An English Awakening

I honestly believe that at some time in our lives, the humdrum of reality will make us languorous. I am finding myself ensconce in a world where responsibilities and tedium is a daily suffocation and yet I can find no exit from it. Scribbling on the walls of Sprinkles of Magical Sweetness is my sole evanescent from the drift of adulthood.


This is where my thoughts are genuine, real and alive - as far as words, phrases, lexicons, sentences allow me to express. A place where I do not have to display maturity, stoicism nor pull up my socks and buckle up my shoes. Unlike the world I inhabit it, this is where people do not recognise me by my face...I am associated with the chemerical, the fairytales, the lovestories, the anecdotes, and the words that people read.

It took me over a year to detached myself from England. I held on so desperately to the little bits and pieces of memories, photographs, souvenirs, texts, messages, e-mails and whatever article that has an inprint of Great Britain over it. Everytime I bump into something or someone that reminds me so much of England, my heart will whimper, "I know you". I will shuffle my feet nervously, be on the verge of choking up and beret myself for not being able to let go. Talking about England always brings a glow to my face. That nostalgic glow.

Though it is good to be back, I only wish it wasn't so soon.

I still remember vividly that one night in England with ML in my living room packing and unpacking our boxes, half of our belongings strewn all over and unable to decide what to discard, what to keep and what to give away. I tucked away some of the best things England had given me in the reccesses of my mind and flew home at the beginning of autumn, when the leaves were falling and if you kick up those leaves, the magic is gone.

I flew back to England for the last time, smack right into winter for Sarah & Mark's wedding, graduation, and to be called to the English Bar.  I have finally arrived at the end of the road of a long and winding holistic education. Plan Bee was kind enough to house me in the winter and kept me warm and well fed with his yummylicious family recipes when I was there. He was also sweet enough to take me out for a romantic candlelight dinner at our favourite Spanish Restaurant the night before I left and helped me packed my luggage. He spread out on my suitcase like a Starfish so I can close it and warned me not to open it again until I have arrived back home. All that was 15 months ago but snippets of it still play in my mind.


It was heartbreaking when Plan Bee and I stood out in the cold and hugged each other tight. "I will see you back home", he said. I held back tears and slide into my cab which took me to the Central Station and transported me out of Newcastle, forever. That was when I thought to myself, This is it. This is real. No more texts of "I will see you in Eldon Square in 5 minutes", no more "Let's go to Morrison", no more "I am waiting for the 39/40 bus lah", no more stupid snow, no more "Counter No. 5", no more...end of english stories.

I checked my phone for the last time at Paddington station before hoping onto the Heathrow Express with a heavy heart...O2 has served me well for the years I was there. My phone beeped and beeped with all the goodbyes text, wishes of farewell and safe journey, all the request to come back soon -  If I could be more dramatic, I would have broken down, wailed, sat by the railway track and pledge my soul to England.  

And so here I am now. In the vestibule of the past and the present. I have encapsuled a huge chunk of England and  I am burying it in my lavender field. I have done a pretty good job cleaning up all sense of familiarity and longing for that country. A place that has open up sights, experiences, memories and given me a horde of friends from all over the world. It has connected me and awaken my senses, my thoughts and taught me independence. To quote, I matured in England.

Now, I am moving again. I lied at the beginning of this story. I did find the exit from the daily humdrum but I am just wondering - is this exit for me to take? A story I will leave for some other day.

Tea and scones are waiting for me.

Thank you for loving me

Whenever I think about Rusell Peters and his skit on dad and spanking, I am reminded of my own asian parents upbringing where one half (thank God) believes in the saying, "spare the rod, spoil the child".

My parents (or rather my mother only) is an old-school authoritarian and is a firm believer of what the experts like to call, conditional parenting. When I was younger I was made to believe, so frightened by her "threats" of rotan (canning), that if I am bad, mummy will not love me.

I grew up in a well balanced household with a pretty permissive daddy who is often blackmailed to give in to my whimps and fancies and a disciplinarian mummy who often dooled or withheld awards unless I behave according to her wishes. If I had driven her crazy with my naughty antics the night before, I will arrive in school the next morning with sightly red lines on my legs.

Back then, children my age were never exposed to child abuse advertisements with a hotline number printed largely at the bottom of our tv screens so we can call the child abuse line if ever we find ourselves or our neighbours' children being abused.

Neither was my mother "uber-cool" like most american parents who discipline their young children by forcibly isolating them, a tactic we prefer to call “time out.” The only "time-out" I have gotten when I was a child was my parents allowing me to sit on supermarket floors and wail my heart out while they continue browsing through their shopping.

Although I have yet to arrive at parenthood, I realised that one of the most powerful currencies of a child is parent's acceptance and approval. Till today, in most of my life's choices and decisions, I still seek both Home Ministers' seal of approval before I proceed to launch my next course of action.

I chanced upon an article recently and studies have shown that "..conditional parenting proved damaging. Those mothers who, as children, sensed that they were loved only when they lived up to their parents’ expectations now felt less worthy as adults."

I don't really know what does that mean in deep psychological sense but my years of education has helped me decipher that my mother's conditional parenting skills to reinforce my obedience could have actually caused me to suffer long-term psychological harm. If my mother reads this now, I am sure she will vehemently deny that her love for me is unconditional and her defence would be along the lines of "...of course I love you as my evil child without any strings attached." But according to studies, what counts is how things look from the perspective of the children — whether they feel just as loved when they mess up or fall short.

Eventhough my parents set up 101 rules for me that I couldn't understand back then (and some which I still have not understood), they helped me understand that rationality and sensibility are subjective. By not consistently appealing to mine interest helped equipped me with the strategies needed to contend with moments of tedium or instances when other’s interests supersede mine. Without strategies for tedium, I would most likely give up when a problem is too hard and I feels bored and frustrated. Thanks to dad, I have learnt that when I do not get what I want at the first instance, all I have to do is threaten to pack my bags and move out to the tent in my garden until they buy me or give me whatever I want at that time. Thanks to my no-nonsense and conditional loving mum, I also learnt that after sweltering under the tent for 2 hours, I will eventually get bored, tired, hungry and move back into the house - and to be greeted with the Cane, even worse off from where I have started. Sorry, I lack a conniving mind when I was 8.

 

Now, I have a greater respect for the sacrifices my parents made for me. And I don't mean material sacrifices. I mean the emotional ones of denying me a car when I was a teenager because they knew I liked to go out and more often than not over do it in libations. I hated them at the time but now it's different. Now I have a context for the past. Now I realize that they made tough choices and placed themselves in the roles of villains because they were guarding my well being and nurturing my potential.

As my parents' child, I am dependent on them to make the decisions when I am unwilling to or unprepared to. Sometimes, I will them to to be that bad cop for my own greater good. Even if I may resent them for some period for making my life miserable but in the long run, its always turn out sunshiney.

 

I also believe the study conducted as according to that article could be flawed because:-

a.) its written by an ang mor and so what does he know about asian parenting?;

b.) how many asian specimens did they interview to come up with that results?;

c.) I grew up to be a well-rounded kid, albeit a little emo at times;

d.) Most asian kids who grew up without the coodling have achieved pretty awesome things themselves, like most of my peers; and

e.) my parents have seen the depths of my heart and they still love me the same, or in fact, even more.

 

So, thank you mum and dad for being such amazing parents. Now at my quarter life crisis year, I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

 
Well, thanks to my parents for investing their life savings in a whole array of Enid Blyton and Brittania Encyclopedia, I did not become a stripper. I truly appreciate the sacrifices they have made for me just so I can grow up to be the lawyer I wanted to be since I was 10. and since I saw that child abuse advertisement. now i can start drafting my statement of claim against you both, muahahahaha!

Quay Side in Newcastle

I miss sitting by the river bank and watching the world go by.

Things I miss about England - Part 2

Friends and the companionship of a multitude of international people. The familiar faces, the ringing of laughter, the voices, the warm embrace and the English air.

Miserably unfrench

I was there

I caught the musical Les Miserables when I was traipsing in London. I debated with the Astronomist for 10 whole minutes on how to pronounce this miserable french word before embarassing myself trying to buy two tickets for us at the counter.

Me: less miserable-less
He: it's Lee Mee Zeerab
Me: Huh? why so difficult wan..leh mah mee sedap serap?!!
He: You really need to dig your ear...not mee sedap or mee goreng la..its Meezerab. you've gotta say it quickly.
Me: I am freezing..SEE my teeth are clattering, (*clatter clatter clatter*) its' impairing my pronounsee-a-shawn
He: Its french. speak it like the french. they like to join all they syllabus together.
Me: I am Chinese. I will say it the Chinese way. Less Miss-a-rabbless
He: yeah..i miss your ramblings. *grins*
Me: I-diot. Now I am lost in translation..aiyo..just go watch la

At the ticket counter:
Me: Two tickets for Less Miserabless
Ticket guy: Wot''s dat, Love?
Me: Erm...the musical which is showing now.. that french one? *looks innocent*
Ticket guy: Wots the name, love?
He: *and when a hero comes along* Lay Mizerabh for two please.
Ticket guy: Ai, two tickets for Lay Mizerabh *grins at me*

It was quite an alright musical but I didn't like it as much as I enjoyed Lion King or Phantom of the Opera. Victor Hugo ( the man who wrote the novel) is an amazing writer who articulately piece together the nature of law and grace that evolve around life and it very much entails the centuries old of France history, architecture, culture, justice, religion and moral principles. A man who wrote in such great length of a convict, Jean Valjean and his journey through life and its bitterness. However, it was too much for me to comprehend it all. I must also be tone deaf as I didn't quite like all that singing. or maybe (a) I prefer masked man singing. or (b) maybe singing animals were a tad more interesting or..(c) just maybe, I wasn't french enough to understand the miserable-ness of it all..

Things I miss about England - Part 1

Friends

Freezing beaches

S Winter and Snow

Handsome Gorgeous Princes

Shopping and christmases

Naked man and castle evasions

Truth be told I miss you

I still experienced that nostalgic glow every time I chanced upon pictures of you and I. I don't mean to keep count but it has been over half a year since that last flight out, that last winter and that solemn goodbye. I guess this is partly a case of "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone", but also this is probably a knee jerk reaction to the trials and tribulations of adjusting to life without you. I guess it is natural to crave for the companionship as a sort of comfort blanket, when thrown in the maelstrom of life.

Having spent the months with you, I've found a number of unusual things I miss about you.

You know about the beer and the cheese (not that I particularly binge on them), then there are the usual suspects of pubs and fish and chips. Once I scratch the superficial surface I notice things that have really come to define what it means to live with you. Its not the blunder of trying to cook homely dishes that brings back warm memories but rather the trotting in the cold, clattering of teeth and freezing of butt just for a dinner night out. I miss those. Damn the cold but nothing beats doing the silly things in winter with you.

Remember looking out from the attic based bedroom and recognising people, the old man on his super charged mobility bike proudly sporting the England Flag (not that he'll need that anymore), the old woman and her daily fish and chips order around 10pm (lets face it, when you get to her age all notions of healthy eating must surely go out of the window - and if she wants to drink a bottle of sherry a night to go with it that's her affair [not that I've seen her with these, she conceals well]), kids being dropped off at school creating a fifteen minute traffic jam.

I miss being called 'love' and 'darling'.

The weekly pilgrimage to the all you can eat (but wished you hadn't) China Buffet!

Then there are the grocery shopping trips. I love them the most. I feel that I got to know you better during those trips. Jamming my trolley pack with English tea bags, Beanfeast packet veggie mince, Quorn, Marmite, Branston Pickle, Marks and Spencer bucks fizz, cheap supermarket wine and Twinnings Blackberry, Nettle herbal tea, Gallexy Chocolate, Yorkshire Tea.

Catching a glimpse of you in the mornings and the chills you give me in the winter when I slipped out of my duvet in my jammies to hit the shower. I miss the morning hearty breakfast I often took for granted.

Your unpredictability weather and arrogant accent. Cloudy in the morning and shinning in the noon - a temperament which I find to be erratic but uniquely you.

I miss the strolls in the park; basking in your ambient of serenity and the occasionally walks by the beach. I also cannot forget the long Sunday lunches.

The people you brought to my life who were simply sincere and genuine inside out. Friends who left their footprints in my life all because of you.

Truth be told my heart still holds you in a special place that I probably will regret leaving you on a Boeing-707...I will give the world to be back in England again.

Into His loving Arms

I was palavering with John (not the baptist) 2 nights ago about his life abroad. He told me how his first few months was the toughest for him and that eventually he started to adjust to fit himself in the circumstances that God has brought him to. Just like me, John is no stranger to living abroad having studied in England before but he still had his struggles, his moments and his trials.

When I first arrived in England , I struggled to understand the native English speakers, brace the harsh winters, wait for the public transport, and the whole enchilada of living on my own. I was out of my comfort zone and it was ferreting out the incognito Britain, all by myself. Sure, we had our group of friends but we were still on constant search for home in our English house. We frantically grapple to adjust to the howling winds and sub-zero temperatures, the funny English accent and above all else, the loneliness of living abroad. We go back to a house, not a home. An empty place, an empty house, a hole inside my heart. A place where we temporary reside for our year (s) there. Even with our close-knit of friends and arrangement of weekly get together, in our hearts, in the depths of our emotions, we miss the familiarity of smiling faces, jokes, conversations, a heart-to-heart talk, family, friends and the aroma of our favourite dish. No matter how great the recipe is, the taste is never just right. No matter how heated the place is, the warmth is missing.

We are so caught up in the expectations and the whirlwind of life around us that we forget to really look at the conditions of our heart. If you want to see something in your life that you have not seen before, you have to do something that you have never done before. For me, that was living all by myself. Getting things all done by myself and waking up alone in my house, cooking in an empty place and eating in front of the tv..all alone. My heart cried out silently every moment I felt alone. I never felt so empty and for once I saw how blessed I was back home. It is alone when we are away, when we lose something that we learn how to appreciate it. It is also at that moment that we try, to find in every nook and cranny and in every way possible, to get it back, be it a person, a thing, a feeling or even God.

Its like my Prawn Mee affair. I always had Prawn Mee at my beck and call everytime I felt like eating it. I took it for granted because I know it was always there. Just a 15 mins drive away or even a phone call away. So I neglected my Prawn Mee for more glorious food. Marinated duck in tangerine sauce, Creme Brulee, Puddings, Shepherd's Pie...not just food, but heavenly food. Until I went to England of course. I was craving for Prawn Mee 2 weeks upon arrival on English land. Like a insatiable craving where I would imagine having Prawn Mee in the midst of my meals and I would lie in bed praying for God to send someone to set up a Prawn Mee stall. China Town has never heard of Prawn Mee and I searched...far and wide...No prawn mee to my despair. Mark and Spencers did an excellent job of emptying my bank account monthly with their M & S food but it could...it can NEVER replace my love for Prawn Mee.

It make sense. What we have, we take for granted. Just like God's grace and God's goodness, we neglect it and sometimes, we abuse it. He gives us the freedom to make choices because the love He has for us, was not forced on us but given to us abundantly. An Agape Love. He ask for us nothing in return but yet, look at the depths of our hearts. the mustard seed of faith that we cannot even plant in Him and we dare pray for rewards double the size of that seed.

When thrown in the wild, when in tribulations and trials..we need to seek for Him and not moan of why He puts us in that position. Seek His kingdom first and all shall be given. In the dark, search for that light. In loneliness, seek for His companionship. In despair, seek for His comfort. In confusion, seek for His wisdom.

John taught me something that night in our chatroom. Sometimes God throw us a little further from our comfort zone so we can learn to come back to Him. To know that all the fast and ferocity of the world can never replace His love for you.

Come back to His loving Arms.