Check-up

Temptation - check
Desire - check
Discipline - double check.....lol I mean check, check.

So far, so good. I am intent on being a good girl this Christmas. Of course, the hard part hasn't arrived yet. Laughs intently at internal jokes.

And now I'm elated - but for an entirely different reason. ^ _ ~

Green

I used to flirt with this weird guy in college. He was on the slim side, which is usually a turn-off for me, but I found him particularly interesting because he displayed interest in me. That and he had a bubbling personality that was hard to ignore.

We met during Freshman Orientation. He was very excited about our program and chosen course path, talking a mile a minute as he tried to get everyone up to his level and insisted we should all hang out as a group. I was rather tired that morning and thus reserved, so he picked on me the most. Fast forward to the first day of instructions, when whom should I see but said guy in my very first class. Not only did he recognize me from 10 rows up, but he also remembered my name. He hollered until I waived back. Fortunately, I was never early to class, so I generally sat in the back and out of sight for the remainder of the term.

After that class, we ran into each other every once in awhile. He always insisted we kick it together, but we never got past the abrupt email exchanges. I didn't see him again until Senior year when we took the same class yet again. He hadn't changed much; same thin guy with large eyes and a somewhat high voice - total turn-off. Not that there is anything wrong with big eyes, but he had a slight staring problem. And when you returned the look, he would blink rapidly and bounce them away. There was just an odd vibe from him. My friends who have met him all agree.

Then I found out that his research quarter was down the hall from mine, so we saw each other even more frequent. We exchanged numbers but didn't get together. Everytime I saw him, he would say, "Let's hang out. I'll call you." But it never happened, and I sure as heck was not going to initiate it. That, and each time this occurred, he was with a different girl. Granted, I was not hot for him, but envy is envy and guys become more attractive when they appear less available. Or maybe it's just me.

Well, finally he did call, and we went out a couple of times but it never ended well. Nary without a little quibble or full out vocal brawl. He felt uncomfortable because I was too quiet. I couldn't help it; my defensive mode kicks in once a date is confirmed. He said he used to be the same and I, recalling Orientation, questioned his sincerity. I was uncomfortable letting him pick up the tabs. But when I offered to go dutch he became offended. In the midst of all this, I mentioned that I was not interested in a relationship at the moment, and he questioned my sexuality.

After college, we didn't stay in touch at all. Thinking back, it wouldn't have worked out. We were too different. He prefering the outdoors and I being a couch potato. He seemed almost completely White-washed whilst I kept my roots submerged. That, plus the lean demeanor, childish voice, and posse of girls. Perhaps it was just a simple meal or drink with a co-worker, friend, or classmate. I wouldn't know. There were no introductions which only sustained my suspicions. I can't help it. The Green-eyed monster is hard to disguise.

But I digress. As it so happened, I bumped into him at dinner last night. Afterwards, he suggested we go for Thai tea. No one else answered, so I said okay, since there was a place down the street. Just as we headed towards the door, this girl steps out of the restroom and said she was ready to go. That was that. Of course, he motioned he would call me. Yeah, try 5 years ago when you actually had my number!


On a side note, he did look slightly less thin. But arm candy is still a definite NO.


On an unrelated note, I finally conquered my fear of snakes. We were out in a green neighborhood and one came at my sister. I found a long stick and was able to pick it up and flick it into a bush before wondering if I should have killed it first, since this was a residential area. It happened all too quickly. The snake was a short, plump, purple and grey. Likely a baby and definitely not a rattler, so unsure if it was even poisonous. Possibly someone's new pet boa?

Trekking

Down memory lane.....

So, I've started listening to old songs from way back again. Haven't really thought about old classmates and friends though, at least not more than a quick where are they now bubble. Think I just wanted to make sure I am still myself. I prefer to move forward, but at the same time, I don't want to shed all my layers completely. I mean, I'd like to think that I'm still the same girl I was a decade ago, albeit a bit less reserved and slightly more fashionable. Nothing wrong with change but it would be weird to wake up one day and realize you're a completely different person than you had been so and so years ago - even if the changes were gradual. Perhaps it's because I've reached another milestone. Perhaps it's because the current world of rock n pop has begun to dwindle again. Or maybe I just miss those old songs, because they still sound darn good.

=x

Let it be known, that:

I will be strong,
I won't be silly,
I will survive,
And walk sans frills.

Marshmallow Fudge

Autumn Dilemma

Ah Fall, the beginning of Primetime Series and Sports Season - a couch potato's dream. Speaking of which, in sports, when a colored flag or card is shown, people take heed. Yellow = foul, red = dismiss. It's particularly unrelenting in Soccer, where a red card not only means out, but no replacement either. Then why is it that in real life, one hesitates amidst the same warnings. On the last count, 4 flags of mine have been raised (3 yellow; 1 red). The yellows, I can handle, but the red should have been a direct sign to steer clear. Perhaps it is because, in spite of the tendency to prefer whole numbers, we still think in fractions. So really, I only see 3+ flags (2 1/2 yellow; 3/4 red). Terrible.

On an unrelated note, I asked for a sign and got one. Yet I'm not thrilled as I imagined I would be. In fact, just thinking about it makes me more sad. There was a flutter of delight when I first realized it, but not like before. Perhaps it was too simple, as I reckoned the flair of the end product would be directly proportional to the length of the wait. Perhaps it was my surrounding and mood. Either way, I refuse to even consider that I have moved on, especially not for a would be fling.

S.A.M.

Who is my Secrect Asian Man you ask? Drum roll: Funny, cuz I wonder as well. Oh! Well, it's partially true. You see, I have a back-up. You know, that person you get along with, whom you wouldn't mind shacking up with for the rest of your half life. Only, come to think about it, I haven't seen or heard from him for ages. College to be exact - the early years. Furthermore, he was more like my One than my other one.

I first met him in Fourth Grade. We went to the same school and per chance, bumped into each other one long, fateful day. He was in love with a new girl whose family had just moved to town. We had a nice heart to heart where I learned pretty much every ounce of detail about him that I could draw out. Those bits of conversation are the only things I can accurately recall from that day. After a good length of time, we decided he should profess his love for her, shook hands and sealed our friendship. Er, well, I think he more or less patted me on the shoulder and said, "Thanks for listening. See ya around kid." Or something to that effect.

Ever so often, I did see him around campus and sometimes on the way home from school. He would smile and wave. And I would wave back, frantically, quite ecstatic that a Junior High student took notice of me. Eventually, I came round to meeting this girl he was still crushing on. She was very charming and friendly as he had introduced me as his Lil Sis. He was preppy and clean-cut, while she sported the trendy spirals of a popular perm. They looked so good together; he handsome, she adorable. It took them awhile to get together, but it was inevitable and for the next couple of years, I both admired and aspired to their level of passionate, innocent love. Then they entered High School and I was left behind, still full of regard for my perfect couple.

One day in Sixth Grade, while wandering off on an especially uncaptivating lecture, I thought about Sam and that long talk on that one afternoon. The more I thought about him, the more I realized that he was the ideal man for me. This was more than a crush. I liked everything about him. The way he looked, the way he dressed, his mannerism, even his flaws. In fact, his flaws made him more desirable - like a hero with conflicted ideals. I admired the commaderie between him and his boys. It was cute that he pined for his girl and beat himself up when he did something that made her angry. I especially adored his passion for academics and community service and how he struggled to juggle them because he could not whole-heartedly devote himself to one without neglecting the other. Even the slight crookedness of his smile was captivating.

It wasn't until Ninth Grade that I finally saw him again. I was devastated to learn that he and Lan were on a break. Her family had moved back to their hometown and the distance was a daunting obstacle - this being the pre-cellular age and all. At the same time, I felt shamefully hopeful that I might have a chance to step into her role. Thus, I was elated when he spotted me at the Spring Fling and asked me to dance with him. And for a long time, that was the only moment I enjoyed dancing with the opposite sex. Shortly after that, he would graduate and leave my bubble, but not before half jokingly proposing to be my back-up. If memory serves me correctly, the conversation went like this: Hey, remember last week on [some show where some character] talked about having a back-up if they don't get married by 30? Well, maybe we can do that. You're not that much younger than me, so if we don't meet anyone in college, then it'll be you and me. How about it? Um, okay. I guess so. Yeah, when we're old, like when we're 30. Smile and nod. How happy was I? I cannot, however, for the life of me remember the show that sparked this idea.

And then it was three long years in high school without him. Threes are much more terrible than twos. But I was optimistic and I held out for him even though I did not have to. Even though I knew he would not have wanted me to. I held on to that vague promise throughout University. I would have sporadic dreams about him, us, which only inflated my hope even more so. And I only saw him once during that entire period.

It was Sophomore year, I think. He remembered where I lived and passed by my parent's house while visiting friends. As luck would have it, I happened to be home that weekend and we took a walk downtown to catch up on the each other's lives. He was taller than I remembered. Much more mature and as handsome as ever. I felt like a kid next to him. That same Elementary School kid looking up at a, now, cool young adult. Of course, he told me that he and Lan were back together again, and I was quite happy for them. They really do make a good couple. I didn't have to curb my disappointment because I was stoked that I got to see him again. It was just a quick chat as we both had plans. We exchanged dorm stories and he gave me some pointers on surviving college. Then we parted and I have been kicking myself for not getting his contact info. I didn't have a cell phone yet, but we certainly could have swapped emails. Nevertheless, I have faith that he will be able to seek me out when he returns. Afterall, my parents still live in the same spot.

But now, I am quickly approaching that magical number and wondering if anything will happen or if I have been a fool for waiting this long. This was, afterall, supposed to be a second thought. A fall back plan gone awry, sucking up a good portion of my time in the process. As a result, I have only half-heartedly flung myself into the dating scene every now and then. Particularly, at moments when the string I'm gripping onto is so thin that it appears invisible. People think it is apathy towards marriage or the male of the species, but in truth, I'm just holding back. Just like when one is out shopping for the latest electronic toy. You want to make sure it's the latest one with all the specs you could possibly want, even if you don't need it, because there is that faint chance you may use it later. I want options but I also do not want to settle.

Heritage vs. Diversity

So I realized that my family is straying more and more away from our Teo Chew roots. When I was little, Chinese was my primary language at home and English was always secondary. Vietnamese was negligible, even though it was my parents' adopted tongue and was constantly used when relatives gathered on the weekends. Like other Teo Chew families in our community (at least I imagine) our food, outlook, and mannerism were steep in Chinese culture, and heavily accented by our TC heritage. Sometimes, we would reach out to our host countries (current and former) by sampling their cuisine and entertainment options in an attempt to show our appreciation for their hospitality. But they would remain foreign entities in our hearts and mind. Even our fellow Cantonese neighbors were set aside for weekend indulgences (except for tv and film since TC ones are virtually non-existence). We were raised the Teo Chew way and set up to maintain and pass on that state of existing.

But that seemed like eons ago. Mom no longer cooks stictly TC food, or even regularly. We still eat Chinese food daily, but gone are the nuances and embelishments that separate them from other Asian households. It is quite sad to realize that my younger siblings will not be able to pick out a TC dish from among dozens of Cantonese ones. English has assumed itself as the dominant tongue with Vietnamese a close second. Darn those Romans and their Alphabets! I feel quite helpless in my futile quest to keep our language alive as I can see my vocabulary crumbling and withering away as I attempt to raise its usage. The social aspect of TC life is not much better either. We attend the Temple and shop at TC owned markets out of habit more so than mere appreciation or enjoyment. We've stop frequenting TC restaurants and shops because we no longer feel the urgency to be loyal and dutiful even though our loyalty is being challenge more so at this moment than a decade ago. Even friends with TC roots are being tossed assunder as we embrace the new and exciting key marks of unfamiliar cultures. I, myself, have tried being more receptive to acquainances who are TC, but novelty wears off once the dust begins to settle.

Somewhere along the way, TC became 'Tentatively Chinese.' Perhaps, it was the separation from the Teo Chew enclave. Perhaps it was the departures of the elderly. Perhaps it was the impact of multiple assimilations and the general apathy of the first generation. Somehow, we allowed ourselves to be engulfed in the melting pot of America and undistinguishable from our fellow Countrymen. We can call ourselves Chinese Americans, but we cannot be truly Teo Chew and American at the same time without losing a piece of each in the compromise. Such is the price for freedom of thought and the flourishment of diversity. Whether this price is large or small, depends stictly on which side of the line we find ourselves on at any given moment.