Reward

M6 Final Exam Essay

Topic Chosen: Who is a famous person you admire, and why?

"Dong Bang Shin Gi is a famous band I admire but the person I admire all of this semester is Aj. Star. Aj. Star is my English teacher this year. She is the best English teacher I’ve ever had, she always puts up with the students in her class very talkative students, sometimes they don’t listen to her and always makes her sad but she still loves them…And I…am the one of her student. I want to tell her that thank you for teaching us, understanding us and you try hard all the time to make us concentrate. And I want to say ‘sorry’ that’s all I can say because I’m not a good student. I always do other things when she told us to make practices; listening to ipod, talking with Fai, acting like hyperactive person. And finally, I want to say ‘I LOVE YOU’ that she makes this year of mine the fabulous year. THANK YOU Aj. Star…You’re my best English teacher EVER."

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard." ~ A.A. Milne

Hallelujah reprised

While discussing the meaning behind his song "Hallelujah" (a favourite of mine), Leonard Cohen described the idea as such:

"It's the notion that there is no perfection - that this is a broken world and we live with broken hearts and broken lives, but that is still no alibi for anything. On the contrary, you have to stand up and say Hallelujah under these circumstances."

I was in a car accident on Saturday night. We were straight through a light when another car turned left and rammed into us at a generous speed. I couldn't' say whose fault it was, both me and my friend Philip were engaged in heavy conversation. The force of the hit slammed my chest against the passenger seat in front of me, but through it all I was lucky enough to walk away with just some heavy thoracic inflammation/bruising as well as as a gash on my right leg. Thankfully, my friend suffered no ills aside from the shock that came the next day.

My head has not been in a good space. Most days over the last few weeks, I have intermittently experienced sensations akin to a cross between an anxiety attack and an acute bout of depression. The thought of the future pains me, leaving me almost prostrate with panic. I'm leaving Bangkok in 3.5 months. I know what it is I want to do next year but have no clue as to if I will actually accomplish it. The applications seem daunting, especially with my lack of access to a computer outside of school. Furthermore, there's just the fear that I won't be a doctor. That I'm not good enough, that I've just been kidding myself and fooling everyone else with the idea that I am capable.

I'm leaving Bangkok in 3.5 months and I'm scared. I'm terrified. I leave my apt and go for unnecessary outings because my head feels like someone has attached a helium tank to it and the whole thing is about to blow any second. But it doesn't, and it's not because of some inner strength that I have. It's because of my friends, the people around me. It's people like Alisa, Benish, Nathalie, & Nianne, that I can call/text, and say "What are you doing? Need to meet up asap" and that's enough for them to realize and understand my panicky call for help.

I'm not sure how to break out of this. I'm not sure how get out of my head and take the right steps. I don't even know which ones those are. It would be too easy to disappear, to forever live a life of mediocrity here, to never try to make it work.

You know, sometimes it's a very difficult thing to be happy, the world is full of things to keep you down. Lack of money, satisfaction, stimulation...But if you can find people, good people, that can make you smile, that can make you laugh, that can give you their hearts and the kinds of hugs that make you want to cry and melt into their arms, well...then you are blessed.

I'm not sure what I wanted to get out of this post or for you to gain from it - maybe nothing. Perhaps just an insight into my head and the knowledge that I'm hurting.

But I'm trying.

Hallelujah.

Ode to Joy(ce)

The camera zooms in on the kitchen.

There they are, the two laughing dark silhouettes. One is much taller, statuesque, her prominent cheekbones and piercing eyes would be the first things you would notice if not for her dominating natural height of 6 ft. She cuts an imposing figure in her tailored slacks and fitted blouse. This is Joyce, she is holding the spatula.

The other is shorter, less severe. She is mostly known for her friendliness and wide open smile, the latter of which she readily displays now. She sits atop the counter and her bare legs dangle from beneath her sundress, one of the many she owns. We shall call her Star, she gestures with her hands.

(Prepare the montage) The clothes are different and the smell that currently wafts through Joyce's expansive apartment is changed, but this is a familiar and recurring scene for the two of them.

It is a wonder that they are here today, together, laughing. They were introduced to each other in a manner that was bound for disaster. The typical, "Oh, you should meet my friend ________, she's black too!" The usual well-meaning friends that assume a similarity in pigment should further extend to a cohesion in personalities. This is rarely the case, but this time it did.

Joyce and Star have shared a friendship that has spanned most of the latter's existence in Bangkok. Joyce's strong will and icy temper has been tempered by Star's easy laughter and pushy optimism. While Star's often weak self-esteem has been reinforced with the other's Grade-J personality concrete.

The camera pans back towards the kitchen.

The lesson continues. Joyce is, as usual, trying to drill another so-called simple recipe into Star's porous brain. Star tries hard to concentrate (mostly) but the two of them know that these results are not likely to be replicated outside of this moment. Besides, their minds are elsewhere because this is not any ordinary lesson in torture (or, as you know it, cooking).
This is the last.

The camera zooms out and takes in the emptiness of Joyce's ordinarily modernly furnished apartment. Boxes line the walls, the paintings are pulled down, and even the usual cornucopia of high heels and stilettos has been put aside and contained.

The lesson is over. The usual grand red-oak table is no longer present so they will take their dinner in the kitchen while Fabien continues his work in the bedroom. Joyce and Fabien are off to France and tonight is the final evening that Star and Joyce will share together.

They discuss the future; Joyce's imminent departure and Star's eventual one. Promises to visit are made and assured, but they are both aware of the uncertainties. They smile and make merry; theirs is a beautiful, open laughter - Star's loud guffaws mixed with Joyce's slightly-muted titterings.The camera follows this sound outside of the kitchen, into the living room, and out through the open window.

The tears do not come until much later.

Fade to black.

Uncertainties

Today was the first day of class, ending the three-week mid-semester hiatus. I find I am still slightly terrified every first day, perhaps time is the only thing that can alleviate the nervous anticipation of delivering a successful lesson to bleary-eyed students whose desire to be anywhere but the classroom is wholly comparable to yours.

But, time is one thing that I now severly lack. Today, I had to make the official declaration that I would not be returning to the school for the next academic year. This marks a complete reversal from the position I found myself in a year ago. I have truly loved and have been so thankful for my time here in Bangkok but teaching has never been my heart's calling and there is a part of me that knows it's time to return to the path I set out for myself so many years ago.

So, as they say, it's the final countdown. In 5 months I'll have to say farewell to a place that means every bit as much to me as home.

The India that I loved...

(Mis)Adventures

There are events in your life that mark themselves in your soul. These life-altering events that you can never be rid of.


India was such an event.


"The first night was truly a haze. I was quickly rescued by Nianne, a bright familiar face amongst the hundreds of others - so similar, all clamoring to be noticed by me. One night in a cramped hotel room followed by hours of traveling in our van. Our little India family: Jaki, Nianne, and me, not forget Roshan, our silent but indispensable driver.


There are many ways to see India, I'm sure. For the majority of the experience, mine took place behind a few inches of glass and an average speed of 60 kph.


For four days I watched India pass by, variably uninvolved. There were breaks in semi-reality of course; food breaks, bathroom breaks, and the like. Ah, and don't forget the sight-seeing - the jewel of our trip. The majesty of my first full view of the Taj Mahal is one that is eternally imprinted on me. At one point, I pressed myself arms-wide against a small face of the inspiring monument to love - partly to ascertain its realness yet also to lose myself in its overwhelming facade.


Next up was Jaipur, also known as the pink city, a place certainly not to be missed if you find yourself "passing through" India - if there is such a thing. Jaipur was by far my favorite city, busy yet not suffocating and the beautiful Amber Fort could be considered a significant rival to the Taj for its size and beauty, albeit erected for less romantic means.

My journey till then had been spent with my good friends Jaki and Nianne. Nianne hails from Bombay (Mumbai) so was a grateful boon to our wanderings But, I knew what lay in store for me after Jaipur - a tearful farewell to my compatriots as they continued their journey to Bombay and I trekked out solo to Delhi.

If you consult your 'God's gift to travelers', aka Lonely Planet, about Delhi it offers 2 separate lists of travel warnings - one for solo travelers and one for the female variety. To combine both unfortunate aspects is to drown yourself in a host of advisories and cautionary tales, yet this was the city to which I set out. For my mother's sake, I shan't delve into the unfortunate encounters (ranging from the more benign to the truly threatening) that plagued my trip to Delhi from the very outset. Thank goodness for the seemingly exaggerated stories of danger from my Bangkok friends that kept me alert and possibly saved me.

All in all, I am composing this entry sitting in the Delhi International Airport a full 36 hours earlier than my initial departure time, so perhaps this is the truest evidence of the horror of my solo (mis)adventure.

My last hour in the city consisted of me choking back tears and curses over the shattered Bollywood illusions I held about India. I hated the city, the country, even the taxi driver next to me. I could hardly see the detestable city rush by through my bloodshot eyes, partly due to tears shed over a phone call to Tom as well as the complete lack of sleep since I landed in the city 16 hours prior.

The good man next to me must have noticed my despondent spirits because he tried to teach me the Chinese words for "go home," "happy," and "beautiful girl" (the Chinese only makes sense because I grabbed the taxi after escaping to the Tibetan Refugee area on the outskirts of Delhi). However, when these failed to make a positive impact, I suddenly found myself on an unexpected and unacknowledged tour of a number of the sights in Delhi that I never managed to see. Unfortunately, by this point, I was too physically and emotionally drained to even rummage for my camera but I knew he was pleased when my face broke into a semblance of a smile, my first since stepping into Delhi.

Oh India, so ugly and yet filled with wonder. I am rushing away from your shores but you have left a considerable impact. I am not as strong as I inwardly believed myself to be. The world is dark and I am expendable. Dorothy had it right all along, there's no place like home.

Click
Click
Click."

~ Delhi, India
10 October 2009

Hallelujah

So, about 8 days ago, I did something that solidified the atmosphere of home that has been settling over me in Bangkok over the past year and half - I joined a choir. You all may know, more or less, the love I have of singing. Every stage of my life has involved a choral group; choir in middle school, Varsity Singers in high school, and who can forget the amazing Sing Alliance of my Baylor days.

It is the Bangkok Combined Choir that claims these vocal chords now, I auditioned and joined upon a recommendation from P'Bee - our school's magnificent choir director (herself a long-standing member of the BCC). The BCC is not a regular choir in that it does not perform weekly or even monthly, but rather prepares for a full-fledged concert. The upcoming one is none other than the 3 day performance of Handel's "Messiah" and "The Creation" in the second week of December.

More than being just a vocal outlet, being a part of the BCC has lent a steady presence to my remaining time here in Bangkok. Most weeks, the days smear into one: school, tutoring, dinners, outings. The faces blur and I feel myself lost in the city's haze, I am not necessarily in Bangkok, any over-populated, polluted, high-rise dominated skyline will do.