小火炬

幾年前，奇摩交友當紅，在台灣的朋友或是從台灣來的朋友都在玩奇摩交友，於是我也弄了一個，在個人資料裡可以填寫就學經驗，從幼稚園到研究所都可以寫，我都沒填。奇摩交友的年代裡，我一個新朋友都沒結交到，因為我本來就不是很能接受"網友"這種東西，即使常常親耳聽到成功的案例，但是個性使然，我就是沒辦法好好的想像陌生人可以是好人，所以奇摩交友變成跟舊朋友的聯繫管道，沒多久我玩膩了就把帳號停掉。
現在，FaceBook 當紅，我也弄了一個帳號，基本上是我得知 tango 消息和散佈在美國各地的朋友的"喔，原來他現在長這樣"的寒喧管道，也不是認識新朋友的方式。怎麼說呢，我可以很會 party，但是我比較喜歡面對面的 party。

例如一個國中畢業後不久就移民加拿大國中同學山姆王，上一次我見到他是五年前，再之前就是十五歲的國中同學會吧。非常舊的朋友，目前當然是非常的不熟。
他當然也在 FaceBook 上，之前他也在奇摩交友。
重點是無論在哪裡，他們放不下小火炬。尤其是男生，國中男同學們在不同的線上社群都一定會告訴大家他們是小火炬。
我當然沒忘小火炬，但是我一畢業就放下了。
我也忘不了綠制服，一畢業我也就不提了。

李校長剛上任的時候，我還有去她辦公室跟他打招呼，我忘了為什麼去，我只記得我是跟 Gina 去的。
她改制服，改校徽，還設計不同的勵志書籤，其中一句勵志嘉言就是要我們像小火炬一樣發光發熱。
後來她改校舍，改成現在這樣一個完全沒有我回憶的校園，漂漂亮亮的坐在敦南誠品正對面，每次經過都不會想要往裡面看，反正怎麼看都不會看到那個有我年少身影的操場和司令台。
小火炬這件事情卻是莫名其妙的一直在海外發光發熱，因為我有一半以上的國中同學或是同屆的同學(一個年級也才七班)都曾經來美加，或是現在還在美加。
如果提起，就會被拉進一個小小的框框裡。

同樣的道理，有很多穿綠制服的人，在大學畢業後也到美加，雖然一個年級有二十幾班，但是我當初的確認識了很多臉孔(名字是絕對想不起來的)。如果提起，也會被拉進一個小小的框框裡。

台灣人就是一個小小的框框。
為了不被拉進小框框裡，我也一直跟台灣學生不熟。

所以目前我最喜歡提起的就學經驗大概就是陽明大學，因為陽明大學的出國風氣遠遠在北一女和復興國中之下，沒有框框。
沒有框框的意思，就是沒有八卦，沒有 "ㄟ，你知道那個誰誰誰嗎?"
"不知道耶，因為我不是台大的。" 台大的出國風氣大概跟復興國中差不多吧。於是謠言就這樣的止於智者我這裡了。

愛校這種美德就好像孝順這兩個字一樣給我感覺: 不能理解。
我絶對尊敬母校，但是愛校就說不上了。
我孝順阿嬤嗎? 我尊敬她，但是愛她真的是說不上呀。

我喜歡我的國中生涯，我的人格和個性是那時候定調的。但是我沒有辦法說我是小火炬。
高中很一般，即使我人前榮耀，但是我過得不是很開心，不開心跟學校沒有直接的關係，而那件制服給了我一個莫名的標籤，我沒有辦法說我以它為榮。
大學時，我很順利的體驗了所有我能想像最棒的四年，但是我不能說我愛陽明。
承認我從哪個學校畢業的，跟愛不愛校真的很難有關係吧。求學過程值不值得回憶也跟學校本身似乎也很難有關係，是我的遇到老師和同學造就我的愛與恨，但是依然跟愛不愛校沒有關係。
就像是孝順這個概念是很沒有道理的一樣。我回饋我感受到的，我愛麻媽，因為我感受也接受她對我的愛。如果她是很豬頭的媽媽，不理我又不餵我又不聽我說話也不讓我思考，她說一萬遍她愛我，我也不會愛她。

所以我不會加入 FaceBook 上的小火炬社群，不代表我不懷念國中那三年的美好。

terms without expiration

Jack Nicholson's name and image were on the DVD case, which was the reason why I picked it up. I didn't even know the title of the movie until laughing my heart out and crying my eyes out.

I was a bit bored at the beginning of the movie, thinking what an old topic and what an old-fashioned comedy. I didn't know how old this movie was actually. Now I know. Probably lots of movies made after this one borrowed ideas and humors from it.

In the whole world, there is one person who can make me change my plans just to please her because I want to please her and because she does mean that much to me.

In this movie, Jack Nicholson was not the element that made it so extraordinary. It was the friendship-like mother and daughter relationship that was depicted so well, so well that I rolled my eyes for hating what the mother did to her daughter, that I laughed out loud for what the daughter said to her mother, that I cried so hard for I could totally feel it as if I was in the death bed and as if Mama was watching me off.

Little talks about each other's personal life.
Criticizing each other bitterly but making up soon later.
Hanging up on the phone but no bad feelings.
No sweet conversations but two tough women.
Enduring trivial personality flaws because they knew each other so well. Because we know each other so well.

She is much tougher than me. Of course she has weaknesses but she is tougher.
I hope she thinks that I am tougher than her.

I saw a patient today. My first ever patient in my first ever patient-only study.
She was 83. She had been so optimistic and motivated to get better. I didn't see fear in her eyes until I went through the mood questionnaire with her. She calmed herself down by mentioning the happiness that her granddaughter has brought her. She wished to get better sooner so that she could go home and enjoy the time she could have with the 4-yr-old.
Suddenly, I felt the urge to hug her. Well, I didn't. I had to do it professionally (Why is "professionally" expressed in a way how "cold-blooded" is expressed?).
Hours later, I watched Terms of Endearment. Suddenly, having a daughter becomes one of my life goals.
I can't guarantee that my future daughter and I will have a relationship as nearly wonderful as the relationship between Mama and I. But if I don't have a daughter, I will never have a chance to have such a great relationship. And I may not have motivation to get better if I am in a rehab at the age of 83. Yeah, I can think really far.

Therefore, I feel lucky for Mama. She has me.



Everyone knows that I am lucky to have her. She is so cool and cute.

courage to leave

I just told a friend that I want to go away, away from everything I know. I want to travel with only one backpack (and dance shoes) to Europe or South America. I want to leave.
Leave.
Leave.
Leave.
Do you have this moment in life that you just want to leave things behind and disappear for a while?
It is not like you don't have hopes any more. It is more like you want to have hopes.

Of course I can't leave.
Because I am such an ordinary person.
And because I don't have budgets to travel.
And because I don't believe I can live on a backpack for long.

But I hope I could just leave. I hope I could just leave everything behind me and go see different oceans, rivers, forests, mountains, towers, castles, skylines, stop signs, police uniforms, farmer's market, and just to feel new feelings.

A Taiwanese young man just left to travel with a backpack. He came back to Taiwan alive and published a book about his journey. I saw it in a bookstore in Taipei. I admired him. I wanted to see all the pictures live. He left for looking for himself. I want to be like him. Of course, I want to publish a book too.
An American young man only hiked alone in places no one wanted to hike. His book described some most amazingly life-threatening moments of his journey. One time, his arm was stuck between two rocks. He stood there for 5 days helplessly without food. Eventually, he sawed his own arm off with a pocket knife. I don't want to be like him. But I want to go as many places as he did. I want to see as many different sky lights as he did.
I just want to leave.
I am not a great risk taker. And I am not very smart with strangers and unfamiliar places. But I still want to leave, leave, leave.

Some one please give me courage.
Let me just leave everything behind me. Let me just go find the meaninglessness of my own life.
All those road trip movies actually could happen to me. I could now just walk out and take my bug and drive to Canada! Vancouver is the best because I then have to drive all the way from the East to the West. I could try out different diners serving the same American food. I could take pictures of different little towns with the same gas station.
Why Canada? Because I just applied for a Visa to enter the country. I should not waste it.

Why is that all I can actually do is dream about it?

Arh.... I should get back to my writing. I need to submit this damn paper.
I am so drowsy now. Probably take a nap and make some dreams before resume the paper writing business ...

I want to leave.

harriman hikers

This pair of shoes companied me in all physical education classes in university, on all gym-going days, and during all hikes including the Shei-Pa (大霸尖山) hike which took me two days.

Being craving for Nature, I googled keywords "New Jersey" and "Hiking" and found a group claimed that they have been hiking every Sunday for over 30 years.
Yesterday, I drove up toward the Ramapo College where the Harrisman Hikers gathered before car pooling to the hiking area. For 6 dollars, it was an awesome experience.

Out of the 19 hikers, 3 were first timers in the group. I was one of them. Out of the 3 first timers, I was the only one who wore sneakers. To be specific, they were tennis shoes. I loved them no matter how often the other hikers tried to tell me that I should've used hiking boots and even hiking socks. Even though I was not the only person in jeans, I was the only person in jeans who got most comments on should've-not-worn-jeans. I didn't have a brand-name professional sweater or jackets or raincoat or hat or gloves. I didn't carry a backpack heavier than one kg. I just shrugged and pretended that I was stupid.
I was not stupid, just not as prepared as anybody else. I just didn't think about getting all activity-specific gadgets before participating in an activity. It is called normal.

Normal as I was, I took a good number of pictures to record the hike. Click the picture below and you'll know what's up with the rusty head.

Harriman Hikers

welcome back to the mess

A 70-year-old just fell to the floor. Everyone came to her and tried to give some help. She appeared weak and a bit disoriented. She was so tired of waiting.
Me too.

We were waiting in line in the early afternoon in the post office.
We, as in ten to twelve people who did not know each other, were very patient because there was nothing we could do but be quite and wait.
Only one representative or officer or clerk or postman (whatever his title was) was providing his detail-oriented service.

I had come over at 10am when I thought the office should have been empty and I should have been the only smiley customer. But there were 5 people waiting. I was like "Oh, there are more people than I thought who did not need to work in a Tuesday morning." I did not work because I had just deplaned (what a cute word invented by stewardesses) and because my brain could not work properly after the 36-hour trip.
At 10am, I had given it up and went home to take a shower and to check email.
At 1:30pm, I visited the post office again. Although there were obviously twice more people in line than 3 and half hours ago, I decided to wait. I could not do anything anyway. Might as well wait in line and make some day dreams.

The old lady was behind me. Including her and me, the double-digit number of waiting people in the entire post office did not make sounds except for the postman's "next please". This background white noise was so sleep-promoting.
After 40 minutes, it was my turn. I came to pick up my mail for the past two weeks. As the postman disappeared to the back for getting my mail, the old lady could not stand anymore. She was leaning against a dividing pole (the thing that sticks out stretching belts), but the pole was not made for it. She fell. And the office felt alive finally: "Oh, help her!" "Are you okay?" "Someone call 911!" "Where is the guy? We need help here!" "Give her a chair!"
I remained my position in front of the counter and watched. I did not feel like participating in this whole thing. It felt like a dream. I could have closed my eyes and waken up tomorrow night.
I wanted to laugh.
To laugh at my leaving the super efficient Taiwan system for this mess.

After the robbery in January, I called the International Office for help. An important visa document (so-called OPT) was lost. I was suggested to apply for J-1 (status for a visiting scholar) in Taiwan instead of in the US. Because in the US, it would take about 6 months, and in Taiwan it would take about 6 days according to a website providing average processing days around the world for a US visa.
It took me one day.
The waiting line was long (about an hour) but very well organized. Everyone could sit before seeing the interviewer.
Afterwards, I applied for a visa for entering Canada multiple times. It also took me one day only.

Every time I returned to Taipei, the first thing I did was to re-activate my health insurance, which is provided by the government. The administrative system of Da-an District was by far my favorite. All staff were super nice and friendly. The hardware was clean, neat, bright, and modern. After taking the number tag, I could sit comfortably in a couch, sipping tea (free), reading newspapers, and being apologized "Sorry that you have to wait a bit."

Here in the US, no one likes the inefficient system but everyone is used to it and is conditioned to the helplessness. Even when the lady could not stand it anymore, no one was brave enough to shout that the cause of her breaking down was the long long line which was the result of the inefficient service.

In a movie or a book, I don't remember, the character said "Never piss off people in the airport." Why? They could be upset and so upset that they could not see your bad mood and could cause more difficulty in your trip.
This is definitely not the case in Taiwan. Costumers are gods.
When my flight was delayed for 5 hours in Taipei, they spontaneously immediately provided some compensation.
Because it was delayed, I could not catch the original connecting flight from San Francisco to Newark. I waited for 8 more hours. Finally I arrived in Newark. While waiting for Kristin to pick me up, I overheard a guy who was very upset on the phone, saying the airline mis-scheduled his itinerary and he was stuck in Newark. The person on the other side of the phone obviously did not help him at all. He made two calls. He was put on hold. He was told "Sorry, we cannot help you."
I was reading "American Gods" at the time when he was trying hard not to curse to the phone, and I sighed in my head "One of the American Gods is the costumer service."