2004-09-03, 12:04 p.m.
Traditional meditation puts me to sleep, but I find running to be just the right kind for me. All other thoughts leave my mind as I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, breathing correctly, and not stopping before I said I would. I always end up feeling much better after a good run. Today I also saw an amputee testing out different kinds of running legs. He was in incredible shape.
I was with my mom this weekend as she continued to clean out my grandma/grandpa/aunt's house with her other sisters. They're a sad bunch. My mom gave me my grandparents' wedding portrait which hung in their house.
At the bottom of a shoebox, I found an Easter card I'd drawn for my grandma when I was a kid. I can't believe she'd kept it. I also found multiple lists my grandpa had typewritten on binder paper listing the birthdates of his ancestors, children, and grandchildren. They were all written in half Vietnamese, half French. I also found random notes my grandma had left for my grandpa: "Old man, turn off the ricepot at 3pm." It made me remember who they really were rather than the invalids that they'd become.
I have VERY little patience these days...especially for people who can't deal with their own problems, for those who blame their problems on others, for those who can't take care of themselves, and for those who can't follow simple instructions. In just under two weeks, I'll be sitting on the sandy shores of Brazil. Hopefully I can keep my head on straight until then.
I've been really unmotivated to do anything lately. My mom called me with an uncharacteristic request yesterday, signalling to me that she's not doing too well with all of this. And really, I don't expect her to--it has been a rough year. I'm going to encourage her to go back to volunteering for the Red Cross as an interpreter at the Children's Hospital. She did that when I was younger and she had more time...and now that she has more time again, she can continue to do good and fill the void.
A man died in J's brother's apartment building last night. He was carried out on a stretcher. J's bro is freaking out and wants to move out of the apartment immediately. 9 months ago, I probably would have felt the same way. Now, I'm indifferent to dead bodies...I've seen 4 in the last 9 months and they don't faze me anymore. Death is a part of life, however much it sucks and however much I miss these people. But I'm still not immune enough to work in the funeral industry. I do wonder what a funeral directors' convention is like, though.
Old Lady Lan strikes again. Last night, drunken fratboys and their sorority hos were mingling on the corner for 45 minutes after the bar had closed. Talking loudly, screaming, hooting, hollering...it's Monday night folks! And you've already woken me up three times. So I hollered out the window, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" (I'm not responsible for my language when awoken from my slumber--just ask J) to which they responded "Where'd that come from? You're #1" But they did shut up and made their way home...but not before driving by twice, honking the horn, and yelling "FUCK YOU!" At first, I was mad, but then I thought about it and probably would have done the same thing in my drunken state. And then Old Lady Lan thought about how that guy must be driving drunk...glad my car wasn't parked on the street.
In other news, there is poo smeared on the apartment's callbox. Ew.
I kept my mom company for a bit while she continued to clean out my grandma/grandpa/aunt's house. I'm trying to make it a point to visit her as often as I can--she's lost so much this year and I know it makes her happy to see me. It's the least I can do. She gave me a small plastic gorilla that she found in my aunt's top drawer. Then she scurried off to church with a jar of salad dressing from my godmother.
3610 songs, 9.7 days, 12.72 GB. There are apparently a lot of J's in my music library. I started off with Janis Joplin this morning and now iTunes is only up to Juliana Hatfield's first album.
Week 2 of the cabbage soup "diet"--the only difference I've noticed is a lot of poo and the inability to eat very much for dinner. So why continue? I like the healthy feeling of lightness in the evening, though it doesn't stop me from craving the tastes of pizza, dumplings, french fries, and Ethiopian food. I ate dinner with friends on Friday night and realized I didn't need 3/4 of what I ate. Strange how your stomach can shrink in the span of a week and not need as much food as it used to think. Maybe I'll make a different kind of soup for next week. It all started with a big pot of T's mom's borscht--I ate it for dinner for a week and realized I don't need much more than that in the evenings.
Beastie Boys were great last night. I definitely suffered some hearing loss. It has been about 10 years since I've seen them and last time, I was squashed near the front of the stage trying to simultaneously avoid sweaty man-with-no-shirt armpits and moshers. Because I'm an old fart now, I sat up on the balconies to avoid the sweaty masses, get a better view (at 5'2" my line of vision is always of concern)), and observe everything from up high. I saw boobs, a fight (and security extract the guy), a topless crowd-surfing girl, and 4 simultaneous mosh pits--I didn't know people still moshed. And on my walk from the bus stop to the venue, I counted 3 hookers. Ahhh...the old neighborhood.
When I get home from a long day at work, I just want to be left alone. I don't want to teach English or explain myself. The difference between "educating" and "teaching"? "Due to" and "because of"? If I used the word nuance, I would have to explain that too. But I've been on all day and I'm just tired.
See? For those of you who don't believe me when I say it, I'd make a terrible mom. I need a lot of alone time and I'd want to slap the shit out of my kid at least 5 days out of the week.
I had a really good run yesterday. I didn't have time for one today, but I did have some good sushi. Yum!
- I stepped up to a Sasquatch today. Well, not really, but a woman (who STRONGLY resembled Jeff Daniels in Dumb & Dumber) was very rude to me at the supermarket, so I simply said "You don't have to be so rude. I wasn't trying to cut in front of you!" So she got said "EXCUSE ME?!!" and gave me the eye, which I gave to her in return. On her way out, she said something to me (but I don't know what because I'm really bad at reading lips) so I winked in return (which in retrospect, wasn't that effective, since half of my face scrunches up when I try to wink). Normally, I would just internalize it, especially since she was so gigantic, and think of an awesome comeback a few hours later. So even if it may have been stupid, I'm proud of myself for saying something.
- I saw two rats in the courtyard while jumping rope.
- I'm making a vegetable soup for the week--a half-assed attempt at the cabbage soup diet, which Sarah often talks about. Half-assed, because I'll just eat sensibly for breakfast and lunch and only eat the soup for dinner. There's no way I can have the energy to run while only eating fruits and vegetables for a week. I modified the recipe slightly by adding onions and zuchinni and ommitting bell peppers. I also used chicken stock instead of water. I was afraid there wouldn't be enough flavor, so I added an extra bouillion cube for good measure, but now it is a little TOO flavorful. I added the other half of the cabbage in hopes that the sweetness will tone down the flavor a little bit. Regardless, it is quite tasty, although it would be even tastier with some crusty bread and butter! Ah well, it will only be a week.
- We buried my aunt this weekend. Right next to my grandma and grandpa. This time, we buried her with our mourning rags...this is hopefully the last of it for a while. I've worn the same rag four times now. At Vietnamese funerals, white rags are tied around the head as a symbol of mourning. The way you tie it signifies your relation to the deceased, although no one in the family seems entirely clear on the protocol, so we make things up as we go along. For children and grandchildren, the band is tied like the karate kid. Great grandchildren tie saffron rags. Because my aunt had no direct descendants, only relatives, we all wrapped, rather than tied, the white rags around our heads.
- I also took the opportunity to ask Jack, the funeral director, about Six Feet Under. I just wanted to know if Alan Ball portrays the funeral business accurately to which he responded "eerily so."
Drinking with the cousins is always a lot of fun. I'm glad we're as close as we are--it is a tribute to the success my grandparents had nurturing a family. At the same time, I wonder how the larger family will fare now that the glue is gone...the last six years have been quite stressful for them...hopefully they can resolve their disputes.
I helped my mom clean out my grandparents' house yesterday. I folded my aunt's clothes to ready them for donation (she wore a lot of polyester). All these clothes were kept with the slim hope that she'd get better. Pants from before she got so sick and skinny. Pants we're giving away to complete strangers, strangers who will have no idea how great the woman who used to wear them truly was. She never had her own children but had a hand in raising all of us. I have much to be thankful to her for. And I'm thankful for the time we spent together while she was in the hospital, when I took her to her doctor's appointments during my unemployment, and when she was staying with my parents. I learned so much from her and about her. Despite being generations apart, we could still see eye to eye. She helped my parents understand me and let me be who I am rather than who they wanted me to be. We had a lot in common, down to our hatred of bananas. But I will never be as great as she was. She was devout, forgiving, kind, and selfless...combined with a great smile and incredible sense of humor, she had no enemies...only cancer. My grandma got sick right when I met J, but I'm glad he got to know my aunt and discover what a wonderful person she is...was. My grandma and aunt were similar people and I'm glad J got to know at least one of them.
I found a box of my grandma's pictures and spent a few hours looking through them with my cousin. There were pictures of my great grandma, pictures of grandma and grandpa in their youth, my mom, aunts, and uncles as children and young adults, my cousins and i through the years...many pictures I'd never seen before. My cousin and I had fun looking through them, identifying people, and laughing at our relatives in both their cute and awkward stages. I took a picture of my grandparents which I'll frame.
Looking around the empty house is sad. Since I was born, my grandparents have inhabited this tiny little one-room house next door to my uncle's house. We used to live down the street but then we moved less than a mile away when I was six. My family even lived here with them for a few months when our house was being remodeled. They had two twin beds set up in the living room and the bedroom was reserved for guests. Even though we only lived a mile away, I'd still sometimes sleep over there during the summers when my cousins were visiting. And as I've mentioned before, my first memory is in this house. Now that my aunt has moved out, what will become of this house? It's so sad how empty it is...unexpectedly more sad than when it was filled by two invalids and a cancer patient.
I think part of the reason this last death is so much more painful is that she was fully coherent until the moment she passed. For my grandparents, their time was long overdue. They'd lived full lives and had lived in a state of near-death for years. And even then, it was hard to let go. But my aunt, she still had so much left to give.
2004 hasn't been so good for my family. This is the fourth this year. My aunt passed away last night. I got a call from my cousin at 7:45pm telling me to come home. I was across town and had to go home to get my car and said I'd be down in an hour. I also couldn't find my keys, and by the time I made it down, she'd already passed. I was planning to visit her tomorrow...I saw her last Saturday and she was in good spirits and her handshake was strong, despite the fact that she was so skinny.
She died at home with my mom, my dad, another sister, her brother, and his wife. When I saw her I couldn't stop crying. She looked so peaceful...with a hint of a smile on her face even. And that's who she was. She had a great sense of humor and was always welcoming. She was the favorite of all the doctors and nurses when she stayed in the hospital. When she was healthy, she had MUNI drivers stopping the bus to help her with her groceries, despite not speaking any English. Her warmth and good humor transcended any language barriers. When I was a kid, she'd go camping with us in the summers. She always ate what I didn't like, promising never to tell my parents (with a wink). She had a good 70 years, but it was still too soon. She was an independent spirit who had an uncanny gift for understanding youth. She was always on my side.
I'm glad she went as fast as she did. After I stopped crying, I couldn't stop laughing (I always think absurd things in somber situations). When Jack (the funeral director that we know so well now) came to pick her up, I couldn't stop crying when they put her on the gurney, wrapped in plastic. I slept terribly last night. I think I was dehydrated from the baseball game earlier in the day. And my eyes hurt. One of my best friends left on his motorcycle this morning. I wish he didn't have to leave so soon.
I knew she was going to go soon, but I didn't expect it to happen so quickly. The cousins are coming over tonight for a BBQ. Funny how my apartment has turned into the post-funereal gathering spot.
I've been inexplicably cranky lately. The stupidest things will make my brows furrow. But laughing with friends, eating good food, and planning my trip provide as good distractions. A very good friend who I haven't seen in a while will be riding through town on his motorcycle for a short stay. And we plan to do one of my favorite things: drink and yell.
Last night, when we got home from dinner, there was a large van parallel parked in front of our apartment's garage. I needed to get out...and it seemed like the car had been there for at least an hour, so I satisfied the little old lady in me and called for the car to be towed. Someone else in the apartment had already beat me to it, but T & I still peeked through the blinds, watching the man with the truck tow the car away. We left the window open so we could hear the person come back and express their dismay at being towed...but like the little old ladies we were for the night, we went to sleep before anything good happened.
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