The dreadful Monday after 4-day long weekend has arrived. I beat my alarm clock unofficially, waking up 3 times at 12AM, then 1:45AM, and finally 3:56AM. I did not get up till the buzz went off 4 minutes later. The road was quiet and air cool. There hang on the dark night a clear moon almost full. Two more days, I estimate, and it will surely be full moon.
I was the first in the office. My morning buddy, a motorcyclist, surprisingly was late – there has been this unspoken on-going competition between us “who gets to turn on lights first” and today I was more than delighted to claim my victory. Besides this childish competitiveness, there is something utterly essential about this “alone-time” before 5:30 when the next morning crew flood in. It’s as close as a therapy or even a religion. I have never actually thought about why and when it started till now…. Maybe it was along the time when I got back to work after 20 years of living in a world with much smaller population of four, sometimes even three when the children were young. Then this new life started and things changed. I was accustomed to speak in one syllable monologue for the longest time, and suddenly these alien-like, so-called “co-workers” submerged with different language and behaviors. I had to learn to talk to not only the 2 boxes on my desk called “My computer” but also these foreigners with way more complexity than the machines. The initial shock was accompanied by excitement, granted we are after all the socializing creature, followed by the unfortunate disillusion and then finally the acceptance accompanied by my morning therapy, and the coffee.
Are we really superior to our creation such as technology boxed in a container some of which is no thicker than 1 or 2 inches? I wonder. As frustrating as these boxes may be after one and half year of acquaintance, I find my fellow mankind, myself included, quite the contrary. I recall the pre-children young “career world” I was once in briefly, but even then there was already hint of disappointment. My passionate nature does the opposite of aiding. It actually became my biggest enemy in my dealing with the human world. While I may have this “love-hate” relationship with these boxes on my desk, I came to appreciate their simplicity and loyalty. For one, they perform their duty as you demand of them regardless of your sex or age. Moreover, they do not take offense with my black and white emotions. I have plenty of my emotional outbursts with them and they power up and open for me day after day faithfully. Not so with the other superior subject. I have tried a few times of grunting and found my co-workers not receptacle or forgiving like my boxes. Besides my extreme nature, I am as much alien to my co-workers as they are to me. What do people like me with grown-up children have anything in common with these 20’s or 30’s? I could see in their eyes what they are thinking: man, what are you doing here? You should be like dead or something. It is usually not until then when I see the reflection of this old person in their eyes that I realize I am out of sync. Emotions may be ageless, physical reality isn’t.
So like a child squirming back into his warm blanket at the annoying wake-up calls, I am hiding here in my quiet quarter for a little bit longer. I need time to check back in this ageless child and the full blown version of passions before coming out. I am waking up slowly; five more minutes please….
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
child's play
4:30 AM on Pre-Thanksgiving day. The road was quiet and wet. The sky was dark with a veil of rain coming down lightly. Weather forecast says it would dry up by Thanksgiving. I do not mind it at all; there is something magical about quiet night mixed with light rain. They go perfectly together and bring out the poet inside of me. The car radio as usual was rigidly off since no disturbance of any sort is allowed. The windows were up and yet I could still hear the splashing sound of my tires running steadily on the wet road, which was just about the only noise in this private corner of the world. It was not at all unpleasant for a morning grouch like me. I don’t thaw out till well after 8AM. At work I even have a sign on my forehead that says “STAY AWAY” for my colleagues; they know of the “after 8AM, MAYBE” though never spelled out rule. It’s just me and my thoughts, my very quiet thoughts. It’s a rough world out there and I need my dose of me-time before facing the enemy.
I have acquired this 4AM schedule for some time now. As unconventional as I may be for many things, I am strangely an animal of habits. I wake up the same time, take the same route to work and park on the same spot. To get to work, there were 15 lights along the way, which I could easily avoid if I take the Interstate. Taking Interstate is longer and somehow makes the commute more official and thus unbearable. The trade-off is it is a daily battle to fight through the traffic lights, most of which run on motion detection at early hours. The biggest bear of all is one that takes you through all sequence should you ever miss it. Every day I could feel my blood running hot as I drive toward the giant traffic light from the distance like a marathon runner facing his final ribbon. Try as I might, I miss the light half of the time, like this morning.
So there I sat, being the first in line, waiting for the light to run through its sequence. There pulled besides me a Suburban truck on the left, waiting with me for the light to turn green. Most of the traffic at this hour heads for the same direction, my company, which would require you to take the right lane that leads to the ramp to the main road where the company sits. At that light, it’s safer to stay on the right lane or else you might miss the ramp and then you would have to take a frustrating detour to get back on track. The toss up comes when there is already a line of cars on the right lane, which means you might miss this light sequence, so there will be times when I or anyone would gamble to move to the shorter left lane, hoping to cut back in when the light turns green. Well that was exactly my Suburban friend's intent. I wouldn’t have guessed it if he had not impatiently (and unwisely) started inching forward a tap too early.
There is some built-in human nature, although more so for some than the others , one of them being “ if I know you are cutting in, I will definitely rile up to make sure you don’t”. And that was exactly what I did when the light turns green. My almost brand new car, though no competition to the beast Suburban in size, has good acceleration and I was determined to use it, aiming to shut down my competitor’s scheme. She did not disappoint me as I pressed on the gas pedal. Within seconds she ramped up discreetly to 40+ MPH, throwing my surprised rival behind. Before I had time to savor my victory, there came from behind the black devil screaming and screeching in speed well over 50 MPH and cut in and sped to the ramp in a nick of time.
The result is in: he won, I lost. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only defeat of the day for me. My Christian charity and virtue always faces their challenge on the roads in time like this and need I mention I lost again in the form of some colorful outburst.
Why is that child in us never goes away when there is competition involved? Those few seconds of victory or defeat on the road seem important enough that we would fight and even risk our life for it as if we were defending our honor or name. I know well that in a matter of minutes life goes on as if none of these ever happened and yet when tempted I am ready to do it all over again. As I wrestled through this mystery, I saw the crowned winner ahead of me slowing down on my right and just when I passed him there went off his disgruntled (or triumphant?) horn. The nerve of the brute! I was amazed at his protest, feeling my blood running hot again and it just hit me with a new-found revelation: My playmate in fact was more bothered than me! That realization for some reasons brought me comfort instantly. I am back to myself, or should I say: my time and my dignity, while he is still there – 5 years old, whining and gloating, not ready to move on.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I have won this round after all?
I have acquired this 4AM schedule for some time now. As unconventional as I may be for many things, I am strangely an animal of habits. I wake up the same time, take the same route to work and park on the same spot. To get to work, there were 15 lights along the way, which I could easily avoid if I take the Interstate. Taking Interstate is longer and somehow makes the commute more official and thus unbearable. The trade-off is it is a daily battle to fight through the traffic lights, most of which run on motion detection at early hours. The biggest bear of all is one that takes you through all sequence should you ever miss it. Every day I could feel my blood running hot as I drive toward the giant traffic light from the distance like a marathon runner facing his final ribbon. Try as I might, I miss the light half of the time, like this morning.
So there I sat, being the first in line, waiting for the light to run through its sequence. There pulled besides me a Suburban truck on the left, waiting with me for the light to turn green. Most of the traffic at this hour heads for the same direction, my company, which would require you to take the right lane that leads to the ramp to the main road where the company sits. At that light, it’s safer to stay on the right lane or else you might miss the ramp and then you would have to take a frustrating detour to get back on track. The toss up comes when there is already a line of cars on the right lane, which means you might miss this light sequence, so there will be times when I or anyone would gamble to move to the shorter left lane, hoping to cut back in when the light turns green. Well that was exactly my Suburban friend's intent. I wouldn’t have guessed it if he had not impatiently (and unwisely) started inching forward a tap too early.
There is some built-in human nature, although more so for some than the others , one of them being “ if I know you are cutting in, I will definitely rile up to make sure you don’t”. And that was exactly what I did when the light turns green. My almost brand new car, though no competition to the beast Suburban in size, has good acceleration and I was determined to use it, aiming to shut down my competitor’s scheme. She did not disappoint me as I pressed on the gas pedal. Within seconds she ramped up discreetly to 40+ MPH, throwing my surprised rival behind. Before I had time to savor my victory, there came from behind the black devil screaming and screeching in speed well over 50 MPH and cut in and sped to the ramp in a nick of time.
The result is in: he won, I lost. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only defeat of the day for me. My Christian charity and virtue always faces their challenge on the roads in time like this and need I mention I lost again in the form of some colorful outburst.
Why is that child in us never goes away when there is competition involved? Those few seconds of victory or defeat on the road seem important enough that we would fight and even risk our life for it as if we were defending our honor or name. I know well that in a matter of minutes life goes on as if none of these ever happened and yet when tempted I am ready to do it all over again. As I wrestled through this mystery, I saw the crowned winner ahead of me slowing down on my right and just when I passed him there went off his disgruntled (or triumphant?) horn. The nerve of the brute! I was amazed at his protest, feeling my blood running hot again and it just hit me with a new-found revelation: My playmate in fact was more bothered than me! That realization for some reasons brought me comfort instantly. I am back to myself, or should I say: my time and my dignity, while he is still there – 5 years old, whining and gloating, not ready to move on.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I have won this round after all?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
turkey or no turkey?
Almost thanksgiving – one more day to go and there will be turkey, gravy and sins and indulgence of all kind to last all day long and even afterwards. For two years since our move back to old VA after 6 years of exile in NH, our Thanksgiving was so tragically marred that it was hardly anything worth giving thanks. The first year was in our rental townhouse waiting for our new home to close. Since we were living off the suitcase with all our possessions in the storage, it seemed logical to downsize the menu to chicken, store bought stuffing and mashed potato. At 7pm, the chicken was merely halfway done, so we went on with our "feast" on stuffing and potato alone. The next year we charged back with vengeance and a real deal, the turkey, hoping to recover from the shameful defeat of the previous year. At 7pm the turkey was still undone. There is nothing more deflating and unappetizing than a turkey running in pink fluid, thus another year of birdless thanksgiving with nothing festive except for mile piled shame.
We have had some memorable and successful thanksgivings. I couldn’t help wondering what went wrong: the bird or timing of the bird? Why is thanksgiving defined by turkeys when we aren’t even crazy about it? Looking back, those successes were tagged with the presence of friends and families, and yes, the stupid bird too. So maybe it is not about the turkey? Still, I remember a couple of times when we tried to contradict the tradition by substituting turkey with other alternatives, one of them being everyone’s favorite, Chinese dumplings, and as delicious as they were it didn’t make it on the memorable list. Rebels we may be at times, we always return to that mysterious bird after straying.
For a small family of 4 with barely a handful of extended families left or nearby, Thanksgiving, like Christmas, is a perplexing question of not only “turkey or no turkey” but also “friends or no friends”. The answers seem to be obvious and yet we struggle every year like fools that suffer from short-term memory loss. There is fun and good food when two (turkey and friends) are combined and yet it comes with a price tag of the loss of aloneness, serenity and everything selfish. Commitment as small as a dose of half day means the loss of freedom which at times may seem excruciating that even no turkey and fun can make up for it. I can’t help thinking alone the line of the Visa commercial with a version like this: turkey dinner, yum; company of friends: fun; luxury of freedom: priceless.
So here we go again, with a day to spare, facing our enemy up close and personal: turkey or no turkey? As plain as it is, this question remains the greatest mystery of all time and shall continue to torment us year after year.
We have had some memorable and successful thanksgivings. I couldn’t help wondering what went wrong: the bird or timing of the bird? Why is thanksgiving defined by turkeys when we aren’t even crazy about it? Looking back, those successes were tagged with the presence of friends and families, and yes, the stupid bird too. So maybe it is not about the turkey? Still, I remember a couple of times when we tried to contradict the tradition by substituting turkey with other alternatives, one of them being everyone’s favorite, Chinese dumplings, and as delicious as they were it didn’t make it on the memorable list. Rebels we may be at times, we always return to that mysterious bird after straying.
For a small family of 4 with barely a handful of extended families left or nearby, Thanksgiving, like Christmas, is a perplexing question of not only “turkey or no turkey” but also “friends or no friends”. The answers seem to be obvious and yet we struggle every year like fools that suffer from short-term memory loss. There is fun and good food when two (turkey and friends) are combined and yet it comes with a price tag of the loss of aloneness, serenity and everything selfish. Commitment as small as a dose of half day means the loss of freedom which at times may seem excruciating that even no turkey and fun can make up for it. I can’t help thinking alone the line of the Visa commercial with a version like this: turkey dinner, yum; company of friends: fun; luxury of freedom: priceless.
So here we go again, with a day to spare, facing our enemy up close and personal: turkey or no turkey? As plain as it is, this question remains the greatest mystery of all time and shall continue to torment us year after year.
Monday, November 23, 2009
hello world
First workday of the week, first blog and first post- cliche but true. Why blogging and why now? It is so against my nature to follow the trend, a born rebel I have been all my life who resists changes and anything new. I can only conclude for now it's the writer in me that yearns to come out. The opportunity to vent from within a frustrating cubical cell in the form of safe monologue is another contributing factor. Did I mention I am cautious? Impulsive too, which sounds illogical, but then again that is totally the story of me or my life – struggling between extremes, searching for compromise (and failing miserably).
First off: why Benjamin Button? Certainly I am not at all looking younger everyday; in fact I am at a stage of doing exactly the opposite and fighting hopelessly with aging as most vain people do. It’s the “living backwards” that brings me and Benjamin together. Most people follow the pattern of schools, jobs, marriage and children, while I may have similar pattern with schools and marriage, but the job thing is definitely out of sync. After 20 years of staying at home for children and family, I am back on the horse with this “career” thing. Even that, I know I am not unique - plenty enough people have done that, but 20 years of absence in the IT/Computer field is another ball game. After one and half years of “adjusting”, I am still adjusting. Benjamin fought with his external, physical “out-of-sync” and I with my internal difference, the skills and the ability to learn. He faced his daemon with a world moving the other direction in “growing old” while I with my 20’s, at most 30’s, colleagues that seem at times total aliens in many ways such as experience, culture and values. My 20’s and 30’s days besides being young have nothing in common with theirs. I wonder at times if my parents’ generation ever struggled with the same realization at their time as i do with mine.
A very quiet Monday before Thanksgiving – Many people have already taken off to make it a full week of vacation. Being one of the new employees with little time to spare for vacation, I will be here till end of day Wednesday. For me, that is vacation: half of the colleagues gone means extra parking spaces and peace and quiet. I can feel the calm inside of me already even without the help of my 60’s oldies. It is indeed the drudgery Monday, but I am excited. I am almost horrified to realize that I want these three days to drag on forever…. My ears are still ringing the tune from the Christmas caroling this morning “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow”, except my lyric is: ” let it last, let it last, let it last”.
So hello world, meet your new Benjamin! May your pre-Thanksgiving days be as jolly as mine and may you be blessed by the unusual dose of serenity from this forever restless soul in the jail of cubical 20.
First off: why Benjamin Button? Certainly I am not at all looking younger everyday; in fact I am at a stage of doing exactly the opposite and fighting hopelessly with aging as most vain people do. It’s the “living backwards” that brings me and Benjamin together. Most people follow the pattern of schools, jobs, marriage and children, while I may have similar pattern with schools and marriage, but the job thing is definitely out of sync. After 20 years of staying at home for children and family, I am back on the horse with this “career” thing. Even that, I know I am not unique - plenty enough people have done that, but 20 years of absence in the IT/Computer field is another ball game. After one and half years of “adjusting”, I am still adjusting. Benjamin fought with his external, physical “out-of-sync” and I with my internal difference, the skills and the ability to learn. He faced his daemon with a world moving the other direction in “growing old” while I with my 20’s, at most 30’s, colleagues that seem at times total aliens in many ways such as experience, culture and values. My 20’s and 30’s days besides being young have nothing in common with theirs. I wonder at times if my parents’ generation ever struggled with the same realization at their time as i do with mine.
A very quiet Monday before Thanksgiving – Many people have already taken off to make it a full week of vacation. Being one of the new employees with little time to spare for vacation, I will be here till end of day Wednesday. For me, that is vacation: half of the colleagues gone means extra parking spaces and peace and quiet. I can feel the calm inside of me already even without the help of my 60’s oldies. It is indeed the drudgery Monday, but I am excited. I am almost horrified to realize that I want these three days to drag on forever…. My ears are still ringing the tune from the Christmas caroling this morning “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow”, except my lyric is: ” let it last, let it last, let it last”.
So hello world, meet your new Benjamin! May your pre-Thanksgiving days be as jolly as mine and may you be blessed by the unusual dose of serenity from this forever restless soul in the jail of cubical 20.
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