The World of Angy Wong

I went to Mexico in April with two of my best friends, Grace and Tracy. We had a fabulous time and this was the list we made up of the most memorable moments of that week:

1. “Computer Guy” dancing sexy after Mexican Michael Jackson show on the second night we were there. Grace has the last 5 seconds of it on film.
2. Raoul… specifically, Raoul taking his shirt off.
3. Tracy hitting her head on the headboard hard after she declared, “I’m tired. I’m going back to sleep…BAM!”
4. Tracy not noticing someone took Angela’s chair at Xel-Ha’s breakfast buffet even though the chair was right in front of her and she was supposed to be “watching” our stuff.
5. Tracy thinking the fire alarm was a clock after 2 days of being in our hotel room and saying there was no working clock in the room.
6. Tracy and Grace peeing in the ocean –> Tracy’s first time ever! We were so proud…
7. Tracy taking 4 Mexican “immodiums” within 8 hours of buying them.
8. Angela getting 33 mosquito bites on her leg within arriving for only 2 hours at the resort.
9. Grace confusing the someone else for the tour guide, then followed him and led us and a bunch of several other tourists to the wrong bus.
10. Xel-Ha! Angy and Grace abandoning their tubes and Angy threw-up because of the heat stroke she was getting while sitting uncomfortably on that damn tube.
11. Napping at Hammock Island at Xel-Ha. (refer to picture below)
12. Watching the last Canucks game of the season in Playa del Carm at the Tequila barrel restaurant. Canucks defeated the Avalanche 1-0!
13. Tracy and Grace getting sick for the last half of the trip. We stayed close to the washroom.
14. Tracy’s oozing ankle which turned the pillow orange.
15. Grace’s sunburnt shoulder and Tracy hitting in a lot even though in her defense, she “couldn’t help it.”
16. Tracy sporting 2 pairs of white linen pants which symbolizes that she’ll probably marry a guy with linen pants who owns a yacht.
17. “Ooot-Ooot!” – Mexican host at Sandos Caracol.
18. Aaron’s worrisomeness and leaving a message at the hotel and still wanting to call the Canadian embassy.
19. Tracy ripping off the concession guy at the airport when her sandwich cost 5 dollars but she gave him only 4 and then walked away saying, “4 dollars, okay?”

It was a GREAT trip and I think for myself, the best part (besides all our laughing and gossiping) was when we were in the Brazilian restaurant and we saw several families that obviously travelled to Mexico together. I asked Grace and Tracy if she could see our future families doing that in the future, and they both replied “yes” and it would be fun if our families did something similar. That warmed my heart and made me smile because it reconfirmed for me how deep our friendship really is and that it’s one that will last a lifetime.

I recently came across a blog that seemed to emphasize that the foundation of the blogger’s happiness is based on her net-worth. It also appears that her whole family has the same mentality though they did attempt to mask that superficial reasoning with the fact that it’s due to their positive thinking that have led them to have a great net-worth which in turn made them happy. Yet, I have a feeling that if they did not think so highly of their monetary value, they would not be as “happy” as they are. One of them even called his wife’s siblings “mediocre” on the basis that they do not have a substantial net-worth.

Reading the entry, I felt infuriated as I could see myself being categorized as “mediocre” in their eyes. Yet, I try to tell myself that their opinions really do not matter as I barely know them. This led to me thinking about the basis of how I value myself? How do I measure myself self-worth? What are the factors that make me feel like I’m a happy and fulfilled person? Is it money? Material goods? Friends? Love? Respect from others?

I think when it comes down to it, I value myself because I know that I’m a good person. I try to do what’s right in terms of my relationships with my friends and family.  I am extremely protective of my family and friends and I constantly work hard to maintain these relationships. Ultimately, my joys are only realized when people I care about can share in on them.

I also want to better the world and contribute to society. I do not dream of being a self-made millionaire nor do I want to be a person that places too much value on material items. Depending on money or things to make you happy is a recipe for disaster because there’s always going to be a part of you that is not quite fulfilled. There will always be newer items, more expensive things, and before you know it, you’re caught up with always wanting more. I make a conscious decision to not fall into that mindset because I do not want to live a life where I know I’m not entirely happy with life because there is still a lot more I can acquire. I want to know that when I die, I spent my time making a difference in people’s lives especially those who are less fortunate than I am rather than focusing on acquiring a net-worth and deluding myself that money is all that really matters and is the only factor in measuring success. Perhaps I’m idealistic and I haven’t suffered enough poverty, but from my own life experiences, I learnd early on that yes, money can help make a situation better but money does not necessarily make a person feel fulfilled.

… no matter how hard I try, it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough and I’m left feeling disappointed in nobody more so than myself.

I’ve been going through a quarter-life crisis recently. It began when my 16-year-old brother asked me what requirements he needed for admission into the Faculty of Science at UBC. Then, I found out that he will be learning to drive and the goal is to get his license in three months time. That’s when I knew I was getting old. I’ve always associated my brothers as being forever young but to know that one of them is approaching the age of legality made me feel like an old woman.

I should have seen it coming though. I mean, all the girls on Top Model are usually at least four years younger than me – even though they look about five years older. So, what has gotten me so frazzled about being in my mid-twenties?

I’m not entirely sure what I want to do with my life. When I was younger, I had always thought I would do something great with my life. I had a destiny and I was meant to help people, though I never figured out through what means. Now, the ideals are fading and I’m left feeling rather confused and lost about what I want.

Grad School? Research? Work? Government? Travel?

I really don’t know at this point. I can barely figure out what restaurant I want to patronize let alone what I want to do with my life. What’s the solution then? That I don’t know as well. Perhaps I’ll take Stewart’s advice and just begin to write – maybe then something will come to me even if it’s just that my writing sucks.

The hormones must be running rampant in me as the littlest things have caused me to feel waves of illogical emotions in the past few days.

Case #1: My boyfriend and I had dinner at Banana Leaf on Friday night. I had been looking forward to a nice evening out for a while so I chose Banana Leaf because the last few times I went there, the food was sublime but it often took its time getting to my table. Thus, I thought it meant we would have a couple of hours to enjoy our evening out. For some reason our food came exceptionally fast despite us ordering the 7 course sampler meal. We were in and out of there within an hour and before it even registered in my mind, we were back at his place playing board games with his roommates. It wasn’t until I was already in bed that I felt quite despondent over the disappointment of my evening ending early. Normally, it wouldn’t have bugged me but perhaps all that hairspray I used while prettying myself up for the night seeped into my brain and made me feel excessively disconsolate over such a minor matter.

Case #2: Yesterday, in an attempt to make my boyfriend happy and also wanting to see some friends I haven’t seen in a while, I played Dungeons and Dragons for the first time. D&D is a game that makes Aaron and some of my dear friends ridiculously giddy. So, I thought I’d give it a try despite my initial reservations. The role-playing game requires me to act as if I was the character that I created, which means talking as if I was that person. I was already feeling nervous about the whole thing since I had no idea on how to simply “talk”. Unlike some of the other newbies who fell right into the game, it took me awhile to feel comfortable with role-playing. In all honesty, I didn’t think my character was significant nor did her comments matter. Just when I started getting a little more comfortable, my boyfriend’s roommate made one little comment that pretty much killed the game for me. Our party had met a person in town and my sweet boyfriend, who was trying to give me a chance to get more involved, suggested that my character converse with that person. His roommate however said, “Look, your bluff skills may be a 9 but mine is a 13 so I’ll do the talking around here.” For a game that I felt no particular interest in nor received much satisfaction from, that little comment made me feel like such crap. So, instead of attempting to become more active in the game, I decided that I would promptly leave in an hour and vow to not try it again, but I did kick some major centaurian ass before I left.

Case #3: I love radish cake and Teresa’s mom makes the best radish cake in the world – well, at least in my world. So, last night when I was over at Teresa’s place, her mom gave me some radish cake to take home. Despite being full from dinner, I was rather excited. She gave me a fairly big portion and I knew I could stretch it out over the span of two days. When I got home, I had a small piece for myself and stashed the rest of it in the fridge. This morning, I woke up excited to have some delicious pan-fried radish cake for breakfast (and yes, I know it’s probably not the healthiest thing). I searched for it in the fridge for about five minutes before I realized the worst had happened. On my way out the door to work, I asked my dad if he had seen the radish cake. He told me that he thought my mom had bought it a week ago even though she claimed she didn’t. Nonetheless, they thought it was going to go bad so they cooked it all late last night and ate it. I was livid because this isn’t the first time something like this happened. He didn’t think it was a big deal and thought that he was doing me a favour since according to him, “it wasn’t that good and he had to force himself to eat it.” That broke the camel’s back for me and when he dropped me off at the bus stop to go to work, I slammed the car door without a “goodbye” or “thank you”. The entire way to work, I was caught between feeling extremely angry at them for eating what’s not theirs (which they didn’t even appreciate) and feeling sad that the thing I was looking forward to for the next couple of days was taken away from me without my knowledge.

So, within the past three days, a pleasant dinner at a great restaurant, a comment about a game that I didn’t care for and some radish cake that I probably shouldn’t even eat while on my current diet have all caused me to feel a wave of irrational emotions ranging from deep sadness to extreme anger. I hope my period comes soon because I can’t deal with getting upset over such minor matters for much longer.

Three summers ago, I finally got to see the world or at least a small part of it. Up until May 2006, the farthest I’ve been was Las Vegas, but at the age of 10, Vegas does not leave much of an impression. Growing up the way I did, there was nothing more I wanted than to leave. I wanted to see the world and feel like I was a part of something greater than just the miserable situation in our three bedroom home that felt like it was getting smaller each day.

So, the opportunity arose and I grabbed it with both hands. I decided to study Chinese in Beijing for a month, and then travel around China for another month. I recall feeling exhilarated when the plane took off from Vancouver Airport and it was probably that particular moment that ignited my love for flying. When I arrived in Beijing and settled into a routine of studying Chinese every day and having a little fun on the weekends, I really enjoyed it. I realized how easy it was to start a new routine and accept a new reality. Yet, I wasn’t going to let go of my life in Vancouver completely. I missed my friends terribly and sent emails updating them on my time in China. I think it was then that I realized that friends are incredibly fluid.

The emails I received were not usually from friends who I was in constant contact with, but were from people I may not have heard from in months and even years. It was those distant friends who took the time to email me to let me know that they enjoyed reading my emails and then proceeded to inform me on what they have been up to in their lives. It was a strange and painful revelation to learn that those who I expected had the 5-10 minutes to email me apparently could not bother to do so, yet, the ones I have not even thought about in a long while was able spare me those minutes.

I think the problem was also that I cared a lot about my friends to the point that maybe I cared too much. I was the type that would go out of my way to throw a party so people could get together; disregarded the price of a gift if I knew the recipient would love it; and would sacrifice a lot of my time and energy in order to cheer up a friend if she or he was down. I did all that because that’s how much my friends meant to me and I thought I meant just as much to them. Yet, the lack of contact I received from my close friends in Vancouver while abroad changed my perspective on my friendships and I recognized that friendships are very fluid. Friends often come and go and throw in the factor of distance, more than likely, friends are often gone. Friends are rarely like family. Friends are great for enjoying a moment, sharing some laughs, and having fun but they don’t work as well with distance. When distance is added to the mix, more work is required to keep the friendship going. The sad reality is people aren’t willing to invest a lot of time in keeping a long-distance friendship going.

Unlike family, there’s no obligation weighing on a person’s conscience to keep in constant contact. After all, friends are great for understanding that sometimes people are so busy in their lives that it’s forgivable if one does not email or call for weeks on end. That’s the beauty of friends – they have to be understanding because ultimately, the obligation to a friend is too weak to cause guilt or remorse for the one who is simply too “busy” or “tired” to reply to a letter, phone call or email.

I do not hold any resentment towards my friends and if I do, I try really hard not to. I understand that people have different obligations and priorities, and many times, I’m not as high on their list as they may be on mine. By no means am I bitter and I actually am glad that I experienced what I did in Beijing because it made me realize that perhaps I should focus my energy on myself. I’ve learned to depend less on my friends for companionship and comfort, and have come to love my independence and the ability to simply enjoy my solitude. I’ve also learned that the best friendships are those that you can smile back on years later. Even if the greatest friends are gone and contact is completely lost, instead of resenting them or myself for losing touch, I will remember them for the laughters and joys we shared in those fleeting moments so long ago.

Generally, I am against violence of all kinds. Most of the time, I cannot even watch films with too much violence as it usually results in me plugging my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. My disdain for violence is a combination of my own fear of physical pain, my belief that there has to be another way to resolve a dispute, and being too empathetic to the point that I would envision myself as the one receiving the harm when I watch it being afflicted on others. There have been many times where I would grab my arm, chest, leg, etc. because those were the areas that were being mutilated on screen. Yes, I try to avoid violence of all kinds and when someone asks, “what would I do when placed in a dangerous situation such as those depicted on television?” I always answer, “I would run and hide.”

Despite being against violence, there are rare moments when I do fantasize about beating someone to a pulp. More specifically, beating a male between the ages of 17-30 who also happens to be your typical ignorant, red neck, rude, crude, chauvinistic male who feels a sense of entitlement that is not deserved. This desire to cause as much physical pain as I can to a person was triggered by two bus rides a couple of weeks ago.

The first instance was two Thrusdays ago when I was taking the #135 bus home. I was coming home from work and visiting my sister at Mexx. I was tired. It was freezing cold. All I wanted to do was to get back to my nice warm house. I get on the bus and sit in the seat directly in front of the back doors (since it was the shortest distance to the door) and as I was sitting contently and listening to my mp3 player, two teenagers who could not be older than 17 walk past me and shout in my face obnoxiously, “do you believe in pirates?!” They laughed and walked to the back of the bus. I said nothing and wanted to avoid these imbeciles as they were clearly stoned and drunk off their minds.

Well, the whole time on the bus ride, they were loud and obnoxious and people kept turning back to stare at them. I tried to ignore them but once again, they were right in front of me, waiting to get off the bus. The whole time while they stood in front of me I thought about what I would do if they tried to attack me. I knew that there were quite a few big men sitting near me and that they would more than likely defend me but I think I would want the satisfaction of defending myself. I imagined kicking them in balls and as they bend over in pain, I would knee them in the chin. Once they’ve fallen to the ground, I would kick them until I had no energy left while they apologized profusely and begged me to stop. So for the twenty minutes until those two guys got off the bus, I spent my time thinking of scenarios that declared me the victor in an onslaught in which they never stood a chance of winning.

A week later, I found myself fantasizing about the same scenario while bussing all the way to Fort Langley to surprise my boyfriend. It was a three hour trip and I had to take the skytrain from Burrard Station all the way to Surrey Central to catch a bus. I rationalized that since I was going to be on the train longer than most people, I deserved a seat though I didn’t get one until Metrowtown Station. Once we stopped at that particular station, I immediately rushed for a vacant seat and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot. I apologized before sitting down. The guy who’s foot I stepped on looked like he was in his late 20s, had a overgrown goatee and was dressed in jeans, oversized boots and a tan bomber jacket. He ended up sitting in front of me with his friend who looked equally as dirty. He turned back and said, “Bitch, don’t push.” He then proceeded to talk loudly to his friends about “bitches” on buses.

I ignored his comment by appearing as if I was too engaged in my book to care about what he had to say, but as soon as he said those words, my fantasies of afflicting violence came back. The whole time while watching the back of his head, I thought about hitting him in the head with one of my 2L bottles of soda, while swinging at his crotch with my other bottle. I imagined what it would be like to kick and punch him while screaming, “I apologized! I’ve been bussing for two hours and have three bags in my hands and I deserved this seat! I’m not bitch, you ass!” The fantasies were satisfying in a way even though I knew I could never commit such heinous actions.

Even though I had spent 20-30 minutes daydreaming what it would be like to pummel the man in front of me, I also spent part of the time hoping that he would not get off at the same stop as I because I did not want him to give me any sort of evil glare or make any more snide comments. I knew that if he did, I would say nothing and simply go a different direction as him – and this fact brought me back to reality and made me feel rather pathetic and cowardly. It’s one thing thinking of defending myself, it’s another knowing that the chances of me doing so is slim to none.

I think my thoughts of afflicting violence on men might be a result of feeling physically powerless especially if I were attacked. I’m not a strong woman and definitely not the fittest either. If someone came after me, I know I would put a fight but it probably wouldn’t be a good one – and this gets to me. It bothers me that guys like those I encountered on the bus are able to spew profanities at me, and all I do in return is try to keep quiet in order to avoid more trouble. I wish I was one of those girls that would not take their insults so lightly and retaliate even just a bit. Yet, my fear of potential confrontations that may escalate into physical bouts gets the better of me. Perhaps once my New Year’s resolution of getting in shape is completed, my perspective on the whole beating-up-rude-strangers-on-the-bus and feeling weak will change, though I have a feeling that I may still get some satisfaction from just the mere idea of kicking someone in the nuts for being unceremoniously rude to me.

It has been snowing quite a bit in Vancouver, and as pretty as snow may be, I merely think of it as an inconvenience. I’m probably frustrated with the snow because I still have two more days of work before my winter break, and that means I will be one of many people who will be grumbling all the way to work, all throughout the work day, and all the way home from work. I cannot wait until Christmas Eve, which will be Day 1 of my vacation. Unfortunately, I have to cook dinner for a group of 14 so it’ll just be more work on my part.

Perhaps that was a bit harsh as it’s not an unfortunate thing. Every year since I was in 10th grade, I have thrown an annual Christmas Party for my friends and immediate family, and I loved them for the most part. I grew up watching a lot of western television that emphasized the festivities that surround Christmas and I wanted to recreate that for myself. I wanted the tree, the turkey, the friends and family to all gather around and enjoy this day. Christmas was never about Christ for me, but it was the one day out of the year that we could celebrate the idea of family, friends, love, and appreciation for one another. It may have been that because my family is emotionally reserved, Christmas was never celebrated and so I wanted it to be for myself and for my siblings. I desperately wanted what I saw on television and thus, when I was old enough to really learn how to cook, I began holding Christmas Parties for my family as well as my friends.

A major reason why I hosted annual Christmas Parties was my friends. Many of them shared similar experiences as me – we were second generation Asian Canadians with parents that did not really know or care for Christmas until they immigrated here and gave birth to us. Thus, to keep up with mainstream customs, they would buy the tree, might even pick up some presents but ultimately, the end result never came close to what we felt Christmas should be. So, as an attempt to create what I thought makes Christmas “special”, I hosted dinners,I put up the tree, I cooked the turkey and all the fixings, I gave out presents when I had the monetary means, and I invited all my close friends over for one night of “Christmas”. Many of my parties have been fun; many have been extremely stressful; and a couple have left me wishing I hadn’t bother with it. Yet, at the end of the day, I was happy hosting the parties because I was convinced that I was the glue that kept us all together. I was the reason why all of us can come together for one day of the year, catch up with another, and rekindle bonds that may not have been so strong recently. I love my friends and I wanted my dinners to be my present to them – a night of good food and good company.

I think this year, however, it might be my last Christmas dinner. I think all of us are reaching this age where change is coming faster than we can imagine and my dinners have become rather trivial compared to what’s going in everyone’s lives. My friends are moving forward and it’s more than likely that means we’re also moving farther apart from one another. I think I just have to face the fact that I am not the glue (and perhaps I never was), and no amount of turkey or Christmas decorations could bring us all together when people have other obligations that are much stronger than the one to mine. I just have to come to terms with that, and I think I already have. So, for my last Christmas dinner, I just hope the turkey doesn’t burn, the snow stops falling (so people can get here), we enjoy each other’s company, and make some memorable memories for one last time.

When I was a child, I loved attending wedding banquets. I was always in awe of the bride who adorned such beautiful dresses, the opulent decor, and especially the food that was served. A Chinese wedding banquet dinner consisted of 8 to 10 courses that represented the best of Chinese culinary arts. The first course was usually a delicious assorted cold plate platter followed by prawn paste wrapped around a crab claw. There would also be lobster, broccoli with sea cucumber, crispy chicken, and the lucky “yee mein”. My favorite course, however, was shark fin soup.

I loved shark fin soup and it was the dish that I looked forward to the most at these wedding banquets. The thickness of the broth, its aromatic flavour with dried scallop, and the rarity of experiencing such an expensive dish meant I purposely took my time when it came to consuming the soup – slowly savouring every spoonful and not realizing that every spoonful was a crime in itself.

As a child, my only thoughts on sharks were that they were scary and would eat me given the opportunity. Thus, why should I care that I’m eating them? It’s better them than me that’s getting ingested. Yet, as I grew older, my opinions were no longer so black and white. The first time I felt ashamed for enjoying shark fin soup was in 11th grade when a classmate explained to me how sharks were finned in explicit details. He told me about how fishermen would capture the shark, bring it on board, cut the fins off, and dump the rest of the shark back into the water. The shark, which is still alive, sinks to the bottom of the ocean and suffers an inhumane and in a way, a humiliating death. After he finished his story, he warned me not to eat any shark fin soup and I brushed him off since I was never the one who ordered the shark fin soup at wedding banquets or fancy dinners with my family. If everyone else wanted it and the shark fin soup has already been prepared, what can I really do for the shark that was in my dinner bowl?

Despite this naive and somewhat irresponsible mentality, the chance of consuming shark fin soup became rarer and I was secretly glad about it. My brother went through a shark obsession and despised the brutality that humans committed on sharks, which had a deeper influence on me in making an active decision to not consume shark fin soup. It was not until last night after watching Planet in Peril, which did a segment on shark finning, that I’ve decided to not only never consume shark fin soup again, but I will make it point to tell others that they should not do the same. Hearing about the inhumane methods of shark finners were one thing, but seeing it is a completely different experience.

Witnessing the fishermen slicing the fins off the struggling shark and then pushing the finless shark back into the ocean, so it can sink to the bottom to suffer a slow and painful death brought tears to my eyes. I just could not fathom how someone can treat another living thing with such cruelty. After watching the segment on shark finning, I looked for more information on shark finning and this is what I found:

• Shark specialists estimate that up to 100 million sharks are killed annually (and often illegally) for just their fins.
• Any shark is taken regardless of size, age, or species.
• Shark finning has increased dramatically over the last 10 years as a result of higher demand, improved fishing technology and improved market economics.
• Loss of sharks threatens the stability of marine ecosystems.
• The demand for shark fins mainly comes from Asia which want it for shark fin soup and traditional cures.

There are quite a few conservation programs and non-profit groups trying to reduce global threats to shark populations and promote greater awareness on the plight of the sharks. For those who are not affiliated with these organization but want to be active, I encourage you to not consume any shark fin soup or shark fin remedies, and also to discuss shark finning with people. As long as we talk about, it will garner greater awareness which may translate into fewer consumption of shark fin and thus, less demand for it.

Here are a few websites to check out for more information:

www.wildaid.org

www.sharktrust.org

www.seashepherd.org

www.sharkwater.com

Let’s stop shark finning now!