Move and Be Moved

As soon as my left feet stepped into the front door of my house, my little sister greeted me with, “Did you hear? Michael Jackson died!”

A little appalled, when only hours earlier, I had read about Farah Fawcett passing away. I am not the least bit surprised at the regular suspects on my facebook’s news feed, all feeling something for a man. This particular man.

To many kids and teenagers growing up in North America, Michael Jackson was a regular household name, his music regularly broadcasted but never failed to lose its appeal. To me, growing up in Pakistan, my early exposure to music was of Mandarin or Pakistani descent. One of my very first exposures to English music was Michael Jackson’s “Heal the world”, even if I “knew” that he had bleached his skin.

To a mere 8 year old girl living in a country torn by poverty and war, the lyrics had moved a syllable in my nerve, even though I never fully understood what it meant. In my very first mp3 player, given by a few friends, one of the songs I had to hear was “Heal the world”. I could listen to the song on repeat and still be moved. There is so much hope, so much want in those words to strive for love in our human race.

Still, I can’t help but wonder and look at his death critically.

His music and dance has affected so many people that they are very willing to look past the allegations of his pedophilic nature, his very out-of-norm personality. The man really does not fit well with the general norm of the society, but he has brought so many people together, inspired them and moved them. That is a lot of forgiveness and a lot of acceptance for a man whose art lets us move and be moved.

A lot of the commentaries out there have it absolutely right in celebrating his life, instead of grieving and mourning in our loss.

Michael Jackson, may you celebrate with us, knowing that we will remember you, just as you are, never plain and always entertaining.

One love to another

Dear One,

After tonight, I’ll be leaving for Auckland. Please forgive me for saying goodbye like this. I just wanted you to know that after all these years; your friendship meant the world to me. This perfect day with you was a tribute to us, to our never wavering hope of strength that took us here. You held my hand for all the red and blue marks of my life. I take and give no apology for the hurt exchanged between us because I know it made us for better people, better friends.

I love you like it would make me soar and make me fly higher each time. You freed me from all the pain I once felt about romance. I hope you understand we can’t be together because I believe love only binds people and turns into resentment from all the lost freedom. Call me selfish but I only want to savor the best part of you.

After all these years, I grabbed onto my emotions so I can finally write this letter to you. I grabbed onto your interpretation and your impressions of me so I could remember them for us. Actions may speak louder than words but for once, I wanted the words to speak louder, to be a better translation between us. I wanted you to reminisce, 10 years down the road, that you loved me well, your love carried me to many places and will continue for the rest of my life.

Forever yours and always,
True Love

His knees gave way and the letter slipped from his hand. I can’t believe you said goodbye first.

Paris

I want to relive the following experiences:
- getting lost because for some reason, I love that. It creates a sense of adventure, I suppose
- feeling creative most of the time. Such an artsy city.
- setting foot in a place that has so much history, so much character, so much details
- sit in that really nice cafe, with the sun shining in my face, while I write my postcards with a cup of cappuccino well within my reach
- that surreal feeling I had when I was on Pont des Art, overlooking the Seine River.

I don't find the city the least bit pretentious, or that the people are rude etc. There's an animosity to the city that I really like.

I'm afraid that a 7 day trip will still not be enough.

Two halves of a whole

I suppose it was a long time coming and I had held out hopes for a long time, arguably too long. It's time for a lot of things: realizing that keeping the family together is rather cumbersome. Realizing that nothing is ever normal. Realizing that once a heart breaks, anything that comes in the attempt of piecing it together would be deemed as resentment. Realizing that the steps to signing that paper is probably the easiest part of this whole journey. Realizing that the only comparison of love I ever had will amount to two signatures on that piece of paper, signifying the complete opposite. Realizing that as a child, as an adult, as a loved one, that there is nothing I can do about it. It is just not within my control nor can I make it better for all of us. The pain of witnessing this whole thing coming down is just as bad as the two people who are going to decide this.

It's really easy for the third party to say, "Let it go, Jenn. You should be supportive instead because they're your parents." But when you see them playing for the attention of their own kids, vying for their affection; you know, this is only the beginning of another ending that slipped away in resentment, in unspoken feelings and in harsh words.

Thank YOU for trying to give me the rational perspective.
Thank YOU for being the first one.
Thank YOU for trying to reassure me.

It's not that you three didn't help, it's just that I feel incredibly sad at how life played out for 7 people.

The Irony of Political Correctness

Some of the guidelines behind the idea of being politically correct is ironically, still offensive. Terms like homophobic, socially challenged, cosmetically different, least best, differently sized etc., still have some sort of negative connotation, despite its best efforts to masquerade the level of offensiveness.

It seems like in today’s world, any chances of offending someone is deemed to be politically incorrect, the subject of the cause of political incorrect phrase deemed to be blamable and the subject of the political incorrect phrase (or the receiving party) almost pitiable.

On a grander picture, there is this ostensible fear: fear of truth, the truth that may deprive the esteem of someone. Indirectly, it violates the principle of honesty being the best policy. How much of the alternate phrases that are being phased out into our media is politically correct, is a better disguise? The alternate phrases are objectively and arguably, politically incorrect in itself.

Homophobic: why should anyone be labeled homo in the first place? To first, objectify the difference, then categorize them as fear-related seems to be an implicit violation of human rights.

Socially challenged: instead of embracing the uniqueness and differences of people who can contribute to the social culture, we embark on their differences as a challenge of the standard, like it is some sort of a negative connotation.

Cosmetically different: I believe this to be a subjective viewpoint, and to vocalize or note something like that in an objective article, defeats the purpose of the supposedly objective and fundamental arguments.

Least best: implicit criticism of not being good enough.

Differently sized: Again, subjective. Implicitly implying that there should be a norm for size, and the receiving party of the term should or should not conform to the norm.

As a society, we are so readily labeling anybody who is different from us, quick to judge, quick to differentiate that it has become innate in us to speak and articulate the differences, and then call it the freedom of speech. Frankly, even as I am writing this as objectively as I can, I too, often make the mistake of being politically incorrect, quite repeatedly.

In the end, political correctness is really just a roundabout of obscurity stemmed from fear without much alternate solution.

The little bout of happiness

There's nothing more in the world I want than for those I hold dear and near to my heart, to be happy.

The general advice is that happiness is what you make of it. The key is to look for the silver lining, to not let other sources of negativity get into you. The likelihood of the opposing argument is you can't get happiness if you have all sorts of negative distractions that disturbs your center, that when life gives you plenty of lemons, you make lemonade and you end up being unhappy with the result.

I stand for none of that right now, though at different parts of my life, I've stood on both of those grounds.

I think happiness stems from experiences. If you have had mostly negative experiences, it is harder to attain happiness. Likewise, if you have had mostly positive experiences in life, your chances of happiness improves.

In taking into account for the individuals who have had mostly positive experiences, but still is not happy; or mostly negative experiences but still is happy: I pose the following argument.

Ultimately, happiness is learning from those experiences, and altering them in such a way that you can either look past the pain, and find the point where you can emotionally remove yourself to go back to that center. Or, you can remember the positive experiences and go back to it again and again, to feel that emotion, to take you back to the center.

Attitude

You kill people with kindness, hoping to create an alternative to the hostile environment; instead, it turns around to be an expectation. The surprise element is no more, and you either have to top-up your level of kindness or you kill the idea of kindness altogether. In my case, I pick and choose, because the virtue of patience has been thinned out and pretty much depleted like the ozone layer.

Candy day today at work and the following were my fortunes in my Perugia chocolates:

An ideal husband is unmarried. – [Yes, I’m likely to steal people’s husband and make ‘em mine. I know this sounds so wrong but there’s something appealing about a man who’s taken. I suppose it’s like this: if he’s someone treasure, then my savageness tempts and prompts me to steal. Fortunately, I have been on the other side so my logical side will calm my temptation. Haha, as soon as I finished the above thought, I realized I should add a very important disclaimer: not all men who are taken because I often ponder about their "good" qualities ]

Real friendships can be enjoyed in silence. – [If only this were true…haha…obviously this does not hold true for one of my very close friend. I’ve complained quite often that I want some peace in the car or on the trip.]

Loving a person right vs. Loving a right person

In the past year, I’ve given the above a lot of thought. Neither of which I have done successfully in the past. However, I’m attempting to do that now. It’s a start. I’ve learned that to love someone, it doesn’t mean you have to be with him almost all the time. To love someone, you can silently wish him well. You could sit beside him and not have to tell him how you feel. You could just give and not ask for anything in return. You could just listen to his life story, be inspired, acknowledge his faults and love him nonetheless. It really can be silently expressed.

In that coffee shop, I once told my best friend that I’m unable to love someone so innocently again, to just give without asking for anything in return. He said that it’s really sad. I said it’s realistic. It’s funny, for the rather emotional me, I’m always weighing the pros and cons when it comes to romantic relationships.

But I was wrong again. There was a special him that I’ve been loving the right way, even though we’re far from right for each other. The moment passes, but the feelings that lingered, I believe, made me relearn.

The guy on GO train

Every morning, I get on a specific cart of the GO train. For about two months now, there's this smiley guy who looks familiar to me. I'm not the only one staring haha because I can tell he's doing the same thing. Well, yesterday while waiting for the delayed train, he was saying "so busy" in Hakka to another guy who used to go to our restaurant. So I realized that I've met this guy when I was a teenager. It's kinda cool that I've seen quite a few of our old Hakka customers on the GO train. Even more cool that they recognize me and say hello. I used to know at least their last names but I've forgotten most of them by now. Sometimes I miss working at the restaurant. Anyways, one of these days when I muster up the courage, I'll start with a friendly hello.

Handle With Care

It's Sunday. I woke up early, read, cleaned, brewed my mid-day coffee and it's now my casual writing time.

I can't thank Eric enough for giving me Jodi Picoult's newest book, Handle With Care as a gift. The book was riveting, emotional, page-turner, and very informative. A lot of the perspectives in the book are something my family and I have certainly trod on and explored in the past. Willow's Type III Osteogenesis Imperfecta is nowhere near as drastic as Muscular Dystrophy - FSH. Amelia's emotional troubles are nowhere close to my personal struggles as a sister who witnesses physical, spiritual, emotional pain day in and day out. Charlotte and Sean remind me that there is no visibly bright black and white line for wrongful birth, abortion, and love. Charlotte and Piper's relationship is a reminder that anything can come in between of the best of friendship.

Despite all of those issues and some, does it mean we should stop living, put up a great wall and distance ourselves just because we've been disappointed? I used to be the kind of person who receives pain, and visit the pain until I grow immune to it. It's probably partly why some people around me think I'm forgiving. Nowadays, I inflict pain, or I turn my back on those painful familial relationships, romantic relationships or friendships not because I'm no longer brave, but because I've given up. I've given up on trying to get people to see the positive side and somewhere along the lines, I've given up on being optimistic myself. I've given up on people who don't try and meet me halfway. On a larger extent, I've forgotten that they too have a lot of struggles and choices to make. I've basically put up a white flag and didn't even call it a truce; instead, I've just walked away and told myself that the other party and I just don't click, will just not get along.

Basically, all the grey areas of my life, I've divided them into a black and white issue. It clears up the doubts and the questions in the attempt to rationalize the kind of person I am, the kind of person I want to be and the kind of people I want to keep in my life. Mark calls this my bitchy side, which is not a negative thing at all. I just think it's time to go about things differently than before, and I really don't care about what they think, or how they want to treat it. The way I see it, I'm not pushing people out of my life, I'm only making it clear that this is what I want. They can either stay in or stay out, it's really a very simple choice, much like I can stay in or stay out of their lives. For so long, I've catered to what they want, to go about things their way, that it's just time to change things around. The way I've handled things before, it was my choice before, just as it's my choice today to make the other choice.

Albert Einstein once said, "Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile." I'd rebut that and argue that a life lived for solely others is a life less worthwhile. The brittleness of human bond is just that, it doesn't matter how much you protect it, how much padding you put around it; it only matters to how much you want to accept it and take it for whatever value it's worth today.

The following are some quotes from the book that I felt were very articulate of human bond:

“I think you can love a person too much. You put someone on a pedestal, and all of a sudden, from that perspective, you notice what’s wrong – a hair out of place, a run in a stocking, a broken bone. You spend all your time and energy making it right, and all the while, you are falling apart yourself. You don’t even realize what you look like, how far you’ve deteriorated, because you only have eyes for someone else.”

“Maybe you expected marriage to be perfect – I guess that’s where you and I are different. See, I thought it would be all about making mistakes, but doing it with someone who’s there to remind you what you learned along the way. And I think we were both wrong about something. People always say that, when you love someone, nothing in the world matters. But that’s not true, is it? You know, and I know, that when you love someone, everything in the world matters a little bit more.”

“Besides the obvious difference, there was not much distinction between losing a best friend and losing a lover: it was all about intimacy. One moment, you had someone to share your biggest triumphs and fatal flaws with; the next minute, you had to keep them bottled inside. One moment, you’d start to call her to tell her a snippet of news or to vent about your awful day before realizing you did not have that right anymore; the next, you could not remember the digits of her phone number. “

“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.”

“But love wasn’t about sacrifice, and it wasn’t about falling short of someone’s expectations. By definition, love made you better than good enough; it redefined perfection to include your traits, instead of excluding them.”

“When you think you’re right, you are most likely wrong.”

“Things that break – be they bones, hearts or promises – can be put back together but will never really be whole.”

“You can miss a person you’ve never known.”