13 September 2002 (Friday)

maman

I would like to reiterate that my mom is the coolest Mom on the planet. (That's a non-competitive superlative there. I'm sure there are a lot of people whose moms are the coolest on the planet.)

When I become a mother I want to be just like her.

I probably won't, though. I am an exact half-and-half mix of my parents. This means I am more ambitious than my mother, more adventurous, more fascinated with intellectual pursuits; also less empathic, less happy-go-lucky, more prone to moodiness and depression.

I am also a lot more American and a lot less Asian than either parent. It remains to be seen what the exact implications of this will be, and I've wondered countless times just how Asian I'm supposed to be. "Your only real claim to a culture is the one you inhabit," I suggested last night, as Mom and I nibbled on leftover slices of her birthday cake. "I grew up here; I learned the language and customs of this place. I learned a little about the language and customs of the place you came from, too, but that's second-hand. It's not really mine."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it's history," she said. "It's not the present. And anyway, if you're going to 'pass down' a culture, what is it really that you're passing down? Basically a snapshot. When I came here and met the people who lived in Chinatown, they seemed strange to me -- their way of talking was different, the way they celebrated holidays was different. But then I realized that they'd kept what they'd known of Taiwan when they left. The homeland kept evolving after they were gone." She shrugged. "But I still think it's important to have a sense of history. You know, to hear Grandma's story, my story, Dad's story. Just to know the bigger thing you're a part of."

posted by enjelani @ 02:38 PM PST [ link ]

11 September 2002 (Wednesday)

anniversary

I can't say it any better than jimbatcho said it, so just click on the link.

Abstract questions have been floating around in my head today, mostly morbid and tasteless given the occasion, I suppose. Is it possible to have a world with fairly distributed suffering? Is it possible to have a world without suffering at all, and would I want to live in such a world? While I'm at it, is there a good reason why we always favor life over death, to the point where we would impose that choice on others? Are there some lives that are, objectively speaking, not worth living? Is some dosage of brutality, injustice, tragic accident and just plain stupidity not only inevitable, but necessary? Is it possible to have a world without evil, and would I want to live in such a world? This evil, this dark side we all have to some degree, that desire to kill, to inflict pain, to control -- is it really so simple as something to vanquish, something that doesn't belong in our spirits, a disease of the soul? If so, why is it everywhere, in everyone? Could it be that it serves a purpose?

It's all very well for me to think these things from my cozy little corner. I ask these questions in a socioeconomic context: one of affluence and comfort, that has never known war or even danger, only vicarious horrors. In another life I was passionately religious, convinced that my God watched over me and protected me even as my home was burned down, my parents' throats slit, my children's bellies swelling with starvation as the drought turned impossibly long. In another life I got a call from my fiancé exactly one year ago this morning, telling me goodbye, that he was on the ninety-first floor and the exit stairwells were gone. In another life I didn't have the luxury of musing over whether evil has its place in things. In this life, though, I can only hold out my hands and say, "I'm sorry. I'll do what I can. I'll try to make it right. But maybe it can't be done. Maybe it's already right."

posted by enjelani @ 04:16 PM PST [ link ]

10 September 2002 (Tuesday)

note to self

First decide what you need to do. Then decide to enjoy it, whatever it is.

posted by enjelani @ 04:21 PM PST [ link ]

9 September 2002 (Monday)

the ex-girlfriend's engagement party

She wore a bright yellow sundress, her smile equally luminous; he was quieter, more demure in dress and in speech, but glowing nonetheless. Soren said later that he'd often tried to picture what the man would look like, and that other than a few inches of height, he matched the image exactly.

The word butterfly came to mind as I watched her weave a looping path around the huge room, from couch to buffet table to balcony, picking up babies, crouching down to chat with toddlers. There were children everywhere. "What have you been up to?" Soren asked one friend he hadn't seen in years. "Breeding, mostly," he replied, chuckling. In another friend's arms a five-week-old girl lay quietly with clenched fists, eyes as round as marbles. Soren touched his index finger to her hand and she curled her fingers around it, an automatic reaction. I thought of scale, orders of magnitude; fragility.

posted by enjelani @ 06:36 PM PST [ link ]