Sky is always blue

Mom and I reunited

After a long time taken for serious deliberation, I have decided to end my relationship with Livejournal and move on to Wordpress as the new service provides the simple yet innovative tools for my blogging activities. It is clearly that Livejournal has served me well and I am grateful for all of it. Also, the communities I discovered are wonderful and the virtual lj friends I have are incomparable. But it is time for me to make the transition.

It is just a physical change of the location but the content/style/writing/topics will still reflect my imperfectionistic self. Hence, the Queen of Imperfection has found her new Queendom in the land of Wordpress.

So if I lead, will you follow me?

This entry is in Vietnamese -- advance apology for the diversion from writing a second entry about my first-year college roommate which I promised to continue from the last post. I will resume to this particular topic once I have the chance to vent whatever I currently have on my mind in Vietnamese.

Mấy ngày hôm nay trong office, mọi người nôn nao hí hửng chờ đón một mùa Giáng Sinh đang cận kề. Dường như tất cả các câu chuyện to nhỏ ngoài lề work-related xoay chung quanh vấn đề shopping, chọn quà cho gia đình, holiday plans sẽ làm gì, ai sẽ nấu ăn, ai sẽ host ai...Trong sở có khoảng 20 người nhưng có một mình mình tỉnh lặng, không tham gia vào việc bàn tán đó vì thật sự cũng không có gì để chia xẻ với họ.

Sống và lớn lên trong một gia đình không quan trọng hóa vấn đề quà cáp, đặc biệt là quà Giáng Sinh vì chưa bao giờ cả gia đình xem những ngày lễ của đạo Thiên Chúa làm phong tục tập quán của riêng gia đình mình. Thế nên mình không quen cái vụ mua quà cáp tặng qua tặng lại cho ai cả, ngoại trừ những món quà để tham gia Yankee Swap mang tính chất vui nhộn với bạn bè mà thôi. Hôm kia cô thư ký riêng của mình thở dài, bảo rằng thằng cháu mới 11 hay 12 tuổi gì đó đòi ông già Nô En tặng một cái iPod trong đêm Giáng Sinh. Nghe xong mình cũng giật mình vì một đứa bé mới bằng tuổi ấy mà đã biết vòi vĩnh những món quà đắt tiền như thế. Nhưng mình cũng không nói gì vì đây là văn hóa và phong tục của họ nên đành keep my opinion to myself. :) Chỉ cười cười mà thôi.

Nói xa thì cũng phải nhìn gần. Ông anh thứ ba của mình cũng là một trong những người thích conform sau khi lấy vợ, có con, có nhà riêng. Bà chị dâu cũng mua cây thông về, treo tòn ten các quả bóng lấp lánh, rồi giăng đèn ngang dọc, rồi quà cáp cho anh chị họ hàng xa gần (ngoại trừ cho mình). Đứa cháu năm nay 6 tuổi, không biết là nó sẽ được các bác các cậu cho quà gì...năm nào cũng đủ thứ quần áo, đồ chơi, phim DVD, và các xa xí phẩm không cần thiết cho một đứa bé 5 hay 6 tuổi cho lắm. Quần áo rồi nó cũng mặc chật vì con nít lớn nhanh, đồ chơi thì chơi vài ngày cũng chán. Sau vài tháng thì các thứ đồ chơi nằm lăn lóc tứ tung, rồi đến hè cũng phải đem bỏ ngoài thùng rác. Cứ như vậy, năm nào đến sinh nhật hay mùa lễ như vầy là nó mong đợi quà từ người này đến người khác. Vậy mà ông anh và bà chị dâu ít khi nào dạy cho nó về giá trị của tiền, về những giờ giấc đi làm cực khổ với minimum wage. Mấy tuần trước gọi điện thoại cho ông anh, bảo rằng phải mở một cái college saving account cho nó, rồi khi ai đó cho quà hay quần áo, giử lại receipts, ra tiệm đổi lại lấy tiền rồi bỏ vào trương mục để dành cho sau này. Như vậy thì có chút practical hơn, và giúp nó biết về the value of money. Chứ để năm nào cũng như vậy hoài thì nó chỉ biết tiền là từ trên trời rơi xuống.

Thêm một chuyện chướng tai gai mắt mà mình chưa bao giờ nêu ra (vì sợ mất lòng ông anh) là cứ mùa Giáng Sinh thì gia đình bên bà chị dâu ùa nhau quà cáp như cả nhà đã theo đạo Thiên Chúa, còn đến khi Tết Nguyên Đán thì không ai làm gì nhiều, chỉ qua loa rồi xong, không cúng tổ tiên, không dạy cho nó ý nghĩa của ngày Tết. Như thế thì khác gì bác bỏ phong tục tập hóa của mình mà đi theo đại chúng người bản xứ. Làm như vậy thì làm sao dạy nó về văn hóa của người Việt, phong tục của ông cha? Làm như vậy không khác gì bảo nó cứ đi theo người Mỹ mà quên đi gốc gác người Việt.

Bởi vậy mình không thích cái văn hóa quà cáp theo vật chất của xứ này và cũng không practice theo họ cũng như khi thấy những người VN khác, không theo đạo, mà ùa ạc quà cáp là mình thấy khó chịu. Mình làm như vậy không được vì đó như ép mình giả dối với chính mình. Không biết ngoài mình ra còn có ai có quan điểm tương tự như mình không. Nhìn qua nhìn lại thì đa số ai cũng tham gia vào văn hóa quà cáp của người Mỹ. Why is it so easy for them to conform? Or is it just me with my peculiar resistance to total assimilation?

Mình nghĩ 2 năm của graduate school về intercultural studies đã thấm dần vào trong tiềm thức, cách suy nghĩ và phân tích những khái niệm về bảo tồn văn hóa/phong tục trong một xã hội đa văn hóa như ở xứ này. Cultural identity is so salient and yet so malleable. Perhaps that's why i am so ferociously protective of it and strongly resisting conformation.

Note: Những gì viết ra ở trên là viết theo kinh nghiệm và quan điểm cá nhân. Your (opposing) point of views are strongly welcome if there is any.

My first-year roommate was an international student, hailed directly from Taiwan to the town of Saint Joseph, Minnesota. It was her first trip abroad ever; just imagine the kind of cultural shocks she encountered. Apparently, Maria was strongly influenced by her aunt, who has already been a nun at the Catholic convent on campus, she was aspired to become a Catholic nun with a strong conviction. (Side note -- that nun was my Mandarin professor for the entire year!). By stating the fact that she has a "strong conviction" for her faith, I mean to say that she would get up at 4 am every morning, regardless if it was weekday or weekend, to read endless verses from her bilingual bible, from the Old to the New Testaments.

That's not it, she often finished the reading with a 5-minute of mumbling out her prayers. Precisely at 5 am in the morning, when the church bell chimed (very soothing for my morning sleep), she would be out of the door lugging the bible inside her bag for her 5:30 am religious mass and breakfast with the nun/aunt at the convent. In the evening, if she was not stuck in a late class, you would find her kneeling on a church pew in solitude mumbling her prayers to God, asking for redemption and making that holy cross. That was not the end of it though, she would repeat her morning bible-reading routine at 8 pm at night and another 5-minutes prayer before bed.

Her religious commitment was awe-inspiring but I suffered for a whole semester of constant feed of forceful sermons in broken English as Maria was trying to convert me to become a Catholic. In all considerations, I had nothing against Catholicism (or any other religions for that matter), but am frustrated when others bluntly impose their faiths on me with coercion and insistently put my faith below the line of humanity just because they claimed mine was not as "good" as theirs. I openly oppose this kind of subtle oppression because that's not what a true religion teach people to do. It is practically immoral, that is for the lack of a better term. Eventually, my strong conviction prevailed against her and Maria ceased to recite her usual preaching about God and the Trinity of God. For all I cared at the time was to pass my Theology class, which was required as a core course for all first-year students. (FYI -- I received an A for that particular class, the professor was a Catholic Father).

Anyway, before I digressed, let me state that I was not much of an expert myself for the many things I was gradually exposed to up until now. However, on some level, I had a better comprehension of the surrounding of the American culture than Maria had. Hence between the two of us, she was comparatively the naive one. As for me, I anticipated the experiences from watching Beverly Hills 90210 and other similar shows that were famous at the time. Yet, nothing could prepare me for the wild life most girls had at a Catholic school where I was excluded (and happy that I was) out from the majority.

For the first semester, I had this love/hate relationship for her. At times I detested her religious biases towards other non-Catholic faiths, but on the other side, I pitied her for not having a sense of what the world is beyond Catholicism. She was so consumed in her own little religious bubble. It was very frustrating most of the time. Apparently, Maria came to Saint Joseph with a clear purpose -- to get a college degree and to serve God the way her aunt has been doing. What she didn't expect in college was to live with a bunch of hormonally raging, insanely boy-obsessive group of young 18- and 19-year-old caucasian girls who lived on the same floor. If I count my fingers, there were only 3 students of color among the myriad of blondies.

(part 2 will come soon...)

Mistakes are inevitable.

I know that much is true, but I still hate it everytime I made a mistake.

The fact is, I have been making a lot of mistakes lately. GRRRRR! The worse part is...all these mistakes are work-related.

I am doomed.

How many time should I be hating myself for making all these mistakes?

Digging up the old Yahoo! Photos, which has been forgotten for a few years, I found these...

Just in case I haven't disclosed my ethnic affinity, I am a quarter Chinese in relations to my mother's side. However, due to multiple displacements from the original lineage, I hereby admit the lack of knowledge in things related to my Chinese heritage, particularly the language itself. Two scattered semesters of Mandarin in college didn't carry much weight to adequately reclaim my roots that could be traced back to the long line of blood-related relatives in China.

My maternal grandfather was born and raised in southern China. During the 1930s political turmoil and while he was in his late teens, the great-grandparents decided to send him and two male cousins across the borders to Vietnam, perhaps to avoid military draft. The emigration details are very blurred because my grandmother and mother have never fully disclosed the historical backgrounds of his life. Apparently, he ended up working as a blacksmith in Rạch Giá (very southern of Vietnam) where he was arranged to marry my grandmother whose family also emigrated to Vietnam from China decades ago in the late 1800s. Many years later, after the separation from my grandmother and his children, he moved to Sài Gòn and supported his living with the sole expertise in blacksmiths.

Okay, that would make me 1/2 Chinese, not a quarter.

Mom grew up speaking a Chinese dialect known as Tiều Châu (siew chaw?) but only to my Chinese grandmother. It was their secret code for serious discussion of serious matters that would more likely affect the livelihood of the entire family. Hence, my Chinese grandfather had always been at a distance to his grandchildren due to the language barriers. He had never managed to learn proper Vietnamese throughout his life in Vietnam. I remember when he moved to our house a year or so before his death, we often found him standing tall looking down at us younglings and smiling very warmly, but hardly communicate anything. We giggled whenever he said something in Vietnamese and I guess it eventually made him self-conscious of his ability. We were kids, and ignorant, we didn't know better.

I still don't know much about my grandfather but there were a few memorable stories I still keep about him. First, he was an opium addict throughout his entire life, prompting from his youth in China perhaps during the Opium War (my educated guess). During the seldom occasions of his visits, he would retreat to his own corner and burned little black pearls of opium sap on a teaspoon and hastily sniffed the black liquid through a glass straw he always carried with him. It was very bizarre, but as a child, I was fixated of his addiction-feeding act and found it intriguing.

The second memory I had of him was the vivid moment of his death. It was the summer of 1987, and my grandfather had lived with us for almost a year after selling his property in Sài Gòn, then moved to Vũng Tàu for my family to take care of him. He had been gotten ill and my parents anticipated his passing but never expected the way he died. I was 10 at the time but very responsible for all the chores at home, including the assignment of checking on my grandfather. Basically, I was his personal attendant. One bright morning when my younger brother and I performed our chore of transporting water from the well to the house, as usual, we kept it quiet while grandfather was in bed. After the first or second trip from the well, we both discovered my grandfather's lankly body hanging lifelessly on a rope that was tied to the top of a wooden staircases.

He hung himself and ended his life with a single loop of rope.

My brother and I stood there for a few minutes, both were shock at the horrible sight. My brother was 8 at the time, and I bet he didn't know much. I remembered he turned to me and ask "sister, how come grandpa does not stand on a chair?" and that's when I noticed the chair lay horizontally on the floor, skewing away from the the vertical alignment of where his body dangled.

Many years later, on different occasions, I still think of him and particularly about his death. It was unfortunately that I didn't get to know him nor was I given the chance to do so; I was too young to understand the importance of family heritage at the time. My trip to China in 1999 was merely academic, but on a very personal level, it was a tribute to my lost heritage and to my Chinese grandfather. It was certainly emotional.

My mother had tried to find the off-springs of grandfather' cousins in Sài Gòn but to no avail; they were all disbanded during the years of political turmoil in Vietnam. Rumor has it that there were some of them who have immigrated to the U.S and dispersed around the west coast, and the other scattered to nearby countries in Southeast Asia such as Singapore and Hong Kong. There goes another generation of displacement.

So many of you out there with the Chinese last name "Lâm", you are my long lost relatives.

I want to cry tonight for no particular reason. Don't worry, I am fine and perfectly sane. It's just one of those temperamental moments. I am sure some of you got a few of those passing by your days. Perhaps it's the mood swing, or maybe because that abysmal pain I share with my bestfriend still viciously linger. If neither one of those could explain the mood, then I might have to contribute this sudden surge of tears to the mushy episode of cải lương I watched on HTV a few hours ago.

Talking about Cải lương, oh boy, I used to fervently detest these cải lương dramas as I grew up watching my parents watching them. My open opposition has now returned to haunt me. Little that I knew, the curse is on me.

Now you can feed me with more mushy stuff, such as those tear-jerking, time-wasting and yet addictive Korean melodramas and cải lương as the antidotes for my idiosyncratic inclination of emotions. My mother always said "lấy độc trị độc" as to use poison to cure poison, a figurative of speech, not literally. Maybe with more of these mushy stuff, I will be inverted back to the original pre-temperamental state.

Whatever that is, I am weird in my own eccentric way.

Forest Gump once said, "Life is like a box of chocolate, you'd never know what you're gonna get."

I could begin this entry with a string of descriptive words and terms entailing the philosophical nuances about the manifestation of life. Unfortunately, such simple articulation of thought couldn't come easily because I am still trapped in the news from yesterday.

Life is precarious.

At the age of 5 months old and still in its feeble fetal form, floating in her mother's womb, a baby's fate is predetermined. The baby does not know of it yet, but the mother has begun mourning over the loss of her own blood and flesh. The little soul now has a name, she is Savahn, it means Heaven, and that's where she will soon be for as long as her soul exists.

One of my best friends is 7 months pregnant, a mother-to-be, expecting the best in the world for her baby. Unfortunately, her hope and joy is short-lived, fleeting through like a glimpse of sunlight on a starkly gray winter day, for she knows upon giving birth the baby will die within a few days. What a courageous mother she is, knowing the daughter's fate and still determine to give the baby its full life. How can you fathom such pain? The kind of pain that is so abysmal to measure but yet so devastatingly significant.

Life is unfair.

Vivid memories brought back the painful moments of five years ago, the day when I learned of her mother's death. Pushing everything aside, I rushed to the hospital, just to be with her at that particular moment. Both of us, and so was her younger sister, sitting in the acrid hospital's waiting room. I was lost with words and numb with pain and distress. Nothing I could do to control the tears.

Life is unpredictable.

Five years later, she is mourning for the loss of her own blood and flesh, which is still alive in her womb. I don't know how to articulate such pain because it has never occurred to me. How do you cure the emotional pain? How do you pinpoint the exact location of to where it hurts? It is abysmal and bottomless. How do you explain the significance of things like this in one's life? Like..what is the "brighter" side of it all? If this is the dark tunnel, what is there waiting for her at the end of it?

I don't know the answers to all the questions. Perhaps she does not want the answers at all for they can't do justice to heal the open, yet invisible, wound in her heart. Perhaps all she needs right now is to have the shoulders for her to lean on and so we both just cry to no ends.

My only wish is to be there with her at this moment and to be her solace.

Life is ephemeral. Pain is perpetual.

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I don't like to receive bad news because bad news create distraught. But bad news do come around, once in awhile, just to stop me from my tracks, from whatever pace I was on...to remind me that life is precarious.

If I have the power to undo certain things, I would. If I have the power to protect and prevent certain things to happen, I would. Unfortunately, I am just a human being without the supernatural force to reverse bad things to happen.

Can't think of much right now...but will be back to write in details.

Today is a new day of a new project.

I guess it is time for us to begin the selection of the class of Two Thousand and Ten (or Twenty Ten). That mere sound makes me feel so old, so ancient, so outdated.

The good thing is, I can work from home without being physically present in the office. Less driving, save on gas, no make-up needed, no dress-up; just lounging around in my pj.

It is starkly cold in my office; I have the space heater on at the maximum setting but it doesn't seem to work. As much as I hate to bundle up in layers, because layers make me look fat, I forced myself to wear stockings and 2 undershirts with a heavy wool turtle-neck sweater on top. Yet, I am still cold and looking ridiculously fat. But it's okay, I'd rather look fat but feeling warm than trying to be sexy and be hospitalized for hypothermia or frostbites.

I am operating on a 5 hours of sleep today, not very pleasant, is it?

Đã viết một hồi bằng tiếng Anh nhưng vẫn cảm thấy trong lòng còn một chút gì đó cần phải viết ra ở đây. Còn 10 phút nữa là 11 giờ khuya, bụng đói meo, ở nhà không có gì ăn đành lôi một gói mì ăn liền Lẩu Thái Lan, châm nước nóng trong vòng 3 phút, bỏ thêm vài cọng hành và cải xà lách, thế là lo xong cái bụng. Nhanh như thế mới gọi là "Mì ăn liền" chứ. Chiều nay ngồi trên xe lửa trong lòng buồn nôn nôn, nhìn bầu trời tối đen, càng hướng về nhà thì trời càng đen như mực. Đến trạm New Haven đèn sáng được chút, nhìn thấy tuyết phủ đầy, dầy cộm, ngán quá. Về đến nhà định tắm rửa rồi đi ngủ để mai thức sớm đi làm vì xếp phân phát công tác trực quá sớm nhưng căn nhà rộng thênh thang, trống trải, nhưng thiếu vắng một người. Nhớ nhớ...*mushy*

Nhớ Mẹ nữa.

Con gái nhớ Mẹ là chuyện bình thường. Chiều nay ngồi trên xe ngáp ngắn ngáp dài, lấy điện thoại ra gọi Mẹ mà Mẹ không trả lời. Buồn thiu, ngã ghế ra ngủ một giấc, không biết là bao lâu, tự nhiên điện thoại reo, Mẹ gọi, nói là đang đi chơi với Ba. Hai ông bà lái xe hơn 1 tiếng đồng hồ lên nhà người quen ở chơi một đêm sáng mai mới về để kịp Ba đi làm. Thiệt là hai ông bà còn quá yêu nhau thắm thiết. Không biết mai mốt mình có yêu chồng thắm thiết như thế không?

..và hai mẹ con tán dóc vài phút...

Mẹ: "Chừng nào con dzề?"

Con: "dạ chắc 28 Tết, đang ngắm vé máy bay."

Mẹ: "xin về trước mấy ngày giúp mẹ làm bánh tét."

Con: "dạ, con đang xin bà xếp mấy ngày nghỉ, đang đợi câu trả lời."

Mẹ: "Ừ, dzề nhà chơi mấy ngày thì đừng đem việc làm theo."

Con: "uhmm..."

Mẹ: "Mày làm quá coi chừng bịnh. Ốm yếu bịnh hoài mà weekend nào cũng thấy mày đi làm xa."

Con: *hic* *hic*

Ngậm ngùi, muốn khóc, được Mẹ mắng yêu, con không nói được câu nào nữa. Thương Mẹ quá!

Ước gì bây giờ được ôm Mẹ, dúi cái đầu vào trong ngực Mẹ như ngày xưa, nhõng nhẻo, rồi Mẹ đưa tay vuốt vuốt tóc mình dặn dò. Thèm quá, nhớ quá! Ngày mai gọi travel agent ngắm nghía vé về Minnesota ăn Tết.

Không biết có ai nhớ cái cảm giác này như mình không? Ừ mà hồi nhỏ không được nuông chìu nhiều lắm đâu tuy là con gái một trong gia đình, suốt ngày bị đì vào bếp hay dọn dẹp nhà cửa. Đến khi học xong đại học mới biết nhõng nhẻo với Mẹ là gì và từ đó thì tận dụng cơ hội có được là làm tới. Cũng không biết sao mà sau khi học ĐH rồi thì hai Mẹ con mới có cái tình cảm thấm thiết như thế, chứ ngày xưa thì Mẹ suốt ngày hâm đánh đòn hoài. Sao cũng được, bây giờ có Mẹ thương như vầy là được rồi!

It took an hour for the shuttle service to bring me home from the train station, isn't it ridiculous? Finally, I am home, very thankful! New York City was windy and cold, but I had a good time nonetheless. Obviously, besides slaving for work, I had a good dose of tiramisu, some phở, wonton soup and noodles, and a damn good bowl of butternut squash soup (still craving for more!).

This tidbit is interesting, while spending my time in NYC, Luther was with me everywhere. Apparently, the hotel lobby loves his music and they blasted his voice all over the place. At a restaurant, they had Luther on intermittently along with the holiday jolly tunes. I loved it; I love Luther. Could never get enough him. Rest in peace!

It is good to be home; warm and cozy. However, I am alone at home tonight, he is with his class having a field trip to Wall Street tomorrow. Lucky them, they got the opportunity to meet the big shot at Wall Street, and having breakfast too.

Listen to this, I worked the whole weekend and still have to be at work at 7:00 am tomorrow morning. Believe it or not? well, believe it!

While I was away, the white stuff visited the place again; my car is fully covered in snow but I am too tired to shovel and sweep them off. It's okay, I will do a quick job tomorrow morning before going to work.

Dang it, I am hungry.

In New York City this weekend.

No laptop
No email
No journal updates.


Have a great weekend!

Motivations -- where are you?

Seriously, I need someone to come over and crack my brain up, because it seems like I can't function at all today. So many projects, no source of inspiration to get them done. That is so bad, isn't it? Am I the only one feeling low on energy today? Or is it sort of universal? My best flaunting skills for today is "yawning" and I am so damn good at doing it. One contributing factor to this ceasing of active energy is due to the insufficient amount of sleep lately. I am back to my nocturnal self again, just like the way I was during my years of graduate school. For the past few nights, I often got onto bed around 11 pm, sometimes earlier than that, but ended up being so wide awake and tossing around until I was restless. By the time sleep hit me, the clock ticked to 1 or 2 in the morning. That's only 5 to 6 hours of sleep each night. That vexes me a great deal, transcending into distress too.

Off track and veering away from the nocturnal, I am going to New York City again this weekend, actually, I am leaving tomorrow? Can't wait to get those yummy tiramisu into my mouth. Drooling for its softness, indeed. The Millennium isn't a bad place to rest for 2 nights. This weird thought just occurred -- something about nice and fancy hotels makes me feel so compelled to write something dirty. Hmm, "dirty" as in term of dirty streets full of trash in NYC in comparison to a clean and upscale hotel; it's not the other "dirty" you are thinking of. I got'cha, didn't I? Mind-teasing game is a powerful force, isn't it?

Let digress a little bit, anyone has any wonderful plan for Christmas season? I don't have any except for the regular routine of driving back and forth between the office and my humble home, with a treacherous mountain notch that scares me this snowy winter. Perhaps I have traveled way too often from September up until now and the thought of getting on a plane and or driving in crazy traffic isn't too appealing at this time of the year. But a short trip to Boston isn't too bad, especially when a guest from FL is coming up to this freezing place for her white Christmas.

Oh, I do have a plan for Tết, the Lunar New Year, which falls on the weekend of Jan. 29th. Guess where will I be that weekend? That's right, the lovely land of ten thousand lakes. My mom is very smart (she is my mom, what do I expect?) and she lured me with all kind of promises about the Tết celebration, mostly about food as she knows I have a tender heart when it comes to packing cholesterol into my veins. Perhaps I should have a diet plan, starving myself from now on until Jan. 29th and start binging on the food I have been craving for. Self-indulgence is difficult to moderate sometimes.

I am still feeling neurotic even after all these clueless rants. Yuck!

I have been wanting to do this for a long time but unable to make it happen before, not until today when I saw her adorable face again. Awhh, she has this bubbly face and the boyish haircut that frames her bubbliness. Her eyes are incredibly sweet, they will melt your heart in no time. Her lips are so inevitably kissable...She is surely going to be a heartbreaker!

I want to adopt her as my own kid...I wonder if my kids will be this cute!

Thanks to him for the connection and photos. (If I am taking too much of your bandwidth, please let me know!)



( More of her )

Để tiếp tục theo cái post trước, báo với các bác là cả hai người ngu đều chấp nhận cái ngu của mình, tối hôm kia mình được ngủ trong giường rồi, không cần ôm sofa một mình ngoài phòng khách nữa. :) Chắc tại vì hôm chủ nhật nấu các món đặc biệt nên làm cho phe kia lòng dạ không chịu đựng các mùi thơm nên đành hạ chiến làm lành. Xong rồi cả hai người ngu ngồi xuống ăn uống ngon lành, cả hai ngày ăn không ngon nên được dịp làm lành, ăn cả cọng rau héo queo cũng thấy đầy mùi vị đậm đà. Nghĩ đến thấy mắc cười, thì ra hai đứa ngu với nhau chuyện không đâu vào đâu, chỉ đợi người phe kia xin lỗi trước...chỉ thế thôi rồi tất cả cũng hạ hồi phân giải. Các bác nào có người yêu thì sẽ biết cái cảm giác oái lạ này, viết ra thì không đủ hết từ nhỏ từ lớn để diễn tả.

Ăn cá chiên sốt cà với cá kho tộ xong rồi hai người ngu tập làm chuyện người lớn...*ahem* có nghĩa là nói chuyện đàng hoàng như người lớn chứ không còn thái độ cư xử với nhau như trẻ con nữa. Còn sau khi làm chuyện người lớn rồi thì làm gì tiếp thì người ngu này chắc không thể tiết lộ được chi tiết, các bác cứ muốn nghĩ đến đâu thì cứ nghĩ nhé. Xem ai có đầu óc tối tâm hơn ai :)

Q: What do you call when two people, both are hardheaded, walking around the house without speaking to one another for 2 days?

A: Two stupid people.

Yes, we both are quite stupid, acting like little kids and refusing to call a truce to end our little squabble. The sad part is, I was the one who has been sleeping in the living room.

Actually, the futon was quite comfortable.

---

8:00 pm

Viết xong và vent xong cái phần tiếng Anh, trong lòng vẫn chưa trút hết nên bây giờ chơi sang qua tiếng Việt, xem viết xong có hả dạ hay không.

Hai ngày đi ra đi vô chẳng thèm nói chuyện với nhau. Chán chết nhưng dù sao vẫn còn giận, chả thèm nói chuyện xem ai thèm ai. Mà có giận như vầy mới biết là thương nhau đến cở nào tuy 2 cái đầu cứng cỏi không ai chịu thua ai. Một đứa ở phòng khách thì đứa kia chui vào bếp (that would be me), một đứa ở phòng đọc sách thì đứa kia lấy xe chạy vòng vòng (that would also be me!) Không biết mình có nhỏ mọn hay không? Thây kệ, it was not my fault, không phải lỗi của mình thì không chịu thua, ngang hàng xung chiến tiếp.

Trong cái giận cũng có cái hay, ví dụ như là hôm qua có thời gian một mình chui vào Barnes & Noble tìm sách đọc. Đi qua đi lại cái hàng Bargain mà chẳng thấy có cuốn sách nào bắt mắt. Lọ mọ tìm đến mấy cái magazine racks thì chả còn tờ báo People hay U.S. nào trên kệ hết. Thì ra các cô cậu trong tiệm cũng vào đây đọc miễn phí ba cái báo lá cải giẻ rách về tin tức thời sự các cô cậu tài tử ai bỏ ai như mình. Hot news of the week là Jessica và Nick bỏ nhau. Like I care, duh, I expected this a long time ago. Cái con quỉ cái này ngu như bò, ăn cá tuna hộp hiệu "chicken of the sea" mà nó hỏi chồng nó chứ cái đó là cá hay là gà. Ngu hơn bò! Mấy con quỉ này không có ăn học đàng hoàng, hát thì cũng chẳn ra hồn gì, chỉ có ngực căn tròn, mông chôm chổm trong mấy bộ quần áo thừa dây thiếu vải, lên TV làm dáng làm duyên mà tiền bạc vô túi nó ào ào. Vậy mà cũng được rate là woman of the year gì gì đó hai ba năm trước. Chỉ có ở nước Mỹ này mới có các con quỉ như nó được lên hàng ngưỡng mộ hơn bà Hilary Clinton. What a superficial society!

Ừ thì cũng là hôm qua, vẫn là trong tiệm sách, đi vòng vòng cả khối sách mà cũng không biết chọn cuốn nào hay thể loại sách nào để đọc. Đi ngang qua mấy cái rack của classic mới được reprint với giá dưới $10, đưa tay sờ mó, nhặt lên để xuống không biết bao cuốn, cuối cùng cầm lên một quyển dầy cộm chắc là cả 1000 trang tựa đề là The Brothers Karamazov của Fyodor Dostoevsky. Đọc sơ sơ cái synopsis thấy lạ vì bao nhiêu lời khen của các nhà văn sĩ hiện đại nên tìm một gốc chui vào nhâm nhi thử mấy giòng. Nói thật, đọc xong introduction, vô đề cả 5 hay 6 trang vậy mà chả hiểu, chả bị thu hút chút nào. Đúng là mình cũng ngu, thiếu chiều sâu với mấy cuốn classic như vầy, đặc biệt là mấy truyện được dịch sang qua tiếng Anh, đọc thấy nó sao sao ấy, không có gì glue mình vào được. Phải khâm phục những ai đã đọc qua cuốn này, vì thấy nó quá khó hiểu, nhiều thứ miêng mang mà mình không đủ khả năng để xâm nhập nó. Cuối cùng thì lọ mò đến gốc cook books, tìm được cuốn "soup bible" kiếm cái recipe cho butternut bisque. Cuốn sách này có cả recipe của phở nửa, nhưng không giống cái recipe của mình. It's so Americanized, chán chết các bác nào cho nó vào mà không làm nó authentic để rạng danh ẩm thực Việt Nam của tôi.

Hôm nay vẫn còn giận, nên chạy xe đi chợ mua lung tung các thứ linh tinh, về nhà làm một lược ba bốn món. Nào là cá chiên sốt cà, cá kho tộ, làm cải chua, nấu butternut bisque (mấy tuần nay thèm cái này, lạ!) Bây giờ đang ngồi đợi nồi nước muối nguội để ngâm cải. Chiều nay chạy đi chợ VN, cái chợ này bán hàng mắc quá trời, cái gì cũng lên giá so với cái tiệm ở Springfield. Đúng là "mụ ni bán mắc khắc ngặt mới đến mua" chứ thường thì chạy xuống tiệm kia cách 30 phút mà đồ rẻ lại tươi. Chết tiệt cái ông chủ quán tiệm này. Tuần sau ổng dọn cái chợ củ kỉ xiêu vẹo về nơi khác, rộng rãi và thoáng hơn, không biết ổng có tăng giá lên nữa không. Đúng là monopolize cả market thiệt!

Ôi, thế là một tuần nghỉ xả hơi đã hết thời hạn, ngày mai phải vác cuốc đi cày, ngán quá! Tối nay chắc sẽ vào giường mình ngủ cho thoải mái, ngày mai đủ sức đi cày.

-/-

Update lúc 10:30 sáng ngày hôm sau.

Hôm qua đúng là miệng đầy lửa, hold a fire in my mouth, dùng từ ngữ văn chương uncivilized quá. Bây giờ đọc lại thấy hơi ngại. :) Xin lỗi nếu đã offend ai đó nếu ai đó cho Jessica là thần tượng của mình.

Once in awhile, I resented my parents for not giving me a sister -- just ONE sister and it would be enough. I know, it's not inherently their fault for not being able to produce another set of XX chromosomes after my birth but still, on occasions when something struck my cords, I resent them for not trying hard enough. Actually, I take that back, they did try two more times but failed to genetically manipulate and cultivate the necessary production for doubling the X. Hence, the end results are not surprisingly atypical -- I have 2 younger brothers trailing after me. It wasn't entirely a catastrophic experience growing up with 5 boys but there is always something amiss in the totality of my childhood that eventually transpires into the occasional resentment towards my parents. It's like having an internal void.

I do admit of my jealousy, or rather an envy, towards other people who are fortunate to having sister(s) in their lives. Wouldn't it be nice just having the two of us, leaving our husbands and boyfriends or mates at home, and flying to a nice location, California perhaps, and just getting a crazy sibling bonding vacation? Or, in other scenario, just chit-chatting with her over the most mundane snippets of life just for the fact of having sibling bonding moments regardless of which direction the world orbits around us at that given time of the day.

I fancy...and fancy...and fancy these moments. Yes, it is me who is having this impossible dream of having a female sibling. It might be a foolish wish to hold on to...because my parents are in their 60s and unable to fulfill my wish, but it is just a simple wish I have had since the early age of 4 or 5.

I keep on fancying my entire life for something that would never exist.

*hic* *hic* *hic*

Does anyone here emphathize with me?

Yes, they are here, the pervasive invasion of the white stuff is outside of my window, covering my poor Toyota in the back parking lot. We are trapped inside the house for the rest of the day. Good things our 7 guests are transporting themselves to my place, just hope they have a safe trip.



I need to find my winter coping skills...

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!