The Sign on My Back, Ways to Tackle Becoming Forgetful

Scared of forgetting things, could it be, an early sign of dementia?  Or, could it be, that there’s, just too many things we’re, keeping in mind, that one or two had, “slipped”???  Translated…

“Honey, looks like I’m going to have to post something on your back as a reminder today.”  As I woke up in the morn, my wife hollered out at me.  I’d asked her what’s up, she’d smiled and told me, “While I was making breakfast, I’d suddenly, forgotten what I was about to do next, and no matter how hard I’d tried, I can’t remember it, could it be, that I’m already, demented?”

“Dementia?  Don’t exaggerate.”  I’d laughed, “Last night you were just telling me, that there’s a CD due today, that you’re going to, withdraw it from the banks………”, after she’d heard, she’d realized, that she’d told me this, and tapped her head with her fingers, “Yes, yes, that’s it!  Oh, I’d still needed to………”, she looked troubled in thought, like she can’t remember something else.

okay, mayne NOT that overboard!!!  Photo from online…

“Let’s do it this way,” I’d recommended to her, “Why don’t you do like I do, have a notebook handy, and write everything you need to do down, or, just use the Post-It notes and stick it on the fridge, that way, you will NEVER need to worry about forgetting anything!”

“We’re together every single day, or, I should, post that stick-it note on your back, like those cue boards for the actors and actresses, that way, I’d known what I’m going to do.”  My wife still wanted me to do as she said, posting the notes on my back, she’d’ continued, “You know what, there was a famous media personnel after her mother was diagnosed with dementia, she’d stated, ‘what made me the saddest was how my mother forgot our shared memories, it’s, the worst kind of punishment.’”

The worst kind of punishment?  This was, shocking to me, and I’d recalled my eldest cousin who’d worked as a school teacher for thirty-nine years.  Only a few short years after his retirement, one morning, after he walked out of the house, and in a few short steps, had forgotten how to get back home, clearly, that, was the signs of Alzheimer’s; not long thereafter, his condition worsened, it’s small matter that he’d forgotten things, what’s worse was he’d wanted to ram out of the house, rushed to school.  Although the families tried stopping him, he’d still found his way, to “sneak” out.  And yet, after he got out, he’d become, disoriented, the family worried he might be in an accident, and started the cycles of “finding the lost” daily.

like this???  Not my picture…

“Posting a note on my back is only temporary,” I’d smiled and told my wife, “Why don’t you give your brain exercises, like through reading, practicing calligraphy, or, get involved with line dancing, that, would be the best way to prevent yourself from forgetting!”

She’d nodded, and told me that she will, otherwise, it would be, regrettable for her in the future, if she’d, forgotten, this past we’d, once shared.

So, it is, normal that we start to forget things as we get older, and, because dementia IS the common cold of old age, everybody is scared, and, there’s no need to feel alarmed if you can’t remember things, after all, we’re still, processing a TON of information from a day-to-day basis, and, not being able to recall the slightest details, is only normal, we’re NOT computers or machines here!!!

U, Who Uses His Body to Express Himself

The path, of a performer, it’s, never going to be easy!  Translated…

Since my trip to Denmark last year, I’d become, more than willing, to take a long commute, to see the performances.  Back then, in a certain Modern Arts Museum in Denmark, the light in my mind suddenly, turned on, it wasn’t just a light, a star, more of, twinkling on and on, never dimming—it’d, arrived, to the other end of the world, even, there’s, no reason for me, to slack off in Taiwan, this tiny island.  And so, I’d alighted the MRT, transferred onto a train, arrived to the “wilderness”.

photo from online…

This is a café normally, at the cramped up alley between old apartment buildings.  A performance arts space, in this sort of an desolate, older residential area, this place should be called “Savannah”!  The café is spacious, which the place was made out of, with the audience, arriving, the show can begin—a table, a percussionist, two dancers, one man one woman, this, was a dance created by U.

U has a special background, born in Taiwan, raised in Indonesia, went to U.S. to study films, danced in the Netherlands.  He said he’d become, multi-lingual as a kid, but, felt, that he couldn’t, clearly express the innermost meanings well enough, until he’d discovered dance, like how I’d found my own way, to communicate with the world.  This unique, made-up way of “original language”.

Shortly after my return to Taiwan, U found, that the modern dancers here are just as good as those abroad, but, there’s, a small market for audiences, and, the field doesn’t look optimistic at all.  He’d asked, how come such great things, you just brush aside?  He’d seen a free performance at Bellavita, the dancers performed in the halls of a high-end shop, as he was really into watching the performances, he realized, that there was, a young boy, who was also, intrigued, the child asked his mother, “what, are they doing?”, the mother glanced over, said impatiently, “They’re CRAZY!”, then, pulled the child away.

male dance solo 的圖片結果like this???  Photo from online…

“As I heard that, I was, heartbroken.  How come this, was what the arts education in Taiwan had been reduced to?  I know, a lot of people would tell me, modern dance is hard to understand.  But why must it be understood?  The process of watching the performances, there would be an emotional response, something that’s, beyond verbal expressions, that, is what’s, most important.”  He’d, told me.

U’s performance was short, afterwards, he’d gotten the audience involved in a small activity.  We’d needed to, remain silent, for our partners to perform the actions we’d, wanted them to, or have them understand, what we’d wanted them to do.  My partner was a beautiful girl, she gave up easily, after one to two charades and she’d not guessed it right, she’d felt anxious, and it’d, forced me, to think of an alternative way, to express myself.  In the process, I’d found, that we were, staring deeply, into each other’s eyes than usual, and, worked harder, to listen to each other, than we normally would.

U said, he’d planned, to perform in Taiwan, at the same time, he’d wanted to, direct some short films on dancing.  I know the hardships he’s weathering, what is unsure is, the path he’d, walked on, or the path he’s about, to walk onto, which one would be, harder?  As the performances are over, I’d wanted to, walk over to him and tell him, but, I’d feared, that staring into my eyes, U may see my worries for him, so, I kept, to myself.

As I walked slowly, back to the station from the wilderness, then, transfer on the MRT back to Taipei, this almost-an-hour ride, doesn’t feel, that long at all.

like this show for the public???  photo from online…

So, this, is on chasing one’s own dreams, the writer is also a performer like the person U, so, she’d, understood the hardships that he is facing, has faced, and is about to face for his future, because she’d, weathered through it, or is, weathering through it right now, and, there are, NO easy way, if you want to be successful, you can’t find shortcuts, you just have to, bite down, and, take the trials as they come, and, fight hard, and, you might (still not a definite though…) be successful in the end!

A Lone Bird, Taking Flight

From being burned OUT!  Translated…

After the noises, I knew, I will never, return, to those days of quiet, of serenity again, every day, I’d, watched that sky that’s, constantly changing colors, the thunder that, came from, nowhere, the flood that started, out of nowhere, how, do I, get back to the days of the past, when I could, feel at ease and just, study?  How do I, go back to the days, when this trail wasn’t, so well traveled?  Right now, my mind felt, like that old shirt that’s been washed and rewashed, over, and over again, no matter how I’d bleached, there are still, age marks, spots, with the memories of the injuries I’d, sustained in life.

A bird returning to the nest flew by the skies, where, is it, returning to?  Where, can it find a nest so settled and stable?  Can’t remember, how many times the feathers changed, with that expectation, of a, brand new life, living among others, but too shamed, to fight for the food, and the only dignity it had remained, in flying solo amongst the buildings.  If name is a symbol of glory, then, distribution becomes, the biggest sort of insult.  That sort of an awful looks from fighting over the food, don’t know how many fell ill by seeing it every single day.  Just like that bird that cut across the skies, allowing, that shade, to vanish, into the distances.

And, in the depth of the night, came the sounds of flute playing, who is it, that played that song of sorrow of the eras?  Is the person, hiding that scent of sorrow in the notes, passing, to someone who can understand, or, like a nightingale, singing its songs of the night?  The notes seemed to have that ancientness to it, man’s pursuits of thousands of years, will NEVER measure up to the purities of the world, and, how can you, mutilate yourself so?  No longer, flipping at the calendars, no longer, seeking out that longitude/latitude on the maps, where to station oneself, it wouldn’t, make a difference.  Sneaking a peek, at others, everything is, so clear now.

exactly what that felt like…not my photograph…

Some sang high, those who followed along, gathered, only that lone bird, continued, flying, all on its own, it doesn’t call on its kind, so, it can only, flight for the reducing amounts of foods, that branch it’d stood on for day already, rotted out, and can no longer, withstand the weights of all the birds.  It’d, flew onward alone, left ALL the noises from the others behind, continued in flight, and, flying on, and on, and on, even as the moon dimmed out, depending on just the dying light of the stars.  It’d, kept, flying onward, become, this small, black dot in the universe.

So, this, is how the writer feels, getting lost in the daily grind, there’s, that sense of burnout, that sense of I don’t know what I’m doing here, that sense, of feeling tired, fatigued, of the same old routines, day in, and day out, and just like that bird, the narrator will, keep treading on in her/his own life, because that, is what we all do, we, carry on, with our lives!

Give Me a Bouquet of Flowers

Making your own days brighter, spending only a little money to make yourself happy, translated…

On the way home from work, I’d brushed shoulders with thousands of people, and couldn’t help, but feel somewhat, agitated, but, turning the corner, into that florist shop, seeing the wide variety of flowers, waving their arms at me, I was able to, saturate my emotions, even, felt, a bit, glad.

it’s, not for anybody else, but herself, not my photograph…

I’d selected a bundle of my favorite flowers, making the rest of my way home easier, even if I was, cramped inside the MRT trains, there was, a separate world, belonging to, just me there.  And, if there were, a couple of days that I couldn’t make my way to the florist’s, I’d lost that center in my own life, felt, that there’s, NO light in the house, that I’d, not felt safe and secure anymore.  Give me a bouquet of flowers, then, I’m, fully, recharged; a woman with a bouquet of flowers, carries herself, most beautifully in the world.

A child who’d brushed by my side said enviously, “Mommy, look, she has a bouquet of flowers!”, I’d felt, delighted, somewhat, proud, I’d, pulled a rose from my bundle, handed it to that cute child, said, “Now, you have your own flower too!”

So, this, is passing around the happiness you’d found, in your ordinary day-to-day living, because life can become a total DRAG, and, if you don’t find some way, to cheer yourself up like this woman had found the ways to, then, you will always, be carrying that soured face to and from work every single day, from nine to five, or even longer.

making the floral arrangements oneself, photo from online…

T, the Actor Who’s about to Go Off Stage

On reflections of the self, translated…

I’d freed up my schedule as well as I possibly could, and finally, I’d made it to T, the actor’s final performance, I’d expected him to start crying hard on the last scene, but instead, he’d looked, so very, serious, and I was, the one, crying like crazy. Such an amazing performer, when, will I see you stand on that stage again?

“Every time I went on stage, I’d always felt a bit lost, as I performed, it was, as if, I’d felt some sort of revelation, that everything was real, and yet, after the performances ended, I’d felt, it’s, so unreal.” He’d pressed his ball cap low as he’d told me. That, was the time, that we’d met, when he’d told me, he wanted to, stop performing.

a performer putting on a show on stage, photo from online…

“That, is how drama goes, ‘the magical assumptions’, it’s because you’d gone all in, that, was why you’re so amazing on stage.”

“But this made me feel very vacant, empty. It shouldn’t be normal, it’s not the life I’d wanted.”, he’d lifted his head up, stared, straight at me.

“You can expand your life, other than acting, do something you enjoy. Didn’t you tell me you loved fishing? Go fishing often then.”, I’d told him.

“I’d gotten this reality check, this wake-up call when I went fishing. Let me ask you, did you really grow up to be the adult you’d always wanted to be?”, he’d inquired.

For some unknown reasons, I felt a bit agitated, not wanting to give him a reply. This is such an enormous question, and I thought it had NOTHING to do with whether or not he continued to act or not. I was hurting over, how Taiwan will soon lose, another excellent “voice”, or maybe, a “spokesperson” even, to tell us where the moon is.

taking that bow!  Not my photo…

actor taking a bow 的圖片結果

He was the one who’d told me, what a “performer pointing to the moon” was. The dancer, Duncan once stated, that there are, three sorts of dancers: first, ones who’d used dancing as a simple form of exercise; second, ones who’d used their bodies, to make the moves, according to the tempos, and express their feelings through their performances; last, the kind that made ones’ bodies transparent, which allows the audience to see the ups and down inside the performers’ souls. The last kind was what Duncan wanted to become. T told me, for him, there are, just two kinds of actors: in the Japanese shows, there’s a set of moves, relating to the moon, the first type of performer can make the audience feel, that the moves s/he performed, is nothing less than perfection; another kind, only lets the audience see the moon. T told me he’d wanted to be the latter.

take one final bow, and then, it’s, all over, not my picture…

All of a sudden, it’d dawned on me, why he’d wanted to stop acting. T is truly, amazing, too beautiful, with too many qualities that made him into a star, plus his performance skills, outstanding too, every time he stood up on stage, nobody misses him. Even if he’d, minimized himself, it couldn’t fight off that natural sort of attraction that he had. It’s quite ironic, that sort of charisma on stage which every performer sought after, was what T wanted to avoid the most.

“When you identify an object, given it a name, then, the message gets across, and it’d become, valid, so, the characters come to life; otherwise, only the performers were living, the characters they portrayed become like corpses. My audience only always just see me, and not at the moon I was, pointing to.”, he’d told me. I’d totally, disagreed. As a member of his audience, every time I saw him perform, if there was a moon over his head, I can not just see, but also, see that light from the moon, sprinkled, over the top of his head. I will look at his facial expressions, and the moon back and forth, thinking to myself: you are the sort of performer I’d wanted to be. I just hope, that one day, he will return back to the stage again, and, I can finally, answer the very last question he’d tossed to me.

So, this man, is at crossroads in his life, he’d worked in his field of expertise too long that he’d become, somewhat burnt out, and he’d wanted to breakthrough, but, he felt stuck, which is probably why he’d felt the need, to quit what he did, and start anew, working in a totally different field, while this woman he was speaking with sees him in a different light compared to how he’d envisioned himself.

Hardworking Mannerisms, the Courage to Change

Words of encouragement, that’s carried this man so far in life, translated…

Forty year ago, I was about to graduate from middle school, because I came from poverty stricken backgrounds, and knowing, that my grades weren’t high enough, that I was, unfitting, to continue going to school, after school ended at the end of May, I’d started working at a textile mill close by.

One day, the daughter who’s in the First Female High School of Taipei of the owner of the textile mill came by to sort through the goods. All of a sudden, she’d inquired why I’d not continued my education? Said, that even as my family was economically troubled, I still shouldn’t give up the opportunities to study, and handed me the notes she’d taken for her high school entrance from back when she was taking the exams as a gift to me, and told me, that if I’d not done well on the exams, then, there would always be a spot for me at the factory.

I looked at those notes when I got home, was ready to give up, the owner’s daughter called, “Young man, you’d needed to work hard, to find what you can do, it’s not making the grade that matters, it’s proving to yourself, that you can, change.” After I hung up, I’d decided, to buckle down and study hard. As the grades were posted, my grades were high enough to send me to the county schools or Zhongzhen Preparatory Military Academy. In the end, I’d selected to attend military school.

After that, whenever I’d faced troubles in my life, I’d recalled what that older girl who was attending the number one all-female high school in Taipei had said to me, “After you’d worked hard, you would then know, where your strengths are, it’s not a matter of how high you can score, it’s the proof that you have for yourself, to make a change.” Her words had helped me, whenever I’d met a fork in the road of life, it’d helped, enriched my life experiences.

So, apparently, this young woman’s encouraging words had, helped this young man, it’d turned his life over, made him want to work hard toward a goal that he’d set for himself.

This just shows, how when we need a boost, someone will be there, to offer us words of encouragements, and, these people became, our primary influences in life, the driving force behind us, doing better each and every day.

Deepsea Diving, a Poem

You can escape, from your own broken heart there, you’re, eventually, going to, face up to it, but for now, you’re, submerged, under all that water, translated…

all that water is enough, to distract you from your broken heart…not my picture…

Finally, the Rope for the Drapes Severed

That String of Shells So White

Broken into Bits & Pieces, Mixed in with Salt Crystals

Disclosed the Sound of the Rain from the Deep Sea

Before I Open My Umbrella

To Construct This World, Made of Corals

Blocking Out the Beauties

The Tentacles of Relationship Became

Fossilized

hurts, doesn’t it???  Not my picture…

You Were, Stuck in the Midst

That Clownfish, Trapped in

The Corals of Your Thoughts

Didn’t Want to Burst Your Bubbles

That She Just

Doesn’t Love You Anymore…………

So, chances are, you will be, more than likely, to keep yourselves underwater, because up above, is the cold hard truth of how she doesn’t love you anymore waiting, while in the oceans, the fishes, they’d, felt better, keeping the truth untold, unspoken, to keep your heart from, shattering………