November 14, 2012

Today I had lunch with a friend and we discussed our dating lives as well as the dating customs from our respective cultures. My friend is three-quarters Cuban and one-quarter Puerto Rican and so she told me about dating from Latin culture. I'm Asian and so I talked about customs from Asian culture. When she asked me what kind of guys I liked, I told her Hispanic. She was surprised by this, but I told her that I liked them because they were fiery and passionate.

"And controlling," she told me.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes."

Well, I had to take her word for it. I've never dated a Hispanic guy and my friend has so I suppose she has more experience. Incidentally, she has dated an Asian guy before. Taiwanese, I believe. My friend told me how he was very smart and ambitious. The guy spoke three languages and was in medical school to become a doctor. And he was controlling as well, she told me. Wow, I thought, but the more I contemplated what she said, the more I realized that there might a grain of truth to it. As we continued talking and comparing cultures, we began to realize how similar the cultures were to each other. Both Latin and Asian cultures were collectivist, with a high emphasis on the family and on group activities. There was also a lot of emphasis on keeping face and not bringing shame to the family name. The similarity that was most relevant to dating customs was the traditional gender role socialization. Men were supposed to be dominant while women were supposed to be submissive. That might explain the controlling boyfriends, I thought to myself. Although, of course, not all Latin and Asian men were controlling the same way not all Latina and Asian women were submissive. I dated an Asian guy once, and he wasn't controlling at all. I suppose this was more just a general statement about people in our cultures and obviously did not hold true for every individual from that culture.

After that, I told her some ugly (and hidden) truths about men and women in my culture. In my native homeland, a man is allowed to beat his wife. What's more, if a woman cheats on her husband, they are immediately divorced. However, if a man cheats on his wife, not only do they stay together, but the man can keep his mistress and keep cheating on his wife. My friend was shocked when she heard this, but all I could do was nod my head sadly. It's often disguised and people don't want to talk about it because they don't want to admit that it goes on, but it's all true all right. In addition to that, people in Asian culture don't usually have a very high level of emotional expression or emotional support. It makes me wonder about all those unhappy Asian marriages, even if there is no domestic violence going on.

 Lastly, I want to admit that I was anxious about eating lunch with this friend at first, but now I'm glad I did. It gave us a chance to talk and get to know each other. Now, we've exchanged phone numbers and we're going to hang out once the school semester is over.

Novemeber 13, 2012

Something momentous happened today. My mother called me and apologized for everything she had done to me in my life, most of it relating to the religious rituals she made me do as a child. She especially apologized for making me go on all those religious retreats.  She said that she was sorry if I didn't like them or if I was embarrassed. She was sorry if she pushed me too hard. She said that she just thought it was best for me at the time and she was apologizing because she did not want me to be angry at her. I told her that I wasn't angry with her, which was technically true. I wasn't angry. I was just resentful. All those years of doing things to please her--praying, going to church, attending religious retreats. Gifts and cards and compliments did not seem to please her. Even hand-drawn pictures and little kind acts did not seem to please her; she just liked religion. So I did religious things for her, and to this day, I'm still scarred by some of the things she put me through.

I still love my mother and I respect her a lot. I've learned a lot from her and I definitely would not be where I am today without her, yet...there's still this hurt and resentful little girl inside of me who doesn't want anything to do with her mom anymore. There's this little girl who is still hurt from being told she should lose weight. Or that she's flat-chested. Or that she has bad hair and bad skin. Or that she's so stupid she can't do anything right and will not make anything of herself.

BUT this is one step forward  and it's something I didn't expect at all. Parents in my native culture don't usually apologize to their children and my mother is particularly prideful so this must have been a big step for her.

And so I thank you, Mom. You weren't always emotionally supportive, but this is one step in the right direction. I'll take whatever acceptance I can get. And I still love you.

Rich and Poor

I was reading an article and this part struck me as particularly enlightening:

"There is a famous anecdote about Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald is reported to have remarked to Hemingway, "The rich are different." And Hemingway replied, 'Yes, they have money,' Fitzgerald had much the better of the exchange. He understood that being rich was not a simple fact, like a large bank account, but a way of looking at reality, a series of attitudes, a special type of life. If this is true of the rich, it is ten times truer of the poor. Everything about them, from the condition of their teeth to the way in which they love, is suffused and permeated by the fact of their poverty. And this is sometimes a hard idea for a Hemingway-like middle-class American to comprehend."

 ~Michael Harrington in The Other America, 1962

This resounded with my own life circumstances and seems like a very good illustration of the difference between the rich and the poor. It really isn't just how much money or wealth one has, it's a whole way of life and looking at the world. It's a mindset that one grows up with and one that is hard to escape. I may be middle-class later on in my life, but I will never be free from the mindset of being poor, of always worrying about having enough money or how to make it through the month. That is a major and often overlooked difference between the rich and the poor.

It also reminds me of this poignant story I read when I was young--"Oranges" by Gary Soto. While the rich can lavish people with flashy gifts and lots of money, the story is about an understanding between a young boy and a grocer. This boy is taking his love interest to a candy shop to buy her something. When the shopkeeper rings up the items, the boy is short two dimes. He then takes two oranges out of his pockets, lays them on the counter, and smiles up at the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper just smiles back, takes the oranges, and rings up their transaction as complete. The boy and the girl walk away with their candy.

See? It's little things like that to which I can empathize and relate. I remember being poor and not being able to afford expensive gifts and extravagant vacations for my loved ones. I remember feeling guilty any time I had to have someone pay for me all the time. It really made me feel helpless and weak, highlighting my financial dependence and deprivation. What was worse was that I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I was born poor, grew up poor, and still am poor. I will be poor for a much longer part of my life yet. It may be many years, possibly even longer than a decade, before I am able to pull myself out of the financially precarious position in which I live and be able to feel self-sufficient, like I'm my own person. I'm one of those who have to make gifts for my loved ones because I can't afford to buy them anything. I'm one of those who have to measure out my life in coffee spoons and save the napkins I get at restaurants. Maybe one day, it will be different, but for now, I wait. I work and learn and wait. 

First Snow Day

It is my first snow day up here in the Northeast and everything looks so beautiful. I first noticed it when I walked out of my morning class today and initially, I thought it was icy rain or sleet.

"Oh no, it's snow. I can see it on you," a passerby remarked. Was it really snow? I thought excitedly. I didn't have time to find out, because by then, I was supposed to board a bus to go to a lecture. When I got off the bus, however, a classmate remarked that it was snowing and that there was snow in my hair.

That's when I thought, Snow! Real snow! During the lecture, I kept sneaking a few glances out of the window, watching the snow swirl in its poetic ballet and settle to the ground and trees in fluffy white drifts. When I talked to Matt that night, he called it "fluffy pillows". He was experiencing the snow in New York City and he said that it wasn't sticking to the streets, but turning into "gross sludge" instead. "People are walking right on it."

While I enjoyed the snow, I did not dress appropriately for the weather. I only had on one coat and nothing to cover my neck, head, and ears. Hence, I had a very cold and chilly walk to school this morning and I wondered how I was going to fare walking home tonight. Luckily, my friend Susanna gave me a ride home and we had a nice chat on the way. She told me how much she loved Christmas and how she cried for about a year when she found out that not everyone in the world celebrated Christmas. I was taken aback by her emotion, but I also remembered my own sadness when I found out that not everyone celebrated the same traditions that I did. I think my childhood shattered a bit that year.

In any case, I need to go buy snow boots and gloves and a scarf. Maybe even a new spirit hood. I called my mother and asked her if I had left my winter accessories at home with her. She said that they were all at her house and she even debated about bringing them to me when she went to visit the Bronx. In the end, she told me to just go buy some new winter-wear, stating that I should have them with me since I would be living up here for at least two years, longer if I got a job up here. I really didn't want to buy something that I already owned, but I hesitated in asking her to ship my winter accessories to me. After I hung up with her, it occurred to me that she might have wanted to keep my winter-wear so that she could use them herself. Either that, or she didn't want to go through the hassle of packing my winter gear and shipping them to me.

Oh well, I suppose I'm going shopping for winter-wear then. Stay safe everyone. I'm going to go enjoy my winter up in the Northeast. :)

Counselor's Meeting and Voting

Today I met with a new counselor to discuss my depression and suicide ideation. It was an interesting conversation at the very least, and the routine of it seemed pretty standard. The counselor seemed at a loss on what to say to me or what follow-up questions to ask and so he told me that he would do some research and probably refer me to some other counselor. I was a bit relieved by this since I feel more comfortable talking to female counselors than to male ones. In addition, I wanted long-term counseling in order to work through some of my deeper emotional issues and the policy of his clinic is short-term therapy. We'll see where this goes...

On another note, I voted today! I know that a lot of people in America are saying that right now, but I believe political participation is important. It'd be great if we could educate more people on current issues and motivate as many people to vote as possible. That way, maybe America can truly be represented by all the groups they govern instead of just the majority groups. Then again, I wonder how many people can't vote because of language, cultural, or physical barriers and yet they live in a world where they are inevitably affected by what happens in politics. I believe that it's crucial for everyone's voice to be heard and their needs made known but that can be difficult in a country with so many people from so many backgrounds.

It makes me wonder what can we do about this?

Productive

I spent most of yesterday being productive. I went to church, jogged for half an hour, and then spent the rest of the day doing homework. Moreover, I limited the time I wasted on the internet and I got some physical activity around the house, too. Hell, I even vacuumed my room and that rarely ever happens.

The amount of productivity combine with physical activity really lifted my spirits. I didn't feel like I was wasting my life, and even better, I didn't feel lonely. I supposed the mindless web surfing was always just a distraction from crushing depression and debilitating loneliness. Now I can fill my days doing something productive.

Lastly, I was lying in bed, and thinking to myself, "What would I be doing if I was going to die in a year?"
Not spend time on the internet, I thought. I would be writing!  And so I made that resolution. I would go back to my writing.

Truthfully, it's been too long. I had given up on it years ago because I lost faith in my writing. I believed that I could never finish a story and even if I did, it would never be any good. Then I thought of people dying in hospitals. I thought of people who suffered freak accidents and now didn't have use of their physical or mental capacities anymore. That's when I realized that the same thing could happen to me and it could happen at any time. This time next week, I could get in a car accident and be lying in a hospital with both of my arms ripped off. Then what would I write with? That's when I decided to change. I have full use of my mind and body now and I'm wasting it. I keep waiting for something to come and I don't even know what the something is, but I might be waiting forever. Regardless, I can't keep using it as an excuse to not live life.

Life starts NOW and, depression or not, I'm going to make the best of it.

Hurricane Sandy

Well, I survived Hurricane Sandy. I can't say the same for the dozens of people who have lost their lives because of the storm, the hundreds of people missing, and those who now have no home, no electricity, no heat, and no hope for surviving this oncoming winter.

It's been terrible. Reports of this being the "perfect storm", the "super storm", or the "Frankenstorm" have not been exaggerated. The Jersey shore has been hit hard, pressure from the crashing tides have washed sand several feet up the side of beach houses, and property damage is estimated to be over a billion dollars. My landlady's house is on the shore and she came today lamenting the loss of so many of her useful possessions. Strangely enough, she offered to bring her tenants some food because it was the one thing that was in surplus at her house.

New York had it pretty bad, too. The lower half of Manhattan is flooded, the subway is stopped up with saltwater on its tracks, and shoreline apartments are underwater. They are trying to pump out the water, and it's actually amazing to see how quickly New York responded to the storm. They handled it very well so kudos to them.

As for me, I was one of the lucky ones. Power went out at my house, but only for a day and a half. To assess the damage in other areas, Matt and I took an hour long drive through the surrounding towns and we witnessed power outages, out-of-order traffic lights, fallen power lines, and trees that had been uprooted by their, well, roots, and were now lying spread out across the roofs of houses. It's been tremendous.

I also received an email today from my school urging teachers to be understanding if students could not come to class or finish their assignments on time. They better be understanding. Tons of people are without a home right now.

My friend Susanna texted me yesterday and told me about some of the damage she knew about. She volunteered for the Red Cross and told me about how this one food shelter had three refrigerators full of food and then the power went out. So not only did all that food rot, but there was very little food to feed the homeless and evacuated residents who came to the shelter. It was also Susanna who told me that 500 people were reported missing ever since the storm hit. Whatever became of them?

I believe that America was much more prepared for this storm than for Hurricane Katrina that happened in 2004, but I wonder how long it will take us to fully recover from this one. Lastly, I wonder about those who have lost so much in this "perfect storm."

Happiness Abounds!

I got my driver's license today! Whoopee! I left the Motor Vehicle Commission all smiles and I even squealed. The woman directing people at the door laughed when she heard me. I kept staring at my new license and as soon as I got out the parking lot, I skipped all the way to my car. Then I looked at my license again in the car. My picture was terrible. I wasn't wearing any makeup to mask my blotchy skin and they told me not to smile so my face is all lined and solemn. I look like some kind of prisoner or inmate. Or a zombie. Also, I had butchered an attempt to cut my bangs a few weeks earlier and so I usually keep my bangs pinned up so people couldn't tell. Well, for the picture, my bangs made an extra special escape from my pins and showed up in the picture. I was wearing a black coat at the time, too so that did nothing for my colouring. All of this culminated to the effect of making me look like a women who had aged about 20 years...and who had terrible, slant-cut bangs.

That didn't dampen my mood, however, as I rejoiced over the newfound privileges I gained with having a license. Now I no longer have to whip out my postal letter for proof of residence. I can just whip out my driver's license instead and we can all have a good laugh at my picture. This license to drive is like a new lease on life, and I'm going to enjoy it for all it's worth.