Getaway

It has been a gorgeous three spring days in Vancouver. Blue skies and snowed capped mountains, lakes and the ocean all around enveloped in cherry blossoms – what more can a girl ask for? The beauty is surreal.

I am trying very hard not to freak out in waiting. Everyday on the way home on the skytrain I wonder if a letter or package from SSHRC came, even though I keep saying to myself that it will come on a day when I am not expecting it. I looked again at my application package today, and I realized that I misspelt my street name on the form under “current address” even though my permanent address is correct. I laughed at myself, a part of me secretly wondering, is this why I haven’t heard anything yet? I just finished firing off an email confirming the correct spelling of my street. I reread the guidelines on the website on how the funds will be used and distributed, and what I have to do if I end up changing programs and schools. I applied for SSHRC for political science at UT, but if I decide to go into planning at UT, I am not sure if that would affect my eligibility. Really, I am interested in the same damn thing. I am interesting in changing structures, such as institutions or the rules of the game, in order to allow for more equitable and just social policies and programs. Same ideas, different possible applications with the two programs – I just…I just don’t know if it would still be OK…that is of course, that I win the darn award in the first place.

And what if I don’t win? I don’t know how my application could be better, if it can be better – I spent so long writing it, worked so hard to achieve the grades and the references. I’ll probably cry. Wait, I am already. I don’t know if I would still go if I didn’t get the award. My parents offered to help support me for my first year. That is a very difficult thing for me to accept, and I don’t know if I would really take up their offer. A part of my beats myself for traveling to Asia this summer instead of working to save money for grad school. Realistically, if I didn’t travel this summer and I worked, I would save enough for first year without a loan. But I know this is perhaps my only chance of traveling…I don’t know when the next opportunity would come, if it would. And I think, what is $17 500 worth? Is it worth all my anxiety over this anticipated award? I feel like it is worth so much, and yet so little. For all I know, I could get into a car accident tomorrow, easily totaling more than $17 500, or contract a deadly disease, with extra medical bills totaling easily ten times more than $17 500.

I remember that I had no idea how I would really afford to take that semester off UBC and go to TWU in Ottawa when I applied for the LLC. I didn’t even know how cold Ottawa would be, and could you believe that I never researched it? Or cared enough to research it? I just…went and believed I guess. I never thought I would win that $10 000 scholarship, I still remember checking my email nonchalantly as usual on one typical day while working that summer at Bard on the Beach, and literally falling off my chair when I saw that email saying "congratulations!" God are you trying to provide for me like that again? Either through this council or through my parents? I just feel that the stakes are so much higher. If I accept my parent’s money, for the first time in my life, I feel like I owe them performance. Perhaps more importantly, I owe myself performance. Even if I receive the award, I still think about how I am going to pay my second year tuition and living, and the student loans I have left over from my undergrad. It’s like this never ending cycle. The reality of life and survival is strong, and its chains bind me. But breathe Anna breathe, one day at a time...the world is not on your shoulders...though it feels like it sometimes.

It must be kind of nice not to have to worry about finances. To not have to work part time or during the summer to survive, and to be able to throw away things without repercussions. I know everyone has their burdens though, that I can’t discount or even compare. It’s not fair like that, but God you know what I mean. It’s just a passing feeling I get sometimes, like now.

I am having a really good time at home right now, with my family and with extended church family, and friends. These are the moments that you want to freeze and stay in forever – but I know they can’t last, or else they wouldn’t be so good. It’s like what the Greek gods said to mortals right? That it’s the gods who are jealous of mortals because their mortality makes every moment precious, everything count.

People at work have been really great. I can feel that they genuinely care about me, the offers from Catherine and Paula to ask people they know in Toronto about housing. When I told Catherine that I got into UT planning, she gave me a hug! It was so nice. I know my parents are proud and supportive, the way my mom told me about my parent’s financial offer, it’s just not expressed in the same way that’s all. I'm truly blessed.

I went to see my family doctor today to see the results of the blood and urine test – and no I am not anemic! Perfectly healthy. Peter just got another job again, at in telemarketing. He’s so happy whenever he gets an interview or offer, and he’s had quite a few now. I’m happy too, but I worry about my parents. It’s so nice to see that they have some time together off, like this weekend when my dad was actually home at nights. For years, he hasn’t been able to be home for dinner. Him being home is a rare occasion. I guess I just want to see my parents be able to enjoy their life instead of working so much in order to support the family, to support these kids that are suppose to have left the nest already. I dyed my mom’s hair on Saturday, pretty good job if I do say so myself, and I see her grays and whites. Just give me a few more years, the voice within me screams, and I’ll be able to help support you…But maybe they understand a more sacrificial love than I do, that enables them to go on everyday in spite of it all.

I am so scared and I am so sad, dramatized by my random bursts of tears. LOL, it’s like the song “Getaway” by Monica. Not a famous singer, but maybe the superwoman complex...

(verse 1)
started as a little girl
singing soul changed my world
flipped my world upside down
i got lost and i couldn't be found
so much on my shoulders
and so much on my mind
seems no one can help me
i think i just need some time

(Chorus)
sometimes i wish i could fly away
looking for a place to getaway
get away from all the heartache and pain
that life can bring
i really dont wanna sound
like i cant stand my ground
but everybody need some time
that they can getaway...

(verse 2)
sometimes i wish i was invisible
cause then no one would know where i am
to ask me for anything
cause ive given so much of me
when is it time for me to receive
cause Monica has her needs
who's gonna look out for me

(Chorus)
sometimes i wish i could hide away
looking for a place to getaway
get away from all the heartache and pain
that life can bring
i really dont wanna sound
like i cant hold my ground
but everybody need some time
that they can getaway...

(verse 3)
you know im not superwoman
and im not made of steel
i try my best to handle
all i have to deal with
not as easy as it seems
and to think this was my dream
now for everything i have im grateful
but sometimes i wanna getaway

(Chorus)
sometimes i wish i could hide away
looking for a place to getaway
get away from all the heartache and pain
that life can bring
i really dont wanna sound
like i cant hold my ground
but everybody need some time
that they can getaway...

(Chorus)
sometimes i wish i could hide away
looking for a place to getaway
get away from all the heartache and pain
that life can bring
i really dont wanna sound
like i cant stand my ground
but everybody need some time
that they can getaway...

And like there are other tracks on the CD, there are other tracks to life. Some tracks will be slower, some faster, and some sweeter than others. God, I leave it up to you to play those tracks out, may you give me the wisdom to live my days full of compassion and love. I really like this poem...

We cannot pray to You, O God, to end the war;
For we now that You made the world in a way
That man must find his own path to peace
Within himself and with his neighbor.
We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end starvation;
For you have already given us the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.
We cannot merely pray to You, O God,
To root out prejudice,
For you have already given us eyes
With which to see the good in all men
If we would only use them rightly.
We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end despair,
For You have already given us the power
To clear away slums and to give hope
If we would only use our power justly.
We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end disease,
For you have already given us great minds with which
To search out cures and healing,
If we would only use them constructively.
Therefore we pray to You instead, O God,
For strength, determination, and willpower,
To do instead of just to pray,
To become instead of merely to wish.

The Seventh Day

I seldom watch television, but once in a while a show will catch my eye. My mom, sister and I spent our free waking hours during the last two days watching The Seventh Day. It was good! So cheesy I know, and of course I cried, but so good.

Maybe God does answer my prayers in funny ways. I was pretty upset early this week, some frustrating circumstances at work that had me near tears at one point, and with what happened at home. As I went to bed Monday night and thought about on the skytrain rides to and from work, why me, why do all these bad things happen to me...the day-old questions since the beginning.

The TV series was about two couples, and the last big struggle for one of the couples was that the girl had a fatal genetic disorder. Can't give away the story, but when I was watching the show I was thinking about how many hurdles both couples had to endure. I always get angry and anxious during the times when they break up or aren't together, sometimes that's why I don't like watching these things! I know life is not television, but interesting I thought this particular series is a bit more down-to-earth and realistic than other HK dramas. I could relate to having to fight the battles, and basking in the good times when they come.

I think my life is at one of those 'good times' right now. If life were like a beaker of chemicals, I can see that there are many reactions that can take place at any moment that can change the entire composition to be too acidic or too basic. For now though, it's pretty neutral.

The most surprising part of this TVB series I think, was seeing the subtle hints of God. The storyline by the mostly-absent narrator/painter ended with the phrase regarding 'the seventh day' and how though creation was called into being on the other six days...it was that day that is the best, the most beautiful, because it was the day of rest.

Nothing in life is certain, and I more and more realize the fragility of life and my own mortality and the mortality of all those I love. I want to bask, to rest and to enjoy the beauty of this 'seventh day'.

I haven’t been so angry for some time. I just feel as if the weight of the world, at least the world that is my family, lies on my bare bony, shoulders. It’s not like I wanted to yell at my 80something grandmother, but when the kettle loudly whistled in the kitchen - thank goodness I heard it - and I ran out to take it off the stove, I couldn’t believe that my grandmother was nowhere to be found. She had forgotten about the kettle and was upstairs, and of course couldn’t hear the kettle. Had I not been home, and normally I would have been out running, the house would have probably burned down as the stove element was on the highest setting. Even when I took the kettle off, there were sparks.

My grandmother means well, she wants to help out. With old age though, there are just certain things that one forgets and one isn’t able to do as well – things like fire and water are dangerous elements. I didn’t mean to yell at my grandmother, my only living grandparent, my intention was just to tell her that she doesn’t have to do these things. My family has been telling her this for a long time, but she feels guilty that if she doesn’t perform these tasks, we’ll be unhappy that they are undone. I tried to explain that’s not the case in my broken cantonese, and that there are other things she can do just as well if she wanted to help out, like washing vegetables. I feel sorry that my grandmother is bored. How could she not be? A widower and one with little formal education, there’s not much to do to pass the time away. At times like these sometimes I wonder if it’s better just to die or hire a private nursing maid. Sounds cruel doesn’t it but I’m being honest.

At the age of 22, I feel the weight of supporting my family. My sister’s consistent ill health, including bouts of IBS and scary carcinoids, my brother’s schizophrenia and lack of independence, and my parents trying to save for retirement in self employment…and take care of their elder kids. I scream and I yell in my mind - damnit why me? At the age of 22, I am trying to educate myself so I can provide for myself in the future, because I sure don’t have a trust fund or an inheritance waiting for me. More like than not, I will be supporting my family financially in the future. All I have is me. Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to associate with or not scream at people who complain about not having a significant other, a job or particular material possessions. But I try to smile and sympathize and not be a bitch and judge, but…there is so much more to life than these.

My heart breaks for elder abuse, which statistically happens more often than you think. My grandmother has pasts ghosts that haunt her, and undoubtedly drive some of her actions. Living through the communist revolution in China, it’s not had to see how hard it must have been falling from grace when her husband was a KMT official to being a refuge, dirt poor in Hong Kong. Seniors should be cared for within a loving community, not neglected and yelled at by people wishing they would just die.

Maybe I’m just selfish and I don’t want to lay my life down to sacrifice for my family – to give up my dreams and stay at home to serve them. It would require some superwoman effort, for example I could do my masters at UBC and still live at home commuting about 3 hours a day, or I could forget my masters altogether and take some kind of job that I don’t like but would pay the bills. I would be miserable but I could. I just don’t want to. Is it unloving? To use the best years of life this way. Maybe it’s just a matter of perspective. Maybe it’s circumstances that can easily change. Maybe…I have to give up my dreams and ambitions. So I ask myself, a very basic question. What does the Lord require of me? Why, my life verse, to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with him (Micah 6:8). What does that mean? How do I apply that? Perhaps it isn’t to make policy, to write fabulous articles, or to plan better programs like I dream but to be at home. And somehow find joy in it. I’ll let you know when I get there.

Kelly and I spent a day doing girlie things during the Easter weekend and one of the things we were talking amidst eating Bearded Paps and noodles was about suffering. She was saying how the reason the two of us are still friends, unlike many of our other high school relationships, is because we share many things in common, one of the most being the fact that we both went through a greal deal of shit in our teenage years. Different stories, for her it was a life-or-death surgery and all that goes along with it, and for me, it was a plague of diseases that befall upon my siblings. Many people that we know, but don’t really know, I am sure can relate to these kinds of experiences, and have likewise concluded that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”…and the hope, always the hope, that this means better days ahead.

God, I am on the ground faced down at this point. Please take this headache from me. It is gorgeous outside in Vancouver, and I have to believe, like Alex said to me last night, that “it’s OK and it’s going to be good.”

Love is the reason. Period.

So I have finally mustered up the courage to watch A Beautiful Mind tonight at Alvina's house. The movie came out quite a few years ago and though I knew the gist of the storyline, I hadn't taken the initiative to watch it despite always referring to the movie, when explaining schizophrenia, my brother's condition, to others. In light of the reality that I may be leaving my fair city for graduate school, I'm trying to work through my list of mental, emotional and spiritual 'baggage' (you know those things that make you cringe when you think about them?), and tonight was one hit.

I liked the movie a lot, and even more so since it was based on the real-life story of John Nash. Although my brother is neither a mathematical genius nor Nobel Peace prize winner, my family can relate to the many of the characteristics and struggles depicted in the movie: the difficulty in getting the patient to realize they have a problem and to treatment, the side effects of treatment, the shame, and the feelings of anger, guilt and sadness to them, to God, to ourselves. Thank God that my brother was diagnosed in the 1990s and not the 1950s when the shock treatment was in its heyday, but the 'hit and miss' of chemicals in little capsules, remains.

I liked how the movie didn't have a 'happy ending' so to speak. At the end, even at the reception of the prize, John Nash wasn't able to get rid of the three people hallucinations. But I really like this line that John says, "I still see things that are not here. I just choose not to acknowledge them. Like a diet of the mind, I just choose not to indulge certain appetites; like my appetite for patterns; perhaps my appetite to imagine and to dream." Despite medical advances, there is no cure for schizophrenia, like many other mental illnesses and illnesses in general. There are just some things that are beyond the best of mankind, that one has to submit and accept. A person has to choose to live with them despite it, and fight. The people around have to, too. As I watched the movie, I had a mix of pity and admiration for John's wife, Alicia. To choose to love, simply because love is the reason even when there is no reciprocation. That's love. Have you ever thought about what it means "to live till death do us part". Can you imagine your other falling into some ill state, would you quit, nobody would blame you...except maybe yourself. There have been days when I definitely wanted to quit my family. Probably days where I did, momentarily at least.

I think circumstances change quickly. I was thinking, jokingly, in my mind recently how much "easier" it would be for my current decision-making process, if I ended up liking a fellow public servant type while I was in Ottawa. To marry a PS-er would seem so perfect and 'easy'. But life isn't like that, and more importantly, those are only circumstances. I think it's when you make the decision to tough it out when circumstances are difficult, that matters, that makes the difference. That's love. I think there's sacrifice. Maybe that's why the world is so attracted to sacrificial love.here have been rough rides with my family in terms of my bro, that I am now beginning to work through and understand, about ten years after they happened. There are rough waves right now in my current relationship, things that are just for the moment, outside both of our power. Sometimes life is just hard, or down right crappy. Sometimes, like today, and many days past, like Alicia, I just need to believe that something extraordinary is possible in order to get by.

Kits Beach, Vancouver

Every so often, a day like today comes, where I am reminded that life really isn’t that complicated. I think I have a tendency of focusing so much on the decisions I have to make in front of me, that I think the rest of the world is disharmonious, when in reality, perhaps it is I who has fallen out of step with it.

I went for a quick run after work today in my neighbourhood. It was 8 degrees outside and the clouds opened up to allow a slight drizzle, the kind that kisses you with a touch both soft and refreshing to the skin. There’s a tiny stream that runs down the hill in the area, which eventually collects and feeds into Brunette River. Growing up, I played in the streams, fascinated by waterfalls and the like after seeing the majestic powers of Niagara Falls when I was eight. It’s been a while since I had visited this said stream, so when I innocently ran past one portion of it today, I was struck by the winding path of the stream. It reminded me of a winding road.

Life is no longer as straight and narrow as I once thought it was. There is this song by Jars of Clay called “This Road” and it talks about how the Christian life is the “straight and narrow”. Every since then, I held the view that life would be just that, straight and narrow, black and white. Gazing at the stream, thinking about it, I realize that maybe that is not what the author meant at all, that it is not the correct image at all.

Life comes with its twists and turns. What caught my eye about the stream was how beautiful it was, how the S-bends carved into the ground were shaped so perfectly, as if they were created to be exactly that way. When the song says that the road is straight and narrow, maybe it doesn’t mean that there are no bends, no twists and turns. After all, it’s not like our eighty-some years are a direct line from point A to point B. Accidents fall, miracles are born, life happens. I think it just means that our vision must be straight, and that ground we trot upon is narrow – as we trod and navigate through the twists and turns.

Looking back at my own little entourage of S-bends in life, many things have fit into place, where I never imagined and didn’t even know would fit into place. I remember filling out a form every year for “career and personal development” in high school. I remember filling in the boxes listing my five and ten year goals with something like “going to university” and “getting married”. Well, university is ending and here I am, arms open waiting, with empty boxes to fill once again. More twists and turns.

My prayer is that the pieces will continue to fall, as I continue to live, with the fear of God that compels me. I received a letter and another photo from Israel today, my sponsor child from Tanzania. What a beautiful country. With the real wisdom of a child, Israel shared with me a verse found in Proverbs 1:7. It says, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Paraphrased, it's like acknowledging and following God is the starting point of being skillful in living. This is a famous proverb, and often preached. It just seemed different when I heard it today...I guess that's because it's my own message of love from across the world.

"I know, I know, the sky is what makes the oceans blue..." (Ben Lee - Love me like the world is ending)

Most of the time, I try to find a reason for everything that happens, for good and bad things but mostly for the bad things that happen in life. It's like finding a reason for something helps comfort me, and make me feel better knowing that my suffering has some tall end. I feel like I am in one of those predicaments now, knowing in my mind that my present predicaments have meaning, namely to develop/refine my character, but it still sucks.

I am really glad my bro landed his first job, tho it's not the most ideal job for him, in my opinion. It's his first job though nonetheless and I want to pull my share of the weight and help out at home too, in order to support him. So when my dad asked me tonight if I could work for a few hours Tuesdays afternoons-evening after I finish work (since he can't work at the shop anymore obviously and my parents are teaching chinese school at the time), as my contribution to the family, I felt really selfish for NOT wanting to. But I really don't want to add a "few more hours" onto my 10 hour days, and be bored, bored, bored for a few more hours (there is only so much you can do when there is nothing to do...).

So I've been flipping through the little book of James and it is darn hard stuff. It talks a lot about developing patience and perseverence, about going through suffering and trials. About considering it joy. It's this whole deal about living well, living wisely, doing/being what you should be doing/being. It's a whole new response to living a life of love...and my response? Umm...sounds good guys, but I'm not there yet.

It's like there's this one prompt inside me that urges me to move out (go to grad school awayyyy in Toronto) and make a life for myself, sans the chains of 'the family'. And then there's the other part of my heart that tugs upon hearing that, and cries out, "Anna are you heartless?" Little birdie's gotta fly, indeed I think she left the nest a long time ago, but the nest is still the nest, sticky branches made with spit and all. The nest was never in many ways, in my eyes, sufficient, that is, it didn't measure up to the standards I imposed on itself - wasn't comfy enough, tall enough, and had enough time for me. But still, it's the one that shaped me, shapes me.

Life's been pretty difficult and I've been doing my fair share of asking the "whys" and mourning over "what wasn't" and "what was", and what wasn't "fair" and how it "could of been". I cry. And cry. And cry. Relationships with friends have changed, and some have outright died. A flower is beautiful, but flowers die after their season, some come back, but some don't. All we can do is appreciate the beauty now, for we don't know what will happen in the future. Concern and worries over my family continue, my aging parents, my siblings' financial securities, even though I am limited in what I can do. I guess the most is to make sure that my relationships with them are right. Try not to feel burdened and sacked. Suck it up sometimes ("be a woman " LOL no one says that). And of course, cry when necessary.

At the same time, the life juggle continues, I still have a full-time job and school. I have rolled out enough applications for a lifetime, thank you very much. Enough anxiety trying to figure out how I will pay off my student loans, finance my graduate education, do what I love...and fit in things to keep my sanity (exercise, nothingness, TRAVEL, meaningful relationships...but not necessarily in that order).

It's a tough job for a 22-year old. And yes, yes, yes, the amazing stories I have heard of people who have gone through sooooo much more than I ever will inspires me and puts life for me into perspective- through being a child soldier, a girl prostitute, you name it. But it's still hard.

Most importantly, then there's the heart, and the person you love. And maybe you have to let that go for now too, and ungrasp it from your hand because you know it's not yours when you have to grasp onto it like that. And it's like, damn. It's like everything seems to ALMOST fit together so perfectly...and also, so not at the same time. All you can do is do your stuff, and have faith that what is destined to happen, will. Most of the time, I think doing the right thing means doing the hard thing, which sucks. Yep, that's right, it sucks.

So...it's 9:48PM and I have to go sleep so I can wake up at 5:30AM for work tomorrow. I pray that God will give me the strength to wake up for the day (cuz sometimes you just don't want to), the patience to live through the day (ppl annoy you), and the wisdom to live through the day (live, live, live, not just survive).

"I know, I know the sky is what makes the oceans blue..."

___________

To read a pretty cool article, click here.

But I am not there yet
The lighted orb slowly makes it ascent
As the crisp cool air steals away my breath
Click, clack, click! – hurried footsteps to the ground
Almost – but I am not there yet

Sweet melodies play in my ear, breaking silence
As I swim between consciousness and sleep
Da da, da da – heavy palpitations to the beat
On my way – but I am not there yet

Fluorescent ions light up the city skyline
As my hands and feet set into perfect motion
Tap tap, tap tap – nimble fingers to madness
I am here – but I am not there yet

Shadows drift in ad out of spaces all day
As my spirit inside yearns to embrace another
Moaning, groaning – empty hearts born to burst
Do you hear? But I am not there yet

Sometimes divine visions overwhelm my senses
As my eyes open to see the realm of dreams
Reaching, reaching – only courage wills to action
Fathomable – but I am still not there yet…

And as I leave and write the end of another day
What will the world I leave behind me say?
That I played it safe? Or did I live out faith?
I am not there yet, but I am here –
Today.


|Lake Louise, Alberta|plate of strawberries|Times Square, NYC|my window|War Museum, Ottawa|me, Vancouver