First visit to Grandma & Grandpa’s home (+ uncle’s wedding)

Dear Js,

Oh man. We’re finally back home. You have no idea. So happy to be home. And now that we’re finally over our jetlag, let me tell you how it went…

Act 1: Plane ride to KL. It started alright. We had tons of shit to mule from gate to gate but once we got on the plane it was okay. Since you don’t watch TV at home, you enjoyed the in-flight entertainment. But as the journey progressed things slowly fell apart. I think it might have to do with you two not being able to sleep well and us getting cranky. I think in total each of you only slept a couple of hours in the whole 20+ hours of travel time. And it wasn’t good sleep either. j, you were in your car seat, so you didn’t flop around but it wasn’t a comfortable place to get your full night’s sleep. J, you were with me with no car seat, so you were like a wet seal in my arms. I tried to sleep while you tossed and flopped and kicked our neighbor. Every couple of minutes, I would wake up and collect your legs, pull you back up onto the seats and pack your limbs in. It was torture. Eventually my body started hurting. But I did my best because I knew that if you didn’t get your sleep, the jetlag would suck later. Oh and don’t forget that we had to do all your bedtime routine stuff in the plane restrooms.

Then it got worse. Mama tapped me on the shoulder and said, “j peed her car seat.” I looked at her, drunk with stale plane air and she added, “I don’t have any more pants for her.” Jesus. OK at least we had diapers so I said go clean her and the seat up and I’ll take care of the pants. I asked for towels. Then I washed the pants in the plane sink as best I could and used the air vents as a dryer. After some time it looked passable. It no longer smelled like pee and it was semi-dry. Mama put it on you and I went back to watching American Sniper. Not long after, mama taps on my shoulder again. “She peed her pants again.” I went “WHAT? How is she peeing THROUGH her diaper twice!” Fine, we did the whole Benny Hill routine again. And guess what… you did it again, once more, right before landing.

And then right before landing, after mama cleaned your car seat, the flight attendants broadcasted on the PA: “Get back to your seats and fasten your seat belts for landing.” You were dead tired and curled up beside your car seat. Mama tried to move you but you said, “No. I don’t want seat belt. I want to go home.” Mama looked at me and I looked her and thought “well, my son here has his seatbelt fastened. Good luck, nice knowing you.” She tried to explain that we can’t go home because we are on a plane, we’re in the air, and we can’t just “go home”… and that we can’t open the door, and how we’re allllmost there, just a little longer…

“NOOOO! NO! NOO!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t want to!” That’s what you screamed for half an hour. “Noooo!” and “I DON’T WANT TO!” Any time anyone tried to help you, it would only make you scream louder and harder. You didn’t want a snack. You didn’t want songs. You didn’t want to watch a movie. You didn’t want candy or chocolate or Hello Kitty. You didn’t want to be in a plane. You didn’t want to visit grandma and grandpa. You were sleepy and you wanted to go home.

We died 37 times during the descent. Then right as the wheels touched the runway, you stopped screaming. And then 30 minutes of awkward silence and embarrassment as the other passengers funneled past us, and us grunting through our teeth how we’re never going to fly anywhere again.

Act 2: GRANDMA! GRANDPA! It was raining when we landed. Thick, warm, heavy rain, not like California’s sky tickles. We slugged to the curb. No grandma in sight. In her message earlier, she said she’d be circling. I told you guys to wait right there; I had a hunch where she could be. I walked down the road, toward a stack of parked cars. The cars were out in the rain and one of them looked familiar. It was far enough out from the shade and rainy enough that the traffic dude was too lazy to chase them away. I said screw it and ran into the rain. And there was grandma inside, waiting. Just like I remember the couple of times I came back to visit. But this time Grandma looked older. Grandpa wasn’t there, because the SUV could only fit 3 adults and 2 kids. I pointed to where you guys were and you two couldn’t stop hugging grandma.

They drive on the left side of the road there. The steering wheel is on the right side. Good news is I remembered how to drive there and we all made it to the house in one piece! As soon as you got out you yelled GRANDPA! We were surprised how open and happy you were, even if you haven’t met grandma/grandpa in person since you were babies.

Grandma told grandpa, “When I came out of the car, I didn’t expect 2 toddlers. Because when we talk on the computer, they don’t talk like toddlers. When I saw them I thought ‘so tiny!’ J wanted to jump and carry. So I carried. But I was surprised again! He was small but heavy.”

It rained throughout almost the whole day, every day. You two played outside almost every day.

Act 3: Fun and games…

We all seemed to escape jetlag, except j. You woke everyone up at 4 am, then went back to sleep at 7 am. You were also randomly cranky over the next few days. You’d lose your shit and scream, then fall asleep.

“I knew I forgot something…” I didn’t like when mama said that. She said she looked everywhere but could find your shoes, J. You know how we forgot your shoes? Because I shined it. I saw it sitting on top of your suitcase and I thought, I’m going to shine your shoe along with my shoe. I worked hard to give it a nice, good shine. I let it dry overnight. And I forgot to put it back in the suitcase. And since mama already crossed it off her list, she didn’t check for it either.

But there was a silver lining. We got to have some fun out of the house. We got to find you kids a play area and you got to ride a boat and feed fish.

Grandma/grandpa were in Phuket for the beach wedding. We opted out because no way we were going to put everyone back on a plane after just getting off a 24-hour flight. I was a little nervous about driving because my license expired (and after 3 years, they want me to make a new one). I said no thanks and I used my US license and hoped I remembered enough Malay to talk myself out of trouble if I got stopped. Good thing it was raining, because lazy corrupt cops prefer to avoid work or standing in the rain. Interesting fact: Singaporeans are so used to (and sick of) corrupt Malaysian traffic cops that, when stopped, they toss money on the ground and drive off. It’s like saying to the crooked cops, “I know what you want. Would you rather stop and collect the money, or chase me and give me a ticket? Just take the money.”

It also gave us a chance to sneak out and buy a dress for Grandma. Mama had seen grandma trying on an old dress that she didn’t feel confident in, so she wanted to do something nice for her. She found the perfect dress for a great price. While we ere out, we also found a nice white dress shirt and 2 nice ties for grandpa. I made my best guess on his shirt size: 16.5″ neck. My neck is 15.5″ The whole time I was trying to guess if it’s possible that his neck is 1″ wider than mine, even though he is a few inches shorter. I did notice that he had 39-40cm collar shirts in the closet, but he tended to wear his shirts large. I pulled the trigger on 16.5″ and in the end, it fit perfectly! We were sad that my bro didn’t dress them up. It’s okay, big bro to the rescue. Grandma liked the dress so much, she picked it to wear on her most important event – hosting the KL banquet. She moved her now 2nd-most-favorite dress to the Malacca dinner.

Mr Fix-it. After a few days of being there, I uncovered a couple of problems. Problems that have grown out of neglect, like weeds. Usually, I don’t care about other people’s problems, even if it’s my mom’s or dad’s. But this time, the problems looked like they could cost me much more money in the future if I didn’t fix them soon.

When I got there, the situation was like this: my parents had a joint bank account, and my mom had given up on the finances. She left everything up to grandpa because she had given up and was “tired of arguing”. Meanwhile, my dad was mismanaging the finances. This pissed me off, because that meant they were pissing away my money, because their finances comes from my hard-earned money, which I send them. I was angry, but I couldn’t let my anger show because I had to fix it.

So I tried my best to quietly listen to each side of the story. I had to figure out what my mom thought the problem was. Then I listened to what my dad had to say. As you can expect, they were not arguing about the same problem. Each wanted something different and the other person could’t understand it. But it’s okay, I understood it well enough to try to find a solution. For my mom, I needed to get her back in control of the finances. I also had to figure out a plan to transition them from all their properties into a smaller, more manageable and more appropriate post-kids home. For my dad, I had to coax him to be okay with surrendering the finances (a very raw/sore point for them, especially since they always quarreled over this when they worked in the same business together), and be more open to the choices of houses my mom wanted.

So for my dad, the main reason I found out for his behaviors is an emotional one. What I concluded was, after retiring, he has felt failure and an embarassment. In his former life, he equated success in life with success in business. But now that he’s retired, having no business means life is a failure. He was making no income, had nothing to do, and he felt helpless as the provider of the family. This can be humiliating for a man. Since I last remembered him, his postured had changed — his head now hung low and forward. He trudged around like a defeated tortoise with scoliosis. His was like he was just waiting to die. So I figured, I need to give this man something to feel like a man again. And for him, it meant being able to provide for his family again. The reason that the finances have always been a sore point with mom is that he hates admitting whenever they have to “budget.” Because having to budget means he hasn’t been as successfuly as he wants to be as a provider. I thought okay, but as long as you’re using my money, you have to budget. Because there’s a limit to how much money I can send. The only way for them not to have to budget, is if they started making money again. Which meant I had to figure out a business for him. And, I had to leave him motivated enough to drive it when I was no longer there. It’s hard enough to start any business. But it is even more challenging when you’re like a sad toothless lion in a zoo. Nevermind, I paused that thought to go back to mom.

So with mom I realized that their house was too big for 2 old folks. They have wealth in assets but no cash. Even though they want to downgrade and buy something cheaper, they can’t buy because they have no cash for the transition, and all their money is locked up in houses they need to sell first. And I can’t cover the cash because I just drained my bank accounts to buy our house a few months ago. The other problem is the houses my mom wants (which I agree with) are not what my dad wants. My mom wants a new property in a good location, something that will appreciate, and not fall apart. My dad had fallen in love with a run down condo rented by college students. Grandma couldn’t understand why, but I discovered that it was because grandpa fell in love with the vision of waking up in the morning to the view of the golf course from the balcony. He envisioned having his breakfast, doing his daily stretches, and walking downstairs and across the street to play a round of golf. He was so in love with that vision that he overlooked everything else about the place.

So I needed to solve two things: coming up with cash to buy their next house, and having my mom and dad agree to buy the same house. Money requires a long-term solution so that will have to wait. But to solve the house choice problem, I conspired with my mom to tell my dad that I’m interested in investing in Malaysian real estate. I.e., I want to invest in the next house they buy; so as an investor, I want them to choose me a house that will be a good investment. This neutralizes their emotional conflicts, because they love me more and they can now think of the house as an investment, rather than a personal preference.

Now back to money. I can make more money, but I don’t have enough time to come up with lots of money fast. At least, not enough time to come up with the sum of money needed to buy a house. But then I thought, wait a minute, I might not have time, but my retired parents do. So what would be perfect is if I could could set it up so they can start making money again. First, I approached my dad. I was probing and exploring, asking him about all the people with active businesses that he hasn’t burned bridges with. No good. Turns out he’s like a hermit now, since he’s in his “waiting to die” sulky mood. And being a businessman all his life, he is unemployable. But still, not all hope is lost. He had amassed much experience from his business life, and his experience is valuable — but only if he can sell it. Meanwhile, he explains that one of my uncles (the only one we’re still close to) is doing “quite well” selling water. I became curious. I asked further. This was on our car ride down to Legoland. A few hours later, I connected the dots and said hey, what do you think of packaging up uncle’s biz and selling it as a business opportunity?

On paper, it sounded like a good opportunity: it was a legit biz with solid cash flow, with my uncle as living proof. And you don’t need a secondary school diploma to do it. It was perfect for people who wanted to make extra money on the side, as a second source of income. For my dad, it was no risk to start, he didn’t have to deal with blue collar contractor crooks and thieves like in his last biz; he could work as much or as little as he wants; and it leveraged his strengths and experience. For my uncle, it would help make him more money, and expand the biz he’s already passionate about. And how can you say no to making more money (especially since he’s still supporting his 3 kids). As for me, I said I’ll provide any software/technology/internet solution they need for free. My dad asked ok how do you want to split it? 3 ways? (When he asked this question, I knew that I got him hooked. Because it meant he was seriously considering it.) At first I said nah that’s okay, just do 50/50 with the 2 of you. Because I didn’t want the complication of reporting extra income from Malaysia. But in the end I said, “How about tell my uncle (his brother in law) 33/33/33, but you keep 67?” It’s the same anyway, since I send them money for their living expenses. Besides, if this takes off, I can export them my time/skills instead of my post-tax money, and they can earn money by themselves AND make as much as they want.

Anyway, that seemed to be moving along and my dad looked like he was starting to get color back into his skin. I knew he was feeling good about it when, the next morning, he suggested that mom opened her own bank account. I said okay, I’ll send you the money as usual, and you can deposit 50% of what I send to her account. I was ready to negotiate again, if he resisted the idea. But he surprised me by saying, “No, just send her 100%.” I guess he was really committed to being a provider again. I asked him if he wanted me to tell mom about his new enterprise or keep it a secret. I asked not because I really cared, but because, whatever the answer, it was a way to commit him further to the project. He asked me to keep it a secret. So I played along.

Alright, I was on a roll now! Next was to see if I could help my mom start a biz or make more money. If two of them try something, that’s more pots on the stove and more chance for success. Even if one of them succeeds it will be good enough. But it would be awesome if each of them get their own thing going. It will keep them busy and keep their brains active, and it could even encourage healthy competition between them. But it wasn’t easy. My mom had many of the same problems my dad had – she worked in family biz, no employable skills, employers want young people, etc. The most important thing I think I managed to do was to get her to consider looking for options again. And on the real estate side, I got her to agree to start house hunting again. She had previously abandoned it because of the conflicts with my dad. But now, under the guise of “looking for investment property for our son,” she is free to find the house she wants without having every option shot down and deadlocked by dad.

Yeah so apart from the wedding, that’s what kept me busy there. And I also checked up on my bro. He seems to be doing okay. But I had reservations. Because it’s easy to feel good when things are going your way. What I worried about is what happens when the sun stops shining.

Elevator story. This happened on our last day at Legoland. But it happened at the hotel as we were checking out. We were on the same floor as my bro and his wife. And we happened to finish packing and reach the elevator at the same time. The elevator was almost full, but we managed to squeeze in and it didn’t beep. Then it stopped at the 1st floor, the door opened and the elevator buzzed. Nothing we did made it close or move again so we pushed the Alarm. 15 seconds later, a voice said, “It’s too heavy.” There was a 1.5 foot area on the 1st floor outside the elevator. But only 1.5 feet because a floor-to-ceiling shutter. So we started to transfer our luggage onto that ledge. Our bags weren’t enough. My brother hopped onto the ledge to test. The buzzer stopped. He hopped back and the other passengers offered their bags. We stacked them on top of ours on the ledge. The voice came on again, “It’s not moving because it’s too heavy. One of you have to step out on the 1st floor. There’s enough space for you to stand. We will come and get you later. Don’t worry, we’ve done this before. It’s safe.” We tried more bags. No luck. My brother hopped out. It stopped buzzing. The door started closing. I stopped the door. “Wait!” I said. I started pulling the stacks of bags back into the elevator. Did no one see the danger in balancing a person in a 1.5-foot space next to stacks of bags, next to an elevator door? The door started closing againd and I stopped it. I pulled all the bags back so he had space to stand. The door started closing again and I stopped it. “Turn around.” He turned around so his chest was to the shutters. I asked him if he was okay and he said yes. I let the doors close that time. I thought about how guilty I would feel if anything happened to him, and how cruel it would be if his new wife lost her new husband like this, days after their marriage. We got off at the Lobby. They sent the elevator back up and brought my brother down, smiling like a clown. Everyone who was in the elevator applauded him like a hero. I asked him if the elevator door was open behind him. He said it No, it was closed. But it was pitch black. My mom said next time just let it go; take the next elevator.

The rest of the trip will be in the pictures/videos below.

Act 4: Return to California… by plane again. j: “I want water.” Mama goes ‘here’ and opens your water bottle for you. We should know better what happens when you open a straw on a plane… because we already made that mistake before. We even told many friends about it, and warned other parents or soon-to-be parents about the dangers of opening a straw bottle on a plane. The problem is that the bottle was sealed with sea-level pressure. Meanwhile, airplane cabins maintain a slightly lower-than-sea-level pressure. So opening any sealed vessel results in a release of pressure. And opening a sealed vessel with a small opening (straw) results in a jet of fluid. PSHHHHHHHH. As a parent, we survive by looking at the brighter side of things. So we went ‘phew’ it’s only water. Our neighbors were not parents. They tried their best to stab us with dirty looks and snarls. Mama offered apologies. “It’s just water,” we try to console. It didn’t make them feel better, so we shrugged and stopped trying. J, you watched the movie Rio 5 times, giggling at the same gags every time. When you got tired of that, you watched Minions. You made me skip over the “scary” parts.

We did better this time, no drama on the plane flights. But we didn’t make it home without drama. j lost it in the car ride home:

I gave our drive a big tip because I felt so bad for her.

Back home sweet home – jetlagged. You monkeys woke up at 4am after going to bed. Then you went back to sleep at 7am and slept til 4pm the next day. Which made sense because that was 8am Malaysia time. Kimi was a disaster at our friend’s home, but she was happy to be back with us. She stayed under the covers with us until 3.30 PM. And she didn’t even have jetlag. Even after we woke up she refused to get out of bed to eat or pee or sniff under the table for food.

The next day, mama crashed early after breakfast. She asked me to take over. j, you fell asleep during lunch after shoveling “Mac’n” into your face. Then you, J, insisted that you weren’t tired. But you fell asleep on the couch reading a Garfield book grandpa gave you. A few seconds later you started giggling in your sleep. I took a nap shortly after.

For the next few nights, you kept waking up after midnight. Like wide awake, asking for milk. And you’d sleep til 10 or 11 in the morning. It was like whack-a-mole again. It was very frustrating because mama and I hadn’t had privacy for 1 month at my parents’ place, and even now that we’re finally back in our house you two kept interrupting us.

And now that we’re home, both of you say, “I miss grandma and grandpa” and “I want to go back to Malaysia.” You monkeys.

Thoughts about the trip. I hate my brother for pulling all of us all the way over there. But if not for him, who knows when you two would have visited Grandpa/Grandma. And you two had a great time with them so you have my brother to thank for that. And mama for convincing me that it missing my brother’s wedding wasn’t an option.

Sadly, I didn’t get any work done in Malaysia. I couldn’t get comfortable enough to write or code. I have been trying to figure out why. Maybe there was always something happening or it was too hot or there was not enough quiet or something. Or maybe I underestimated how important it is to have your designated work space (or work routine). I wonder if I lived there long enough, I could get used to it and be as productive as in the US.

But being there (and noticing the difference after returning) did make me feel grateful. Even though it’s a 3rd-world country, Malaysia is advanced. But as I was telling a coworker, it’s advanced like how the Greeks were advanced. They were advanced enough to build a computer like a modern calculator. But the difference in how we are advanced is we do it with semiconductors and transistors, while they do it with mechanical parts. Doing most things in Malaysia took more effort. And because of the effort, you feel a sense of accomplishment just for arriving somewhere ing in one piece. Everything is an adventure.

Like for example, when we went looking for a dress for grandma. Because we were in Malaysia, we somehow suddenly became okay driving for over 30 minutes to get anywhere. But we had no choice. Online shopping hasn’t caught on yet. So we had no choice but to drive far because you can’t buy a dress for a wedding just anywhere. And when we got there, we spent another 15 minutes circling for parking. Then at the store, there weren’t many choices. We had 2 candidates to pick from.

Now contrast that with how things are over here in the US today. The whole decision process is different. Just a few days ago in Malaysia, we were willing to go through all that trouble. But now that we’re back here, no way. Forget driving for 10 minutes, let alone 30. Forget going to the mall. Let me reach for my laptop and open Amazon.com. Make it “Show me only the dresses that have same-day shipping.” Don’t even bother me with next-day shipping anymore. Then, order TEN dresses. Because we can keep the one we want and return the other 9 for free.

So there is no question that life in the US is more comfortable, more efficient, more convenient, etc. But the trip was still fresh in my memory, and it made me wonder: But is that better? Because I wasn’t sure.

Because over in Malaysia, true… you had no shortage of tangible things to worry about. And because of that, you are thankful every day — when you survive the traffic, or the heat, or false imprisonment by the corrupt police. It keeps your mind alert. You don’t have room to worry about intangibles. But over in America, it’s comfortable. It’s convenient. If you have a decent job, there are few tangible things left to worry about. So your mind wanders to worry about intangible things. Like the future. Or making more money, having nicer things, your career, or your life. Or maybe even… saving the world. In America, there’s time to worry. Like wondering about what you’re missing out on, or what your life could have been. In 3rd-world countries, many people are just happy to be alive, have good food on the table and good health to spend time with their family. But here, being alive isn’t enough. You feel like you have a choice in how your life will be. Because of that, you want to make sure you choose the best life possible. And you’re unhappy whenever it doesn’t work out the way you want.

New developments

At the eye doctor, j was reading J’s eye chart. She’d ask, “What letter is this?” and j would answer. She got frustrated and switched to pictures.

J, you beat mama’s book record. Abu used to complain to lil’ mama, “What’s the point of buying a book if you would finish it in the car before we reached home?” Well, during this trip, you broke her record. You finised your books while standing on the stroller board, before we could even PAY FOR IT. At the checkout lane, we asked you, “You just finished reading this. Are you SURE you still want to buy it? We can get something else, you know.” But you insisted, “No I like this one.” Okay…

Generosity in Malaysia was painful and I was the victim. It’s because everyone tries to be super nice. Every time we order something, grandma and grandpa orders even more. “You haven’t had this in a while… and how about this? Or this? You like this, don’t you? OK we’ll take it all.” It’s useless to protest. And guess who suffers? Remember that grandma remembers our family to have 2 growing boys. But this time around, our family is 2 grandparents, one mama who was trying to still fit into her dresses, and 2 toddlers. So all the generosity with food just ended up being painful for me. I was the one who had to eat everything — all the excesses of good intentions and kindness. All because I couldn’t bear throwing good food away. Yes, I ate it all, even after it hurt.

Kimi ate auntie J’s honey ham while she was staying with her. Auntie J didn’t want it right away, so her husband left it on the table for her. When she came back, it was gone. She said they started blaming one another because they weren’t sure who did it. But then they agreed that the 2 humans could be trusted to tell the truth, and that there’s no way their dog Owen could have been so quiet. Because she was in the next room and she heard no sound at all. So even if they couldn’t believe it, by process of elimination they found Kimi guilty. Then mama told her about Kimi’s ninja muscle-up technique, where she can tiptoe onto high places and do quiet pull-ups to get on. She perfected this technique after years of us busting her for hopping on our table.

GPS replaces dad. This was a little bittersweet moment that made me notice how life has changed. This time around, Malaysia has received full Google Maps coverage. You could even download the maps to your phone to use offline, transforming any smartphone into a GPS. Malaysian roads have always gotten crazier and crazier, and before this, the way I got around is with my dad’s instructions. Because he used to drive all over the valley to see customers and sell. Whenever I wanted to go somewhere new, I’d ask dad and he’d whip out a white sheet of A4 paper and a 2B pencil. He seemed to always have these 2 things handy. Then he’d draw a map with directions for me. The map was not to scale, but it had all the landmarks and street names I needed to find my way. They always worked, which was fortunate, because if they didn’t, I would end up somewhere that wasn’t on the map dad drew.

But this time, I thought I’m so clever. I set up my phone with the maps and GPS. When we headed out, my dad would come over with a pencil and paper, and I’d say, “It’s okay, I have GPS.” I only caught it the 2nd time it happened. And I thought, wow. GPS made me an asshole, and it stole away this dad moment forever. From this day forward, kids will no longer have that pencil and paper map moment with their dads — because of the wonders of technology. It made me wonder about what else technology steals from us, from our childhoods, right from under our noses. They say that any successful technology must destroy or make obsolete entire old industries. Like how automobiles destroyed the horse-and-buggy industry. But now I’m starting to see that technology destroys more than that.

Grandpa taught you a secret handshake. You two can be heard repeating the instructions: “Back to back. Thumb to thumb. Turn around… and shake!”
J: “Sometimes my cousin does it and and goes away and laughs without shaking.”

When we were there, grandpa presented you with 2 boxes of Sunday comics he had been collecting. These are comics that only come in the paper on Sunday. I first found out about it on the first Sunday we arrived, when grandpa/grandma were at Phuket. My uncle (grandma’s brother) had bought us the Sunday papers, because he knew grandpa was collecting it. He didn’t want grandpa to miss a piece of his collection while he was away. You love them. j sees how much you like them and sneaks them away to read. I thought you’d scream at her but being with grandpa put you in a strange mood. You saw j looking and you said, “j please don’t open the orange box, or they will get messed up…” Then you said good night and went to bed.

This was how much you loved grandpa and the comics. One night, it was late and you were delirious. We let you stay up because you were having a blast with grandpa and the comics. You laughed til you cried and screamed and didn’t know what to do with yourself. After a while, mama got suspicious because you asked her, “Mama, where is the dirty laundry?” It turned out, you laughed until you pooped your pants. But even then, you were still laughing maniacally. But when you sat on the potty you felt bad and blamed grandpa for making you poop your pants.

We lost power at grandpa’s house for 10 minutes. Now both mama and I used to grew up in a place like this. But we had apparently forgotten. Because we had so much drama in that 10 minutes. Mama hadn’t showered yet, we were brainstorming what to do. Where were the candles? Do our neighbors have lights? Do we open the windows or try to keep the air-conditioned air in? Did someone cut the power? But look the streetlight still has power! We did that for 10 minutes, like chickens clucking around… and then the power came back on. We looked at each other and silently want “Oh” and went back along to our usual business.

Curious convos

j: “I have a pet sun to shine on everyone.”

j, trying to climb ladder in Kids Paradise: “Mom I need SUPPORT.” Mama thought it was funny you used the word “support”.

J: “Sometimes when I have feelings, it’s hard for me to say things.”
You said this after you tried to say goodbye to the little girl at the wedding banquet. She was younger than you but she kept coming over to you and j to nudge you to play with her.

j was a saint long car ride home from Malacca.

Uncle: is your best brief friend Aunty?
j: no my best friend is J

J: “Can I go play with my friends now?”
Me: “Yes, but they’re not your friends. They are your cousins. They’re your family.”
J: “I’m not used to calling them cousins.”
Me: “I know, because your cousins are in Malaysia”
J: “And none of them are in America.

j: I can’t sleep, my hair is wet
Mama: j I didn’t wash your hair today
j: Oh, I guess I can sleep then

J: j can we try to be nice now? I’m tired of being mean.

j: Grandma catches my kisses.

Grandpa’s poop is up, grandpa’s poop is down, grandpa’s poop is spinning around.
This came from grandpa trying to make you laugh after tricking you into riding The Serpent at Legoland.

[Day-oh…]
j, smiling: “That’s grandpa’s banana dance breakfast song.”
Every morning grandpa did his banana dance. Harry Belafonte.

The banana song has infected all of us:


Grandpa even makes people play it at restaurants:

Coconut song in California:

J: “j can we try to be nice now? I’m tired of being mean.”

J: “Do you think I farted or just made a sound?”
j: “Just made a sound.”
J: “I farted! With gas!”

J: “The thing I don’t like about going on walkways too much is I get too used to them… and then I don’t feel like walking”

J, at the airport waiting to fly back:
“I hate flying long distances. But I like visiting people who love me. I can’t stop thinking about grandpa and grandma. When will we see them again? I want to see them everyday. I don’t want to leave them. I wish they would come with us. I want to stay with grandma grandpa. But I also want to stay with you. Awww! I never get to see them for so long. (Me: “wasn’t it nice to see them once in so long?”) Yes but I miss them now. I feel like this is the day where I have nothing. (Me: “Huh?”) I mean that I have to leave today… I wish they could come with us. I also wish I could pet Kimi.”

This isn’t a curious kid convo, but a strange convo I had with my brother’s Godmother at the wedding banquet. I passed her table coming into the banquet hall, so I stopped to say hi. Unlike when I met her earlier at the church, she didn’t smile. She just held my wrist and said, “I have something important to tell you.” I joked, “Um… wow. That sounds serious!” Her children laughed. But she didn’t. She had a serious face. I said, “OK, I gotta go, kids and stuff…” and hurried away. Later, I was at the bathroom after helping J pee. On the way out, I bumped into her again. She blocked my exit and held me by the hand. Then she looked me in the eye and said, “You must get out of California. Move away! I didn’t think anything much about it until you told me about the drought this morning.” I stared at her; I had run out of witty statements. I must’ve had a look of disbelief, because she continued, “God will give you a second sign. And then you will know. But remember I told you this.” I shoved my son in front of me and said, “Hold on Joshua! Alright alright slow down, I’m coming” and ran away. Later, I was with mama and my parents, saying goodbye to our guests. On the way out, she said, “Remember what we talked about.” She raised her index finger, “When we bumped into each other in the bathroom, it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.” Then she vanished into a cloud of bats. Mama looked at me suspiciously, “… in the bathroom… meant to be?” I said, “I’ll have to explain later…”

This week in pictures

OK. Let’s get one thing straight for this letter. I won’t be able to share all the pictures I have from the trip. There’s just too many this time. It would take me another month just to attach all the pictures here. So I’m going to link you to the albums here for J and here for j. And I’m only going to share a couple here.

Rain rain rain rain rain

Morning playtime

Bromance duet

“Fishy time”

Grandpa wrestle

Crazy string

Durian

Camera

Christmas Karaoke – they made mama sing a Spanish song:

I came down to find this happening:

Video games with cousins:

Elephant sugar cane

Thomastown:

Legoland:

KLCC splash pool

Front camera test – see you later!

Welcome back!

J’s an adrenaline junkie now, after The Serpent roller coaster.

Interesting things
Truck feeling lucky – tows boat over bendy bridge. Stress-test bending a passenger airplane wing. Seeing the world after 44 years in prison. Space X’s Falcon 9 first landing. Another view. 3D game Quake on Oscilloscope. “Sky ladder” – Cai-Guoqiang’s tribute to his grandma’s 100th birthday. 1 in 4 auto accidents involve cellphones. Falcon divepunches duck’s neck. In the OR after the first human heart transplant (National Geographic best picture of 1987). George Saunders: How to tell a good story. 600 million years ago, one mutation transformed our predecessors into multi-cell organisms. Become superhuman just by learning to breathe… in the cold.

I watched the movie Ex Machina on the plane. I was initially interested because it looked like an artsy movie with a girl robot. I was surprised that it ended up being a good movie, which did something fresh with the AI theme. It affected me emotionally. Not many movies do this these days. But after watching this one, I found myself thinking, revisiting scenes from the movie in my head, reconsidering the conversations and wondering about the future.

Louis CK: on how he discovered the secret to being funny from George Carlin, after failing for 15 years. Nice insight on how success usually happens — after a lot of work and after many failures. It’s not for everyone because it’s painful. It takes a special kind of person with persistence. The biggest thing that stuck with me after watching that is Carlin’s lesson of throwing it away. Do your best work, make your best stuff, then throw it away. Don’t hang on to it. This forces yourself to do better, to be more vulnerable, or to be brave enough to go deeper. It wipes the slate clean so you can ask, “What do I really want to say?” I’m now thinking I should impose a time limit on how long I spend on projects. E.g., 1 year from the day an idea is conceived. If I get no traction after working on it for 1 year, throw it in the trash, and either 1) abandon it or 2) start over from scratch. Or should I be more aggressive and say 6 months?

What I’m listening to now, with mama while she’s working on her 2000-piece puzzle in the living room: Julian Bream: My Life in Music. It was declared by Graham Wade as “the finest film contribution ever to the classic guitar.”

Concealed carry perspective:

As a gun owner, you have to be cool-headed, moreso than the police ever have to be.
And you do not ever run around pretending to be the police while carrying a gun because then shit like this can happen.
You do not start shit, act aggressively, flip the bird, roll your eyes, talk shit, or even raise your voice. To anyone. Ever.
A combat instructor (who happened to be Buddhist and a Marine) once said to me: “From now on, when dealing with (ed.) crazy / possibly violent people, you will lose every argument. You are always wrong. You are sorry for impinging on their day. You will apologize and apologize again. You will back the fuck down. You will put your tail between your legs. You will let them talk shit about your ladyfriend. You will let them call your mother a bitch and a whore and your dad a bastard. You have no ego. ”
“You do all this because if you are the one to start a fight, by default that fight now has a gun in it, and if you start losing, you’re going to pull it and kill him. And even if you don’t go to jail because you could convince the jury that it was self-defense, you’re going to have to live with the fact that you could have saved someone’s life and yet you let your ego kill someone.”
“You are not the police, so don’t act like them. Though all of you [civilians] are better shots than the police, you do not have a union plus free lawyers protecting you if you screw up.”
ed: He also said: “but after backing down and trying to apologize, if at any time you then feel your life or that of a loved one is in danger, put three rounds into his [cardiothoracic] vault, call the police, [ed: call a lawyer too], give a statement, go home, and sleep like a baby. You did all you could for your attacker, and he was the one that made the final decision to kill himself.”

“The end of the world is coming! Repent and be saved!” That is a popular message these days. A friend asked me this: “Do you reckon that people use all this “fire and brimstone” type messages because it makes them feel..important?”

I answered:

Well, yes, somewhat. But it’s deeper than that. First, if you want a good insight into how Christianity (or any other religion or cult) reprograms people (as well as who is most susceptible), you can check out the classic by Eric Hoffer: The True Believer – thoughts on the nature of mass movements.

The “fire and brimstone” messages are the flavor-of-the-month theme the church is peddling. That message can change from Sunday to Sunday. How that message got to the masses is via a sophisticated system that makes up present-day religion — it has evolved and been refined to smooth perfection over thousands of years.

So first, let’s talk about the message. Different messages work best at different times. “End of the world” messages work best when times are bad. E.g. when there are natural disasters, financial disasters, wars, etc. We as humans find it very difficult to accept that bad things happen for no reason. Like if a baby dies (or worse, murdered), we can’t believe that it was senseless. We NEED to believe that heaven exists for this innocent baby. We NEED to believe the there is a God, who had a higher plan. (By the way, this “Problem of evil is one of the classic philosophical problems with Christianity, and one that nudged me on my path away from Christianity.)

Anyway, in general, when anything terrible happens in the world, people ache for an explanation. And a popular explanation is GOD IS ANGRY. Just like how cavepeople thought lightning and floods mean the spirits are angry. Why no fish? The river gods are angry. Why no harvest? The harvest gods are angry. Why no rain? The rain gods are angry. Why do we have mass shootings and suicide bombings today? God is angry that gay marriage has been legalized.

If you can for a minute, imagine: what if God was created by people to protect themselves in times of fear and uncertainty? If you can do that, then you can also imagine that all these “fire and brimstone” messages maybe didn’t come from “God.” But instead, they come from the people who created God — they are nothing more than us expressing all the things we are afraid of and uncertain about.

Now that we start to see the possible root of this, if you look broader across the landscape, you notice the same message in different forms and in different places. E.g.
Finance – “Your investments are in danger, discover 3 save-havens to protect your family when the shit hits the fan.”
“Prepping” – Prepare for the zombie apocalypse – download your free checklist to find out how to protect your family when the shit hits the fan.

Now we’re ready to talk about why people feel the need to share such messages. The messages alone don’t give enough peace to the messenger. Because the sky is still falling and we’re all still going to die and that’s still scary. What gives the messenger even more peace is a higher purpose — to feel better about not living and dying in vain. Because of that, people want to elect themselves messengers of God, or God’s soldiers — to feel important, to add some meaning to an otherwise meaningless life. Another reason is to have a sense of control. Because we can’t control natural disasters, random acts of terrorism or financial crashes. But once you have God into the picture, you now have something you can control. You can “control” whether you go to Heaven and Hell. And with that, you have transformed unsolvable problems like natural disasters, financial crashes and terrorism into a simple problem of following a daily checklist for how to live your life.

New personal discovery. Not mine, but mama’s. J suggested, “Mama, why don’t you be a teacher?” And mama thought Hmm why not…? At night, mama said she had been thinking about your question all day and she was seriously considering it. She even did some preliminary research about what she needed, and what the perks would be. Perks include a pension and getting summers off. To me, one nice perk is that a schoolteacher’s work hours are exactly your school hours. So she is busy only when you’re at school. And the rest of her stuff she can do while you’re asleep.
Money is okay, but more important was happiness. Mama said that all her teachers said she would be an educator one day. And that teaching is something she always LOVED to do. Even at college when it was cold and she was depressed and she was skipping her own classes, she said she would rather die than miss a session her students. And that, to me, is a good sign that that’s what you’re meant to do. No matter what it is, whatever that makes you feel that strongly about is something you should throw yourself into. She said she’ll talk to Abu tomorrow (since Abu’s a prof). I said our neighbor was a teacher too. Mama said she’ll invite her over for dinner.

Sad things. Judy passed away. Leukemia. It made me think about death. It’s always bizarre whenever someone dies, especially if you remember talking to that person just a few months ago. We hadn’t spoken to her in a while. But that made me think about the other people we haven’t spoken to in a while. If we hadn’t heard about her death, she would just be another person we didn’t stay in touch with. Knowing that she died feels like a loss, because now you know you can never get back in touch. But that’s the real difference, isn’t it? Losing touch with someone is just the same as death. The difference between death and losing touch is death means you can never get back in touch. But practically speaking, people you know ‘die’ every day, every week, every year. You kill them the moment you stop talking with them. My family dies every morning I say goodbye and leave for work. But while the people you know and love are still alive on Earth, you can choose to bring them — and your relationship — back to life. You can resurrect them by saying “hello.” But you have to do it while you can, because one day, for all of us, death will be permanent. One day we won’t be able to talk to our parents anymore. Just like how Judy won’t be there if we visited her boutique anymore. She was a great person. She gave a lot to us, and she was generous to her family and her community.

I found a new hair place. We’re slowly finding our way around the neighborhood. It’s a salon 7 minutes from home run by a group of Vietnamese ladies who are friends. In fact, the salon’s name is “Friends.” They’re a wild bunch. Every time I’ve been there, they’re smiling and laughing and having a good time. Basketball is always on the TV and they’re not just watching, but oohing and aahing and cheering and jeering. I asked my hairdresser if they play basketball. To my surprise, she said they do. She also showed me the pictures stuck all over the border of her mirror. They’re all with the other ladies in the Salon. She said they just came back from a vacation. They always go somewhere fun each year. Mexico, Vegas, … Man. There’s the secret to happiness. Good friends; and being willing to be happy with what you have. Oh, I think we might also have found our new dentist down the street. Btw, this month (Jan 2016), there are 1.9 million people in Santa Clara county but only 501 houses for sale. I’m glad we’re done fighting for a house.

Love,

Dad

P.S. I just started a Machine Learning course. It’s offered by Stanford for free online. It’s amazing all the things you can learn for free these days.

P.P.S. Sometimes lessons come for free in the mail. Check out this swipe-worthy promotion by Lunardi. I was surprised by how much they invested into personalization.