Since going to the memorial service yesterday, I’ve been feeling just so…lousy. I’m so angry about the circumstances of life, feeling so grumpy from all the emotions and tears, and just in a rut I can’t get out of. So I wish I had a TV today that I could turn on, and just tune out all the thoughts in my head.
So, since I don’t have a TV, I tune out by looking at old pictures.
When we moved out of our East Vancouver house a few years ago, I spent countless hours scanning all of my old photos so we didn’t have to keep boxes of pictures in the small rental apartment. Having them all on my hard drive makes it much easier to browse through them.
I found some pictures that were interesting, so I figured I’d post them here. Maybe it’ll help lighten up the load a little bit in my heart, and entertain you as well.
Here’s a picture of me and my brother. We are about 2 years apart. I don’t remember his arrival, but I do vividly remember our first interactions revolved around him pulling my hair, or him crying. We had this giant shell-shaped chair in the living room for many years. The cushion has been recovered a few times. This bright orange fabric must have been in the chair’s early years.
This bright red door is the front entrance of my grandparents’ house in the south of Taiwan. For as long as I can remember, they lived in that house with a big yard. Red is a popular color for front doors because it symbolizes fortune and luck. I loved being at my grandparents’ place. They let me get away with a lot more than my mom would. I associate that house with many good memories like staying up late on Chinese New Year’s Eve. My grandparents moved out of that house into an apartment about 10 years ago. The government took back the big house and eventually demolished it.
Here’s a picture of me and two friends in junior high school in Taiwan. I’m the middle one, in case you’re wondering. A while ago I wrote about the school system in Taiwan, how we stay in the same classroom for the entire year with all the same kids. This was the classroom I practically lived in for an entire year, in my third year of junior high (grade 9). School started at 7:30 am, and ended at 10 pm. I had all three meals at schools, and really only go home to shower and sleep. Almost daily I endured lashes on the palms for not getting 85% on my tests.
Alright, one more picture. When I went to SFU, I played rugby with the club at school. I always thought I was pretty strong and tough, until I met these girls. Not only was I one of the smallest, I was also one of the weakest. I remember one time trying so hard to tackle this girl who was at least 6′ tall with manly hairy legs. I took a running start, went straight at her legs, and I just bounced off her while she stood still. She smirked a little, picked me up by the collar, and threw me at least 5 feet away like I’m a little pest bothering her. I always came out of games completely bruised and battered, but on such an adrenaline high that I can’t wait go play again. After a few broken fingers and a pushed disc in my spine, I gave up rugby. I still miss the game!