Tag: Boy George

Same river twice

This is not about going back to your prom night, or re-entering the job market.

It’s about locality and landscape that have been gentrified and occupied by new comers as time passed. I happened to be by the old neighborhood where I used to live 30 years ago: same Peking Duck restaurant, same Post Office.

Even a bunch of day laborers standing around and trying to keep warm.

My parents however have passed away.

So the scenery and streets evoked warm memories.

What’s new was a French Restaurant which was staffed with recently arrived immigrants (while the speakers played French lessons, naturellement).

The neighborhood has taken on some wrinkles. So have I.

Especially on this first day of March (the worst of winter was now behind), and first day of Sequestration (even the country got some wrinkles).

People refused to break away from winter hibernation and spending spree.

Wish I could turn the clock back, to see myself receive my US citizenship again. That time frame would put me to the time waiting eagerly for my Dad to immigrate and be reunited with us.

That year (1983), I embarked on a long trip, my second one to SEA.  Only years later that I was able to attribute my hidden motivation: atonement. When we had first arrived, we were each man to his own, leaving our Mom behind in the refugee camp. My subsequent trips back to SEA similar camps were for carthasis, a counter-prevailing statement to popular  “habits of the heart”.

No fanfare. Just slipped out and away.

Trying to pay forward.

Among the Best-selling books after Habits of the Heart was, Bowling Alone, the logical next step. People turned inward, each man for himself (Ask  what you can do for yourself).

Conservatism got anointed by televised and telegenic preachers (who later confessed to unfaithfulness and unraveling affairs).

President, Pope and Pop star (j Lennon) all got shot.

Are you talking to me? For I am the only one here! Tony Montana wanted to “go to the top”, starting in Miami (after a brief stop at Indiantown Gap refugee processing center, same place our now scattered families had passed through).

I had blurry memories of the mid-80’s simply because I was concentrating on non-profit work overseas.

When I got back, I seemed to have missed a few beats (Boy George? Cindy Lauper?) and a few friends’ weddings.

So, after three decades, the memory gap is huge. Can’t seem to swim in the same river twice.

I have changed. The place has changed. It’s now colder than I remembered. Perhaps I have turned to be a “tropical species”.

Maybe I should be migrating South to Florida, and joining the “snow birds” .

Maybe a cruise ship, so I don’t need to belong anywhere in particular, or swim in any river per se.

The price of being a global citizen is the loss of one’s local identity.

I will never forget the punch line in Cross-Cultural class: it’s easier to cross the ocean miles away than the neighbor next to you. When I saw the new neighbors in that neighborhood today, the above saying seems to take on new meaning: they did all the ocean-crossing to get here. And to reach out across the aisle seems to be doubly hard, because of rules and signs that say “first comes first served”, “Do not trespass”, or “Do Not Disturb” “Beware of Dogs”. Maybe I should return in the summer, when the community pool is opened to all residents, regardless of color, race and creed. “Swim at your own risks”. Even then, you are lucky to strike a conversation across the lounge chairs. Be quiet! People are reading. Hope they don’t work on “Habits of the Heart” in 2013. Even Tom Wolfe has moved on down to Miami with Back to Blood, away from New York ‘s Bonfire of  the Vanities.

Switching the script

On film set, writer is often called out on short notice to fix the dialogue.

Something is better left unsaid or sounded odd when in “live” context.

In life, we can’t retrace our steps to switch the script.

It’s live, and happened once only.

There lies the importance of getting the right words first time around.

Another way to lessen the impact of misspoken words, is to come out immediately and retract.

Even the NYT does that.

When the facts are not straight, when a character is mis-portrayed, the best way for editors to damage control is to come out clean.

We happen to live on this side of the communication (data) explosion.

Facts and fiction are both out there.

As mentioned in Brand America a few blogs ago, people do come here and reinvent themselves e.g. name change (anglicized), hair-coloring and new wardrobe. Voila! Boy George and Bieber. Entertainers and sports idols are hot. They are more than hot. They sell merchandise.

Just Do  It.

After all, we move about our days, filtering ads and spam mail.

No wonder we long for those “in” mail.

Someone cares enough to probe and not to pitch.

And we in turn empathize with their plights, the pressures they are under.

If only we could switch the script. Living a new life and assuming a new persona.

Like when we were kids, imagining we had just been adopted by our real parents.

We wished for another life, another script (if only the writer were standing by as fixer).

Then we would be reclaimed, taken back to the castle and live a happy life ever after.

When I grew up, there was such a story. Of a half-breed (African-Vietnamese). Co Ba Xi. The man who had fathered her left only to come back years later as King of his tribe. Vietnamese Cinderella. But that’s just one jewel among a variety of Immigrant stories, ranging from model minority stories to loser’s stories.

One last thing about scripting. As long as we live out our story, and not someone else’s.

At the end of all travel is to return to the same place and to know ourselves for the first time.

It is often said, life is 10 per cent action and 90 per cent reaction. When a large part of life is lived out of reaction instead of proactive, we are not living our life script. Paul Anka would be proud to hear his “My Way” sung by 7 Billion.

Why wait for the writer to come to our rescue?

We are the writers, we are the world.

While still alive, we can switch the script, reinvent the characters, and overcome the challenges.

As long as we know what we want.

Or seek help. There are people who are gentle and kind (not just in San Francisco or down in the Bayou), and whose advice are plenty and fitting (learned this in Vietnam. People still give out free advice as if they were still living in a village).

I am indebted to professionals on LinkedIn, who endorsed my skill set and characters.

I am grateful for “followers” . People who trek the trail of current Recession and the trajectory of Social Media.

What a time we are living in, and what a company we are keeping. Just as we thought we should throw in the towel, then comes help.

I am the sum of my relationships. Two old people in their early 40’s were still at it, hence, creating me.

Now I live out that script, all the while hoping to switch those last pages.

Hope to read about your multi-chapter, multi-tasking life whose script is not written in stone, but evolving with unpredictable twist and turn and whose ending is happy albeit not perfect.