Advent and Apocalypse

Parents prepare gift-wrapping and children get wish list ready for Santa.

Suicidal souls worry that this would be their last season, or else they would die by default on Dec 21 or 23 , Mayan calendar apocalypse.

What would we like to do in these short weeks?

Finish those novels to know their endings?

Send an encouraging note to a child?

Cheer up an old colleague who is looking for work?

I would pray long and hard, with sincerity. By that I mean, for about a minute.

All else devoted to pounding the pavement.

Major historical shifts always involved men and women of conviction, who acted.

Their sense of self, of destiny and of timing in lock step.

In denying self, they found it.

In going to war resisting Evil, they found peace.

In the end, they face death with dignity and sense of fulfillment.

I remember reading Jobs’ biography around this time last year.

How stirring it was.  Learning about his eccentricity and obsession about product quality.

Now everyone wants an I Phone 5.

I am sure it’s on a lot of people’s wish list.

Even with Apocalypse pending.

It’s Advent season.

Both Advent and Apocalypse draw us to our knees.

To realise there are greater things than ourselves.

And we share those hopes and fears with others.

It’s the season of sharing, of gifting. This year, of hoping we can see Dec 24th and open those wrapped gifts.

Reflections of my life

” I am changing everything” …Like Holden Caulfield, catcher in the Rye.

“Oh I don’t want to die..”. The future that I once fret is my current present.

“All my sorrows”….were for nothing. They said 90% of our worries didn’t materialize.  Yet we keep worrying. Like a plague. Dec 21st or 23rd (Mayan Calendar).

Just shop til we drop ( even right after 9/11).

The world is, a bad place, a terrible place to live (lyrics).

The hardest part is to face and live with one’s self.

Tend not to those urges ( self-sabotage and self-destruction.)

Who planted them there? Those seeds? So the Earth would be less populated?

Take me back, to my own home (Lyrics).

Those GI‘s who listened to this song from a transistor radio, deep in the thick jungle of Vietnam. Have they often reflected on that experience? The Amerasian children they left behind? The bodies and chemical agents?

Who won that war? Or any war for that matter!

Perhaps both sides have lost.

Lives destroyed, and environment contaminated .

Bombs and napalms have fallen here when “Reflections of My Life” was at the top of the chart.

A generation of young people were forced to grow up really fast, to reflect on death and dying, to ask hard questions.

All my crying (lyrics)

It hurts to face separation, from neighbors and friends. The comfort zone.

Gone forever. Like a movie reel that got torn at one of the splices.

Tran Hung Dao, the Sea General, was back to sea (his imprint was on the then currency). Dust comes to dust.

In Vietnam, it’s considered “luck” to run into a funeral, not a wedding.

Yet, with Christmas season in tow, I saw 2 weddings this morning.

It’s peace-time Vietnam. The Wedding Hall is named “FOREVER“.

More optimistic in outlook now.

Fewer funerals, more weddings.

Less “reflections  of my life”, and more “accumulation of stuff”.

One thing is missing here: Black Friday shopping. That was because, American landed here back in 1965, Pleiku and not Plymouth. Hence  there was no Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. No turkey dinner. Just another weekend of laundry, coffee and a rare treat from the band. You can guess what they played here.

Yes, Reflections of My Life.  Take me to my own home (lyrics). Holden Caulfield got expelled from school. Not wanting to go back home just yet. Just ride the rail, the taxi, and anything that moves, with no particular stop in mind. The journey is the reward.

joy of giving

  • A close up view of a traffic light illuminatin...
    A close up view of a traffic light illuminating red for stop using light-emitting diodes (LED) in North Carolina, United States. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I saw Clinton’s book on Giving at Goodwill store.

The irony did not escape me: its donor must have thought he/she should act upon the idea right away.

Christmas might be the season of giving, but not when we are at a stop light, ambushed by the man with the “Help me out” sign. Our reflexive rush to get somewhere takes over.

The idea of giving is that it’s part of us, and part of life. Intrinsic and natural, not forced or enforced.

People who give are also people who receive. It closes the loop.

We often receive advice and give advice.

We even give unsolicited opinion.

Without giving, universities and charity won’t function as they have.

Grant for research and grant for immunization.

It’s a tradition in America for the super rich to give back to society.

Now, there is a wealth imbalance, which should trigger more giving to close that gap.

But it has not happened. Go figure.

So give and rediscover the joy of giving.

Get off the chair and start pull out the check book.

Try first at the stop light with the man with the sign.

P.S. After posting this for a few days, I found the man with the sign. Except that birthday boy (65th) holds the sign that says “I have a job, a home and a car. http://shine.yahoo.com/work-money/man-celebrates-65th-birthday-giving-away-free-money-174400395.html  “Want some money for coffee”

For 65 minutes, he gave out $375 to drivers at stop sign, and  found joy in giving.

Survivor’s guilt

We have heard uplifting stories about the human spirits, survivors at seas and in the wilderness. But the other side of the coin is survivor’s guilt. This reaction is just an extension of that loneliness as portrayed in Cast Away.

The story goes like this. Three guys survived a crash and found themselves on an island. Of course, “he ain’t heavy, he is my brother …” Then an angel appears to grant each one a wish. “I want to go home”.

The second guy gets the same wish. The third and only guy left couldn’t wait for his turn. He blurts it out “Gee, I wish my friends are still here with me”. You know what happened then. His wish to “friend” the other two canceled out their reunion at home, bringing them all back to that lonely island of three.

Survivor’s guilt.

It eats us up inside:

I woke up this past Christmas realising it was my friend’s last Christmas.

He has now passed away. But for that brief morning moment, I experienced a speck of guilt. Perhaps it will return next Christmas as well.

For ten years, between 1975-85, I lived in guilt. My dad had stayed behind in our home in Saigon while I partied on (Disco craze).

I ended up volunteering at refugee camps, longing to see my Dad‘s face among the crowd (in fact, one of the guys in my team got that wish: he was reunited with his two younger brothers right there in the Jubilee refugee camp).

That long decade saw the rise of Rambo character, who tried to relieve his guilt via rescue mission.

Relief or rescue, we were onto the same theme: guilt.

Eastern culture was more into “shame” than Western‘s “guilt”.

The aftermath of Vietnam left us paralyzed with both shame and guilt.

(Reflections of my life).

At times, while working out, I moved the damn weight away from my chest, all along with silent scream: ” I did not cause war”.

Yet the impact and influence are the same: separation, loss and bewilderment.

So, on that quiet beach walk, or a stroll through my moon alley, I picked up a stranded star fish, or a loose brick. Just do what I can, in smallest way to make life worth living. It matters to that particular star fish to be tossed back to the sea. Or the brick to the side of the road. Makes it a safer world.

A world without guilt. Survivor’s guilt.

Saigon Tech Talent

It could have been a waiting scene at Acoustics, Saigon Rock Alley. Except for the instruments and the bands.

They were CEO’, CTO and Venture Capitalist. Not Bar Camp, nor Web Wednesday. It’s Mobile Monday, held on Thursday night.

The cool, the calm and the co-ed. They were all there. Web to Mobile and back to Web (the mother of all).

Bruce Lee clip was shown: “to hell with obstacles, I create my own opportunities.”

So they created, collaborated and commented.

The eagerness and hunger was there, for the next big thing, even in BioTech.

When I was looking that good, I wasn’t into tech. Now another young guy, by the same first name, sat there and told us to “build an ecosystem” etc….

Back then, all I knew was sound system and we were all hair.

Features phones vs smart phones had not even been in the horizon.

Yes, Vietnam is facing an e-payment problem; its e-commerce is consequently slow to take off. But what about those who come to Vietnam from an ecosystem that doesn’t have that problem? Should we make them walk around, pay by cash? How about  Tech Support…..

So the arguments tail-spinned in a different direction.

But the thought flow and thought form were there, punctuated by occassional nods of agreement.

Tech talent got it.

They just need a jump-start, like the eagle that needs a push.

Jump, said Jesus, to the invalid who complained that every time he tried (to get himself healed) , someone else had already jumped into the pool first.

Instead of getting to the water, Bruce Lee’s advice for us  to become water.

“Water in a cup becomes the cup….”

Saigon Tech talent will need to morph and move through window in between mobility and mortality.

It was good to see 160 show up after only a few days of SMS and flash mop.  Unlike at Acoustics, I went home hungry, but not drunk.

I still remember some if not all the challenges, comments and consolation.

It’s good to have attended Mobile Monday, in T-shirt and jeans.

Celebrating Love in Saigon

Consumer confidence is up. Spending is up. Cards, chocolate and crocodile (over beer).

I thought it must be Christmas or Tet all over again.

Hunting down a ticket for A House in the Alley took me to two theaters, with the only available seats at 11:20PM.

Way pass my bedtime.

Oh well, I tried.

Supporting Vietnamese arts has its price.

From comments I overheard – on the elevator down- the audience covered their eyes, hence missing out on what they had originally come for.

Vietnamese cover their mouths when laughing, and their eyes when scared.

Live a little.

In English classes, I encouraged folks to over pronounce their consonants,  to compensate for cultural conformity and held-backs.

The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo won’t be shown here due to some skin scenes.

What is suppressed in one area will find release in another.

It’s stressful to live in a collective culture: “why don’t you find your other half?”….

Glad strangers care.

Just don’t walk by like they did in China when a kid got run over twice in public.

Back to love in the Alley.

From the look of it, Dan and his crew probably have scored.

What’s more important is they packaged horror genre with date nights.

Keep it coming.

I know tomorrow night, the theater will be back to its norm: full of empty seats.

But love goes on, and finds its outlet in sidewalk cafes, river-front beer stalls and karaoke halls.

In restless dream I walk alone…

But the idea of love will forever endure.

Or else, 80% of music and movies will go to waste. And humanity will see its sorriest day.

I will celebrate, with one more hour left of my Valentine in Vietnam.

Living in horror shop

This Valentine Day, Vietnam dating scene will be scary!

That is, if they picked  “House in the Alley” for a date movie.

Dan rented a house in District 3, and during the course of trying to find the right film treatment, discovered something about the house in the alley which he had rented (French villa).

http://t.co/NOmCihEI

I shared a Chamber of Commerce dinner with Dan not too long ago. We discussed films such as Joyeux Noel (WWI cease-fire for soldiers to celebrate Christmas. Opposite sides crawled out of their fox holes to fraternize on this snowy holiday in peace and brotherhood. No animosity, just humanity).

Dan’s knowledge and passion for movies clearly showed even then.

Or else, why would a Venture Capitalist decided to “risk”” a chunk of change to produce something that is scarry to him, financially!

I wish him all the success.

Superstition is alive and well, everywhere, but more predominantly in Vietnam, still an agricultural society (the long-breasted ghost tale..)

Now, even ghosts move to the city, and occupy the alley.

I live in the Alley (see Moon Alley).  After three-months here, I can pass as native and not banana (yellow outside, white inside).

My survival instincts long dormant start to kick in when I feel danger or threat.

You gotta to be on your guard, but not to the point of “throwing the baby out with the bath water”.

Dan and his crew (even him got lonely and called me on New Year‘s day) just have to exercise their imagination and creativity.

But, the impact I suspect will be greater for Viet Kieu overseas, since it will carry an underlying theme of nostalgia (missing even the ghosts one had left behind).

I guess, the worst case scenario for Dan is to break even, with interests paid in Underworld dollars.

They burned a lot of those last week, I heard, even I-pads, for the dead to “live” (no punt intended) in digital and 3-D.

One can hardly be lonely, not when living in a Vietnam’s alley.

Convenience and conservation

Plastic or paper?

Here or to-go?

Before we know it, billions of mindless decisions are made everyday. Taylorism (efficiency down to the smallest detail) has found its way into fast cars and fast food.

Even into our every-day use of language: just a sec, ASAP, bs.

There is no excuse for snappiness. We have stood by helplessly as McDonalization and Walmartization take over our planet.

A signage up, a tree down.

I am glad to hear that people here in Vietnam send back their equivalence of Christmas trees (Mai) back to nursery farms, where they will be replanted until next year.

In the States, only old folks get sent to hospice never to return home.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Every morning, outside my door, a man took a fast walk with his old dad.

I enjoyed watching them.

With reasonable guess, we can deduce that that man’s son will someday go with him on the same walk.

There is something in life that we cannot rush e.g. losing weight, growing deeper in a relationship, acquiring a new skill set (10,000 hours).

In college, I produced a TV spot on energy conservation.

People thought it was just a trend (back then, gasoline was still cheap, and Three Mile Island had not yet happened until I stumbled upon that scoop during my TV internship).

With tsunami and Fukushima behind us, we seem to take the so-called “tree huggers” a bit more serious.

It’s down to our every day’s choices: re-use a plastic bag, place the cigarette butts in proper places (especially in Singapore), and water the plants.

Some scientists are urging to reclassify sugar as toxic.

It seems as if we are all beginners at comprehending our planet.

The 80’s saw peak use of hair-dryers (and shoulder pads).

The 90’s water bottles and SUV‘s.

Just lately that hybrid cars started to gain some traction.

Just in time for Iran‘s rumble (hence, Venezuela‘s oil supplies as well).

Trees will still be here after we are long gone.

So those trees (cay Mai) will be back next year, delivered by the nursery just in time to bloom again for the year of the Snake.

Meanwhile our daily choices boil down to “paper or plastic”, “here or to-go”.

Sit there and eat. Save a bag, and save yourself some stress (of eating on the run). Don’t fall victim to the economy of scale (default choice is plastic and to-go). Defense!

I am growing liberal by the minute as the planet gets hotter by one degree at a time. Let me know when you found a tree-hugger. I will embrace him/her as well. Conservation takes work and thoughtfulness. Convenience just happens by default. I stand at the fork in the road, I take the road less traveled, says Frost.

Street sweeping in Saigon

I saw a funeral pouring out onto the sidewalk one day, and on the same  block, a wedding the day after.

Meanwhile, the street sweeper just went about his business of sweeping, regardless.

Even if they could use some industrial-grade sweepers, people prefer man to machine. This solves labor problems.

Scavengers make their daily routes by offering to buy anything and everything electronics.

Best Buy could use some help here.

E-waste! What a waste!

As long as one can make a buck, let someone else worry about sustainability.

I love trees but not to the point of being a tree-hugger.

But nothing gives me more pleasure than to see a shaded tree in the middle of a city.

Birds chirping, cyclo drivers napping, and my heart singing.

We got forests and we got trees.

It just that they are “unwelcome” here. Trees take up too much space.

Space for multiple use, such as weddings and funerals, marketing events and Sale Events.

One New Year down, another one (Lunar) to go.

Hoa Mai , kumquat , Lion heads, Earth man, lucky envelopes, confectionary of all kinds.

In the US, they are gearing up for Valentine.

Season changes, but street sweeper goes on sweeping.

Funeral or wedding, summer or fall.

He kept the streets clean, wiping out the past as if nothing had happened.

Bob Dylan’s equivalent , Trinh cong Son, once had a line “the bomb splattered from a distance, and the street sweeper paused to listen”.

If he were to compose a post-war version, it would be “the wedding karaoke party blasted out, and our street sweeper didn’t even stop sweeping”.

Oblivious to noise, dust, and smell, our street sweeper went about his business.

I hope among the stuff that got swept were some dead leaves; it would mean there were still hope of some shades under the scorching sun.

Street sweepers of Saigon keep sweeping and walking man walks on by. That walking man, c’est moi.

Micro Resolution

When you were young and with others, you wanted to start a revolution.

But if you were young, but alone, you might want New Year Resolution e.g. diet, “biggest loser”, learning Spanish, pick up a new skill set.

Then when you have been around the block a few times, you still think of New Year resolution, but just  micro ones e.g. jogging every other day, email your kids every other week.

We need to tell ourselves it’s not been OK. That there is room for improvement.

Never too late. For older guys, to meet someone new, even a new male friend, is a hassle: how much can I put trust in the guy even though he has been my friend’s friend? What does he want in exchange ?

In business, even with benefits spelled out in details, people still want to let it simmer. Fools rush in!

On a larger scale, consumer sentiment makes or breaks an economy already teetering on the brink. It’s been more than three long years.

We haven’t trusted ourselves enough. Nursing our wound feels safer than taking small risk.

Government gets bigger, but our paychecks smaller.

The skeptics have had a field day: they would never run out of materials for late night TV.

David Brook of the NYTimes noticed a trend in communitarianism in a small town near Baton Rouge. The kind acts were so real it could be surreal.

Neighbor actually lighted the candle at your loved one’s grave?

Makes me want to live there, to be a part of this “Utopian”.

(in fact, the main character in the story did just that, with their move from  PA back to LA).

Right now, I am living  in a city of roughly 9 Million. And tonight, there will be at least one tenth of the city gather near the river to watch the fireworks.

I am sure there have been small kind acts everyday (I helped a kid in a toy car roll up the stiff sidewalk just now).

Here, people are “white-skin envy” (mannequins in stores are all white).

If you found a black person, perhaps he/she is around 40 years old, fathered during of the Vietnam War. Other Africans who did not make the soccer team also decided to stay on but constitute a tiny portion.

I read somewhere that the greatness of a nation is in how it treats its weakest link (the US with its handicap law enactment is undeniably civilized). Nordic countries are way up there on this scale.

In the end, it’s our every-day act of kindness that adds up.

Let’s make this our micro resolution.

President Bush was sincere when he urged the nation to go about daily routine, such as shopping (right after 9/11). That resolution could be taken out of context. I would rather understand him as saying, let’s have our micro-resolution of many as answers to the macro-barbaric acts of a few. The key is togetherness. His dad’s adage was “a thousand points of lights”. Let 2012 be the year of our thousand micro resolutions.

Pay it forward!