Yesterday was a day of tragic news, as the world learned of the death of both Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett, the former completely a surprise, and the latter was expected for a while due to her battle with cancer. Michael Jackson was only 50 years old, and Farah Fawcett 62. Still, as I read the news, I could not help but think to myself, “life is so transient and vulnerable to so many things – illness, accidents, etc – that it’s a wonder anyone can live to old age.”
As I look at my newborn son, I have started to worry about everything and anything. Short of protecting him all the time, I feel that he might be hurt. He’s at the beginning of his life, and he really does have his whole life ahead of him. But what if I am not careful about protecting him against all the germs, viruses, evils and disasters of the world? And how could I possibly do that, short of quitting everything else in life?
Then I got an e-mail from a dear friend who has had three kids by now. She wrote, “There will be endless number of things to worry about, and it's very hard to pursue perfection. Essentially, you don't realize how messy and conflicted and beautiful a life is until now. Right now it's total immersion in the baby and you might feel some loss of your own identity, but soon it will actually expand and reinforce your idea of self.”
Death has always frightened me terribly. Now that I am holding my baby boy in my arms and feeling his life, I find it hard to believe that a life so vivid and irrepressible could ever expire. As my friend said, we don’t realize how complicated and yet how beautiful life is until we create a life ourselves. Yes, we all will die some day. But part of us will live on, through our babies, who will get old eventually as well. But for now, they look like that they possess a rather eternal vivacity. They look like that they will just keep growing, thriving and living on forever.
And that’s of course a mother’s wish for her son.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Maternal Love
It has been a week since I gave birth to my son Winston. Prior to that, I had always wondered what people meant by saying that "it's the most wonderful thing that could happen in your life". I literally could not imagine.Now I do understand, although I lack the appropriate words to describe why. When I first held him in my arms after a very long labor, I marveled at how little he was, and also how dependent and helpless he was. While he did not exist in my life up until that moment, once he was in my arms, I felt that my life could not possibly be complete without him. Despite my wishes to raise him with discipline, I now understand why it is so easy for mothers to spoil their kids. Maternal love is supposedly the most selfless kind of love, and now I realize that in a way, while it is the purest kind of love, it is not necessarily selfless. - A baby is literally a vital part of a mother. Therefore, it is no wonder that she would do everything for her baby, including sacrificing herself if necessary. The genetic programming definitely works here, as a biologist friend commented when I told him my feelings about Winston.
Yes, indeed Winston is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened in my life. I realize that I will probably be an overprotective mother, as I have already started worrying about everything about him.
I also understand how my own mother felt about me when I was born. Without Winston, I don't think I could claim to truly appreciate how my mother has loved me and my sister. Perhaps one can only understand maternal love when she is on the giving end, as opposed to merely the receiving end.
Friday, June 5, 2009
After Attending San Francisco Opera's Production of "Tosca"
When Michael and I were living in Boston, at least twice a year, we would take a weekend trip from Boston to New York to visit friends. We always had such a grand time, going sightseeing or visiting museums, eating out, playing cards until 2 or 3 am, as well as to squeeze in a show or two. Sometimes we would attend a concert at New York Philharmonic; sometimes we would watch a play, such as the obnoxious playwright Tom Stoppard’s “The Invention of Love”. One New Year’s eve, we had great south Indian food for lunch and saw “Proof” starring Mary Louise Parker in the afternoon. On another trip back from New York, Michael suggested dropping by unannounced to visit a friend living in Providence. We were so amused to see how surprised she was when she opened the door. That was back when we engaged often in such “spontaneous living”…. I am amazed that I still remember all these details of our New York trips!
We only started attending operas fairly regularly after we saw the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Tosca” (the first opera we saw at the Met) – we sat so far from the stage that we needed binoculars to see the singers’ faces, only to realize that it’s best not to see them (hint – it takes great lung capacity to sing those arias, and generally skinny people do not have huge lung capacity). Since then, we have not seen any operas that rival the Met Opera’s magnificent productions, in Boston, San Diego or Los Angeles.
This past week, Michael and I attended San Francisco Opera’s performance of “Tosca” at the War Memorial Opera House. Maybe it’s because I was paying more attention, or maybe it’s because opera is considered a “higher” form of art than say, ballet, I had the impression that most of the people at the opera were not only quite old, but also very “distinguished-looking”. Of course, it is not surprising to see more old people at the operas – opera is not exactly as popular or “modern” as “American Idols”! People were dressed much more nicely at the opera than at ballets or other regular concerts – I felt really dowdy looking so heavily pregnant, and missed the days when I was as skinny as these other women wearing evening gowns. When the opera was over, quite a few limos were waiting outside to pick up old ladies gingerly walking in their high heels (yes, they were still wearing high heels).
Perhaps our tastes in music have got more selective – I remember being moved to tears by the arias sung by Mario towards the end of the opera at the Met, but this time, both Michael and I thought that overall “Tosca” was not even one of Puccini’s best. In addition, while we are not opera aficionados, we can still tell that the opera singers were not as good as the Met Opera ones. Don’t get me wrong – they still are very good, but their voices just did not grab me the way a truly great opera singer could.
Come to think of it, these traditional art forms such as opera and ballet are facing challenges from the new forms of art and entertainment every day, enhanced by technology and rendered easily accessible by internet. Michael pointed out how the seats at opera houses are so small and uncomfortable compared to the stadium seats in movie theaters. Well, I suppose that cannot be changed easily, and nor can opera houses afford to give people any more space without charging a real fortune. In a way, implicitly we are asked to put up with a lot of inconveniences to enjoy these traditional art forms – the price to pay for “acting” cultured. Being so much bigger and so much less mobile these days, I definitely find the seats a lot more uncomfortable than just a few weeks ago! I thought to myself , “I used to not even notice such things, but now I notice everything. I must be getting old!”
Leaving the War Memorial Opera House on this recent Tuesday night, I noticed how empty the streets were, with the exception of the limos and the taxis that waited outside to pick up passengers. I recall, somewhat nostalgically, that in Manhattan, when we got out of the Met Opera at close to midnight, the city was still bustling with energy, traffic, people and neon lights, even in the dead of the winter. Once we even went to get hot and spicy Korean food at close to mid-night, and it was downright fabulous and intoxicating.
Come to think of it, the Korean food (if reproduced) might not taste so amazing today, because by now we have had many exciting experiences that the bar for excitement has got higher and higher. Alternatively, it is possibly due to the fact that as we get older, we get more jaded. Back then, the ability to see a Met Opera followed by mid-night Bibimbap with freshly made kimchee could make us giddy beyond imagination. But it was mostly internal rather than external factors that have contributed to our fond memories. Back then, we were just so easily excited, amazed, surprised, and impressed, not to mention the fact that we were impoverished graduate students who had not seen the world yet.
Therefore, to be fair, perhaps the Met Opera was not really so much superior to the San Francisco Opera. The difference might be entirely in our minds. We remember the Met Opera as so much more lively, beautiful and memorable, perhaps because we see ourselves in those days through a certain filter, hopeful, energetic, innocent and beautifully young.
We only started attending operas fairly regularly after we saw the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Tosca” (the first opera we saw at the Met) – we sat so far from the stage that we needed binoculars to see the singers’ faces, only to realize that it’s best not to see them (hint – it takes great lung capacity to sing those arias, and generally skinny people do not have huge lung capacity). Since then, we have not seen any operas that rival the Met Opera’s magnificent productions, in Boston, San Diego or Los Angeles.
This past week, Michael and I attended San Francisco Opera’s performance of “Tosca” at the War Memorial Opera House. Maybe it’s because I was paying more attention, or maybe it’s because opera is considered a “higher” form of art than say, ballet, I had the impression that most of the people at the opera were not only quite old, but also very “distinguished-looking”. Of course, it is not surprising to see more old people at the operas – opera is not exactly as popular or “modern” as “American Idols”! People were dressed much more nicely at the opera than at ballets or other regular concerts – I felt really dowdy looking so heavily pregnant, and missed the days when I was as skinny as these other women wearing evening gowns. When the opera was over, quite a few limos were waiting outside to pick up old ladies gingerly walking in their high heels (yes, they were still wearing high heels).
Perhaps our tastes in music have got more selective – I remember being moved to tears by the arias sung by Mario towards the end of the opera at the Met, but this time, both Michael and I thought that overall “Tosca” was not even one of Puccini’s best. In addition, while we are not opera aficionados, we can still tell that the opera singers were not as good as the Met Opera ones. Don’t get me wrong – they still are very good, but their voices just did not grab me the way a truly great opera singer could.
Come to think of it, these traditional art forms such as opera and ballet are facing challenges from the new forms of art and entertainment every day, enhanced by technology and rendered easily accessible by internet. Michael pointed out how the seats at opera houses are so small and uncomfortable compared to the stadium seats in movie theaters. Well, I suppose that cannot be changed easily, and nor can opera houses afford to give people any more space without charging a real fortune. In a way, implicitly we are asked to put up with a lot of inconveniences to enjoy these traditional art forms – the price to pay for “acting” cultured. Being so much bigger and so much less mobile these days, I definitely find the seats a lot more uncomfortable than just a few weeks ago! I thought to myself , “I used to not even notice such things, but now I notice everything. I must be getting old!”
Leaving the War Memorial Opera House on this recent Tuesday night, I noticed how empty the streets were, with the exception of the limos and the taxis that waited outside to pick up passengers. I recall, somewhat nostalgically, that in Manhattan, when we got out of the Met Opera at close to midnight, the city was still bustling with energy, traffic, people and neon lights, even in the dead of the winter. Once we even went to get hot and spicy Korean food at close to mid-night, and it was downright fabulous and intoxicating.
Come to think of it, the Korean food (if reproduced) might not taste so amazing today, because by now we have had many exciting experiences that the bar for excitement has got higher and higher. Alternatively, it is possibly due to the fact that as we get older, we get more jaded. Back then, the ability to see a Met Opera followed by mid-night Bibimbap with freshly made kimchee could make us giddy beyond imagination. But it was mostly internal rather than external factors that have contributed to our fond memories. Back then, we were just so easily excited, amazed, surprised, and impressed, not to mention the fact that we were impoverished graduate students who had not seen the world yet.
Therefore, to be fair, perhaps the Met Opera was not really so much superior to the San Francisco Opera. The difference might be entirely in our minds. We remember the Met Opera as so much more lively, beautiful and memorable, perhaps because we see ourselves in those days through a certain filter, hopeful, energetic, innocent and beautifully young.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The Bay Area Housing Market
Compared to a friend of mine who has kept an active blog full of pictures of places she visited in Europe (she’s currently working in England), my blog has consisted of nothing but rather boring and mundane activities, such as watching movies (I just watched “Angels and Demons”, which was downright silly but I enjoyed it nonetheless as it was like visiting Rome again), going to operas and ballets (I have already written about Tan Yuan Yuan twice and am about to see a San Francisco Opera production of “Tosca” tonight - big deal), going hiking (even my mom, who’s been here for just a little over 2 weeks, has been Crystal Springs Reservoir, San Andreas Lake, Golden Gate Park, and Portola Valley areas several times by now). I guess I can ask Michael to put up some photos he took in San Francisco Botanical Garden and the Rose Garden in Golden Gate Park, but they really are nothing compared to the magnificent palaces, ancient castles and quaint houses showcased on my friend’s blog (she had pictures of Bath, Oslo, Paris, and numerous cute little English towns such as Kenilworth, Conventry, etc) – too bad that she does not allow public access, or else I would have added a link here.
Just today I was talking to a friend about the Bay Area housing market. When I told him that for this year, I am paying $2,800 a month for a 4-bedroom, 2000-square-foot, 10-year old house in a not-so-attractive neighborhood, he said that it was fairly good deal. I have already battled with the landlord on various issues, as he does not want to spend money on professional services, indicating that he himself certainly does not feel well off enough. First I was really indignant, as I am a landlord myself, and have never interfered with my agent doing anything for my tenants in San Diego, even though my house in San Diego is in much better condition and a much better neighborhood. Then I realized that whatever I do for others has no bearing on how others will behave. Suffice to say that my experience in this rental house has not been exactly enjoyable, and I rather dislike the cold weather here – I would much prefer the sunny weather of Palo Alto and further south.
People say that the high property values justify themselves because you get what you pay for – in other words, by living in Bay Area, you get access to a lot of things that you cannot get elsewhere. In a way, in order to enjoy what the famed Bay Area has to offer, one has to seek them proactively – trying all kinds of restaurants, attending various cultural events, skiing at Lake Tahoe, wine-tasting in Napa or Sonoma Valley or Santa Cruz Mountains, hiking around the lakes and hills, etc, all of which cost money. And if one were to live in a less desirable neighborhood in a 50 to 100 year old un-renovated house in order to pay for all these things that Bay Area has to offer, well, that does not seem to be worth it really either, does it?
Therefore, no wonder multi-millionaires in Palo Alto feel rather poor! Michael and I have been discussing where we would like to buy a house in Bay Area within this year. He loves great scenery and terrific views, and can perhaps live in a smaller place, whereas I am used to really spacious house with many rooms, and therefore less insistent on the absolute beauty of the surrounding neighborhood. But both of us want to live in nicely designed and modern homes, with easy commutes. Despite the housing market slowdowns, it looks like that in order to get something that meets most of these criteria, it will cost at least $1.25 million. And it is not even in Palo Alto, the only place where the public schools are good enough for us to send our kid there. In other words, even after paying at least $1.25 million for a house, we will be paying private school tuitions, and NOT be taking advantage of the school district that presumably has contributed to the high property value.
Isn’t the Bay Area housing market ridiculous? Coming from Boston and San Diego, two places that are not exactly considered inexpensive in the United States, I find it shocking.
Then my friend in New York told me that she was about to rent a house that’s slightly bigger than ours for $5,600 a month! She and I both wondered – are we truly in a recession?
Just today I was talking to a friend about the Bay Area housing market. When I told him that for this year, I am paying $2,800 a month for a 4-bedroom, 2000-square-foot, 10-year old house in a not-so-attractive neighborhood, he said that it was fairly good deal. I have already battled with the landlord on various issues, as he does not want to spend money on professional services, indicating that he himself certainly does not feel well off enough. First I was really indignant, as I am a landlord myself, and have never interfered with my agent doing anything for my tenants in San Diego, even though my house in San Diego is in much better condition and a much better neighborhood. Then I realized that whatever I do for others has no bearing on how others will behave. Suffice to say that my experience in this rental house has not been exactly enjoyable, and I rather dislike the cold weather here – I would much prefer the sunny weather of Palo Alto and further south.
People say that the high property values justify themselves because you get what you pay for – in other words, by living in Bay Area, you get access to a lot of things that you cannot get elsewhere. In a way, in order to enjoy what the famed Bay Area has to offer, one has to seek them proactively – trying all kinds of restaurants, attending various cultural events, skiing at Lake Tahoe, wine-tasting in Napa or Sonoma Valley or Santa Cruz Mountains, hiking around the lakes and hills, etc, all of which cost money. And if one were to live in a less desirable neighborhood in a 50 to 100 year old un-renovated house in order to pay for all these things that Bay Area has to offer, well, that does not seem to be worth it really either, does it?
Therefore, no wonder multi-millionaires in Palo Alto feel rather poor! Michael and I have been discussing where we would like to buy a house in Bay Area within this year. He loves great scenery and terrific views, and can perhaps live in a smaller place, whereas I am used to really spacious house with many rooms, and therefore less insistent on the absolute beauty of the surrounding neighborhood. But both of us want to live in nicely designed and modern homes, with easy commutes. Despite the housing market slowdowns, it looks like that in order to get something that meets most of these criteria, it will cost at least $1.25 million. And it is not even in Palo Alto, the only place where the public schools are good enough for us to send our kid there. In other words, even after paying at least $1.25 million for a house, we will be paying private school tuitions, and NOT be taking advantage of the school district that presumably has contributed to the high property value.
Isn’t the Bay Area housing market ridiculous? Coming from Boston and San Diego, two places that are not exactly considered inexpensive in the United States, I find it shocking.
Then my friend in New York told me that she was about to rent a house that’s slightly bigger than ours for $5,600 a month! She and I both wondered – are we truly in a recession?
Friday, May 29, 2009
Baby Talk
When I said that I wanted to buy a house in Bay Area as quickly as we did in San Diego 7 years ago (we bought a house within a week of arriving in San Diego from Bosto), Michael pointed out that Bay Area was so much more diverse in terms of neighborhoods that we ought to get used to the area first before considering buying. As a result, we rented a house not too far from my office. Since then I have had to battle with the landlord on fixing the low water pressure, the holes in a screen door, as well as ancient washer and dryer. I am now more determined than ever to buy a house within a year, as opposed to keep renting.
Even though this house is only for a year, I still have set aside one room as the nursery for the yet-to-be-born baby. By now I have got a ton of baby stuff, ranging from extremely practical (car seat and stroller) to simply cute (decorations for the nursery). Michael and I have attended a child-birth class, which was full of these “breathing techniques” that I doubt could really work. I have also read quite a few of these books on pregnancy and childbirth. I feel that I have been immersed in “baby talk” for months by now. What I find most challenging is to address enthusiastic questions such as “aren’t you excited?”
Honestly, with very few exceptions, I have not exactly envied the lives of those with kids - as far as I could observe, many people's lives turned worse in more ways than one, in addition to looking more tired, less interested, older and uglier (due to lack of time/interest to pay attention to one's appearance). And I do not have great reason to believe that I would fall into those “exceptions” after the birth of my son. What if I also lose interest in a lot of things, and would rather veg every chance I get? What if my son is difficult, sick or simply fussy? What if I end up talking non-stop about the kid and nothing else? What if I end up a much less interesting and interested person?
Like many things in life, I suppose that one just has to make the plunge, if you do not have a crystal ball to enable you to know everything in advance. Of course I have yet to see anyone regret having kids, so I am positive that even if I turn out to be my worst nightmare because of the kid, I will think then that it’s for the better – that is, I cannot predict how I am going to feel in the future after such a life-changing event. But that remains a somewhat depressing thought – that is, I could end up losing interest, ability or passion for things that have defined me so far.
In chatting with a friend who has two kids, I mentioned my “pregnancy blues”. She said something that made a lot of sense to me. She said, “ babies/kids are inherently positive creatures, because there is nothing negative about them. Watching them grow and laugh itself makes you feel really positive in a visceral way. In professional settings, no matter where you are, you are sure to encounter a lot of things that are inherently negative. Without a strong natural positive force like your own kids, it is quite easy to be affected by these negative things, and it is very easy to lose perspectives, which are actually quite important for a thriving career. One can get really tunnel-visioned, if there is not an irrepressible positive force to balance out the negatives one encounters professionally.” That does make perfect sense – we all have encountered moments to feel tremendously buoyed by uplifting music, image or stories. I suppose nothing can be even more uplifting than seeing your own baby so innocent, so positive and so pure in front of you, demonstrating a force of life that simply cannot be denied. It makes you feel “life” in the most vivid and profound way.
Besides, I am curious to see what he is like. I hope that the name we are giving him turns out to be appropriate for him…
Even though this house is only for a year, I still have set aside one room as the nursery for the yet-to-be-born baby. By now I have got a ton of baby stuff, ranging from extremely practical (car seat and stroller) to simply cute (decorations for the nursery). Michael and I have attended a child-birth class, which was full of these “breathing techniques” that I doubt could really work. I have also read quite a few of these books on pregnancy and childbirth. I feel that I have been immersed in “baby talk” for months by now. What I find most challenging is to address enthusiastic questions such as “aren’t you excited?”
Honestly, with very few exceptions, I have not exactly envied the lives of those with kids - as far as I could observe, many people's lives turned worse in more ways than one, in addition to looking more tired, less interested, older and uglier (due to lack of time/interest to pay attention to one's appearance). And I do not have great reason to believe that I would fall into those “exceptions” after the birth of my son. What if I also lose interest in a lot of things, and would rather veg every chance I get? What if my son is difficult, sick or simply fussy? What if I end up talking non-stop about the kid and nothing else? What if I end up a much less interesting and interested person?
Like many things in life, I suppose that one just has to make the plunge, if you do not have a crystal ball to enable you to know everything in advance. Of course I have yet to see anyone regret having kids, so I am positive that even if I turn out to be my worst nightmare because of the kid, I will think then that it’s for the better – that is, I cannot predict how I am going to feel in the future after such a life-changing event. But that remains a somewhat depressing thought – that is, I could end up losing interest, ability or passion for things that have defined me so far.
In chatting with a friend who has two kids, I mentioned my “pregnancy blues”. She said something that made a lot of sense to me. She said, “ babies/kids are inherently positive creatures, because there is nothing negative about them. Watching them grow and laugh itself makes you feel really positive in a visceral way. In professional settings, no matter where you are, you are sure to encounter a lot of things that are inherently negative. Without a strong natural positive force like your own kids, it is quite easy to be affected by these negative things, and it is very easy to lose perspectives, which are actually quite important for a thriving career. One can get really tunnel-visioned, if there is not an irrepressible positive force to balance out the negatives one encounters professionally.” That does make perfect sense – we all have encountered moments to feel tremendously buoyed by uplifting music, image or stories. I suppose nothing can be even more uplifting than seeing your own baby so innocent, so positive and so pure in front of you, demonstrating a force of life that simply cannot be denied. It makes you feel “life” in the most vivid and profound way.
Besides, I am curious to see what he is like. I hope that the name we are giving him turns out to be appropriate for him…
All About My Mother
Pedro Almodovar is one of my favorite directors. Almost without exceptions, his movies showcase strong, vivacious and interesting leading female characters overcoming hardships and challenges frequently caused by the weak, irresponsible and somewhat shabby male characters in their lives. I do wonder what the Spanish men think of his movies…
Of his movies, “All About My Mother” is not necessarily the best, but the title has led me to ponder the possibility of writing about my own mother one of these days. In fact, I think everyone should enter into a writing contest under this title. A great ensemble feature film can be made out of the best stories. After all, don’t we all have very interesting mothers?
My mother just arrived two weeks ago in Bay Area from Beijing to help me with the upcoming arrival of this baby boy. Since the baby has not come out, for the past two weeks, my mom has taken up all housework. She’s someone who absolutely hates being idle more than anything else. Since she does not drive and does not speak English, it is quite a challenge for me to find enough activities to engage her.
Fortunately, the rental house I have is close to a lot of shops, including an Asian super market, where my mom likes to buy fresh groceries on her own. She gets up early in the morning and exercises in the backyard. She brought a set of exercise tools from Beijing – a performance sword and some gadgets that look like that they belong to a magic show or an acrobatics show. Michael was highly amused to see my mom perform in the back yard. I must say that I am just glad that our back yard is not exposed to the street! Since she’s a pretty good cook, I have had people over for dinner a few times. About every two days she will spend a few hours cooking a feast. In fact, the day after she arrived from Beijing, we had 3 people over for dinner, and my mom spent half of a day cooking, whereas my guests felt that it was a bit too demanding. She loves talking so much – I thought I liked talking, but compared to my mom, I am actually quite reticent! When we went over to a friend’s place, she talked practically the whole time, and I was exhausted just listening!
Just within the past two weeks, I have taken her to many different famous hiking trails around the peninsula, and we would walk for an hour or two at a time. In a way, because of her, I have become more physically active as well. I also have a need to discover new scenic places and new hiking trails. During the hike, she would comment on the flora and the fauna around, tell me about her friends or our relatives’ latest news, make observations on people walking by, etc. She loves the scenery around San Andreas Lake as well as Crystal Springs Reservoir, and she thoroughly enjoyed visiting Half Moon Bay. By comparison, she was not so impressed by downtown San Francisco (“as a city, it’s not as impressive as New York”), or Berkeley (“it’s an okay campus but not as beautiful as Princeton”).
With Michael being so busy starting his faculty job, I am the one that she talks to the most on a daily basis. I asked my cousin and another friend to call my mom periodically to chat, as in the daytime she could occasionally find herself with nothing to do except for watching TV or reading novels. When I thanked my cousin for calling my mom up, I told him how much my mom loved talking and how she could not stop talking. His wry response was, “like mother, like daughter.”
Indeed, as I get older, I am beginning to realize how much I am like my mother, even though both my mother and I have always believed that we are very different. I guess I should credit her for my strengths, and I can also blame her for my weaknesses! Like her, I cannot stand boredom, although we find different things interesting. Like her, I am irreverent and even a bit rebellious towards authority or convention, although she claims correctly that she’s paid a lot more attention to manners than before. Like her, I can be impatient and quick-tempered, although she’s become much more patient in her old age. Like her, I am overall disciplined and pragmatic, although I am still probably still more sentimental than she is. Like her, I care passionately about people I love, perhaps to the point of annoying them. Like her, my strong will has led me to accomplish things that are considered challenging, but has also caused me some unnecessary troubles. Like her, my eagerness to help/change people I love has sometimes led to resistance or even resentment - in some cases, I eventually have been proven right, but in others, it has become a completely lost cause.
Knowing “All About My Mother”, I think to myself, do I mind turning out to be more like her in the future, now that I will become a mother myself shortly?
Of his movies, “All About My Mother” is not necessarily the best, but the title has led me to ponder the possibility of writing about my own mother one of these days. In fact, I think everyone should enter into a writing contest under this title. A great ensemble feature film can be made out of the best stories. After all, don’t we all have very interesting mothers?
My mother just arrived two weeks ago in Bay Area from Beijing to help me with the upcoming arrival of this baby boy. Since the baby has not come out, for the past two weeks, my mom has taken up all housework. She’s someone who absolutely hates being idle more than anything else. Since she does not drive and does not speak English, it is quite a challenge for me to find enough activities to engage her.
Fortunately, the rental house I have is close to a lot of shops, including an Asian super market, where my mom likes to buy fresh groceries on her own. She gets up early in the morning and exercises in the backyard. She brought a set of exercise tools from Beijing – a performance sword and some gadgets that look like that they belong to a magic show or an acrobatics show. Michael was highly amused to see my mom perform in the back yard. I must say that I am just glad that our back yard is not exposed to the street! Since she’s a pretty good cook, I have had people over for dinner a few times. About every two days she will spend a few hours cooking a feast. In fact, the day after she arrived from Beijing, we had 3 people over for dinner, and my mom spent half of a day cooking, whereas my guests felt that it was a bit too demanding. She loves talking so much – I thought I liked talking, but compared to my mom, I am actually quite reticent! When we went over to a friend’s place, she talked practically the whole time, and I was exhausted just listening!
Just within the past two weeks, I have taken her to many different famous hiking trails around the peninsula, and we would walk for an hour or two at a time. In a way, because of her, I have become more physically active as well. I also have a need to discover new scenic places and new hiking trails. During the hike, she would comment on the flora and the fauna around, tell me about her friends or our relatives’ latest news, make observations on people walking by, etc. She loves the scenery around San Andreas Lake as well as Crystal Springs Reservoir, and she thoroughly enjoyed visiting Half Moon Bay. By comparison, she was not so impressed by downtown San Francisco (“as a city, it’s not as impressive as New York”), or Berkeley (“it’s an okay campus but not as beautiful as Princeton”).
With Michael being so busy starting his faculty job, I am the one that she talks to the most on a daily basis. I asked my cousin and another friend to call my mom periodically to chat, as in the daytime she could occasionally find herself with nothing to do except for watching TV or reading novels. When I thanked my cousin for calling my mom up, I told him how much my mom loved talking and how she could not stop talking. His wry response was, “like mother, like daughter.”
Indeed, as I get older, I am beginning to realize how much I am like my mother, even though both my mother and I have always believed that we are very different. I guess I should credit her for my strengths, and I can also blame her for my weaknesses! Like her, I cannot stand boredom, although we find different things interesting. Like her, I am irreverent and even a bit rebellious towards authority or convention, although she claims correctly that she’s paid a lot more attention to manners than before. Like her, I can be impatient and quick-tempered, although she’s become much more patient in her old age. Like her, I am overall disciplined and pragmatic, although I am still probably still more sentimental than she is. Like her, I care passionately about people I love, perhaps to the point of annoying them. Like her, my strong will has led me to accomplish things that are considered challenging, but has also caused me some unnecessary troubles. Like her, my eagerness to help/change people I love has sometimes led to resistance or even resentment - in some cases, I eventually have been proven right, but in others, it has become a completely lost cause.
Knowing “All About My Mother”, I think to myself, do I mind turning out to be more like her in the future, now that I will become a mother myself shortly?
I Now Have Cable TV!
Many people did not believe it, but I have never had cable TV at home. Michael is a fanatical opponent of the cable TV industry, claiming that it is a complete waste of time as it makes you glued to the TV watching programs or movies that you otherwise would not watch if you had no cable TV. As a result, for years we would go see movies of our choosing in the theater or rent from video stores on a weekly basis.
Now that we just moved into a rental house in Bay Area from San Diego, and I will be in my confinement (euphemistically) for a few months due to the baby, I decided that I would get cable TV for a few months to see if my brain really will turn into a big marshmellow.
It has only been a few days since the cable TV was installed. It is true that I would never sit down in the family room to watch TV if there is anything better or more useful to do, but I do turn it on at night in the bedroom before I go to sleep. I can definitely see Michael’s point of view, as it takes a while just to find anything worth watching, and even then it is probably something not really worth watching. The convenient access to that program or movie is the major factor for watching it. Because of the commercials, I find myself (like others) flipping through channels, which means that I rarely watch any movie that I have not seen before – as I otherwise will not be able to follow the plot. I also find myself less inclined to do some reading in bed at night like I previously would do – so cable TV has made me lazier, and dumber perhaps. But I have a good excuse - now that I am so much heavier and less mobile, I am less energetic, mentally and physically than before. I now weigh 145 pounds, which according to my height is fairly normal for someone about to give birth, but considering that it’s a 45% weight increase, I am amazed that my legs could even support myself! I still occasionally wake up in the morning, forgetting how much heavier I am now, only to discover to my surprise that I can’t easily jump out of bed as light as a bird!
The other day, “Four Weddings and A Funeral” was on one of those channels. It was so long ago that I saw it that I forgot most of it. What caught my attention this time was the poem by W.H. Auden read at the funeral – “Funeral Blues”. Clearly the first time I watched the movie, which must have been 15 years ago (i.e. not too long after I arrived in the US), my English was not good enough for me to appreciate the poem. It is so beautiful and powerful:
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; For nothing now can ever come to any good.”
While Michael insists that cable TV leaves people’s brains “fried” and "unchallenged" and I do endorse his view, I am happy that the accidental glimpse of this British comedy starring the effeminate and annoying Hugh Grant has led me to read a little about W. H. Auden, and also this beautiful elegy. – So having cable is not all bad…
Now that we just moved into a rental house in Bay Area from San Diego, and I will be in my confinement (euphemistically) for a few months due to the baby, I decided that I would get cable TV for a few months to see if my brain really will turn into a big marshmellow.
It has only been a few days since the cable TV was installed. It is true that I would never sit down in the family room to watch TV if there is anything better or more useful to do, but I do turn it on at night in the bedroom before I go to sleep. I can definitely see Michael’s point of view, as it takes a while just to find anything worth watching, and even then it is probably something not really worth watching. The convenient access to that program or movie is the major factor for watching it. Because of the commercials, I find myself (like others) flipping through channels, which means that I rarely watch any movie that I have not seen before – as I otherwise will not be able to follow the plot. I also find myself less inclined to do some reading in bed at night like I previously would do – so cable TV has made me lazier, and dumber perhaps. But I have a good excuse - now that I am so much heavier and less mobile, I am less energetic, mentally and physically than before. I now weigh 145 pounds, which according to my height is fairly normal for someone about to give birth, but considering that it’s a 45% weight increase, I am amazed that my legs could even support myself! I still occasionally wake up in the morning, forgetting how much heavier I am now, only to discover to my surprise that I can’t easily jump out of bed as light as a bird!
The other day, “Four Weddings and A Funeral” was on one of those channels. It was so long ago that I saw it that I forgot most of it. What caught my attention this time was the poem by W.H. Auden read at the funeral – “Funeral Blues”. Clearly the first time I watched the movie, which must have been 15 years ago (i.e. not too long after I arrived in the US), my English was not good enough for me to appreciate the poem. It is so beautiful and powerful:
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; For nothing now can ever come to any good.”
While Michael insists that cable TV leaves people’s brains “fried” and "unchallenged" and I do endorse his view, I am happy that the accidental glimpse of this British comedy starring the effeminate and annoying Hugh Grant has led me to read a little about W. H. Auden, and also this beautiful elegy. – So having cable is not all bad…
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