speak slowly

after living in asia for three years, after buying numerous language and phrase books it has become clear that i will always communicate the best in english.  being fluent in another language has not been a goal since college spanish showed me that i had a lack of talent, or focus, to get a new language.  i had hoped to be able to find a second language in asia which i could become functional in.  functional is not fluent, but it would allow me to interact in a polite way, and be culturally sensitive.

i have been improving lately.  i have a dictionary i have been carrying, i am trying to read road signs rather than just looking at the pictures and scanning for english subtitles, i have sat and watched malay shows when the television is mysteriously set to those stations on clean sheet day.  i don't understand it all, but i don't think i would even if i understood all the words.  i do notice that the shows seem more like "father knows best" then "boston legal".

but, no matter how much i improve i still find that at times, speaking and speaking slowly are two different things.  i have been lulled into a comfort zone, one of my own creation.  a few weeks ago i ordered a meal in at KFC, but for the first time i did the complete transaction in malay; and for the first time i got what i wanted without the looks of confusion i am accustomed to.  i have to admit, there were a few words in there that i had no idea on, but i smiled and confidently guessed at the meaning of the words, surprisingly i guessed right and got the meal.

this was on my mind while i drove to the office and after passing my first tool booth with a solid "selamat pagi" i looked down to see the gas gauge on E and the dummy light brightly lit.  the fact that malaysian roads are geared to collecting taxes rather than enabling the driver to stop for gas or caffeine on the way into the office was one of the constant reminders that the US does make life easier than malaysia.  i did the math and decided i could get to the most convenient gas station, the one 20 minutes away in the same town as the office.

as i got to town, doing my favorite U-turn off the high way (that's the design, this country loves it's U-turns they way my home town loves its rotaries) and made the choice to get gas before work so i would not forget and be in the same situation of need on the drive home.  i pulled into the station and walked into pay before pump.  the malay girl in her petronas green and white looked at me as i handed her my RM 100 and said, "sepalau pam".  she looked at me strangely.  damn, i had done it again.  i was trying to say pump 11, and i had said pump ten... ten... sepuluh what did i say?  palau is island, i just asked her to pump one island.  okay do the math, quick she is watching... belas not  puluh.  i looked out the window again to see the number and said, "sebelas, pam sebelas".

the nice girl behind the counter smiled at me and asked me in malay, "awak cakap [something] bahasa malayu [something]?".  i replied "saya cakap bahasa sekit-sekit", opps... another mistake i have made before, i just said "i speak the language very sick, rather than very little.  "ahhh, maaf, cakap sedekit-sedekit".  she smiled again and kept going in malay, this time picking up the pace and going faster.  "[something] [something] berapa lagi malaysia" 

this one i had to take from context, i was struggling to keep up with the early part and was tossing words away as i failed to understand their meaning, but the last part was how long in malaysia, i was sure of that so i replied as quickly as i could.  "tiga hari".  she was moving behind the counter as i said it, she came to a stop to turn and look at me, the other girl turned also with a quizzical look on her face.  i knew i had made a mistake, the first girl switched to english, "three days"?

this time i was embarrassed, i searched for the word.  how often do i say year, it's not really part of my bahasa pasar (market language) vocabulary.  'jam', no that's hours, oh i have it, "tiga tahun".  both expressions changed to understanding.  i was slow but i was trying.  she shockingly started speaking in malay again, but i had lost all confidence.  too many mistakes for one stop at the gas station.  in english i asked her to speak more slowly.  i remembered all the times i have had non-native english speakers tell me i speak to quickly, and i realized that we need the ability to modulate our pace to the skills of the listener.  this must be the skill we have naturally for children, we go slower and use easier words to help them get the new language skills.

they say it's easier to pick up a language when you are a child than as an adult.  i don't think its a natural ability of youth.  it could be the effect of not having a primary language to confuse you with the assumptions you carry from it.  it could also be the lack of another language to fall back on when in need.  this simple conversation would have been learned long ago if no one in malaysia spoke english.  most times even when i start in bahasa, people switch to english so they can practice.  i am left wondering if being polite and functional is a goal at all.

it has been "tiga tahun", and i have not learned bahasa malayu.  but, i have learned that if people wanted me to learn it they would speak it to me slowly enough for me to have a chance.  and if i want to be understood, i should take a second or two more and think about what i am saying.  asking to put money on pump one island rather than pump eleven does confuse things at the gas station. 

so, let's try this again and see if we can all just speak a bit more slowly, regardless of what language we are using.

parent trap

my head seems to be hitting on a recurring theme.  it's so strange when that happens, you are having conversations across multiple days and people bring up a thread that overlaps with another from the day or week before.  over time the clothe forms and the pattern appears.  single threads interlock and you realize the shape and feel of the thought.  the conversations had no connection, the other persons themes have nothing to do with each other, but within my head i keep returning to the same pattern.

i collapsed into a chair yesterday, tired, happy and ready for a sip of grape to balance the steam i had just finished.  i had the smell of jasmine on my skin and image of a beautiful flower in my head.  i looked over and saw the smile of an old soul.  dark intelligent eyes were looking at me, they were connected to young body and a happy smile.  we struck up a conversation, my new friend was a bundle of contrasts, he is forward and shy, reminds me of my son and has an old name that means "gentle soul" or "smooth brow"; both of which appeared true.

as the conversation flowed, i was reminded of my childhood and the stress of parenting and parenting of parents.  i was reminded of my favorite mother's day movie the parent trap.  not the remake with lindsay lohan, the original with brian keith, maureen o'hara and hayley mills.  the first thought was of the grandfather played perfectly by charles ruggles, he leads the supporting cast by quietly commenting without commenting.  this is a skill my own distant grandfather chuck had mastered, but one i will need to keep trying to find.

i was reminded of one of my favorite scenes of the movie between the grandfather and the grand daughter who he has realized is not the person the rest of the house believes she is:

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Charles McKendrick: [Susan starts sniffing the coat he is wearing] My dear, what are you doing? 
Susan Evers: Making a memory. 
Charles McKendrick: Making a memory? 
Susan Evers: All my life, when I'm quite grown-up I will always remember my grandfather and how he smelled of 
[smells his jacket again] tobacco and peppermint. 
Charles McKendrick: Smelled of tobacco and peppermint. [starts chuckling] Well, I'll tell you what. I take the peppermint for my indigestion and as for the tobacco [looks around to share the secret] to make your grandmother mad. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

later, i was eating dinner with a friend who was talking about dating and trying to be the person that the right man would want to be with.  she has friends who believe that men want the flashy, sophisticated and pampered women they spend so much effort becoming.  my friend worries that the men she knows are focused on room service rather than backpacks and zip lines.  i asked when she watched the parent trap, did she like the mother who comfortably slipped into jeans or vicki the woman so clearly uncomfortable outside of designer fashion.  i know that during the camping trip i love as she is driven off by sisters, who bond over shared torment.

someone who wants the vickis of the world will get what they deserve.  the future will be one of high maintenance, shallow personality and the inability to cross a river to climb into a tree house and sweat in the afternoon heat while watching gibbons play in the jungle below.  it comes down to choosing what you want in a life.  do you want to go to a constructed resort or to have a genuine adventure?

this morning i read the thoughts of a friend who was talking about the themes of conflict and loss that we use to celebrate what should be the deepest love of our lives.  i had to smile, it is clear to me that there are smiles in the world and beyond, even when they come with sadness.  i again came back to the parent trap, which for me proves that the people in our lives can help us be happy by giving us space.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Verbena 'Ever's Housekeeper': It's none of my nevermind. I don't say a word. 
Mitch Evers: [turning to leave; deadpan] I know, you never say a word to anyone. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

being the child of divorce, and experiencing divorce as an adult, i watch the parent trap with a sense of recognition and hope.   i see two people who clearly remember why they liked each other in the first place.  they live on separate continents, and it works for them.  i don't believe the end where they get back together, but i do see that they will be friends.  rather than keeping the kids apart they will realize that the children are the priority, even if this means having to accept someone you could not accept in the past.

the trap keeps creeping into my head.  i want to watch these happy characters find themselves.  people seem to see the easy device of driving off the evil step mother as the theme of the movie.  that's not it at all for me.  it's getting to the place in life, like the grandfather, that you know when to keep quiet and allow those around you to make their own decisions and when to finally step in.  just as the grandfather does with his overbearing wife when he saids:

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Charles McKendrick: Louise, for once I'm putting my foot down. Now let them alone! 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

i wish i could go to a "best buy", but the local "black sails" video store just doesn't have old movies about families.  for now i am stuck with my memories.

shyness is nice

sometimes you realize you just have a different world view.  growing up half a world away, being older and more weary than most of the people around you, and having completely different music in your head can show you how true this is.  have you ever found yourself singing a song in front of someone and realizing they have never heard it? the person listening in may never have heard the band or song, they have no idea the singer was influential in your life, or the generation you came to age within.

this just happened to me, i am sitting at a table in a crowded cafe.  there are people all around me, there is music playing over the noise of conversations, kitchen sounds and staff saying "hi, good afternoon" as people walk past the front.  i heard a song this morning, and went to wikipedia to look up the band, that led to youtube and the song again.  the smiths are one of those seminally important bands for a kid that grew up in a preppy town, attended a preppy college and found alternative music during the anti-alternative years of the reagan administration.

the sounds of morrissey's lyrics and johnny marr's guitar are both haunting and comforting when they are viewed from the time and distance of maturity.  the intelligence of the prose were mulled over so many nights ago; they came at a time when life had a narrowness that was just beginning to be opened by books.  they are now viewed by experience.  a song like cemetery gates with lyrics that invite you to come together with

A dreaded sunny day, So I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side, While Wilde is on mine

is perfect for the liberal arts major who is being shown the classics for the first time.  gone are the pop artists of youth, the world of substance is opening.  with it you find a band that makes you feel that intelligence and passion are both allowed and normal.

now add to that songs like girlfriend in a coma, that taps onto an emotion that anyone going through early adulthood will have felt, 

Girlfriend in a coma, I know, I know - it's really serious

There were times when I could have "murdered" her

(But you know, I would hate, Anything to happen to her)

i can remember singing this as loud as possible in my dorm room, feeling the depth of the emotion, enjoying the fact that someone else could feel it just as clearly as i did.  that someone in the world had put a voice to the emotion.  i have sang this same song again over the years, but maybe never as loud.

other songs just make me smile, no matter how many times i have head the words i break into a grin and love the fact that morrissey could be comfortable enough to record some girls are bigger than others.  the oblivious to shame song that starts:

From the ice-age to the dole-age

There is but one concern I have just discovered :

Some girls are bigger than others

Some girls are bigger than others

Some girl's mothers are bigger than other girl's mothers

and then ends with the offer of a lifetime:

Send me the pillow ..., The one that you dream on ...

Send me the pillow ..., The one that you dream on ...

And I'll send you mine

songs like this can make you feel good even at times when you might need to be more guarded and aware of your surroundings.  like driving back from a late afternoon family gathering when you reach for the volume button to turn up the beat to sing along with the band.  it is common for the kids to hear morrissey's lyrics; they have grown up with them.  most of the car sings along as a happy reflex, done without a second thought; until you realize the kids have been joined by your mother in-law.  she is sitting behind you and is clearly wondering why you and your nine year-old daughter are so happily crooning these lyrics of comparison.

but the song that made me smile today was ask.  i am close to sure it is one that the pretty chinese girl sitting next to me had never heard before.  the half turned head with the hidden smile, one meant to not be shared with her lunch mate, was just for us.  the words that had come from my laptop where:

Shyness is nice and shyness can stop you

From doing all the things in life you'd like to

i did not understand this song when i first heard it so long ago.  i needed to see more of the world, to meet more people with different world views.  doc savage was trying to teach us about the world he had seen, but we were unable to grasp what he was saying.  even with the smiths to back up his stories, we didn't have the experience or openness to accept the message.  as i look over and see a smile, so many years later, the next verse comes across so clearly:

Coyness is nice and coyness can stop you

From saying all the things in life you'd like to

google jobs

i woke up yesterday to an email with links to something on google.  this isn't all that uncommon, people send links all the time.  but these links were different.  they were to jobs, and the email suggested that the jobs sounded like they were written for me.  as i looked them over they were tempting.  the roles looked interesting, i would be in the US again close to my kids and i would be working for the number one cool internet company right now.

google is the new microsoft in our space.  by comparing them to microsoft i show the path of my maturity along with the internet.  i started at a time when 4GL was the hot TLA.  sqlwindows v powerbuilder was the argument around the table when new projects were kicked off.  VB, COM, DCOM and .Net changed all of that for me.  i was known as someone who had my full drink of kool-aid.  i studied internals and obsessed over patterns and performance.  i was there when MVC was added to MFC, i studied EJB 1.0, 1.1 and 2.0 and agreed each time that design by a committee of competitors is the right way to kill a good idea.

i am old and i have been around the block.  i have the bookshelves and dead company t-shirts to prove it.  i know that c# is literally cool, and can remember the birds of a feather breakout in a smoke-covered LA that the Project 7 team explained it.  that was the same week that i learned the internals of generational garbage collection, the same topic i used this week to explain why a precieved issue was not.

google is the company that most geeks want to work for now.  they are a hip company with a list of top ten reasons you should work for them.  if you read the list, you can see why smart people want to work there.  they are hot and sexy, of course people are attracted.  but why would i be attracted.  i have a job, its one i like and one i am not really ready to leave.

work for me is more than just a job.  i have a career that i love, i have had a series of jobs that i have loved, good times and bad have happened, but when i look back i remember that i have been successful, happy and in control.  i have tried to do the things that i love, to focus on having fun and enjoying the work, the challenges and the victories.  i used to say that one day i would retire to a job as a barber, i thought it was the perfect job, even if you make a mistake the hair will grow back and you get another chance, but tastes and cuts change over time, so experimentation and discovery is built in.

i replied to the email and said i wasn't sure about applying.  the ads looked good, and the change of pace sounds exciting.  but change for change sake is not what i want.  i have a team i care about, i am busy and i learn something almost every day.  i have already stayed in this company and this role longer than i expected and the ADD side of my head would love something new.  but actively seeking that something is a distraction i don't need right now.  

even when things present themselves, sometimes you need to say no.  you might be saying no to the promise of something better, to the expectation of improvement or to the internal drive that is pushing you to consider the offer.  if prior booms and busts didn't teach me this before i came here, malaysia certainly has.  there is always the promise of the next big thing.

the reply i got on the email thread was a question, "how do you know you are good enough to get it if you don't try".  this is when you realize the person knows your buttons well enough that they push them the way a touch typist strikes the keys; clear, strong and effortless.  creating desire even when you have no interest is a talent, one that is built up over time.

so, i am working on the top ten reasons not to apply. 

1) ....

    

taupow lifestyle

one of the things about working the hours i work is needing to plan. i have staff who i need to plan careers with, i have capital expenditures which need to be considered and budgeted. i have annual international child movements that requires more planning than almost any professional task of the entire year. but the most frequent planning exercise i need to conduct is driving back to expat land, feeding myself, and remaining available for long distance conference calls at very odd hours.

i remember a time when work would slow down as the sun slipped below the horizon. this was not always the norm; driving home during a blizzard on a conference-call, hands clenching the wheel in an effort to calm the fear of passing large trucks without a stable grip of wheels to road, was known to have happened in the past. but most nights i would stop in the grocery store to get the final dinner ingredients, and would come into a noisy kitchen just as dinner prep moved to construction mode.

food used to be something built, planned a week ahead or thrown together based on what was available, dinner was an event of coordinating multiple schedules, tastes and moods. the process would start for me with a conversation on the ride home. it started with a question, "what do you want for dinner?" the riddle was that the question was not what it seemed on face value, it was not what i wanted that was in question, but if i would accept what had been decided upon. this was my first zen lesson, one that i failed miserably.

living alone has made this process much less complex. i now have factors what need to be weighed, it is now all about what i want for dinner. i can make the choice, just from a shortened list of possible selections. gone are the tacos, quesidillas, crepes, stews, steaks, pancakes and waffles of the past. the years of declaring easy nights as yoyo (you're on your own) have faded away; the term has taken a whole new meaning.

the peace of not having to choose is gone, and the choices are far fewer than in the past. cooking for one, with a crazy work schedule, barely functional kitchen and aversion to parking underground and taking an elevator to a supermarket takes it toll. i have realized that in the past few years i have changed my definition of buying groceries. i am living a taupow lifestyle.

the key to taupow living is to know your local restaurants well, make friends and purchase in bulk when you go. mom always said that food was better the second day. that might have been a way to convince her children that old food was better than new, but somehow i still believe her. flavors do seem to melt together over time. this might be why i have the love of leftovers; which is such a negative term, mom always said, "saving the best for last".

i was talking about this with a friend and she said, "i like to eat taupow, so i can just eat out of the containers". i broke into a big smile, that's it exactly. the KL lifestyle totally works for the expat living alone. you move in with clothes and little else. you find a menu you like and you start eating there, over time you steal 5 or so spoons and you start bringing containers home to eat directly out of them. no need to wash a plate; much less pots and pans. you can watch a "local copy" dvd and relax, rather than standing at the sink and busting suds. even your once a week maid likes it, she only needs to wash 5 spoons and water glass.

[malaysians if they use a utensil will use a spoon, knives and forks are for rich people, all you need in life is a soup spoon. many just use their hands, which explains the sinks in the middle of restaurants, but that's a different blog]

i am now in planning mode for the kids to arrive for the summer (people in KL have no idea what summer means, the weather is always summer here, and the kids are not out of school in july and august). that has me wondering if i need to change this behavior. i downshift much of my lifestyle when they are here. but i can sense that almost it's time for the negotiations to begin again. i am no longer going to be on my own, i have three personalities and tastes to accomadate.

thank god we have hawker stands. its like take out without needing to go home. it is perfect for yoyo every night. everyone gets to eat what they want, with 20 micro kitchens cooking everyone can happy.

KL has issues, two are mall based grocery stores and a lack of cooking stores, but it has just meant a change. learning to take away the best of what you can, and relaxing at home are good things. they are things the taupow living have given me. lets hope the kids still agree.

something permanent

yes, it's done. i am now one of those who are inked. the design is maori, the pain was less than i expected, the final result is not what i visualized; but it is something i like. the major question from people has been, "what does it mean?" getting to an answer that satisfies is not that easy for me. i suppose that's because the real meaning of the tattoo is not visual, it is not a function of the tattoo, but it is a function of what it represents.


i had said for years that if i found a design i liked, i would be fine with getting a tattoo. someone close to me would remind me that ink:

1. is not a common expectation for upper management types
2. is not something my preppy irish catholic style embraces
3. is known to be toxic; and can cause health issues
4. can not be easily reversed, even if it is later desired

this list makes me smile, both for the advice and for the ability to transpose these same reasons on other acts that people may choose to indulge and hide.

now the fact that i have done things like begin to shave my head for the pure reaction and enjoyment of it, or move to asia following a decision process lasting 3 seconds, its clear that i have the capacity to go in a direction that others don't expect. but shaving my head and living in the east rather than the west are both choices which i could reverse just as easily as i have made them.

as we were finishing the tattoo, my leaning artist asked why i didn't ask her to create a tattoo that told a story. the options she suggested were icons which represented my family, the kids and my ex-wife. i smiled weakly and decided not to explain that in many ways the images were tied to them already. but the language of the iconography is simply not something a travelling maori would be able to read. the ink is deeper than that.

i spent 10 years as a temporary worker, the day to day expectation that unless i excelled i would be expelled was the driving force to focusing on delivery. making sure i exceeded expectations so that i was in control of the decision on staying or going was core to my professional-life. we did it all for the passion of delivery, openly chanting to our clients, "it's all about the love!"

those days ended years ago, it is no longer all about the love. the love has grown old and passed. the ability to control the departure was removed. folding up shop and moving on was destined to happen. giving up the rooted life for one of travel and change was a reaction to the shifting of soil that had eroded and wasted down into the passing river of time.

now i live in a country that is not my own, i am learning a language that i will be able to use with almost no one outside this country, i have an apartment and car which are not the ones i own 12,000 miles away. i have added weight to the baggage i would now need to fill to move on, but books, t-shirts and guitars are individually light, even if the aggregate mass is not.

but, i now have something that i will carry with me. i was required to sign a contract saying i understood this could not be removed. i allowed a stranger to pierce my skin and inject permanence into me, creating scars that show. openly placed where i can not hide them from others, a signal that my time in asia has been real. i now have a dark band of scars on my arm which i might be able to cover, but which are clearly there any time i expose myself.

i have embraced the permanence that i have been unable to see as a part of myself. the clean white pallet has taken its first marks. these lines, curves and points may not be quickly readable by others, but they are for me. as my skin continues to leak excess ink, as the colors begin to fad with my personal pigment, as the image settles into its long-term state, i am reminded that not everything is temporary.

the next questions is where will the next permanent scars come from.