Patriotism

I grew up believing that I would become a revolutionist.

I was never "a child of the revolution". That title belonged to the aunts and uncles who lived to see their home wrecked and trampled on. However, my foreignness with war did not stop me from wanting to become a fighter. Or a speaker for children who did not have the education to express their hunger and sorrow. A soldier for those who could not afford to join in the good fight for a better society because they were still caught in the fight for survival. But most important of all, I was going to be a patriot for my ancestral home.

Andrew Lam writes: "it was the Vietnamese way to ask the land to bless and protect the newborn. 'Your umbilical cord is also buried in an earthen jar in our garden,' she said. The incident and the knowledge of my own earthly ties made a strong impression on me: our ways were sacred and very old....
No Vietnamese history book, no patriotic song, no agrarian-based adage could have possibly prophesied my own abrupt departure from Vietnam nor my subsequent transnational ending. For at the end of the Vietnam War many of us did no die protecting river and land as we, in our rituals, games, poetry, and songs, had promised ourselves and our ancestors' spirits. For all the umbilical cords buried, for all the promises made, we did the unimaginable: we fled." (4)

Perhaps the reason why I feel so strongly the way I do about my heritage is because I have a different connection to Vietnam, or "the Old World" as many Ameri-Asian writers have phrased it, than Lydia or my other friends. No one ever told me it was my duty to become Vietnam's messiah. Yet I could not help thinking I had a sense of responsibility to return to the forefront to help save the rest of my comrades. After all, did I not have the riches and fortune of America to become the leader I needed to be?

Co Le Mai was visiting Bac Khang and Bo for the weekend. Tonight was her last time in Los Angeles so we decided to take her out to eat Pho before her long 6 hour trip home to New York. During the dinner, Bo and Co Mai came across the question if the other thought that China would one day take Vietnam back. At first I was taken back at such a question. "Take it back?" Since when did Vietnam ever belong to China? From what Chinese history and soap operas have taught me, the officials in the North never cared so much to acknowledge the people of the South, let alone claim it as a part of its nation. How could they claim Vietnam "back" if it was never officially part of China to begin with?

I can't quite put into words the alarming emotions that arose at this moment, but it was nothing compared to the shock that followed with my father's answer. He agreed to China's reclaim of Vietnam.

At first I questioned his position of patriotism, but then considered his own position. What could a 50-year-old engineer with two kids and wife in California do about government officials forcefully taking Vietnam back? Perhaps my father, like most people, have lost hope.

She has been shackled and raped so many times before. It would only be a matter of time before she was taken away and proclaimed a child of China. After all, who was going to save her now? Not when family is the first priority and fear of political disturbance is the pad lock on the door out. And then there are those of us who are too taken up by our riches and spoils to give notice to her troubles. We could put money into her economy for a brief moments before they too are collected by her captures. Offer her glimpses of family pictures and newly found wealth from afar to allow her to dream. But each night that she returns to her dark and desolate prison, the truth remains, she is alone.

beautiful mess

I was doing my weekly surfing of youtube when I came across a couple videos of Jason Mraz just walking around the streets of Paris and playing his songs for fun. What struck me the most about these videos was the simplistic beauty of his music and the quaint scenery behind him. Jason Mraz is the kind of man who simply wants to share the beauty of music to the world without wanting to the retribution or consequences of musical fame. Even he's performaning for millions of people, he has to struggle to keep his eyes open because most of the time, he'd rather just close them and be completely engulfed in the kind of "overwhelming beauty" that Lester discovered in "American Beauty". I'm really glad he is successful at what he does because very few people hwo live with his kind of care-free spirit actually have the potential of being financially successful in their lives. It's people like him who negate the presence of murders and thieves my parents are so fearful of. So yes, I find it hard to keep my guard pointed at paranoia all the time when such people can exist in a supposedly dark world. I don't know if my naviety is simply coming out of its shell tonight, or that my blind youth makes me neglect all signs of danger or that maybe I just want the kind of enlightenment that content people like Jason Mraz or even Deb have found through their simple lives.

Moving on to my very complicated life, ...I think I have a problem with boys. I don't know how to handle guys. It's like the minute they turn their affections towards me, I feel like I've just been targeted for a missile or torpedo. Me always taught me to return the kind gestures of others with equally kind gestures. However, that methodology has not been working very well for me in the male-female relationship aspect. I obviously have issues with boundaries. I'm like that doormat that people, particularly boys, freely walk on no matter what the circumstance. What a mess I am.

I want to be deeply loved by my significant other. I want chills and warmth all at once when he hugs me or gives me butterfly kisses. I want to feel hopeless when I get into a fight with him and feel closer when we make up. I want him to support me as much as I would support him. I want to feel as natural being with him as it is to be with Liza or Lydia or Bob. I want it to feel as natural as just being with myself, but better. I want to be challenged and feel excited about little things. I want him to be the bigger man when we're serious and a kid when we're having fun.

I miss Eric.