Tag: Christmas

10,000 hours

How many among us actually put in that many hours pursuing one thing?

Yet studies show it takes that much practice to master a skill or a trade.

That long to promote ourselves to the rank of outlier : Bill Gates coding skill, the Beatles smooth performance etc…

Today marks my first 10,000 views of this silly blog, which I started as an experiment, to see if the Recession would break or make me as in Hemingway‘s Farewell to Arms “the world breaks them all…but we remain strong in broken places”.

I started blogging when I was married, until I am single again for two years.

It remains my focal point and commitment. To fail time and time again, and stand up if not standing tall.

I am sure the Beatles learned this lesson. They put it in the lyrics of My Sweet

Guitar Gently Weeps “with every mistake, we will surely be learning”.

As adults, we  shy away from trying out new things, meeting new people and going to new places.

We take the path of least resistance. I have friends who keyed down the karaoke coding for their song list, and started to punch them in while the rest of us fumble through the dirty pages of its song book. Apparently these people just want to stay within their range and comfort zone.

I understand the fear of the unknown.  I am living it everyday: from motor-biking on the streets of Saigon, to meeting new faces.

I often found relief, culturally, when going indoor, air-conditioned and culturally conditioned (English-speaking, pipe-in music, and preferably with a menu I can order from without hesitation).

The American part in me must be the true Quiet American, seeking and embracing the Third Force.

Neither here nor there. So sometimes, I escape to my cocoon.

Expats who came here from the Philippines, Singapore and America express similar sentiments.

They are a bit homesick. Like during this time of the year. White Christmas and Oh Holy Night.

It gets cool here but not winter cold. I still put on my shorts and T-shirt, sandals and helmet.

Perhaps it will take a total of 10,000 hours of coming back and living in Vietnam for me to hone my survival skill.

People seem to go about their daily lives, not in quiet desperation, and certainly, not constituting “the lonely crowd” as David Reisman puts it. I hardly came across news of lonely people commit suicide over Christmas holidays as I had read in the States.

On Christmas Eve, in Saigon, people just pour out onto the streets, taking souvenir photos, in front of major hotels (using  their decorations as photo-shoot background) and go to the church (Notre Dame du Saigon). The sacred and profane intersect that night like an annual eclipse.

It’s known as Noel, after the French. And well-off families would gather for Reveillon mid-night dinner.

Now that part I can relate to. The feeling of in but not of it, alone in the crowd, celebrating but not belonging.

Something significant takes place in those hours, of the crowd pushing but not hurrying, dressing up but not showing off.

Just logging in another year, an hour or ten hours toward that something called life experience.

Now that I have put down my humble and jumble thoughts, being viewed for more than 10,000 times, I hope I can detect a pattern. Some of you are also lonely, but not to the point of desperation. It’s our Christmas and Holy Night.

Someone important is joining our party. Might not “tenu de soiree”, but wrapped in peasant cloth. To the trained eyes (the 3 kings), it’s a phenomenon. But to us, commoners, our instinct tells us it’s an event not to be missed. Cut through the noise and clutter, we might find the gem. No matter how you view Nativity, Christmas is here to stay. An excuse for us to affirm our humanity and to be validated. Yes, you are still here. I am still here. Mistakes and all. 10,000 hours to go. Starting now. We’ve only just begun. With baby steps. With starting point in the manger or manager office. As long as we don’t lose sight of that child-like fearlessness, of trying out new things, seeing new faces and learning a few more lines of poem, of lyrics or famous motivational quotes.

The intent of 10,000-hour grunt is not to discourage us. It is rather a reinforcement and affirmation for us to keep trying and fail, instead of fail to try. ( I know the difference between this and the definition of insanity). Persistence is fumble after fumble without losing enthusiasm, says Winston Churchill (I have just learned this quote today). Merry Christmas to you and yours. Never stop trying.

 

Say “cheese”!

I touched on this slightly in another blog. It’s about growing up never knew if my grandparents even smiled at all (I gathered this from the black and white photos in the family album).

We are still shackled by the analog world which tells us to stand straight and stare straight into the lenses (36 poses max).

Yet cameras are now built in the smart phones. It’s digital. It’s universal almost.

So why not say “cheese”! Every moment is now an event… the outing, the posting caught on camera.

Picture-taking used to be a Christmas event to document how babies have grown. To make post cards and greeting cards.

With online convenience, we now send greetings digitally. It’s fitting that I pen these lines an hour before the coming year of the Snake.

My parents used to whip up some poems to welcome the New Year and refresh our spirits.

It’s a necessary reboot.

Everyone works hard there in the East (more manual labor than Industrialized West). The hot weather makes you sweat all day.

A/C is for the white-collar folks.

If you were to document in photos a day in the life of an average worker in Vietnam, you would find that he/she gets up very early and tries to beat traffic and everyone else.  He/she either goes for a run before sunrise or not at all.

Then strong coffee. Then chopping woods, so to speak . People either divide up a huge chunk of meat, or newspaper delivery folks a huge pile of papers, or lottery sellers got their tickets at predetermined gathering points.

When the sun glistens, open air markets are already in full swing: fish and fruits, eggs and noodle.

People have breakfast and people have fights.

All in a life of an average worker. Traffic smog and traffic accidents. Back to and from work. Then the night life. In full swing. Snacks on wheels at night market. Bangkok or Saigon. On the waterfront, or back in the alleys. Life at its rawest. Capture it on camera.

Let it go not. Why wait. Things won’t stay the same. In our life time, we saw this digital revolution. At least, future generations can deduce that their grandparents indeed say “Cheese” for the digital cameras. Back when I had my TV internship, that regional station was still hanging on to half film (with dark-room processing of news reels) and half tape. I am sure it has gone completely digital by now.

Loosen those tight grips of the analog shackle. We have yet seen the full implication of complete digitization. Who would still laminate a classic book, knowing that it’s available on Kindle. Yes, we have seen rising unemployment, which was a result of automation and digitization, which in turn, is causing underemployment for others. The 55-hour work week will soon be reduced to 35, to accommodate incoming workers.

Work less, enjoy life more. What else can we ask for standing on giants’ shoulders and inventions of the 21st century. Cheers!

Above and Below

I live next door to a convent and behind a restaurant/bar. The differences are quite obvious: Above and Below.

One life style is to focus on the afterlife, the other , this life.

For the weeks leading to Christmas, I heard rehearsals and refrains on one end, toasts and talks on the other.

Both found an intersect: human frailty (life is too short!).

But parted company at different conclusions: invest in the afterlife vs burn baby burn.

Paul Anka’s My Way speaks to man’s deep desire and yearning for self-assertion “I did it my way”.

We are endowed with different set of genes.

Combined, we shall conquer, Our Way.

I am not proposing Purgatorial compromise.

Just 1+1=3.

We would all be better off learning how the others feel, and fail, how we could be of help, or send for help.

Instead, we close our eyes (and ears), mumble a few thoughtless words, and secretly wish the problems (in this case, person) would go away.

Of course, we all are going to go away (Life is too short)

But in the here and now, we share the commons, and together we can conquer.

It’s better for students to learn the science and art of being fellow human first, than for them to learn the high art and science of above. Or, as a compromise, I propose a triangle: Above, You and I. In other words, the person we are interacting with deserves full and equal weight in that triangle at each  encounter and engagement (after all, we are all Mercy’s presence to each other).

We know Life is too short. We appreciate each passing moment and memory.

We realise each one of us is far from being perfect. The burden is not on us to “decode” them, or “fix ” them. Just acknowledge that we are weaklings, our weakness is their strength, and hopefully, vice versa.

That’s why we need each other, even enemies. In Joyeux Noel, opposing sides agreed on a cease-fire to celebrate Christmas. All Alpha Males. Farewell to arms. Just toast. Just below, but thanks to Above (the Reason of the Season).

What a beautiful picture. Very moving. And it could be found in the here and now, even in enemy’s camps. I know, I know, you want to do it your way.

I am just saying, this is “My Way”, not necessarily Above-or-Below forced dichotomy.

Winner takes all

We will hear a lot of ABBA‘s Happy New Year this week. But “the Winner Takes It All” speaks directly to our zeo-sum society.

You lose, I win.

There are only limited “chips” on the table. Scarcity causes rising values. Hot air also rises. Like New Year’s champagne bubbles.

It’s time for a 2012 wrap up. To tabulate and look at the bottom line while drinking bottom-up. Swallow the strong drink and let go of the past.

Time flows only one way.

And the winner takes all. It’s the name of the game.

People and companies are urged to give and give to anyone, any cause, except to Uncle Sam.

Budget short fall.

Remember that one year when the IRS actually refunded the extra tax?

Fair game.

It’s only numbers. And it’s pure math.

As if numbers exist in thin air, unrelated to society and people (who are hurting).

There have been a lot of discussions in academic circle to “humanize” the business schools (courses on ethics, communication and inter-cultural communication) after what happened four years ago. Even Medical schools realise their future doctors need some human skills when interacting with patients in the real world.

In short, those who earn the most feel the least for their clients.

By now, even the least sensitive of them should realise that when people are hurting, they don’t make for good clients, if they still show up at all to use their services.

Politicians ironically are aware of their shrinking tax base, at least every four years.

That leaves the job (of drawing our attention to society’s weakest link) to priests and pastors, who, couldn’t tell one acronym from the other. The cultural divide. Work and Life, faith and science.

It’s another bookend, year-end. We have survived a couple of perfect storms that knocked down the house of cards. The winner did take all. That leaves us, losers.

Be not sore. Lick not those wounds, and give them not the satisfaction. Instead, look forward to a future where all are winners. It’s possible. As long as we take turn, or else, it’s another version of Utopia. Yesterday’s winners might very well be tomorrow’s losers (the Innovator’s Dilemma). That’s why VC‘s keep hunting for new and upcoming talent.

That’s why we expect the next big thing around the bend. Keep our blood pumping. “If we don’t, we might as well lay down and die”. Champagne anyone?

Life as Unfinished Book

I brave heavy traffic to get to the book store on Nguyen Hue again.

Just to find out if Murukami’s 1Q84 part II in Vietnamese was available.

It hadn’t. Back and forth for nothing. But the two interwoven stories must have that crisscrossing point, a happy ending.

Can’t wait to find out.

And that was just a novel.  With its dream-like quality.

How about our own lives?

It’s Christmas in Vietnam. The lottery-ticket peddlers are still out pushing luck. The dumpster divers are still after a lucky find. Children are in school, workers at work just to improve their lots.

Nothing unusual, except for the concentration of tourists and picture takers at Saigon tourist quarter, where hotels put up Vegas-style Christmas display.

Noel, as it is called here, is a convergence of realities, now as it has always: manger and Magi, homeless and Honda.

People here don’t believe in magic. Just money.

Isn’t everywhere else?

Cash or credit?

The tree can be fake or real, but the cash has to be cold and hard cash.

Will your life and mine have a happy ending? or like the story of Christmas, it started with birth and ended with burial. The Resurrection sounds like it was added on to give the movement some momentum (Like the Mayan believers after Dec 21st).

For now, the story got another reading. Baby and bath water.

Don’t throw both out. Just believe. Finish the first part of the book.

Just like your lives and mine: beginning, middle and ending.

Can someone tell me what happens to Aomame and Tengo in 1Q84. Will they meet again and have a happy ending. I can’t wait to find out.

Omega

Since her debut, Skeeter Davis with her hit “The End of the World” has etched in our collective memory.

Since then, we have gone through a series of doomsday threats: ICBM‘s, fate of the Earth, hot and Cold War, now Doomsday 2012). In Murakami’s latest 1Q84, our principal female character, who once was a Personal Trainer, learned that when male offenders got kicked in the balls, it felt like “end of the world”. Parents in Newtown felt like End of the World a week before Christmas. Doomsday came early for them.

I am afraid the Omega point doesn’t come as swiftly and decisively, but more evolutionarily until “mankind for the second time will have discovered fire”. We will face our own “Dec 21st”, with or without regret, individually. But in my end, my beginning.

More empathy. More humane.

That said. I have come across disturbing news here in Vietnam Yahoo page lately: college student got stabbed right on campus, 4 young-female gang stabbed strangers in Binh Duong etc…  I notice a lot of machetes and ice cubes. One was for chopping coconuts and sugar cane, the other for cooling the drinks.

Rage and rampage are everywhere, North and South,  East and West.

Don’t think worldwide Recession have nothing to do with “Back to Blood“.

I hope judges in New York think of global consequences, the ripple effect. Instead of just “securing” Madoff in a comfortable A/C North Carolina prison with visitation rights.

White-collar crime got white-collar sentences.

Blue-collar folks with or without committing a crime, have already been condemned to a low- brow life.

But then, Omega comes. The end point. The equalizer of all sentences. Justice is served. Poetically. One stanza and one standard for all.

For now,we still have to finish our given “sentence”. Just do time.

An act of kindness here, a condolence there. (A colleague from MCI is among the Newtown parents whose kids were shot down, point-blank).

Doomsday for him? No, he refused to let the tragedy define them. People are posting and wearing Purple, the color his late daughter used to love.

Go Purple! Bleed Orange (MCI classic color).

Til the day we all bleed red. Individualized Omega point “when mankind will have discovered fire”.

In my end, my beginning. Go ahead, make my day (Dec 21st, 2012). Either way, just don’t kick me in the balls.

Tears for Connecticut

If this blog were written in ink, it would be blotted with tears.

The photo of a school parent on cell  phone crying says it all.

Tears over wireless. Tears over space. Heck, I am in Vietnam, and won’t be back after Christmas. But I feel the pinch, the lump in the throat (try to listen to Tears in Heaven, by Eric Clapton, while advancing the slides about Newtown memorial service).

Who is to be blamed? God? Gun? or (lack of ) Gut?

The First Lady has been hard at work to improve school lunch (healthier menu). She got some opposition there (how hard is it to add yogurt and sliced apple to the institutional menu? Just outsource to McDonald).

Now, the job is not to add fresh fruit to the school. It’s to take the guns out of it.

The upcoming battle in America is not from outside. It’s right there from within.

Hollywood has taken the path of least resistance (sex + violence =  high revenue).

Porn sites were even lazier (just upload and watch your own).

Moralists are definitely not listened to (Cultural Literacy recommends the public to read Chaucer etc…) since they are way out of touch with mainstream conversation.

That leaves the World Wild West unfiltered.

In Back to Blood, Tom Wolfe painted an America of the future, with setting in Miami (giant projected porn flick on sail boats).

Each President got a four-year term, or 8 years max. Policies and politics don’t take the long view. They can not.

Career officers, of course, just do their jobs (until it changes again).

Meanwhile, no single person, well-meaning or not, can affect the outcome of the country. It’s natural selection. It always has been since its founding.

Checks and bounces. On the other hand, it’s this and that. When in doubt, we debate. Once in a while, we listen to Ron Paul, at least, out of courtesy, since it was his last speech before Congress.

But then, we move on. Short-term amnesia. Until the next tragedy. Aurora seems so far away. Now, it’s Newtown, Connecticut. Then, who could pro-actively prevent Newton, Mass? Wipe those tears away. Then, stand up. (as of this edit, there was a similar tragedy averted in Central FL University).

Those gun laws were written in their times within the agrarian Frontier contexts. Take the meaning, reframe it in new context. Yes, there are timeless stuff (right to privacy, right to self-defense and freedom of expression; all the good stuff that makes America what it is, a magnet to the world’s braves), but then, would you, as an Iraqi refugee, an Egyptian businessman, a French chef and Australian educator, think twice about coming to America, risking everything, including the young lives of your children? It makes for poor image as world’s leader.

When dreams are gone!

A few blogs ago, I wrote about Noel Decoration in Saigon.

A few weeks from now, the glitters will have been all gone.

Party is over.

Then, it’s a long grind. 2013.

The quants have already crunchedl year-end data: sunk costs, margin, consumer behavior (irrational at times – hint: sell spirits over the holidays).

The monks look on Christmas helplessly. They wait their turn (Buddhist birthday).

Girl friends are hoping loudly for gifts, employees for bonus.

After all, it’s Christ‘s birthday.

The author became a character in a  play he had created.

Empathy. Homelessness. Rejection. Illegitimacy (ask him for his birth certificate).

Our consumerist society has co-opted and corrupted every single occasion to sell merchandise. Together, we build “brand”.

The dream goes like this, “it’s Christmas, the season of giving. So borrow and buy, first for your miserable self, then for those near and far, like them or not. Ship them, don’t like them, then return them. We will send something else, or give you store credits to shop some more”.

Many of these “gifts” end up in the closet along with next year’s wrapping papers.

And dreams just don’t stop there. New Year’s Resolution, ranging from vocational training, weight loss program, and cosmetic surgery. We keep trying, because after all, “life’s a moment in space” with a few surprises around the bend (hopefully they installed mirrors around the curves).

“When dreams are gone, it’s a lonelier place”. In a few weeks, those same hot spots where decorations are now up, will be desolate.

The crowd will have moved on, from Bethlehem to Babel, from cashier to customer service. Next! Return or exchange? 2013, long grind.

No rest for the weary

Saigon currently is under a shield of grey. The weary, the worried put on ponchos, just to take them off. False alarm.

Oh Come Ye O Faithful blasted out from neighboring homes.

Christmas is in the air. but not for those who make a living hand-to-mouth, and there are a lot them. Maybe this year is the year they can go back home to the countryside.

At rush hour, on CMTT, I spot one blonde girl in a taxi, engulfed by thousands of bikes, inching for any empty space.

The Western lady and the common folks, both try to get somewhere. But they are worlds apart (albeit separated by only thin glass). Even American felt hemmed in on narrow streets of Paris

let alone being in this tight a spot.

It’s symbolic of today’s Vietnam. You may find I-phone 5 and I-pad here.  You can even spot a celebrity now and then. But from their standpoint, even when it moves fast, it still cannot catch up with ROW.

With rising expectation we find more crime on the street. I heard two incidents where people yell “cuop” (thieves).  Scooters chasing scooters. Not sure who was who.

But on cooler days like today, with Christmas in the air, I hope for some rest,for myself and for the weary. For those who sell lottery tickets, those peddlers, recyclers, those who wear cone hats or contact lens.

We even have a blind singer who shouts “We will we will rock you“.  May he have some rest before tonight’s show.

It’s been hot here, with almost two weeks of drought.  You can see it in people’s faces.  Just find a shade, a tree, a breeze, a fan or a A/C room.

Don’t judge (until you experience it for yourself) why people start drinking cold beer around 3PM.  Or the girls, traditionally prefer lighter skin, only go out late evening.

With low GDP, high temperature and young work force, the combination hast been far from perfect albeit promising. As a whole, Vietnam has one thing in its favor: the future. For now, the analog generation is giving way to the digital.

And it’s the latter who shall rule. First online, then off. For now, the weary keeps selling lottery tickets, sweeping the streets by hand, and even starting a fire by charcoal. Just to earn those three meals a day is hard work.  Just so the young can play games online. Can learn English. And occasionally, ride a Wet-and-Wild at nearby theme parks.

Life is good.  The population is happy.  What’s a credit card anyway? I got my change back given to me in two hands. I respect that. Keep at it. Don’t lose it.

Noel decoration

In front of Eden mall, Saigon, Christmas ornaments are on display. People here love to come and take pictures. It’s a tradition.

It’s their annual pilgrim, blending East and West (Noel decorationas prelude to Tet’s celebration).

Sidewalks still uneven. Tourists still trip over loosed bricks.  Yet they keep coming.

The other boulevard (Ham Nghi) with Old Market (Cho Cu) steps up to the plate, serving as a de facto alley to Le Loi, now upscaled.

Ham Nghi see all the buses, the technical school and retail shops for the natives. Le Loi, tourists.

The tale of two boulevards, born of the same period, but serving two different constituencies.

If I were a backpacker, Saigon to me would be a maze of alleys, of cheap beer and beds, knock-off goods at Ben Thanh Market and pirated CD copies. Backpackers would go on day tours to Cu Chi and Mekong Delta. Then I would never know how the rest of Saigon live and love.

A stone throw away, people hang out along the stinky canal (Nhieu Loc).

Exercise crowd early morning, and beer crowd late afternoon.

Both backpackers and natives could live on a few dollars a day. But the two shall never meet.

Different expectations, different outcomes.

One just passes through (taking in the smell and sensation), the other stays put (dropping off and picking kids up at school).

Then somehow, the week before Noel and Tet, they both conjoin, in front of a Nativity display, those pine trees and ornaments, with empty boxes underneath, but more guarded than bank vaults.

Then both tourists and natives would smile for the cameras.  Smile to record the worried faces (will next year be a better one).

The Sad Hymn is played on air, and the line sticks in one’s head “Noel nam nao chung minh co nhau” (Last Christmas we were together, but not this year).

I had a friend who died last year right after Christmas. I still remember that Noel was his last.

Sad Hymn. He used to play in the lobby of the Hyatt, just around the corner from those bustling decoration. This year, some pianist is taking up that spot, that gig, to blanket the place with classy “ambience”. Outside, throngs of tourists and natives continue to burn gasoline, cruising by to see those flashing lights. And Sad Hymn is played again and again (just like Silent Night in the States), but no one pauses to remember an old friend.

Funny how the same decoration could trigger different responses from people, regardless where they are from. We are all passing by year after year after circling the Colonial French Round-about in front of Eden Mall.