Bye Bye Baby (Baby Goodbye)

I'm loving these old school songs these days, and Bay City Roller's cover of Frankie Valli and the Four Season's 'Bye Bye Baby (Baby Goodbye)' is terrific.

Well, the son's lyrics aren't that impressive poetically and linguistically. And honestly, kind of a shit move too thinking how the persona is, firstly, in two relationships, and secondly, ditching the second one (which I guess is right, but then I feel bad for the 'baby' here) in this swingy tune. If I was the 'baby' in the song, I'd give the guy a big 'fuck you'.  

But well, let's just appreciate the swing of the tunes. And I can't not think of the scene in Love Actually when Liam Neeson played this song at his wife's wedding. Ugh. 

Here - book by Richard McGuire

So I went to the Strand bookstore in New York during break and I found this book, Here by Richard McGuire. It is one of the most interesting book I've seen, the idea of it is just impeccable and true.

This graphic narrative by Richard McGuire lets readers travel between millenniums and eras and decades through the different transformations of a single corner in a current New Jersey apartment. There's a twist on every page though, is that while the page is fixed on a single time period, there is always a contrast shown in a window of a different time. On a page when the space is set in 50,000 B.C., with trees and animals and dinosaurs, a small window on the page shows the space as an apartment in 1957.

McGuire wittily depict scenes with dinosaurs, European settlers, 50s housewives and husbands, and alike along with each other. Paired with conversations between characters at different time periods, Here chronicles how culture and history evolved, or stayed the same through the years.

I only had the chance to flip through the book and I'm already fascinated by the complexity and meaning that the images convey. I'd love to have the book in my hands, to travel through and between time and era and understand more about history and evolution of mankind.

How I think it goes.

Not much of a clue where this rant is going, and not that I'm at that point of losing, or having lost anyone. Just that perhaps I have reached the point that I've found someone I fear losing. Perhaps that's why, lately, I've had this thought in my head. Isn't it funny how once we've found someone, we could't stand to lose them?

Or put it in another way. See, we are all born alone. Of course, we have our mother, our father, our sisters and brothers, and we are attached to them. We are born with the same blood flowing in our veins. Yes, we will be afraid to lose them. But other than that, we were practically alone. We were perfectly alone. We weren't afraid to lose anything.

A warm handhold at the park, a gentle brush of the lips on the cheek, a breath of strawberry chapstick, a tender curl of hair behind the ear, and everything changes. A stranger has all of a sudden become everything. We believe that we've found the pearl of the ocean and we know we never want to part with it.

All of a sudden, we couldn't be alone. We grew attached and we couldn't stand the thought of losing him or her. W grew to believe that the earth would crack, darkness would descend and the world would end if we ever lose that person (that was once a stranger) who has become so important to us.

And when it's really over, we'll probably find that the world isn't ending. But we wouldn't believe it at first, because we think we've lost everything. And I guess some of us will know in the end that it's not the end of the world. Some will be fine with being alone again. Some will be warmed by other hands and other kisses. But some might never go back to how it was used to be.

And honestly, I don't know how to end this post either. I think all I can say is, I hope I never lose anyone that is important to me, who I get attached to. But at the same time, I'd like to think of myself as the ones that, when the time really comes, know that I was once perfectly fine on my own.

Growth

I spent the first hours of the New Year in tears and quiet sobs. When I was asked on the phone 'how would you describe your 2014 in one word?' I knew it in my heart what it was. But I had no idea when I said the word 'growth' out loud, that I would start crying. The flashbacks and the involuntary tears made me realize that I did not turn out as happy as I wanted myself to be. I did not know why I wasn't as happy, and the realization terrified me.

I cut the call short and tried figuring out what was wrong. As I lay thinking and tearing up in the dark, I realized that I was crying for things I’ve been through, situations I’ve put myself into as I grew in the past year. I know many people have had a worse 2014 than I did. But I had always been a simple girl, living in a greenhouse, living an almost drama-free life. I had always just been myself and this year, I felt that I had lost a bit of myself. I had allowed other people to influence me, mold me, take advantage of me, and change me. I had lost a bit of myself and in return have received learning. 

Do not get me wrong though because I do not regret a single thing that I've done. I will do everything all over again if I had the chance to. I know I wouldn't have gotten to where I am now if not for the past year. I also know that I did not come out of 2014 unhurt and unknowing. Instead, I have emerged from 2014 with my first set of battle scars and a kind of farewell to childhood innocence. There is no going back, this growth. Once we've grown, there's no ungrowing. We can only go one way, like tears rolling down the cheeks, we can only go one way. 

I cried for the parts of me that were sacrificed to receive the learning, to become who I am now. But I am proud of my battle scars, and I understand now that it is necessary. Maybe that is how adult life goes. We lose something and we gain something. We change, we evolve either into new selves or our hidden old selves. I have yet to figure that out. 

Ten things I’ve learnt in 2014 

Not all friendships last forever. Yes, I know that friends drift apart. But sometimes, active falling apart is necessary to protect myself. 

Do not make believe, do not be naive and think that things will unfold as I will them to when I know damn well in my guts that they wouldn’t. Do not let myself be fooled by my desires. I have learnt to trust my guts. 

I have learnt to hide my tears (or I'm still learning). When I'm about to cry, I should take a deep breath, purse my lips together tightly and let the sourness around the nose subside. Exhale gently before talking.

I have learnt what guilt feels like. I know how it feels now,  to wish I could undo things. I understood that I wouldn't be this lucky with mistakes next time and I would be careful not to make the same mistake. 

All things are simply experiences. Time fixes everything. What I had thought were the worst times were only a phase. It does not seem to matter anymore as days grow. They were merely experiences and lessons.

I have learnt to take on parts of others’ problems. I grew to understand that as I grow older, people around me become support systems and I become theirs. I knew that I will have to carry parts of their problems on my shoulders and they would carry mine on theirs. 

Live on my own, grief on my own. I've learnt that taking walks is my thing, it makes me feel better. Sometimes, being alone clears my head and is exactly what I need. It is in those solitary moments that I indulge in my emotions. It is those solitary moments that enable me to pick myself back up. 

I have learnt how being broken feels like. I have faltered into giant puddles of tears. I have learnt to hold my knees to my chest, to curl myself up so that my heart would stay in place, so that I could hold myself together. 

I have learnt how to love. I have learnt what love feels like. Love is warm and bubbly. Love is bitter and sweet. Love is an intense longing. Love is counting down the days. Love is tall, dark and handsome. Love is smart and funny. Love is mature. Love is a silly brat. Love does not warn you to stay away. Love holds you when you're broken. Love tries. Love cares. Love loves. 

I know just like I did with 2014, I wouldn't emerge from 2015 unhurt and pain-free. I would make mistakes that scar me. I would go through a lot more to get the growth I need, the kind of learning that is set out for me. And I wish my 2015 would also be a year of healing.  

Postcards. Sarah Kay.

This is one of my favorite poems from Sarah Kay. It is extremely beautiful, and there is a strong connection between her words and my mind. I don't always understand poems. Sometimes, I'd like to think, or pretend, that I do. But this time, I feel like I understand.

I'd like to know the answers to her questions. I'd want to use those words, words for 'sucker-punching someone in the heart', or for the feeling of 'the flip in your stomach from the fall, before you have even moved'  on a roller coaster, or even, 'the moment you win tug-of-war' 'how even though you've won you still end up with muddy knees and burns on your hands'. I wish our language has words to describe them. I understand all these indescribable emotions and moments, that she is trying to describe. I feel them and I understand.

I've tried. There is indeed only so much you can fit in postcards and messages and space. The distance is never gone. It can perhaps be gone physically, but the distance in the heart? If it's there, it will always be there. I don't want to run out of words once the physical distance is gone. There is no excuse anymore once we are sitting side by side. There is no excuse and no distance and -

Neither one of us

with anything left to say.

My favorite stanza(s) of this poem is:

Practice does not make perfect.

Practice make permanent.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over,

and you don't get any closer to Carnegie Hall.

Even I know that.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over,

and you don't get any closer.

You -

Never get any closer.

Sarah Kay has spoken truth. Come to think of it, practice indeed does not make perfect. So what happens if it's already imperfect in the beginning? You never get any closer. You just never get any closer. Not closer to Carnegie Hall, not closer to postcard promises, not closer to love.

Transcript:

I had already fallen in love with 

far too many postage stamps,

when you appeared on my doorstep,

wearing nothing but a postcard promise.

No. Appear is the wrong word.

Is there a word for sucker-punching

someone in the heart?

Is there a word for when you are sitting

at the bottom of a roller coaster,

and you realize the climb is coming,

that you know what the climb means,

that you can already feel the flip in your

stomach from the fall, before you have

even moved - is there a word for that?

There should be.

You can only fit so many words in a postcard.

Only so many in a phone call.

Only so many into space, before you forget

that words are sometimes used for things

other than filling emptiness.

It is hard to build a body out of words.

I have tried. We have both tried.

Instead of laying your head on my chest,

I tell you about the boy who lives downstairs,

who stays up all night playing his drum set.

The neighbors have complained:

they have busy days tomorrow.

But he keeps on thumping through the night,

convinced, I think that practice makes perfect.

Instead of holding my hand, you tell me about

the sandwich you made for lunch, the way the

pickles fit so perfectly against the lettuce.

Practice does not make perfect.

Practice makes permanent.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over,

and you don't get any closer to Carnegie Hall.

Even I know that.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over,

and you don't get any closer.

You -

never get any closer.

Is there a word for the moment you win

tug-of-war? When the weight gives,

and all that extra rope comes hurtling

towards you, how even though you've won, 

you still end up with muddy knees and 

burns on your hands?

Is there a word for that?

I wish there was.

I would have said it, when we were finally

alone together on your couch, neither one of us

with anything left to say.

Still now, I send letters into space,

hoping that some mailman somewhere

will track you down and recognize you

from the descriptions in my poems;

he will place the stack of them in your hands

and tell you, There is a girl who still writes you.

She doesn't know how not to.

Free People: A Letter

Free People's short films have never failed me. In this recent one, A Letter, it the story of a girl, Sarah, played by Drew Hemingway, following her mother's journal to a time capsule which holds treasures close to heart. During the short, she reads out a letter her mother wrote her, an extremely touching letter full of tenderness and encouragements about life, It is a personal journey, a journey of self-discovery and meaning, that Sarah embarks on with her love.  

The short also did not fail to serve its purpose, that is to advertise Free People's October collection. Throughout the short, viewers get glimpses of fall sweaters and hats, and Free People's amazing jewelry. 

Free People expresses that this letter 'weaves a story that will ultimately connect the mother and daughter across time'. I can only hope for a sequel of this short to come next month.  

I cry for my city.

I was never the political activist and nor have I ever been one to know or care about politics. I was taught since I was small that politics is dirty. And what is happening now in my hometown has just proven so.

From the tear gas on Sept. 28, to now, I really couldn't believe my eyes. Triad members and pro-chinese activists attacking peaceful students and protestors. Police' leniency on them and their arrest of injured pro-democracy protestors. 

The police force that is supported by the taxpayers are not doing its duty. The government who should be on our side, to fight for our wellbeing is not on our side right now. With the world's eyes on the Hong Kong government and the police force, the fires of tear gas is a definite 'no no'. So now what? Nothing other than unleashing the triad mobs to thrash the scenes. Or have the police sit crossed-armed and release attackers, escorting pro-china activists to taxis. Yes, I bet that's the way to do it.

I can't believe people would sell their future and their children's future for $500 HKD, and go around attacking protestors, pushing over barricades, harassing female demonstrators and smashing people in the groins.

I do understand that Hong Kong is a part of China, and I personally recognize my identity as a Chinese. I do not want independence. I am Chinese. It is in my blood. What I want, however, is democracy, and I want my fellow citizens and fighters to be safe and sound. I do not wish to see violence and blood and people getting hurt. I want to have their voices, our  voices heard and listened to.

I cry for my city. I have never felt so strongly about my home and my people. I have never wanted to be home this bad to witness all this madness and stand in line with my peers against the suppression from both the Chinese and Hong Kong governments, to voice our demands for democracy. And I wish, with all my heart, all my might, that we will get what we are fighting for, because this may possibly be our last stance.