Chinese, whether or not you know anything about Chinese history, it’s still a part of your heritage. For me, being Chinese-American means that I pay more attention to Sino-American politics because my parents pay more attention to them: I am more exposed to a different point of view. Being Chinese-American means that even though I listen to Japanese and Korean music, I understand Chinese music, because of who I am. Recently, I’ve been listening to hit Chinese songs from the 1980s and then discovering that my parents are familiar with the songs too. It’s unexpected but practical proof that I am not two separate entities, two separate identities, but only two halves of whole. Being Chinese-American is a combination of who I am and what I’m interested in, and a heritage that is part of me, no matter where I live or what I choose to like. My parents will always be Chinese, and China will always have a history and culture that defines a nation that I will in some way always belong to, even if I lived in Belgium and spoke French. I would be Chinese-Belgian then, but the defining adjective would still be “Chinese”.
Being Chinese-American means being raised with different expectations, not just from your parents, who expect good grades and for you to go to Chinese school, but also from society. People around you will expect you to speak Chinese or know kung-fu, if they are more ignorant, or for you to get straight As and play piano, if they are more familiar with the Chinese-American community. People will look at you and label you “Asian”, not “American”. Sometimes, it’s not flattering; sometimes, it’s not deliberate; oftentimes, it’s not cruel, but it is a fact. You learn to accept it and work with it: it’s a part of growing up.
Growing up entails a lot of acceptance – acceptance of who you are, where you’re from, what shapes your life, and how you will choose to live. Acceptance that your life is neither black nor white, but shades of gray.
One of my co-workers asked me the other day who I would cheer for if the U.S.A. and China competed against each other in the Olympics. Keep in mind that I’ve lived in the U.S. for eighteen of my twenty-one years, that I’m an American citizen, and that I speak English far more fluently than Mandarin. Keep in mind that I love America.
I smile at her as if she’s crazy. “I’m cheering for China, of course.”
Of course, because being Chinese-American means you never forget the part of you that defines what kind of American you are.
You are Chinese-American.
永远祝福中国。
Thursday, May 15, 2008
我想为你努力
I know they're proud of me, but sometimes it's not enough. They're not proud enough. There is always something they can say, always some fault they can find, something to criticize, something I haven't done right, or well enough, or at all. And it hurts, because they're right. This is the way I feel about myself, why I can never really accept all the accolades and praises people try to give me about my accomplishments: whatever I've done, I could've done more.
I don't dismiss what I've achieved as unimportant, but all of it really fades into the background when it comes to what I could be doing, should be doing, could've/should've/would've done instead. Take for instance this summer: I should've put more work into finding something to do after I come back from China and Korea. I tentatively have an option open at a restaurant, but it's not a guarantee. Why didn't I look for an internship instead? Why didn't I plan ahead for something sound and of worth, volunteer work, even? I don't take the initiative often enough.
I know my parents are proud of me, but they see better than anyone my faults and shortcomings, and they let me know-- They do it when they're irritable and stressed, which means that their guard is down and this is how they feel at the moment (that I'm not enough), but it also means that they don't always feel this way (which is some sort of comfort).
It does hurt; of course it does. I don't think anyone's opinions of me matter quite as much as my parents'. That doesn't mean I'll let their opinions of me shape my entire life or my beliefs, because I know I live a different life than they do, and I know they're wrong at times, but their opininos certainly do make an impact and carry weight.
It does hurt when they tell me I'm not good enough, but considering the rest of tonight, I'd rather they be upset with me than with each other. Because I at least know that they love me anyway, that they're only worried about me, wanting the best for me.
I hate it when they're upset with each other. I hate it when they're so tired, so sick, so stressed, that they snap at each other over every little thing. I hate that my mom hates her job, because there's so much pressure, and I hate that my dad feels the same way about his job, constantly struggling to prove himself to his superiors and support the family. I hate that my parents don't communicate well with each other, I hate that they don't understand why the other one is legitimately upset. I hate that they're both sick right now and that neither of their health is that good.
I hate that my parents are unhappy so much, or at all, and I hate that they're getting old.
I hate that I don't know what to do about it. I wish I could support the family financially and my mom could quit her job or find a different one. I wish I could take on more of their duties (basic household management issues, maybe) so they wouldn't have to worry about that on top of their jobs. I wish I could do more, that I was better, more efficient, more knowledgeable, more capable. I wish I could take care of them.
Sometimes I really feel my age. Most of the time, I feel older than I am. I'm always surprised when I remember, hey, I'm not even twenty-one yet. I'm only twenty? I feel twenty-three at least. But maybe it's good that I'm not, because I hope to be far more capable and accomplished by twenty-three.
Someone I really respect said, about his parents, "我会努力让你们过的幸福开心,你们的幸福是我在心里最大的安慰,希望老爸,老妈身体健康,儿子永远我爱你们." (I'll work hard so you can live happily; your happiness is my heart's greatest comfort. I hope Mom and Dad will stay healthy; your son will always love you.)
I want to want that. I want to stop feeling so selfish about my own wants. This trip to China and Korea--I want it so badly, but it's causing my parents an untold amount of stress and worry. And I'm so sorry. But I want to go, and I want them to trust me to go; but more than that, I want them to be happy for me. I want them to stop being so anxious. (But they're parents, worrying is what they do.)
They've done so much for me. I wish I could do something in return.
I don't dismiss what I've achieved as unimportant, but all of it really fades into the background when it comes to what I could be doing, should be doing, could've/should've/would've done instead. Take for instance this summer: I should've put more work into finding something to do after I come back from China and Korea. I tentatively have an option open at a restaurant, but it's not a guarantee. Why didn't I look for an internship instead? Why didn't I plan ahead for something sound and of worth, volunteer work, even? I don't take the initiative often enough.
I know my parents are proud of me, but they see better than anyone my faults and shortcomings, and they let me know-- They do it when they're irritable and stressed, which means that their guard is down and this is how they feel at the moment (that I'm not enough), but it also means that they don't always feel this way (which is some sort of comfort).
It does hurt; of course it does. I don't think anyone's opinions of me matter quite as much as my parents'. That doesn't mean I'll let their opinions of me shape my entire life or my beliefs, because I know I live a different life than they do, and I know they're wrong at times, but their opininos certainly do make an impact and carry weight.
It does hurt when they tell me I'm not good enough, but considering the rest of tonight, I'd rather they be upset with me than with each other. Because I at least know that they love me anyway, that they're only worried about me, wanting the best for me.
I hate it when they're upset with each other. I hate it when they're so tired, so sick, so stressed, that they snap at each other over every little thing. I hate that my mom hates her job, because there's so much pressure, and I hate that my dad feels the same way about his job, constantly struggling to prove himself to his superiors and support the family. I hate that my parents don't communicate well with each other, I hate that they don't understand why the other one is legitimately upset. I hate that they're both sick right now and that neither of their health is that good.
I hate that my parents are unhappy so much, or at all, and I hate that they're getting old.
I hate that I don't know what to do about it. I wish I could support the family financially and my mom could quit her job or find a different one. I wish I could take on more of their duties (basic household management issues, maybe) so they wouldn't have to worry about that on top of their jobs. I wish I could do more, that I was better, more efficient, more knowledgeable, more capable. I wish I could take care of them.
Sometimes I really feel my age. Most of the time, I feel older than I am. I'm always surprised when I remember, hey, I'm not even twenty-one yet. I'm only twenty? I feel twenty-three at least. But maybe it's good that I'm not, because I hope to be far more capable and accomplished by twenty-three.
Someone I really respect said, about his parents, "我会努力让你们过的幸福开心,你们的幸福是我在心里最大的安慰,希望老爸,老妈身体健康,儿子永远我爱你们." (I'll work hard so you can live happily; your happiness is my heart's greatest comfort. I hope Mom and Dad will stay healthy; your son will always love you.)
I want to want that. I want to stop feeling so selfish about my own wants. This trip to China and Korea--I want it so badly, but it's causing my parents an untold amount of stress and worry. And I'm so sorry. But I want to go, and I want them to trust me to go; but more than that, I want them to be happy for me. I want them to stop being so anxious. (But they're parents, worrying is what they do.)
They've done so much for me. I wish I could do something in return.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
two sides of the sun
In class today, my English professor eloquently described our campus as having "lawns that have sprouted people". With the nice weather, people have emerged out of nowhere onto our quad, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of two or five. They lie out under the sun, baring arms and legs (and sometimes backs) to the warm golden rays, diverting themselves with laughter and talk. I walk past them, those bright spots of color--red, blue, yellow, white--against the green grass, and I think how different are my cultures. (Then I take a moment to dwell on what I call "mine", but I think I can justify this to myself, or save it for another time.)
What do I mean?
I walk through the quad, weaving past people in t-shirts and shorts, and think about how different this scene would be China. Putting aside the fact that there are few areas of unspoiled lawn (even in parks), the people in China are not nearly so welcoming of the sun. Women and men alike don hats and hold intricately designed umbrellas (parasols?) to ward off the heavy, cancerous rays. They shy away from the light and the suffocating heat, exactly opposite of the people strewn across my campus, who turn their faces up in welcome to the sky.
Girls in China* are always dressed with effort: every eye not their own is part of the audience they display their style to, on the streets and in the malls and throughout the city. Even their casual clothes involve intricte outfits and designs on their shirts and on their jeans. The sneakers are also trendy, and those are only worn when they're not tripping through crowds in platform sandals or strappy heels. Over their heads, these girls wave pretty umbrellas (that sport flowers or lace or both) that match their outfits, shading them from the sun as they walk down the street.
(Wearing my solid-colored top and simple, undecorated jeans--so everyday and basic in the States--made me self-conscious in China, because I felt so very plain. And my borrowed lavendar-tinted umbrella unfortunately clashed with my green-and-blue clothes. I felt un-Asian, a failure in my own culture.)
So different are these cultures, I think as I walk across my campus. (Are they both mine?) Which do I prefer?
*disclaimer: in urban China, not rural; in comparisons that can be drawn to CH or universities in general
What do I mean?
I walk through the quad, weaving past people in t-shirts and shorts, and think about how different this scene would be China. Putting aside the fact that there are few areas of unspoiled lawn (even in parks), the people in China are not nearly so welcoming of the sun. Women and men alike don hats and hold intricately designed umbrellas (parasols?) to ward off the heavy, cancerous rays. They shy away from the light and the suffocating heat, exactly opposite of the people strewn across my campus, who turn their faces up in welcome to the sky.
Girls in China* are always dressed with effort: every eye not their own is part of the audience they display their style to, on the streets and in the malls and throughout the city. Even their casual clothes involve intricte outfits and designs on their shirts and on their jeans. The sneakers are also trendy, and those are only worn when they're not tripping through crowds in platform sandals or strappy heels. Over their heads, these girls wave pretty umbrellas (that sport flowers or lace or both) that match their outfits, shading them from the sun as they walk down the street.
(Wearing my solid-colored top and simple, undecorated jeans--so everyday and basic in the States--made me self-conscious in China, because I felt so very plain. And my borrowed lavendar-tinted umbrella unfortunately clashed with my green-and-blue clothes. I felt un-Asian, a failure in my own culture.)
So different are these cultures, I think as I walk across my campus. (Are they both mine?) Which do I prefer?
*disclaimer: in urban China, not rural; in comparisons that can be drawn to CH or universities in general
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
building a social hierarchy
I was studying for my Geography midterm tomorrow today. In the East Asia chapter of my book, I read about China, Japan, and Korea and their various economic, cultural, and social constructs. As I was reading, I thought about Japan's senpai-kouhai system, Korea's sunbae-dongsaeng system, and then wondered why China didn't have something like that.
This whole idea--it's probably a cultural thing, structured by an Asian society and way of thinking, and I understand that. What makes me marvel is how I've been influenced by this culture even an entire ocean and continent away, because I want that kind of social hierarchy structure. I want to be someone's 姐姐, someone's お姉さん, someone's 언니 or 누나. I want to be someone's 先輩 or 선배. Furthermore, I also want to be someone's 妹妹 or 後輩, 동생.
Is it unnatural? Shouldn't we stress equality for all? It certainly seems to be the Western viewpoint, especially in the United States, but I don't see how supporting a lowerclassman-upperclassman, junior-senior hierarchical system contradicts the belief of equality. Truth be told, people are not equal: we are too different, and our age and experiences and personalities set us apart from each other. We may be equal in that no one of us is worth more or less than any other of us, but we are not equal in regards to experience. That is why we do accord respect to "those who came before", to our seniors. That is why I think this social construct is not necessarily a bad thing--not scandalous or outrageous or oppressive or demeaning. It might even be beneficial.
And I want it. I want that kind of system of support and encouragement, of mentoring and advice, of respect and submission. I want this kind of structure in my life, where I know exactly where I fit in, exactly where I stand in my relationships with other people, especially those I don't know well (since, obviously, family and friendship transcend this basic hierarchy).
I wonder what someone thoroughly Western would think of this opinion. I've shared these thoughts with people before (V and A, off the top of my head, but I'm sure there are others), but they were all Asian. They were both familiar with the type of relationship structure I was talking about and in general agreement with my opinion. I really do think it's an Asian mindset, the result of cultural influence. Am I wrong? Am I strange for wanting this?
This whole idea--it's probably a cultural thing, structured by an Asian society and way of thinking, and I understand that. What makes me marvel is how I've been influenced by this culture even an entire ocean and continent away, because I want that kind of social hierarchy structure. I want to be someone's 姐姐, someone's お姉さん, someone's 언니 or 누나. I want to be someone's 先輩 or 선배. Furthermore, I also want to be someone's 妹妹 or 後輩, 동생.
Is it unnatural? Shouldn't we stress equality for all? It certainly seems to be the Western viewpoint, especially in the United States, but I don't see how supporting a lowerclassman-upperclassman, junior-senior hierarchical system contradicts the belief of equality. Truth be told, people are not equal: we are too different, and our age and experiences and personalities set us apart from each other. We may be equal in that no one of us is worth more or less than any other of us, but we are not equal in regards to experience. That is why we do accord respect to "those who came before", to our seniors. That is why I think this social construct is not necessarily a bad thing--not scandalous or outrageous or oppressive or demeaning. It might even be beneficial.
And I want it. I want that kind of system of support and encouragement, of mentoring and advice, of respect and submission. I want this kind of structure in my life, where I know exactly where I fit in, exactly where I stand in my relationships with other people, especially those I don't know well (since, obviously, family and friendship transcend this basic hierarchy).
I wonder what someone thoroughly Western would think of this opinion. I've shared these thoughts with people before (V and A, off the top of my head, but I'm sure there are others), but they were all Asian. They were both familiar with the type of relationship structure I was talking about and in general agreement with my opinion. I really do think it's an Asian mindset, the result of cultural influence. Am I wrong? Am I strange for wanting this?
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
the different definitions of filial care
I have two songs about mothers: one titled "妈妈 (Mama)" by Vanness Wu and the other "听妈妈的话 (Listen to Mama's Words)" by Jay Chou. In the first song, Vanness thanks his mother for working so hard, for having done so much for him, for the family, because raising him was not an easy task. It's about how he's grown up now, how he's finally realized how much work his mother has done, and he's telling her that it's okay, she can rest now, because he will take care of the family. The second song is Jay's advice to little children, telling them that they should listen to their moms because they'll understand later on, when they're grown up: they'll know why they run faster and fly higher than the other kids. Looking back, they'll cherish everything about their mother. He tells the little kids to listen to their mom and grow up fast so they can protect her.
Both of these songs have made me tear up. There's nothing more I've wanted since college to be able to take care of my parents. What they say about growing up and realizing how much your parents have done for you--it's true. It makes me grateful and regretful at the same time, because I feel like I could have, should have done so much better. I'd love to relive middle school or even high school, redo those years knowing what I know now. (But isn't hindsight always 20/20?)
I realized, while fixating on my own determination not to disappoint my parents, the different ideas of "care". V takes care of her family by being with them, by sharing their emotional pain, by physically taking care of them by cooking or helping with their workload or just with her presence alone. P is the same way. She takes care of her parents by shouldering more of their burden so they have a lighter load. She is on call for them, any time, because she prioritizes them above everything. It's incredibly touching to see.
When I encounter cases like that, I wonder if I shouldn't be more like them. I want to be there for my family, whether physically or emotionally. I want to be able to take care of them like that; it's an especially important duty as I grow older, and so do my parents. (I hate the reminders that they're human and that they age. It really terrifies me sometimes. But that's for another time.) But, in practice, my family doesn't work that way. Our system of care is an altered form of protection: I don't want you to worry about me, because it will add to your stress, so I will carry my own burdens and fix my own problems.
I don't tell my parents about the details of my life, like some of my friends do. I know most people aren't sharing every detail--"I went out partying last night, Mom, and got hit on by a creepy forty-year-old!"--with their parents, but mine know even less. They probably don't know what classes I'm taking next semester. I don't tell them when I stress out about my grades, about law school applications, about work or the sorority. Why? Because I don't want to worry them. They have enough going on as it is. The same is true in return. I don't know the day-to-day happenings of my family. I don't know when they're worried about the little things, like one of my brother's classes, or the big things, like family problems in China. Sometimes it hurts to find out after the fact, because I wanted to be there for them when they needed me--but they don't tell me these things to protect me; there's no need for me to worry about it when I can't do anything, when I should be focusing on my academics, they say.
The reason this system works is because of trust. My parents trust me to be responsible for my own life now: they trust me to choose my own classes, that they won't be frivolous but will fulfill major requirements; they trust me to take care of myself, to eat and sleep and wear a coat as needed; they trust me to do my best. It makes me want even more to never disappoint them, because this trust was not easily won--nor, I sometimes feel, entirely deserved. But I try, and I hope that one day, they will have every reason to boast to all their friends about me, because I graduated early, because I entered a prestigious law school, because I secured a well-paying job and was successful and happy and capable of taking care of them. I want to give them bragging rights to make up for a high school career that was not shoddy by any means (I'm not entirely out of touch with reality; a 1510 + 800 SAT score is at least one thing they can talk about, even if it really ends up having little relevance on the rest of my life), but was not nearly as spectacular as it could have (should have) been.
I take care of my parents by making sure they never have to worry about me, and making sure they can be proud of me, and making sure I can take care of them financially in the future.
Sometimes, though, I still want to take care of them physically and emotionally too. Let me be there.
Both of these songs have made me tear up. There's nothing more I've wanted since college to be able to take care of my parents. What they say about growing up and realizing how much your parents have done for you--it's true. It makes me grateful and regretful at the same time, because I feel like I could have, should have done so much better. I'd love to relive middle school or even high school, redo those years knowing what I know now. (But isn't hindsight always 20/20?)
I realized, while fixating on my own determination not to disappoint my parents, the different ideas of "care". V takes care of her family by being with them, by sharing their emotional pain, by physically taking care of them by cooking or helping with their workload or just with her presence alone. P is the same way. She takes care of her parents by shouldering more of their burden so they have a lighter load. She is on call for them, any time, because she prioritizes them above everything. It's incredibly touching to see.
When I encounter cases like that, I wonder if I shouldn't be more like them. I want to be there for my family, whether physically or emotionally. I want to be able to take care of them like that; it's an especially important duty as I grow older, and so do my parents. (I hate the reminders that they're human and that they age. It really terrifies me sometimes. But that's for another time.) But, in practice, my family doesn't work that way. Our system of care is an altered form of protection: I don't want you to worry about me, because it will add to your stress, so I will carry my own burdens and fix my own problems.
I don't tell my parents about the details of my life, like some of my friends do. I know most people aren't sharing every detail--"I went out partying last night, Mom, and got hit on by a creepy forty-year-old!"--with their parents, but mine know even less. They probably don't know what classes I'm taking next semester. I don't tell them when I stress out about my grades, about law school applications, about work or the sorority. Why? Because I don't want to worry them. They have enough going on as it is. The same is true in return. I don't know the day-to-day happenings of my family. I don't know when they're worried about the little things, like one of my brother's classes, or the big things, like family problems in China. Sometimes it hurts to find out after the fact, because I wanted to be there for them when they needed me--but they don't tell me these things to protect me; there's no need for me to worry about it when I can't do anything, when I should be focusing on my academics, they say.
The reason this system works is because of trust. My parents trust me to be responsible for my own life now: they trust me to choose my own classes, that they won't be frivolous but will fulfill major requirements; they trust me to take care of myself, to eat and sleep and wear a coat as needed; they trust me to do my best. It makes me want even more to never disappoint them, because this trust was not easily won--nor, I sometimes feel, entirely deserved. But I try, and I hope that one day, they will have every reason to boast to all their friends about me, because I graduated early, because I entered a prestigious law school, because I secured a well-paying job and was successful and happy and capable of taking care of them. I want to give them bragging rights to make up for a high school career that was not shoddy by any means (I'm not entirely out of touch with reality; a 1510 + 800 SAT score is at least one thing they can talk about, even if it really ends up having little relevance on the rest of my life), but was not nearly as spectacular as it could have (should have) been.
I take care of my parents by making sure they never have to worry about me, and making sure they can be proud of me, and making sure I can take care of them financially in the future.
Sometimes, though, I still want to take care of them physically and emotionally too. Let me be there.
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