I've been seeing some really crass and boorish manners in the public transit system here the past couple of days.  I'm used to seeing people resting their feet on chairs, hogging chairs with their knapsacks or other bags, littering, body odor, clothes odor...

Today I was on the streetcar.  3 youths got on and they sat in the seats in front of me.  2 guys on the right and a girl on the seat in front of me. I had the aisle seat right behind the girl.  I would guess they were about 16 or 17.  The girl sat sideways facing her friends and were talking.  Suddenly she slouched down and started to cough.  She then started to slowly throw up.   It wasn't food, just liquids and quite a bit of it.  Her friends were laughing.  A few of us started to get away from her.  Those 3 just continued chatting and laughing as if nothing happened.  In the meantime, the puke went up and down the aisle as the streetcar stopped and go.  I went up to the driver and told him about the incident.  He just said "no way, really?". 

My stop was coming up soon and I was relieved to get off the streetcar.  Of course, with my luck - those 3 got off at the same stop.  They met up with some friends and she started to yell "I'm drunk!  Let's go drink some more!"

I hope she'll eventually grow up and mature into a fine young woman.  I also hope she'll find a better circle of friends.  Who knows, maybe she'll turn out to be an outstanding member of the community.   But right now, she's
got a very long way to go.

Wwhat would I do if that was my daughter?  She's too old for the feather duster (well, maybe not).  But I'd probably would give her some tough love.  I guess in some ways, I'm glad I'm not a parent.  I can understand why some parents just can't handle it. 

It's good to be back home.  When I opened the door, the plants tilted the flowers towards me.  The dust balls flew by my feet, waved hi and fled back to wherever they reside.  The bowl I left in the sink from my breakfast on Monday was still there.  The load of laundry wearily opened it's eyes and grumbled a deep  "welcome back".  It smelled a bit ripe. 

Before I had departed, I checked the departure time and found out my flight was delayed by 15 mins.  So I took my time going to the airport.  I figured I would enjoy a quiet time to decompress before heading home.  When I checked in, the guy at the desk asked if I wanted to go on an earlier flight.  Boarding was in 25 mins.  He told me that even though there's a long line up at the security, those with impending departures are being called out.  So I rushed down there, breezed through the check in and was able to get back a bit sooner.   

The only downside was the guy who was sitting beside me napped most of the time and his elbows started to slide down into me.  Sheesh... any closer and my bf would have slugged him for being the "other man". 

Despite sleeping in my own bed, I still woke up for 2 hours around 4 AM.  The rest of the day was spent at my bf's place.  We watched 2012 (it was ok... the effects are pretty good though).  There were these 2 teenaged girls (14?)  sitting near us that chatted throughout the movie.  They tried to whisper but it's like listening to crinkly candy wrap being slowly unwrapped.  It's was the first time I was glad the volume of the movie was  pretty loud.  I just don't understand why people like to talk throughout a movie.  I can't wait for Rain's Ninja Assassin.  I'll probably be screaming like a teenaged girl.  hahahaha...  

It's Sunday - the day of chores.  I have laundry going, soup simmering and pork with sweet soy sauce on the go.   
I have a pot of tea to sustain me through the day (and of course Xanga). 

I attended  a wedding recently with my family.  The happiness I felt for the bride and groom was tempered by my gloomy and cynical mood.  It was an unusually warm and sunny day for November.  The setting in the small town church was beautiful and everyone was happy.  I smiled politely and made the usual niceties.  I took a few pictures but didn't try to get any good shots.  It was just point and shoot.  I kept one eye on my dad as he started to wander off to the parking lot.  Someone asked to take a picture of me and my dad.  He said no and said "take a picture of my son instead and send it to all the girls you know."   There were chuckles all around although I cringed at that remark.  

On the way back home, I started to pay a bit more attention to the rural scenery.  It was beautiful and inviting.  I made a mental note to come back again with my bf.  The thought of this gradually softened my gloom.  I took my dad to dinner later that evening so he won't eat alone.  As we sat down, the manager came around to welcome us.  My dad told the manager that he was famished.  We quickly ordered 2 dishes, chicken and fish.  We chatted a bit here and there as he was content to just eat.  I dropped him off afterwards back at his house.  On the way out, I took a pile of letters to be mailed out.  It's bills and some donations to charities.  I didn't want to say anything.  I don't want to take over managing his finances yet.  As I drove off, I wave back at him.  It's our little routine. 

Was it a nice way to end the day? Well, not really.  During the day, he forgot my name and called me by another name.  I had expected this for years now.  I just continued on as if nothing happened.  His pride is more important than my name.  Aging gracefully - I hope I can do this when the time comes.

When my family emigrated to Canada, we didn't have turkey for Thanksgiving until a few years afterwards.  My mom always viewed the bird with suspicion.  Instead she went all out on Chinese dishes with usually with a roast duck as the centre piece.  Now keep in mind back then, roast duck was a bit of a luxury.  We only had those on special occasions. 

We also had lamb and I couldn't believe how delicious it was.  She just used garlic, oil, salt, pepper and some soy sauce.  I think she sprinkled other spices such as oregano on it too.  But it was simple and incredibly delicious.  What I remember most was how comforting the meals were.  It was just the 5 of us, since we didn't know any other relatives in the city.  The house would be filled with the smell of food.  Mom would be busy in the kitchen.  The wok would be searing and you could hear the spatula clinging and scraping against it.  One by one, the dishes would be brought out.  The soups would be simmering for most of the day to get the most flavor out from the bones and meat. 

One year, we had a roast goose for dinner.  My dad joked that he got it from the park.  Mom would give shush him and tell us he was just joking.  We did finally have a turkey.  Mom would check out all her recipe books to figure out how to cook it.  She settled on a stuffing made with chestnuts.  Dad would be the one peeling them.  She was always wary of the bird because it could get dry very easily.  We only had frozen turkey not fresh.  I don't think anyone brined turkeys back then.  She would be busy basting that bird all evening.  I don't think it was her favorite though.  The amount of leftovers horrified her.  We had turkey pie, soups... but there's only so much she could do with that turkey. 

Ultimately it wasn't just the food that I remember. It was the feeling of togetherness, a feeling of us against the world.  At home, we would be safe and secure.  The bill collectors who hounded us on late payments won't bother us on these special occasions.  On those rare times when we eat together now at my dad's place, I can still remember all those old dinners and that special feeling of togetherness.  We all had our designated chairs.  Mom's was closest to the kitchen. 

The kitchen at my dad's house is very quiet now.  The wok is still there.  A lot of the things my mom used to cook with are still there - including some ancient pots and pans we brought over with us.  The cupboards are still filled with the same dishes we used.  I hope that feeling of togetherness will continue.  Sometimes the stresses in life can drive so many wedges in family relationships. 

Thanksgiving dinner was at my brother's place with many of his extended family (his wife's family and their friends).  They are nice people and down to earth.  But I don't really have a close relationship with any of them.  There was a very cute baby there with big, blue eyes and just a delightful chuckle.  You know how I am with babies - I just melt.  But for some reasons, I just couldn't connect with this one.  It was just a baby.  Most of the conversation was just the usual small talk.  The food was very good.  My brother and his wife always do a good job roasting the turkey and it's never dry. I think the turkey was about 25 lbs and very tasty.   Everybody brought some side dishes for dinner.  I purchased a couple of cakes from a local bakery. 

After dinner, someone announced that they were expecting their first child.  Everyone was jumping up and down, clapping and cheering.  I smiled politely.  In a couple of hours, I won't remember much about the dinner or the announcement.  I just have no connection to any of them.  I guess it's different for my brother.  They are all part of his family and extended family. 

I guess I'm just not feeling the thanksgiving spirit or in a family kinda mood.  I just feel so pulled in many different directions sometimes.  There's never enough time in the day to look after all the important people in my life. 

I was going through a box of old photographs and came across my nursery class picture.  It didn't take long for me to spot myself.  A big head in a tiny body.  My brain cells that hold any memories of nursery classes have long faded.  I don't even know how old I was?  Maybe around 4?  The only thing I remember was that mothers would hang around the doorway in the first day.  They all took turns peeking into the class.  My mom told me that they only allowed this during the first week. 

Every so often, I would see someone's mom look into the class.  Sometimes I would see my mom watching me.  The next few days, she would just sit near the door and knit.  I remember one day we all had to hold hands and walk around in a circle singing something.  I refused to play this childish game.  Maybe I was just too shy.  My mom asked me why I didn't play with the others.  I just shrugged my shoulders. 

As I dug through the old photos, I saw a couple more class pictures.  I was probably around 10 and 11.  I sort of stood out a bit.  I would face in slightly different direction than the other boys or stand slightly different.  I never noticed that before.  I already knew I was different than the other boys at that age.  I just didn't think it would show up in my body language either. 

It was a bit of a happy and sad moment at lunch today with my cousin.  He's a new father now and it was great to see him, his wife and baby daughter.  His mom (my aunt) was also visiting and we haven't seen her in decades so it was good to meet up.  I reminded my dad who my cousin was and how he is related to us.  During dinner, he told me that he has absolutely no recollection of my aunt.  I just know that one day, he won't remember me anymore.  I've slowly resigned myself to this but I also know it's gonna hit me hard when it happens. 

It's not the same as looking through old photos and triggering memories. 

You know, I never understood how mom was able to cook dinner for all of us after coming home from work.  She never complained about it.  Occasionally, she would call ahead and ask us to cook rice, or to set the table.  Those were the easy stuff.  Now when I come home after a tough day at work, the last thing I want to do is cook.  I just can't figure out how she made it look so easy.  I took it all for granted.  Looking back, I wished I learn to cook earlier.

I'm not sure what made me write that.  I can't say "there isn't a day that goes by when I don't think of my mom."  anymore.  I have to confess, there are days when life just goes on.  I don't know if I should feel guilty about it.  I miss her but I've also moved on.  I know that doesn't sound right. 

You know what was one of the first steps in moving on?  It was the first time my bf and I had sex after after my mom had passed away.  It took awhile before we did anything.  It was a gentle, tender moment - the sort of thing you would do when you re-enter back into the day to day living.  It was a strange mixture of happiness, lust, sadness and guilt.  To this date, I still can't quite describe that feeling. 

I'm not sure I like these "raw entries" anymore.  I just seem to lose control over what I'm writing.  My fingers just click away on the keyboard.  Type a few words, back space, type some more... and some raw thoughts would come out.  In a few weeks, I hope to get a replacement computer and these raw entries will cease.  My spin doctors will sanitize everything before they get published.  (just kidding of course....)

Thank you all for your comments, insights and experiences on Macs and PCs.  I very much appreciate it.  Despite working for an IT company, I'm pretty well useless when it comes to technology. 

On a different note...
I am fairly competent at my job, but I know this isn't what I truly want to do.  I've felt this way for the past few years now.  I see my job as simply a way to support myself.  While I don't hate it, it doesn't stir my heart.  I'll put in the extra hours when required and do all those things people expect from a senior professional.  When I'm in a cynical mood, I simply call myself a corporate whore. 

My heart lies elsewhere.  I don't know where that is yet.  Writing and photography are two things I like to do a lot more.  It requires a different skill set and sensibility.  I don't know if I can make a living out of it. 

But we'll see - I think I need to plant a few seeds now.  I have to pack my bags and head into the office soon.  Thankfully my day is clear of meetings and appointments. 

I was on my way to the supermarket and running a bit late.  On the way there, I encountered some road construction and a tailgater.  By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I wasn't in a great mood.  As I was parking, I noticed the tailgater had also pulled in ahead of me.   I went to get a cart but didn't have exact change to unlatch it.  I went to the front desk and no one was there.  An elderly Chinese man was bagging groceries noticed me.  He pointed me to another cashier.  I went over there and waited until she was finished with a customer.  But she ignored me and went on to help the next customer. 

It just wasn't my day.  I went to get a basket instead.  As I was walked to the aisles, someone said something to me in Mandarin (this is a Chinese supermarket).  It was the elderly worker.  It took awhile for me to translate what he said.  He just wanted to know if I still wanted some change.  I said no thanks and went on my way. It didn't take me long to get all my groceries.  I rushed to the cashier and avoided the one who ignored me. 

There was an elderly lady in front of me and I waited while the cashier quickly scanned her groceries.  As the elderly lady reached for her money, some change fell loose and scattered on the floor.  The cashier looked up from bagging the groceries.  The elderly lady looked at the coins and said "Don't worry about it, it's not that much."  I glanced down and saw quite a few pennies.  I squatted down and picked up 18 cents in loose change.  As I stood up to give the money for her, I noticed the cashier had just finish placing the bags on the lady's cart.  The lady thanked both of us and went on her way. 

After I paid for my groceries, I quickly walked to my car.  As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed I was a lot more relaxed and calm.  The anger had dissipated.  I didn't think it was from picking up the loose change.  But the next time I'm stressed, I'm gonna look for that elderly woman again.  Maybe she'll drop some more coins.   If I see someone all stressed out, maybe I'll drop a bunch of pennies to return the favor. 

I accompanied my dad to his medical appointment today.  He always worries about me taking time off from work for this.  I keep assuring him that all is fine.  As we sat in the waiting room, I notice one guy in a wheelchair.  I've seen him before.  Despite the summer weather, he had a hooded sweatshirt on and he didn't look well at all.  It was the look of defeat.  There was also another man in a wheelchair.  I watched him as one on the volunteers wheel him up to the receptionists.  His face is gaunt and the baseball cap probably covered his bald head.  He has trouble with one leg which kept slipping out of the leg support.  But his eyes still looked bright and optimistic.  His smile was still there when he spoke to the receptionists. 

These volunteer receptionists always seem to remain calm and cheerful.  I often wonder how they do this all the time.  I guess after awhile, you just have to remain polite and detached.  I'm sure they know their role in this drama.

Most people in the waiting room have a serious and somber look.  This isn't a happy place.  Everyone is here for their blood tests.  Some are visibly tense.  Dad was his usual impatient self even though there were only 10 patients in front of us.  Everyone smiles politely when their numbers are called into the room.  Inside the room, there are about 10 work areas and the faint smell of alcohol hovers in the air.  The conversation is minimal - name address and birthday.  They move quickly and efficiently.   

I've been here several times now with my dad and before that with my mom.  It's like being in a play that never ends.  The patients change but everything else remains the same.  The waiting room is just one of the many settings for the daily drama between Hope and Despair.  As we leave, I ask my dad if he is game for lunch.  This has been our little ritual whenever I accompany him for tests.  He cheerfully accepts as I knew he would.  We exit stage left.