The Early Bird Gets the ...

Dear William Wei,

Thank you for this amazing song.  You not only expressed how I've been feeling about my career lately but also gave me the hope to keep going.  I've already tried to make demands to my youngest sister that you marry her and join the family.  She declined - something about having never met you or other such nonsense.  Please join the family anyway?

Love,
Me

鳥日子 詞曲/演唱：韋禮安

總搞不懂 早起的蟲 怎麼生活 難道像我
怎麼做怎麼錯 怎麼我還不想放手

早起的我 總是落空 到底誰說 努力就
有天成功 到底哪天誰告訴我

日子一天天度過 曾經的熱衷 不甘願就這樣消磨
嗚~~等著我 什麼時候 離開枝頭
嗚~~不回頭 願望不多 只要我能相信我
逆著風 就能飛上天空

Bird Days by William Wei 

(translated by Ruohua Lee) 

I've never understood it - how does the early worm survive?  It's just that  

How do I do this?  How did I go wrong?  How is it that I still haven't given up?

I get up early but everything still just comes to naught.  They say that effort will

One day bring success.  Can someone tell me when that day will come?  

Day by day, I simply get by.  I'm can't let my passions just wear away like this.  

Oooh ~ I'm waiting for the time when I can leave this branch.

Oooh ~ I can't turn back now.  My dreams are not many - I simply want to be able to believe in myself,

That I can fly against the wind through the sky.  

How To Make Someone's Day 101

Be yourself.

My colleague shared this video with me.  I think he chuckled his way through it.  I cried my way through it.  It was touching and beautiful.

The story of a boy who made an arcade entirely out of cardboard.
That arcade made one man's day.
That man in turn wanted to make a video to tell the world about this arcade.
He made that boy's day.
But in making that boy's day, he helped that boy make a lot of other people's day.

And together, they made my day.

You can watch it here.  


The moral: Be yourself.  You have a lot to share.  The world is waiting.

Raison d'etre

A friend recently asked me my opinions on music.  I figured after a flippantly written blogpost about my replay music lately, that I should address the overall concept of music in my life.

It's only when we lose the influence of something significant in our lives that we often stop and realize what it meant to us.  The times I've most noticed music in my life was when I noticed a lack of it.

Last year, for a few months, I had significant problems with my voice.  I wasn't sure the cause - sickness, stress, strain from singing in my acapella group - but I suffered through several multiple-week bouts of not being able to sing.  It was only then - when I had to consciously stop myself to prevent damage to my sore vocal cords - that I realized how often I sang.  After this period was over, my roommate told me.  "It's nice that you have your voice back again.  You're happier now that you can sing again and you sing when you're happy."  I hadn't ever thought about it in that way before.    I laughed at her since I feel like I sing even when I'm not happy.  However, there must be some truth to it because, last week, when I ran around the house as I got ready for the day, my roommate greeted me in the hallway, "You're certainly in a great mood this morning.  Did you get some good news?"  I looked at her in surprise.  "Yes, but how did you know?"  She laughed.  "You were singing."

One of the most obvious times in my life when music played a very different role in my life was my mission.  I didn't mind the rules - only hymns and classical music on Sunday mornings and preparation days - and memorized and sang hymns while I rode my bike or walked so that I felt no lack.  Or thought I didn't.  In my last month of my mission though, I went over to a family's house that I had seen at church but never spent much time with.  As my companion and I made our bows and shook our new friend's hand and switched out of our shoes and into house slippers in the entry way, I noticed some classical music was playing in the background.  The next conscious thought I have was that both my companion and the woman were staring at me open-mouthed from the entry way.  I had somehow made my way, uninvited, into the living room and situated myself right next to the radio.   I wasn't sure how long I had been there.  To cover up my rudeness and my embarrassment, I smiled, "Oh, is this Handel's Water Music?  I used to play the violin and I played this piece."  But it was a wake-up call: I loved music - and I missed it desperately.

Can I imagine my life without music?  No.

Can I really comprehend exactly how much music has influenced me?  No.

But I know it has and does.  And I am glad for it.

Winter Of My Discontent

I am a big believer that if your life is not going as you hoped, then you should try to change it in some way.  Make a new friend, take up a new hobby, change up your routine or, if necessary, take steps to make a significant impact on how the course of events pan out.

If you look at my activities since starting my PhD, you may notice a few stark moments of "change".  When I first came to UVa, I jumped into one service activity, one academic-related activity, and a few church-related activities.  After about two years, I dropped all of it.  A few months later, I picked up a different service activity, a different academic-related activity, and a different church-related activity.  A few years later, again, those all fell by the wayside in a personal effort to adjust my situation.  It's been one and a half years since I picked up the latest in service activity, academic related activity and church-related activity and I'm about ready to call quits on it all again.

The funny thing is, I can change the things I do in my off hours but somehow all my efforts are unable to make a real impact in the one thing that I have struggled with the most: obtaining my PhD.   I've doubled my efforts; I've given up a million time and re-started a million and one times.  I've talked to people, gotten advice, received help, tried to figure things out on my own, read textbooks, taught myself programs and equipment use.  I've used scientific reasoning to come to answers, worked through detailed plans, fiddled around when that didn't work and gone with my gut instinct.  I know my lab about as well as anyone can know a lab - even though I'm still learning exactly how many problems one experiment can have - and still at a loss how to make it all work at the same time.  I've pleaded and prayed.  I've fought and screamed.  I've been humbled and gained hope to try again.  It's been an exhausting six years.  I'm ready to be done.  But until I have data and results, I'm here.  For some undisclosed amount of time.

How easy it would be to walk away from it all, even if that means spending six years on something only to not get a degree.  Even if that means never going to Japan.  Even if that means never becoming the person I want to become.

I'm tired, bereft of energy, motivation and funding.  And still no respite is in sight.  I'm asked on a daily basis now, "When are you graduating?"  If only I knew.  Please no more questions, no more looks of disappointment - they can't compare to what I see every morning and evening looking back at me in my mirror.  I just want to fail in peace.  I just want to walk away.

So, why can't I?  Why do I stay on, buckling under the pressure of a frustrated adviser, a frustrated lab colleague and a frustrated graduate program?

Is it because deep down, I really think that I still succeed?

Laughable really, since they say someone who does the same thing over and over and expects different results is insane and I've been doing the same thing now for a few years.

Spring has come to Charlottesville.  When will mine arrive?

My Playlist Lately

I'm like the anti-hipster.  I like things when it's no longer cool to like them.  This applies most definitely to my music.  However, despite that fact, I still somehow find it necessary to listen to these songs on repeat for days on end.

These are the songs that have been dominating my headphones lately.

One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful

Yeah, I've listened to this song nonstop for about five days now.  I should be wildly embarrassed but I've decided this is the theme song for my family.  The women in my family are pretty amazing and absolutely beautiful and I don't think they realize it (with the exception of perhaps Baby who hasn't a doubt in her head that she's beautiful).

Venus - Shinhwa

On second thought, maybe I should be infinitely more embarrassed about this song.  I can't seem to figure out why I listen to this song on repeat.  I think it's because a boyband composed of thirty-somethings that is still going strong (and in fact, making a comeback after a four year hiatus) is such a baffling concept to me.  It's also somehow gratifying to know that skinny boybands grow up into normal sized manbands.

Five Days - Patrick Nuo

I was reminded of this song with the video above of Hasebe-san pulling off some pretty fabulous soccer moves.  If only I could see more of this in Hasebe these days.  I do love his passing game and his crosses but there's still something so fabulously cheering about watching that kid take on defenders on his own.  This song supports my theory in a roundabout upbeat way.  (Note: He did decide to singlehandedly break down the North Korean defense during a recent game by dribbling through it because he realized the North Koreans were doing too well against the Japanese passing game.  While I didn't get to see it, when I read about it in an article, I cheered.)  (Note: Once again, too many opinions about a man I don't know)

Jaywalking - Eye Candy (Shut Up Flower Boy Band OST)

If I could translate Korean, I so would do it for this song.  I love the way the melody ebbs and flows with the lyrics.  Probably one of the best fake band songs I've heard in a long time.  I can't get over how much fun this song is.

It's Not Like It Isn't Lonely This Way - Yen-J

I'm breaking my usual rules left and right today.  I usually only include official videos by that group (when possible) but this English translation is pretty good and I thought it might be nice for once for people to understand what the music I like says.  I've loved Yen-j for a while now.  So it should be no surprise that he made an appearance on my oft played lately.  But what surprised me is that it was this song that I kept wanting to listen to.  It's so sad and poignant.

Fantastic Baby - Bigbang

For as much as I claim I don't really like these guys, they certainly keep showing up on my playlist.  Silly T.O.P and his "Fantastic Baby."  It's fantastically addictive.  I could do without his blue hair though.  I do like Bigbang because most of their music makes excellent running/workout music.

Sherlock - Shinee

I love these boys.  And even though Taemin looks like a girl and Minho looks awkward dancing in skinny jeans, I keep pushing Replay.  (Ha! I'm too funny)  Onew continues to reign as my favorite in the group although I still can't place my finger on 'why'.  

Child's Play

Sunday, I watched General Conference with two adorable kids who, despite my best efforts, proved to be excellent distractions.  They also proved to show how fabulous and magical life can be.  

T: I can beat up a pirate.
My sister and I:  Really?
T (whispering): I got a sword from Target.
(This of course was during a talk but my sister and I couldn't help but burst out laughing)

Marc: You need to drink enough water.
T: So that you won't be dead.
Marc: Exactly.  Water helps your brain and your lungs and your heart.
T: Oh, but the doctor has two hearts.
(Reference to Dr. Who - these kids are OBSESSED with Dr. Who)

K: Marc, you need to wash your hands!
Marc: It's fine, really.
K: NO!  You need to wash your hands!  You have to wash off those bad germs so you won't get in trouble!
Marc: (shrugs)
K: I washed my hands so I only have good germs.  
(She was quite adamant and almost worried for his soul since he was left with bad germs)

K: How do you say his name?
K's Mom: Elder Christofferson
K: Elder Chistopson?
K's Mom: Elder Christofferson
K: Ok.
(She goes upstairs to where her brother is)
K: T, quick, say, 'Elder Chritoffoson"
T: Elder Kistopson?
K: Good job!  Now you get a treat too!
(They got a treat when they recognized general authorities)

(K's dad decided to play an April Fool's Day joke on her by pretending she was dressed up as a princess)
K: I am NOT a princess!  Can I go outside to play?
K's Dad: You need to take off that pretty pink dress and that crown you're wearing before you can do that.
K: I'm not wearing a dress!  I don't have a crown.
K's Dad: You can't see it?  It's so pretty.  Go take it off before you go to play so you don't ruin your dress.
K angrily stomps out of the room and pretends to take off a dress that she obviously doesn't have on and can't see.  She also rips a pretend crown off her head.
K: Is that better?  Now, can I go outside?
K's Dad: But wait, those pearls!  Don't ruin your nice pearl necklace!
K: I'm not wearing a pearl necklace.
K's Dad: Yes, you are.  Can't you see those beautiful pearls.  It's so nice.  I'm almost afraid I'll hurt them if I touch them.
K goes out of the room again and angrily unfastens the pretend pearl necklace that she obviously doesn't see but her dad does.  
K: Is that better?
K's Dad: Hahaha.  April Fool's Day!

K gets the joke and plans her own.
K: (announcing to the entire room): I'm going to play an April Joke on Mommy.  I'm going to ... (proceeds to tell all her plans)
K's Dad: No, sweetheart.  Telling everyone your joke kind of defeats the purpose.

The Worth of a Soul

My life: In Taiwan, there was a family that I worked with.  Three families and three generations in one poorly maintained home situated dangerously close to a power substation.  In the middle of affluent Neihu, it was the closest  I got to poverty on my mission and it broke my heart.  The parents all had to work long hours and low-paying jobs in an attempt to make ends meet and so left their 10+ children in the hands of an aged and stern grandfather who mostly ignored them.  Although fed and clothed, the children were starving for love.  My companion and I visited them weekly to teach them a short lesson about Jesus and teach a song or two and then play a game and eat a treat.  Due to mission rules, we were not allowed to hold or hug the children but we often talked of the day when we were no longer missionaries and we could throw our arms around those little ones and show them how much we truly loved them.  (My companion had a dream of trotting all those kids down the street to buy them all ice cream cones - another impossibility on a mission budget.)  As it was, those kids tried their hardest to worm their way into our arms and our laps.  They finally settled on simply kissing our hands when we left them each week.  

One day the male missionaries who served in the same area came back from visiting the grandfather and we laughed as they told us off the devious antics of the kids to scramble onto their laps and we smiled when they teased us and said that all the kids adored us and referred to us as, "Auntie missionaries."  Then one of the elders spoke up with a chuckle.  "I really don't get why you spend so much time on those kids.  They aren't going to amount to anything.  They're not going to make it."  I burst into tears.  

Book One: 

Yesterday, I found this excerpt from an autobiography of my new hero, Jim Abbott, a famous baseball player who was famous for being a pitcher in spite of only having one hand.  During his career, he had the opportunity to meet several other children born with imperfect bodies.  

"They were shy and beautiful, and they were loud and funny, and they were, like me, somehow imperfectly built. And, like me, they had parents nearby, parents who willed themselves to believe that this ­accident of circumstance or nature was not a life sentence, and that the spirits inside these tiny bodies were greater than the sums of their hands and feet."  

He then went on to talk about how those little children and their courage and optimism changed him and made him a better baseball player and a better man.  

I think that those words - spirits who were greater than the sum of their hands and feet - is such a great way to describe the potential of children born into difficult circumstances.  

Book Two: 

I was recently told about the book The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore about two men from Baltimore with the exact same name and similar circumstances.  One Wes Moore went on to become a Rhodes Scholar and a White House fellow and the other ended up in prison for life.  Whoever told me about this book (I'm sorry, I can't remember who at the moment) said that this book discusses not only what small doors opened that made one a success but also leaves with the thought that the world is lacking and missing something from what could have been an equally wonderful and brilliant contribution from the other Wes Moore.  

So many people can judge children and say they won't make it.  I pray that I may have the courage to say that they can and be able to do much to help those children achieve their dreams and reach their potential.