Safe in a Crazy World …

Something happened today which really touched me. It may seem like nothing to others, but to a student who has some interest in research, but not to the extent of being passionate, and hence not really favoured by lecturers with high expectations, it was a really heart-warming moment.

We were supposed to choose and submit 10 choices for our final year project, after which one project would be allocated through balloting (or so they said) and announced after a week or so. We were also advised to meet up with supervisors of projects we are interested in, as some of them would not accept students whom they have not met up with. The ambiguous part was that the coordinator hinted on supervisors having a say in the final allocation as they may be allowed to choose their students, regardless of the ballot. However, after clarifying with the coordinator, limited information could be given to students on this, leaving a cloud of uncertainty hovering above our heads. In this case, we presume that academically and research-inclined students are usually the ones whom most researchers prefer. Those like me who are average but have interest in the projects then seem to be at a disadvantage.

So the story for today goes like this … I had emailed Dr B to meet up for discussion of his projects which I am interested in, but just before I met up with him, there were news that some projects were really popular and have already been "pre-allocated" (i.e., some supervisors might have given their projects to students whom they think are suitable, without going through the balloting), and Dr B’s project was rumoured to be one of them. Even though it was hearsay, I suddenly felt disheartened because such things were really possible in my school. When it comes to choosing projects or signing up for assignment topics, 50% of the choices would often be snapped up by early birds (who are so impossibly early that you would think they camped overnight in school and rushed into general office to sign up the moment the door was opened, hahaha …) such that you might well be left with the not-so-nice topics if you do not hurry. Moreover in the case of my project selection, about 50% of my choices were rumoured to have been pre-allocated, meaning that I no longer stand a chance even if I submitted them under my top 10. Nevertheless, I went to see Dr B, as agreed in my email. The whole process of discussion ended up to be a really nice one, for he made the effort to explain the project details from scratch, something which not all supervisors do. Some professors whom I had met spoke very little during their discussion sessions, merely waiting for my questions, hence I had felt that those were rather "one-way" sessions. In the case of Dr B, he even rummaged through his cabinets for a whole 5 minutes just to get a few pieces of notes to explain background information to me. I wanted to ask him not to bother as I did not wish to take up too much of his time. Friendly as he always was, he joked about his cabinets being ever so messy, and assured me that it was alright as he would find the notes soon. After he got the notes, we discussed a little on the project techniques and when I told him that his projects were interesting, he gave me a reply which surprised me. He said that he was very happy to hear what I said, and it was as though many people failed to see the interesting part of his work.

He went further to tell me about some other projects going on in his lab and that he had a hard time getting grants over here for studies on this particular disease which is not common among Asians, but with high occurrence in Caucasians. I commented that this is a realistic place, and many people would prefer to invest in projects which either concern "trendy" topics, or would benefit the local situation and economy, and he agreed. But he mentioned something very subtle, yet extremely inspiring to me. He said that research should not be categorised/limited by national boundaries. For a moment I felt like I was hearing wise words from Gandolf in "Lord of the Rings", right in front of me, just that he was the Chinese version (I know this is exaggerating, but he really touched me with his words!). I have never heard anything like that in my years of studying Science, and it felt really good to hear something so meaningful and sincere from a lecturer. In the research community rat race, there are researchers who become obssessed with results and publications (sometimes fame), and truly neglected the initial purpose and attitude towards research. Dr B also told me that the purpose of final year projects is to give students a chance to have a feel of research, and results are not more important than the experience, most of all we should have learnt new techniques and the way of research at the end of it. His words gave me consolation that there are still people who research for the sake of goodwill.

At the end of the discussion, I was really curious to know his take on the project allocation. According to him, some students had specifically expressed their wish to take on his project, but he did not give promises as the final allocation should be decided by the project coordinator and not himself. He also said that he welcomes anybody to his lab even after graduation to learn anything that interests them. At least it assured me that he is not the kind who would give under-the-table pre-allocations to students. Given my fair share of encounters with professors who do not like to waste their time on average students (as one can feel from their behaviour), I was really at a loss for words on having met somebody like Dr B. When I thought about it all, it made me feel like crying.

At the end of the day, I no longer dwelled on the impending project allocation disaster. Rather, I felt that I had gained something even more important - I had chatted with a non-judgemental and magnanimous researcher, somebody who genuinely puts his heart into researching for goodwill, and a person who made my day. Most importantly, it gave me encouragement that I shouldn’t feel unworthy of research just because I am an average student.

To think that the first blog I post right after my internet connection regained, would be due to anger (again). I promised myself to write less of negative stuff cos it is not good to be always angry and brooding over things which I cannot control. But this time, I lost my cool again.

Very trivial incident it may seem, but when history repeats itself over and over again, I really feel like a pressure cooker exploding. Just imagine you took some nice videos of a cute baby, and had waited for weeks to specially show it to people. They viewed the video 50% of the time, and during the remaining 50%, they were half looking at a website and half observing the parts of the camera, and even looking into the viewfinder!! Wouldn’t you be angry if you were me? I felt as though I was not being treated with any respect at all, because similar situations have happened many times before. And that was not the end. I put on an angry front and some insensitive person still cared to joke and jostle around, and even deliberately stepped on my foot!!! To make the "joke" even more funny, my chair was taken away from me while I was switching on my laptop to test the internet connection. If you knew that you had made somebody angry, would you still sit on her chair in this case and not even leave some space for her, leaving her to stand and fume like a chimney? And still basking in the glory of your so-called joke?

Then came the most ridiculous part - I finally decided that I couldn’t, and shouldn’t tolerate that anymore, and scolded this joker, who still had the cheek to say that I vented my frustration on him after being angered by somebody else. I fathomed that he had said this because he seriously did not sense anything wrong with his actions, which is seriously, very serious. I thought I was on cloud nine before the joker came. None of my family or friends had EVER done this kinda thing to me. I felt really really disrespected and on some other past occassions, insulted.

I have never seen a case like this, where I felt that even a stone could have sensed the tension and anger building up in me, not to mention a living human. I have concluded that this is a case of extreme insensitivity and childishness, coupled with ZERO situation awareness. Period.   

*If you happen to have survived such ordeals, pls donate some advice in counteracting this "syndrome". I think your help would go a long way. Thanks. I certainly wish that this could be the LAST straw, but it certainly isn’t going to be!!

I specially created this blog entry to post excerpts from a book I am currently reading. It’s titled "Japanese Women Don’t Get Old or Fat", by Naomi Moriyama. The title may sound a little shallow, but it is definitely not a diet book. It merely celebrates the spirit of Japanese home cooking through many anecdotes by the Japanese author and her American husband. Below are some excerpts I especially like. Here goes …

My mother, a short, black-haired, ultra-high-energy Japanese woman, is making our family dinner with the speed of a panther, the confidence of Martha Stewart and the precision of a NASA scientist.

Green tea is brewing in an earthenware pot.

Fresh green and yellow vegetables are simmering in dashi, a clear broth made from bonito flakes, kelp and mushrooms. Fluffy rice is plumping up in the rice cooker, steaming out a rich nutty flavour.

My mother grills small slices of fish with a light touch of lemon and rapeseed oil, then polishes little squares of tofu with a brown sauce before lining up bowls of simmering miso soup made from scratch. They look like jewel boxes.

What comes out of my mother’s kitchen is not complicated sushi or elaborate, formal kaiseki dishes. This is good old-fashioned, hard-core everyday Japanese mum’s cooking.

It’s what tens of millions of Japanese mothers and wives serve their families every day. It is the food my mother fed me as a little girl, as a high school student and even as a young executive trainee in my first office job in Tokyo, when she would sometimes chase down the street after me with a piece of toast if I rushed out of the apartment without eating.

My mum’s Tokyo kitchen is tiny, about 1.8 by 3.6 metres. It is jam-packed and piled high with cooking utensils, plates and seasoning stuff. She has virtually no worktop space.

When my good friend Susan came to Tokyo to visit for a couple of days from New York on the way to Hong Kong, she witnessed my mum whip up a few fantastic dishes out of thin air, in a scene right out of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Susan still talks about it ten years later.

When I was growing up, we rarely ate out or brought take-away foods home. My mum said she could do it better and cheaper. She did - and she still does.

She shops for ingredients from a variety of places - from local supermarkets, department store food halls, downtown Tokyo specialist stores and the Tsukiji fish market. Every day she goes to local stores for fresh fish, meat and vegetables, and back when there was a family-owned tofu store nearby that made fresh tofu on the premises, she even bought her tofu fresh. She often does not decide what dishes to make before she goes grocery shopping. Only after she’s looked over the market’s offerings and has seen what looks fresh and fabulous that day does she devise her menu plan. For perishables, ‘freshness’ is a Tokyo kitchen mantra. Whether it is fish, fruits, vegetables or herbs, if it is in season and available fresh, that’s what Japanese women buy. If it’s not fresh, they stay away.

From ages twelve to eighteen, my younger sister, Miki, and I went to an all-girls private school in Kawasaki.

On the first day of school all the mothers and daughters were seated in the auditorium and a teacher at the podium made an orientation speech:

                      We request that every mother make lunch for

                      your daughter everyday. Our main theme at this

                      school is to help our students learn to be giving

                      and loving. One of the ways your daughter learns

                      this is from your love-packed lunch box.

My mother took this speech very seriously.

For years, she woke up at 6 a.m. and cooked small portions of fish, veggies, eggs and meat for us, sliced them up and packed them neatly and elegantly along with a sheet of nori seaweed over a bed of rice in a small airtight Tupperware lunch box.

She wrapped up the lunch in a cloth napkin with my name and flowers embroidered in a corner. She made these napkins too.

Every day the lunch box contained different side dishes, sandwiches or rice balls. She made every lunch box with total dedication and passion.

One day, I untied the napkin, opened the clingfilm and started eating a sandwich. I was surprised to find a sheet of nori seaweed on top of the ham and cheese.

My schoolmates and I were accustomed to British-style sandwiches, with lettuce, thinly sliced cucumbers, tomatoes, ham and cheese. Nori seaweed was something we ate in Japanese dishes, never in a sandwich. As a self-conscious teenager, I was awfully embarrassed to be seen eating that seaweed in front of my schoolmates.

I went home and said to my mother, ‘Nobody puts seaweed in a sandwich!’

She said, ‘Well, seaweed is good for you, but I will try not to do it again.’

Today I realise that I was too young to appreciate her creatvity.

**************************************************************************************************

This is so heart-warming! I can’t help but want to share some of the good stuff over here. Sorry if some of you found it boring, but to those who enjoyed it, you may wish to consider reading the book. I really admire the Japanese people’s spirit and dedication towards food. Now, I shall continue my journey in further exploring this amazing culture! The mere description of the food ingredients made me hungry … haha! So, itadakimasu!! 

Life is certainly not a bed of roses, but it can be worse as it is sometimes covered with thorns. Lately I have no choice but to ask myself if there are certain principles or values which I should give up in compromise for some things. These values have been nurtured as I become older, hence I firmly believe in them and hope that they would be part of my life. However, sometimes life is really cruel and you are forced to make a choice between certain important things and these values you so treasure.

Fate has somehow decided that I should not have these values and that I have to learn to bear with the pain. I am not ready to give them up and succumb to living life in a compromising and absurd way (at least I think it is still unacceptable for now), but still, reality has shown me that things are not going to change for the better. I have only two options, one is to give up certain things in exchange for my values and the other is vice versa.

I am probably going to try to psycho myself in living life differently, although I am honestly not ready to do so. Because of this, many misunderstandings have arisen and I can’t seem to get my message across, no matter how hard I try. These events brought me a lot of anger and hurt, and drove me to my limits. The only reason I can think of for my persistence is that these values mean a lot to me, they are almost my life.

The only way out now is to not think of the problem as this thing has already taken up most of my time and energy, so further dwelling on it would bring disaster. Nowadays I constantly feel tired, have become really numb, and have no mood to focus on anything, which is quite bad. I think I shall just shelve this thing for the time being and give myself some peace. I shall numb myself till I wake up from this long break.

Maybe I would see the light after taking a rest?