mindgration

English VS Chinese

2008-05-21T21:37:00.010-04:00

For the longest time I have been trying to figure out the difference between English and Chinese. I have pondered this question repeatedly, eventually it became something that refused to leave me alone unless I really think it though.

I was born in Taiwan and lived there till 2001; While I was growing up the pressure of learning English never ceased. When I was little my mom invested a lot into buying the teaching materials that's partnered with the Sesame Street; we had a private teacher who came to our house every week and taught us English. I don't remember anything about the lessons, the only thing I remembered is that one time she hit me in my hand with a hanger because I made some kind of "mistakes". In middle school and high school, we were introduced to basic grammars and vocabularies. I remember going to cram school for English after school, and spent many afternoon between school and cram school memorizing vocabularies before the quizzes of the evening.

For some reason my English was one of the best in my class during high school, but I suspect that it was only because most of my classmates hated English, or don't remember too many vocabularies. They would score close to nothing for exams only to let me, who did just mildly better to stand out.

I never imagined myself using English the way I do now; needless to say that I ever thought I would actually enjoy writing in English much more than my own language. this brings me to the point that I am trying to make: what is it about English that I like better than Chinese?

when I look back to the way the two language was taught to me, and the environment of which I used them, perhaps i could sort through some of the clues to say a thing or two about the distinctions. First, Chinese is a very pictorial language; from the individual characters, to the way phrases are put together, to the sentences and expressions, Chinese seems to be always drawing a picture, capturing a feeling, making an analogy. Rarely in Chinese could you find direct expression encouraged; it seems like everything has a skin around it when you use Chinese...there's this distance, this indirect reference going on all the time. In literature it's even so. In Chinese poetry, poets express their feelings through analogy by describing landscape or the color of the sky; though expressions of emotions do exist, but there's always seem to be a lot of "mist" around it in the poem. though being so pictorial has it's benefits, and Chinese does do a great job capturing the ambiguity and the delicate feelings, it suffers a great pitfall. The non-specific way of constant referring to things is a great disadvantage when use the language in science. This is when English comes winning.

In English, when encounter a need for a new meaning, we could make it up by combining two or more words together, if we were to sound intelligent, one would combine the word through Latin roots, but in cases where we just need to get the job done, we would put less thought, more creativity into it and spin it like "Brangelina" or "Bennefer". But this is not why I enjoy it. I think for the most part, English provides a clarity that I didn't experience before but had in some way missed it. I really like the fact that in English one can make clear argument about things that's ambiguous yet make no one misunderstood because one can structure the language to exactly what one wants it to mean. I feel most frustrated in Chinese in this aspect. Since each character can have so much meaning behind it, even when you combine words together in an attempt to point out certain things, there's still too much room for imagined meanings to come in. One of the pitfalls in the structure of the language is the the lack of S+V+O rule in Chinese. One can start talking about what one did yesterday all day and only refer to himself as "I" once in the beginning of the whole conversation. This creates much confusion and rooms for suggestions that eventually could lead the original intended meaning astray. Too often in conversations now with my mom, I have to ask her for the "subject"---exactly who she was referring to when she started talking.

I found the fact that after turning 20 and started learning English in strictly academic institutions has it's role on shaping the way I use English. For starters, only the proper ways were allowed; I must pay attention to tenses, and always be mindful of minor details in both writing and speaking. But after about three years in the States, when I started to fly with it, I was not only enjoying having a foreign language rolling out of my tongue, but also the much needed friendships that developed and the expending social circle. That's when street talks start to come in; things like "hook-up", "yo-all", "ain't", etc, started to contaminate my English. But such imperfections are what i am willing to compromise if I could decrease distance between others and myself and develope friendships!

Though not directly related to the distinctions between Chinese and English, I found psychologically and in emotional expressions, English opened up a whole new ways of communication that i never experienced before with my family and friends. Perhaps it's just that American are better at talking about, addressing their feelings in general, I found the way i express myself in English is something I couldn't really do in Chinese. however, I need to rule out exactly why I could not express my emotions clearly in my own language? is it a culture issue? or it's a language issue? For whatever the reason, sometimes I cought myself thinking about making a difficult conversation with my mother in English, even though I NEVER have conversation with my mom in English. I could only guess that, since it's not my "mother tongue", there's also a lack of emotional impact on my very raw psyche! In some cases, it's almost like impersonal in a way, because I was speaking a foreign language that has yet to merge with me. It's like when you are insulted in a foreign language, it wouldn't really hurt because not only do you not know the meanings of the specific words, but also there's no emotional association or meanings to those words. But when I want to make the expressions so common in everyday American life, such as "I am so happy for you", "this hurts my feelings", or "he's a really good kisser", the Chinese translation would always be something watered-down, less direct, and not so much "ZING". This is what I means that everything has a skin around it, it's like you can't point at it, say exactly what it is. this could be a culture issue or just a habit of how people use the language. i mean, if you really want, you could try to speak chinese in the way you use English in America, only be mindful about the trouble you would get yourself into.

If you were in Taiwan and you are to say in Chinese "I am good at cooking; I am a good cook" to a roomful of friends, let's just observe how your arrogance could quiet down a party and people will change how they think about you completely. I have also tried to talk "American" to my mom about being more positive, and not to hurt my sister's feelings by saying, "she really cares about your comments, and what you said could really hurt her feelings". You have no idea how big a deal it was that I spoke so directly about "feelings" to my mother. The phone went dead; it was too much to deal with.

Even though I have put a lot of thought into this, I could only speak from my own experiences. I believe much more could be learned about exactly what characteristic distinctions made Chinese and English so different, inevitably there will also be the task of ruling out culture issues and habits of how the language is used. Before I become wiser and such, I will make clear that as the years go by, and English becoming one of my own languages, it starts to "get to me" more as time goes. This gives me less room for psychological advantage and distance, but defiantly more clarity and hopefully, less troubles! by the way, how do you say, "you drive me nuts" in Chinese?

(you don't.)

keep the dream alive

2008-05-20T15:21:00.003-04:00

Sometimes as children we knew what we want, and had the vision for our lives, but find ourselves lack the ability to verbalize it or express it to others. Sometimes as adults, our dreams don't fall into the existing category of things that others do, we try to keep it secret because we loathe the looks from those who don't know us well enough to validate our visions.

But the great moment of our working life comes when it merge with our soul and in tune with the purpose of why we were made, only the little tingle in our stomach knows, that we have got it. It's the moment that make solid of our existence, and nothing feels better; we can skip meals, neglect phone calls, and other socially defined important stuff. Only we know what is truly real to our soul, and sometimes such private victory could only be celebrated with the increasing heartbeats that inject each and every cell of our body with vital force that rushes us to the finishing line. We know we are going to matter and that our dreams that grew from the little seed planted in childhood will one day blossom and shadow those who never came close to envision the impossible.

artists' craft

2008-05-16T00:14:00.005-04:00

I love talking to artists of all kinds and find out about what they do for their craft.

Today after watching a Flyers game, my neighbor and I went to have a drink with his band buddy Ryan. Ryan is getting a classical guitar degree at the Temple University here in Philadelphia. He was talking about how much care he puts into his nails for his music.

Because one plays classical guitar with one's nails, he files his nails everyday to keep it in a certain shape. "I have to keep it in certain roundness for the sound to be good; and it takes some experiments too." said Ryan. Some of his teachers went through periods experimenting not only music styles but also nail shapes. "the more you do it, the better you know what shape works for you. " he said.

but there's a draw back with this naturalistic craft with music. "some people just have brittle nails, and it breaks all the time, that's when you are really f*ed. I remember one time I broke the nail on my middle finger, and that's when I was about to go for the audition for transferring from Uarts to Temple. I called up my teacher about it and ask him what to do."

there I was, talking to this dedicated musician, and never did i know that a man can talk about his broken nail without the obligation to justify.

"My teacher said to put a piece of toilet paper on it and glue it together with Super Glue, I guess that's why I see his thumb was covered in Super Glue all the time."

"I know this guy who never got his nail to work for him, so what he did was he cut and glue a piece of ping-pong ball on his nail, and file it down to the exact shape that he wants, and that's how he gets the sound."

I was and have always been intrigued by the uncanny things musicians and artists do privately in order to reach the perfection for their craft. I remember my neighbors, Lisa and Anna, a pair of twin girls who attended Curtis institute. Anna plays oboe, and Lisa is a viola player. while they spend much of their time practicing, Anna spend a considerable amount of time dedicating herself to another form of craft that could surprise some people. In their apartment, next to the music stand, there's a table that's usually covered with scraps of wood chips. I was so puzzled by the sight that I usually only see in the wood shops in my college. one day finally i asked.

Besides practice, Anna spend a considerable amount of time shaping the reed that goes into her oboe. "It sucks," said Anna. "Its like i have to not only learn how to play oboe, but also crafting the reed to make it work. It's a craft all by itself. sometimes I spend hours shaping the reed and it broke because it's too thin, so i have to start all over again. But when you leave it too thick, it just doesn't sound good, it just doesn't work."

these are the aspect of the musicians' life that most people would never know about, most people probably don't care, either. yet these are the things that interest me greatly. Who would have known the shape of their nails are so critical, who would have known the musician sits at a table with a tool box for hours shaping a piece of wood before she could really play? Ryan added, "I never zip my pants with my right hand, because it could break the nails so easily."

the only thing that I could think of off top of my head that's relevant to this and comes close to that would be what i did when i started learning web design. there are so many things to keep track of when designing a website, especially if you are trying to incorporate different programs and merge them seamlessly into a page. that's what I was trying to do for one of my very first real web design projects. everyday in that semester, I woke up in the morning and made myself a cup of tea with the mix of green tea and ginkgo tea, and for breakfast, I would eat only raw, uncooked food. The reason for this is to get the maximum amount of blood flood into the brain for the highest possible level of concentration, and use the least amount of energy to digestion while keeping the energy. When you use three or four programs simultaneously, and the two programs out of the four are completely new to you, some concentration will be needed; Besides, those things in web design and programming are so complicated, it's not like you could just keep making notes about it, because that will only slow down the process even more.

I got such a kick out of Ryan and Anna's story that i felt i could make it into a project. I am sure there's plenty of similar things out there to be discovered. What do the drummers do? What do the writers do? What about painters? Piano players? conductors? actors? dancers? I am in awe not just for the beautiful music and art these people produce, it's the amount of detailed dedication and mind that goes into it that really touches, intrigue and inspire me.

Same bed, different dreams

2008-03-23T00:12:00.005-04:00

I had a weird dream. I was dating this funny looking guy who has a smile so board that it looks like he thinks everyone likes him. What bothers me the most was that he really believes that I have great affection towards him. This reminded me of years ago that I was in the same situation where I trapped myself in a relationship that developed under panic and misunderstanding. I remember the frustration and anger of hearing the other person told me that he thinks we were soul mates and we were made for each other. I found myself revisited by the same feeling of disgust. Sometimes it’s a wonder how people manage to get their worst enemy into bed with themselves. In my dream I was shaking my head in disbelief that I repeat the one thing that I regret the most in my life, trying to figure out who I got to that point again. I thought hard for a moment and realize the funny looking person in my dream was the hairstyle guy Peter Ishkhans on TV. Instantly, it was as if I discovered my dream’s trick on me that it losses it’s charm. The nightmare relationship was no longer effective and I was released from the curse of this bound. And then I woke.

It’s 11 am on Saturday morning, I jumped out of the bed and get ready to do an interview with my friend Susan. I have completely forgot to check the election result. After return from the interview and went straight to another date with my neighbor Michele, I realize at that moment the decision had been made; whatever it might be, it will be too late to change anything; for better or for worse, Taiwan has decided where they want to go for the years to come.

Upon entering my apartment, I realize I have not been so aware of myself and my actions for a long time. I took off my shoes, washed my hands, took some grapes from the fridge and rinsed them under running water. I felt I was preparing for a ceremony; in my mind I envisioned myself sitting in front of my computer and type in the web address, knowing in the next second, the headline will appear on the front page of Yahoo Taiwan. I was seeing it as if hearing an announcement of a sentence.

My family has a deep tie with the "green party" in Taiwan. One of my second cousin served as the mayor of a major city in Taiwan years ago; my folks are green alright. However when I look at the result, it wasn't even so much about the parties as to their agendas. The dynamic between Taiwan and China seem to trigger much more intense emotion as one sees it a distance away. Nothing regarding Taiwan worries me more. Growing up in Taiwan and recognize it as my only home and country, I am pro-independence as soon as I could understand anything about politics. I don't care what "other countries" have to say about this notion, at the end, I really think Taiwanese' business isn't anyone else's business.

I hit the ENTER key, the screen went blank as it refreshes it's display to the website, and, there it is. Stab one, Ma and Shauo won the presidential election of 2008. stab two, Ma annouce that he will work towards "better tie" with China.

I knew my disbelief was only based on my desire for Taiwan's independence and the fear of losing it's stand, I still took a moment to let the shock set in. the decision has been made, like we say it in Taiwanese---it's like water that's splashed to the ground, you can't take it back. I sat in silence to digest the news. Moments later, emerged in my mind was a mix of understanding and worry. I guess I could be objective and see the 58% people's view point when we take into account the president's family and financial scandles. I know little of the enconomical situations, but it's been reportly affecting all areas of Taiwanese' everyday life. I try to disengage myself from thinking about the crucial issues between Taiwan and China under the leadership of KMT, yet I have hard time not preparing for the worst. I imagine myself years later, sitting in my room in front of my computer, and receive the news online that my country has gone. I never knew how deeply I fear that day to come till now it has officially became a possibility. my head starts to swell, and I took it as my biological response of stopping myself from thinking any longer; our body knows there's better things to do before we could comprehend the notion under emotionally charging situations.

the feeling was so heavy that I decided, against my usual habit, to go to the gym.

Changing an environment seemed to work, however this issue was too much of an pressure I felt over my head to be ignored completely. In my mind, I see Ma's smiles, his perfectly combed hair, and his grin that seems to imprint in so many Taiwanese' mind. As I back away from the close up image of his face, I saw him shaking one of the Chinese official's hand. I backed away a little, I saw that he wasn't only shaking this other person's hand, but his also using his other hand to cover their hand shake---a body language that displays great affection. 'It's a done deal' he smiles, 'It's all yous' he says. I speed up my treadmill try to shake off this image; I took out my ipod and turn the music louder; I needed to numb myself with charging stimulations. Still, I was not aware of my body. If there's any down side to fitness, this would be it: what was painful physical activity years ago have become so much part of my life that it could no longer challenge me, and in situations like this, failed to take my mind off the things that bothers me. In my mind's eye, I could still see Ma's smile, his grin and the brightness of his teeth seems to reflect lights that is now shinning on him from all directions. In all the busy chaos, my mind was surprisingly quiet. I felt the field of my vision has diminished to a darkened stage, in the distant spot light, his grin was stabbing my heart, again and again.

Sometimes when I think about the relationship between KMT and DPP in Taiwan, it seems to me like two people fighting in the same bed. A couple who had come into the situation under the illusion that they can change the other person's idea and have the other person agree with what they thought is important and true, only later find out, after the excitment of honeymoon subside, that they have completely opposite value and desires. Sadly the bound between KMT and DDP can't be simply resolved as singing a divorce paper, not could they really afford kicking the other person off the bed. I wonder what kind of marriage therapist could work their magic to solve this knot.

...

2008-03-22T16:53:00.002-04:00

I am really bumbed out because of the election result in Taiwan. What I worried about the most is how the relationship between Taiwan and China is going to change now??? The future doesn't look too bright. At this point, it feel as if Taiwan has fell into the enemy's hands already. this really sucks.

Eu council and Taiwan

2008-03-18T12:48:00.002-04:00

My friend in Taiwan sent me a news link published by "the Liberty Time" in Taiwan stating that the EU council recognize Taiwan as an independent, democratic, liberal country with strong economy. It stated that many EU member countries support and considered the necessarty of Taiwan becoming a UN member, and urge Taiwanese to vote for such resolution of it's identity.

Everytime I read such news, I always do my research on BBC news and Yahoo news as well as Times (of UK) in order to find out if the same information appears in the media from other parts of the world. Sometimes news like this will delay for a day or two, even if it's on BBC, it's usually extremely brief.

Again and again, this is a confrontation of our situation that even Taiwanese feels sluggish to struggle for. Growing up in Taiwan under constant war threat from China, i have profound resentment towards the Chinese. I have friends who have taught English in china and it's a common perception concerning Taiwan-China relation in the eyes of Chinese civilian that "Taiwan will sooner or later belongs to us". It always makes me sick to my stomach.

The damage of constant war threat to the Taiwanese society can be observed when one sees the whole operation and progression of the society with the notion of collective unconscious. It is my hypothesis that war threat prohibited Taiwan from progress toward higher functioning, since the individual Taiwanese is reminded of the possibility of losing one's basic survival needs---safety, shelter, food. Under such condition, Taiwanese in the past 50 years has strive towards the construction of basic functioning, and stuck with this material achievement. Scientific research is equal to non-exist in Taiwan---why? when you are worrying about the loss of your safety and property, why would you invest into subjects that appear to be consist of ambiguous ideas? why would any one believe in researching to prove something that doesn't appear to exist? though Taiwan's achievement in trading and technology aspects cannot be denied, yet I doubt stuck with an obsession of pure material refinement is enough to bring Taiwan forward.

The effect stated above has prevented some of the most excellent Taiwanese people to go back to his home country. Since the scientific community is almost non-existant, these talents could only chose the secondary option of staying in the country for which he was educated in. As a result, Taiwan suffer from a serious brain drain.

when one looks at the history of successful and powerful countries such as the Roman empire, United Kingdom or the Chin Dynasty, Tung Dynasty, what accompanying a country's success in politics and foreign policy is blooming development of the artistic community and expression. Taiwan, for as long as I can remember, has a struggling art community, surviving against all fear and pressure of losing the ground to grow. It is apparent to me that art is a right for all people to exercise, however the priveledge to progress in this arena only belongs to those countries which enjoys a consistent awareness of it's safty.

As long as Taiwan doesn't gain a sense of safety and away from war threat, the Taiwanese people will never get to see the artistic potential and brilliant minds that's capable of making scientific discoveries which strengths embodies the capacity of leading Taiwan forward.

happy day

2007-12-27T23:13:00.000-05:00

Nothing to report, just want to say I am happy in Taiwan!

I am yet to hit Kariokie (spelling???) and night markets. I have been seeing friends everyday and enjoying the city. I wonder how this saying come about but people seem to share this anxiety about going home (the closer to home the more anxious)...I am glad that's gone now, I can't wait to see more and enjoy more Taiwan--!!!!

say it with me...I LOVE TAIWAN!!!!!!!!!

2007-12-27T17:49:00.000-05:00

LET'S PUT OUR HANDS IN THE AIR!! It's Taiwan! man!
I have been in Taipei for a week now and it's just as fantastic as I have anticipated! Taiwan is getting better all the time and more and more becoming an international city! Taiwan has so much to offer and the people here are so nice!

I really miss home and am jealous of people who live here!

I am having a blast--! don't want this to end! hope you all have a wonderful new year! cheers from Taipei!

remembering the magic garden

2007-10-12T00:04:00.000-04:00

“It’s fun!”
“I know.” She said.
“You should definitely do it!”
“I know, maybe some time.”
Sitting at the table at the sidewalk on one of the First Friday evenings in the Old City, my friend and I were sharing a plate of sushi with some watermelon mojitos. Coming and going were the sexy girls in high hills, black dresses and skirts that show off their muscular, clean shaven, and tanned legs. There came a group of men, most of whom were over six feet tall with toned arms; Their shirts always seem one size too small, I knew they enjoyed knowing that my eyes were drawing the outlines of their bodies. As I tried to pay attention to my friend while my eyes followed every beautiful body that passed behind her, I was trying to convince her to get some. This evening in the Old City at the end of the summer felt like a lukewarm party. The beginning of that evening didn't translate the feeling of new. There is no neon around this side of the city; the night was ornamented with the girls’ smoky eyes and sparkling lip gloss. I wondered which ones in the crowd will get some tonight.

“I respect your religion,” I said, “ and I believe there’s a benefit of saving it for later, but one should never devalue the test drive.”
She nodded, chewing the sushi.

The alcohol in me made me sit low on the chair. I looked over to the west side of the sky, the sunset dyed the evening orange; I wondered what the sunrise was like at the same moment, on the opposite side of the globe.

“But I have to get a boyfriend first.” She said.
“Same here, I know, it’s always the problem, the penis comes with the body though.”
We chuckled.
“They do sell them in stores, but those don’t come with souls.”

As she smiles, I saw David’s eyes; slowly like a ripple, the images of his blond hair, his smile, the shape of his skinny shoulders that always show through his thin t-shirts were forming in front of my eyes. I cannot recall the last time I felt it was ok to have my hands wondering along his body, and then I felt again that pinch which always forces me to stop thinking---but I still wondered where he is and who might he has in his arms. At this time in Taiwan, everyone is still in bed.

I sat up straight, and leaned forward.
“Hey, I forgot where I read this, but did you ever think about that women’s orgasms has no actual function at all?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean unlike male orgasm, which makes women pregnant, female orgasm just makes you feel good. Come-on, it’s a gift from God, you know.”
“That’s good thinking”

I don’t remember sex. I try to recall seeing someone moving back and forth on top of me. Flipping through my memory, the more I try to grasp their faces the farther away they drift into the deep end of my mind; discolored, thinned, their presence in my recollection are so trivial, gradually they become pieces of translucent impurities that quietly deposit to the floor of my heart. Those brief encounters provided temporary gratification. But the nothingness I always felt made it clear that I should end the meaningless pursuit before it starts to dig a bigger hole in me.

I saw David and me lying face-to-face, naked, under the thin sheets. The sheets gently lay upon us; the softness and the warmth were the same as the way he always looks at me. I don’t remember what I used to say, but I remember I liked playing with the hair on his chest while we talked for hours after sex. He held me as we fall in sleep together. Sometimes I would kiss his eyelids when he closed his eyes.

As my friend and I walked through the busy streets leaving Old City, she started telling me about a boy she’s been emailing. I wondered how and when will she one day find herself in the position of facing the other person, naked for the first time, and wondering what’s the next thing to do. I wondered if the save-it-for-later kind of sex guarantees it to be meaningful.

“You know, sometimes we would talk on the phone and he would need to make it short for no apparent reason. One day he told me he wants his first time to be with me, I was freaking out, because I never think about him that way.” She said about her ex.
I smiled.
“And a few months after we broke up, I realized why he needed to hang up early. It’s gross.”
I laughed. I thought to be desired is a wonderful thing, but I knew she’s not ready to embrace this notion. Desire, what a precious emotion. I cannot help that my mind always takes me back to those nights years ago, when he wasn’t responding to my display of affection. That fire only blazed more fiercely after he moved away, even being separated by the Pacific Ocean could not cease my desire for him; slowly that burn started to eat away my insides.

In my dreams I often see David stands in the dark, his smile and gentleness remain. The blue sparkles in his eyes were intensified under the shadow of his brows. He was always just a bit shy of my reach; his tenderness and the luminous quality of his presence won't cease stabbing my heart. I wonder why God had put him in my life. I am waiting for the day that this will stop breaking me. Sometimes I wake up at night and look at the clock, convert to 12 hours ahead makes it mid-afternoon in Taiwan. I always think about him as being alone, yet the other part of me always fights to see the truth that there has been someone else by his side. From time to time this thought makes my ears start ringing and my head feels full.

Drifting in and out of sleep, dawn always comes too soon. As the sunlight pierced through the glass roof of the building directly across my window, I suddenly realize that at the same time in Taiwan, people are sharing the same sunlight that I am now also gazing at. I wondered if David is looking at his long shadow as the sun is setting in his city, as he walks down the street. Does he think about me? I wondered if I was being too pushy with the sex thing with my friend. I know I was only doing it because at least I could get the chance of vicariously having sex again. What I was looking for had been given to me and taken away. I long for the day when kissing and playing are fun and easy again. I long for having someone that, the meanings of our togetherness brings happiness. I wait for the person that I want to care and love again, and this time, he will stay.

Mother Tongue

2007-09-29T12:02:00.001-04:00

It was seven in the morning, the sky was dim and gray; it was one of the first chilly days since the summer ended. I found myself running through the clean-cut, nut-brown marble sidewalks, in the business section surrounding the United Nations Headquarter on 42nd street on the east side of Manhattan. I was late; the event started fifteen-minutes ago. I was still a few blocks away and as I ran, many wonders raced through my mind: What will it be like? Who will be there? And, are the people firmly believe in what they are doing? Do they know the importance of being here today? How am I going to talk about what will happen today with my American friends? Who’s with us? What am I going to say? As I got closer, I started to feel the familiar vibration of Taiwanese being loudly broadcasted through the speakers; when the back of the stage was in sight and I saw the news vehicles and the green signs and flags waved and cheered along with the speaker on the stage, I felt a buzz shoot through my spin which cause goosebumps to cover my sculpt; the excitement made my face swell and I couldn't help but smiled broadly as I crossed the street. Upon entering the crowded United Nations Plaza, it started to drizzle, the soreness at my eyeballs was stinging as I was surrounded by the people cheering in Taiwanese. Their faces and eyes were filled with the passion that was taking over me.

My eyes were wet. I walked quickly as I looked for my sister and friends who had arrived moments ago. Some people stood along side the square started to use their hands to cover their heads as the fine drizzles were gently hitting their faces; inside the crowd, the waves of cheers continued to heat up and the rain gone unnoticed. This was the first time I joined a large organized political event. The goal of the day was to make known Taiwan’s plead to join the United Nations under the name of “Taiwan”. Being one of the most free, modern and progressive democratic nations with one of strongest economy in the world, it is incomprehensible why Taiwan isn’t allowed to be part of the United Nations. Taiwan is the only home we know and we are responsible to fight for its dignity; The frustration of knowing that the injustice the Taiwanese have put up with have last for as long as some of us have lived made us just want to shout on the roof top. In fact, that's what we sort of did. On the stage was Taiwan’s Director-General of News Media Mr. Ché who flew in two days ago to lead this event; he stood in front of a 10 feet wide six feet tall flat screen wall, next to two large speakers, held a microphone close to his mouth and sang the rhyming slogans; following each of his sentences, people waved the little green flags of Taiwan higher and higher.

I finally found my orientation and stood with my sister and friends. We were amazed how the Director-General of News Media was able to alternate the slogans in Taiwanese and English and still managed to make them rhyme. Soon enough, the novelty wore off and I started to ask people around me, why weren’t there anyone on the stage speaking English? We are at the United Nations Plaza, in Manhattan, in the United States, after all. I imagined that there will be news reporter from all sorts of media from different countries, and why aren’t the organizers speaking English? Though people were with me on that question, no one had an answer. Someone said, “Maybe because their English is bad?” It was an assumption that I doubt was really the answer.

As we started to march down the 42nd street to cross Manhattan, I talked to many people of all ages and backgrounds, most of whom were Taiwanese who’s been in the US for more than ten years and still speak mostly Taiwanese. From the conversations I learned that they have held jobs, started their own businesses and raised children in this foreign country. Indeed, the US hosts some of the most outstanding and capable Taiwanese; the peace it provides bring them away from home and away from the constant threats and emotional abuse China had done to Taiwan since the 80s. The people in the march generally agreed that the war threat was one of the main reasons for them to leave Taiwan, but this only increased their passion, loyalty and faith in their home country. Leaving Taiwan as young adults felt like grown children that find themselves in foster homes, the bond they had formed with their mothers and the longing and pain were turned into intensified loyalty that was actually less seen in Taiwan.

As well adopted as we are in the new country, nothing moves us at the core as immediately as the mother tongue. I gradually realized the reason for people to remain speaking Taiwanese in front of the UN square. We did not need to convinced ourselves the importance of Taiwan joining the UN, yet we can only unite the people with the language that every nerve and cell of our body recognizes. Taiwanese is a spoken language not a written language which can only be kept alive through speaking, and it provides no escape for Taiwanese to communicate in less intimate ways. In other languages one can find a less threatening arena to express one’s intimate feelings through writing, such method also allows the person to be away from the intended audience. It is like lovers compose love poems in private and find it much easier than directly confronte one’s love interest; speaking from one’s heart when it’s open and vulnerable in a situation with no guaranteed success is always less favored. There’s no getaway from speaking from one’s heart when uses Taiwanese.

During the march from time to time we saw a few people point out our concerns and speak out in English. Whenever such thing happens, I always noticed an immediate silence and the sense of alienation that replaced the passion that was just there moments ago. Even though we all understand English but being addressed to in a foreign language felt like everyone was put into different rooms individually and wasn’t able to connect to each other; when the speech was switched to Taiwanese, there was no longer any separations, the vibe connects us with the ambient music that was woven into our soul since our distant childhood.

I was glad to see that the use of our native languages was not an obstacle for the passion to continue to unite people and draw people in. Along the three-mile march, many New Yorkers that were aware of the “Taiwan join UN” issue decided to be part of us; Some even took the part to bring up the spirit that was going down after many hours of charged emotions by shouting out,“UN for Taiwan”. Even the traffic police had learned that speaking “hurry up” in Taiwanese has more effect on the crowd than saying it in English. As we approached our destination, the Chinese consulate on 12 avenue and 42nd street, the landscape on the West side of Manhattan started to present an industrial bareness. After six-and-a half hour non-stop shouting from the top of our lounges and walked three miles with all the equipments, signs, food and water that sustained the three thousand people in the march, we were getting tired and losing our voice. This was when at one of the street corners as we waited for the red light, a woman at the bus stop nodded to me and said, “I am so proud of you”. Looking at her, I felt my face swell again and my ears were hot. I smiled to the woman as the crowd started to move forward again. What did we make other peoples of other nationalities feel on that day, and what the New Yorkers said about this march that caused much traffic congestion, I will never know. One thing that I was sure of from this little affirmation from a bystander was that it’s always encouraging to see people fighting for their belief and dreams, regardless the fact that Taiwanese and English can't be more different.

Weeks following the UN for Taiwan March, I found myself putting much effort into sorting through the whole issue both on the level of it being a collective goal and the considerations of each individuals. I found that the more I want to figure out the dynamic between Taiwan and other countries, the deeper I find myself in a tingled puzzle and mystery. Amount many conflicting ideas and agendas I found my deepened sense of Taiwanese identity, faith in humanity and this new insight of the power of one’s native language that we called the mother tongue.

A Good Old Time

2007-09-28T14:46:00.000-04:00

When I was little I always thought what adults would call “the important moments in life” are those that are glorious and eventful; only events with landmark quality and significance are worth remembering. Finally in my mid-twenties I am at the age to answer my childhood wonder; I found that the answers point to things of grandiose importance otherwise known as objective nothingness. I am not disappointed to the self that extended from my childhood nor am I apologetic, for now I understand the value of the simplest childhood memories and the peace that brings me. Some of my frequent reflections of the past are often those motionless scenes in the houses I lived in when I was a child. One of these memories was snapshots of the rooms in my grandmother’s apartment in Taipei. There was a snapshot of the glare summer light reflect on her smooth terrazzo floor that made my eyes squint; standing on the cold floor and looking at the faded patterns bleached in the light, I remember feeling safe and I was myself. This is a simple but memorable moment that comforts me.

Grandma owned a third floor two bedroom apartment. It was very spacious and the bright light from the balcony stretched into the living room through the small bedroom. The balcony faced a busy street which had a center road divider. My sister and I, as little kids, were fascinated by the balcony and the view. In the early 80s we lived in a little town in central Taiwan where most houses were only one story high. We didn’t have neighbors since our house were surrounded by our own farmland and factory. The roads surrounded our house led to our own properties; the only cars that ever appeared on our drive way were our own. In the rare occassions when we were visiting grandma in Taipei and stood on that balcony facing a street with some real traffic, we couldn’t get enough of the amusement of being in a space that’s hanging in air.

My sister and I loved watching traffic on that balcony. We enjoyed catching breeze on the cold tile floor in the humid summer days. We often waited till no adults were around so we could put our legs through the bars and feel the thrill of we hanging our legs in midair. We did this every time we visited Taipei and after we experienced in observing traffic, we developed a game to play on the random jaywalkers. Every time we caught jaywalkers crossing the busy street and waited at the middle road divider, we yelled, “THE PERSON JAYWALKING AT THE ROAD DIVIDER IS THE OLD MONKEY LEE!!!” We yelled at the same time and as loud as we could. As the jaywalkers stood on that road divider in the midst of busy traffic, they seemed like actors who had forgotten their next line and were seeking the hints of the next stage direction. Though they seemed innocent and lost as they stood in the traffic streams, to us they were lawbreakers who needed some reminders and law reinforcements.

Our “old monkey” slogan probably wasn’t heard by some of the jaywalkers because of the noise from the traffic. The jaywalkers often crossed the street and sometimes came right below us. This was when my sister and I stand up, reach our heads outside the balcony as far as we could, and spit. We then immediately jump away from the edge and laugh. Soon after recovering from the laughers that pained our stomachs, we peek at those unfortunates and see their reactions of being spat upon. We did this for hours and hours in those afternoons when our parents were out shopping in the city of Taipei.

Our innocence was soon chased away. The memory of being foolish children on my grandma’s balcony was one of the few playful moments I shared with my sister; those were also the last few moments when nothing was between us. As we grow to the age when we were constantly evaluated in school and at home, my parents never made the effort to hide that they favored me while constantly find faults in her. In middle school my sister and I shared a study next to our parents’ room. We studied through the quiet cold winter nights without heat and the summer days when the stray cats’ unending cry in their mating season made the sounds similar to human infants. Everyday we studied and everyday I expected that my father would storm in any moment and find faults in my sister’s homework. Once a month after the schools’ monthly exam, my sister always hid her transcript and was always forced to hand it out. After made a big scene on how she failed on certain subjects, my dad will drag her to her room and beat her for hours till he exhausted himself.

My only way to ensure myself not to end up like my sister was to sit through those hours of her scream and cry and mind my own business. I did all I could to make sure that I stayed on the top of my class and not get involved with any trouble that would lead to anything that could be reasons of a good beating. My strategies for my own survival and the actions I must took appeared to my sister that I deliberately ignored her misfortune and sufferings.

During high school, in the rare occasions when I visited our home after I moved away, my sister often evoked me for trivial things that she could blame me for. I could not make sense of why she wanted to make our interactions difficult; eventually I started to find things to keep myself at school during weekends in order to not go home.

My sister has recently moved back to Taiwan after finished her bachelor degree in Los Angelus. Sometimes I thought about her. I thought about her when I read alone in my room while the snow outside was blown to all directions. I thought about her round face that never seemed to loss that childlike quality; I thought about her small hands and wondered how is she managing to live by herself. I thought about how little I know about her after we became adults. I tried to think about the last time that we had laugh together for something genuinely funny instead of something ironic. In my search of her smiling face that I could recall, I saw her sitting on that balcony beside me, with her legs hanging in the air, and we were waiting for the jaywalkers.

Mole

2007-09-26T01:06:00.000-04:00

I have a mole on my face, in the middle, between my eyebrows. Amongst many other freckles and marks on my face, the mole is the most pronounced of them all. It is the size of a piece of short-grain rice, in dark brown. For it’s chosen location on my face, it’s quite prominent and people pay more attention to it than I often realize. As a kid, I paid little attention to my face; I cannot recall the day that I discovered this mole that had grown off center, above the bridge of my nose; however I remember perfectly well the moment when I realized that the mole reminds others something special about me. One day in fifth grade, a girl looked at me in the eyes and said, “Never, never, never remove your mole, it’s your trademark”.

Growing up in Taiwan, having a mole in the middle of my face between my brows was often given more meaning than I thought necessary. Some people, especially adults who like to clam themselves as more spiritual or have been blessed with Buddha’s wisdom, loved to say to my mom, “Oh! your daughter has a special connection with the Buddha!”, referring to my mole. Of course it was a nice thing to say, for in Taiwan everyone wants to be related to the Buddha; If her daughter in anyway has a connection to the Buddha, my mom shares the glory. As a kid, I did not remember that I was favored by the Buddha or chosen to do less homework than the other kids, a mole on my face certainly didn't being any privilege as it did to conversations.

My friends live as much in peace with my mole as I do. However, from time to time, it’s a perfect conversation starter. In Taiwan we have many different ways to tell one’s fortune, one of which is face reading. Face reading is a way of fortunetelling based on studying the proportion of the organs on your face, their relationships to one another, and also the positions of the moles or freckles. One day I walked past this face reading fortuneteller, who, in order to stir up some business, hang had a sign of a face with a million moles and freckles painted on it; Next to each moles and freckles, a small note indicates the meanings of having a mole or freckles on that particular spot. I remember seeing that for the mole growing between one’s eye browns, it reads “Buddha”, hence people’s saying about my connection with the Great Man. To my curiosity, I looked up other spots where I have freckles, one of which was a small brown dot on the tip of my nose. I looked closely, there was a note smaller than others next to this little dot on the tip of the nose and it read “slut”. Realized what I saw, I quickly walked away, feared that the fortuneteller would see my face and holler out, ardently want to give me advice.

After I moved to the United States, I learned that the moles are given entirely different meanings than it was in Taiwan. For the most part, they are called “beauty marks”, and are generally seen as a positive physical feature. However in the country that they called the milting pot, my mole, like a third eye that can’t really see, brings aspects of others’ perspective that I was not exposed to before. One day I traveled to Newark, New Jersey to visit my sister. I was in the lobby of the train station waiting for her to pick me up. The station was crowded with weekend travelers. After a while, I saw an Indian person walked toward me; when he was about five feet away from me, he put his two hands together, palm to plam, and gave me one slow and deep bow. Sparkles were in his eyes when he looked at me with what appeared to me his most sincerity. Facing such gesture my reaction was a wave of irritation. I looked at the man with a frown which made him walk away. Back in Taiwan people only do such praying gestures to the spirit or to the dead. The culture that talks about the balance between the yin and the yan is also the culture that wants to get the yin (death) away from the yan (living)---we don’t mix the living with the dead. Therefore when a person giving a gesture that should only be given to the dead, it’s a real bad luck.

I knew I was in a different country and such misunderstanding should be forgiven. As my sister laughed till she got tears in her eyes from hearing the story, I realized that as tempting as we want to see only the differences in people, after think more deeply, we share more things in common than we often realize. The Indian person’s gesture to me was a gesture of an Eastern religion, and the reason that I understood what he was doing was also because of my up brings; However the finer points of taboos between me and the Indian person’s cultures is now another can of warms.

Living in the twenty-first century, in the country where many women go through the nips and tucks to reach perfection, I was suggested to have my mole removed. “You are a very pretty girl”, said my aunt Grace with her best intention, “however, when people see you, they don’t see your face but your mole”. My uncle nodded with agreement, also looking at me. I looked at them and pictured myself in others’ mind according to my aunt, never did I realize I looked like a big brown dot with legs. The week following the lovely family gathering weekend, I saw a doctor about it. When I found myself sitting in the white exam room that smelt like rubbing alcohol, facing the blank walls I tried to recall what made it necessary for me to go through this trouble. Interrupted my thought was a woman in a white coat. She had dark skin, curvaceous figure and very voluptuous, full lips. “So, tell me why are you here today?” After explaining that I wanted to look into having my mole removed, the doctor wondered if I have noticed any changes occured to the mole that raise concerns of skin cancer. “No,” I said, “but I was told that it’s a major distraction on my face.” What an understatement. “Why,” said the doctor, “don’t you know it’s beautiful? That’s why it’s called the ‘beauty mark’, many people would die to have that, they even make fake ones so they can pretend they have one. I have one too, see,” the doctor bit her lower lip to show me the mole that hid just under the edge of her very full lower lip. “I am not getting rid of it.” She spontaneously licked her mole as she looked at me, her mole looked shinny now after she licked it. “Unless it’s cancer related, or other medical reason for you to remove the mole, it’s going to cost a lot of money. Plus it’s going to scar” As I walked out the hospital, for the first time in my adult life, I feel I was walking down the street not by myself, but also with my mole that parade on my face. It took me a while to get back to live in peace with my mole.

Dr. Harriet Wadeson, who wrote one of the greatest books about art therapy, once said that people who are troubled and seek for psychotherapy are often those who are not giving the meanings to their lives that they are looking for. Art, and visible marks we see and make to the outside, physical world, often are part of the process in our search for life’s meanings. Though the mole is on my face and right in the middle, I have decided that the person who is going to give this mark too much concern is not going to be me. What’s most important for me remain to be what I do beyond the surface of the matters. If someone is going to see it often, say, a boyfriend, then the task of making sense out of my mole would be his. Before that can happen, the guy has to really look hard and see beyond the fact that I am not a big brown dot with two legs.

Chiang Kai-Shek and Me

2007-09-25T20:46:00.000-04:00

March 14th 2007

In the Culture Center of the second largest city in the South of Taiwan—Kaohsiung, sat an eight-meter, 26 feet statue of the former ruler Chiang Kai-Shek. Chiang was active in of the early twentieth century in Taiwan and China, whose influence shaped every aspect of the Taiwanese society. Chiang was also at fault for the drawbacks and defeats of modern Taiwanese history; the damages he's done to the country and the regression he brought about, as we can see, will take generations of Taiwanese to repair and overcome. This week, the 26-year-old statue in the Kaohsiung Culture Center will be disassembled, removed and relocate to the city close to the burials of the Chiangs in North Taiwan. This is one of the many moves that the Taiwanese government made as part of the process to distinguish Taiwan from China. At the same time, the Taiwanese government is making clear that the modern government is different from the former authoritarian, military dictating rulership. Most importantly, this is an effort to separate politics from culture institutions. Outside the Kaohsiung Culture Center, which was recently renamed from Chung-Chen* Culture Center, a riot took place.

Chiang Kai-Shek retreated to Taiwan in 1949 after he lost the war against the Communists in mainland China. At the time, Taiwan was seen as a temporary base for the former Chinese government led by Chiang. The people and troops who came along with Chiang were enthusiastic about fighting the Communist and going back to China. Many of their dreams, which wasn’t quite the same as the local Taiwanese who's been on the island for many centuries, was to eliminate the Communist, make Taiwan and China one country, and reunite with the families they left behind.

Growing up in Taiwan in the 80s and the 90s, many things I did in school, which I couldn’t understand at the time, were the leftovers of Chiang’s military dictatorship. As the principle of my class in elementary school, I was responsible for ranking my classmates into straight lines every morning before we sang the anthem and raise the flag. I was instructed to call out “attention!” and “at ease!” simultaneously in Zhejiang accent. It took me years to figure out why the two words had to be pronounced in such a way that sounded completely out of place in a native Taiwanese’ ear. Turned out, the Zhejiang born former ruler’s accent and the way he stressed the two words when he drilled the troops were passed down by the officials who wanted to sound like him. Overtime, “attention!” and “at ease!” sounded only natural when pronounced with Zhejiang accent for all the people of Taiwan.

Back in the old days the most prestigious addresses in Taiwan were those on the street in front of every train station. The street, in every town and city in Taiwan shares one name, and that was the name of Chiang. The statues of the former leader were in every town, every school; his face was on our coins and bills; in the great hall of every school and above the black boards in every classroom were framed pictures of the former leader's smiling face. Growing up in the industrial age of Taiwan, the Taiwanese people's major concern was the booming economy; though from time to time the older politicians struggling to let go of the privileges they enjoyed when being part of the Chiang dictatorship was heard on the news, for the most part, Chiang’s bronze statues were the harmless decorations we all lived with. In some rare occasions, the tales of the statue came back to life and walk around the campus at night brought my attention to the bronze object whose details were flatten by the paint layered on him over the years.

In one hot summer day back in high school, after finished our Nursing class, my girlfriends and I returned to the homeroom where the boys were laughing hysterically. As the story unfold, the boys were in the Military Training class which took place in front of Chiang’s statue by the tracks. As the drillmaster exercised the boys in ranks, a bird crapped when flied over Chiang’s statue and the hot weather was making the bird shit melting on the statue's forehead. The glare sunlight reflected a sharp bright spot on the bronze statue’s forehead, as the white poop drip downward, it was as if the bronze statue of the former leader was also perspiring. Now looking back, what interest me more then the white poop on the dark colored statue's face was the fact that Military Training and Nursing were incorporated into our curriculum because Taiwan considered itself still at war with China. All the people in Taiwan must be informed and prepared at all time for the fight that will only take place in the dreams of the dying generation of veterans. Though such political ideal has not gone, the rigid military driven atmosphere no longer exist in the Taiwanese society. I can just imagine if it was back in Chiang’s days, we might see the drillmaster being the first one to climb onto the statue and wipe out "Mr. Chiang’s 'sweat'" as back then, such patriotic act might lead to some serious promotions and bonus points. However when I was in high school, even the drillmaster couldn't resist the tickles of the Chiang-and-shit combo.

As protesters screamed and local councilmen and women climbed over the wired barricades outside Kaoshiung Culture Center, thousands of policemen were activated to control the riot and ensure the disassembling and moving process of the 26 feet Chiang Kai-Shek statue. It was said that the removal of the statue was not only a statement of declaring Taiwan’s modern identity, but also part of the therapeutic process which many Taiwanese need in order to recover from a 40 year period of slaughter, imprisonment and disappearance of many educated Taiwanese men. As history unfold, the Chiang government was clamed to be responsible for the victims of the “White Terror Period” and the “228 incident”, who, were suspects of forming revolutions and conspiracies against Chiang’s dictatorship. As the bronze statue unassembled behind the wired barricades, the former ruler bought much spotlights and media coverage for the new generation of politicians whose backgrounds and upbringings were as relevant to him as my loyalty for the Zhejiang accent.

read the news about the statue removal
(* Chiang Kai-Shek was also named Chiang Chung-Chen)