Loving, hurting, still loving...

Being man for others, or putting others before you is the core philosophy of my university. Somewhere between graduating and getting work experience, that ideal was lost in me. I always associated it with doing charitable works, but I forgot that "Charity begins at home." One of the things we learn as we grow older is that our actions have consequences. As the years pile on, the consequences become heavier and wider-cast. A sign that you're near maturity is when you begin thinking of others before acting.

I don't want to call it my New Year's Resolution... I know it can't be done overnight. Every year I promise that I'll be a better person, but I still manage to hurt people I love, and worse, people who love me. There are wrongs that can't be forgiven no matter how many buckets of tears we shed. There are mistakes that are irreparable. I often feel that I don't deserve pardon, let alone receive love. I resort to severing ties and walking away, just letting bygones be bygones. But that's exactly what God wants us to realize: we deserve forgiveness no matter what, and when we refuse that idea we also refuse His love. Our real punishment is not losing the love of people, but seeing them continue to love us after our faults. No matter how difficult, our consequence is to accept their love and show greater love in return. As we make more mistakes, we become less and less lovable, thus less human, because we are not capable of loving others.

Today, I felt like the worst person in the world. Yet there's liberation in that. When you see yourself for what you really are in the eyes of someone you've wronged, you realize you just need to come clean and face the consequence, which is having your shit stare you in the face day after day after day.

All I want for Christmas...

I've always considered myself lucky to have found someone who really knows how to take care of a girl. And that doesn't only mean opening doors and putting food on my plate. It extends to making me take his vitamins and rushing me to the hospital for a couple of bruises because of a stupid fall.

So now it feels totally alien to be the one doing the nursing. B has been in the hospital since yesterday due to unrelenting fever. We suspect it's dengue, but the doctor says it's too early to tell. I've been helping his mom take care of him, which is all too familiar since I just came out of taking care of my brother who caught dengue last week. In my brother's case, I was in full control. I didn't even bat an eyelash. I knew how to make him well: by ordering him like a commander; "Drink water!" "Eat your fish!" "Have some fruit!" With B, just seeing someone who seems so sturdy and who knows more about health stuff than your local GP get overpowered by sickness makes me feel helpless.

When I had an injury, I laughed at B for being over-worried. It was just a few bumps and scratches... plus a couple of holes here and there (long story), but as Filipino elders like to say, "Malayo sa bituka." Now I understand what it's like to see your loved one in pain and having the laws of mortality prevent you from taking some of that pain for yourself. Yesterday B thanked me for being beside him, and I couldn't see what for. I was there and he was still sick.

Today before saying goodbye to him for the night, I whispered, "Happy Monthsary." We were supposed to have a nice dinner to celebrate, but I could see that this experience pronounces our togetherness more than anything else. This Christmas, all I want is him to be well; I don't even care if we ever go out on another nice date. But I have faith that this will come to pass, because if he loves me, he will get well. And he loves me.

The farewells begin

Tony came to see me in the men's store today. I met him early last month, on the first day I was left alone to mind the shop. It was after trading hours and I was doing the end of day paperwork. He popped in and asked if he could use our fax machine. Tony works at the watch shop across from us. He is in his mid-thirties and comes from Japan. Since that day, we became on smiling terms, occasionally waving good morning or mouthing "Are you busy?" when we'd pass each other on the way to the loo.

Yesterday while taking a ten minute break, I went to the women's store to say goodbye to a colleague. It was the last time I would see her because it's her day off today. I was feeling particularly sentimental and wanted to say goodbye to all the friends I've made in the building. I passed by Tony's store but he was busy.

Today at half past four, Tony was an especially welcome visitor because of the sluggish day. I was surprised to see him enter my shop though, as in the two months we've known each other we never went past waving hello from afar. I was staring at the screen looking at some figures when he walked in.

"Wake up, wake up!" he said cheerfully, clapping his hands. We made small talk, and finally I said, "It's my last day today."

Surprised, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"Home. To my country."

"Why?" he asked, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"Because I've finished my course."

Suddenly, Tony grabbed my hand and said, "Come, let's get married." When he let go, he said,

That's very sad news. Very sad news!"

We talked some more. He wanted to know when I'm coming back, and what I'm going to do back home. He told me a little bit about himself. It felt strange that we didn't know anything about each other until then.

"That's very said news today," he said again, shaking his head. "You should've worked here two months earlier! I would've married you!" He glanced at me before continuing, "Even though I'm about ten to twelve years older than you!" He revealed that he's thirty-five years old.

I didn't know what to say so I just laughed. Unfortunately it didn't dispel the awkward moment. In the end, after repeating what a bad news my leaving is three more times, we didn't have anymore to say. We said our farewells and wished each other luck.

"Say hi next time when you come back," he said.

"Okay, I will," I said.

He came in hoping to start something, and came out with an ending. Funny, I was able to say goodbye after all.

Everyday is a new adventure

At the train station today on my way home, I met a Chinese woman who's teaching economics and philosophy in a multicultural academy. We were waiting for the train to come. She approached me and said in English, "Can I ask a question? Where is a good restaurant?" I looked at her, puzzled.

"To eat," she said and mimed putting something in her mouth. She pointed at the monitor above us which was showing all the stations the train would stop at. I was still puzzled. Was she expecting me to pick one station as if the list was a menu?

"Are you Chinese?" she asked. I nodded. "I am looking for a nice restaurant to eat at. My daughter is waiting for me and she wants to have dinner," she explained, this time in Mandarin.

"Erm, Central has a lot of Chinese restaurants. It's where Chinatown is," I said in English. We were at Central station.

"Yes, but I've been to the restaurants in Chinatown," she said in English as well. I suggested a couple of places I've only heard about, and even offered my own suburb. But they were inconvenient for her. We were switching between English and Chinese because I couldn't speak in straight Mandarin. It turns out she's been in Australia for seven years. It figures she knows most of the stations I recommended, and I felt stupid for suggesting Chinatown. We moved on to talking about the weather, and she inquired about my background. In turn she told me about her daughter.

I caught her observing me. "Is that your real hair? Or did you dye it?" My hand instinctively went to my hair which had become bedraggled because of the awful heat. I tried to smooth it. "Um, it's my natural color," I said, embarrassed.

"Beautiful. Beautiful color. Beautiful girl," she said in English, to which I responded by thanking her shyly.

The train finally came. "Sit together?" she said with a smile. "It's nice to talk." The train ride felt like being stuck in an oven. There was no air conditioning; thankfully what little wind that was coming in through the windows was helping the air circulate.

We'd been talking for more than twenty minutes when I realized we still haven't formally introduced ourselves. Her name is Connie, 52. She has a 22 year old daughter working for the government in an auditing office. Her family came from Beijing, and now that they have settled in Australia, they have no plans of going back.

"Do you have a cellphone?" she asked. When I told her I do, she asked if I could text Angela, her daughter, for her. She handed me an outdated Motorola which I had to figure out. "I'm too slow, and I need to use reading glasses," she explained. She wanted to tell Angela she doesn't feel like going out tonight because it was too hot. Then she told me that it's Angela's birthday today, which was why she's insisting on eating out. I felt it wasn't unreasonable at all.

"Your parents must like you very much," she said after a while. "Do you have a boyfriend?" She seemed disappointed when she learned I do. She asked he looked like and whether I'm serious about him. She said if I didn't have a boyfriend, she knows many Chinese guys she can introduce to me. But she said it was nice that my boyfriend is many years my senior. "He must take good care of you, yes? Angela would also like an older boyfriend."

The train ride was becoming more and more unbearable. We moved to a roomier seat and fell quiet. "Rong Zhu ah," she said suddenly, calling me by my Chinese name. "You must stay. Stay. Australia is good." She said it like it was paining her that I was going home. It was the third time she tried to convince me. I just smiled.

"If you stay, I'd like you to be friends with my daughter," she said. I was flattered that she trusted me so quickly. "Last night," she said, suddenly excited, "my daughter's bestfriend-- also a girl-- celebrated her birthday. She had a party in a club in the city. There were many people there, a lot of Chinese. If we had met earlier, I'd have made you go. It would've been good. You would meet people."

I was beginning to wonder if she'd invite me to join them for dinner tonight. Thankfully, she didn't. She invited me to go to her church in Strathfield, however. I had confessed that I felt bad for not being able to speak Mandarin fluently, considering I spent 10 years of my life learning it. She said if I attended church with Chinese people, I'd be able to practice my Mandarin, and she could ask someone to accompany me. I thanked her but pointed out I don't have much time left in the country.

Finally, we were approaching her station. She got off but not before giving me her daughter's number and her email address. "You can give her a call, hang out," she said. "It was very pleasant meeting you, Rong Zhu! Goodbye!" And she was gone.

Funny the chance encounters that happen when we are alone. For that I love being a traveler. I am going to keep Angela's number. I'm curious about this girl who seems interesting; Connie says she hosts weddings because she can sing too. I've always wanted to have an entertainer friend. Who knows, I may get to meet her.

Don't be so serious, but take everything seriously

"We're all good when we want to be, otherwise we're fucking animals. There is no VIP room in reality, and there is no reality in this city (LA). You can't Google the answers. People talk about being on the ride of your life--- THIS IS YOUR LIFE.

Whatever it is you need to know, you already know. Imagine what it is to be in another country, another landscape-- heat, insects, fear. Imagine watching someone right in front of you trip a wire, step on a mine, blow their body to shreds, in mid-sentence, mid-cigarette. Imagine yourself splattered with human flesh. Imagine talking to that boy for the five minutes when he is profoundly conscious of the fact that he is not going to make it home. Imagine the difference between that and being in upstate New York, drinking beer, trying to get laid, and spending the summer as lifeguard at Lake George. Imagine zipping your friends into body bags. Tell me why anyone ever thought this was a good idea."

-- Excerpt from This Book Will Save Your Life by AM Homes

Thoughts about leaving...

Rubbish day at work.

Counting down the days... Just realized how much there is to do like cleaning my room to a sparkle and closing my bank account.

My friend said something that touched me last night. She thinks it's sad that I'm leaving. I'm always prepared to leave because my mind is set that I won't be missed. This morning my homestay father said they (the family) will miss me. I'm sure he was talking about the financial aspect of my presence, since we rarely see each other at home anyway, and when we happen to be in the living room at the same time, we just pretend the other doesn't exist. I'm guessing that's not normal housemate behavior. Oh well, I guess I won't win Big Brother any time soon.

Check out my yellow nails!

Nice and sunny to cheer me up when working. :D