It bothers me so much one of my grandma's most commonly used saying when addressing her daughters, till this day, is "I should have suffocated her with the placenta."
yeah grandma, because boys are just that much better because they have a penis and can carry the family name.
My own brother even changed his name so he wouldn't have a Chinese name.
family name my ass.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Graduation of an International Student
One of the things I witness and really feels for are seeing international folks and the not so obvious hardships they deal with. It's so unspoken but I'd like to think it makes us stronger.
The Dude works in academia and has student interns who are usually international students whose visas can only allow them to work within the same educational institution they are attending. This affected some of my friends when i was in college and it sucked ass majorly to see my friends go home after a year after graduation because their visas ran out when their student visas ran out and companies have preference on hiring Americans.
Not blaming the companies, just a general fact.
One of the Dude's PhD interns is graduating with an amazing super genius degree from a top private school in US, and his family will not be able to attend his graduation, just like dad, with his many trainings here in the US when we lived in Taiwan.
Mom thought uprooting bro and me constantly would be a bad decision on our education and frankly, traveling with two little kids internationally would have been really insanely expensive on dad's military pay.
What we know of dad's education here, we learned from his faded photographs with the rounded corners, stories we'd hear from his friends later on when we'd all meet up in DC thanks to DC being a draw for diplomats and major military brainpowers and yearbooks, for we were never there for his graduations like he was not there for my birth.
The intern's family won't be able to make it because of visa/money reasons and he shrugs it off because that is just the life of an international student from a non first world country.
It breaks my heart because in one hand I'm so Americanized that I put a lot of sentimentality into major life events like graduation/prom/weddings but on the other I understand it's nothing to dwell on, you just keep going in life.
He did ask the Dude and I to attend his graduation so he can have someone to give the tickets to.
Fuck yes, I'll be there with my zoomin' camera and flowers for the kid. Not just everyone can graduate with a very specialized engineering PhD degree and NOT have that documented like you're a rockstar.
The Dude works in academia and has student interns who are usually international students whose visas can only allow them to work within the same educational institution they are attending. This affected some of my friends when i was in college and it sucked ass majorly to see my friends go home after a year after graduation because their visas ran out when their student visas ran out and companies have preference on hiring Americans.
Not blaming the companies, just a general fact.
One of the Dude's PhD interns is graduating with an amazing super genius degree from a top private school in US, and his family will not be able to attend his graduation, just like dad, with his many trainings here in the US when we lived in Taiwan.
Mom thought uprooting bro and me constantly would be a bad decision on our education and frankly, traveling with two little kids internationally would have been really insanely expensive on dad's military pay.
What we know of dad's education here, we learned from his faded photographs with the rounded corners, stories we'd hear from his friends later on when we'd all meet up in DC thanks to DC being a draw for diplomats and major military brainpowers and yearbooks, for we were never there for his graduations like he was not there for my birth.
The intern's family won't be able to make it because of visa/money reasons and he shrugs it off because that is just the life of an international student from a non first world country.
It breaks my heart because in one hand I'm so Americanized that I put a lot of sentimentality into major life events like graduation/prom/weddings but on the other I understand it's nothing to dwell on, you just keep going in life.
He did ask the Dude and I to attend his graduation so he can have someone to give the tickets to.
Fuck yes, I'll be there with my zoomin' camera and flowers for the kid. Not just everyone can graduate with a very specialized engineering PhD degree and NOT have that documented like you're a rockstar.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Apples' cold curing powers
Mom came down with a cold today which reminded me I had to keep writing here because of anecdotes like the following.
Back when Taiwan got liberated from the Japanese, the Taiwanese were living in very poor conditions. Apples were treats for very special occasions...and to think I'm so picky with types of apples I'd eat, Washington mealy apples were considered OMG amazing.
When the kids would get sick, my grand parents would ask them what they would want for a treat. My mom and her siblings always asked for an apple when they were sick. The one special apple they could eat alone, not sharing with the other five siblings.
I guess the theory of apple's magical powers is still around. Mom took her cold meds and then ate her gala, even though we rarely eat apples now. They just seemed like such a plain fruit compared to pomegranates, kiwis, cactus pears etc.
She peeled it even in the old school way, with a paring knife, not a peeler.
And she didn't need to share.
Friday, September 25, 2009
grandpa from mom's side
he loved to eat chicken butts, on a stick, from street vendor grills.
he was the carpenter of the family.
he started his apprenticeship between at an age I was still climbing trees. I think he was 7.
luckily for him his mentor took care of him like a son while they traveled all around taiwan working on various projects.
unluckily for him, his mom would only show up when she needed to collect HIS wages.
he was the carpenter of the family.
he started his apprenticeship between at an age I was still climbing trees. I think he was 7.
luckily for him his mentor took care of him like a son while they traveled all around taiwan working on various projects.
unluckily for him, his mom would only show up when she needed to collect HIS wages.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Guilt of an Enabler
For as long as I can comprehend alcoholism, it’s always in the back of my head knowing I am an enabler. Mom has always told me that 1) it’s not my fault and 2) you can’t change the habits of old people. It’s still something I’m very torn about especially knowing that if I had to do it over, I’m not sure I’d do any different, as horrible as that sounds.
My maternal grandfather (Ah-Gong) was a very skilled carpenter. He had most kickass woodworking tools that I only wish I can inherit one day, but I know they are probably just rusting away in the Taiwanese humidity and lack of use. Ah-Gong fell off scaffolding while the kids were still young. He got a permanent hunchback from the fall and always required a walking stick to maneuver around. He never gave up woodworking but he could not get around easily.
He started drinking rice wine (mi jui) to dull the pain from the fall. The rice wine from then is very different from the ones we in grocery stores these days. Now the manufacturers add in salt to prevent people from drinking the cheap cookign alcohols. The rice wine is not really wine at all; it’s more of a grain alcohol that is a lot stronger than the 12% wine today.
A-Gong and Ah-Ma’s house was constantly filled with grandkids since many of the grandkids lived in Taipei, my brother and I included. Since my parents were the only ones who did not procreate beyond two, Ah-Gong and Ah-Ma always had at least one grandkid living with them so the parents can have at least one less kid to worry about. My brother and I always knew we could never compete with the other grandkids to be Ah-Gong or Ah-Ma’s favorite since we didn’t spend as much time with them as the other grandkids, and let’s face it, we are the kids of a DAUGHTER, not a SON.
But still, we tried to help Ah-Gong run errands down the street to pick up some fresh eggs, newspaper, and rice wine. Ah-Gong always rewarded us with five-yen with each run, so we can pick up a corn snack (Guai-Guai) for ourselves as well. From a household without junk food, these corn snacks were what Pixie Sticks were to Ned Flander’s kids. We’d practically fight over who gets to make Ah-Gong’s rice wine. At a time and place kids could buy alcohol that easily, we were able to constantly continue the flow of rice wine at Ah-Gong’s house.
Ah-Gong never did anything that struck me as the alcoholic with the tell tell symptoms. He taught himself to read from newspaper and asking his kids/grand kids to help him identify the characters he didn’t know, he held a small municipal position since he was so well liked in the neighborhood, he didn’t have mood swings, heck, even when he died, it was nothing related to his drinking. He simply drank to dull the pain in his back.
Till this day, when I see Guai-Guai at groceries here, I’m always excited that these cheap snacks are still around and even imported to the states, but the excitement always tinged with a little remorse of knowing that when I a little kid, I got so much joy buying alcohol from Ah-Gong. I wonder if my cousins feel the same way?
Despite how much I joke about enjoying my wine and stouts, I rarely get shit faced and I rarely have more than one drink each sitting. It is always in the back of my head, the danger of using vices to cope runs in my family.
My maternal grandfather (Ah-Gong) was a very skilled carpenter. He had most kickass woodworking tools that I only wish I can inherit one day, but I know they are probably just rusting away in the Taiwanese humidity and lack of use. Ah-Gong fell off scaffolding while the kids were still young. He got a permanent hunchback from the fall and always required a walking stick to maneuver around. He never gave up woodworking but he could not get around easily.
He started drinking rice wine (mi jui) to dull the pain from the fall. The rice wine from then is very different from the ones we in grocery stores these days. Now the manufacturers add in salt to prevent people from drinking the cheap cookign alcohols. The rice wine is not really wine at all; it’s more of a grain alcohol that is a lot stronger than the 12% wine today.
A-Gong and Ah-Ma’s house was constantly filled with grandkids since many of the grandkids lived in Taipei, my brother and I included. Since my parents were the only ones who did not procreate beyond two, Ah-Gong and Ah-Ma always had at least one grandkid living with them so the parents can have at least one less kid to worry about. My brother and I always knew we could never compete with the other grandkids to be Ah-Gong or Ah-Ma’s favorite since we didn’t spend as much time with them as the other grandkids, and let’s face it, we are the kids of a DAUGHTER, not a SON.
But still, we tried to help Ah-Gong run errands down the street to pick up some fresh eggs, newspaper, and rice wine. Ah-Gong always rewarded us with five-yen with each run, so we can pick up a corn snack (Guai-Guai) for ourselves as well. From a household without junk food, these corn snacks were what Pixie Sticks were to Ned Flander’s kids. We’d practically fight over who gets to make Ah-Gong’s rice wine. At a time and place kids could buy alcohol that easily, we were able to constantly continue the flow of rice wine at Ah-Gong’s house.
Ah-Gong never did anything that struck me as the alcoholic with the tell tell symptoms. He taught himself to read from newspaper and asking his kids/grand kids to help him identify the characters he didn’t know, he held a small municipal position since he was so well liked in the neighborhood, he didn’t have mood swings, heck, even when he died, it was nothing related to his drinking. He simply drank to dull the pain in his back.
Till this day, when I see Guai-Guai at groceries here, I’m always excited that these cheap snacks are still around and even imported to the states, but the excitement always tinged with a little remorse of knowing that when I a little kid, I got so much joy buying alcohol from Ah-Gong. I wonder if my cousins feel the same way?
Despite how much I joke about enjoying my wine and stouts, I rarely get shit faced and I rarely have more than one drink each sitting. It is always in the back of my head, the danger of using vices to cope runs in my family.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
mud ovens
ah-ma and ah-gong from dad's side owned a kickass farm in the south. that farm provided endless hours of fun whenever us grand kids got to visit. bro and I were the only two grand kids for so long that we were pretty much the apples in our grandparents eye until their death. dad always showed us the various fun we can have around the farm and he tried to have a mud pit cookout each time we visited the farm.
All of us kids and adults would go around the farm to collect chunks of dried mud, preferably with burn marks, showing it was previously used the year before, having already been baked to contain heat even better. We would stack these mud chunks into a igloo/hive shape stuffed with newspaper. Grandma would clean a chicken and grandpa would pick up sweet potato, eggs and the kids would collect used cans to put the eggs into. Dad would set the newspaper on fire and we'd sit back and watch the fire go out once all the oxygen is gone, and newspaper completely disintegrated. We would then stuff the chicken, sweet potato and cans through the opening and seal the opening when we're done. By nightfall, we would tear down the mud chunks with the food all cooked inside and we'd have an outdoor picnic devouring the food as mosquitoes devour us in the summer heat of Southern Taiwan.
All of us kids and adults would go around the farm to collect chunks of dried mud, preferably with burn marks, showing it was previously used the year before, having already been baked to contain heat even better. We would stack these mud chunks into a igloo/hive shape stuffed with newspaper. Grandma would clean a chicken and grandpa would pick up sweet potato, eggs and the kids would collect used cans to put the eggs into. Dad would set the newspaper on fire and we'd sit back and watch the fire go out once all the oxygen is gone, and newspaper completely disintegrated. We would then stuff the chicken, sweet potato and cans through the opening and seal the opening when we're done. By nightfall, we would tear down the mud chunks with the food all cooked inside and we'd have an outdoor picnic devouring the food as mosquitoes devour us in the summer heat of Southern Taiwan.
finding wealth in knowledge
mom was very close to her youngest brother. even though she worked in factory as she was in college she still managed to find ways to entice her youngest brother to stay in school. she slipped paper money into his text book so he would come across them in his studying. he finished high school, learned a special trade and is now a successful owner of his own manufacturing business.
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