I'm sure the next time I get to see you'll once again look different. But I still have to give you credit as the baby that changed my view on babies. I think I had this phase where I really hated babies, they just disgusted me beyond belief. The pinkish alien looks of newborns covered in grossness literally made me want to vomit. Hence the constant hiding in my mom's office whenever I visit her at work, heaven forbid what would happen if I happened to catch a glimpse of a newborn. Even after that initial phase of grossness I had a strong dislike for the parasitic tendencies of babies and small children. People always tell me that will change one day, you know 'when the clock starts ticking' or I have a kid of my own... all the while almost forcing me to hold their babies. (Talk about awkward!)
I actually don't even remember seeing you at your one month celebration, probably because you were so quiet and good. You definitely were around Christmas time, though all I remember is you sleeping in your carrier. Then 5 months passed and there you were resembling a human, and a very happy one too. I never expected to have to babysit you, as everyone in the family knows that is not my forte. But there we were just the two of us. Now of course you wouldn't let things be easy and smooth sailing, especially with your teething cookie. I suppose teething is a somewhat painful process... but you didn't cry. In fact you were smiling away and probably laughing at me. As you bit off a part of your cookie and kept it in your mouth.
I don't know who's idea it was to give you that cookie, but I did know one thing a big chunk of cookie could be choked on. The challenge now was to get the cookie out, but you wouldn't open your mouth no matter what I tried (so stubborn). I think I tried everything, even calling a friend halfway across the world to help with some creative problem solving (I don't think he actually picked up... which is probably a good thing looking back because engineering problem solving can be a tad mechanical) But you had a mind of your own, and just as I was at the end of my ropes and ready to call my mom to have a mental breakdown you calmly spat your piece of mush out. Just like that. Then a big happy grin.
If you weren't so cute I probably would've torn out even more hair than I had in frustration. But that's just it... you reminded me that babies often just don't know better. And holding my own perfectionist views on them wouldn't change anything, except maybe give me more white hairs. I think you made me turn all soft *sigh* which is a good thing for all the babies that have since crossed my path. Gone are the days where I've thrown out my bracelets after getting baby drool on them...
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
three: teacher, mentor, friend
This one goes back quite a while... and has been shortened to omit my personal details.
We met when I was going through the turmoils of adolescence. Seeing you every Thursday evening was a welcoming routine. Even the nights when I dreaded having to face you with nothing to show for. You never got mad, though most people in your situation would be. There you were devoting your time, giving 100% of your effort. With your patience I eventually learned some practice ethic, which has paid off in ways I never expected. While you taught me the techniques of how to memorize pieces and how to cheat when notes were too far apart for my hands, those lessons paled in comparison to lessons after lessons.
Having the last lesson of the night was almost a guarantee things would never start on time, nor would they ever end on time. Ending on time would've been a shame though because I really looked forward to our glasses of juice and chats. We almost never talked about piano, and you had a way of listening and questioning me that really validated me. You were one of the few people I felt I could share my dreams and passions with, and you always encouraged me to chase after them. I was always surprised how by that time of night you could still have the energy to care, and how that would rub off on me. I don't remember ever leaving your house without being blessed in some way.
Then cancer happened. Though most people would never be able to tell if they just met you on the street. Your optimism was ever more fiery and you seemed just as energetic as ever. Even after the intense chemo sessions, you would always be looking out for your students. When you couldn't teach you would enlist the best teacher you knew. He was your perfect match and getting to know the two of you was like a real life love story. I was so touched to see you both at my graduation, even though I had already pulled the plug on my piano playing. You looked so beautiful that day, especially since you left the wig at home and let the few bits of hair reclaim their territory. Your gift was such an inspirational read, that I still have it on my shelf when I need some reminders that miracles still happen.
Part of me always thought you would be able to beat the cancer, because if anyone deserved to it was you. Saying goodbye was especially hard, even knowing (and hoping) that one day I would see you again. Maybe when that happens I can tell you all the stories of my dreams fulfilled. I was so lucky to be a small part of your life, as you were so much more than a teacher. Every time I pull out my old scores of music to give them a whirl I'm reminded of a happy time and a safe place.
We met when I was going through the turmoils of adolescence. Seeing you every Thursday evening was a welcoming routine. Even the nights when I dreaded having to face you with nothing to show for. You never got mad, though most people in your situation would be. There you were devoting your time, giving 100% of your effort. With your patience I eventually learned some practice ethic, which has paid off in ways I never expected. While you taught me the techniques of how to memorize pieces and how to cheat when notes were too far apart for my hands, those lessons paled in comparison to lessons after lessons.
Having the last lesson of the night was almost a guarantee things would never start on time, nor would they ever end on time. Ending on time would've been a shame though because I really looked forward to our glasses of juice and chats. We almost never talked about piano, and you had a way of listening and questioning me that really validated me. You were one of the few people I felt I could share my dreams and passions with, and you always encouraged me to chase after them. I was always surprised how by that time of night you could still have the energy to care, and how that would rub off on me. I don't remember ever leaving your house without being blessed in some way.
Then cancer happened. Though most people would never be able to tell if they just met you on the street. Your optimism was ever more fiery and you seemed just as energetic as ever. Even after the intense chemo sessions, you would always be looking out for your students. When you couldn't teach you would enlist the best teacher you knew. He was your perfect match and getting to know the two of you was like a real life love story. I was so touched to see you both at my graduation, even though I had already pulled the plug on my piano playing. You looked so beautiful that day, especially since you left the wig at home and let the few bits of hair reclaim their territory. Your gift was such an inspirational read, that I still have it on my shelf when I need some reminders that miracles still happen.
Part of me always thought you would be able to beat the cancer, because if anyone deserved to it was you. Saying goodbye was especially hard, even knowing (and hoping) that one day I would see you again. Maybe when that happens I can tell you all the stories of my dreams fulfilled. I was so lucky to be a small part of your life, as you were so much more than a teacher. Every time I pull out my old scores of music to give them a whirl I'm reminded of a happy time and a safe place.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
two: it's a small world after all
It may seem weird that I don't even remember two's name, but it's probably for the best because patient confidentiality is kind of a big deal.
She was really just like any other patient on floor four, older, fragile, and not exactly thrilled about being at the hospital. On first glance I would not have given her any extra attention besides the obligated smile when asking her if she needed anything extra. I think it was just one of those days... I was tired from a full day of classes and my mind was full of other things. Then she asked me if I was Chinese, which oddly enough is a question I get asked quite often. Some days it annoys me to the point where I want to blurt out somethign sarcastic, and other days I just don't care.
That day I humoured her and told her I was, which lead to another question I also seem to get quite often. She asked me if I know so-and-so, and even after I said no she went on to tell me the story of how they met. The story was actually quite touching, with their chance encounter beginning at the airport and turning into a beneficial relationship for both. One was the mentoring mother figure and the other was the vulnerable foreign student. She finished off her story by saying she had not been in contact with said person for a while due to many different circumstances and was saddened by that notion. From the way it sounded, and the lack of flowers and cards in the room, it seemed she did not have a lot of people in the city who cared enough to know she was in the hospital, or let alone visit her.
By then I had already figured out I was probably within one degree of separation of the girl she wished to contact. So I mentioned that fact, and she asked me if I could inform the girl of that situation. Such a simple request. I said I would try, but honestly didn't give it much thought because after all it was just another event in a very long day. Of course even when I don't plan things out, things that are meant to be will still happen. That girl happened to go to an event at my church that week... she had no idea her mentor was in the hospital.
The following Thursday the older lady was still at the hospital, and this time I made a point to stop by her room to talk to her. She was so happy she was able to be reunited with her friend. It seemed so simple and genuine. I guess sometimes it is the little things that make people happy, and I hope that I can be one of those people who find happiness in the little things.
She was really just like any other patient on floor four, older, fragile, and not exactly thrilled about being at the hospital. On first glance I would not have given her any extra attention besides the obligated smile when asking her if she needed anything extra. I think it was just one of those days... I was tired from a full day of classes and my mind was full of other things. Then she asked me if I was Chinese, which oddly enough is a question I get asked quite often. Some days it annoys me to the point where I want to blurt out somethign sarcastic, and other days I just don't care.
That day I humoured her and told her I was, which lead to another question I also seem to get quite often. She asked me if I know so-and-so, and even after I said no she went on to tell me the story of how they met. The story was actually quite touching, with their chance encounter beginning at the airport and turning into a beneficial relationship for both. One was the mentoring mother figure and the other was the vulnerable foreign student. She finished off her story by saying she had not been in contact with said person for a while due to many different circumstances and was saddened by that notion. From the way it sounded, and the lack of flowers and cards in the room, it seemed she did not have a lot of people in the city who cared enough to know she was in the hospital, or let alone visit her.
By then I had already figured out I was probably within one degree of separation of the girl she wished to contact. So I mentioned that fact, and she asked me if I could inform the girl of that situation. Such a simple request. I said I would try, but honestly didn't give it much thought because after all it was just another event in a very long day. Of course even when I don't plan things out, things that are meant to be will still happen. That girl happened to go to an event at my church that week... she had no idea her mentor was in the hospital.
The following Thursday the older lady was still at the hospital, and this time I made a point to stop by her room to talk to her. She was so happy she was able to be reunited with her friend. It seemed so simple and genuine. I guess sometimes it is the little things that make people happy, and I hope that I can be one of those people who find happiness in the little things.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
ONE
It was definitely a toss up for the number one slot, the two possible options have been an integral part of my life since it began. I finally decided to pick my number one based on the fact I would not be here today if it were not for her. Funny thing is, we never expected to enter each other lives especially during such a hectic time as writing a master's thesis and planning a trip of a lifetime to see the World Expo.
I'm sorry the World Expo didn't end up working out because of me, but who knows maybe we can do Shanghai in 2010. This time the only thing that may cause nausea for you may be the interesting assortment of food available. I'm sure that was only one of many dreams you had that you put on hold for me. I don't really understand why, especially since our relationship seems to be quite unbalanced. For the past 21 years there has definitely been a lot more giving by you than by me. Perhaps one day when I have my own bundle of joy I will be able to understand you better.
My memories of you are quite vague for most of the beginning of our relationship, but the scrapbooks you have lovingly put together give me glimpse of what was. I do remember many nights in your bed talking until I fell asleep, and somehow every morning I would wake up in my own bed. You taught me how to listen by listening to everything I've had to say, from my baby babble to my frustrations towards growing up.
Your love for people was shown through and through when you would go above and beyond what was expected of you. Sometimes that frustrated me when I would want to go home early, but you would want to stay late so you could see all your patients. I only wish I could be so generous with my time. It's not that you never encouraged me to be giving like that, but it doesn't seem to come so naturally to me...
Most of all your love for God, and hearing the stories of how you've changed are truly a blessing for me. I can't even fathom many of the hardships you went through at an early age, and you seem to have come out of it such a strong person. Your faith has encouraged me and your prayers have sustained me. I can't imagine my life without you in it.
I'm sorry the World Expo didn't end up working out because of me, but who knows maybe we can do Shanghai in 2010. This time the only thing that may cause nausea for you may be the interesting assortment of food available. I'm sure that was only one of many dreams you had that you put on hold for me. I don't really understand why, especially since our relationship seems to be quite unbalanced. For the past 21 years there has definitely been a lot more giving by you than by me. Perhaps one day when I have my own bundle of joy I will be able to understand you better.
My memories of you are quite vague for most of the beginning of our relationship, but the scrapbooks you have lovingly put together give me glimpse of what was. I do remember many nights in your bed talking until I fell asleep, and somehow every morning I would wake up in my own bed. You taught me how to listen by listening to everything I've had to say, from my baby babble to my frustrations towards growing up.
Your love for people was shown through and through when you would go above and beyond what was expected of you. Sometimes that frustrated me when I would want to go home early, but you would want to stay late so you could see all your patients. I only wish I could be so generous with my time. It's not that you never encouraged me to be giving like that, but it doesn't seem to come so naturally to me...
Most of all your love for God, and hearing the stories of how you've changed are truly a blessing for me. I can't even fathom many of the hardships you went through at an early age, and you seem to have come out of it such a strong person. Your faith has encouraged me and your prayers have sustained me. I can't imagine my life without you in it.
Prologue
For the most part I have never been able to maintain a personal blog because I find them quite narcissistic. There are billions of people in this world, and who am I to think anyone will want to read about my life. Even my most exciting adventures can easily be paled by almost anyone. So instead I've decided to devote some time to the lives of the 100 most influential people in my life (a-la-Time Magazine-style).
Over the years I have encountered more people than I can recall, and some I may not even remember. There are a handful though that have influenced my life and have such interesting stories they should be shared or at least archived for my sake. Names have been changed or omitted, so future employers/spouses/stalkers can remain blissfully unaware of some of our shenanigans.
My goal is to finish the stories of these 100 people in the next 3-4 years. Many already have small vignettes written about them stored on some computer/external hard drive/journal, but updating their stories will be fun! Note the number assignment is rather arbitrary, as only number ONE is really significant.
One day I'd like to look back and see if the lessons I've learned have truly been applied, and if I too can influence just a small handful of people.
Over the years I have encountered more people than I can recall, and some I may not even remember. There are a handful though that have influenced my life and have such interesting stories they should be shared or at least archived for my sake. Names have been changed or omitted, so future employers/spouses/stalkers can remain blissfully unaware of some of our shenanigans.
My goal is to finish the stories of these 100 people in the next 3-4 years. Many already have small vignettes written about them stored on some computer/external hard drive/journal, but updating their stories will be fun! Note the number assignment is rather arbitrary, as only number ONE is really significant.
One day I'd like to look back and see if the lessons I've learned have truly been applied, and if I too can influence just a small handful of people.
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