Helping me decide

Yesterday, you came over and I asked you which watch I should get. I had gotten two at the store the other day and couldn’t decide which one I liked better, and since I couldn’t decide between those, I wondered if I should hop online to purchase my usual analog, thin-strapped watch I had used for years. You immediately said “No, no, you’re not going to do that,” to the last option because it was time for something new and different on my wrist.

After talking pros and cons back and forth you were pointing me in the direction of the white watch with colored numbers and a light-up face, the one I had the most hesitation about. Yet I was making excuses for it, and at that moment I knew that’s the one I would keep over the small-faced, dark and classy one. Because why get a watch that was just fine when I could get one that was fun and different?

I didn’t have to bring back both watches home to begin with, but I knew I wanted to ask you. I would have sent you pictures of them, showed them to you via video chat, or written up pros and cons to help you help me decide. Because that’s what it is: not that I trust your fashion advice, not that I wanted your opinion of which one I should keep. I talk my decisions through with you because you always help me figure out what I’m thinking. Because you know. You can hear the undertones and my reasons and piece together what I haven’t thought yet.

I feel like this is going to be me in three months.

And I will remember
The bells of Burns Tower
The beep of the crosswalk
The man in the newsboy cap at Empresso
"Hey there, sweetie" from Linda with Bon Apetit
"Hi, Audrey" from Dr. Saviz
The sound of a car pulling up in front of the house
The roll of the trash cans being taken out
The rhythmic clicks of unlocking the front door
My parking spot in front of Brookside Hall
The squeak of the branches against my window

I read somewhere that moving is like a break-up. I've never experienced the latter, but the idea is that at first you notice every day or week that passes, then the months, then slowly you start to forget how long it's been there. I can imagine this, but check back with me in few months to see how I feel.

Losing momentum

Things I waste my time doing	Things I want to get done
Looking at apartments…over and over again Planning for the room I don’t have Looking online for things I want to buy at some point in life Reading too many articles that people post (instead of being selective about what actually matters to me) Facebook   Re-reading emails multiple times	Work on funding so I can be on campus full-time Learn about Sac State Read Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen Work out (run, pilates) Finish editing and posting pictures in my ridiculously long queue Leave Stockton well

Action steps

• Set aside specific time to respond to emails and facebook
• Make a list of people I want to spend time with before I leave Stockton, start scheduling!
• Schedule in concrete time for FD and stick. to. it.
• Edit pictures instead of just looking at them
• ...more TBD.

giant family tree

This weekend I found out that I have more relatives than I thought. I always knew there were two older male cousins and four older female cousins. These six are on the top of the cousin family tree, then there's a group of cousins within 3 years of my age, then there are the younger ones around Alan's age. Anyway, it turns out that there are actually four older male cousins, we just rarely see the third and fourth ones. And by "rarely" I mean, even more rarely than we see the others.

Apparently, my dad's youngest brother (xiao hsu) had a daughter five years ago. And all this time I thought his son was the only child...well, better to find out now than when they visit in four weeks!

foreign familiarity

This weekend I am spending time with my extended family for the first time in seven years, since our family trip to Malaysia in 2005. My dad's sister (Er gu--second aunt), her husband (Er gu zhang--second aunt's husband), their daughter-in-law/my cousin's wife (biao tsao) and their twin 8-year-olds are visiting America for the very first time. Sadly my cousin (Er biao gu--second big guy-cousin) had to go back to town to work after they spent time in LA, so we couldn't see him.

There have been classic Fight-for-the-Bill situations with an incredible amount of skill. Tonight, just after the food arrived, my mom brought her credit card to the cashier, only to find out that my biao tsao had already left cash there. When did that happen? She had also managed to pay for lunch, to our utter surprise. I wonder if my parents have grown rusty from the several years of arranging who is treating who because of what occasion.

My biao tsao is excited over the noodle soup, claiming that it is just like Malaysian kuey teow tung. The languages fly across the table as my mom tells them the restaurant workers are teowchew: Mandarin and teowchew and--whoops--a phrase in Malay. My sister and I laugh as we recount how Anthony and I count 1-6 in Cantonese, only to finish 7-10 in teowchew (classic story of my mixed-dialect family). Ergu zhang claim that Malaysians know the most languages: English, Malay, and multiple dialects of Chinese, and some even pick up a hint of an Indian language. I realize this is just part of the people I belong to and not just a random quality of my family.

Between the seven adults, we nearly finish the little glass jar of green chili at the dinner table. I find myself adding more than usual to my meal, as if seeing my er gu zhang eat a piece of chili with every bite has motivated me to increase my tolerance as well.

As I spend time with them, I remember that I love the Chinese language, complications and all. I find myself ashamed when I can't catch my tones correctly (then again, around Malaysian Chinese, Mandarin doesn't even compare). I love the random terms you can pair together to describe relations between relatives: aunt on dad's side, aunt-spouse, cousin-spouse, cousin-aunt (this is the term my er gu concluded with when trying to figure out what my cousin's kids should call me).

Obligatory tourist activities!

I also inwardly chuckle at the nuances of two different worlds.  Er gu zhang asked me today what the red meant on the crosswalk, and I had to explain that the red hand means don't walk, and the white figure means it's okay to go. Last night, he kept walking to my side of the car instead of the passenger side. Er gu puzzled at the size difference between a dime and a nickel. My cousin's kids sang along to Taio Cruz's Dyanmite in Just Dance 3, only the second half sounded like it had Chinese phrases thrown in.

Lastly I marvel that this is my dad's sister and his brother-in-law, and my dad has said at one point, it seemed like he didn't look like any of his siblings except my er gu. I can see that. I can also see a bit of myself or Alan in these young cousins. There's always the thought of, "Who would I have been if mom and dad didn't move?" but we will never, never know. But for this weekend, we're all catching hints of a Malaysian accent floating into our Chinese and English. And it feels good to know our family, even in this short period of time. Sometimes the isolation of our family feels so apparent with no extended family to speak to, celebrate with. With each new birth or wedding I find out via facebook, I am reminded that we are the cousins in America they rarely see. But this weekend, they are here. Hearing us speak English while eating a lot of Chinese food, looking at pictures of our younger years hanging on the wall, sitting in our cars and experiencing small hints of our lives.

What 13 hours can do

I have spent 16 hours of the past 24 hours asleep, which comes out to 2/3's of a day.

But at least my headache is mostly gone, my throat doesn't hurt, and my sniffles may just be attributed to allergies.

One of these days, when I'm not working a morning job, I need to do one of those sleep-as-long-as-you-can-for-a-whole-week exercises.

Now the question is: do I go back to sleep (which sounds quite lovely even though I just woke up two hours ago), or get some work done?

Where to next?

Usually I put my shoes away, or they end up scattered around the room (slippers by my bed, sneakers in the closet, running shoes actually in the shoe rack on the closet door like they belong). But these past two days have seen the accumulation of my footwear all in one spot. It’s like I can’t decide what I’m doing next: running for leisurely sake? lounging around at night in slippers? picking up messes around the house in flip flops? running a whole day of errands in hot summer heat? Leaving? Staying? Going deeper? Being rooted out?

On a different note, I called Adam-brother who has been handling my family’s Verizon accounts for what seems like the past decade or so. Turns out he can easily change my phone number if I go in. I guess after nearly seven years it’s time to move on from my Bay Area area code. And four years in the 916 is a rather long time. But I must say it’s rather overwhelming to think of all the accounts my phone number is linked to that I’m going to have to update. And when do I do it? ASAP? (Might as well, my impulsive impatient self says).

The reality and permanence of the next step is slowly starting to sink in. Jesus, show me how this is a promise land when it feels like an unknown wilderness.