The World of Angy Wong

Happy Lunar New Year!

Breakfast

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.

I just finished reading Atonement by Ian McEwan today and it was nothing short of brilliant, which is surprising since I found the novel difficult to get through in the beginning.

Generally, I’m a reader that prefers dialogue over descriptions. I’d rather read about the words that are exchanged between characters as opposed to the characters’ observations on their own surroundings and perceptions of the world before them. In a way, that makes me a rather lazy reader as I often skim through long passages of descriptive text in order to get to the verbal interaction between the major players. A quarter of the way into Atonement, I realized that my usual method of reading a novel would not apply with this particular book. Instead of giving up on it, I decided to take my time with the novel and slow my pace. In doing so, I discovered not only an amazing novel that is beautifully written but gained a different perspective on human self-awareness and understanding.

The story is told through the perspectives of three main characters: Cecilia Tallis, the eldest daughter who had just recently returned home from Cambridge; Robbie Turner, the Tallis’ charwoman’s son who had grown up with Cecilia and her older brother Leon, and also recently returned from Cambridge; and Briony Tallis, the 13-year-old sister of Cecilia and Leon. The plot revolves around Briony’s witnessing of a flirtatious moment between Cecilia and Robbie by the fountain. Lacking maturity and understanding of the implications behind sexual interactions amongst adults, she imagines her own reality in which Robbie is the villain, Cecilia is the victim and Briony assumes the role of protector. During the search for her missing mischievous twin cousins, Briony stumbles upon the rape of her 14-year-old cousin, Lola. Only seeing the shape of the attacker, Briony is convinced that it was Robbie and accuses him. What unfolds from her deceitful words is three lives that are forever changed – all wishing to undo the past and redeem themselves in the process.

The brilliance behind McEwan’s novel is definitely his use of psychological realism. The internal conflicts within each character is described so vividly that one could feel Cecilia’s anguish of losing her chance at happiness; Robbie’s struggle to keep his sanity in an environment that merely promotes the destruction of humanity; and Briony’s search for atonement for her actions which have condemned three lives to no real possible chance of redemption. McEwan’s mastery of prose and his depiction of the consequences of having an internal reality manifests into the physical world truly makes this novel a literary accomplishment.

Quiescent

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.

Lift Me Up

A Green Paradise

Delicious… ?