Monday, March 29, 2010

In Quest of Good Books

I have always loved good books. I remembered during our honeymoon in Los Angeles, Ming offered me to go to Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive and somehow I preferred to spend hours in Barnes & Nobles to Borders. During our two weeks there, I had never once set a foot on Rodeo Drive and had never regretted it. My favorite spot back in college is the Fifth floor of my University library, and if you ask me now what I really want to do, I want to become a Librarian.

Simon Fraser University, W.A.C Bennett Library, Burnaby. the bottom windows are actually the fifth floor

The library is my church. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an atheist, but the place always manages to bring peace and quiet to my mind, and when you stop and think about it, there's nothing that speaks louder of God's greatness than being surrounded by the written works of human minds, whether they are historical accounts of past kings and conquests, whether they are popped-up books for toddlers, or Tolkien's works, or a memoir of a prairie girl who lived more than a hundred years ago in De Smet, South Dakota.

I don't love a particular genre, and have no favorite author. Some books left a profound impression and overtime I will always reach out for it again and again and again. Some books I regretted buying and others I bought because well, I just want to read something. Anything. and promptly forgot about it.

Borrowing the words of Forrest Gump, buying a book was like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're going to get. I learned this first time on 6th grade elementary, when our teacher introduced us to library for the first time and asked us to borrow a book. I pulled one form the shelf. It was an old, thick, yellowing book with funny, molding smell. I forgot why I was drawn to that book, but I'd like to think my overactive imagination half expected I would open it and found an old treasure map or something.

I had never read a book more than twenty pages and never without pictures before. Well, thisbook was about 300 pages and there's no pictures at all. I opened and started reading and before I know it, the bell rang and I've finished a chapter and couldn't wait to go home and keep reading.

This book was the first book that got me hooked to reading. The title was, Little House on the Prairie, the author, Laura Ingalls Wilder. My daughter's full name is Felicia Laura Oei. While Ming will always think Felicia's middle name is the feminine keepsake of his name, Lawrence, I will aways think her middle name is a tribute to Laura Ingalls. I hope one day Felicia will read and cherish her books.

In 2002, in a used book sale in the corner of a mall in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, I pulled out an extremely thick book (around 2.5 inches), hoping that it would last for the rest of the road trip all the way to Winnipeg and back to Vancouver. I also thought the hardcover is kinda cool since it would stand the coffee stains, sticky fingers and made a good hard surface if I want to write something. Plus, it was a good deal for CAD $ 1.

The book was Roots, the author, Alex Hailey. It was, and still is, a treasure. I missed a good portion of Canadian Rockies scenery while bawling my eyes out reading this. If you love to read, this is one book that you should never miss in your lifetime. It makes you think of where you come from, the people who lived, loved, and died before you; the people who existed and therefore you come to being.

I know I've always wanted to go to that small village in Hubei, China and saw with my own eyes my father's family name there. Perhaps if I'm lucky, the house and land which once belonged to my great-grandfather, said to be a Landlord before the Communist Party took his land, was still standing.

One day, a couple of years ago, my friend told me about this book, called, The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho. I asked him what it was about and I remembered he told me it's about a shepherd who went to see the pyramids and met an alchemist along the way who knew how to make gold and gotten beat up in the process. The shepherd, not the alchemist. I know. My first reaction was, huh?

Mostly due to this confusing summary that I almost missed reading this jewel. Then on a trip to a local bookstore, I found out that the English version of this book was actually quite cheap compare to other titles and decided to buy it. I almost cried of boredom when I read the first few chapters of this book, but I was a true believer by the end of it.

"When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream" - The Alchemist

This book is about following your dream, and not letting anything stops you. Even if it took years and plenty distractions and sets back along the way. Even if it sometimes your dream seemed unrealistic and other opportunities in front of you seemed to good to miss. It's about having faith and carry on.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the shepperd in the book. I was more like the crystal merchant who hang on to his dream but after having the means to pursue it, simply chose not to for fear that 1) once he achieves his dream, what would he live and long for? 2) what if his dream, in reality, is not as good as he had visioned it to be?

Anyway, you simply have to read it to get it. All the way. Hang on during the first rather confusing and seemingly pointless chapters, it all makes sense in the end. I promise. Plus, it's rather short and the language is easy.

Finally, as you all know, sometime last year I became obsessed with Alexander Skarsgard, which led me to read and watch Generation Kill (still watch it several times). Anyways, while I'm still a fan, I had overcome my Skarsgardian, sweede-tooth, addiction to anything related to the actor, one thing I have never regretted was stumbling on this book, One Bullet Away by Nathaniel Fick.


The book follows a part of his life from when he decided to join the military to his resignation. Nathaniel Fick is an ivy league Classic scholar who felt he was born in a wrong time. He wanted to test himself and followed a rite of passage to become a man, instead of joining Corporate America upon graduation. Other military branches offered him scholarship, experiences, money to join, but the United States Marines Corps instead asked him if he had what it takes to be a Marine. That convinced him to sign up for their Officer program.

It was his father’s words that best summed up the decision and the first chapters of the books, “The Marines will teach you everything I love you too much to teach you”

He joined a peacetime military and was in Australia when 9/11 happened. He and his platoon left directly to Pakistan, was on a mission in Afghanistan, and in 2003, he led a platoon of reconnaissance marines, spearheading the invasion of Iraq in Operation Iraqi Freedom. He returned to United States safely with all of his men (only one casualty), but a changed man. In his own words, he basically said, the kid who went to Iraq had never returned.

He was a Captain when he resigned from the Marine Corps. He was only twenty five then.

Remember how we wondered where we’re going to be when we turned twenty five, Sheila? I have to say, nothing beats leading a platoon of men into war and came home alive. He returned, and signed up for dual graduate degree in Harvard Business School and Kennedy School of Government. He is now happily married, and works in Washington DC. Oh, this book he wrote was on New York Time best seller, and he was also one marine officer depicted glowingly in Generation Kill by Evan Wrights, both in books and the HBO mini series, more on that later.

This man is for real. He seemed to embody what being an American is all about, which is a refreshing change after hearing about The Jershey Shore “The Situation” or Jon Gossellin from the former show Jon and Kate plus eight.

America, you still have hope.

There you are Felicia, the four books your mom LOVES to read and will continue to read over and over again. There is very few that I'm looking forward more than the chance to talk about these books with you once you read them, if you want to of course, over a cup of coffee after we go shopping with your dad's credit card.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I do, and I can't wait to know what books you love to read!


Saturday, March 27, 2010

Hmmm.....



Felicia at 21 months...
She's thinking and plotting and scheming...
be afraid...be very afraid....

Monday, March 22, 2010

Poker Face - Awesomeness # 1

I'm not talking about Lady Gaga's song.  I'm talking about the literal definition of Poker Face, which according to Wikipedia, is a poker term for a blank expression that does not reveal anything.

Why I mentioned it?  Because in the past weekend, I learn something about my daughter that I simply have to write down due to its level of awesomeness.  Yes, I know my daughter is awesome almost all the time, but in this matter, she simply outdone herself.  

I have to mention that I am a type of person who wears my emotion on my sleeve.  I tried to appear cool and unaffected especially in time of crisis or under pressure, but most of the time, people at work will know. To save time and jobs of those working around me (kidding, I think), I always make a point to inform them not to f*ck with me during these times and they got the message and steer clear from me, or at least go the extra mile to make sure they don't incure my wrath.  Ah, the things I can get away simply by being the daughter in law of the owner, the wife of the junior boss.  

But that's enough about me.  You got the point.  We're talking about my daughter now.

Felicia has grown a lot these days, and it's not only physically (she's 94.5 cm now), but also intellectually and mentally.  It is amazing to see with our own eyes how her personality takes shape daily.  I saw a bit of myself, my mother, my grandmother, and most of my husband's genetic influence in her, and it always makes me smile, though not in front of her.

Seriously, she doesn't want me to smile, and she would say so.  "Mom, don't smile like this (she'd smile to show me what she meant), be like this (she'd show her straight, unsmiling face)".  

Anyway, that's another story.

Like any other toddler, she learns by trial and error of the rules we set in our house.  She learns that screaming would not get her anything, and would always tried (after screaming) to say what she wants nicely.  She learns to say thank you and please (though this is still work in progress).  

However, she is still a toddler, and easily frustrated if she didn't get what she wants.

Which was exactly what happened last Saturday night.  

A little bit of background story. Earlier that day, I suspected that Felicia would get sick soon.  You can tell sometimes by her sneezing a couple of times, a little bit of cough here and there.  There wasn't any real indication yet, no runny nose or anything like that.  I wasn't sure if I should give her any medication yet at first, but later on in the evening when she starts having that nasal voice you'd have when you got flu, I immediately bought her medicine, wrapped her with long sleeves pajamas and socks and rubbed her chest with Vicks to keep her warm, and asked her nanny to put her to bed.

Understandably under that condition, she became extra cranky.  Then, an hour later, I heard her screaming on top of her lungs.  I went to her room and her nanny told me that she wanted to have a cup of jell-o.  

Felicia LOVES jell-o and we always had one hidden in the refrigerator (If she saw one, she'd want one ALL THE TIME, so we always hid it).  But it's cold and I don't want to give it to her when she's sick.  The nanny had told her no, but she won't take no for an answer.

So as always, I told her that I don't understand her if she keeps screaming.  She calmed herself and told me in a calm but very strained tone that she would like to have jell-o.  I told her that she's sick and I could not give her that.  

She screamed again.  So I told her that if she would like to have jell-o, I will throw away her pacifier.  Let me tell you something, Felicia LOVES her pacifier.  On different occasion a week before, I came up with what I would say a true inspiration when I simply threatened her that I would cut her pacifier if she refused to drink her milk, and it worked like a charm.  I have to admit I had used that threat few more times since, and it always works.  At least until that night.

Anyway, the conversation went like this (in Indonesian),
Mom: Felicia, mommy would throw away your pacifier if you kept asking for Jell-O
Felicia (heavy breathing, shaky voice from screaming only seconds before): Okay.
(Mom and her nanny exchanged surprised look)
Mom: I WILL throw it away ( I showed her the pacifier and placed it on top of the trash bin)
Felicia: Fine
Mom (trying.so.hard.not.to.smile) : Felicia, if you want your jell-o, mommy will cut your pacifier
Felicia (calm, composed, and gave a blank look passed my shoulder) : Fine 
Mom (Taking a scissor and held it on top of the pacifier) : You will have the jell-o, but mommy WILL really cut your pacifier (started to doubt myself)
Felicia (looking serene) : Yes

What can I do?  I bluffed, she called it. Ladies and gents, my reputation is at stake here.  If I backed down now, she will never heed my words, and my authority would be a joke.  I know I can't use the pacifier as a weapon all the time, but I'll use whatever ammunition available at the moment.

So with a last glance at her nanny, I cut it.  

Two seconds of silence passed.   Then, she looked at me straight in the eye and said with a calm voice that defied her age,
Felicia: Can I have my jell-o now?

I straightened myself and we both stared at each other.  
Mom : You may.

If that is not an unprecedented level of awesomeness never heard before, at least in the chronicle of this person's mommyhood, I don't know what is.  

In the end, who won?  Neither of us.

I thought I had my (however small) slice of victory when I submerged her pack of jell-o in a hot water to make it lukewarm instead of cold one which she preferred, but any illusion of having the last word disappeared the next morning when I learned that an hour after the stand off, Felicia in her room, out of my earshot, cried for her (other) pacifier and her nanny gave in. Bah.

But I can hardly call that event a waste.

That night, we both learned something from each other.  I learned not to spew empty threats that most moms here did to exert their authority and control their children and can get away with it (You know what I mean, the ones your mom told you when you're a kid).  I learned that I have to prepare to actually carry my threats and ate my words if I challenge her, or be challenged in return.  I learned that my daughter would grow up to be a formidable opponent and I have, give or take, ten to twelve years to prepare for it.  

Yes, I used the word "I" instead of "we", seeing that thus far, Felicia's dad had not yet proven that he had the heart to be the disciplinarian authority figure in the house.  Felicia literally PAT his head last time they went swimming together.  I think we, Felicia included, know between the two of them who's the boss.  I'm not going to say anything more on that.  But he still has time.

What did Felicia learn?

She learned that the next time I said I will cut her pacifier, I will do exactly that.  Which I used it again as a threat the next day and she somberly backed down.

So, the total tally of the evening:

  • One Pacifier: Rp. 12,000 
  • One bottle of kid's cough medicine: Rp. 21,000
  • One pack of Jell-o: Rp.6,000
  • Witnessing my two and half year old (in two weeks) first poker face: Priceless

And with that, I bid you all good day.