An Elusive Declaration of Love

It is odd to say that as a writer, I am a person of few words. Or rather I choose my words in a very Joycean way - thinking much too hard to make sure the message is conveyed exactly the way it is supposed to be. (Note: I actually loathe Joyce with a passion.)

So when it came to our wedding my husband had asked me to say a few words at the reception. I never thought too much of it, waiting for my stream-of-consciousness to come up with something in my stead. Even the day before there was nothing. A good friend told me to just think about the very anatomical structure of our relationship - especially since I cannot be as extensively expressive as him.

Also, I shouldn't "wing it" when it came to an event like this.  Very faux pas. Even for me.
I knew I only had one thought that was short and simple. As well as something I tell him now and again in jest.

Yet in the end I only mouthed an the unaudible "Thank You" because my voice simply could not work when I wanted that day.

Tears are like a yawn - once you do, everyone does and it's simply a wreck of a moment.

So instead I'll tell you two months from then.

As a child I had once told myself I would meet the person I would marry in college. It's strange how that came true. When I met you I saw something in you. Even when you were erasing Gundamnium from a periodic table all those years ago.  

I saw that you would go very far with whatever you did.

And I wanted to be there to see it when you did. 

You have gone incredibly far indeed.

And I'm glad that I will always be there to witness whatever you still have left to do.

Natural Uneasiness

via Our Amazing Planet

Perhaps it's New England nostalgia, but I love summer thunderstorms.  And you can tell when one is coming when the humidity and heat is so unbareable that something has to give. The air feels disturbingly calm like a predictable horror movie moment that should just happen already because  you are expecting it. 

And in New York City it's a rare occassion that thrills me with unusual joy when one is coming.

It's a thrill that leaves you on edge and excited. It's a thrill that leaves you awestruck and fearfully intimidated knowing that something is more powerful than you and in control.

But when they are not the rolling ones like in New England that come and go -- when they have gone on too long -- I can't do anything else but count the long minutes until it's over.  It's true about the feeling of jumping out of your skin.  The humid air is so electrically charged and that when lightening strikes you can swear you feel it in every joint and every vein.

You are afraid to move from your position, in case something bad will happen otherwise

It's a nervousness that can only end when you see that flash of lightening and the relieving sound of thunder. Like clockwork work they tell you the coming to the end of the storm. But when it keeps going it's like the slow drag of a movie that hasn't reached the high point of the plot yet. 

And you really want it to end.

Turning Japanese

My husband has a name that sounds Japanese. In the months preceding our marriage, we often joke that if either one of us was mistaken for Japanese they would be wrong. In fact, he is of mixed European descent, and I am pure Chinese.

Of course I have never felt very Chinese to begin with.

My eyes have folds, an uncommon but lucky trait. I can’t hold a conversation in either Cantonese or Mandarin to save my life. I purposely flunked out of Chinese school to watch Saturday morning cartoons. In high school, I was thankful for the C+ I got in college-prep level Chem. And when it came to a college career, the thought of majoring in business gave me panic attacks.

So I majored in writing

(In a strange twist of irony my Chinese name means something along the lines of “wise poet.”)

Taking on your husband name is often a big debate. There are many reasons for “for” and “against,” but finding the answer is never the right one for you.  Yet there are very few answers regarding taking a husband’s last name when you are of Asian descent, and his name only sounds Asian. 

In fact there are absolutely zero.

Which left me with the dilemma: should I keep the name I was born with or to play a giant practical joke on the world to have an ethnic name to which I have no relation?

As a result I felt a bit confused myself. And then there were times I wondered if I was more Japanese than Chinese.

When I crave food, I crave ramen, real ramen. I have more friends who speak Japanese than Chinese.  I go to more Japanese-related events than Asian-American festivals. Our DVD library is composed of mainly anime we hardly watch anymore. Lolita fashion, a Japanese fashion style has helped me find long-lasting friendships since I first moved to New York City. We have more reasons,  connections, and opportunities for us to travel to Japan than China/Hong Kong.

In the end I chose to hyphenate to differentiate between the two. There are so many experiences that have changed and shaped who I am today that I can’t bear to give up.  There are times I wonder if I should change it completely because that's just the way things should be.

But for now, after one month of being married there's still some time to get used it.

And it does have a nice ring to it.

Breaking Routine

Pigeons are funny city birds. They roost in any awning-like structure they can. When in groups (and not being fed breadcrumbs) they are terrifying just bobbing their heads mind their own business and your unsure of their next motive.  And if you're not careful they will ruin your new glasses that you just bought.

However this is a pigeon that was by my apartment door.  Usually pigeons react skittishly when people approach them. Only when they see you as non-threatening do they return to their business.

This one did neither. I even took a picture with my phone as proof of the oddity. With zoom. No movement. It stayed in the corner.

Back in college I had my own method of writing - as in I would finish everything that could potentially distract me (homework, cleaning room, eating, etc) so I could focus all my concentration on writing.

Unfortunately, while this was unbelievable simple in college it is nearly impossible to do in the adult world.

So like this pigeon, I am breaking routine and try to write when I can.