Archive for March, 2009
I’m surprised it took me awhile to finally write this, but here it is - one of the things I’ll always, ALWAYS be thankful for are children and young adult fiction books. I know that many people immediately roll their eyes and think that I’m going to gush about the number of accolades given to Harry Potter, but the truth of the matter is I’ve always been an avid fan of children and young adult fiction.
I remember curling up in the crevices of the couch at home on a weekend, or lounging near the sunbeams with a book in my hand. I read and re-read my favorite stories as though they were friends that you called upon for a happy reunion or an afternoon visit. My favorite plots and picture books are engrained in my mind, possibly more deeply than any television show or movie. I recall the random adventures of the Babysitters Club, the Boxcar Children, and I can recount the first time I delighted in the adventures of the Dealing with Dragons series. I imagined what it would be like to visit a chocolate factory, have my brain teeming with telepathic power and I’ve traveled to Alien worlds and beyond.
Although as an adult I should consume more literary novels and discuss the social impact that certain works have upon society, it’s hard not to indulge in an easy, accessible and silly book. I can think of nothing better than letting my brain soak in the simple sentences that weave a fantasy story as I get ready to drift off into sleep. It’s this inspiration that I gleaned that I hope to one day instill upon another - I can only hope I have the talent and capacity. In the meantime, I’m just grateful for what those authors have given me.
Sundays mean different things to different people. For some, it might mean the beginning of a work day. For others, it might mean a day of blissful relaxation. Then there are those who think of Sunday as a day for church and worship. For me, Sunday has always been a day of preparation and productivity. Although there were many Sunday mornings and afternoons taken up in the past by church and Chinese school, Sundays were hardly a day for sleeping in and doing nothing.
This Sunday I set about making sure my place was ready for guests. I’ve been anticipating the arrival of my friends for awhile now, and I hoped to make my place at least somewhat respectable. Whereas my normal habits allow for dust bunnies to hop around and gather, I finally rolled up my sleeves and did some cleaning. Additionally, I did a major load of laundry.
Laundry was never an onerous task back at home. I would shuffle to the little room that housed our machines, throw in dirty clothes, then shuffle back to the living room to continue watching television or engrossing myself in a book. These days, laundry isn’t just a chore - it’s a whole adventure. The preparation it takes to get the clothes up two blocks and over one feels like a nature hike, not to mention the stress of finding enough coins or cash to make sure I can tumble dry everything.
After two hours of waiting, sorting, folding - it’s nice to sit back and take a look at everything nicely and neatly organized. My socks have found companions once more, and my shirts no longer looks like crumpled afterthoughts on the floor. As much as I complain about the whole ridiculous process, something as small and simple as laundry makes me give a little mental nod of approval to myself. Even though I grouse and groan about it - I’m glad that I make the trek to do the laundry. Those extra steps and haul up a hill just make the end result of the task just a little sweeter.
In an era where things move at lightning speed, it’s almost hard to fathom how people lived their lives. I used to ponder during history class how it must have felt like living by the glow of candlelight and then growing up to an age of halogen lights. What did it feel like to watch the roads slowly populate with moving vehicles? Although I’m always in awe of the discoveries we continue to make today, even the fact that I “grew up” with Internet in slow development makes me feel a little old.
One thing that I really, TRULY appreciated was when I found myself sneezing, congested, and utterly miserable on Saturday. My throat hurt and my head throbbed, and overall I felt like curling up under the blankets and sleeping the whole weekend. It’s always funny to me how my mood alters when my body feel a little out of whack. And, sometimes I can barely remember what it felt like to be completely normal and healthy.
I went back home after dinner and took some medicine and aspirin, which slowly relieved a little bit of the pressure on my throbbing sinus and headache. As I curled up on the couch the last hour or two before my own self-imposed bedtime, I couldn’t help but be grateful for the mere fact that I live in a time where technology is not only moving at breakneck speeds, but to be living in the era of modern medicine. Not only are there treatments for diseases that were once infinitesimally more fatal, these days we don’t need to suffer through headaches quietly.
Thank you, neurotransmitter blocking drugs.
I went to a happy hour with some friends after work and I was quite astounded at the pretty good deals. It might have been a little too long since my last happy hour, but basically the drinks and appetizer plates were all a whopping $4 (when the normal unhappy hour price would be close to $10-$12). Although the happy hour prices might have been around for years, the multitude of “FOR SALE” and “DISCOUNT” signs are definitely noticeable around the city. Everywhere, it seems, is on ‘recession special’ (as one friend coined it).
Although it’s a very difficult time for many, a part of me can’t help but think that we ought to count our blessings in the midst of all this chatter about ‘the next great depression’ and ‘the economic disaster.’ I can’t speak for many of my peers, but I find that it’s so simple to take things for granted when the barometer of economic healthiness is pointed to great. We think that we’re entitled to wealth without work, and we are content to just take the easy route.
Some people say that it feels depressing now that fewer people are going out - but on the other hand, the time and money that was once spent on frivolous drinks and expensive dinners can now be replaced with home-cooked meals and REAL time spent with one another. In a time where things are really dire, I think that is where the true colors and strength of people shine through. I am confident that things won’t stay like this forever. In the meantime, while we weather the storm brewing around us, I’m happy to know that I’m not the only one trying to hold up an umbrella.
I’ve always poked fun at my friend for being a “mouth janitor” (read: dentist) and I thought about her when I made an appointment recently. It’s funny to me because dentists always seemed to have it a little more difficult than other medical professions. I am sure my friend is constantly reminded that people in her career field are notorious for the most amount of suicides, and lots of people make snide remarks of it being akin to “med school dropouts.” Believe me, when I looked at the flashcards and books she had to read, they are FAR from any type of dropout or reject.
At any rate, I started to also think about how dental hygiene is different in so many different cultures. There was also a progression in how dental hygiene was valued - in other words, it was virtually nonexistent in the past. But just like how I was very thankful for showers, I’m very thankful for dentists.
As odd as it may sound, I’m just glad that gingivitis is one disease I won’t have to worry about thanks to regular checkups. And that’s kind of nice to know.
On my way home today I spotted two kids basically clinging to each other like koala bears. Both the guy and the girl had their arms wrapped around each other, like any “adorable” little couple. Except they looked like they belonged in sixth grade.
Although some people might think “aw, how cute, look at their puppy love crush” … I think my first instinct would be to pull them apart and tell them to go play Monopoly and video games and stop with all that nonsense.
For crying out loud, they’re basically BABIES.
Apparently I’m getting crotchety too. Sigh.
I can’t deny that I absolutely hate the #1 bus. Granted, I took the bus to work and back for a greater portion of last year, but that was until I discovered a similar mode of transportation that did not raise my blood pressure as much as it does during the morning and evening mad rush. Before taking the trolley to work, I hated the multitude of people who crammed themselves into ever crevice possible of the bus crowd. There were countless people who elbowed their way into my personal space, and it’s difficult for a short person (such as myself) to hold onto the bar overhead.
Today, after missing the trolley, I begrudgingly took the #1 bus again. It was later in the day, around 7:30 p.m. Surely most of the financial district workers had already taken an earlier bus home, right?
Wrong. Once again, I was reminded why I hated the sardine can known as the #1 bus. But this time, it was as though I was immediately transported to the third and a half level of hell. I was not only trapped with an insane amount of people in a little metal vehicle - but some of those people (and I know I should not judge) had … hygienic problems. Yes, I was stuck with people who had body odor. And worse.
While I could feel my crabbiness slowly peak, I thought about the task that I had given myself - so what better time then that frustrating moment to think of something I am thankful for? The bus? No, not really. Body odor? Ugh, definitely not. Then, it dawned on me.
I am so very thankful for showers. I’m thankful that I live in a place where a shower everyday is, well, seen as the norm. I can’t imagine what it would be like living back in the more primitive days where a bath was seen as a special occasion, or even something strange. I’m glad I don’t usually feel as though I have a few layers of dirt on me - more than anything, I’m glad that I have a shower I can go to when I need it. Although I’m certain there are people who would argue that if I were born in an era where being dirty was the norm and you’d just get “used to the smell,” I am thankful for being born in the modern day era of showers.
And really, I’m even more grateful for the people who DO shower.
The funny thing about this little task that I have given myself for these few days is the mere fact that not only do I force myself to reflect each day on something I am thankful for, but I feel a familiar nagging feeling in the back of my mind – guilt. Although it sounds strange, today I suddenly realized that in a somewhat masochistic way, we should all be thankful when we feel guilt.
It’s not because I was born with the inherent penchant to feel bad about everything given that I am an Asian woman who was raised Catholic – it’s because remorse is the little alarm bell that your subconscious Jiminy Cricket rings when you know you should be doing something productive. I’m glad that I have this little internal moral barometer. Even though it tears me up inside like it does to most people (and more so to people such as myself) it makes you realize that your upbringing and your sense of right and wrong is still there.
I’ve heard that it’s often chilling to meet criminals in person. It’s not because they have some sort of growth on their face that gives it away that they are a monster – but more the fact that they feel no remorse. They don’t feel bad about the things they have done to rip apart the lives of others. They feel justified in every selfish act, and often feel wronged, and a sense of entitlement. Inevitably, I feel that people who do not have a sense of guilt or moral compass often find themselves ostracized from a greater portion of society.
I can’t help but bring this up: much like Voldemort from Harry Potter, not being able to feel remorse and guilt is almost akin to not being human. And yes, I do admit I am a bit regretful that I threw in a Harry Potter reference. But not that bad.
A friend of mine asked me if I would like to go along with her and her cousin to a movie at the San Francisco Asian American Film Festival. I agreed because I admit I was rather curious about the movie, and because I have never attended a film festival before. To make a long and arduous story short, the movie ended up not being quite up to par with the other movies I have seen in my life.
Granted, it was supposed to be “thoughtful” and the lack of action sequences and explosions did make more artistically mature. However, it was still just a rather daunting experience (or rather, one of the longest hour and twenty minutes of my life). In any case, as strange as it sounds it made me think about movies in general. Although it sounds strange, I’m very thankful for movies.
As a child, teenager, and adult (sigh) I’ve always been entranced by movies and how it is not only entertainment, but sometimes a whole experience. Sometimes it throttles our emotions, sometimes it tugs at our heartstrings. It makes us laugh, it makes us cry, and more than anything most of the time we feel entertained.
Even though my intellect is not enriched by the latest Bruce Willis shoot ‘em up as he tears across the city causing mayhem, I can appreciate all the time it spent to create a piece. There were people who wrote it, people who acted, shot the film, edited, and marketed the piece. It’s something we can talk about at the water cooler or bond over in casual conversation. Quite simply, movies are about bringing people together. It’s about showing the different sides of each of us. Our taste and preferences in movies tells us something about one another, and I can’t count the amount of times I bonded with a stranger over a movie. Movies reflect our inner ideals, dreams, desires, and imaginations.
