School years...

play hooky,

accordion

traumatized

...

Pre-School

A big chunk of my childhood was spent at my grandma's. It was an old building left by the wealthies before they got forced out by the communists. My grandparents had been living there ever since they first moved out to Qingdao, from the rural part of Yantai.



The building has 3 floors, and we occupied the top floor with another neightbor. The landlord converted the one-bedroom suite into two rooms. We got the living room, and the other family got the bedroom. Kitchen was across the communal hallway, and we shared the bathroom.



Grandma often praised me being quiet and drama-lite, as opposed to my cousin. They could leave me alone for hours without worrying that Im gonna run into some sort of trouble, i.e. step into the urinal, bump my head onto sth I shouldn't be near, or crying out loud for attensions, etc. I was a quiet kid from the get-go I suppose. Maybe people do get born with pre-determined temperament. All the postnatal events may not even be relevant...


My pre-school years were pretty naive and eventless too. I didn't remember any major family getaways, except for that one trip to Beijing. I remembered being hauled up 5am in the morning to catch the early train; I remembered the big piece of snowflake floating down from the dark sky while looking out of the train window; I remembered looking into the window of the emperor's bedroom in the forbidden city; and I remembered the dumplings from our hotel restaurant... ... my mom told me later on that I was really hyper during the whole trip, jump up and down, singing songs, and never shy away from strangers. As a matter of fact, I even made friends with an american couple at the restaurant...

Later when I got old enough to go to kindergarden, Mom took me back to our little apt on the west side to go to her company's childcare. Memories about the kindergarden were pretty spotty too, I remembered the yummy wonton, remebered being caught chewing chocolate during nap time, remembered bullying another girl swallowing a glob of plasticine (yeah, pretty evil)...

One anecdote Mom likes to tell often is that one time, she needed to run back to her office to pick up sth, so she asked me to wait for her in front of the building. Lest I would run around, she used her feet to draw an invisible circle on the ground and told me to stand inside of the circle till she came back. Don't go with anyone, just need to wait for Mom...and that's what I did, I stood still in
that circle for a good 5 minutes without moving. Some of my Moms' coworkers asked if I wanted to go with them, and I answered no, very firmly, need to wait for Mom...Later I wonder, if it's due to my Mom's upbrining, or someting inate, that I am such a rule-abiding person, sometimes to my detriment...I would draw those invisible circles around me, and inside those, are the so called comfort zones...

Baby years

29 years, 9 months, and 16 days ago, I was born into this world. It was 4am in the morning, or in the more traditional Lunar Calendar, 庚申年九月十五日寅时. Of course I wouldn't remember much, the early days of my life. A lot of it will be based on accounts of my Mom, my grandma, and other loved ones.

I happened to be born on the day of 霜降, a day when the fall air meets the winter freeze. Despite the harsh weather, I went home the following day cloaked in a brand-new hand-made down jacket. The one of a kind, that Grandma stayed up all night to make for me.

It was funny that I was told by Grandma several times later that my dad was not very happy with me being a girl, so that when he came back from the hospital, his steps on the stair resonate with great disappointment.

I spent the rest of my memory-less days at grandma's, because Mom and Dad's apartment was simply too small for me. Grandpa's health started deteriorating some time after I was born, but he still helped diligently with washing the diapers. One anecdote about Grandpa is that he loves to boast about my weight to other people, even during his last days at the hospital. "My granddaughter weights like a bag of flour!" he would proudly tell the guy at the next bed, left him clueless but much intrigued of this fat granddaughter of his.

Grandpa passed away someday in the winter, without my recollection. I couldn't even recall his face, except from his early pictures. But there should be no doubt, that there must exist those moments when I looked into his eyes, saw his smile and felt the warmth of his palms...

So there goes my early days, not much memory but certainly much much love...

Prologue

After watching “Julie & Julia” last night, it suddenly dawned on me that the days left while I am still in my 20s are dwindling to a mere couple of month…and what shall I do to celebrate my 20s, so they don’t just slide away like any other days?

So, one idea leaps to mind, is writing a memoir of the past 29 years of my life. Somehow, I feel, it will help me to better understand myself, and also project a clearer picture of my future. It will be a challenge: starting from 8/8/10 to 10/23/10, 77 days, and 29 years of my life to go.

With a full time job, a boy friend, and possibly another CFA exam to prepare, and the big brother big sister volunteer thing, I think this challenge should be manageable. I will basically set aside one hour everyday to devote to this project, that is 77 hours, 4620 minutes, hopefully I can do my life justice, not just reliving it, but also glean anything that I have failed to recognize as I was busy living my life.