Doodles

I let it slip that there was one before and that she is now gone. He asks me how it was that she came to leave. And I said she starved herself to death. And I chuckled darkly at his reaction. And we talked about how she was a writer and how because of this I know that I am not a very good one, that I make way too many technical mistakes. I tell him that I left her when she was sick, when the end was coming, in sight, but of undetermined length. That she was ready to go after i left. That she cut the cords on her iv with scissors was how ready she was to go. And I talk about how on that day time stood still and that it still stands still for me. That part of me is still there, at that precise moment in time. Locked in ice. For you see, I tell him, it is not as if part of me left with her – although i am sure some of it did – but rather a good chunk of me has stayed behind in that time. that i’ve lost touch with that person i was then. that this is neither good nor bad, but just is. that from time to time i miss the person i was then. i miss him very much. right now i am missing him. but, then i tell him, just as i sigh, that it isn’t about me now is it. ...

I had such an amazing weekend after a hard and productive work week. Friday night was low key, spending time with my two daughters and watching a DVD. A perfect mood setter for the rest of the weekend while my wife had a well deserved girls night out. Saturday came and I was grateful to have the kids all to myself, during the week sometimes I only see them at the day’s bookends. Making them breakfast, taking them to starbucks which is right downstairs, listening to their stories. Played some games with my boy on the Wii and then it was Quesadilla time! Down to the tex-mex restaurant also right down stairs for a hearty lunch. Best thing after a big lunch on the weekend – family nap time! And man, was I out. Sunk deep into that couch. Barely woke up when my little girl came over to show me her latest masterpiece – a drawing of a dog and his food. ...

What a totally fucked weekend. I go through the entire work week deferring and compromising myself saying that I will make it up on the weekend. Sleep in. Read a book. Exercise. Fuck. Write a story. Learn Chinese. Play with my kids. And then the weekend comes and I never ever never ever never ever catch up. I just get more unsatisfied. Take this weekend for example. On Friday night I am supposed to meet my wife for a late dinner after work. Kind of low key. Be nice to go back home and get some after. When she text messages me that she will be playing majong, home late, thanks for understanding. I get home my two daughters are there, one is so tired she is throwing a huge fuss, she listens to me but i want to tune her out. ...

As I make the right turn towards the wudaoko subway station a bead of sweat slips off my forehead and hits the tip of my nose. Today is a warm day and it feels like summer is hanging on by a thread. Or a drop as it were. As I make that right turn I notice a young man – late 20s or early 30s – dressed in a baby blue adidas track suit. You know the kind with the matching top and bottom that used to be in vogue when my generation was in vogue and me personally was decidedly not in vogue. I’m not sure why i noticed him, foreigners in that part of Beijing in the late summer of 2009 are not an unfamiliar site. The track suit, yea, it was a little extreme but there are others wearing more extreme. Maybe it was he was crunching into a Big Mac at the time my eyes noticed him. In any case, I made my right and headed east. ...

I’m sitting with a class of high risers. A woman whose dark eyeliner I like for the effect she intended says she remembers when I visited taipei. I laugh a little and say i’ve never visited taipai. moments pass. we exchange stories. i thought she was interested in what i was saying, finding my comments insightful at best, funny at worst. which is when she says “you are so serious”. at which point i know it was with contempt at worst and indifference at best that she was feeling. I died a little inside. Which isn’t so abnormal for me but felt fairly painful as my self denial did not work. ...

At 67 and 65 years old, sitting on the beach in Sanya, and drinking Cuba Libres they felt pretty good about their lives. Two kids off to college, the older one to an ivy league school the younger one to a bit lesser school but in her own way. They had enough money they could live comfortably in one of their three small homes (Beijing, San Francisco, Sanya) and move between locations at their own pace and never be out of touch. It was time to relax, a true golden age. They had three favorite hobbies during these days. Golf, reading, and telling tales from their younger, somewhat wilder, and somewhat busier days. How their best decisions were also their most ill informed ones. If they knew more about real estate in Beijing, they would have never bought when they did, yet they did and now that accounted for 30% of their income. If they knew about the corruption rampant in his business, he would have never taken the job, yet he did and become the steady income person as the incorruptible one. So here they were, trading stories of their late 30s and early 40s. Kids were still high maintenance but they had ayis so they could go out on the town from time to time. They started telling stories of late night parties. How he used to overtly flight with certain girls. How she, in her own words, “used to fuck everyman in sight” at which he said “excuse me?” She said, “well, yea, you didn’t think you were the only one getting a little side action, did you?” And he said, he never got any side action. That he had been faithful all these years, that he was just flirty. That sometimes the flirts turned into something more but that he resisted acting out any of those desires. To which she said “you missed out”, smiled, and took another sip of her Cuba Libre. ...

Johnny unlocked his gold schwinn ten speed and watched his friends begin a new game of touch football. Johnny had to be home before 5pm or him mom would be mad at him. And if she got mad at him, she would tell his dad and then Johnny’s dad would be mad with him. And Johnny did not want this for he was afraid of his dad. The schwinn wasn’t new to Johnny anymore. It almost felt like an extension of his legs as he peddled away from the school yard and towards home. Just as he turned the corner he heard Mike yell “hut hut hike” and a new play started. Mike was a good player, one of the best in the yard. There was no one best player in this playground. No one stood out above the rest. As such none of these boys were destined for any athletic greatness. Not even a college scholarship. Johnny was everyone’s friend. He felt that everyone liked him just fine and he liked everyone in the yard. At the same time Johnny didn’t have a buddy, a best friend. Mike and Dave were best friends. Dan and Julio were tight. Johnny? He hadn’t even been over these guys’ house. Shifting down into second Johnny felt strong and powerful and as free as any 14 year old boy could. Soon, by the time they were 15, the tag football games would be left to the younger kids. Johnny new this, he was insightful in this way, and he wondered what he would do after school when the games ended. Johnny pulled up to his house and leaned his bike against the side of it. He was hungry and hoped his mom cooked something good for dinner. Good being things that were not bad. Like creamed tuna over bread. Or eggplant parmesan. Or any meal that included broccoli. Johhny had to eat every thing on his plate even though that hated broccoli made him feel like he would puke. But if he didn’t his mom might tell his dad and his dad would be mad and we’ve already covered that. A strange thing happened. Johnny opened the front door and no one was home. In fact there was nothing. No furniture, no pictures on the wall, no nick knacks, no people, and strangely enough no toilet paper. The place was empty. It was if Johnny’s family had moved out and forgot to take him. So Johnny sat down on the hardwood floor, wondered what he would do with no TV, what he would do for dinner, what the heck is going on. Then Johnny smiled. ...

I am in the small bedroom next to the other small bedroom in the house I grew up in. It is almost four in the morning and I can’t sleep thanks the sixteen hour time change from my adopted home of beijing. Somewhere else in the house it is likely that my mom is awake trying to deal with her chronic shoulder pain. Pain severe enough that her chronic knee pain is no longer so visible. I’ve done this trip a bunch of times – maybe 15 – so I should be used to the jet lag, but I am not and my brain won’t get quiet when it needs to get quiet. i suspect sleep will come soon, but then the alarm will ring at six and I will be on my way to seattle. funny the things that go through my mind during these sleepless nights. i keep pushing back the work thoughts because i think they will keep my up longer. i try to play a mental round of golf in my head to no avail. i think of old friends and old girlfriends. old girlfriends not in a longing way, but in a low key way. its weird being at my parents house. they seem to have an ok life all and all. not the life i would want, but i can see their comfort in it. i here the same stories over and over again. the same patterns repeating over and over again. my parents are getting old and have been getting old for sometime. they’ve both slowed down a lot and makes me wonder how much more slowing they have in them. i keep thinking i will take down their story, but i never do, and i guess it will just pass one day. maybe next trip. ...

He biked her to piano lessons from the time she was small until the time she wasn’t. He piano play inspired him and he forever held out hope that she would become a protégé. When he was young his mother used to play for him and he later learned she could have been a famous concert pianist but that she gave it up to start a family. To bear him. He tried to play but the gift did not stop at his generation, so he waited for the next. At first his daughter showed great promise or so said the piano teacher. With some hard work and years of effort, she too could be as gifted as her grandmother. The mother, for her part, was interested in the lessons as a way to improve her chances in getting into a top school and not for this silly dream. While it was true that the grandmother’s music talent did pass on to the granddaughter, the genuis did not. For genius requires more than skill; it requires passion and the ability to dream. For a while, it seemed the father’s dream and passion might be enough for both of them, but at last it was not. She got into a 2nd tier school and let her piano skill fade as she concentrated on her studies. The difficulty finding a job and a direction for her life after she graduated, only made manners worse. She married a man like herself – serious, kind, practical – which meant no piano in the house. When her father was entertaining guests on this cold winter day, she declined knowing she would let him down. He persisted. She played, hitting some tough notes, missing some transitions. She felt he let her down. He continued to asked her to play. Eventually, she had to stop. As she left for dinner, she wiped the tears away. Generations lost. ...

She had brought her lunch with her on the hike … a big bag of pre-cooked popcorn. It was both her comfort food and her means of exerting control over what was sure to be a disastrous lunch situation. Here’s the picture…two 60ish in law parents have brought along sandwiches of who knows what inside…it could run the gambit from butter and bread to spam. The one sure thing was it wasn’t going to be under her control. It was bad enough that she had to put on the happy daughter in law face for several hours just so she could get some exercise while fulfilling her sense of duty. Her sense of duty. It never ends. So she brought her own bag, a quite big bag of popcorn with her. At lunch she opened it anxiously and felt under control. Then the father in law unit asked for some. She joked that it was all hers. At least she appeared to joke but in fact she was dead serious. Her husband unit gave her that “just let it be ok” thread. She pleaded nicely with the f-in-law making up a new word for the f. Told the f that it was her treat and she wasn’t sharing…all in a good natured joking way. It seemed to work for a while but then towards the end of lunch the f asked again. The husband with the pleading eyes again. She gave in. A small handful to the f. She look at her husband and smiled. Her other planned duty item of the day she would leave unfulfilled. ...