YOU CAN’T ROLLER SKATE IN A BUFFALO HERD

Posted on August 22, 2014 by hafong

Truths are so simple and true. Have you listened to Roger Miller’s song “You Can’t Go Roller Skating in a Buffalo Herd”? It sounds like a fun and silly song, but it has a lot of wisdom to it.

“Ya can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
Ya can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
Ya can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to

Ya can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
Ya can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
Ya can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to

All ya gotta do is put your mind to it
Knuckle down, buckle down, do it, do it, do it”

Go ahead. Sing a few bars. Sing it a few times. It’s easy and you can sound as silly as you want. It’s a catchy tune. Soon you will be singing/humming/dancing to it all day long. Then you start believing it. Wait, the light bulb moment is coming. It hits you – right between the eyes.

You go, Holy Shit! It’s true. I can’t go roller skating in a buffalo herd. I can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage. But I can be happy if I put my mind to it. Do it, do it, DO IT! So you sing at the top of your lungs, skip around the kitchen and pound your chest. Man, that feels good! Let’s do it again.

I know life is not that simple. But it is. Sometimes I make life hard for myself by insisting on doing things I can’t do – like roller skating in a buffalo herd instead of on the sidewalk. You know what I mean, don’t you?

NO PRETTY WOMAN HERE

Posted on August 9, 2014 by hafong

Photo from Amazon.com

It’s wonderful for me to find a writer like Anne Lamott. She writes of life as it really can get sometimes – life in all its nauseating details. Her writing makes me feel it’s okay to be human after all.

I don’t think that I am a negative person. Every day I try to find something positive and send my thanks to the universe. But to tell the truth, I feel my demons at times. They get the best of me on certain days and I have to let them out. Is that so bad?

Life is real and so are demons. Is it not better to acknowledge and accept that? At least I would not be denying the realities of my feelings. I would not denying myself. If I cannot accept and value myself, how can I expect anyone else to respect me?

Photo credit – http://blog.sweetiq.com/

I cannot espouse, mumble jumble false platitudes. It is just not me. It would be a waste of my precious energy. And so, I rave and rant, complaining, bitching about this and that – about Tom, Dick, and Betty. I know the uselessness of it all. Often, it is upon myself that the blame falls on. Who can blame the people – as they watch and listen to this mad woman throwing forth her angry words?

Certainly not me! I hear myself. I see myself. It’s not a pretty picture at all. At least I am honest. I have no cover ups. What you see is what you get.

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN TANGO

Posted on August 7, 2014 by hafong

Here it is, another hot summer day, something we all yearn for in winter. Here I am, in retirement in summer – one year and a week. If you are expecting me to crow or gloat about it, you will have to wait a long, long time. You can retire from a job, but you can’t retire from life.

The same applies to summer and vacations. You still have to do the breathing and eating thing. You still have to go to the bathroom. Sheba still sheds her hair all over the house. Meals have to be made, dishes to do. Then there’s laundry and the floor to vacuum. It’s no vacation at all. I have never deluded myself on that one!

I’m sweaty and cranky. My eyes feel crossed and stuck to the back of their sockets. I suspect I am a little difficult to live with. But the dishes are done, the floor vacuumed and a load of laundry out to dry. At last I’m sitting here, tapping out my words. What story do I have to tell?

Things are never what they seem. It is often more complicated than you planned and always take longer than you think. You just never know what turn your life will take.

I remember the time I went downtown to buy a broom and dustpan. I walked by Sound City and went in just to look. I came home with a Magnavox cabinet stereo and a portable TV. I had just started my very first real job at the Dept. of Indian and Northern Affairs. I didn’t have any money but the store was quite happy to do the financing.

I did get my broom and dustpan that I set out for. Later, I learned about the high interest I was paying on the TV and stereo and took out a loan from the bank to pay off Sound City. My impulsiveness did not stop with electronics. A little while later, I saw an ad in the paper about ballroom dancing at Arthur Murray’s. I phoned for an appointment to check it out.

I came out of Arthur Murray’s Dance Studio a few days later, having signed on the dotted line for x number of lessons. I signed a few more times after that, ending with a certificate saying I had completed the Bronze Program. I did not have the money. It was just shortly after my electronics purchase. Again, it was not a problem. They happily put me on the monthly payment plan.

It may have been foolish of me to have spent the money, for it was not small. But dancing was one of those things I had always wanted to learn. I never went to any school dances after Grade 8. I felt out of place in our small town so didn’t go to town hall dances either. Arthur Murray was worth every penny I spent there.

I fell in love with all my instructors. I felt like Ginger Rogers dancing with them. I did not enjoy dancing with my fellow students that much. They were clumsy like me! I unloaded my roommate problems on Mr. Woodhouse. The problems were bad and she had mental health problems, but that’s another story.

Mr. Woodhouse was very British and patient, had a willing ear and a good sense of humour. I went ga-ga over Mr. McDonald. I don’t think there was much talking on my part. I was probably demure and love sick. Alan was like a brother. He convinced me to participate in a dance competition. I was reluctant but gave in. We tangoed to Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina. It was a good experience which meant we didn’t win any ribbons.

I had no regrets over my electronic and Arthur Murray spending. I was young and trying out my wings. That was the proper time to fly and be a little daring. If I faltered, I had time to recover.

I could still fly. I have the time. Do I dare?

SAN FRANCISCO, NEW YORK, BEIJING

Posted on August 6, 2014 by hafong

I hear the kids playing from the daycare two doors away. Their shrill chatter and screaming are getting on the one nerve that I have left this morning. I remind myself that they are children and they’re playing, having fun.

The sky is overcast with the storm still yet to come. It is stubborn, not yielding, not wanting to let go of the rain. Days like these grate on me. They remind me of New York and Beijing. Seems like their skies are always grey with smog – especially in Beijing.

photo from google search

When you washed your face at the end of the day, the cloth ended up grey. And when you rinsed your clothes in the hotel sink, the water got sooty. Good thing I was only visiting then. I could not live in a place with no blue sky. At the time of my visit, before the Olympics, their freeways were lined with potted plants to absorb the pollution. Did they make any difference? Who knew but they tried.

There must have been some clear days and blue skies in New York way back in l969. The greyness was probably just in my memory and a false one at that. It was no fun being suddenly uprooted in your teens or at any age. I fought it and won in a sense. I came back to Canada by myself for university in Saskatoon at the end of the summer.

After I finished high school, my family moved to New York City where my mother’s side of the family lived. I spent a long, lonely summer there. My mother found work in a garment factory, my father at a restaurant. Sometimes my younger sister went with my mother to snip loose threads from the garment pieces. She was more happy go luck and flexible in nature than me. I didn’t remember how my little brother spent the days. I read books my cousin, Edmund took out from the library and listened to the radio.

To this day when I hear,

If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you’re going to San Francisco
You’re gonna meet some gentle people there

photo from Wikipedia

it reminds me of NYC, the heat from the sidewalks, the traffic noises, the drilling and hammering on Mott Street. Music and sounds can last a life time. Do you know that?

THE HAT OF IT ALL

Posted on August 5, 2014 by hafong

Yesterday’s storm never came.

I am waiting for it still. The sky is overcast. I am thinking that it’s a no show. I head out for my walk with Sheba without a hat. Of course, the sun comes out and beats down on us. I regret my decision immediately. Why do things always happen like that?

I’ve become fond of hats walking Sheba. In winter, it keeps out the wind and the cold. They say you lose most of your body heat through your head. In summer it keeps out the heat. When it rains, a hat can keep your head dry and your mascara from running.

Hats have become my friends. Besides being protection, they add a bit of fashion and character. I don’t worry about hat heads like I used to in my younger days. Rather they come in handy, hiding my bed head in the morning.

I’m no Princess Di nor the Queen. Sheba is queen enough for both of us. But I am glad that I have a little more hat flair than Elizabeth.

The sky is threatening. I hear a rumble. Is it thunder? No rain yet. It’s not 5 yet. Time enough to have a beer to cool off. Wouldn’t hurt to loosen up either.

WAITING FOR THE STORM

Posted on August 4, 2014 by hafong

Hot August day. I am waiting for the storm to erupt. I am not feeling kosher, not copacetic at all. In other words everything is not ducky. I am seeing life through jaundiced eyes. Do not worry! I am not blaming you or anyone else. Do not take it personally. It is just me, feeling the swirling energy around me.

There’s no need for sympathy nor pity. I am doing quite well. Perhaps I should be grateful for my kaleidoscope of moods and feelings. I understand from whence they come. Knowing myself enables me to understand others’ behaviour and feelings better. It makes life easier and we all need that.

I do not try to fix myself anymore. Believe me, I have tried so many times and in so many ways – self-help books, therapy, medication. At long last I have come to accept myself, giving myself permission to be all that is human. I no longer think of myself as being flawed. Some days will be better than others. Shit happens sometimes. That is life, as they say.

~~No more~~ There is less running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to overthrow my discomfort. Now, I am okay just to sit with my own storm, waiting for God’s. The sky is grey, the air is still. The birds are chirping. I’m waiting for their singing to stop. That is when the rain will fall. I’m waiting to hear the pitter patter above my head.

DREAMS, MEMORIES AND FATE

Posted on August 3, 2014 by hafong

I’m scribbling on the deck again. That’s what you do if you don’t have a laptop. It’s a perfect afternoon to sit out here and enjoy a beer. But I better do my writing first, if I want to make sense with my tenses. I wonder if it’s a Chinese thing – not being correct with my tenses.

The melody of the theme song from the Titanic ‘My Heart Will Go On’ had inspired me to write my post In My Dreams for Friday Fictioneers. Yes, I heard Celine Dione’s voice in my head, too. The music lifted me high above the clouds and I touched Mr. Moon’s face. It felt so real. It was magical.

You know what they say about dreams. If you can dream/imagine it, it can come true. Those are one kind of dreams. Then there are the kind that are harbingers of the future. I believe in dreams. I am very superstitious, like all Chinese. I cross my slippers to ward off ghosts.

My uncle and me on each side of the grandmother. My mother and elder uncle behind us.

My mother had such a dream the night before my accident. She dreamt of a one-armed girl. The next day I had my accident. I did not lose an arm, but it got badly burned. I had been playing in the courtyard with my uncle. He was only a year older than me. We were chasing and harassing the chickens when we were called in to have some sweet taro root soup.

We fought over the biggest bowl. I grabbed at it, knocking it over and spilling the hot, sticky soup over my left arm. It was winter and I had on a sweater with long sleeves. My mother had trouble getting me out of it.

I have memories of chasing chickens, being at the table and grabbing at the bowl, but none of the impact. Nature has a way of protecting us from unbearable pain. Now, even the memories are just a memory and not the real thing.

My arm would not heal no matter how many remedies my mother and the aunties tried. My mother said I was very well behaved. I did not fussed nor cried. I only said it hurt. Finally someone told my mother to take me to the city and see a doctor. In the early 50’s and in rural China, medical attention was not common.

My mother hired a bicycle taxi and took me to the hospital in Taisan, Guangdong. I remembered going through arches to the hospital and that our taxi driver was not very skilled. It took a few visits before my arm finally healed. It scarred half my forearm, from elbow down. Still, I was lucky I had full mobility of the arm.

In a sense, my mother’s dream came true or you can say that she was warned of impending danger. But what good did it do? It still happened. It was fate.

EVERY DOG AND WORD

Posted on July 31, 2014 by hafong

These summer evenings have been just perfect for leisurely strolls. The heat of the day is gone, but it is still warm. The air is calm, with just enough of a breeze. Oh, these lazy, hazy eves of summer!

You can literally say that everyone and their dogs are out. I keep a tight rein on Sheba. She’s an excited girl. Tonight she’s preoccupied sniffing every telephone pole and sign post. We are not moving along fast. It’s a step, step, then sniff, sniff. It is a bit annoying. We are not getting an aerobic workout by any stretch of the imagination. I have to remind myself that every dog needs its day. I let her sniff to her content. It’s her time.

It is the last day of July. I should be at my keyboard tapping out something profound. But the evening calls and we follow, past the church, its door lit like a beacon in the night. We come by the playground with the big pencil pointing upward. I know. I still have my writing to do. I will get to it when we get home.

I am here, trying to find those magical words. I’ve left it too late. They, too, have their time. I have to give them more respect and not take them for granted. Till tomorrow then, dear readers. Tomorrow. Good night.

THE DECADES OF MY LIFE

Posted on July 30, 2014 by hafong

It’s the end of July. The theme for this month on NaBloPoMo has been DECADES and today’s prompt:

What has been your best decade thus far: Your teens? Your twenties? Your thirties or forties or beyond?

There are no ‘best’ decades for me. Each period brings its joys and sorrows. I cannot remember a time free of angst or empty of happiness. You cannot have one without the other, as the song goes.

I felt isolation in my teens, though I didn’t know it as such at the time. We were one of only three Chinese families in our small town of 600. My father and his cousin ran the Chinese cafe in town. My mother knew no English. We did not socialize nor participate in community activities outside of the cafe or school.

I had school friends but I always yearned for connection with other Chinese people my age. I guess that was why I took the Greyhound Bus by myself to Winnipeg at 17. My desire was that strong that it overcame any kind of fear of going to a big city to stay with people I barely knew.

My 20s was full of confusion and turmoil, fighting for identity and independence. I dropped out of university, worked as a waitress, went to business school, became a steno, got fired from my first job as such. I got a better job at the Dept. of Indian and Northern Affairs. I left the job after 2 years to take nurses training. Got married and failed at that shortly after. Whew!

Those were my most memorable decades – the young years of growing and learning and becoming. How could I have ever done anything differently, not knowing the how of life? How could any of us? But I felt the pain of every sling and arrow of failure and disappointment. When did I learned to doubt and beat up on myself with the should have’s and could have’s?

My 30s and after are a distant blur, much like the stories of my life as a nurse. There’s not even any threads to grab onto. They are like the will-‘o-the wisp. Perhaps, with more unwinding and breathing out, they will come back to me. Then, there will be stories to be told.

I am content, finding more peace in the now decade. I have gained some wisdom. That’s no small thing. Looking back, I see that I have done remarkably well. I have lived life with confidence and adventure even when I was afraid. I have done the best I could.

LEFTOVERS AND THE ROLLING STONES

Posted on July 29, 2014 by hafong

Some songs have magic and it stays in your head. As Tears Go By is playing for me again. It is almost the evening of the day. I am showered and relaxed, sipping my tea. The rice is on the stove, boiling over. Why is it that I never catch it on time? Thank goodness for leftovers that go on and on – much like Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones.

I’m having a bit of trouble with my words today. Blame it on the heat. Blame it on the painful joints. Blame it on a creative block. I wonder if Mick has these problems. Probably not. His energy seems endless, his charm seamless and there’s no end to his creativity. Or so it seems.

No worries. Everyone has lapses. What goes up must come down. Spinning wheel got to go round. Great! Now I’m into Blood, Sweat and Tears. I’m dating myself at the same time. Better call it a night. After all, tomorrow is another day. I can write tomorrow.

Good night, Scarlett.

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity

Tag Archives: life