que pasa

I’ve been sitting on this material for a long time (since July) but never got around to tidying it up.  I also wasn’t sure how to present it.  Now that I’ve putzed around enough, finally did something about it and here you go.

Anyway, the background is that I really enjoy the TV show “24” and one night in July I actually dreamt up something rather “24”-ish starring my friend Yongfatt.  So I got onto gtalk the next day to chat with him and to try and get some continuation.  

To preserve the integrity of a truly original brainstorm session, what I’m going to do is cut and paste our dialog here.  It will however be very messy ala chat style but hey you guys have used all sorts of instant messaging apps so this will be cool.  And bear in mind that there is a certain time lag in IM, so you’ll see some responses to some comments a little later than expected. 

So I’ve tried to organize it a bit but here’s quick brief:
- What I say is in black.  Yongfatt’s speech is in red.  
- There are these times in the dialog i.e. 9:22AM and so on – these are the real time indicators of our chat.  Not the “24” ticking clock – that will be in blue.
- The dialog has been broken up in paras or 1 min real time.
- What you read below has been edited a little, but 95% of what you read below is the original text.  

--

9:22AM me: it starts of with all of us being at this fun fair at night... then suddenly somebody tells us we have to pass an important message to jack forrestor's parents aka Mr. and Mrs. Forrestor...

9:23 AM me: can't remember what the message is, but anyway, you and i go hunting for it.
somewhere along the line, we pick up this sweet little girl... think young version of (that girl from War of the Worlds... what's her name) young kid, the carry-in-arms-without-aching-too-much type.
9:23 AM me:so we go searching around the fun fair, checking out every alley, and closed doors we end up in this facility... very clinical looing
9:23 AM me: looking, i mean
and as we look into each of the windows of the rooms, we see people in various states of some kind of disease...

 

9:24 AM me: there's one room with people (who look healthy) sitting around... they're either doing research, or test patients...
then there's another room with people lying in beds and nurses and docs attending to them
then there's another room which is empty, but there's another door in it.

 

9:25 AM me: (of course, all this while we have no idea what mr. and mrs. forrestor look like)

since we're still recce-ing the place, we decide to check out this 3rd room, so we go in...

9:26 AM Yongfatt: so we are looking for someone whom we dun know looks like what?
me: this man with boils all over, pus-sy and red-watery-eyed looking guy walks out
Yongfatt: call chloe to send it to us on pda lah
me: he sees us, and shakes his finger at us, kinda telling us to go out then we realize this is some infectious disease facility..

 

9:27 AM me: and then we have to tell the little girl not to scream... because you know how dakota fanning can scream the shit out of people
then we realize that we may be infected if we stay too long, so we quickly leave the room
we go back to the first room with the seemingly healthy people and then i see 2 acquaintances from secondary school

 

9:28 AM me:  anyway, we wait till they come out (for recess break i think) and then we try to get their attention.
Yongfatt: you are mixing all your friends together in this episode
me: but then the doctor/supervisor is coming out too, so can only talk briefly...
Yongfatt: you continue telling the story. got make a call i really dun want to first me: ok

 

9:29 AM me:  we ask about mr and mrs forestor...

9:30 AM me: and then they say they have some vague idea but not really sure... then the doctor comes, he sees us and then you tell the little girl and I to hide... but you don't... then i woke up

 

9:31 AM me: dammit i don't know what happens next i want to go back to sleep but then i have to go to work but i think that's where you start doing jack bauer stuff like whipping out a gun, telling people to stand down.

 

9:32 AM me: maybe you take the doc hostage... torture him and stuff
i was so sure something exciting/jack-bauer-ish was going to happen...
then i had to wake up so, that's it... sorry for the incomplete story...
you can go dream the ending tonight then you can tell me what happens

 

9:35 AM me: if it helps, here are some details to help create the setting:  
1. all the patients and nurses in the facility are wearing blue scrubs... 
2. the fun fair is at night.

9:36 AM me: 3. the fair is really huge.. like the Singapore Exhibition Halls...
but held on the streets, the fun fair stands line the buildings, the roads are only about 2 lanes wide
the building are more like shop houses... that's why there's little alleys...
mostly caucasian people

 

9:39 AM Yongfatt: so it's not china.
russians?
or americans?

 

9:40 AM Yongfatt: and why am I carrying the little girl with me on such a mission.
why did you wake up?!!?!?!?!?!?

 

9:41 AM me: i think it's set in america... bioterrorism would be my call
not sure where the bad guys are from
see, the thing is... the message we have to pass is irrelevant... in trying to pass the message, we discover this huge thing going on

 

9:42 AM me: maybe you can drop the girl later on... but for time being you have to handle her... it's like those small distractions in 24 too right?

 

9:43 AM me: as for chloe... she's not in the picture yet... and even if she were, she could only tell us the headcount/number of bodies in the building and where... but can't tell us what they're doing... plus this is a hidden facility so she doesn't have access to security cameras inside turns out the doc is son of the forrestor

 

10:01 AM Yongfatt: girl is their grand daughter.
doc is captured bec he discovered some super duper virus... spread by brain waves...
the guy thinks it and the person he thinks of kena (translation of ‘kena’: gets hit and dies)

 

10:02 AM Yongfatt: the message we have to pass is that their daughter in law is the mastermind
me: wah lau.. that's a fierce man.. (translation of ‘wah lau’: oh man!)
i mean, that's fierce disease man
Yongfatt: but she pretend to be victim and captured like them
so the message is that the mr and mrs forrester have to be careful and we will get them out

 

10:03 AM Yongfatt:  but unknown to them, this dakota fanning girl is a clone... not the real granddaughter
this clone has the brainwave thing

 

10:04 AM Yongfatt:  but she doesn't know how to use it yet...
real daughter already dead from testing

10:06 AM Yongfatt: finally gets pda to work and chloe emails all these developments... about the daughter being a clone and the brainwave virus
we console the doc...

10:07 AM Yongfatt: tell him to get back to work and he will go get his parents then they will meet again for extraction before the airforce napalms the whole fun fair
06:00:15 (ala the ticking clock in “24”)

10:12 AM Yongfatt: finally locates forrestors...
you take them both to north airfield using the pda
me: why is the doc is immune to the virus..? 
i'm sure people think about killing him...

Yongfatt: using the gps thingy that Mr. Trees passed you before he returned to singapore
doc is immune bec he is creator

10:13 AM Yongfatt: he has the master virus
me: or maybe he already has the vaccine
Yongfatt: so the plan is to bring him back to CTU... and extract the virus from his blood
problem is how to do it without him finding out

 

10:14 AM Yongfatt: but as we deal with doc we realize he is the good guy
he is developing the virus so that he can develop vaccine to prevent people from misusing
his wife is the baddy
she is plotting to use virus for bad
she also doc and she is coldblooded

10:15 AM Yongfatt: like how she killed her daughter accidentally
but no remorse
just a cold "oh well"
and she clones another one
diabolical

10:16 AM Yongfatt: 06:23:18 (ala ticking clock)
We meet at airfield and contacts extraction team
engine problem and they are still 17min out we are too open

 

10:17 AM Yongfatt: at this time only forrestor and doc
me: wah lau... how can there be an engine problem? what kind of lousy helicopter is this? which country made it? Yongfatt: doc wants to take dakota but she's only a clone...
a evil clone by the way.
you finally manage to persuade him to leave her behind and come with you to airfield

 

10:18 AM Yongfatt: maybe india i dunno but got problem lah

 

10:19 AM Yongfatt: so we go into building 4 to hide and discover doc is actually good guy... so no need to forcibly extract virus from him which is good bec he would have brainwave us dead

 

10:20 AM Yongfatt: so after talking and talking, we realise he is good
but don't tell him CTU plan to extract virus yet.
because president wayne palmer says so.
me: i hope we escape soon because the moment all the patients turn on us, we'll die immediately...
Yongfatt: then gun shot and doc is hit
me: who shot the gun?
Yongfatt: the pus and bloody patient

 

10:21 AM Yongfatt: he somehow followed you and doc to airfield bec you wearing shiny diamond earrings and he likes shiny things

 

10:22 AM me: what are you doing? fixing the engine?
Yongfatt: i shoot back and pus explodes coating us all with greenish yellow gook
we give each other the yieow look but starts tending to doc

 

10:23 AM me: but i don’t know first aid..
Yongfatt: problem is shoots gave away our position searchlights come on swinging all over
me: yeah, then all the patients some how come charging out..  ready to send brainwaves
Yongfatt: control tower spots our chopper then it's like all hell breaks loose.

 

10:24 AM me: then chloe arranges for major electromagnetic wave over the area to jam all waves.. including brainwaves... so we are saved from virus
Yongfatt: i go outside to recce and sees hell breaking loose
me: you better start shooting them
Yongfatt: then I see a Ford Expedition
missing driver's side wing mirror

 

10:25 AM Yongfatt: i get in and hotwire it...
vroom
chopper under attack...
i vroom into warehouse
me: then we quickly zao in the ford expedition (translation of zao: escape)
Yongfatt: trust me... by this time you know first aid

 

10:26 AM Yongfatt: but doc is not doing well
put him in back of expedition and we all load in.
bullets flying and we lose windows and windscreen glass all over

me: 06:59:59.. to be continued
Yongfatt:  that's right.. stay tuned for scene from our next episode

10:27 AM Yongfatt: ads selling 2008 Ford Expedition comes on
then something from Wal Mart
and the irritating Empire Carpet
AT&T long distance

10:28 AM Yongfatt: Credits roll at top left corner of screen, we see Ford driving out main gate of fair

--

Of course there was talk about doing this again but we somehow never got the inspiration again.  We also talked about sending in the script to the producers of “24” – we think we have at least 1 hour of action in here.  But we didn’t do that either.  But if you ever see any episodes of “24” that bear any resemblance to what has been described here, you know it came from us.  

(And in case you were wondering… no, Mr. Trees did not give me any GPS thingy before he left for Singapore. )

A Chinese friend who is now based in Shanghai asked me to think up an English name for his baby girl a couple of months ago. Now, I’ve heard my fair share of funny sounding English names that young Chinese people like to give themselves in a bid to sound cool or meaningful. (What they don’t’ realize is that meanings in Chinese names don’t always carry over well to English names.) So I tried to find something as phonetically close to her Chinese name as possible.

Today, I saw that my friend had changed his nickname on MSN to his daughter’s - Cynthia. He had taken my suggestion seriously afterall, even though we only knew each other for a couple of months.

It feels nice to have named a baby. I doubt I’ll ever get to meet the little girl, but for some strange reason, I feel a little attached to her knowing that she carries the name I picked. I hope she turns out to be as pretty and nice as my cousin.

So I’m home for Christmas and I convinced my small group to have a white elephant gift exchange at our Christmas lunch party. The idea came from my bro - kudos to him. Basically everyone has to bring a gift, but the gift has to be something that you already own but do not want. Of course you can’t bring used stuff or totally worthless things, and it has to look presentable. You have to wrap it up so that nobody knows what it is.

All the gifts are put in a pile and you draw cards to decide the order of gift-picking. So the first dude gets to choose his present. You can shake it, roll it, do whatever to it, so long as it does not damage the thing inside. Then when he has picked his gift, he has to open it for everybody to see. The second dude has the choice of snatching the first guy’s gift, or picking a new gift from the pile. The third guy gets to snatch the gifts the preceding people have picked or pick a new one. And so on. If your gift gets snatched by someone else, then you have to pick a new gift from the stack, can’t snatch somebody else’s, otherwise it would be total chaos (can you imagine?)

So anyway, my bro’s small group did it and it sounded really fun, so there really shouldn’t be anything to worry about when my small group does it, right? Wrong. Because my small group has crazy and mean people… they bring really white elephants to the party.

Like Teachers’ Day presents (i.e. cute and colorful but absolutely useless table ornaments i.e. clutter) little kids save up their recess money to buy hoping really hard that their favourite teacher will love it. Like some random bamboo pen caddy. Like an ashtray that coughs “No smoking, ahem ahem, no smoking, ahem ahem” when you lift up the matchbox from it. Like a clay mini-flower pot display item. Like a pot with a fake apple tree in it that looks so fake that it looks like a kum-kuat (looks like orange lime fruits) plant. Whatever, it was really bad, some of the gifts that were exchanged. Should have expected this from my people.

There were some good gifts though, like an expresso mug set. I wanted to snatch that one, but the person had to leave right before it was my turn. Damn! So I snatched a harmless yellow photo frame, which was snatched immediately from me. Damn again. I ended up with this flower pot thingy. Sigh.

Pretty sure some of these white elephants are going to come back next year. Oh man oh man oh man. But damn it’ll be fun!

You have probably heard about it - Singapore hung 25-year-old Australian Vietnamese Van Ngyuen for smuggling 14 ounces of heroin into the country this morning. According to reports, Australians are torn on the issue as to whether they support the sentence or not. Some call the Singapore government “barbaric”, “inhumane” and “merciless” for sentencing such a young and apparently repentant man to death. Some say, “Look, if you are going to kill the guy, at least do it humanely.”

For the record, Singaporeans are also torn on the matter. My friend forwarded an email to me to sign an online petition opposing the death penalty. My friend rarely speaks out for political matters and to see her forward the email with a personal note told me that this matter had really gotten to her. She is not the only one. But I did not sign the online petition because I am with the government on this, as are other Singaporeans. This does not mean that I support capital punishment or agree that the death penalty is the appropriate punishment. It means that I support the government for holding their ground.

Some say the weak and cowardly are the ones who are cannot change. That is irrelevant as far as this matter is concerned. A 25-year-old is fully capable of understanding the consequences of his actions. Right before you enter Singapore’s borders, there are signs and announcements to remind you drug traffickers caught will be sentenced to death in Singapore. It does not matter what the law is back home, you are entering another country so you are subject to their law. In Rome, do as the Romans do. Blatant ignorance of clear warnings against drug trafficking is to seek death upon yourself.

If the government had pardoned the man, what message does that send to the families of previous offenders and people who try to smuggle drugs into the country in the future? The law has rarely been lenient and kind. Justice is blind. And it can be harsh. Defy it at your own expense. As for those who think death by hanging is inhumane, that is entirely irrelevant. Why should the death sentence be sugar-coated? If someone has the guts to bring in things that destroy the users’ lives in exchange for some quick cash, why should his/her life be ended with any kindness as punishment for such thoughtless deeds?

For those who think that the offenders have some very “valid” reasons for doing the deed (say someone is threatening to kill someone you love), I can only say that carrying out the crime and losing your life as a result helps absolutely no one. It does not help you because you are dead; it does not solve the first problem in any way because you die never knowing if the matter was resolved at all; and goodness knows, the problem may have been exacerbated by your death (i.e. maybe your loved one was murdered by the kidnapper). It is not worth it. It is never worth it.

Am I a heartless bitch? I know that Papa would readily give people (including me) a second chance anytime no matter what their offense was and so I should too, but I also know that Papa would want me to submit to the authorities put above me. So I support my government on this matter.

The hotel has engaged this piano player to perform in the main hall from 6 to 7pm everyday. It is nice to be greeted by his music when I come down from my room - just in case you are wondering, I moved out of the luxury suite on 1 August - and go out for dinner.

One day we stopped to listen to him because my boss requested a particular song. As I watched the piano player’s fingers flow over the keys while he observed the hotel guests around him, I wondered if I might ever have reached that level of familiarity with music and the piano had I finished my lessons.

My mother signed me up for piano classes when I was in elementary school. She wanted me to have the privilege of having what she lacked as a child. But I came to realize that I did not enjoy playing the piano and lessons became such a chore. I would rather do theory homework instead of practicing, despite the fact that theory could be quite tiresome at times. At classes I would ask the teacher to go through theory work and feign interest in the details so that we would spend less time on practical. In sixth grade, I finally got my mom to stop the classes - it probably broke her heart. Today, our piano still sits in the house but only visitors play it. I enjoy listening to the music much more than playing the instrument itself. I think my mom still wishes that I had continued because piano music is really quite nice.

Mom used to be a reporter for the newspaper and so was in charge of my proficiency in languages. Dad was in charge of Math and Science. I am not one of those girls who are better at languages than at math and science. Which is not to say that my math and sciences were great or I thought them to be easy, but they seemed logical and if you worked at it, you would get it some how. Languages, on the other hand, seem to be more of an art and I did not have the gift. I mean, I could get by, but the good grades just did not seem to come even after hard work. Particularly frustrating when I was constantly surrounded by writing talents. Language proficiency is definitely not a genetic trait. Anyway, there was pressure for me to improve my languages and Mom and I both had a hard time. She wanted me to write well because it would really help in the future.

Mom also wanted me to have a pretty smile - another thing that would come in handy. I had dracula fangs so I wore braces for almost three years. Most people only wear them for two, this just goes to show how bad my teeth were. The braces hurt at times, especially after the orthodontist tightened the screws. What a price women pay for vanity. Mom joked that I should become an orthodontist. Good money, huge market, job stability, and I would not have to look down people’s mouths for as long as a dentist would. Being a doctor of any kind is of those occupations every parent hopes their children would take up, so I imagine that my mom's voice might have carried a tinge of hope there.

So I chose my path of study, spent three and a half years at my first job and then left it. No where near being a doctor or a stable low risk job. Not the stay-at-home sort either. Mom found it difficult to accept my decision and she probably worries a lot about me being away so much. Pig virus and all that. I will always be a little girl in her eyes and she is learning to let me be. I may not be turning out the way she hoped but I do not think I am doing that poorly either. I think she knows now that it does not matter so much how close I come to being the daughter she wanted me to be. I think all my mom wants me to be is to be happy.

My house has a lawn. When we first got the house, we had the lawn landscaped and there were these nice flowers and plants. The sun was too much for the flowers to take so those died. What we have left are the hardier shrubs and mini-pines/firs.

Then my dad decided to carve up part of the lawn to create a pond for our fish to swim in. What used to be a majestic waterfall has now evolved into a tame creek where water flows through the thick roots of the plants firmly embedded in the rock structure. While they may be something to look at, I think the patch of earth at the side of my house is where most satisfaction is derived.

We have had a series of maids helping us over the years we have lived here. They all seem to like to plant things in the side patch. It is wonderful how Alvera, Elizabeth, Vilma and Marlene have cultivated the little garden at the side and I can see the fruits of their labor today.

Thanks to Elizabeth, we have orchids growing off the palms. Two of them are in bloom now. She dried and cut up coconut husks, tied them to the palm stems such that it holds pieces of charcoal together and keeps the plant propped up. Alvera planted the jackfruit tree that now yields such sweet and juicy fruit every year. Vilma grew lime plants for home-made lime juice, and kept the side patch nourished so that the jackfruit tree would continue to do well, and planted an array of useful plants that could be used in cooking. Marlene has just joined us and I think she is now exploring things she can plant, and ways to keep our plants healthy and fruitful.

The patch is still nothing much to look at, and one might even say it is messy. No grass, just plants growing out of it. But each plant is doing well, and has probably produced something that has ended up on our dinner table. I never thought much of it but I guess under the right hands it is amazing what green fingers can do.

I do not have green fingers. I can never figure how our maids manage to keep the plants alive; much less have them bear flowers or fruit. Much to my embarrassment, many plants have died in my care - I have yet to succeed keeping a cactus alive. My last plant, Henry, not a cactus, died of dehydration because I left it in the office over a long weekend and no one was there to water it. Henry was doing really well – I even had him repotted – and one silly slip like that just killed him altogether.

That was about a year ago. Maybe I will find the courage to try keeping a plant again another day. In the meantime, I would rather just brag about the excellent work that Alvera, Elizabeth, Vilma and Marlene have done.

The book ("Tuesdays with Morrie") is great: everybody should read it. I wept like Niagara Falls. But this post is not about the book. It is about my Morrie, and my experience with her today (which happens to be a Tuesday).

Morrie is my friend's mom. I mentioned her before in Momma. I went to visit her today because I got her something on my previous trip. I wanted to pass it to her before I flew again on this week. I had heard that she was much better now, but I wanted to see for myself.

Just as I walked into her house, fat droplets of rain started to come down - lucky me that I had found shelter. Morrie is much better. She has been in good spirits, and the illness seems to have taken a beating.

Morrie is a content mother of two grown kids, has deep confidence that they love her even if they do not always express it, and she truly believes in Papa's plans and love for her no matter what happens. And believe me, she has had her fair share of bad things.

I wonder why I am drawn to Morrie because I am not close to her. Maybe it is because she is a content person, and I am not. Or her desire to keep close to Papa's heart, which I still seem to lack. Maybe she is seems like older counsel who does not try to give advice on everything or be a know-it-all. Maybe because she is so appreciative of company. Or because I like listening to her stories. Or because I like sensing the respect and hopes she has for her children (this is not to say that I get none at home, merely that it is different). Maybe it is because medication aside, she is so aware of how Papa picked her up from the depths of her condition and holds her afloat today.

I was not quite sure how long I would be at Morrie's. Neither was I sure what we would talk about. But I did want to know how she was getting along, and it felt right making time to see her. Her home had this strange sense of peace and comfort. We talked about her work and mine and about the differences between the values and perspectives of her generation and mine, among other things.

I felt like Papa wanted me to tell her about some of my struggles about work but I held back because she would not understand. The rain kept on. Finally I relented and I said some stuff about work. She did not have the answers but with quiet confidence, she encouraged me to look to Papa for what is best for me. As clichéd as the words themselves sounded, I felt that she was speaking from true experience and she was not being patronizing. The rain stopped soon after and it was time to go. 

Maybe that is why I went to Morrie's. To be brought to a listening posture so that I would be receptive when reminded that Papa loves me and wants me to seek his counsel and his heart.

You know how credit card companies give loyalty points for purchases made using their cards, and how airlines give frequent flyer miles for using their airline? Then they just conveniently expire without reminders? While most of us may not care, or some of us feel wronged and helpless, how many of you actually call them up to fight for your points back? My dad does.

My dad discovered today that he somehow lost 6,000 points on one of his credit cards the last month. He got out all his old statements and found that there was no reminder leading up to the deduction. So despite the fact that we are going to have dinner, he calls up the credit card hotline and wants to settle the matter. My dad gets all "righteously" angry when it comes to making complaints. Man, I do not want to be on the other end of the line, nor do I want to be the manager to which he complains to in the restaurant. You feel like pondscum after that. Anyways, I suspect that he did it before dinner because the food might "sedate" him and then he would not be able to gather up all his fury. Heh heh.

So he tells me that it is time to redeem points and I should pick out what we should get. Ok - a cordless phone to replace our current 10-minute-battery-life one, and an $80 voucher at a Chinese restaurant. But we are short of 190 points, to which he grins and replies, "That will not be a problem when I get the 6,000 points back." I think he is too smug.

I do not know if my dad is lucky, or the bank system is just screwed up. The helpline is automated (and we all hate this automated press-this-number-for-this-and-this-number-for-that nonsense) and it asks my dad to enter in the card number. Lo and behold, he tries three times to be told each time by that you-can't-piss-me-off-because-i'm-a-robot voice that "That is an invalid account number." Oh no, this waiting time is stirring up more angst. Whoopie - another complaint... more productive use of his "righteous" anger. Finally, someone takes my dad's call. I think the girl feels embarrased that the system does not acknowledge his account and she says she will lodge a report. 1-0, dad.

Round two. Dad makes his case for his lost credit card points. Between "I have all my statements (since January) in front of me and there are no reminders - which is silly, isn't it?" and "I am willing to come down with all my statements and show you there were no reminders" and "I have been saving up the points for a redemption. I just need you to make the extension for 3 months, not too long..." he somehow convinces the girl to bring his case (to extend his points) up to her manager. And to go for the jugular, he says, "I'm not taking no for an answer. If I have to talk to your manager, you better let me know who I'm going to talk to now." So we will see what happens. My bets are on dad. And if there is a round three and more, i say "dad" again and again and again.

Now, before you start getting on my dad's case about being unreasonable, petty or silly - he is not. And no, the girl on the phone was not upset, traumatized, did not feel bulldozed or anything of that sort. My dad is really a great guy, just that he has his quirks (as do we). This is one of them. We laugh about it at home when he is not around. You wonder where I got my stubborn-ness, argumentative-ness, and tendency to complain from? Look no further. Heck, I even look like my dad. But for all the frustration that I experience when we fight or argue, I know he is always on my side, even if it does not look it.

I am my daddy's girl. Bully me and die, suckers!

Met up with my friend's mom today. Just found out today that she has not been well for a while now. Well, I guess I kinda knew, but I thought things were going alright.

We had a nice chat. Well, I am not quite sure if we were really chatting, or was it more a case of her speaking at length, then I would say a little, then she would share more, and I would add my two cents and so on. We talked about various subjects, but it broke my heart when she spoke about her relationship with her son (who is my friend). Because I recognized myself in her description of my friend, and as she spoke about her feelings, I knew that is how my mom feels about me. I was absolutely unprepared for this.

I wrote in Like an Onion that it hurts too much to be known and when someone calls us for what we really are. This was it today. She was thinking of her son as she spoke - you could tell, she had that look in her eyes - but I could imagine my mom saying the same about me ... to somebody else. Then I realized how sad it was that our mothers could get along so much better with other people's children than with their own.

I tried to explain to Aunty that this is the way things are. And that when we want to talk, we will initiate. She did not say the exact words but I think she knew that sometimes we just want our mothers to listen, not really a dialogue. Maybe it is because we know that our moms will always be rooting for us, and that even listening to our monologue makes them happy. Because it brings them one step closer to our heartbeat.

They say it is hard to be a mother. They were so right.

For those of you who are close to your moms, you have such a precious gift. It is hard, being on this side of the fence. The ironic thing is that we would rather tell everyone else how much we love our mothers than tell them face to face. Why is it so hard? Is this an Asian phenomenon, or it just my friend and I?

Here are the lyrics of the chorus from "I Love You" by Sarah Mclachlan. It is a love song, not entirely inappropriate for this condition I speak of.

And I forgot
To tell you
I love you
And the night’s
Too long
And cold here
Without you
I grieve in my condition
For I cannot find the strength to say I need you so

Davy and I met up for dinner the other day. It has been almost half a year since we last caught up with each other. When he came by to pick me up, I tapped on the seemingly plastic spoiler on his car, got in, and said, "Yeeks, it's so cheap!" He was on the phone, so he could not retort. But he smiled, punched me in the shoulder and we drove off. Needless to say, we had a great time catching up and all, and I think I was wrong about that spoiler.

It was only the next day when it occured to me that there might be some awkwardness from not having seen each other for so long. Regardless of the fact that we are good friends, there is always that short silent moment when you first meet, and how you deal with it determines how long it will take for things to return back to the way they were when you last met.

But it is nice, the comfortable feeling of being in the presence of an old and/or good friend. The exchanging of stories and advice, catching up, laughter, understanding. Sometimes you have the knowing looks (oh-my-word-it's-such-an-awful-shirt), coded language, similar thoughts too. Unless you are really tight with your folks, I think you feel more at home with your friends than with your family.

I think of the times I return to the States - I usually stay with my friends and/or their family. !, mug-mug, lut-lut, Mr. Microsoft - just to name a few. It is so hard to meet up with them - especially with half the world between us - so I look forward to every opportunity available. Especially since I am so bad with email, sometimes I wonder if things would have changed since we last met. But when we see each other, the years melt away and it feels like we are back in college. The listserve emails, the craziness, the snow, the crazy April heat, the walks to chinatown, Thanksgiving and Christmas home visits... Boy oh boy!

I have often contemplated returning to do an MBA, and im2loko has been encouraging me to go for it. But I have come to realize that the real reason why I want to go back is because I miss my college days. I miss my friends, the Bookstore, Locust Walk, the professors and their passion for their research. I know that graduate school will be different from college, and college days will never come by again, so I leave my MBA plans alone for a while.

Afterall, the next time I go back, I'm sure my friends will want to know that Phil has finally completed Mark study... and well, erm, we are not there yet. Oops. We are getting there though... chapter 12, baby!