Posts tagged with "self-portrait"

29 5/12: The Uncarved

If, 5 years ago, you asked me where I’d be now, I couldn’t have even given you a decent guess.

I never imagined I’d be working in graphic and web design at a dental lab. Or that my job would shift to more of a corporate level, something that happened because I happened to have the right set of skills at the right time.

I never imagined I’d meet people like Bronwen or Julie or Heather G, or Frédéric and Misun, or Jesse and Audra, or Shane and Krista.

I never thought I’d discover bands like Magneta Lane, The Knife, From Autumn to Ashes, and Muse.

I never knew I’d start playing the ukulele. Or have an art gallery show. Or finally, finally, finally start learning astronomy and own a telescope.

But I’m not surprised at where I’ve ended up. And who knows who I’ll meet, what I’ll do, or where I’ll be? Long ago, I decided I’d stay in Ottawa until my Tai Chi teacher retired, and that’s soon coming. This city is comfortable, but it’s also just as small, and I’ve always dreamed of living in an alpha city like Hong Kong or New York or London.

It’s easy to fall into the belief that we’re in control of our lives or our destinies. The reality is that we’re just traveling through life like leaves being carried by the current in a stream. There are so many things that can happen along the way out of our control. Connections you can’t predict. Experiences you can’t even imagine.

I turn 30 in seven months, and I don’t know where I’ll be, in life, love, or home.

The Turning 30 Series

29 4/12: The Mask

Man cannot cast off this mask; it is a projection of his own flesh and spirit. He can no longer remove from his own face this mask which has already grown like skin and flesh so he is always startled as if disbelieving this is himself, but it is in fact himself. He cannot remove this mask, and this is agony. But having manifested itself as his mask, it cannot be obliterated, because the mask is a replica of himself. It has no will of its own, or one could say it has a will but no means of expression and so prefers not to have a will. Therefore it has left man with an eternal face with which he can examine himself in amazement.

—Gao Xingjian, Soul Mountain

I turn 30 in eight months, and I still don’t know if I’m the person who smiles, or the person who hides behind the smile.

The Turning 30 Series

Brunch with Jason

Before getting on his train, Jason asked me if I was a hug-person. It was the right question, because I’m most assuredly a hug-person, and we embraced before he stepped out onto the platform.

We grew up at the same time in the same neighbourhood — a small suburb somewhere in the middle of the 500km that separates us — but never had a chance to meet until he gave a presentation in town for the HR Council for the Nonprofit Sector. Until now, we only communicated through blog comments and e‑mail exchanges.

When I first met him, it struck me how much tall he was, and how much deeper his voice was than I expected.

Jason is like me in so many ways, something I find extremely rare. We share a strong self-awareness and a penchant for self-improvement, as well as the same views on love and tastes in women. Perhaps it could be said that Jason is an extroverted version of me. We could discuss things we normally reserve for our close friends, and continue as if we had already known each other’s stories for years. He’s a true kindred spirit, and many times I felt like believing in him meant I believed in myself as well.

Brunch was filled with such stimulation that I forgot to take a picture, so I settled for this one when I went to see him off at the train station. I’m so glad I was able to capture his perpetual smile, that same smile I see in his pictures when he traveling the world, in Budapest, Ghana, New Orleans, and other places with names too foreign for me to remember.

29 3/12: The Once Loved

When I look at this picture, I see the flaws. The stretch marks on my back, and especially prominent on the side of my ass. Those strange red blemishes on my shoulder that I don’t remember having. The lack of junk in the trunk so common in Asian people. I didn’t even know I had a mole down there.

I used to have body-image issues. Always thinking I was too skinny, and too ugly.

Then someone made me feel differently. She treated every part of my body with as much attention and love as I treated hers. She was the first person to ever make me believe that I was attractive too. Some days, I felt as handsome as she was pretty.

I turn 30 in nine months, and now that she’s gone, I wonder if anyone will ever see me that way again.

The Turning 30 Series

29 2/12: The Lachrymologist

I used to be a crier. Any strong emotion, good or bad (though more often the latter), could bring on tears like a reflex. Now, I can’t remember the last time I cried, which means it’s been a while. More than a year, I suspect.

Getting misty-eyed doesn’t count; that’s too easy. A poignant scene in a movie, the right song at the right moment, even seeing someone demonstrate a Tai Chi movement with masterly detail and precision can cause my heart to swell, but the feeling only lasts as long as a few blinks after the blurred vision. When I refer to crying, I mean when the tears are enough to overflow and leak.

When I was young, the kids in school would laugh at boys who cried — much less socially acceptable in this culture — but I was never embarrassed about it. I thought it was natural, the way some people are gay or Caucasian. I thought I’d grow out of it, the way one grows out of a fear of the dark gradually and subconsciously, but I kept crying well into my 20s.

I’ve always wondered if my dad has ever cried, even as a child. I can’t picture him doing it, not even when my grandmother dies. He’s so carefree and logical that I can’t see anything affecting him emotionally. With my dad as my early model for a man, I’m sure this is part of the reason I don’t feel like an adult yet. Society teaches us that adults, or male one’s at least, aren’t supposed to cry.

I’m not sure why it’s been so long for me. Maybe the therapy, combined with my study of Taoism, has evened out my ups and downs, helping me acknowledge my weaknesses (so I’m not as hard on myself), as well as the uncontrollable nature of life. Maybe my life is stable enough now that I didn’t need that kind of release.

I turn 30 in 10 months, and I wonder when I’ll cry again.