The thoughts in this blog (or series of blogs) were concieved over the course of the 2-week holiday and I had to do some rethinking to place them into a properly constructed structure. However, this is still part one of my blogs concerning the subjects discussed in this entry. Enjoy!
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Men say:
"We do not cry. Shedding a tear now and then is reasonable, but bawling and sobbing is just ..pathetic. Let the women cry; yes, stay at home while we invade another country. We are men, therefore we are tough."
Please, don't jump to conclusions. It is not the way I see it. I believe many, if not all men cry - and men being boys who had reached 'adulthood'. I could imagine men bawling during the first few hours of D-Day, or men sobbing over the loss of their loved ones. However, I honestly think a number of men do hold the stereotypical image above as what 'seperates the men from the boys'.
I was taught years ago to always check the reliability of any given resource, be it the latest gossip, a newspaper article, even a 99.9% accurate documentary. Two years ago, Mel Gibson's "The Patriot" movie was shown to me (and my classmates) and we were then tasked to make an essay concluding whether or not the given resource was reliable enought to research about the American Revolution. I got a 5 out fo 7.
A friend of mine had asked me about countries having civil wars, brothers killing each other, neverending wars, and the absence of peace that eternally haunts the darkest of human hearts. I did not understand how that person may have felt, and even though I had tried to help, it was as futile as not speaking to that person at all. We were not seeing each other eye-to-eye and were both stuck in each other's worlds.
Well, that was the way I saw it.
I haven't seen my share of blood and violence, but I do have pictures of rage, anger, paranoia, and depression stuck in my mind; pictures that had made the world what it is now today. I play video games so violent that pictures of victims of war are now no different than that of beautifully-pixelized rays of light shown off a glass surface of a television. I've gotten so used to seeing newspaper headlines about dozens getting killed everyday in countries I do not live in that I don't even bother wondering why and how. That's my world, and somehow I just live through it each and every day.
On Tuesday, during Chapel, we watched a sermon about God creating the universe to show us how 'undescribable' he is in our eyes. The man who talked also showed amazing images of stars and nebulas that were billions and billions of light years away from Earth. He snapped all the time repeating: "A star is born *snap*, a star is born *snap*, every second a star is born." It was supposed to be touching, if not amazing. However, I snickered and repeated with a different, but true, version: "A child dies *snap*, a child dies *snap*, every second a child dies."
They say: "Life is priceless."
No. That's what they said.
Now it's worthless.
Referring to my previous blog entry, a lot of events happened that made me realize only a small segment of what my friend had tried so hard to explain to me. A friend of mine had died, on Valentine's day. My father's friend had died, early one morning. And had I known that my grandfather would die a few hours after we have left his house, I would have opened up my lazy eyelids and hugged and stayed with him until he dies. One reason why I get used to all the violence and the destruction is that it's happening so far away from home. My friend talked about what happened here. And still, it's just too far away from where I am to make any significant change in my life, to make me look back and say, "Pardon me?"
My father gave me a file in the form of a PowerPoint presentation a colleague had given him. It showed forensic photographs taken from various crime scenes and mortuaries across Indonesia. Needless to say, most of the bodies shown - or at least, body parts - belonged to dead people. There were pictures of victims who died due to stabbing wounds, suicide, drugs, road accidents. There were pictures of broken bones, blood, and splattered brain goo. They were downright horrifying.
At first I thought: "I've seen worse. Try me, dad." I was wrong. Dead wrong.
All I could think about after I ended the presentation was how people might even have the heart to take the lives of other people in such brutal fashions. I showed it the next day to a friend of mine, and he also had familiar thoughts on it. It was horrifying. If you wish to see it, I'd be 'glad' to show it to you; but think twice.. or probably three times. It's scarier than any horror/thriller movie you've ever seen. Why? Because it happened. That 'chunk of meat' once had a human soul in it. And now it's what? Mutilated, burned, skinned, disembowled... I know people abort their babies every single day, but..
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This blog isn't complete yet. And it'll go unfinished, but rather than letting it go unpublished. I'll end 'part one' here. :D
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Yet Another Drabbling of a Bored Blogger
*SIGH* Yea, hope you enjoy the story I made up when I was bored. None of it is true, but it's not even finished yet since I still have to edit most of its previous draft. Anyway, enjoy!
A wise old man who lived not long ago once said to me, “When I was just your age, the world was as free as a bird soaring endlessly through the skies. Wild horses galloped wildly through the open wilderness. Trees dominated my land and the fish swam deep in clean waters.”
The old man laid his back on his rocking chair, creaking, and sighed longingly. He looked at me straight in the eye and said, “The world was once a beautiful place, where limits were non-existent and the air as clean as its pure water as it reflected the shining sun on a hot afternoon,” He paused for a moment once more, as if he felt his memories calling him from a distance, of a time long ago, before he finally said, “The world was never meant for polluting and abusing, but for us to take care of and enjoy. We were given this gift,” He gestured and pointed to his backyard, “This world long ago…” He stopped when he saw the look on my face. He knew well that I didn’t agree with what he was about to say.
The old man looked at me again in the eye until I couldn’t match his gaze. I stared at the ground in silence. He gave me a sad smile when I had the nerve to look back at him again.
“The world was made by a Creator, a great, mighty and loving Being who created the heavens and formed the earth, weaving our lives like ornate robes of many colours. He gave His Son as a sacrifice for worthless humans to save them from an everlasting regret and mourning in Hell, away from His presence.” He cocked his eyebrows when I opened my mouth to cry out in protest.
“Yes, even humans are worthless. Try comparing yourself to the Universe, and you can see how insignificant you really are. However, His love for you, and for me, makes us special beyond all means. He created us to be unique because we would form a relationship with Him, so that we may bring glory to His name.” He shook his head at humans’ folly and nodded towards me, “I have made my decision long ago, and have not regret it since. My master’s burden is light, his hand guiding me wherever I may go…” His words were lost by the strong winds approaching from the north, but his meaning was clear.
He suddenly turned to me and asked me urgently, “It is your turn to choose your path. What will it be?”
That was the last time I ever heard that question. The old man passed away unexpectedly the next week after our conversation, creating a gigantic tidal wave of sadness within our community. My family and I attended his recent funeral in reverence. It was a difficult time for all of us. We mourned over the dead man and when I viewed his face before they sealed the casket, I was overwhelmed with tears. I was surprised that his face revealed a smile he used to give me when I visited him. His forehead gave way to mysterious wrinkles that I had seen so many times before.
I may have had my share of arguments with him, which had often filled my lazy afternoons with excitement, and what he called, ‘a youthful passion’, but he was my Grandfather. The only adult in this entire world who would be willing to listen, understand, and guide me through life. Why did he leave me? Didn’t he know that he just carried away the only thing that matters in my life to his so-called ‘heaven’? Sobs heaved out of me as I watched them seal the casket and I began to sink into the ground, surrounded by blurred hands trying to keep me standing, trying to comfort me. Why? Why him of all the people in the world? Questions like these burst out in my mind until I was no longer able to think clearly, succumbing to an unshakable grief.
A wise old man who lived not long ago once said to me, “When I was just your age, the world was as free as a bird soaring endlessly through the skies. Wild horses galloped wildly through the open wilderness. Trees dominated my land and the fish swam deep in clean waters.”
The old man laid his back on his rocking chair, creaking, and sighed longingly. He looked at me straight in the eye and said, “The world was once a beautiful place, where limits were non-existent and the air as clean as its pure water as it reflected the shining sun on a hot afternoon,” He paused for a moment once more, as if he felt his memories calling him from a distance, of a time long ago, before he finally said, “The world was never meant for polluting and abusing, but for us to take care of and enjoy. We were given this gift,” He gestured and pointed to his backyard, “This world long ago…” He stopped when he saw the look on my face. He knew well that I didn’t agree with what he was about to say.
The old man looked at me again in the eye until I couldn’t match his gaze. I stared at the ground in silence. He gave me a sad smile when I had the nerve to look back at him again.
“The world was made by a Creator, a great, mighty and loving Being who created the heavens and formed the earth, weaving our lives like ornate robes of many colours. He gave His Son as a sacrifice for worthless humans to save them from an everlasting regret and mourning in Hell, away from His presence.” He cocked his eyebrows when I opened my mouth to cry out in protest.
“Yes, even humans are worthless. Try comparing yourself to the Universe, and you can see how insignificant you really are. However, His love for you, and for me, makes us special beyond all means. He created us to be unique because we would form a relationship with Him, so that we may bring glory to His name.” He shook his head at humans’ folly and nodded towards me, “I have made my decision long ago, and have not regret it since. My master’s burden is light, his hand guiding me wherever I may go…” His words were lost by the strong winds approaching from the north, but his meaning was clear.
He suddenly turned to me and asked me urgently, “It is your turn to choose your path. What will it be?”
That was the last time I ever heard that question. The old man passed away unexpectedly the next week after our conversation, creating a gigantic tidal wave of sadness within our community. My family and I attended his recent funeral in reverence. It was a difficult time for all of us. We mourned over the dead man and when I viewed his face before they sealed the casket, I was overwhelmed with tears. I was surprised that his face revealed a smile he used to give me when I visited him. His forehead gave way to mysterious wrinkles that I had seen so many times before.
I may have had my share of arguments with him, which had often filled my lazy afternoons with excitement, and what he called, ‘a youthful passion’, but he was my Grandfather. The only adult in this entire world who would be willing to listen, understand, and guide me through life. Why did he leave me? Didn’t he know that he just carried away the only thing that matters in my life to his so-called ‘heaven’? Sobs heaved out of me as I watched them seal the casket and I began to sink into the ground, surrounded by blurred hands trying to keep me standing, trying to comfort me. Why? Why him of all the people in the world? Questions like these burst out in my mind until I was no longer able to think clearly, succumbing to an unshakable grief.
random thoughts: on death, on life, on everything.
I remembered being fully awake in my car as my family got ready to leave my grandparent's house. At 52, my grandfather had heart problems and had to use a special equipment to help him breath normally. However, it didn't stop him from kissing me on the forehead and telling my family to come back again the next day. It was 1 A.M. in the morning.
I remembered my sister shouting to me from inside the house, disrupting my leisure swim around the swimming pool. I scolded her for interrupting and asked what seemed to be the problem. She told me to get dressed as soon as possible.
"Kung-Kung meninggal."
It was 8 A.M. of the same day.
I remembered Ringo, my dad's friend's son, driving me to the mall with his siblings as our family treated them to a movie and a few games at the nearby arcade. He was curious about my personal life, something I did not wish to meddle in at that time. However, it still turned out to be a fun day for all of us.
I remembered playing a game late at night when I heard cries of shock upstairs. My dad rushed downstairs and asked whether or not I'd like to accompany him to the morgue. Needless to say, Ringo had died. He was in his 20s.
My dad's friend was surprisingly calm as we met him in the hospital. Ringo was lying on a bed, his face covered by a white sheet. The nurse removed it, and all I saw was an all too familiar face covered in blood-soaked bandages. An ambulance took Ringo's body to his house as my car followed behind it. I got to see Ringo's siblings mourning for him; a sight I've never seen, and an emotion I've never felt. Ringo died instantly trying to stop a hit-and-run bus from escaping. He was riding a motorbike, which was completely destroyed.
And I thought these stuff only happen in movies and to strangers I've never met and cared about..
"Stuff like these happen even in your own backyard."
This is true, but before it does happen, we still fail to understand how close it really gets.
Parents scold. It's what they do.
It gets so annoying that I still can't get used to it.
I was reading a book a few days ago when I overheard my mother scolding my little brother about how he treats his homework jokingly. Every time, my parents would tell me of how I'd miss their scolds when they have died. I closed my eyes and imagined a world without them, without their advices, their scolds, and their presence. It was scary.
It's 3 in the morning and I still have no idea why I write this post. I am aware however, that these were thoughts that kept me awake at night these past few days, thoughts that wrestled with my rational and moral approach on how to see the world, and thoughts that create nightmares, doubts, and regrets.
"Live life to the fullest. Live it as if every day's your last day on Earth."
Superman once saved a man from a falling building, and the man asked him: "What can I do to repay you?"
The caped crusader calmly replied, "Live a life worth saving."
I'll do just that.
The man became Steel, another superhero, and a close friend of Superman. :)
I remembered my sister shouting to me from inside the house, disrupting my leisure swim around the swimming pool. I scolded her for interrupting and asked what seemed to be the problem. She told me to get dressed as soon as possible.
"Kung-Kung meninggal."
It was 8 A.M. of the same day.
- -
I remembered Ringo, my dad's friend's son, driving me to the mall with his siblings as our family treated them to a movie and a few games at the nearby arcade. He was curious about my personal life, something I did not wish to meddle in at that time. However, it still turned out to be a fun day for all of us.
I remembered playing a game late at night when I heard cries of shock upstairs. My dad rushed downstairs and asked whether or not I'd like to accompany him to the morgue. Needless to say, Ringo had died. He was in his 20s.
My dad's friend was surprisingly calm as we met him in the hospital. Ringo was lying on a bed, his face covered by a white sheet. The nurse removed it, and all I saw was an all too familiar face covered in blood-soaked bandages. An ambulance took Ringo's body to his house as my car followed behind it. I got to see Ringo's siblings mourning for him; a sight I've never seen, and an emotion I've never felt. Ringo died instantly trying to stop a hit-and-run bus from escaping. He was riding a motorbike, which was completely destroyed.
And I thought these stuff only happen in movies and to strangers I've never met and cared about..
"Stuff like these happen even in your own backyard."
This is true, but before it does happen, we still fail to understand how close it really gets.
- -
Parents scold. It's what they do.
It gets so annoying that I still can't get used to it.
I was reading a book a few days ago when I overheard my mother scolding my little brother about how he treats his homework jokingly. Every time, my parents would tell me of how I'd miss their scolds when they have died. I closed my eyes and imagined a world without them, without their advices, their scolds, and their presence. It was scary.
- -
It's 3 in the morning and I still have no idea why I write this post. I am aware however, that these were thoughts that kept me awake at night these past few days, thoughts that wrestled with my rational and moral approach on how to see the world, and thoughts that create nightmares, doubts, and regrets.
"Live life to the fullest. Live it as if every day's your last day on Earth."
Superman once saved a man from a falling building, and the man asked him: "What can I do to repay you?"
The caped crusader calmly replied, "Live a life worth saving."
I'll do just that.
The man became Steel, another superhero, and a close friend of Superman. :)
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Sitting On My Bed; at 12AM
After 30 minutes of tossing and turning around my bed, I got up. Feeling hot and humid I stood up walk off this itch I felt. This icky disgusting and agitating feeling that lay on the pit of my stomach till the tip of my now thumping head. No longer did I think of how my currently incredibly short hair has irritated me these past few hours, thanks to the broken down AC of my humid room, I thought of what really is bothering me. Was it the sudden loneliness I felt, the feeling I now have dragged on and yet gone through a roller coaster ride that I have ridden to this very moment since the summer. Was it the irritation of my parents that never really got me? Or was it something else? Whatever it is, it has grabbed me on not only mentally but physically. I do not doubt that it will soon bother and poke around the stand I have in my own spiritual balance and beliefs.
These days I’ve spent smiling and thanking everything that is around me. My oh-so-weird friends of mine, my oh-so-annoying family and the oh-so-dreadful tear I have recently caused in my heart. Waking up everyday seems like a miracle, getting out of bed sometimes makes me feel so great to be alive and well. Other times I wish the sun would just bugger off and mind its own business elsewhere, anywhere but where I was lying. Not truly understanding this mood swings that has no physical basis what so ever, I simply shrug it off and do whatever I have planned for the day. The thing is I can’t stand it any longer. It has finally comes down to this. Either I force myself in being all happy all day, or I have to find some reason in my own behavior. I’m restless. I’m confused. I’m agitated to the point where I just might pull of all of what is left of my hair. Unlike most of my days, spending time with my friends and family, or shopping till the soles on my feet can no longer carry on, or even a day of relaxation and enjoyment can only bring me up for a short period of time. A momentary high.
Oh, how I long to be normal again. Then again, when have I ever been normal? It seems to me that I was not created to be categorized as such but to be bizarre, indifferent and unique. Have you ever been awake one of those nights and feel totally breathless and feel as if someone or something is out to get you, and your running out of time? These so called “abrupt realization” has occurred to me once or twice. I would suddenly jolt out of bed into a sitting position breathing heavily, throat dry, eyes wide, heart beating fast, terrified, paranoid, scared and no one there in the room; but me. I never really understood why I was so scared or why I felt as if time was running out on me. All I knew was that my sisters heard me screaming from next door and my older brother heard me crying. I never really remembered what I was dreaming about. I felt my life was perfectly fine. Until… my silly adolescent upbringing pushed me towards something totally neurotic and moronic to the point in which we all get blinded and driven into a bliss which in the end we would end up flat on the floor with nothing but a shattered heart and a sparkle of what can only be called hope; something we all like to call, love.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Origins: Navajo Creation Myth
*NOTE: This is not to be marked! I posted this during the holidays for fun since it’d be boring if our blog didn’t have anything new in it for two weeks!*
Darkness surrounded the atmosphere and nothing existed. No air for the earth to live on, no such thing as heaven or hell, no creatures that dominated the world. Suddenly, a voice spoke out to this darkness that was filled with love, power, and understanding. Light shone and blazed from each end of the emptiness. Slowly, as each day passed, creatures, land, sea, and sky were created lovingly as it made into existence. Finally, man was made and out of him a woman who became his wife and helper as they both took care of the newly made world that they lived in.
That was just an example of a creation story (that is accurate according to my personal belief) and there are just so many others that lay hidden in people’s traditions. Aboriginals’ stories are quite interesting and it made me wonder of how closely related most of these stories are to one another. In fact, the Bible seemed to be copied in many other historical documents/ belief systems of ancient times! There seemed to be a creator or a flood in every myth around the world similar to that of the flood mentioned in the story of Noah. It made me realize just how close we really are despite the large geographical differences that separated people hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago!
The Navajo’s creation myth is strangely close to the Bible’s Book of Genesis. A long time ago, Begochiddy, the Great God, created four worlds in which the first creatures came out. These people were not described as the people we know today for they were insects and animals of many kinds. First Man, First Woman and Spider Woman (she taught the people how to weave) came out of three of these worlds into the ‘Glittering World’ (the fourth world) and they build and met in a Hogan (house) to arrange the world that they were to live in. By this time, Begochiddy had already created the humans in whom he breathed into (earth people) and who occupied the earth’s soil. The Great God was glad that he created these things for it was all good.
The ‘Holy People’, or the other gods of the world, began to place sacred stones and mountains to mark their territory. As they painted the sky and organized the sun and moon into place, the Coyote (Child of Dawn Light) was mischievous as he spattered the stars randomly into the night after being impatient from the long tedious process of organizing the world. The Coyote was also responsible for unleashing monsters into the world after kidnapping a Water-Monster child and hidden it in his lair.
These monsters, storms and floods which drowned the world claimed many lives of the earth people. If it were not for Ever Changing Woman who married the Sun and bore twins, the earth should have surely perished. ‘Monster Slayer’ and ‘Child Born of Water’ killed off the evils of the world and were renowned as legendary heroes of the day. The ‘Holy People’ created clans of people then after the monsters were killed and rid of and three other groups of people joined these clans as they were created by the Ever Changing Woman. They together lived in harmony and peace for many years to come.
There were many other interpretations of the Navajo myth, but this is the one which grabbed my attention. My interpretation is actually a combination of two resources but the ending, I researched on the net. In many ways, this myth is very close to what we learn in school. Some great God created the world, created men, breathed into them and took charge of what he created. It was different this time because there were other worlds, other gods, and other methods of explaining an evil spirit (in their case, it would be monsters and in our case, it would be demons). When I think about it, I realize just how close these people would get to the truth. I also begin to understand why these myths always contained a sort of Creator. Look at the world, at nature, at the complexity of human character and we would truly see God’s glory in all its majesty.
*Yeah, I hope I got most of the Navajo myth (or belief) correct since the net didn’t have much on this topic... Sorry for any mistakes I may have made! Anyway, hoped that you enjoyed this myth, that is, if you haven’t known it already :)*
Darkness surrounded the atmosphere and nothing existed. No air for the earth to live on, no such thing as heaven or hell, no creatures that dominated the world. Suddenly, a voice spoke out to this darkness that was filled with love, power, and understanding. Light shone and blazed from each end of the emptiness. Slowly, as each day passed, creatures, land, sea, and sky were created lovingly as it made into existence. Finally, man was made and out of him a woman who became his wife and helper as they both took care of the newly made world that they lived in.
That was just an example of a creation story (that is accurate according to my personal belief) and there are just so many others that lay hidden in people’s traditions. Aboriginals’ stories are quite interesting and it made me wonder of how closely related most of these stories are to one another. In fact, the Bible seemed to be copied in many other historical documents/ belief systems of ancient times! There seemed to be a creator or a flood in every myth around the world similar to that of the flood mentioned in the story of Noah. It made me realize just how close we really are despite the large geographical differences that separated people hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago!
The Navajo’s creation myth is strangely close to the Bible’s Book of Genesis. A long time ago, Begochiddy, the Great God, created four worlds in which the first creatures came out. These people were not described as the people we know today for they were insects and animals of many kinds. First Man, First Woman and Spider Woman (she taught the people how to weave) came out of three of these worlds into the ‘Glittering World’ (the fourth world) and they build and met in a Hogan (house) to arrange the world that they were to live in. By this time, Begochiddy had already created the humans in whom he breathed into (earth people) and who occupied the earth’s soil. The Great God was glad that he created these things for it was all good.
The ‘Holy People’, or the other gods of the world, began to place sacred stones and mountains to mark their territory. As they painted the sky and organized the sun and moon into place, the Coyote (Child of Dawn Light) was mischievous as he spattered the stars randomly into the night after being impatient from the long tedious process of organizing the world. The Coyote was also responsible for unleashing monsters into the world after kidnapping a Water-Monster child and hidden it in his lair.
These monsters, storms and floods which drowned the world claimed many lives of the earth people. If it were not for Ever Changing Woman who married the Sun and bore twins, the earth should have surely perished. ‘Monster Slayer’ and ‘Child Born of Water’ killed off the evils of the world and were renowned as legendary heroes of the day. The ‘Holy People’ created clans of people then after the monsters were killed and rid of and three other groups of people joined these clans as they were created by the Ever Changing Woman. They together lived in harmony and peace for many years to come.
There were many other interpretations of the Navajo myth, but this is the one which grabbed my attention. My interpretation is actually a combination of two resources but the ending, I researched on the net. In many ways, this myth is very close to what we learn in school. Some great God created the world, created men, breathed into them and took charge of what he created. It was different this time because there were other worlds, other gods, and other methods of explaining an evil spirit (in their case, it would be monsters and in our case, it would be demons). When I think about it, I realize just how close these people would get to the truth. I also begin to understand why these myths always contained a sort of Creator. Look at the world, at nature, at the complexity of human character and we would truly see God’s glory in all its majesty.
*Yeah, I hope I got most of the Navajo myth (or belief) correct since the net didn’t have much on this topic... Sorry for any mistakes I may have made! Anyway, hoped that you enjoyed this myth, that is, if you haven’t known it already :)*
Sunday, October 7, 2007
My Home and Native Land
*Sorry if this blog entry was super late, but I couldn’t use the internet because I just moved and it wasn’t set up until today. I promise that I did this on Friday though, Ms. Jess! Sorry again for the lateness!*
My stomach churned, my legs trembled, and my eyes scanned the audience for my parents. The lights dazzled my sight and I felt small among the other students of my school as we slowly walked in on the stage. I was nervous, knowing full well that I would have to sing my solo later on in our school musical program; my first ever solo, to be exact. As my thoughts lingered to whether or not I would be able to recall all the words of the song, the sound of a baton rapping against a music stand interrupted my dreams of unspeakable humiliation in front of so large an audience. The conductor in front raised his hands and we all stood in attention.
And so the song began.
“Oh Canada, Our home and native land, True patriot love, In all thy sons command!…”
I sang along, never truly comprehending the meaning of the words as I was too young to realize what it actually meant to come from a nation. I was Chinese, but the country would not accept me as its own. I was born in Indonesia, but I haven’t a drop of blood in my veins which related me to its people. I lived in Canada long enough for it to consider me as a citizen, but I doubt I would ever be able to feel a national sort of pride for the country. I suppose I have, what people may refer to as, an identity crisis.
Ever since globalization had taken the world by storm, it has been difficult to realize from which nation we come from. Some people that I know from back in Canada could not find a sort of identity as well, especially in such a multicultural society where every citizen from different backgrounds is accepted in a setting of both tolerance and pride. Numerous times, I often contemplate what our world is coming to, which direction we are headed for. What would we do when enough of us do not have a nation we call home? What would we do when there would be no longer any sort of separation between cultural backgrounds, and we embrace the truth, that we are of one race; the human race?
In one of our English A1 classes, a fellow blogger commented as she read my Canadian national anthem bookmark that Canada indeed was not a true home for me. She was joking, of course, but I cannot but realize how right she actually was. Back in Canada, my classmates were so eager to have a sort of Canadian national pride, but I, being the natural Devil’s advocate, was often quiet during these discussions in usually contemplating the various lacks Canada had acquired over the years (like, for example, its horrible healthcare system and the fact that despite the promises of a better military system, our army absolutely sucks!). In essence, I was the odd one out in that I was the only one, for many years, to be born out of the country, and from the other side of the world to boot! I have, as a result from experience, an outside perspective on the world, being, in a way, ‘nationless’ (I coined a new word!).
What made my situation even more confusing was the aspect that in Canada I was made to study the second language as well as Mandarin in school. Being in a multicultural society did not help me find where I actually belonged, who I actually am. In modern society, the growing problem of numerous people not being able to belong to a certain nation is now becoming widely known. People are now able to fly, immigrate, and connect to each other so much more quickly and efficient than ever before. I find it quite strange that even though we are progressing, the simple problem of identity is now becoming a large stumbling block for many.
It was inevitably awkward to come back here again to Indonesia (a place where I solemnly vow I would never come back to again!..no offense!), knowing full well that I would return to Canada in the future. I realize that I would never truly belong to any nation and would never be able to experience a sort of national pride either. For some reason, I actually accept and welcome that aspect of my life. Even stranger is the fact that it actually marks me as different and unique. :)
My stomach churned, my legs trembled, and my eyes scanned the audience for my parents. The lights dazzled my sight and I felt small among the other students of my school as we slowly walked in on the stage. I was nervous, knowing full well that I would have to sing my solo later on in our school musical program; my first ever solo, to be exact. As my thoughts lingered to whether or not I would be able to recall all the words of the song, the sound of a baton rapping against a music stand interrupted my dreams of unspeakable humiliation in front of so large an audience. The conductor in front raised his hands and we all stood in attention.
And so the song began.
“Oh Canada, Our home and native land, True patriot love, In all thy sons command!…”
I sang along, never truly comprehending the meaning of the words as I was too young to realize what it actually meant to come from a nation. I was Chinese, but the country would not accept me as its own. I was born in Indonesia, but I haven’t a drop of blood in my veins which related me to its people. I lived in Canada long enough for it to consider me as a citizen, but I doubt I would ever be able to feel a national sort of pride for the country. I suppose I have, what people may refer to as, an identity crisis.
Ever since globalization had taken the world by storm, it has been difficult to realize from which nation we come from. Some people that I know from back in Canada could not find a sort of identity as well, especially in such a multicultural society where every citizen from different backgrounds is accepted in a setting of both tolerance and pride. Numerous times, I often contemplate what our world is coming to, which direction we are headed for. What would we do when enough of us do not have a nation we call home? What would we do when there would be no longer any sort of separation between cultural backgrounds, and we embrace the truth, that we are of one race; the human race?
In one of our English A1 classes, a fellow blogger commented as she read my Canadian national anthem bookmark that Canada indeed was not a true home for me. She was joking, of course, but I cannot but realize how right she actually was. Back in Canada, my classmates were so eager to have a sort of Canadian national pride, but I, being the natural Devil’s advocate, was often quiet during these discussions in usually contemplating the various lacks Canada had acquired over the years (like, for example, its horrible healthcare system and the fact that despite the promises of a better military system, our army absolutely sucks!). In essence, I was the odd one out in that I was the only one, for many years, to be born out of the country, and from the other side of the world to boot! I have, as a result from experience, an outside perspective on the world, being, in a way, ‘nationless’ (I coined a new word!).
What made my situation even more confusing was the aspect that in Canada I was made to study the second language as well as Mandarin in school. Being in a multicultural society did not help me find where I actually belonged, who I actually am. In modern society, the growing problem of numerous people not being able to belong to a certain nation is now becoming widely known. People are now able to fly, immigrate, and connect to each other so much more quickly and efficient than ever before. I find it quite strange that even though we are progressing, the simple problem of identity is now becoming a large stumbling block for many.
It was inevitably awkward to come back here again to Indonesia (a place where I solemnly vow I would never come back to again!..no offense!), knowing full well that I would return to Canada in the future. I realize that I would never truly belong to any nation and would never be able to experience a sort of national pride either. For some reason, I actually accept and welcome that aspect of my life. Even stranger is the fact that it actually marks me as different and unique. :)
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Dear Father
To understand this blog I wish for you to spare 7 minutes of your time to watch this link bellow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Q5T9RYLiG4
Dear Father,
I have yet to recognize Your works in my life. I do not listen. I do not obey. I do not speak the words You have embedded into my very soul. I have ashamed You Father. Yet, Your love for me has never perished nor has it diminished; rather than this Your waves of love grows stronger each day You see me living life with a smile. You are the One and Only father that know more of my very being than myself.
Father, I listen to those who have yet to know and understand You. I question Your very being though my heart knows fully of Your existence. My mind analyzes You through the words You've spoken along with those who speak of brilliance and wonder. My voice has yet to come out when those who unethically question You when they themselves claim to be Your followers.
I have wondered off from Your eyes, the days where I rejoice and smile proudly to be side by side with You has faded whilst I drown myself in works that has lost its meaning. Always staring on the ground yet always thinking of the future I have finally realized where I am. Lost. I have accused You and thought penniless of Your plan for my life. How moronic I have become without the rays of Your love and care.
When I sat crying in the midst of darkness and sorrow I have shunned You away from me, yet call earnestly for Your compassion. You stood on the other side of the door listening, not my cries, but my heart breaking. You close Your eyes and let me feel Your presence when I am oblivious to Your majestic bellowing love that surrounds the very air that I breathe. You wipe my tears away and promise for the day to come where You will then steal me away from the harsh and horrid world that I have known all my life to a serene and beautiful place called Heaven.
When I stare into nothing, You protect me from the evils that wishes to penetrate through Your love and guidance so that I might lose everything and turn to pure and utter despair. I have lost You from my eyes when You are the one who carries me. At this time, I hit, kick and scream with all my might believing that You have gone from my life when I have needed You most. A future without You leads me into a bottomless pit that has no end to the shrills of agony others have been doomed to face. I am foolish. My faith is yet to be strong to always remember that You have created me before the creation of life itself. That You have created me for a purpose, and that purpose alone is filled with the love and hope You have poured abundantly upon me.
You have given me everything; You have given me life and freedom to be myself. You have given everything You love and cherish only for me. Forgive me father. For I have forsaken You. Forgive me father. For I have doubted Your love towards me. Forgive me daddy, and take me home with You one day. When all is done and You have finally finished building the castle You have planned for me to share with others who has found their way back to You. I will wait, patiently with open arms for Your love to finally take me back to your loving arms.
Wait for me Father.
Love,
Your child.
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