happy birthday

Long long time ago, pei fell in love. With the greatest entertainer in the Chinese-speaking Asia.
A successful entertainer in Asia has to do everything: TV series, movies, song albums, commercials, and anything you can think of. Of course, the basic element of an idol is a handsome face. Andy Lau definitely has it. After 20 years, he still has it. His career never goes down, no matter how the political environment has changed dramatically in Hong Kong. He does not just survive. He rules. Everyone loves him.

In the early teenage, I collected things about him. I memorized all the lyrics of his songs (including both Mandarin and Cantonese). I saw all his TV series and movies repeatedly. I bought his posters for my walls, pictures for my wallet, and autobiography for my book shelf. He was my religion during those years living under the pressure of getting into the best high school.
In the late teenage, one night I was bored in my dorm room. My university is a small one. We had a pocket-size directory with everyone's personal information. The personal information that interested me at that boring night was birthdays. Why did we publically list our birthdays is beyond my logic.

When I was in teens, my memory of birthdays was impeccable. Anyone told me his/her birthday, and I would remember it. Even until now, I still remember birthdays of lots of my junior-high classmates.

That boring night in the college dorm, I flipped through the directory, only filtering in birthdays.
I found one person born on the exact same day as me. I found several people having the same birthday as my mom. I found one person born having the same birthday as Andy Lau: September 27.
You know, as a bored college geeky girl as I was, I went not so far to try to search for this person. It turned out he was not as far as Andy Lau who was out of my reach. So I got close to him and fell in love with him. The rest of the story is not the point of this entry, although it is a good story. Let's just say, Andy Lau's birthday has changed my life.

So you see, Kirua, I guess I can't forget your birthday, either.
This is for you, my dear friend. Happy birthday!
Should not be too difficult for you because it is now the beautiful autumn in south France. Even if you are awfully alone, you are luckier than me. My birthday is in winter, of which I had no choice. I believe your first birthday in France will not be worse than my first birthday in America.

I was in L.A. With Gina, who didn't remember my birthday that day. I was there with her relatives. At the dinner, I said I wanted a lighter because I wanted to blow off a fire for my own tradition. Until then, no one at the dinner knew it was my birthday. Which was actually kinda cool that I had a little secret going on. But it was not so cool that I could not convince myself that my day was happy and cool.
Once they knew, Gina and her cousin took me to make a head-shot sticker, a very popular Japanese thing at the time. Although it was super popular, I had only done it twice in Taipei. The one I did in L.A. was my third and last time. I am just not a Japanese kind of girl. Japanese fashion just does not blend with me well.

Candle blowing is a must. Go tell everyone that today is your birthday, and ask them to bring a candle. See if the number of friends matches your new age.
Call me, birthday boys. I will sing you a song.
Let's see if Andy Lau will call me. Too bad that he doesn't have my number. (Yeah, I wish.) (Even if I wish, it's not my birthday, and the wish would not come true.)

beautiful moments

"My job is to make you beautiful. Your job is to allow me to do my job." He said.
I smiled but immediately realized that he could not see my smile, so I said yes.

"Just relax," He said, "and imagine how beautiful you are and express it."
I smiled and relaxed my shoulders and palms. He felt my beauty and led me into a wonderfully slow walk, with music. I felt so beautiful.
And he changed lead when music changed. I moved in a wonderland called tango, only accessible when the leader knows how to make me beautiful. We were a great pair, naturally elegant.

Edmund is always so gentle and polite with a soft but firm voice. His posture is strong but not stiff. His embrace makes anyone want to embrace him back. My cheek bone is embraced by his cheek, so he talks directly to my ear. Between songs, we separate and carry conversations purely relevant to tango without any other meaningless or gossiping contents.
I don't care if he is a totally different person out of the dance floor. He is perfect on the dance floor, which is what keeps me expecting his invitations and keeps me staying with him for the entire practica or milonga.

"Don't be humble. Don't deny how beautiful you are." He liked to say.
But I found the most beautiful thing was how he induced preciously beautiful moments with me.

When a girl finds this kind of perfect tango partner, she imagines she is the luckiest person in the world.

After the perfect practica, I met a red balloon.
I've grown a fondness for red balloons since 2005 when first seeing Paul Klee's painting in Guggenheim.
Like sunshine, a red balloon in the sky simply makes me smile. It's like I was the red balloon, and being in the sky made me feel great and happy. Being round and flying with a string attached is the best non-living thing I want to be. I don't want to be free as extremely free of any anchor point. I want to be free as being looked-after kind of free, such as my traveling plans: go far far away but always can go back to the place called home.
Such as the free leg will move according to the lead. Edmund knows it.

I guess I am looking for a string. However, it is not very visibly attached to the balloon. Under the candle light, it doesn't exist. Under a brighter light, it almost disappears. I have to stare at the painting with effort in order to see it.
I still smile. You make me feel cared and beautiful. If this is your job, I allow you to do so.

happy moments

Being in traffic means sitting in a slowly moving line of cars. Often, the line is not obvious; cars surround me everywhere.
Thus, I may look around. When looking around, my eyes may meet other people's eyes.
What do you do when accidentally making eye contact with a stranger? As the basic rule of eye contact clearly says: avoid eye contact. See through the people. I have discussed about this previously. You may take this entry as an update.
Usually this strategy works pretty well because all the drivers have this common sense. Like elevator riders, subway passengers, and city walkers, drivers stuck in the traffic should learn how to avoid eye contact.

A person waved at me with a big smile.
I made my face smile back and looked away.
Was I rude or was he?

Last night I finally caught up with this awesome movie "Into The Wild".
Supertramp wrote: Happiness only real when shared.
Poor him realized it too late and died lonely. His happiness might not be real but is real now because it is shared through the book and the movie. His happiness has become immortally real.
Hey, Jason, let's go to Alaska before we are not too old.

Perhaps that driver was happy and had to share his happiness to anyone. He may have just felt the tiny ticklish sensation of happiness. I may have been the first person right after the feeling hit him. He couldn't help but share it with me.
Better than not sharing, he thought.
I don't care who that woman is in that bubbly cute blue car, he kept thinking.
I have to tell her that I am happy at this very moment, he was getting prepared to raise his hand.
Oh, she is looking to my direction, he opened his palm and waved.
She saw me! She smiled back! Well... her smile looks fake, he kept waving and smiling.
Fine. At least I am happy, he drove forward and left the bubble car behind.

This past week was insane. (Paola would say I was totally destroyed. I love her English.)
I didn't have time to do laundry.
Because I went home late.
Because I got up early.
Because I didn't have energy to do anything to tidy up my apartment.
Because I didn't have enough quarters.
Because I didn't have time to go to the bank to get loads of quarters.
Today, after being jammed in traffic, I was determined to do grocery shopping while bearing the idea of doing laundry in mind. I timidly asked the cashier to give me changes in as many quarters as possible. She did! Five dollars of quarters!
I was so so so happy. I walked out the Whole Food Market with my heavy wallet, with a big smile.
Yes, I nodded and smiled and showed my teeth. The more I nodded, the more I could feel how happy I was. Try it. Nod and smile at the same time. You will feel even happier :)
If smile is contagious, nod gives the prolonging effect.

Why was the driver so happy? He must have seen Bungbung's smile.
I love my theory (nodding).

hot for making fun of

Just about the time I was going to stop following American politics, Sarah Palin was added on the Republican ticket.
Yes, she is beautiful.
Beauty is an extra bonus point for a successful, intelligent, educated, witty person, especially a woman. People would like to see her for one more second beyond the first impression, to try to understand her more, to try to listen to her, and to try to accept what she's trying to sell.

But Palin's only strength is beauty. This obviously is not enough for being the Vice President. And I don't know why half of Americans don't see it obvious. She cannot even understand a question when being interviewed on TV. No blink to terrorism? This is the answer to how you're going to deal with the problem? She must be living in the well, looking up at the sky light and thinking that's the actual size of the sky.
Tina Fey looks exactly like Sarah Palin! Beautiful as well. Somehow I believe Fey is more qualified than Palin to the candidate. Hey, children need someone to look up to.
Perhaps Republicans think adding her on the ticket would encourage female voters to back GOP. I think it only encourages men to do so:
What a beautiful woman, waiting behind the President! Let's get her on board so that I can see her face more often for the next four years.
Oh, see how old McCain is. Palin may be the President in two years! We Americans will have the most beautiful president in the world.

Women, on the other hand, would just totally be turned off.
To convince a woman that the other woman is better than herself is not by showing a beautiful face. No way. She will only be jealous and try her best to ruin the pretty face.
Palin is so conservative that her mind stays with her grandma's generation, and that her religious belief is way more shocking than GW Bush's.
Matt Damon questioned whether Palin denies the existence of dinasours. He doesn't want his children to grow up and be taught in school that God only created human kinds, and that species before humans were fiction.

Is she really that naive or ignorant?
Or she pretends so? (A lot people think GW Bush is pretending.)
McCain picked her for the purpose of making himself look more sane?
Anyway, she cannot be a leader. America deserves someone much better than her. The so-called "Leader of the Free World" deserves someone much better than her.

By the way, I was chatting with a patient. He said America is not free; it is soooo expensive for people who are ill and need treatment. He said he has paid a lot of money to the insurance company and the government, and guess what, his treatment is not covered. What? he asked, I paid for being covered, for being able to get sick even if I don't want to. It's not a free country! It's a ridiculous country where the government doesn't take care of the people.
I just nodded and patted his arm. Well, I hope he get better, go home, and vote in Novemeber.

beetle for hyundai?

I don't get much mail everyday. My mailbox is small but only is crowded by magazines I subscribe. In the middle of a month, my mailbox can get quite empty.

Thanks for Kirua and Ching and others who occasionally sent me postcards. The post officer should not feel pity to me even though sometimes nothing arrived in my mailbox.
I don't get many ads either. Well... at least the amount of ads received here cannot compare to that in Taipei.

One day I got an ad asking me to trade my beetle for a hyundai. A brand new hyundai. With my name on it. There were many exclamation marks all over the ad, suggesting that I should feel very excited to get a brand new car with my name on it. Oh really? I see all the exclamation marks as question marks.

What on earth is the dealer thinking? Asking a bug driver to give away her bug for a, what, hyundai? What kind of promotion is this? Not convincing. Not enticing. Totally a turn-off.

If it were a mini cooper, I may have seriously considered about it.

When something like this happens, I can't help but feeling humilitated. Yes, sometimes I can take such tedious things very personal, especially after a long day of work, not much goodness of me left.
Is this how the dealer think about a beetle owner? That she may somehow suddenly prefer a hyundai over a beetle? If so, she would have bought a hyundai because it was sooo much more fun to drive it. Of course, this is not true. Hyundai has to make a great lot of changes, at all levels and aspects, to capture her attention.
The direction is: hyundai drivers want to trade their cars for a vw new beetle. Not the other way around. Dear Mr. Dealer, you are kinda confused.

It makes me to think about recent events related to bad persuasion. I don't get it. Why would someone try to persuade me into something even though he knew the technique or the bait was not sweet? Because he wanted a firmly negative answer? Because he could not make up his mind and asked for my help to terminate his advertisement?
The failure does not come from how the idea is promoted, but from what the idea itself. I don't want a hyundai.

I love coffee but not the bitter kind.

my first support group

Chester, NJ feels like the central PA. The rehabilitation facility in Chester is deep in the woods. I would love to work more there in fall. Driving to work will be a visually comfortable colorful experience everyday. How nice.

I was going to see two patients. One had been discharged earlier today. Good luck to him. I hope the reason for his discharge was because he was capable to live without a professional medical monitor, not because his insurance program decided to terminate the payment.
Last week, the wife of a patient was so upset to learn that why her husband had been kicked around between hospitals was because of the insurance company. Oh, Americans, please vote for someone who promises a much better health insurance system. You don't want to be kicked around when you're sick. You want to be treated when you're sick. Don't let the insurance company decide for your doctor. How pathetic.

The other patient in Chester was in a support group. Well... bad timing for me. I decided to sit in and listen to the guest speaker, who is a stroke survivor sharing her experience of recovery.
I observed the patient, Mrs. PL who I wanted to see, in the audience. She definitely does not look like a 92-year-old to me. Later, I talked to her. She remembered my labmates had visited her yesterday. She showed a highly positive attitude of getting better.

Patients feel supported when they are surrounded by people like them. Hey, we all can get better! As a team, we will. Yes, we can. Yes, we will. We work hard. We rest. We will walk again. We will talk again. We will drive again. We will cook again.

I felt supported.
My research is trying to do some good to them. I feel a positive purpose of my existence.
This probably is the first time I feel not so bad after my saying long ago: I'll never work in a hospital, for it's too depressing.
It's not bad now.

a wish for me

Oh my mama is getting old.
Since I left Taipei, however, she has appeared younger and younger with a more and more beautiful smile on her.

She was not prettier than me when she was at my age. Because she just had my brother and was fat.
But now she can fit into more hot shorts and jeans than me.
Jeans tell all about the body, enhancing the most impressive part if the body is gorgeous, revealing the most appalling part if the body is nothing sweet to be looked at.
Which is why I like to see guys with jeans. That's how I judge their rear end.
Appreciating a woman's body in jeans is a different kind of judgment because women usually wear jeans fit. Thus, belly and thighs are taken into account too. Which makes it more difficult to look great in jeans for women. Which also makes it more profitable if someone designs a pair of jeans that make all women happy.
The point is my mama can wear jeans at the age of 53. Women in her age are jealous. How fabulous. I am not only very proud of her but also very happy for her that she is very happy about all the compliments about her shape. This is all superficial and all important. Any person needs compliments, even on superficial subjects, strengthening self-esteem a whole lot. Then she will display a smile like an endless horizon barely separating the sky and ocean, embracing everything on the earth.

She never smiles like a flower.
That's her charm.
She has a kind of quality that I never found an English word for it. The Chinese word says it all. But how can I express it in English? It's like the quality you find in Juliette Binoche or Maggie Cheung. It is a way a woman carries herself. Not particularly in any mood, but when people see her, people remember her image with that quality. That quality makes "beautiful" so superficial and "elegant" so phony.

Don't get me wrong. She is not perfect like a unreachable goddess. She can be crazy. Tearfully huge laughs. Hysterical angers. Heartbreaking cries. She makes weird faces and says the most inappropriate thing at odd situations. If she allows herself, she dances and sings well.

Life has taught her something profound that I won't be able to understand until reaching her age. Probably I will never fully understand because I don't know what my life will teach me yet.
She is so fearless and independent. But she is also so lovable and dependable.
Her uniqueness is not because of what happened to her, which I can write several books for her, but because of how she dealt with what happened to her. I've seen much of her in horribly shitting situations. She has been crashed into pieces, but always put herself back together. She never escapes but absorbs.
Some people just grow old but never grow wisdom. Their romantic excuse is keeping their spirits young. Right, but being young doesn't mean being childish/unrealistic/irresponsible/arrogant.
Cruel life experiences enable my mama to be childlike, humble, tough, and confident. She never stops growing up to the next level of maturity. Mamas are amazing, especially mine.

When I said happy birthday to her some hours ago, I found my wish redundant. Of course she would have a happy birthday. I called anyway because I wanted to hear her happy voice.
Happy birthday sounds more like a wish to myself. I am happy because of her birthday.

Barcelona

You've seen the new Woody Allen movie?
You should. It's a good one. The best one for the last 6 years.

I always think Spain is a much more romantic place than France. Because I prefer Spanish than French. Not that I know how to speak either one. Just because one sounds passionate and the other one tiresome.
It's like Johansson's character's reason for learning Chinese rather than Spanish.

Colors in Spain are so powerful, enriching characteristics of people there. They are closer to their own cores and farther from the supposed-to-be.
At least that's what was depicted in the movie.

I've never been to Barcelona. I've never been to Europe, actually.
What a waste, friends always say to me, that I should've gone there when I was dating the French guy.
No, I wouldn't even if he asked me to go with him. I was afraid. Certain places hold special places in my heart. People who go to those places with me will somehow become special.
Manhattan is special. I had dreamed about holding hands, walking on streets, dancing, laughing, kissing with a special person there. That special person danced tango with me in MoMA before he learned how to tango and took a walk with me in the Park through the Gates. Certain places in my favorite city, since then, became memory holders.
Dating later became seeing. Happy moments were outnumbered by hurtful exchanges. Memory holders just remind me of how old my soul has become.
So I am glad that I didn't go to Europe with him.

Vicky and Cristina got back on their lives again after the summer in Barcelona.
What an ironic shame? They should've changed their lives after the trip?
Woody Allen knows well that people don't change after a summer, even if it's a once-in-a-life-time summer. Technically, each summer is once in a life time, but you know what I mean.
People don't change their self-idealized track of life easily. They may understand themselves better. They may justify their unexpected behavior better. They may cross off an item of the to-do list or jot down an item on the what-wild/crazy/cool-things-I've-done list. They just don't push away their original life style and jump into another one in a snap.

I used to believe in "change in a snap". Long time ago, I saw French Kiss and loved Meg Ryan. I wished I would be her character: someone random, totally out of her expectation, lit up her life, made her stay, and built a shared life together.
On a relatively stable secured track of life, I am still holding a tiny hope that someone strong enough can influence my decision: stay or leave as long as we are together.

The difference between Vicky and Cristina was:
V thought she knew what she wanted. C knew what she didn't want. At the end, V was confused, and C was still wondering how to avoid what she didn't want.
I am more like V. The relationship ended a year ago is my long summer in Barcelona. Will never forget about it. But no way to get back there in a fresh mentality. Even though it was so colorful and enriching, I'd rather go to the real Barcelona with no one special.

sleepless

Tears came out of the heart as if the heart was broken again.

Why are you so special?
I loved you. That's why.

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Smile immediately displayed at "hi" as if the heart was stolen again.

Why are you so special?
I loved you. That's why.

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You are my red and white roses.
But right now, I just want a balloon.

At the end of the short story of Red Rose and White Rose is that he became a nice person again.
I don't know the answer of my story.

I am a mentally able person who can feel love.
But I don't know how many times I can feel it in my life time.
Twice perhaps is the maximum. If so, you are lucky.
Twice may be the minimum. If so, I am lucky.

throw a kiss

Hello September. Can't believe we have arrived the last quarter of 2008. What have I done for the past 8 months? What haven't I done? Or what didn't I do but I said I would do it?

I didn't go to Boston.
Krissy moved there. I said I would visit her because summer is the best season visiting Boston. However, the reality conquered me. I had no energy driving up there or taking a bus by myself. I had no budget for extra trips and need to save for another Chicago trip and the winter trip back home. I had to give time for tango too. Frankly, I just want to take a break after a week of work and become a veggie doing nothing but breathing in and out and in and out and in and out consciously like most yogis do.

I didn't go to Paris.
Kirua got a week-long sublet of an apartment in downtown Paris. I wish I were there, walking day after day by the river, taking thousands of pictures of buildings and colorful people, mimicking postures of thousands of sculptures, and eating cheese, drinking wine, sipping coffee, listening to the sound of Parisian winds.
Of course, reality won again. I had to save my vacation days for the winter trip back home. Twelve vacation days a year are not enough, but I am not in a good position to argue or even to change the policy.

I didn't go to a yoga camp or a tango festival.
Through Facebook, I received thousands of event invitations. Sorry, dancers in London, Mallorca, Portland, Buenos Aires, Montreal, and especially Chicago that you missed me. I have other things in life needing my full attention. Such as Yang got married with a super short notice. Such as Bungbung got to be checked before doing any long-distance trip. Such as Alex, Viv, and Claudia came to town. Such as Kim invited me to sunset walks. Such as Liu recommended certain must-see exhibitions. I wish I were more involved in the tango or yoga community. Oh well... there are always next weekend and next month and next year.

I didn't go to meet old-time friends flying from Taiwan.
Yvette came to North Carolina. Shaun went to Carlifornia. They were my best buddies in the Drama Club, which would have disappeared if we three had not insisted running it.
Yvette, the woman who never shows fear (沒有在怕的啦), planning everything at last second, drove to DC and wished to meet me. Well.... the States (see? there is an "s" at the end of the country's name) is a much larger country than Taiwan. Even a random state is larger than Taiwan. A 4-hour one-trip driving for a dinner was not very energy-boosting for me after a mentally looong wedding day of Yang's. At least, Yvette and I chatted a couple of times when she was in the States. At least, I was able to answer questions about parking rules for her.
Shaun went on a month-long trip before his medical intern career. He and his friends had the whole trip planned, visiting several gorgeous cities and sceneries. I smiled and wished them having a most unforgettable trip. At least, Shaun and I chatted a couple of times when he was in the States. At least I was able to answer questions about airport check-in processes for him.

I didn't do a lot of things that I wanted to do.
I guess this is always the case, so that I can keep planning and wanting and dreaming to do something. This kind of motivation is crucial. So that I keep my eyes looking forward. So that I have my heart beating for readiness.
I don't regret for things I didn't do but wanted. Oh, regrets are overrated.
Let's throw a kiss to the past and wish it well locked in the unimportant personal history. The past has my kiss and is very satisfied, I believe.
For the final quarter of 2008, I want to do some things. I may let you know if I do them four months later. For now, kiss ba-bye, because I want to do some things in the next minute after now. I am going to do some things today. I am.

For him, I allow this color to appear in my space.