T’s mélange

In August last year, I quit my job at a TV station for several reasons, three of which are to 1. finish my postgraduate degree in journalism, 2. get my health back, and 3. just take time off from the world of extreme pressure and stress. Of course, I did full-time freelance work, but that arrangement is almost stressfree. Almost.

So these things I did do. I have been very, very fortunate in those 10 months — in the people I ended up working with, the satisfaction of finishing what I said I’d finish, having my time to myself and feeling free to do whatever I please at whatever time of the day.

When I got the call from my old company asking if I wanted my old job back as producer/reporter, it couldn’t have come at a better time. I was done with all prior commitments and though I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to fulltime work, I thought it was a pretty good time to accept.

And so I did. I’m a fulltime TV journalist, and it’s great to be doing what I love doing. But of course, I’ve already learnt by now that loving the nature of your job is not enough to keep you happy.

As if to prove this belief, I went back to my old company and realized that four people had resigned and all four of them are getting out of journalism. My heart sank — perhaps because I was afraid I would eventually do the same thing. I simply can’t imagine stopping to do what I’ve dreamed of doing since I was young. But circumstances have left my ex-colleagues no choice but to move on, and out of journalism.

At the end of the day, there isn’t really ‘the perfect job’ in its own right. It’s only ‘perfect’ when it suits our needs and wants at certain periods of our lives. The good thing about loving your job is nurturing that passion. But I’ve learnt to balance that passion with a constant reality check, because on the other end of the spectrum, it is also true that a job is just a job. It really all boils down to what you make of it, no matter what the circumstances.

I’m not sure if I’ve chosen the four best adjectives to describe how I’ve been in the past three months, but these were the first four that came to mind, so I’ll leave it at that.

1. Student life coming to an end
One of the main goals I’ve promised myself to keep is to finish the last semester of my postgraduate degree in journalism. It’s the last stretch and I’m just going to have to bear with the busy schedule a little bit more. I think keeping this goal in mind has kept me focused and calm every time I start questioning myself about my next career move, next travel plans etc. Finish school, and after April, I’m free.

2. New working environment
Although school has been the main priority, I decided to take on work that’s going to complement my school work and my schedule. I’ve been freelancing, filming with the UK crew of an international news network on an episode of their travel show (airing March 15) and I also work at another international network now. I don’t think I want to divulge that information here, but I’m in an environment where I respect the people I work with because they’re very experienced, capable and just out to do the best job possible. I’m also still coming to grips with the fact that it is a very big network and whatever is aired makes a very big impact. I could write a whole other post on journalism and everything that comes with it, but I’ll leave that for later.

3. Finding an even clearer focus…as a journalist.

4. Inspiration. Looking forward to what’s in store.

I’ll try to get the habit of blogging back. There’s so much to write about, I just don’t know where to start. For starters, I called the cops on our inconsiderate, uneducated noisy neighbours… and today, while walking around in Central, C and I walked into a crime scene. I got to talk to the Filipina helpers who were watching the mayhem and I almost cried when I heard stories of their miseries as maids in Hong Kong. Sigh…

So there…I can’t say I’m back for sure, but I’ll try to write a little more than once every 3 months.

Summer’s coming!!!

I don’t know why I’m in this mood at this moment, but I like it and for as long as I’m in it, I don’t need a reason. To sum it up, let me share something really cheesy…my favourite song, from my favourite Disney cartoon (as far as I can remember). It’s the scene where Cinderella wakes up from her sleep, and her friends (the birds, the mice and all the other animals around) are chirping away and happily singing…

a dream is a wish your heart makes
when you’re fast asleep,
in dreams you will lose your heartaches,
whatever you wish for you keep;
have faith in your dreams and someday
your rainbow will come smiling through;
no matter how your heart is grieving,
if you keep on believing…
the dream that you wish will come true

Sometimes, we forget what it is we want, and we allow ourselves to feel lost. But time and again, it’s been proven in life that the heart never forgets what it years for. When our hearts dream and wish for something so earnestly, things really do happen to make it come true.

So I try my best not to worry when I can’t seem to figure out what I want when I’m conscious, because I know deep down that I’ll get exactly what my heart wishes for.

Life is great, life is beautiful. And the best part is, there’s enough goodness to go around for everybody.

Merry Christmas to all!

This is one of my favourite photographs of the weekend. We went to see the Big Buddha on Lantau Island to accompany C’s visiting cousin and her friend. While we were taking a break from walking at the top of the stairs, C pointed at the shadows and rays of yellowish red light cast on the stone wall and walkway. I immediately took my camera in my hand, tilted it the way I wanted, and snapped this photograph. It was just beautiful, even more so in real life.

Looking at it again, the photo made me want to walk into it and just check to see what’s right around the corner. It’s a blind spot that teases curiosity. Now that it’s merely a photograph, I’ll have to deal with the urge to explore the bend and be satisfied with what I can see. And if I take another perspective, it actually rouses a feeling of excitement and hopeful anticipation.

How apt. Year ends and new years always bring about this sense of hope for an even better year ahead.

I’m giddy, seriously. I’ve always been a dreamer and I know good things never run out, no matter how long a drag life may have been. Good things in life never run out.

It’s year’s end…again. I know time flies, but it seems to fly even faster for me. Or maybe I just have a distorted sense of time when I think of it in relation to so many things I have and haven’t done in 2007. There’s an idea brewing in the back of my head and I’m not sure how much of it will actually come to life, but I may go on a blogging hiatus as far as this one is concerned. So while I’m still here, allow me to do the annual year-end recap.

What did I plan to accomplish and manage to do so in 2-0-0-7?

1. Break free from my professional comfort zone.
2. Enter broadcast journalism. Join TVB.
3. Experience Europe the way I want to.
4. Freelance.
5. Change the cycle of sadness I was in during the first 4 months of 2007.
6. Go on a sufficient sabbatical and take a break.
7. Bring my family and C even closer.
8. Take it easy, be less impulsive, but more adventurous.

And what about the things I didn’t get to accomplish this year? That’ll go to my to-do list for 2008.

Life is short, break the rules,
Forgive quickly, kiss slowly,
Love truly, laugh uncontrollably,
And never regret anything that made you smile.

I turned 26 eight days ago… and I barely celebrated it. That’s why I didn’t even bother blogging about it sooner. But it’s 2am, I can’t sleep, and I’m suddenly attacked by an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. I miss my mum and dad. I miss my youth. I miss past birthdays when the blissful ignorance of youth protected me from anything less than ideal.

I thought it was sad that I didn’t do anything special for myself on my birthday. In retrospect, I wish I had done something — but not for me. My birthday is not just a celebration of my day.

In fact, how many of us actually remember that on our birthdays, we should be the ones giving gifts to the only two people in the world who lived this experience with us: our mum and dad. If one day the whole world seems to have forgotten ‘your’ day, trust that your mother and father will remember every detail of that day.

I’ve heard the details of my first day in this world so many times. And how I wish I could hear them again at this very moment.

On the day I was born in 1981, there was a huge storm. My mother had just given birth to me, her first born, and my father had given her a bunch of flowers. They were only 23 and 27 years old. How I wish I could see their faces for myself! It was the day my father had braved the floods of Mandaluyong to find that one special food my mum had requested. (I’ll write it down as soon as I remember what it was.) He was an eager young father who would risk his health and safety just to bring happiness to his wife. They were my young parents showering me with all things good.

26 years later, a lot has changed. Lives got busier. I am no longer a child. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to spend that day with my parents because the ‘mundane busyness’ of daily life got in the way. But my parents didn’t forget. They called, they sent messages, I’m sure they prayed for everything that’s in my best interest.

I may not have had a party. Some people may have forgotten. There may have been nothing fancy. But now that I think about it, the thought of having two wonderful people to share this day with — even just in thought – is way more than enough.

Mom, dad, thank you for bringing me into this world.

Honkies are like ants in the rat race of an urban jungle.

If there’s a place that can rival New York City’s reputation as the city that never sleeps, Hong Kong is it.Every captured postcard image is one of vibrant motion. Nothing is ever still. No one wants to (pardon the cliché) stop and smell the roses because each contemplative moment could result in a lost deal, a missed trading opportunity, and a hundred thousand grand less in commissions. People would rather be doing something, anything, for fear of missing out on a single second. Of what exactly, I’m not so sure.First-time visitors of tofu town find themselves rattled by the insane speed with which everything is done. Walking. Eating. Talking. And I bet, even breathing. (No wonder SARS spread so damn fast!)

All of us Honkies rush. Rush. And rush some more. Reminds me of little ants rushing giddily along the crowded straight path that all the rest are on. None of them want to deviate from the path. They merely conform. None of those ants stop at all because they have to rush. They really do seem to be going somewhere important. I repeat, seem to be.

Same goes for the high-heeled, Armani clad, BMW-driving, expensive looking members of Hong Kong’s dough-raking working class. Do they really know where they’re headed? I’ll be making a blunt assumption by saying this: I highly doubt it.

That’s the irony of it all. We all rush to get some place, rush to get something done. After getting there, we rush again to get to yet another place and get something else done. And that’s all we ever do, over and over again. Yet, we do not have the slightest idea where we’re headed… and I mean, where we’re really headed…in life.

My take is this: There’s nothing wrong with being unsure of where to go because I don’t think we’ll ever be completely sure. Given this fact, why rush at all? Why not take a breather, appreciate life’s intangible joys, and absorb the overflowing beauty around us to make our directionless walk a little more meaningful? And even when we finally figure out where we’re headed, there’s still no point in rushing. A lost million-dollar deal is nothing compared to a missed life experience.

If we were made to live like ants, we have no business running around in Armani suits and high heels.

Republished from my old blog, May 31, 2004.

As soon as I uploaded this video, hundreds of previously uploaded self-made Hong Kong Symphony of Lights videos appeared. No surprise there. HK’s daily performance care of the skycrapers that line the harbour is truly magnificent — even for those of us who’ve spent our lives in this paradoxically shrinking and growing city.

But that’s exactly the point — sometimes I feel like I’m a visitor to my own city. I’ve always known this place to be transient, where people come and go, simply following the money. But at some point since I returned after university, I had called Hong Kong home. I really felt like it was home.

Now, however, the constant change around me makes so much so unfamiliar. There are hoards of new expats who call this city home, excitedly reporting their own versions of “local Hong Kong” to their families back home. Or worse yet, they start theorising and analysing HK and its people after only weeks of living here. They probably think that if you can say a few words in Cantonese, you’re oh-so-local. Not quite.

You can tell, I’m a bit possessive of this city. Well, the old HK I once knew at least. Now that it’s getting more and more likely that I will leave Honkie Tonk for a good long while, I’m getting nostalgic, protective of the memories I had here that no one else can understand. Not the newcomers. Not the Mandarin-speaking Europeans (we still speak Cantonese here, mind you!). Not unless you’re a honkie-raised 20-something will you understand what I feel, remember, and mean.

I took the next video on the new bridge built from the new Central Star Ferry pier. It was my second time on this bridge and it linked directly to IFC and the old footbridge leading to Prince Building. On my right, I noticed that parts of the harbour were placed with markers, indicating the space allocated for reclamation. Apparently, a new scenic green park will be built there. Oh yeah, and it’s right in front of the demolished Star Ferry pier and Queen’s pier (which will be turned into shopping malls.. I want to puke!). So if you can see through the darkness and take note of how big the land reclamation will be, you might as well say goodbye to the harbour.

Hong Kong derives its name from Heung Gong, meaning ‘fragrant harbour’. This was the city I called home. And with the disappearance of the harbour, I guess it only makes sense for me to lose my sense of belonging. A new set of expat kids will grow up in this transformed HK.

I take comfort in the thought that there are very special things about Hong Kong that memory can protect and keep alive. No amount of government stupidity can take that away. 

I will miss this city. I will miss what I have come to know as this city.

But the time has really come to leave it.

In the years I’ve spent growing up with “white” people in HK (amongst the yellows, browns and occasional blacks, reds and oranges of course), it would be accurate to say that I’ve grown up to be colour-blind. Colour-related issues are a waste of time especially when there are more interesting social topics to discuss. Topics relating to “third-culture kids” like us alone are enough to fuel a weekend’s worth of conversations. If anything, colour exists simply to ‘colour the background’, so to speak.

After three and a half years with C, I hardly ever thought of him as a white man and me as a yellow-brown girl. But people around me, particularly the stereotypical locals, constantly remind me when I am with C that he’s definitely white, and male. After more than two decades of living here, I could probably come up with a list of things which — just for the fun of it — I would categorise as “the white man’s effect”.

Whenever there’s a group of locals, particularly Chinese females, this is what happens when a white man walks by:

1. You suddenly hear bursts of English words. I’ve never heard this while growing up in HK, it’s only recently that locals seem to have deduced that a few very audible English words may attract the white man’s attention. I remember a time when a mother suddenly started talking to her 8-year-old daughter in English (with a veeeery HK accent) when C sat down beside them on the MTR.

2. Local girls, who usually carry a “shy” demeanor, would suddenly assume a chest-out-shoulders-back-head-up position, eyes slightly downcast and a tiny smile appears when the white man is visibly near.

3. Similar to the bursts of English, anyone on the phone would suddenly yell out “important” words like, “Waiii, hai arrr, ho m gan yiu, lei bei ngoh PRE-SEN-TA-TION ting yat ho m ho”…..

4. When the white man is around, any English-language reading material is flaunted. And this, I later found out, is a favourite move of my gay friend to attract the attention of a gay white man. It holds true for the heterosexuals as well.

5. Westernised Asians suddenly speak 10 decibels louder than their already ear-splitting volume. Just to make sure everyone within a 10-mile radius knows they are English-speakers… native  English speakers, mind you.

I still don’t get it. What is with the white man? Why is there a special craving for their attention?! It can be particularly irritating when I witness this ridiculous phenomenon on a bad day, but usually just plain amusing. Discretion has become a rarity, indeed.

One of the things I had written about in the last month or so is the importance of having a dream. Having a big beautiful fairytale dream is bigger than yourself, fuelling an unstoppable drive for life. The mind is everything. What you think you become. And the heart strengthens your mind’s desires, to keep that visionary flame alive. Ah yes, it’s good to dream, I stand by it. But what has probably changed is the nature of that dream, no longer quantifiable based on self-imposed standards.

I had walked an incredible journey to achieving concrete goals I’ve set for myself. It was an amazing experience to actually live my dreams. Little did I know that there is so much truth to the saying, the journey is the destination, for when I had reached my perceived destination, I felt stripped of all motivation to continue, for the adventure has been won, the race (at least this one) is over. The question hovered relentlessly, now what?

But perhaps there is another side to the story, another perspective with which to see.

We are so obsessed with doing that we have no time and no imagination left for being.  ~Thomas Merton

What if… just, what if I couldn’t find any visibly big dream to work towards at that point because… I was content? Has it ever occured to us that we do deserve to get what we’ve worked hard for, what we’ve dreamed of, and that once we’ve gotten it, we have every right to feel content? Has it ever occured to us that sometimes, we may misunderstand ourselves and think, I don’t know what I want, when in fact, the mind is blank because it wants nothing else? Ah, but human beings are insatiable, aren’t we? I’ll quote a line from the movie The Hours once more:

Clarissa Vaughn: I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn’t the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then.

Let’s not wait until it’s too late to realise that we have everything to be content about. Don’t feel sorry for yourself when you think you don’t know what you want. Just let it be. Just be.

After all, life is not a having and a getting, but a being and becoming (Myrna Loy).