May 17th, 2009
A couple years ago, I bought my father a camera for Father’s Day. I knew it was something he wanted and would enjoy while he traveled to Vietnam to visit family. When he returned from his trip, he asked me to bring his camera in for repairs because the lens would not retract. After much questioning, my father eventually confessed that the camera had been dropped.
I felt completely heartbroken when he told me. I felt hurt that my father would be so careless with what I had given him. It wasn’t a very expensive camera, nor did it have any special functions. It was just a practical camera. But I had spent so much time and effort getting it for him, and was so excited to have him use it, I was just hurt that it didn’t mean anything to him. As I searched for reasons to justify how he could’ve allowed it to happen, I knew it was only right for me to replace his camera.
That incident never crossed my mind again until I finally made a trip to Vietnam this year. I was in the midst of a casual conversation with a relative when it was brought up again. She said my father was very upset when a relative of ours dropped his camera while taking a picture. She said my father remained quiet for days looking depressed, and when asked what was the matter, he only mumbled “My daughter gave it to me.”
My father has never been the type to express himself. Even when he cares deeply about something, he keeps it to himself. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t understand the importance of communicating with one another, or maybe he simply doesn’t know how to show that he cares through his actions. But because he never showed that he cared, I never felt that he did.
Hearing the truth about the camera incident from a third person made me realize something very important. You can’t care about someone just by knowing that you do. That’s not caring - that’s letting yourself think that you care. You’re also not caring when you’re just watching from afar. That’s just satisfying your curiosity. To care about someone means to allow the person to feel and acknowledge that you care. Words need to be supported by physical action. It needs to be seen and felt.
Because at the end of the day, that is what matters.
April 14th, 2009
I have had a long time fear of pigeons. It used to be because I thought they were dirty; lack-lustre birds that wandered streets aimlessly. Most importantly though, I didn’t like their attitude. They never seemed to mind where they were going and were not afraid of people. I hated having to walk around pigeons to avoid being trampled over by them.
Then one day, when I mentioned this to my co-worker, he looked at me funny and said, “Who gave you the rights to the streets? They’re not getting in your way. The pigeons have just as much right as you do to walking the streets!” It finally struck me. As much as I despise pigeons, I can’t hate them for roaming the streets like it is theirs. Because this world isn’t my own and every living thing has the right to enjoy this world as I do.
From that day on, every time I pass by a pigeon on the street, I look at them differently. I’m still afraid of them and I still think they’re dirty. But I respect the fact that, no matter how people look at them, they still strut down the street like they own it, not caring what anyone else thinks of them.
April 11th, 2009
I remember that day on the train as I was making my way home after work.
Minding my own business, I was about to doze off when a girl sat down next to me. It was no more than a minute later that I started to hear a gentle wimper. Careful not to make any big movement of my head, I peeked from the corner of my eye and noticed the girl had started to cry. She sat there, next to me, crying for several stops.
I don’t remember what she looked like because I never turned my head to look at her. And when she got up to leave the train, I was too ashamed to make any eye contact.
I wish I had done something; offer her a kleenex or ask if she was okay. Anything. But I didn’t. I was afraid to, just like everyone else on the train who just silently watched and wondered what was wrong with this girl.
Perhaps I’ll never know what the result of my inaction was, or how I could have affected this girl’s life had I taken the initiative to share a caring word. But I’ll always remember what it felt like to remain silent when someone else was in need. And I’ll never let myself forget that.
March 27th, 2009
People are given different qualities at birth. Some are blessed with beauty, others with intelligence. Some are given beautiful voices, others with special talents. The list of qualities are endless.
I strongly believe that every person possesses some kind of quality.There are people in this world who don’t have beauty or wisdom, but instead they might have a happy-go-lucky personality that allows them to experience happiness everyday. Or they might find it easy to turn negative experiences into positive thoughts. That is the quality they were blessed with.
Although I’m not extraordinarily eye-catching in appearance, I think I would consider myself to be blessed with beauty. I also think that I am an intelligent individual who possess a lot of learned wisdom. For the most part, I am quite lucky. But like I said, life is very fair. Though I was given beauty, intelligence and wisdom, I was not given the open heart that is needed to find happiness in everyday life. I’ve learned to accept the fact because I understand that no person can have it all.
March 22nd, 2009
As if I’m standing in front of a door, I’m excited to find out what’s on the other side of it. But at the same time, I’m afraid to open the door because I’m afraid there’s nothing on the other side.
March 18th, 2009
I’m not the person you see. You may think you know me, you may even think you know me very well. And maybe you do, but you probably only know one side of me.
Perhaps it was because I used to strive to be the best at what I enjoyed doing. Being capable led others to give me responsibilities. Over time, I was expected to be mature and responsible, the one to take care of things and ensure things were done properly. Bit by bit I became this working robot for everyone else.
At home, with my parents not fully competent with the English language, the responsibility fell on me early to take care of things in the house. From reading letters to making phone calls regarding issues I was too young to understand, my parents depended on me. It always felt like I was forced to stand at the frontline. And as a child, I hated it.
When shopping for clothes, I always want to find something different from what I already have. People also tell me to do the same, but strangely enough when I do choose things out of the norm, people shoot me down by telling me it’s not me. In the occasion where I actually listen to the opinions of others, it turns out they are the ones who tell me to change but keep me from doing so. I’ve given up. There also seems to be this misconception about me being the innocent girl. Many times people have said, “Don’t say that in front of Frances!” as if my ears would be tainted by vulgar words. Each time I swear, it seems to shock everyone. I became sculpted by the environment around me because I had no choice but to be what others expected me to be.
So I fight. I constantly try to fight my way out of this stereotype because I despise it. And that’s why, when the rebel inside me is unleashed, it’s difficult to tame. I behave in ways that are different from the person you see and the person I truly am. I act out my anger and frustration of not being able to break free by doing things people don’t normally think I would do. Through actions and emotions, it is the only way to let out the feeling of repression that has found it’s home inside me for many years.
If I could choose, I would be me. The other side of me. The side who enjoys having fun, laughing over silly things, being a child and careless of what others expect of me. Instead of dealing with issues and taking care of things I don’t want to, I would want to be taken care of for once.
I’m just not given that option.
March 18th, 2009
I’ve never been the type of person to ask questions.
I spend a lot of time wondering and trying to figure things out for myself. I expect people to tell me what they want me to know, and I assume they don’t want me to know about it if they’re not telling me. When I don’t hear from people, I think they’re either busy or they don’t want to talk to me. Or I assume I haven’t crossed their minds. I don’t take initiative in contacting others because I feel like I’m bothersome. Simply put, I’m very passive.
But I’ve begun to understand that asking questions is an integral part of maintaining any type of relationship. Trust comes from understanding, where assumptions only cause misunderstandings and confusion. Without trust, relationships between one another can’t exist.
And so I’m learning.
It’s a start.
March 8th, 2009
It started out like any other Friday at work. With my clipboard and papers in hand, I was running around the store trying to finish my tasks when a customer stopped me. She was looking for a book named “Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway”. Although I have never read the book, I had heard about it through many customers. I took this customer up to the self-help section to find the book.
On our way to the section, we started talking. She said she wanted to read the book because she felt she really needed it to help her get through this rough time. I learned that her husband had just passed away a few months ago and is now left with three children - a boy and two teenage girls - as well as a mortgage and no life insurance.
Through our conversation, I found myself telling her the things I had learned from the self-help books I have read. I just kept talking and talking, not knowing how much of what I said was actually heard; she just kept nodding her head. Then she continued to tell me her story of how her mother took her own life away. Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. I patted her on her shoulder as she sniffed back her tears. Finally she looked at me and said, “You’ve been absolutely right…everything you said. I feel like I was meant to meet you today.”
I thought it was pretty ironic when she said I should be a psychologist or a counsellor. She agreed with a lot of what I had said and trusted my advice. She said she would do whatever she could to get herself through it all, and I told her I know she’ll be able to do it. I honestly thought she could. There was a positive vibe that surrounded her and, despite the fears that she had mentioned, I could tell she was a very strong woman.
As I watched her leave, I secretly wished her happiness. At the same time, I wondered how I could put my own words into action. Maybe if I would only take a piece of my own advice, I’d be half way closer to finding the courage to face my fears.
February 16th, 2009
I called the airline reservations center today to assign seats for an upcoming flight. As usual, I introduced myself to the call center rep and explained to him what I wanted. After asking for relevant information, he said he’d have a look to see what was available.
Then he said to me, “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but just listening to your voice, I can only picture what a beautiful and nice person you are.”
I managed to stutter out a “Why, thank you” while still trying to let his comment digest. I told him it must be interesting to spend all that time talking to people over the phone, only hearing their voices and never being able to see their facial expressions. We ended up talking over the phone for half an hour.
He told me he had been working there for 20 years. From experience, he had learned to speak to each individual differently. Sometimes, that means getting to know the stranger on the other end of the line. He said a few days ago, he talked a woman out of a one-way flight to Rome. Being the curious person that he may be, he asked her what she was going to Italy for. After some polite prying, he learned that the woman had just lost her job, broke up with her boyfriend (after two unsuccessful marriages), and was flying to Rome because she wanted to see the Pope. That’s not to mention she had two sons, both under the age of 10.
The call center rep said he simply could not make the booking for her because he felt that it would be irresponsible for this woman to get up and go, leaving her under-aged children at home. What was the Pope going to do for her? The woman eventually broke down. By the end of their conversation, the woman thanked him for talking her out of her impulse decision. She said no one ever listened to her, no one was ever there to talk to her. And she was thankful that this call center rep had taken the time to care about her, not as a friend or anything more, just as another human being.
He mentioned that he had no idea what happened to this woman from there on. He didn’t know if she was any happier or if she was living her life more positively after their conversation. But he said it was fulfilling to know that he had said and done everything he could to shed some light on this woman’s life, even though their encounter was very brief.
I don’t know how old this person was or what he looked like, but I could tell he was a very nice person. And about my seats? Well, on a fairly full flight, he managed to assign seats for me that I wouldn’t have been able to assign for myself had I tried to select them by myself online.
I was thankful to have spoken to this particular person, not because he helped me with my seats but because he made me realize that this is the feeling of fulfillment that I seek in every day life.
February 15th, 2009
There is a particular set of stairs at Union Station that I have walked up and down perhaps half a million times. You see, there is a railing in the middle of the staircase to separate it into two sides. Sometimes I would walk down the right; at other times down the left. On this particular day, I chose the left because a large group of people were headed down the right side.
I was almost half way down the stairs when I saw a woman walking up the stairs with her daughter on my side of the staircase. I kept to the right, close to the railing. I figured she and her daughter still had plenty of room to pass by me if they would just walk to their right like any other person would do. But as she got closer to me, she looked straight at me and said to her daughter, “See…everyone walks on the right side. Except for this girl, she’s on the wrong side.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
The woman dragged her daughter around me to get by, glaring at me the entire time. Honestly, I had no intentions of giving the woman and her daughter a hard time. I stopped because I was just so surprised by the completely random comment she intentionally directed at me. In those few seconds, I thought about what she said. But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t seem to make sense of it.
How could she tell me I was on the wrong side when there was NO right or wrong side to walking up or down that staircase? There were no signs indicating one could only walk to the right of the railing. Why was she criticizing my decision on where to…walk?
And then it occurred to me that there are many things in life that can not be labeled right or wrong, because there simply is no right or wrong to it. We only use it to justify our behaviour.
In this case, the woman chose to be right on her terms. She just didn’t know that I chose to be right too.
February 14th, 2009
“Find someone who loves you not for how you look but respects you in what you believe in. And remember, it’s not about looking for a good person. Look for the person who is right for you.“
- the white man from China
February 13th, 2009
A week ago, I met one of those inspiring random strangers.
If I had judged him by his appearance, I never would have known that I could have a two and half hour long conversation with him standing in my store. He was a man in his late 50’s, obviously a westerner. He didn’t appear very well dressed - slacks, leather jacket, and a bag over his shoulder. His right eye seemed to remain closed a lot; I later found out his right side was partially paralyzed. He was also one of those customers who didn’t want to be bothered while he looked around, so I just silently watched as he maneuvered around my store.
After overhearing him talk on his cell phone, I was surprised to find that he spoke Mandarin very well. In our conversation, I found out that he had business in China and had learned his Mandarin from living there. He mentioned he had travelled throughout the country and was very familiar with both the Chinese cities and its culture. At first, I didn’t find that very surprising. But as he continued to talk about each city with reference to Chinese traditions, philosophy, and politics, I realized he was not just a well-traveled person. The degree in which he knew the country was beyond what I expected from a foreigner.
I told him I will be making my first visit to China very shortly, and without hesitation he told me everything I would need to know. Everything from safety, the weather, the cost of getting from one place to another, down to what streets were good for buying what items. He warned me of scams and told me stories from his own experiences. I learned of what teas I could buy to ensure quality and where I should go in Hangzhou to sit down for tea. Beijing, Xi’an, Guilin, Shanghai, Hangzhou, Suzhou, Nanking, and many other places I had never even heard of…he knew it all.
Finally, an hour later, he was done. And when he asked what else I wanted to know, I shook my head and told him I couldn’t think of anything else I would need to know. Before I even had the chance to ask a single question, he had already answered all of them.
Then somehow, we started talking. Not about China anymore, about life. He told me he moved to China from Vancouver when he was 40. Not knowing a single word in Chinese or anything about business, and not knowing anything about China or anyone there, he took the leap to establish his business in a land completely foreign to him. Impossible is nothing, he said. After he said that, it was as if he knew exactly what my weaknesses were. He pushed all the right buttons. The things he said seemed to unlock one after another the closed doors in my mind. And he kept reiterating, “I don’t know you and you don’t know me” as if to say that he had no reason to impress me, I’m not his client, he didn’t know what my life situation was nor did he need to know.
Listening to this person talk, I could feel that he was a very rich person. Not in terms of wealth, where he considers his US$280,000 watch to be “petty”. He was rich in knowledge, as well as understanding of life and people. He may have become successful in business because he understands Sun Tzu’s idea of choosing the right time for battle, but I consider him successful as a human being because of his humbleness, sincerity and willingness to share his experiences with a completely random stranger such as myself.
When he finally left, I found myself mesmerized from the beauty of meeting such a person so randomly. A person who knew nothing about you, the way you think, or who you are, and yet they speak the words that you need to hear to understand yourself a little more.
He was right. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him.
I never even knew his name.
December 28th, 2008
At some point in time, I started building a wall. A thick and sturdy wall. Its purpose was to guard my heart and protect it from being hurt. But as time went by, I realized that this wall wasn’t protecting my heart like I thought it was supposed to. Instead, it was only keeping people out.
I’m afraid of taking down this wall because I deathly fear the pain within it. At the same time I know that until I break it down, the pain will always remain settled in there and it will forever prevent me from letting people in.
I need to rid this wall and remember that fear is the only thing that ever stops people from doing the things they want to do.
Fear is the reason we’re here.
December 21st, 2008
Someone once claimed that happiness can be seen through the face; when a person is happy, she tends to look prettier. If this theory holds true, then I must be more unhappy than I thought.
When I looked in the mirror the other day, a pale-faced girl stared back at me. She had a familiar face, but something about her was different. There was no spark in her eyes, no smile on her face. As if her soul was missing, her glare looked empty.
Who was she? How did she become this way? What can I do to help her?
And then I realized it was my own reflection.
October 10th, 2008
It happened again last night. We fought because it didn’t want to put up with my negligence and poor treatment anymore. I should have listened and been more aware. I need to do better.
I have an on-again, off-again relationship with my health. We broke up again last night, and it almost killed me. Every time I get that kind of pain in the stomach, I know it’s my body complaining. Sometimes I get angry at it and just leave it alone until it stops whining. But at times when I recognize it was indeed my own fault, I make it up by taking my medicine diligently. We always make up again.I know this isn’t a healthy relationship though. Sometimes I worry that one day we will not make up because so many problems would have accumulated and it would be too late to fix anything. But beneath all that, I think there is an even greater problem: I just don’t love it enough. Because if I did, I would give it more attention. It would be my priority, at all times. And I would never make up excuses for my actions or inaction.
The time is now if I want to make things right. I have to change. Because if I don’t, I know it’s just a matter of time before it is going to kill me.
August 29th, 2008
Posted
at 12:33 am in
Life The same day that Georgia’s flight left for Madrid, I received a voice mail from a good friend.
It was at a time when every door seemed to close on me. Pam and I haven’t spoken in just over a year. I was surprised that she called as I had been thinking of her recently. Though I didn’t get a chance to speak with her that day, it was comforting to know that she still remembered me.
I know I’ve been putting off a lot of things, screening a lot of calls, and not returning a lot of messages as of late. Between farewells, agency merges and many days of work, I just needed some time to stomach everything. And surprisingly, when I stopped avoiding and putting off the tasks that I dreaded doing, I realized that the tasks themselves weren’t so hard after all. Suddenly, a new door opened for a much better alternative for the business, and I’m hearing from people I haven’t heard from in a while.
Finally it occurred to me that when one door closes another one will open for you, as long as you reach out your hand to turn that handle.
I really look forward to catching up with Pam, well…when I eventually get around to returning her call.
Better late than never.
August 22nd, 2008
After a few weeks of isolating myself, I finally realize what’s been wrong with me.
Six of my good friends are moving out of the city this month, 4 of which are moving out of the country. There are also several departures from work and changes occurring outside of it, and I’ve been trying my best to cope with it all. But it’s hard watching your friends leave when you’re left here to face the loneliness…alone.
Sure, I’ve felt unhappy before. Confused, stressed, overwhelmed even. For the first time though, I feel sad. I actually feel sad. I almost don’t want to believe that this is the reason for my isolation, even though it’s obvious that my sensitivity to the matter has been creating emotional distress. I don’t want to face the world alone and deal with the changes that are forced upon me. I just want to deny myself from accepting reality. So I remain quiet and I keep to myself, as if that will make getting through this time a little easier.
After all, ignorance is bliss until it no longer is.
July 18th, 2008
A hotel friend was talking to my coworker and I last week about the Mayan prophecy of December 21, 2012 being the end of civilization. I’m not sure how much I actually believe that the world will come to an end on this particular day, but it did get me thinking.
If we knew what our expiry dates were, would we live our lives any differently?
There are some things in life that we will NEVER know. And because we don’t know, we can only live in hope. We hope that we’ll have all the time in the world to achieve all that we want to achieve. We end up taking life for granted, failing to cherish our time.
If I could know for certain that the world would end on December 21, 2012, I would probably make the best out of the next 4 years. Or if I knew exactly how much time I had left to live, I would probably do everything I want to do before that time is up. I would travel the world, spend more time with the people who matter, and never hesitate to do or say anything again.
But I don’t know. And that’s why those words will never come out.
July 15th, 2008
Ever since things in my life began to fall into place, I’ve noticed myself only feeling more miserable. It didn’t make sense to me at first, but after much thought, I’ve realized why.
I think at some point in time, I stopped listening to myself. Instead of following my heart, I started listening to the voices around me. And although everything appeared to work in my favour and seemed to be best for me, it wasn’t at all.
It’s hard for me to explain to anyone and have them understand. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone understanding if it’s taken me this long to figure it out for myself. Anyone can tell me what’s best for me, but how much do they really know about me to make that kind of judgment? No other person will ever feel the same emotions as I, and that’s a big part of what dictates the kind of action or inaction I am to take in everything I do. No one can ever know what makes me happy and what doesn’t. No one should ever make that kind of decision for me.
When I stopped listening to my heart, I drifted in a direction that only led me further away from what I really wanted and believed in. I ended up somewhere good, but it just wasn’t where I wanted to be and that made me unhappy.
Don’t let me make the same mistake again.
July 11th, 2008
I recall someone once telling me that when God created people he separated each person into two. That is why, generation after generation, we spend our lives looking for our missing halves.
Although I’m not particularly religious, a conversation at work today got me thinking heavily about this subject. After work, I found myself walking aimlessly around downtown Toronto. I had no destination in mind. I just followed my heart. I walked passed building after building, only stopping at each traffic light, until I came to the corner where two streets met. Then I stood there, closed my eyes and soaked in the warm summer sun as I listened to the sound of the bustling city. I enjoyed that brief moment of isolation. Somewhere inside I smiled.
I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I never find my other half. Would I spend the rest of my life walking aimlessly in search of these brief feelings of enjoyment to fill the void? Will I some day get used to the feeling of loneliness? Would I be happy?
I don’t remember how far I walked, but it didn’t even matter because wherever I was, my heart took me there. And when I grew tired, I decided to go home.