Hello dears!
I need to improve on my subject lines, I know.
I spent the past weekends catching up with people I hadn’t seen in almost two years. It was a bit tiring having to tell “my story” over and over again. What happened to you? (I left the bench.) Your skin is so clear! (It’s called a facial.) You really don’t eat meat? (No.) How’s your love life? (I almost had one. So close, man. Hey, I tried.) What is WYA? (Please see www.wya.net. Would you like to sign the Charter? Here is our brochure. I made that. Would you like me to do yours? Big smile.). I felt like I should have prepared a Powerpoint presentation to show at the beginning of every meeting. Geez. Repetition wipes me out.
I had dinner with my writing mentor one night. She told me later that she was watching me closely, seeing how much I’ve changed. Most of me is still the same; I’m still really sarcastic and free-spirited and I still have the same physical habits, like clapping my hands when I’m happy and skipping when I walk. She also said that there’s a certain hardness to me now. Thank God. With my hyperactivity and happiness, I would die young if the past couple of years didn’t toughen me up or made me just a wee bit cynical.
I’ve been getting minor separation anxiety from my old life. There are things I wish I did, from the material (like stock up on Luna bars and hardbound Utrecht sketchbooks and Rives BFK paper and CMYK magazines and a list of art supplies and literature that goes on and on), to the more substantial (spent more time with friends I will likely not see again for years and years). On the bright side, it’s not as bad as when I first arrived at New York from halfway around the world. (Back then, I was pining for fresh mangoes and this particular brand of pen you can only get in Asia. Desperate, I once rehydrated dried mangoes by soaking them in water overnight. It sort of worked.) I like to think I’m getting better at this whole nomad thing, since I think it will be my lifestyle for years to come. At least I know what I usually miss: comfort food and art supplies.
I’ve learned a lot from having to change paths over and over again. Here in Manila, I try to discover something new every day, not unlike what I was doing in New York. It’s fun getting to know your home city again, and I am so happy at how it has changed since I last saw it. The art and design culture has taken off (yippee!), making me feel optimistic at meeting creative people and catching up on the art education I should have had. I am determined to find time to go on one of Carlos Celdran’s now-famous old Manila tours and perhaps discover new avenues of inspiration, since a recent bout of insomnia and listlessness has given me a creative slump the past two weeks. (I don’t know what’s up with me, but something’s not right for the past few days. Maybe it’s the heat?)
I also feel very happy at seeing young people who are determined to make the country better; despite me wanting to hop around the world and friends betting that I will likely end up in Europe (I think so, too), I still want to spend a good slice of my adult years here. Sun! Sand! Happy people! Cheap massages! You become more loyal to what you’ve left once you return to them.
One thing though – I am glad I spent time in the US that was substantial enough for me to realize that I don’t want to stay there. To be brutally honest, when you’re Asian, or in a developing country, or both, it’s somehow ingrained in your culture that America is an end in itself, a destination, the goal to shoot for. And I do see why; the respect for individualism, the education, and the potential for financial growth are among the best things I’ve seen in it. I’ve noticed this motivation in a lot of foreigners from all over the world – they would take a lot of rubbish for the sake of American citizenship, which I respect and all that. But I feel very relieved that it doesn’t fall into my list of goals.
But there is a certain sense of incompleteness I’ve always felt, living in Asia for so long. I love the continent – the reverence for nature, the respect for people and relationships, and the almost instinctive sense to care for others are things I’ve always been grateful for, more so now that I’ve been a bit more worldly and aware of how people who were not raised with these values can end up as. I think it’s having to be raised in a bi-cultural context, with my Filipino side arguably the “less Asian” than the Chinese side, in the never-ending debate on racial and cultural fractions. No side really adopts you as its own; it’s the blessing and the curse of being mixed and being distinctly so.
Asians are, on the whole, way more repressed than what I’ve experienced on the other side of the world. I’ve noticed that we have a lot of hidden anger, in contrast to my New York experiences where people would scream hysterically into their cellphones in public. I’ve often felt that we were contained in a box, being molded into something that society expected of us, which explains why we’re obsessed with getting degrees in medicine, business and law, regardless of whether we’re even passionate about the field. To rock the boat is just unspeakable, and to fall short should be something that warranted shame.
Being Filipino though, is sometimes a whole other matter altogether. If my family’s general bi-polar reactions to my career change are any indication, Filipinos will always be happy with anything I do. Thank God I’m mixed, yo! Whee! We just love having fun. It explains why, despite poverty and political turmoil, Pinoys will always rank spectacularly high on any Happiness Index. I’ve sometimes felt that it was why we kept getting colonized in the first place; we’re just way too nice and accommodating. It has its ups and downs just like anything else.
I feel so much happier being here now than I was three years ago, when I was doing grad school applications like crazy. I feel like I can finally enjoy Asian living without the societal pressure. It’s like I finally have a shot at succeeding personally, now that I don’t feel like there’s something fundamental lacking and now that no one is on my ass, knowing exactly what I will do next. I’d rather be anonymous. The only thing my friends know is that I don’t want to do anything that rides a lot on standardized tests anymore. Screw the GREs. I’m finally free! Whee! Oh happy day!
But I really miss my taekwondo class. It’s just not the same, yo. And yes, I miss you all! Sniff.
Lots of love,
Cathy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment