The Last Trip We Took Together…

That last trip we took together, do you remember it? Of course N-O-T! You’d, left us behind a long, long, long time ago. That last trip we took together, it was, our last draw, the final attempt, to save our marriage, and yet, I’d, realized, for certain, that we shouldn’t, stay married together, and, that last trip we took together, turned out, to be the beginning of our divorce!

That last trip we took together, I can vaguely recall the scenes, we went to this beautiful place (that much I know!!!), we thought that this was what our marriage needed, a vacation for just the two of us, without our parents, our relatives or friends, and children, just us two, to sort things through…

like this???  Photo from online…

And yet, that last trip, was like that first domino that led to the tumbling down of the rest of the lined-up straight dominoes! That last trip we took together, what happened to us? Why did we, fall out of love? I mean, our love was, supposed to last for a lifetime, wasn’t it? So, how come it didn’t, huh???

That last trip we took together, well, glad that was over, huh? ‘Cuz I’m no longer married to you, and, I’d never been, happier in my life, on that very last day of this vacation for two, which led to my life of one!!!


Can the Family Members Really, Truly, Understand One Another?

Uh, HELL NO, ‘cuz we’re too close, to see each other truthfully, like how the outside world can! Translated…

The misunderstandings of “people can come to understand one another”, is the cause of unsettlement.

When I was in my twenties, there was a girl who’d yelled at me:

“Why can’t you understand me?!”, it’d thrilled me. I’d analyzed the reason why her words had, thrilled me, and found, that this sentence was built on the foregrounds of ‘People can understand one another naturally”.

It’s a “norm”, that people can understand each other, but I couldn’t understand her, and so, that girl felt anxious and was tortured by her own sense of insecurity.

but, if you change the sentence to “People can’t naturally understand one another”, and come to the agreement, that not understanding each other WAS the norm, then, we wouldn’t be stressed out over it, nor would we get tortured by this lack of security we feel toward each other.

And so, as the other person understood us we’d felt glad, that it was, a miracle, that we’d, understood each other, and that would be, an excited and ecstatic moment for us both then.

That way, we’d no longer be stressed out over “we can’t understand one another”, and nor would we feel strained by “why can’t we understand each other?”. Because not understanding each other is the norm, and we’d think more on terms of “how can we understand each other more”, and no longer would we get, stressed out over it, or feel anxious either.

Am I wayward in thinking in this manner?

But I believe, that this prerequisite is very important, because of this, we’d, worked even harder, to try to understand one another.

Some believed, that other than “someone else”, there’s still that “someone who can understand me without me having to say a word”.

“Even if I don’t say anything, there’s another version of me who gets me”…………but, if you’re smart enough, you’d know right off the bat, that no such other person exists.

But, when you’d felt fatigued, beaten, trapped in your loneliness, naïve, and hated life, you couldn’t help, but hope, for someone else with whom “I don’t need to say a thing, and gets me”.

It’s meeting up with someone who’s a fake, but thinking that s/he is someone who’s real.

Take for instance, family, maybe it’ll be clearer for you.

Even as you’d lived for many years, with someone who resembled you, but to you, family members are still “those from outside”.

Stop believing that “because we’re family, we’d, naturally understood one another.” or, “parents understand their own children the best.” All of these, are LIES, or maybe, wishful thinking, hoping, that those we love can, understand us. And although we can all empathize with this, but this isn’t at all, true.

As you were younger, your families wouldn’t be considered as “others”.

Especially for children growing up in love, the parents became “even if I don’t say anything, they can understand me so well”. Or, as the parents became stricter, you’d turn yourselves into “my parents’ robots”.

And yet, as you grow older, when your judgments differed from your parents, they’d become, “others”.

Especially when it comes to finding a job, being in love, marriage, living independently, parents would often “show up” as a forceful other. At this time, both parties would feel that we’d lived under the same roofs so long, why is there such a huge difference in the way we thought, and felt flustered over this.

And yet, that, is how human interactions worked, being different is matter-of-fact, and so, so long as we communicate well, then, we can, reduce that emptiness inside, and can motivate us in positive ways.

Never believe the old clichés like “men don’t get women”, “Women can’t understand men”.

It’s not that men can’t get women, or women don’t understand men.

Men who start believing that “men can’t get women”, after they fell in love, they’d begun to try to understand the women they’re into. Meaning, that as he was a young child, this was, the very first time, that he’d wanted to understand the woman he’s with.

Before this, for instance, as he’d interacted with an older schoolmate in his extracurricular activities, he’d never thought of understanding the individual in depth.

As I went to lunch at a café with an older schoolmate, I saw him not eating any tomatoes, I’d asked him, “hey, don’t you eat any tomatoes at all?” But even as he’d replied, “I hate tomatoes”, I’d not keep his word in mind, “He doesn’t eat tomatoes, remember it!”

And yet, as I’m in love, when my girlfriend told me, “I hate tomatoes”, I’d, naturally remember it.

Which means, that the very first time we’re compelled to understand someone, it’s usually someone from the opposite sex. If it’s a man, he’d normally wanted to understand a woman first, and if it’s a woman, she’d normally first try to really understand a man.

(the above is in heterosexual relationships. But if you’re a homosexual, then, naturally, you would want to understand someone who’s the same sex as you).

Because we couldn’t understand “others”, that is why we say, “Men can’t get women”, or “Women have NO clue what men are thinking”.

And yet, these two sentences were both wrong. It should be changed to “nobody understands anybody else”. In parent-child relationship the child who’s having a first argument with the parents would say, “The adults don’t get children.”, as the siblings fight, “Siblings are still, not us.”

But, compared to the relations of families, most meet their “others” in love, when love started blooming in the teens, or early twenties, we are, driven, to understand someone we liked for the very first time in our lives, and are trapped, in deep emotional pains, and the person who makes us feel that way, is a “significant other”.

I must reiterate:

I believe, that “We can’t naturally understand each other”, this belief can help reduce our own insecurities, and help us understand one another better.

So, wanting to understand someone else is a sort of a drive (like the drives to eliminate hunger, thirst???), and, just like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you must fulfill your needs on the first two level before you’re able to contemplate about love, and, it’s because we’re attracted to someone, that, was why we’re, driven to understand everything we can about the person, isn’t it???

I Really, Really DO Love You

Those, are the love songs that somehow, soothed us all, as we got our hearts broken by those we thought we loved, translated…

A few short years ago, after Rene Liu’s getting married got out, although it may not have made the first page of the entertainment news, but I’d still saw the lifelong fans of hers’ detailed the sad losses in love they’d experienced.

Don’t know why, but everybody seemed to believe, that Rene had had a difficult time in love, or maybe, it’s the reflections of the love songs she performed, or maybe, how we’d believed, that the music and the movies she played reflected that of her reality, and so, all of her fans congratulated her on “making it in love”—although I’d found this to be somewhat tongue-twisting, like making marriage or love, into a near-impossible feat.

My classmates’ memories of Rene Liu collided with mine.  In our school days, her movie, “Fisherwoman, an Adolescent” was what made her famous, plus the song “I really, really DO love you”, it’d made her famous throughout.  Later, one of my former girlfriends looked eighty-percent like Rene, but I’d still, mistakenly, became her ironclad fans for a couple of years.

And now, as I thought about it, that was during the time when the singers were trending in Taiwan, the mega star performers, along with the hit singers.  And, at this time, Rene Liu’s love songs were able to, still stand, undefeated, and, she’d still, made it to the top of her games.

Back then when I was quite young, those never-ending nights, I’d listened to her performed on “Two People on Earth/Hard for Us to Meet Up/Even if I Can’t Become Your Lover, I’m Still Grateful Toward You”, and, I’d imagined a love that won’t make it.  It’s just, that these amazing dreams shattered so easily, and as I got older, I’d gained better understanding of, how that sort of love can’t be had.  That it’s, the model for the culture of love and romance in Asia.  And yet, how cruel the realities of love are, hurting each other, there’s only, left to be destroyed, let alone, the divisions of assets.

But I was once, a steady fan of hers, and I’d needed to, follow her from start to end.  Before I parted ways with that girl that resembled Rene Liu, I’d requested her song, “I’ll Wait for You”, to tell her how I’d felt.  It’s just, that the prophecies are just that, like those wayward promises written down, or the despairs, masked up by the illusions.  We still couldn’t make it.  The days passed, the seasons came and went, like how things get altered in the universe, and felt, somehow, the same.

The jet lag just couldn’t get exchanged, like how we can’t, get those lost youths of ours back again.

Back then, I’d finally realized, that when had we, become the characters in those love songs?  Those heartbreaking tunes, like those delicate handwritings, written carelessly down, on those Post-It notes that’s lost its adhesive properties.  Back then when we were young, and didn’t care about anything, we’d mistaken trials as tortures, but, isn’t that the properties of youth, to be able to, carelessly, live?  The white pedals of the magnolia, the skirts of the blue colored skies, only as I got much, much older did I realize, that love songs that started well aren’t love songs at all, that even if you’d used the sharpest cameras, you still won’t be able to, capture the details of the promises of the love you wish you had.

I know, that the lyrics are like those music videos, flashing right by, the sadness that came is fine, the loneliness, too long, like who the memories that became, a mirage by the corner of the walls, finally, pulled too long by the streetlamps, and losing its colors.  So, how will you think of me?  Like the lyrics, smile, or with that scent of lonely too?  Perhaps, being stubborn, is the nature of growing up.  Like that line from the gum commercial, “Growth sprouts out of the disillusionment”, but, most of those scenes that had gone by were too much like the steams on the windows, foggy up, it’s not the cleared days at all.  And in the end, we were like the stories had told, we’d become, that teenage couple who went for that one last stroll by the beach, and, the love we had, became, nothing more than just a mirage in the deserts.

It will never get repeated again, a boy, and a girl.  We’d used all that we had, fallen in love, bravery, and, we could’ve, taken the steps backward, and soar high as we’re able to.

But you didn’t, because you were too young, and that’s not how life usually works, because, true love only comes with experiences, and, until you’d had, your shares of heartaches, and heartbreaks, you will NEVER know the true meanings of love, that, is why those teenager years, it’s important, that you get in and out of love, after all, being able to FIX up your own broken hearts, that, is what makes you stronger than before!

Gazing, a Poem

From my Chinese subscriptions, translated by me…

I’d Stored Some Time into My Watch

Filled Up the Fish Tank, with the Morning Light

I’d Put up Ten Clouds Up in the Skies, Leaving Only Five

Plucked Up All the No Entry Signs

like this???  Photo found online…like

I’d Adjusted the Temperature of the Wind to Warm

Painted My House the Colors of the Rainbow

Okay, it’s, all Ready Now!

I’d Planned This Singlehandedly, Some Better Days

At This Time, the Vast Universe, the Universe is Slowly, Navigating

The Fields of My Serene Heart, There Seemed to Be Music Playing

I Want, This Sort of a Life

that moment of intimacy…photo from online still…

Looking, Deep, into Your Life

So, all of that is a set up, to be with someone, to include someone in your life, and this, is pretty dumb, living your own life, according to how it makes another feel!








My First Taste of Love

On the one who’s right for you, but got away, translated…

During the era where phones are prevalent, writing letters became, the hottest way of making friends.  It was my last year of high school, in order to balance out the pressures of the college entrance exams, I’d posted a friends ad onto a well-known magazine, and stressed that I will only reply back, if the people interested attached their photographs.

A young girl with bunny front teeth caught my attention.  She’d moved to Tainan with her older brother, was readying for her high school entrance exams.  She has an overly used first name, wrote like a guy would, with forward thoughts, and would often start arguing really vehemently with me using her pen, she’d even warned me, that her older brother belonged to the junior police squads (which was enough to send a lot of the adolescent boys running for their lives).  We’d often wrote many letters to each other per day, and sometimes, we’d even, hoped for the express mail to get delivered on the day we wrote.

Not long thereafter, we’d met up.  She looked just like her photograph, with the paler complexion, and looke, it’d staid very slimly.  With a thick Taiwanese accent when she’d talked in Chinese, and it’d made me feel fresh, I thought she was cute too.  We’d become like two old friends, carried on in conversation by Hoping E. Road as we strolled, as I was very passionately talking about something to her, then came, “Lang!”, she’d frozen stiff, stood where I was.  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a man who looked really angry, riding a police issued motorcycle, parked right beside her.  I didn’t know what to do, and instead of rushing in to save her, I’d, scattered for my life.

A week later, I’d received a letter from her classmate, it’d stated that her brother was out of uniform, and patrolling, found her with a bad adolescent, and after that, her brother watched her even more closely, and it would be difficult, for her, to even write to me now.  But, we’d, felt encouraged by the hardships that’s come between us, and wrote even more frequently to one another, given each other encouragements, hoped that we will both do very well on the examinations coming up soon.

The results of our exams came, she successfully got into the first All-Girls’ High School in Taipei, and I, into N.T.U.  Having lived my former years in suppression, I’d entered into the open, freer N.T.U., I’d let myself go for quite a while, gotten involved with countless number of extracurricular activities, worked as a tutor to earn my own way, gone to the dances………and, it’d caused me, to lag behind on my scholastic performances too, and I’d started, writing Lang less, and less.

But, we’d, kept in touch over the years, in her last year of high school, she’d invited me to the birthday celebration of her school, my family loved how naïve and untainted she was, and would often invite her over for the meals, and, as we saw one another, we’d, given one another encouragements.  After I graduated college, life wasn’t as well, other than being upset by my own life, I’d, shut myself off from the world, lost contact with her.

After all of these years, I’d gone through countless encounters of love and romance, gotten hurt each and every single time.  And now, in my sixtieth year, everything in my past had, flashed by my sight.  I’d, looked back, and found, that Lang, whose hands I’d never even touched, was the one, that I had, loved most deeply.

So, this is on the one that got away, this young woman may have been the one for you, but, you got lost, in the colorful life of the university, and the two of you lost touch through the years, and, she’d, stayed on your mind, because she was, the very first girl you’d given your heart to…

The Malabar Chestnut & Those Memories of Youth

The memories of her first love lives on, in the form of a plant as a token of the guys love for her, translated…

That day as the typhoon came, the potted plants on my lanai were destroyed, especially my favorite Malabar chestnut.  My son told, “This Malabar chestnut is such an eyesore, let’s just, toss it!”  I’d told him, “Nope!  So long as I’m alive, this Malabar chestnut shall never get thrown out!”

Some three decades ago, I’d gone on a fieldtrip with a boy I liked, and on the way, we’d passed a flower shop, there was a Malabar chestnut that was just the right size that caught my eyes, and, the boy, who was very tentative knew immediately, that I liked it, asked the owner of the florist to wrap it up for me immediately.something like this, perhaps???  Photo from online…

He said, so long as there’s soil, just throw in the seeds, or, plant down the stems, the Malabar chestnut will keep on growing.  And so, this plant was seen, as something that’s too cheap, “but life is full of uncertainties, if you like it, then, it’s worth millions.  With this Malabar chestnut accompanying by your desk, you will multiply your speeds in reading and writing, you must, take good care of it, and in return, it will, take care of you too.” I’d kept these words in mind since.

For many years, I’d moved around several times, and, it’s always been, that piece that I must take with me, as I changed it into a bigger pot, it’s like, watching my favorite child getting taller and bigger, needing to buy the new clothes!  And, that small potted plant of no more than twenty centimeters originally, already exceeded my height now.

After I’d asked the experts, I’d decided, to saw off all the loose branches.  Several days ago, I’d found the new buds sprouting out of the edges, I was so ecstatic.  Early yesterday evening, I’d opened up the screen door to my lanai, saw how the Malabar chestnut was flourishing, the freshly grown leaves glistened in the light of the setting sun, I’d felt, that burst of new life inside of my heart.

The world is never the same, and the guy I liked and I, never made it, but this Malabar chestnut, along with the memories of my youth, stayed.

So, this plant became meaningful, because it was a gift from that first love of yours, and, although the two of you didn’t work out in the end, you’d kept the plant, as a marking of your youth, of that young love you’d once had.

He’d Tussled My Hair

Ahhhhhhhhhh, the tastes of love we’d encountered in our schooling days, so innocent, liyet, so surprising at the same time, translated…

I’d walked up the stairs, passed the group of boys, gathering around the entrance, smoking, then came whistling from behind me…………So, this is a cram school, this huge classroom the size of an auditorium, the rows of desks and chairs, cramped in, and numerous “bad” students who were, forced to attend the sessions by their parents.

Several days later, I’d recognized that guy who’d whistled at me, it was, a boy with his sleeves always rolled up, with the elongated brows and eyes, very slim and tall.  Privately, I’d called him “bad student”, felt, that our two worlds would be too dissimilar for us to cross path.

And yet, that day as I sat in the classroom, reading on my own, he’d came to me asked, “You’re practicing math?” I’d kept my head lowered, not knowing how to reply.  Suddenly, he’d, reached his hands out, and tucked the hair, fallen to the side of my face to behind my ear.  Suddenly, I’d, blushed and my heart raced, and my mind went blank, as I finally came back to me again, he’d returned to the group of boys he’d belonged to, and continued joking.

After that day, he’d still continued whistling at me, and I’d no longer dared, go to and from alone.  In my goody-two-shoe stage of cram school sessions, he was the first that’s made my heart skipped a beat in time.

So, this, is your first taste of love, or rather, what felt like love, and, you’d not expected this happening in your cram school sessions, but this boy, he apparently, struck a chord with you somehow…