YTuesday, February 20, 2007

Chinese New Year?

I know I promised that I would post an update this weekend, but I wanted to post something about Chinese New Year, and since my celebrations last a few days, I can only post AFTER I've finished celebrating. This Chinese (or Lunar, whatever you prefer) New Year, I learned many new things. I came up with new conclusions, I pondered about previously unconsidered thoughts.

One new thing I learned, was ironically, about learning. The thing I learned was that there is no such word as learnt. There is a learn, there is a learning, and there is a learner. Astounding. I now cringe at the thought of my linguistic inadequacies. Perhaps my foundation of language was built on a lie? Or is that builded? Woe is me.

I now also understand why it's called Chinese New Year, and why the other real new year isn't called Western New Year. The reason is simple. Chinese people can't count. Sure, they have done amazing things, let's not take that away from them. They built the Great Wall, they make pretty plates, and their monks have incredible kung-fu skills, which led to the hit song Kung-Fu Fighting. However, you still can't deny the fact that despite their impressive 2000 year history, they do not have the abilities to do basic arithmetic. Why do I say this? For one thing, their Chinese New Year is on a different day, EVERY SINGLE YEAR. I know the gist how it is calculated, that the system is based on the moon, but I'm not so certain about the specifics of this branch of Chinese Voodoo Magic. If this doesn't convince you that Chinese people are terrible at math, let me provide you with another piece of information. Chinese New Year lasts 15 days.

Yes, I'm baffled too. By the end of the New Year, the year isn't really that new anymore.

I know that some people like to call Chinese New Year "Lunar New Year". That annoys me. It really does. It just doesn't make any sense. The moon doesn't celebrate new year. Moon people don't celebrate the new year. Chinese people celebrate the new year. That's why we call it the Chinese New Year. In addition, since I'm an elitist snob, and like to limit the company I keep to a mere billion or so, I think Chinese New Year is for yellow people only. Sure, people of other races can enjoy their extended holiday, just don't eat my bahkua. And don't take my money.

After a lengthy debate with myself, I think my relatives hate me. And I think their rage and loathing are justified. I'm not talking about those relatives that are close to me. They're fine with me. I hope. I'm referring to those that don't know how old I am. Let us seriously consider this for a minute. I see them three times a year. One is during my grandfather's birthday party, the other is during my grandmother's birthday party. The last one is Chinese New Year. One out of every three times I see them, I take their money. I would be infuriated too. I can see the signs. A look of twisted deliriousness from the depths of hell barely masked behind a false gleaming veneer of a thin grimace that was meant to pass as a smile. A red packet, clutched tightly, a weary heart unwillingly to let go. A scream that echo upon the cavernous walls of the deep, dark, dank pit that lies within the soul.

Perhaps in the past, in the previous generation or two, family was much more important. I've heard tales from the ancient ones about how family was most important, how they depended on each other. To them, blood was thicker than water. But this is not the case anymore. These days, the blood has been diluted. It may be due to liberalization, westernization, or even modernization, who knows. But the erosion of family ties cannot be denied. Not that I'm complaining. I can be quite anti-social. Or so I'm told. Sometimes, I just can't be bothered to socialized with people. I have no desire or reason to get to know them better. Unless I can make use of or manipulate them.

Just kidding.

I'm not anti-social.

You know that kind of people who honestly do find pleasure in getting to meet new people, find out about the tiniest details of their lives, and are willing to share the tiniest details of their lives for all to hear? I'm not one of them. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure my relatives are all decent, nice, good people. Most of them, anyway, according to more stories by the ancient ones. But I'm just not one who revels in forced interactions. I'm not much of a conversationalist. Many of my exchanges with relatives/grandparent's friends/random-person-at-my-house-whom-I-do-not-know usually follow one of a few patterns.

1. "Wow! Look how tall you are!"

2. "Wow! Look how big you are!"

3. "Wow! Look how fat you are!"

There are variations. But those are the main points. They are usually followed with remarks of how much time has passed, how I used to be a little kid, or reassurances of how I will slim down, and how NS will be good for me. Sometimes I even get queries about what school or JC I'm currently studying at, so that a silent mental comparison can be made between myself and their children. As always, I acknowledge these statements with a gracious smile and nods of agreement. You must remember, I do have an ulterior motive, red blessings filled with monetary goodness.

I'm such a whore.

Cry for me. Your tears will thaw my frozen heart. A heart that was frozen by 16 YEARS OF WHORINESS.

After a lengthy 23 second chat, we stand in an awkward silence, then I move along, slowly inching away, towards sweet freedom, only to be faced with the same thing. AGAIN. 14 TIMES. Woe is, once again, me.

So what should we do? How do we overcome this problem that has plagued this generation? Is there any way we could counteract this problem? The way I see it, there are two choices. One, you arrange to meet up with them every other week. You become close friends. They become a major part of your lives. Two, you continue seeing them a handful of times a year, and just deal with the awkwardness.

May you be showered with blessings and prosperity.

Happy Chinese New Year.

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