The Heart of a Man

This has nothing to do with NATURE, it’s all, nurture, or, socialization, if you want to see it as that, translated…

“It’s not that Men Don’t Cry/It’s that We Hid Ourselves Away When We Cried/We’d Rather Stand on Bended Knees Than to Smile and Kneel/Men are Also Like Flowers/ Feared the Raging Wind & Rain/Who Can See the Scars Behind Our Forced Strengths………”, a short while ago, this song played on the radio, and it’d, moved me, the singer had a raspy, low voice, but, he’d sung out the hearts of men.

illustration from the papers online…圖/Swawa

A lot of men since they were growing up were taught “Boys don’t Cry”, which caused them to NOT relieve themselves through their tears when they’re in pain. Like that time I’d watched my husband as he worked hard, held back his tears, how I’d, wanted to tell him, “Hon, just cry it out!”

Recalling how when I just had my son, how he’d cried so very hard, the nurse smiled and told me, “hmmmmmmmmmmmm, such a healthy boy!”, I cried out of joy in the bed. My son’s tears were, the show of the strength of life, and my tears were from being touched as a witness to how strong life can be.

During the time when he was still quite young, not knowing how to speak, he’d cried the various cries to let me know if he’d needed to be fed, if he was wet, or if he just, wanted to cuddle. Once he had a fever, he’d not gotten fussy, just fell silent, and I’d worried through the night. As he got older, he’d learned to walk and run, and tripped and hurt himself, when he’d felt defeated in school or at work, I’d used my warm smile, to wipe away this boy’s tears.

Darwin said once, that crying is a special form of expressions that humans have. That tears are a natural born emotional expression for us humans, that it’s not a specialty for women, nor should it be interpreted as a man being weak.

It’s just, that we’re all, bound by the traditional belief, as boys became men, they’d swallowed everything hard in life down, not used to talking about their problems, didn’t know how to find an outlet, and, as the trials of life and the pressures accumulated, they’d not just put themselves in trial, also their families too.

As a mother, it was, easy for me to know what my little man was feeling; as a wife, it’d become, quite difficult, for me to help get inside of the man I loved, as he was experiencing his emotions.

He’s just like that book by the Japanese M.D.’s character, Mr. B, never shared anything that’s going on in his life or work with his own wife, and had often, sat dumbfounded in front of the television. As his wife inquired, he’d blurted, “It’s not like you can understand”, which severed off ALL forms of communication between him and his own wife.

I’d once openly spoken of my displease or worries over my husband, he’d worked hard, to tell me what he was going through too, and yet, it’s like, there’s, still this, huge MOUNTAIN that blocked us, or perhaps, it wasn’t in his nature to rant, and in the end, he’d, stared at the television in the late night hours on his own. Because the thoughts of wanting to exchange with him how I felt kept echoing, but he just, shuts down completely. If he’s willing to open up, I’ll, lend a helping ear; and if he doesn’t, I’ll just, quietly, accompany him.

People often say, that “women are like flowers, needed the love and care”, but aren’t men so too? A different species of flower, with a varied growth environment, with their different needs, we’d just need to, follow the nature way of things, and, eventually, all things wither away, there’s no need to force anything.

As I saw him, frowning, with that lost look on his face, I’d known, that he’s, healing himself up, and I’d not intruded into his personal space, learned to give him the space and quiet he’d needed. That day, I’d not said anything, just, handed him a box of tissues, and a cup of tea, and like I always had, I’d, hugged him, to show, that I’m, there for him.

And so, this, is strictly, DUE to SOCIALIZATION, men and women are socialized to value different things, and that, is what’s caused these macho behaviors in a lot of men, and like the husband of this woman, he just, doesn’t open up, but thankfully, his wife knew him well, and knew, that he just needed the time, to sort things through on his own, so, she just, quietly, accompanies by his side.

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He’d Switched Tracks, from the Law Department, He’d Become the Music Major Department’s Dean

Now, they’re, studying for the sake of love, instead of just, getting that degree, from the Newspapers, translated…

Are the music department, saved for those who’d studied music from their high school years? The dean of Pingdong University’s Music Department, Lien WAS a law student from N.T.U., later on he’d switched tracks, and entered onto the road to music; the digital music professor, Hsiao wasn’t a music major either, he’d graduated from the National University of Education’s psychology department, then, turned toward his interests, music, and that just showed, that even IF you didn’t have any prior trainings in the field, you still have a chance, to become a huge success in the field.

from online…

Lien said, he’d grown up around music, he’d taken lessons in violin and piano as a child, but, he’d not taken the music route, and, he’d signed on for the law department of N.T.U. as he’d filled out his major and school selection, he’d graduated from graduate school in law, but he just, couldn’t, be a lawyer. Later he’d gone to France’s Sorbon University to study music for ELEVEN whole years, and majored in composing and musicology.

He’d said, that using his fundamentals of learning music, taking the piano lessons, the violin lessons, there was, NO way he could’ve gotten past the entrance exams, but he’d always wanted to go into depth of the study of music, and so, he’d emphasized in musicology, music analysis.

Hsiao started taking piano lessons at the age of four, he’d gotten into the psychology department at the University of Education, for the sake of being closer to the music department, and all the auditable courses in the music department offered by the school, he’d gone; although he wasn’t a music major, but he was blessed, to be on this road, and now, every minute of his life is involved in music.

查看來源圖片working hard, to compose a piece…photo from online…

And so, this just showed, how if you’re interested in something, no matter if you were in the related majors, you can work hard, and reach your goals just the same.

Chance Will Come When You Face Up to the Trials in Your Lives

Someone who’d, shown him that, there’s, an alternative way of interpreting things, and this man took the school officials advice, translated…

It was the Dragon Boat festivals of 1997, I’d stayed behind in the troops to keep the grounds, it was raining cats and dogs, and my superiors wanted me to conduct a check of the troops, but because the rain had, obstructed my view, I’d accidentally had a car crash. As I returned to the base, the superior only asked me how the check went, not shown ANY concerns for my injuries at all, it’d, turned my heart cold, and I’d, seen the notices of hiring for the disciplinary officers at schools, and, I’d, taken the test for it.

After the job trainings were finished, I was sent to a public high school in Hsinbei City, for the very first time in my life, I’d stood outside the school, directing the traffic, watched the students as they came in and out of the gates of the schools, I’d felt, out of place so suddenly, and, I was, overwhelmed with an intense sort of loss and sorrow. Ahhhhhh, with my trainings, I couldn’t put what I’d learned to good use, and I’d, had to, direct the traffic flows outside of a school?

At which time, the man in charge of student affairs saw my unsettled heart, he’d said to me, “As your children got out from school, there were the volunteer dads, helping them cross the streets safely, why couldn’t you just, lower yourself, and be a safety guard dad?” His words made me reexamine the duties and the responsibilities of my position in the schools, and I’d not seen it as my way of escaping the armed services anymore.

The difficulties of my service career was upsetting to me, but, as I’d transitioned to work as a disciplinary officer in the schools, because of the department head, Mr. Chih-Ming Su’s words, I’d gotten out of my own unsettlement and this place of difficulty I’d, trapped myself in. And he’d often told the students, “Without the defeats, you can’t see the hopes”, his words had, inspired me to get back up on my feet again, to NOT dodge any of the changes that came at me in life.

So you can see, how this man’s change of mind had turned his own life around, he’d originally see getting transferred into the schools as a disciplinary official as a demotion, but, with the school officials showing him there’s an alternative way of perceiving things, he’d started, becoming more and more comfortable, working in his current position at work. Sometimes, we just all, needed someone else, to point us to the right ways.

Digesting the Anger…

Yeah, this’ll surely, give ME my ACID-REFLUX back again all right!!!

Digesting the anger, it’s, nothing easy, guess I’ll just have to, swallow it all down back, inside the PIT of my stomach, but, you KNOW how difficult it is, to contain the acid that’s rising up inside your esophagus, right? Digesting the anger, why must I, huh? Why can’t I just, let it all, overflow, and let everything around me get eroded away, huh?

Digesting the anger, hell no I won’t, why must I? And, hadn’t I, held it in too long, since god only knows when? I’m about to BLOW! Get away from me, if you don’t want to be a casualty of this war of mine!!!

what it’d, looked like…not my cartoon…

Digesting the anger, that, was what we’re all, made to do, form when we were little, we weren’t allowed to properly, work through our moments of anguish, instead, those god DAMN adult counterparts made us all, pretend, that we don’t feel angry, and this, is how we all end up, seeing them god DAMN shrinks that charged us over $200 per hours, and pay even MORE for those god DAMN meds, now that we’re, adults…

Digesting the anger, it doesn’t WORK, anger NEEDS an OUTLET, and if you’d, held it all in like I had, and boy oh boy, did I blow UP, my dogs would scatter and hide, whenever I’m about to blow, and, they were, even MORE aware of when I’m about to CRACK than I had been when I was younger!!!

Besides, why the HELL should I be the one, digesting ALL the angers in your lives, huh? What about the angers in MY life, who’s gonna carry them, if I’d, carried your angers for you already? My kid??? Yeah right, and no, I’m still, NOWHERE N-E-A-R the vicinity of getting PISSED off right now…

Recording Down the Days by Hand

Keeping track of the days, translated…

As the good friends and relatives all wished one another “Happy New Year”, it’s as I see the light steps of 2018 beginning, and my desk calendar had, flipped, to a brand new page too.

On my bookshelves, the organized daily calendars, ordered by the years, it’d kept track of my life, year after year, after year. Opening up the books, there are things I’d needed to do daily, people I need to talk to, along with the thoughts of my days that passed by, I’d even, taped the tickets to the exhibitions, the shows I’d gone inside too.

In the high-tech era, there would be friends who are in awe of how I’d still felt compelled, to keep track by writing things down, like what I was doing was, outdated, a symbol of my lagging behind the times, but I’d never minded what they thought. I’d enjoyed recording things down with my pen, and even used red pen to circle the more important events or people I needed to remember specifically. When I have the spare time, I’d picked up the desk calendars from years ago and just sorted through them, recalling everything I’d endured through during that part of my life, and, in my messy or legible handwritings, tried and remember how I was feeling as I was, writing things down, like watching myself, walk through the years.

In the ordinariness of day to day, flipping through these calendars, I get to discover, those moments of surprises like fireworks, lighting up my life, bringing me back to my happier memories of the past. This is, my alternative sort of journaling.

I’d always take a special note of the specific occasions marked by the calendars. Although I’m not a farmer, but I’d loved to observe nature’s change—the changes of the lengthiness of the days and nights, the leaves falling and sprouting up on the trees. The growth seasons of the fruits and vegetables. And, the poetic terms of the various parts of the seasons always led me to experience the rhythms of the changes of the seasons, like the symbol of the onset of the springtime; the coming of the summers, the freezing dews that saw the heated summers off, the falls of the frosts; the snowy seasons of winters, and although most of these don’t match to the weathers here in the tropics, but seeing the seasonal terms printed in red, it’d made me have that romantic expectation toward the changes in the seasons.

By the end of each year, I’d always gone to the bookstores, to select another brand new notebook, and printed my name on the bottom. At the start of 2018, with my expectations of the brand new year, hope that I can feel grateful toward the things to come, and to fill up these pages of my calendar notebook.

So these notebooks became a way you kept records of your coming of age, and this is important, because you may not know how far you’d come this year, compared to the last, if you don’t have a systematic way of keeping track, and, you don’t necessarily have to have a desk calendar notebook, you can also keep track of what’s happened in your lives by journaling too.

Pay Attention to Me More, Honey!

You should’ve just TOLD him what you’d needed from him, instead of throwing hints here and there, hoping that he might pick up on it, translated…

My Husband’s working late again, after he’d returned home, we’d interacted casually, he’d returned to playing his cell phone, and I, back to my books. A little while later, I’d, felt, a little bored, I’d walked in front of him, teased, “Do you notice anything different about me today?” Actually, I’d look as I always had, there’s no chance I could’ve, gained the weight in one day, could I? He’d lifted his head, his eyes lit up, replied, “Yeah, I saw it already, you’d gotten a perm, very fluffy, looks good on you!”

Perm? Perm my ASS! I hadn’t gone to the salon for a whole year to date, this man, he’d, never, looked at me straight. I’d rolled my eyes at him, “No perm! I’d just washed my hair, and dried it almost completely, it’s because I didn’t tie it up in a ponytail!” “Oh, no wonder you look, so exotic!”, Hmmmmmmmmm, he’d felt guilty, and was able, to turn the wheels in his own favors!

A short while ago, my ankle hurt, I’d gone to the hospitals, it’d not worked, and I’d gone to the bonesetters, and, had a ton of herbal medicines wrapped around my ankle, I’d limped very funny. In the evenings, my husband was sitting by the tables, reading the brochures from various marts.

Looking as I had, he must feel, awful for me? I’d, intentionally walked slowly, dragged myself across his way, hey, did he not see me? I’d gone back, did it again, nope, still not looking! Could it be, there were, babes in bikini in the ads? He’d not even looked at me through the corners of his eyes? So infuriating, I’d gone before his eyes a couple more times, man, he’d still, not seen! He’s, changed, no longer, cared for me as much now, woe is me, I’d gotten angered the whole night by myself.

The very next morn, he’d hurried off to work, still hadn’t, noticed my foot, this, is outrageous! I won’t do it again, I’d, gone up, and blocked him, and looked like I was, mistreated for years on end, pointed toward my own feet. He’d finally, lowered his gaze, and hollered aloud, “How serious is this! Must’ve hurt a whole lot”, I’d muffled my voice, said, “yeah, it’d hurt from last night to now, nobody showed any care of concerns, my heart ached even harder, the bonesetters wrapped it up in such a bulge and you still didn’t see!” He knew that it was his fault, and started buttering me up, “oh, honey, you’re, so extraordinarily beautiful, you’d not allowed me enough time to take a closer look at your face, I couldn’t even find the time, to drift my gazes to your feet!”, and even as I’d, still felt angry, there was, no way, I could’ve, carried on, scolding him.

Men, only has those lips of sugar, and sometimes, the words that flowed out of them, don’t believe it! Isn’t there, a saying: you’d rather believe in ghosts, than to trust the words coming out of a man’s mouth!

So all of this woman’s actions, were to make her husband notice how she’d, injured her foot, I don’t understand why you women (nope, still NOT one of you!!!) do that! Why don’t you, just tell your men exactly WHAT you want them to do (one command, one action, remember???), and besides, the male and female brains work, quite differently, and even IF you were married, for AGES, that still doesn’t mean, that you two know each other, like one another’s hands!

My Husband, Mr. Clean

A story of marriage, translated…

I’m a worshipper of lazy, I’d rarely put things back where I’d found them, every time I couldn’t find them, I’d just hollered, then, my mother would use her strong scanner to find every single thing back, no exceptions. She was especially insistence on cleanliness, as the winter sun showed its face, she couldn’t wait to take all the sheets, all the quilts, as well as the pillows to the wash, and afterwards, she’d taken the things to the backyard to get them dried by the sun. I’d chuckled at her actions, said that it was a total waste of time—and, keeping the house clean, had never made it to my to-do-list in life.

After I married and started my own family, I’d finally rid myself of my mother’s nagging, I thought, I finally get to live how I wanted to. But, things still didn’t work out, perhaps, the heavens were, disgusted with how unkempt I am, and sent a Mr. Clean to me. And since, my life’s been, a living nightmare.

As I’d come home, I was told, to wash my hands, especially with children in the house, we must take preventive measures against E.coli, I’d agreed; secondly, I’d needed to, take all my clothes off and change, into another set of outfit before I am allowed to sit on the couch, as there are, germs on our clothes, fine, I’ll, live with that too. But, Mr. Clean also made the rules of not setting foot on the living room floor before I showered, whenever I’d set foot upstairs, he’d sounded the warnings: “Don’t step on the floors!”, and so, I can only, walk on my knees, to get my clothes out of my room. Isn’t home supposed to be a place where I can relax? Why do I feel like I’m being quarantined here?

查看來源圖片like this???  Photo from online…

The summers get hot, washing my hair, showering by the day, that’s, a necessity, but, must we wash our hair by the day in the winters too? The answer, “YES!”, reasons? There are dusts that our hair may carry, even as I’d just gotten my perms, I was told, to get my hair washed, and I’d told him, that I’d needed the stabilizers in my hair to keep it set, he still refused to budge, and if I don’t do it, then, he’d, nagged on endlessly the whole night through. I’d never bought pricy shoes, and, the rate of them getting torn up, quite high, because he’d scrubbed my shoes outside and left them out to dry nightly; before we go to bed, he’d wash everything, the pots, the pans, the plates, the dishes again all over once more, and I’d already cleaned them after I’d made supper, but in Mr. Clean’s beliefs, I’m a cook, who can’t clean anything. I’m suspecting, that in a past life, he may have been a raccoon, and perhaps, he’d, carried the memories of that life with him this time around!

Time flew, in the over decade long we’d been married, in the hard work of Mr. Clean, our house was, spotless. As for me? I’d still believed, that “we should waste our life on more precious things”, still kept to my laziness in cleaning. Seeing, how I was, never going to, live up to his standards, he could only, give up, on reforming me, other than cooking, he’d done every other household chore himself.

If the husband and wife have varied personalities, and if we’d started fighting on every little thing we disagreed on, life will turn to hell; if we can change our thoughts, correct our own attitudes and behaviors, and use the distance and the space, to make ourselves more tolerant of one another, and treat the rules flexibly, then, every day is a good day, everything is wonderful, and, we’re, living in heaven.

illustration from the papers online…我是一個懶惰主義者,物品極少歸位,每當它們失去蹤影,只要開口求援,母親便會用她強...

With a Mr. Clean in my house, I’d not gotten bogged down by the ordinary rulings of the dusts and the dirt, I guess, it’s, an alternative sort of blessing. We both have our good qualities, we’d kept to our separate posts, keep this household running well; loving each other’s good qualities, and help one another shine with the good qualities that we have, we also shine ourselves, making life better.

And this, is how this couple had, adapted to one another in the marriage, the husband is too cleanly, too anal, but the wife had, learned to adjust her own ways, because she wanted the marriage to work, and, marriage is always a give-and-take, and compromises needed to be made, in order, for the two of you to get along better.