Subscribe in a reader

• Pages

  • Home
  • Critical Essays
  • Published Essays (Chinese)



• Categories

  • Life
  • Movie
  • Poems
  • Published Essays
  • Recipes
  • Recovery
  • The Lighter Side
  • Uncategorized
  • Work Life

• Recent Posts

  • Cranberry Sauce
  • Cupcake
  • Nature Explore
  • I am who I am
  • Finally…relaxed…

• Blogroll

  • John Lindal – My husband

• Admin

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries RSS
  • Wordpress

My job is that of entertainment industry. So as an entertainment industry professional, I have subscribed to Variety, an industry magazine. I normally have the magazines scattered around, not paying much attention to it. Variety normally covers a variety of topics and is not a very crowd pleasing magazine, therefore does not have many attention noted pictures on the cover or in the inserts. However, occasionally, you can still cross a few. And one time, they did have a sexual cover on too. Tonight, my daughter whispers to me and asks me if I can screen these magazines first and put them away so she doesn’t need to see them. Otherwise, she says, I may get bad ideas.

I am dumbfounded. It reminds me of the Christian teachings that we do not see, hear, or think about things that we shall not, then we do not do them.

Today I talked to my high school math teacher, and as usual he did nothing but to encourage me in my journey of writing. I have graduated from my high school for twenty years and he still has this passion for all the students he has taught. We all remembered as a class that he used his savings to pay for the field trips of all students. On each student’s birthday, he would remember to allot the money to get the student a small birthday cake from a bakery called “Red Diamond” in Chinese. When he taught math, he made it fun and interesting. One of the students, who was considered the “talented” math material then, is now an outstanding scientific staff in Shanghai. My math teacher not only tutored him but also cooked pots of Chinese herbs for him to supplement nutrition back then. A teacher who teaches with his heart and soul is very hard to find. As a whole class, we all feel very blessed to have him. I guess he inspires us to be a better person, one who can pass these on to the next generation.

Last night, my daughter just said she wanted to stage a play and started to describe this wonderful play with me and my husband in it. I couldn’t keep track of what she said so I said “do you want to write it down?” “Ok!” She grabbed a pencil and I said “You can take a clean piece of paper.” She knew where to draw the paper from. She started to write, and she wrote, and she wrote, and she couldn’t stop. She started to read her play and edited it while at it. When I commented her good use of words and gave her a high five, she was thrilled and cheered. She got excited and wrote more until her hands were sore!

What a joy she discovered! The joy of writing! She started to see how the words come alive and how the writing can be translated into a play. Magic. But the pure magic are the thoughts and imaginations that are woven into the fabric of the play. It is wonderful.

Cheers,

Writers everywhere.

My daughter really likes to draw and paint. I mean “really” — she can draw and paint without stop. One picture after another, tirelessly. She can make paper tables, chairs and handbags for her fairies, and she can also just copy Matisse or Picasso. One time I was showing her different paintings of different artists, and was asking her what she liked most. She expressed that she could not answer that question. She likes all painters since they all like to paint. Even if she may not like all their paintings, she still can study and learn some part of it and use it on her own painting. I was amazed to hear what she had to say and I said I wish I could see the same way when it came to writing. I had to say, I like her “Artitude.”

I wondered what to see at Olympics. I am not particularly a sports fan, but as a test to our 5.1 surround sound system as well as 1080 pixels, I decided to tune in.

The game is never better! I don’t know what is it about London, or is it just the journalists this time knows how to say things, every game sounds interesting, let alone spirit lifting. Women Cycling, for example, all these athletes were cycling when the city was raining, talking about the endurance! Rowing, it was breathtaking to see the US women’s team competing with the Canadian, and they were that close! Nigh women, haven’t lost for years, the secret — every game was a new game/we haven’t won a gold before. The lead was going to retire and all of them would miss her, with the American flag raising, she put her hand on her chest singing the “star spangled banners.” And did I also say, the disabled South African athlete ran the track for the first time?!

Moments. Time. Our Heroes.

Olympics!

It was almost a year ago since I had a water accident at YMCA — I almost drowned. Today, I took my first swimming class since then. I was scared at times, but my instructor Andrea was rather patient and encouraging saying I did well. I had a floating belt around my waist, and was holding on another hand floater. When I was back swimming, I was so scared, I even made Andrea to do the pinkie promise with me that she would not let go off me! I was dog-paddling, under the water, and yes, the “please don’t do it” back swimming. After I dried off and out of shower, I actually felt pretty refreshed — wasn’t it nice to feel that I actually survived?!

I really don’t know how to start, but let’s start with my daughter. I always think she is a little wizard. Today, I was searching for the gate key all over the place. She then points out, mom, can it be in your car? “You are right” I said, holding the gate key when I fished it out of the car. When I was just about to lock the door heading off to my swimming class, “Mom, do you need flip-flops?” my daughter spoke again, and just about the right time. “Oh, you are right…” Raising a child has its own labor, but today I just felt I am the luckiest mom, reaping the benefits of a little “wizard.” Sometimes, humor comes in strange ways.

Today I was over the phone with a high school mate. When I was talking about my writing journey, I was making the note about not being able to excel at certain subjects but for drama related topics, I had no trouble excelling. Immediately she uttered “oh, that’s entertainment.” I felt a bit put down by the comment, but given who she is, a sense of arrogance is expected. When in high school, she was able to excel in all “serious” subjects. Some of the schoolmates I knew still felt short of expectations in pale comparison to her achievements. It was a rather unusual gift she had, I have to say, to be able to excel in so many subjects, aside from her own diligence. But each of us also has our own unique gift given by God, nothing to feel short about. As we graduated from high school long ago, we also need to move forward in life, to discover these gifts and to use them. Gradually, throughout life, we also learn to build our characters and to become a better person in the process. It is only in God we are complete.

When I was a little girl of seven years old, I watched a spanish movie called “high heels.” It was a story about a mother and a daughter: a mother who is a famous singer; a daughter, who is a TV news anchor and correspondent. When the daughter was a girl, she always saw her mother walking by wearing high heels — her thought of her mother was a glorious shadow that had always cast on her even after she became a famous anchor on her own right. That shadow, did not just affect her career, but her family relationship as well. She was eager to please, but hard to live as herself: who could really live in someone else’s shadow?!

As the sound of high heels echoes, my heart is torn — much as the character, I, also live in the shadow of my own mother, a successful artist and a critic. I don’t like her, though I appreciate her as a piece of art. Our relationship has become closer over the years, but my sentiments toward her seem to remain. I seem still live in her shadow and sometimes I struggle to have my own voice, a voice that can speak my mind without reservation, a mind that is appreciated by other intellectuals, and a mind that can cross the time and distance. That, I finally find it in writing where the world I create is strictly mine with characters and scenes I would like to see. In writing, my frustration within my body find peace where mind and expression finally reconcile.

As the sound of high heels echoes, I would like to pen a different ending: a girl of young age is no longer painful, instead, she hugs her pair of ballet shoes tight to her chest, and dances her own dance, with a soft ringing in the hallway…

First in Koala park, the koalas had a fight. The old bear did not like it. Next, he did to make a party. All the bears made costumes. Then, they had a party. They took off their costumes. Then they got angry. Then, the old bear said take off your costumes, the bears got angry again. Old bear then said put your costumes on, then they put part of their costumes. Last, they are happy again.

« go back — keep looking »