When Dad meets Mom

“When did you meet my mom, dad?”

I asked the question out of pure curiosity—and sheer boredom caused by the noisy yet meaningless soup opera. It seemed that my father only noticed the first part of my emotion. “Well,” obviously he was happy that I dragged him out of the exhausting watch-the-show-with-your-wife process, “we met at high school, an afternoon, when your mom was learning to ride an old bike and successfully ran into me—” Continue reading

Advertisements

Every Day a Flower Blooms in My Heart

IMG_1390
[taken in Prague on January 18th, 2015]

I was never a difficult child. That was what my mom told me.

Now when I look back, I found it a bit hard to really recall any long period of intimacy with mom and dad. They were always busy—still are. I couldn’t really remember the last time I acted in a childishly wayward manner—as other kids naturally did. Well, the last thing I ever want in this world is getting my dear loved ones into trouble. Glad that I’ve been trying my best. Continue reading

The Courage to Create

“This is a career that calls for your creativity”, “you need to be very creative on this one”, “we are looking for creative people”, etc. This is a world screaming for that flash of brain cells.

What does it mean to “create” anyway? Small as the job may be—a 3-year-old kid pouring paint onto your clear white wall—it may be regarded as something more important. Otherwise, people won’t kill for it. I see it as not only the correction of past mistakes, but the desire and acknowledgement for new possibilities, the discovery of an unknown future. What an adventurous journey! Yeah! Continue reading