being chinese

early morning, late night.
that's about all I see outside of school.
12 hours workday.
i told fei we should never allow that to happen once we start working,
we need more for our lives...

is hardworking-ness in our genes?
wasn't Diligence, one of many other virutes,
what our fathers advocate?

working on my Project2, an exploration of the meaning of being Chinese,has evolved to be a personal journey.

You know how one passes thru the stage in which he is embarrassed to proclaim he is Chinese?
How you'll always want to be of another race, of another colour.
The childlike ignorance of how being a blond could have been so much cooler.
Of how all things chinese were boring and bland, unsightly and ugly.
Reminds me of a certain period in my life.

I was brought up in a Chinese school environment that imparted values like respecting the elders, and not forgetting one roots. We were made to sing the religious song called 三宝歌 every month, bowing at the many glistering idols that inhibit the school ground. We were taught the buddhist way of life, in a half-an-hour period called Buddhist Study. And it was compulsory calligraphy lessons for the Primary 2-4, on top of compulsory higher chinese lessons we had to take, as i vaguely remember. For the girls, we could never have long hair, for it increases the tendency to be untidy and to be lacked of discipline. We sang the our chinese school song everyday, read the chinese national anthem every alternate days and heard the principal speak to us in Mandarin. Which other primary school have 2 air conditioned halls, the more grand one, furbished with intricate display and red carpet titled the Buddhist Hall?

Honestly, I was never proud of it. I always thought how horrible it was to be brought up in such an environment. During my years in a neighbourhood secondary school, I rejoice at the refreshing change it brought, the whole liberated freedom. I dropped Mandarin like a hot potato, despite having a strong foundation, choose to deviate from my mother language.

Lately, I've been reminded of all these experiences. Pushing myself to pick up calligraphy in part of the effort for my project, there were so much beauty in all these traditions I have chose to neglect. I hated calligraphy class when I was young, because I was impatient, because I thought they looked ugly and were meant for old ah peks. In outlines of characters meant for guides, I coloured them with my brush as if it was a colour pencil, childishly beaming at the fact of how intelligent I was to have escaped from the torture. Needless to say, I never excel in that.

In the still of the night, I disciplined myself to sit upright with legs uncrossed, to watch my breathing and the angle of my hand. These weren't whole load of bullshit i used to believe it was. Calligraphy trains the mind, and I truly believe it right now. It reinforces discipline, and especially to come peace to yourself. It ain't any buddhist crap, it was real. Reflecting back, these exercises were probably my earliest training in Typography. Flipping through the dictionary to study the "typeface" of the particular character, I became sensitive to the "pressure points", the gap between the 丿 and the ⼂, the "kerning" of the character. When delving in it, one have to be fully concentrated, and especially patient. A confident hand draws a straight line with the correct pressure, a patient mind watches, concentrate and develops the character as it lines across the paper. It got me in tune with the person I was inside, and made me calmer. It really is an Art to master.

My words didn't turn out perfect, but the process regulates my concentration and connection. In Alan Fletcher's words, it was as if "savouring a sensual pleasure", honestly.

There were so much emotions forgotten. Like how when you constantly ran across life, you forget your true self. In a society that embraces diversity and modernity, you sometime forget how it is like being chinese. When the language is forgotten, the immediate connection is lost.

have you ever loved being chinese?

Until lately, I never realised I did.