Uncertainty

My dad used to say, "It'd be nice if you had a crystal ball so you could know where you'd be in 5, 10 years, huh?" This was in the beginning of my career, when it was still charming that I was moving back and forth across the country. First to Orlando, then back to Reno, then down to Phoenix, then back up to the Bay Area. By the third move, he stopped talking about the crystal ball and started talking about back pain.

But I've often thought about that, working in a business that is predictably unpredictable. Having watched dear friends get laid off, transferred, shift into one man banding, leave the business altogether, start their own endeavors...and that's all within the past year or two. I'm used to dealing with the unknown everyday at work; it's the nature of news. But these are seismic shifts in lifestyles and careers. Would we want to see them coming?

And then I think, at the end of it all, what will really matter? Really really matter in the big big picture. This weekend we went to the memorial service for my landlord's wife. A vibrant, healthy woman in her mid-50's who died suddenly in an accident. Most of the service was conducted in Mandarin, and truthfully, we'd only met her a handful of times. But it was overwhelming to think about how this beloved wife and mother of two college-aged girls was here one instant, and gone the next.

We both talked about it afterward. How neither of us is even close to prepared for the death of our parents or what we could possibly say in a eulogy without breaking down after every single word or how life could even dare to move forward when something like this happens.

It was so terribly sad and I couldn't even speak when I hugged my landlord as he stood next to his daughters to thank everyone for their condolences.

I just have to take a deep breath and shake off the paranoid fear that something horrible could happen at any second. I have to remember not to sweat the small stuff and to be so grateful for the enormous love and luck I have had in my life. And many, many things have not gone even close to my way, but in the big picture, in the forest, not the trees, I'm thankful.

But a crystal ball. No. I don't think I'd want one. Uncertainty allows me to live in the moment, and I need to do that so very much more than I do.

Grades

The closest I have to brothers and sisters are my cousins. Who are more like nieces and nephews. But one particular cousin sent me this email, reading in part, "so, vicky, i just got my report card for last quarter back and i got my first B's (insert dramatic music here). that sucks, right? asians shouldn't be getting B's. it's against the asian code of conduct."

Model minority much?

She was half joking, but later noted her parents are already going ba-freaking-nanas over her report card, telling her she "won't get into the good college and make the good money."

This cousin of mine is very smart, with a sense of humor that rivals many adults I've met. As in, she's actually funny. And she gets my jokes, which means she must have a plittty high IQ. Or maybe she's going to be "so annoy" like me when she grows up. Either way, I'm not too worried about this one. She's way ahead of the game and she's already seeking advice about study habits and the such as. Plus, I promise not to let her Asian parents, who I'm pretty sure do not read this blog, ruin her life. 

It's funny, because my parents never rode me about my grades or dating a white boy or pursuing a journalism career instead of becoming a doctor or engineer. They were pretty cool like that. My dad waited until I was out of college to wreck my life.

I remember being a very average student. Which, for Asians, means I got B's and a few A's. Until 9th grade. That's when my middle school had a huge "9th Grade Awards Ceremony." That was the exact title too. I went to public school. Obviously.

There were plenty of categories for the artists and athletes and various math and science whiz kids. But I chose the "9th Grade Awards" that I thought I could actually achieve. Perfect attendance and 4.0 GPA. 

To this day I don't know why, but I really wanted to go to the "9th Grade Awards Ceremony." Perfect attendance seemed easy enough, but there were no guarantees that cold and flu season wouldn't kick my ass. So I figured the sure thing was to get all A's. And I did. I don't remember anything about the ways and means of it, just that I did it. It was the first time I'd ever gotten a 4.0. Ever. And that lasted for the next 3 years, because, as they say, once you go black, you never go back. Until freshman year of college, when I got a B+ in Chemistry I and did so much extra credit in Chem II and Organic Chemistry that I think I earned my A- more for the beakers I organized and floors I swept than my actual test scores. Yes, all A's are like heroin. You'll do whatever it takes to get that next high.

So do I want that fate for my little cousin, who actually is not so little anymore since she's taller than I am. No. I definitely don't want her to be a slave to grades. Or hydrochloric acid. But I want her to be proud of what she does, to learn the value of working hard, and to know that she can be a total ass kicker in everything. The A's usually fall into place after that.

Now repeat after me, "I am Asian. There are two A's in that word. No B's." 

I just came up with that. Plittty special! I should add that to my Wikipedia entry on the Asian Code of Conduct.

Things I Now Know About My Vietnamese Parents

1. That their first meal in the U.S. was fried chicken at Travis Airforce Base. My mom says it was the best she's ever had. Made even more delicious because they'd just spent a year and a half in a refugee camp in Pulau Bidong, where they didn't have much protein, just canned beans and sardines. And half a cabbage every two weeks. 

2. That they were freezing in March in Northern California weather and couldn't believe people were walking around Travis AFB in short sleeves. 

3. That my mom's family has a burial plot in Vietnam. Where she may or may not want to be buried. I don't know for certain because every time I bring it up, she says, "I don't know. People don't talk about that kind of thing."

4. That the first time we had a restaurant meal with our sponsor family in Eugene, Oregon, they ordered my mom a cheeseburger and she could barely eat a third of it and thought it was astounding that they brought her a "doggie bag" to take home the leftovers. People just didn't do that back in 'Nam. 

5. That my dad was run over by an Army jeep when he was 9 and got a huge gash on his forehead that required stitches without anesthetic.

6. That he still has shrapnel in his back that from a bomb blast near his fox hole during the Vietnam War.

7. That they sold medicine on blankets on the side of a road, considered part of the 'black market' but it was more like a flea market. Still, they got busted and spent a day in jail. While my mom was pregnant with me. I've been inside a Vietnamese jail y'all! That has to add a little sump'n sump'n to my street cred. 

8. That my mom used to collect sheets of music lyrics and she was very hipster.

9. That my dad has been a hustler since he was a kid, when he would catch grasshoppers and crickets and sell them as pets or trade them for coveted glass marbles.

10. That they have no photos from their country wedding on a rainy day in 1976 in Vinh My.

Slices of life that have shaped who they are, and how they look at the world.

They do not, however, provide any insight as to why I don't like to close cabinet doors.

Parents

When I was growing up, my parents and I clashed not only on the generational level, but on the cultural one as well. I see my little cousins going through the same battle as they grow up Vietnamese American. They are dealing with the typical issues that all teens have with their parents, but add the layer of Vietnamese-y culture and expectations, and they are basically screwed for the next 10 years. 

Annoying things about Asian Parents:

They openly complain about how lazy/fat/impolite/quiet you are when they see their friends or relatives, thinking that will motivate you into becoming a busy/skinny/polite/loud child.

They don't say "I'm proud of you." 

Getting a report card full of A's is nothing to celebrate. It's something you do. Like brushing your teeth or breathing. 

They insist you not lick your fingers when clearly, it states "Finger lickin' good" on the bucket.

They say things like, "that's so annoy." 

They think it's okay to talk about you like you're not in the room. When you are. And you can HEAR EVERYTHING THEY ARE SAYING. 

They think you will break your neck if you take gymnastics lessons.

They disapprove of everything when you first suggest it, then later love the idea when they see other people's kids doing the same thing.

They want you to be a doctor or engineer.

They love to go to buffets.

They talk about how much everything costs and ask everyone else how much everything costs.

They want you to buy a house with a granny unit.