Pregnancy Recap

It’s been three weeks since I gave birth. Baby Lamlam is currently sleeping next door with our postpartum nanny, while I sit here pumping milk at 3:00 AM. The transition from pregnancy to new parenthood is a challenge I didn’t anticipate. I thought I was ready to simply "offload the little dumpling" and be done with it, but I was entirely caught up in the reality of managing my post-delivery body. It’s also a good time for me to document my pregnancy joruney:

Pre-Pregnancy For the longest time, I was ambivalent about babies. If you aren't crazy about them to begin with, why would you ever willingly put yourself through ten-plus hours of the incessant pain that is labor? Yet, by the time I turned 40, the "now or never" pressure felt undeniably real. I decided it was worth a try. If I didn't get pregnant, I wouldn't be disappointed and certainly wasn't going to pursue invasive methods like IVF. But if it happened naturally, I would welcome and embrace the change.

Pregnancy When the test came back positive, my immediate reaction was disbelief—followed quickly by panic. With so many of my friends struggling to conceive, I had assumed pregnancy was a long shot for me, too. It turns out I was somewhat of a pregnancy unicorn. Not only did I conceive naturally despite my "advanced maternal age," but I had zero complications. No preeclampsia, no morning sickness, nothing.

My only scare was entirely self-inflicted. During our second-trimester trip to Cancun, a mosquito bit my ankle during a Cenote excursion. I immediately convinced myself it was Zika. I wasted the rest of the vacation frantically calculating probabilities and worrying that we had ruined our baby. It was all a false alarm, of course; much to my relief, Lamlam’s head size eventually measured in the 71st percentile. By the third trimester, despite my growing belly, I worked up until three days before my scheduled delivery (granted, I was working from home from week 36 onward and keeping my movement to a minimum).

Delivery Because I opted for a planned C-section, there were no cinematic surprises—no sudden water breaking or frantic cab rides to the hospital in the middle of the day. The downside to a scheduled birth is that everyone else knows the exact date, too, and they spent the weeks leading up to it reminding us just how much our lives were about to change.

On the morning of the surgery, we arrived at the hospital at 5:30 AM. We were escorted to the pre-delivery room to fill out paperwork, and the nurse hooked me up to monitors and an IV. Then, Chris and I were left alone for about an hour. It felt like an eternity as I nervously waited for the doctors to arrive.

After the OB-GYN and the anesthesiologist briefly explained the process, I was taken to the operating room to be numbed. This was easily the most painful step of the entire delivery. The spinal block was administered right into my back; the nurse standing in front of me had to place both hands firmly on my shoulders to keep me from jumping at the sharp pinch. Once the medication kicked in, my lower body went entirely numb. The medical staff casually chatted about K-dramas and C-dramas while setting up the catheter and the sterile drape. The doctor reassured me that I might feel some tugging, but no pain.

When Chris was brought into the room, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on him. I didn't want to accidentally catch a glimpse of the surgery in the reflection of the overhead surgical lights.

The first indication of her arrival was the sound of crying. I looked at Chris and asked, “Is Lamlam out?” And there she was, born at 8:41 AM. Neither of us cried—we’ve never been the overly emotional or expressive types. While I was being sewn back up, Lamlam was cleaned and weighed. The entire process was painless, and afterward, my doctor called it a "textbook" C-section. It went as smoothly as it possibly could have.

Recovery Chris and I spent the next three nights in the hospital. On the first day, I was completely bedbound. With the catheter still attached, my entire existence happened in that bed: eating, peeing, nursing, and sleeping. Sensation only partially returned to my legs later that afternoon. The day was a blur of frequent check-ins from nurses, doctors, and lactation consultants—checking vitals, filling out paperwork, and teaching me how to nurse.

Breastfeeding proved to be quite painful; the latching hurt, and the soreness persisted throughout the entire feed. Because of this, I was incredibly grateful for the hospital’s overnight nursery. They fed Lamlam formula, which allowed me to catch five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

By the second day, with a nurse's help, I managed to swing my legs off the bed and eventually shuffle slowly to the bathroom. I couldn’t stand up straight out of fear that I would rip my stitches open, so my posture was hilariously hunched. Once the catheter was removed, peeing on my own for the first time in a day and a half was a bizarre experience. The urge was there, but nothing came easily. It started with just a few drops, and I had to sit on the toilet for a full ten minutes before I could completely empty my bladder.

My mobility improved significantly by the third day, though I kept my laps confined to the room. My pain level peaked at a very manageable 2 out of 10, controlled entirely by oral painkillers, and I was finally able to take a shower. My belly, however, remained incredibly round—I still looked about 70% pregnant.

We were discharged on the afternoon of the fourth day. By then, I could walk naturally, if a bit slowly. Before heading home to start our new life, we made a pit stop to pick up boba, knowing I’d likely be housebound for a while.

Newborn Life We were fortunate enough to hire a postpartum nanny for our first month to ease the transition into parenthood, but surprises still caught me off guard. On our first night home, I was terrified by a sudden, intense pain from engorgement in my chest. I frantically dragged out the breast pump I had bought a month prior but never opened. I scrambled through the manual, but for ten excruciating minutes, the machine wouldn't pump. In my panic, I had forgotten to attach the duckbill valves to the flanges. Chris tried to help, but accidentally cranked the suction intensity all the way up—I almost screamed.

Looking ahead to the days when the nanny leaves, I’m hoping Lamlam can stretch her overnight sleep a bit longer so we aren't waking up two or three times a night once she hits the one-month mark. I also foresee myself transitioning to more pumping and less direct breastfeeding, as the little dumpling has a stubborn habit of falling asleep right at the source.

Randy

This cannot possibly be the end. At this age, I don't have that many friends left, nor do I make many new friends. And I thought even long after we both finish at Mission Lane, we would still hang out regularly and visit each other. There are still so many more conversations I want to have with you. So many cocktails we still have to share. I refuse to believe that you took your life. You once told me you are an optimistic person. Optimistic people just don’t do this, right? This must have been an accident, and you didn’t mean it. And you are a jokester  - is this all a practical joke that you played on us? If you don’t want to work with us anymore, just tell us… You don't have to disappear.

You were kind, brilliant, humble, witty, and charming. You found lightness in the most serious situations; you diffused tension in heated arguments, and you solved the most gnarly technical problem. You were the voice of reason and the glue of the team, and you were the reason that I found myself at home in Mission Lane. You saw something in me that I didn't know I had. And you always told me that I was too hard on myself when I agonized over a less than stellar presentation. How could it be that the first time I met you in person was also the last time? How is it fair that you lose someone just when you thought you found a kindred spirit?

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When I was working on the Cicada project, I was stuck on the problem risk group construction. You came up with a coding solution that to this date still blows my mind. I felt so proud to call you my teammate.

And then there were all the Slack conversations that I couldn't help but chuckle at every time I think about it:

Do you remember the back-and-forth we had on Slack regarding the naming of the hardcut approval model? Do you remember the thread about ketchup? What about the time when we had a long-winded discussion on how to encourage DM applicants to not apply via CK?

Would the hours long conversations we had during onsite be something that you cherish when you look back? Those are the conversations that inspired and energized me. I was able to have a glance at the fear, your childhood and family behind the brilliant mind. They were dear to my heart and I would never imagine being able to carry a conversation like this in a work setting. And do you remember the moment when you tried to get me to look away just so you could steal a fry from my plate? That childishness, that smile. 

Do you know? I said I didn't like to be called a "bro" but I was secretly happen when you called me your "bro". Because we are tight. We are buddies.

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Did you secretly want to ask for help? Or have you asked for help, and I missed all the signs? You acted too normal, too functional - to a point that I wondered how could a person dealing with ending a 12-year relationship be so calm. Perhaps I should have pressed more. Perhaps I should have asked more questions. There are only regrets and sorrow now.

I am deeply thankful for 2.5 years of mentorship, friendship, support, trust, and most importantly, laughters. 

I just so badly wish for more. 

I don’t know if the hole you left behind would ever be filled again. But I hope you found peace. I miss you soooo dearly Randy.

PhD Episode 1: the enthusiastic and naive newbie

the goal that seemed so far away

It was not that long ago — 4 years and 9 months to be exact — when I was an enthusiastic grad student, full of research ideas and ready to dive into the immensity of economics to seek for the “truth” in this world. I was so baffled by the politics and economy of Hong Kong at that time, and I hoped that economics, through its logical reasoning and rigorous mathematical deviation, could help me arrive at some fundamental relationship in understanding factors leading to a just society. From a career perspective, working as a researcher also seemed like a noble pursuit, free from the politics and struggle in a corporate that I dreaded.

The reality check came fast and hard though. I failed my first attempt at quals, the first hurdle to overcome in order to move on in the PhD program. You can attempt the quals 3 times and if you fail all 3 times, you are out. Quals are, however, offered only two times a year — once before and once after the summer — that means, if you fail them 2 times, you have to wait another year before taking them again, effectively delaying your graduation by wasting a year on quals rather than on research. The pressure to pass in the second attempt was thus enormous. It was no exaggeration that the summer after my 1st year was the most miserable 3 months in my life as i spent everyday reviewing the material that seemed so distant from what I remotely cared about.

Spending every day reviewing past qual questions was demoralizing. So I tried to help myself to not feel that all time was wasted by developing some research ideas. I wrote down something that in retrospect did not make any sense but at the time felt like a brilliant idea, and sent it to a renowned professor in the field asking for comments. He wrote back:

“ You think that you have an idea that you wish to develop. I am delighted and want to encourage you to pursue the idea. It could be that the trouble that I have understanding what you have written is entirely due to my own limitations. You should talk to others to see if they are better able to follow you. I think that it is likely that others will also have difficulty with your formulation. If so, then it would be worthwhile to “get better socialized” by looking at how authors motivate their research and formulate research questions.”

My face was burning. I could not even force myself to read on after the first sentence. I just embarrassed myself in front of the leading authority of the field. Quite literally, I just wanted to find a cave and hide. Do I still have a future? Should I just quit the program now? I still remember vividly the few days that I laid down on the sofa, listless, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about nothing but quitting.

I was quite beaten up at that point, and decided to leave the program if I failed again the second time, and would not attempt for the third time no matter what. But well, I managed to pass at the end of the summer.

“Guess i would stay on, ”

To celebrate the milestone, I got some ink on my skin. It was a feather, a symbol of putting it down.

Sumedh

He took his life last week, apparently on his birthday. A week after the summer fellowship ended. None of us knew why.

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My first impression of Sumedh was one of intimation. In a training session during the first week of the fellowship, I, Sumedh, and another fellow were in the same group trying to work out a problem. At one point the team was stuck, and I was struggling to follow the discussion he was having with another teammate. I could tell his command of the subject was way beyond me. He said that there was something wrong with the solution that was given, and waited to talk to the presenter afterward trying to figure out why the solution was the way it was. His insistence made me feel uneasy but the genuineness was undeniable. I was ashamed of myself.

We spent a whole day together with 2 other DSSGer on the scavenger hunt. He had a great laugh when I told him the joke about the revolving door, of which I stole from Lin. It was the kind of laughter that put you at ease. I went on telling him about my research, and he was genuinely interested — not like the “oh it sounds really interesting” type of response I typically get from talking about my own research. He listened carefully and asked thoughtful questions. I was touched.

In another gathering in unit 426 early in the summer, a couple of us stayed late and just chatted about random topics: Donald Trump, giraffes, number theory …etc. He was the life of the discussion. And then at one point, he halted and asked the group: “Can I tell you guys my favorite theorem by Terrance Tao?” sounding like a fan talking about his idol. He then went on describing with clarity a seemingly simple mathematical statement. I was very impressed.

Towards the end of the summer, Sumedh hosted a party at their unit. I arrived late and walked in alone. I grabbed a beer and stood alone awkwardly, not sure whom I should strike a conversation with. Probably noticing my uneasiness, he walked towards me and started telling me how he loved my sweater and we exchanged a few words. I was grateful.

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I will raise a glass for you tonight. You have been an inspiration.

the best team

In the last party of the summer,  I had a brief chat with Rayid. He said that we were similar to last year's cohort individually but had different collective identity as teams. I thought that was an interesting comment as it highlights how even when everyone is chill and reasonable, there could still be strange team dynamics.

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Teamwork can be tricky, and our team certainly had our share of drama this summer.

I was excited when I received the team assignment in the second week: H is the youngest on the team and also my roommate. She is always the life of the party and can make you feel like you are the most important person in the world when you talk to her. Y, whom I spoke to almost the entire time during the rooftop party in the first week, has done very interesting things in life. She was confident, direct and we hit it off immediately. R joined in the 3rd week. I was nevertheless impressed by his profile (wrote a machine learning textbook?! come on now. ). I was sure that our team was the best team.  The Milwaukee project also ranked the highest on my preference list in terms of the issue I care about. Everything seemed perfect.

We had some initial success as a team, scoring high matching rate between the two datasets that were given to us. The ultimate goal of our partner is to set up a data platform where different public agencies can come together and share information. Being able to match individuals across was therefore crucial. Things became slightly more difficult when it was time to build a pipeline. No one has undertaken a software engineering-task before so naturally it was difficult to muddle through. Knowing that machine learning is not my expertise, I was hoping to sit back and let others do most of the talking and decision-making in meetings. But the plan was only half-fulfilled. I still let others to do most of the talking, only raising voice to ask dumb questions when I was lost.  But it came a point when I realized everyone has equal responsibility and I pushed through a suggestion which I was proud.

The real test came in August. Bugs were found. Our pipeline was not working the way it should. Pressure was piling. The air in the team suddenly felt dead, and it was visible to everyone that there was something wrong. I suddenly found myself needing to speak more which is not my strong-suit: responding to the partner in phone meeting, speaking to our manager about the team dynamics, checking in with everyone on their progress. It was a stressful week.

The air was cleared the next week but the pressure kept on mounting.  With an approaching deadline and no actual deliverable planned, I became more frustrated, and was led astray to think that I was the only one who cared. I was upset at everyone. But the frustration dissipated in the night before our deep-dive presentation, when we all stayed late in the office to get everything ready while eating ice-cream. Yes, dessert definitely helps fight negative feelings but more importantly, I felt that we were in this together. We pulled it off, I mused after we finished the presentation next day.

It was not always easy, but in the end, I am very very proud of team Milwaukee. And I still think we have the best team.

These people were a social good for me

I am coming back to this half-abandoned blog to write about this past summer. The summer spent with DSSG has exceeded all my expectations by a large margin. Chicago was amazing, but it was the people whom made this experience truly special. I met people who have different outlooks on life, yet share similar passion and drive as mine. I met people who are years younger than me, but exhibit maturity way beyond their age. I met people who are brilliant in what they do, and yet so willing to teach and share their knowledge. I also met people who ease between different identities, programming in the day and making music in the night.

I reckon it is difficult to make new friends - friends whom you can call up and talk about your sadness, and friends whom you would travel miles to visit - at a ripe age of 31; It takes a lot of effort to impress another person, then to find common ground. From there, it is an another hurdle to overcome if you want to connect on a deeper level.  Yet I have found friends in the last 3 months. And I recall vividly the exact moments when I realized that some of these people will stick around in my life beyond the summer:

1. unDSSG was a day when stations were set up across the office and all DSSGers have to teach others something unrelated to DSSG in their own booth. I taught people how to make sushi in the morning, and the day ended with copious amount of alcohol consumption like many other events in the summer. So I was finishing up my drink near the ping pong table, and then I realized the beers might soon be out. I texted Y, my teammate, and asked her  to save me a beer in the kitchen. I then went on playing ping pong. A few moments later, Y brought me a cider and then she went about doing her own thing. I texted her again, and protested that a cider is not the same as a beer. Another few moments later,  somebody put an arm around my shoulder from behind when I was completely unaware and jokingly said "are you complaining??" in my ears. It was Y, of course. I said, "How dare I?". There we were, head to head, laughing. I knew I found a friend.

2. It would be impossible talk about Y without K. K is always bubbly, and she has a remarkable ability to strike conversations and make friends with strangers.  The "connected" moment between us didn't come until much later in the summer, though. It was the last week of the fellowship. 6pm-ish.  I was walking out of the office planning to go back to dorm to cook some food and get ready before going to see the movie "Sausage Party" while K was sitting on the couch alone, still working on the technical plan. It was rare to see K without Y. I stopped and was about to exchange a few words. K somehow convinced me to change my plan (as she always did) to go grab drinks with her. We ended up at the bar area in Girl and the Goat, sipping cocktails. We talked about what girls talk about. At one point, she decided that she would illustrate to me what she was talking about with a hand gesture. I was bewildered, looked around the bar table to check if anyone was looking at us, and immediately trying to stop her. We looked at each others and laughed hysterically, and that sealed the deal.

3. E is a hipster. Everything E does spells 'cool'.  I knew early on I wanted to be friends with E. But being a hopeless introvert, I didn't actively pursue the friendship. One weekend in the summer, I planned to go hiking and invited a few people to come along; only E came in the end. So the two of us spent a few hours in the car, and in the woods, just talking about music, start-ups, random topics on education and culture. We also shared our traveling horror stories, which turned out to be quite funny in retrospect. It struck me how much similarities we shared (though I am not as cool) and somehow, I was sure that our paths would cross again. 

4.  426 is a unit number at the University Center. The single ladies in 426 came from different countries, and have very different personalities but their singlesness unite them. One day in the early summer a movie night was planned, and it was then decided that the 3 ladies living in 426 shall be collectively referred as the "single ladies".  The movie was "the Danish Girl" and it was the perfect choice. For the next few days, the morning greetings in 426 went like this: "Am I pretty enough?", "Of course you are"  "But I’ll never be as pretty as you."  Single lady L subsequently started a tumblr account called "singleladieswatchingthings", recording the pathetic lives of the ladies over the summer. New member was admitted later in the summer and it has aroused some jealousy of the old members due to his prettiness, but it was an invaluable addition regardless.  

PB

More than 2 months have gone by since the breakup. From the initial reluctance to part, to a slim sense of relief, and to now, an insurmountable emptiness and a lingering poignancy, a part of me is still hurting.  But perhaps because of that, I found myself closer to my heart than to my head. I worried too much that my head dominates my action and that I commit to a relationship because my head tells me that it is the logical thing to do. I guess the worry stemmed from my fear that he matched too well with the image of a "perfect boyfriend" in my head - an "overjustification" effect as economists would call. Was I trying too hard? Was I not trying enough? I mused all the time. But at this very moment I know that it was not my head that was in the relationship with J - my heart was. It was a relief to learn that, though it doesn't matter now.

I spent a lot of money the last month to redirect my attention to myself. Couple thousands on invisalign, hundreds on make up and skin care. They say money doesn't buy happiness but I did feel better - i looked myself into the mirror and told myself that ”私なら大丈夫”. I also realized how much I want to be closer to family and friends, and more and more I want to move back to the bay area. It would have been silly to give up the control of my life to academia.

He is different though. He is still climbing the ladders, and wants to see the view from up there. I believe he will find his place in this world soon.

At 30 years old, I face the same social pressure to get married as many people do in my age group. But I know that I am also responsible for my own happiness. These days I am starting to form images of a future in which I would live in a small house with tasteful furniture, accompanied by a dog. I would do research, brew my own coffee and read in the home office, and invite friends over for dinner in the weekends. In long holidays, I would go traveling - maybe visit Japan once in a while - and explore the world while I can still walk and run. Nothing extravagant, just a simple life.

some inconsequential feelings

Here I am, alone in the hotel room in Page, on Christmas night. There is no Christmas carol, but I put Sakamoto's "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence" on loop in my iphone. The music speaks my melancholy, and of course, the tile is apt for Christmas. There is no Christmas feast, and instead I had Blackberries that I bought from Safeway earlier today. The TV is off, and the book that I brought along on the trip - Jared Diamond's "the World Until Yesterday" is laid open. The chapter is on bilingualism. But I am not reading, in fact, I do not feel like taking in any knowledge this very moment. Rather I want to say something, be heard, in any tongue that I can manage and in any forms of expressions that people can understand. Realize no one is listening, I talk to my heart.

This has been the worst year of my life, I reckon. I drank a lot, the most in my life. I made mistakes in relationships, and I repent for not able to say my feelings. I did not do well in school, but that I have no excuse for. I have been a let-down. I start to think whether I have a problem and if so what is it. Earlier last week, an acquaintance in the past told me he did not want to hear from me anymore after I said it would be better for us to remain friends. The very next day he wrote to me saying what a fool he was, and wanted to fix things. I did not respond and that was that. Looking back, the manner of his leave-taking had begun a constriction which neither of us knew how to arrest. Ties can be cut but harm cannot be undone easily. I was on the other side of things 2 months earlier. I thought I found a kindred spirit but he said it would be more "convenient" that we remained friends. Not wanting to push for anything, I did not object, thinking that this is how mature adults handle rejections. Unable to advance from friendship, I later faded away. Yet, it still comes as a shock when he announces he is now an item with somebody. I realized what was "inconvenient" was me afterall. The idea that he could have been my best friend is proof of some horrifying taint in me.

I value purity and simplicity in life. That relationships are not bounded by expectations and responsibility but a real sense of affection, that social or biological contracts that bind us together as a unit are unnecessary. One of my greatest fear is to call my frail grandmother in HK. It is not because I am scared of dealing with the imminent end of one's life. In fact I always imagine what is it like to die. And I love my grandmother with all my heart. But the call itself was by no means an expression of love. It was a scoring mechanism. I'd call knowing that my watchful relatives keep a "love score" in their head. The presence of this thought marred the purity of the care I want to express. Everytime I call, I would run over what I was about to say in the call in advance and try to make sure I show enough affections in each sentence. And yet after each call, I would breath out a long sigh, as if I have just overcome a huge barrier but not without pain.

Here I am, letting out some of my feelings. They are inconsequential and unworthy of anyone's time. But I thought this might be part of the healing process. I haven't been able to bring them up to anybody in the past. And instead of avoiding them or pretending that they are not there, I decided to come in terms with myself.

Merry Christmas, O.

王家衛／無力感／離開

One of the most beautiful scenes in "In the mood for love"

In Hong Kong, Wong Kar-wai is a well-known director but his films did not generate a lot of commercial success locally. Shall I say, his artistry simply does not mesh very well with a city that speaks money and efficiency only. And frankly speaking, I have not watched a single movie by him before coming to the States. But as of late, as I desperately seek out for something to resonate with, I found Wong's movies deeply moving - perhaps because i have reached the ripe age to have had a small glimpse on life's irregularities.

Then, it struck me how aptly the films portray the city and its people.

One of the consistent traits of his movies is the powerlessness and passiveness of individuals. To a large extent the characters perceive their lives as beyond what they can control and they do not impose their will with determination. The couple in "In the Mood for Love" who are trapped by self-guilt and consciences that demand them to act within social boundaries; the protagonist in "Days of Being wild" who can't gravitate his life towards anything; In "The Grandmaster" the main female character could not freely pursue the relationship she wanted. The powerlessness is precisely what people in Hong Kong have undergone since the 90s. The Hong Kong-ers did not have any say in the future nor could we affect the bigger political economic environment. I thought this sentiment echoes strangely well with the underlying irony of Hong Kong's prosperity.

Perhaps more subtle than individual powerlessness and passiveness is the repeating idea that people are always  moving to somewhere else. In order to start a new life, the characters move to a new place, leaving everything behind, often without qualm. In "In the mood of Love", the main male character moves to Singapore to escape from the unfulfilling love; In "Days of Being Wild" the two main male characters leave for Philippines with very different purposes but underneath the indifferences they mask themselves, they just want to run off from the unsatisfactory lives in Hong Kong. And in the "Grandmaster", Ip flees to Hong Kong because of the war, leaving his family behind in the mainland. In "Happy Together", the couple was on some journey in Argentina and they go from one place to another, can't seem to find a way back home. As well, people in Hong Kong are always on the move. From the generations of our grandparents who came to Hong Kong to escape communist rule to current Hong Kong-ese whom so eager to secure passports from some Western countries, Hong Kong is perhaps a mere transitory location to many. Why do we move so often? Are we facing problems so difficult and daunting that leaving is the only feasible option? Are we truly so powerless that our fate is beyond our ability to control or influence on?

I wish the movies would say more. But in the end, the character are just simply being. Floating along. In a hopelessly romantic but transient space.

Come sit with me a while

As I re-read my old entry on leaving my first job 3 years ago, I realized that I am experiencing the same emotional distress as I was then. The same self-doubts, frustrations and anger. But this time, there are no shoulders to shed tears on and there is no reassuring encouragement from anyone. I sit alone in my arm chair, eyes getting moisten every now and then, and feeling exhausted even though I have been physically inactive for the last few months. The despair is slowing eating me alive. It is not that I am the loser of this game that draws self-pity but rather, the feeling that your heart gets trampled on when you so eagerly had it laid bare. The stint with my last employer was a simple give-and-take relationship and nothing in the work evoked a deeper calling. By choosing to return to school I made a commitment on my future and sacrificed earning potential. I remember once saying that being able to make a commitment and sacrifice for a cause is a happiness in itself because you have found things in life that are worth giving up pure hedonistic pursuit. So I thought I was content. And yet, much like a romantic relationship, just because you chose it does not mean it would also choose you. I ticked through the long contact list on my phone but there is no one I could call. Maybe, I am not as self-content as I imagined myself to be. 

Bullying

Few weeks back when sensei was in town, he and I briefly talked about bullying in schools in Japan and he stated the main culprit was the demographic and cultural homogeneity in Japan. It then got me wondering why in Hong Kong, the phenomenon was not as widespread despite also being a highly homogenous society. When I was growing up, there was always a fear of not being popular in school and that lunch break would be spent eating alone. So there was definitely a pressure to fit in. But outright bullying was rare. We all seemed to be too busy doing our own things: going to cram school,  learning some musical instruments, practicing some sports, taking extra language class...etc, and did not have time to go out of our way to bully specific classmate. It probably has something to do with the culture: Hong Kong has less emphasis on team success and instead, getting ahead of each other is important. So being different (in a good way) arouses jealousy but jealousy does not translate so much into resentment. It just adds to the competitive pressure in school. There are many reasons that can attribute to the differences in culture and one of them might have been that Hong Kongese are always highly insecure about our own livelihood. With an de-facto non-existent social net and a Darwinian like economy, there is simply not much we can fall back on. And that culture is transmitted into schools. So i guess in that sense,  the culture curbs bullying at school because school's purpose is reduced to simply helping students prepare for exams, but not so much a place for students to socialize.

Exit, Voice and Loyalty: A Reflection

One of the questions that I have been thinking a lot is why hasn't a revolution broke out in China yet. Why do people choose to suffer in silence instead of voicing out the unjust? Why do so many people defend and embrace a deteriorating leadership with zest despite all the wrongdoings that it has committed? And after a few words with Prof Sobel on the topic, he suggested me to read "Exit, Voice and Loyalty" to acquire an intellectual framework in thinking about these issues. It is a little book of mere 126 pages but has in it burst of insightful and interesting ideas that intersect economics with politics.  Some of the ideas seem counter-intuitive to economists but are nevertheless extremely relevant in understanding today's political economy.

Exit and Voice are the two main approaches that customers-members of organization can adopt in response to lapse in quality of the service/products that the organizations produce. In the traditional competitive market model the exit of the customers is hailed as the "Invisible Hand" at work, that is, market responses inflict pressure on management to improve quality of the products so only the best firms survive. In this sense the more elastic demand is the better it is for the functioning of the economic system. The exit option, however, is not usually available in political systems, leaving voice the only feedback mechanism. Moreover in totalitarian states neither voice nor exit is possible, which opens up scope for the discussion on loyalty.

One of the interesting observations that comes out from this discussion is the relation between a stable democracy and the political activism of the people governed. It is usually assumed that the proper functioning of a democracy requires an active and alert population but empirical studies on voting patterns have demonstrated considerable apathy of the public. But since democracy has fared well in apathy, it suggests that the relationship is more intrigued - to the extent that apathy is present, the leadership has time to respond to demand for better governing from the more vocal group in the population. Putting it in economics terminology, if the demand for better governing is completely elastic, a slight drop in services provided will translate to a total withdrawal of the support for the government,  render any recuperation attempt by the government useless.

Another insight that is a clear blow to economic thinking is that sometimes monopoly serves the public better than when competition is present. How is that so? When the presence of competing firms creates the illusion that a better product is available, consumers will try to seek a non-existent alternative in the market instead of effectively using either Voice or Exit whereas under monopoly, consumers can focus their energy in improving existing circumstances. The main idea is that collusive behavior among competitors may result in wasteful resources and this is not far from describing competitive political system. In this context existence of competition creates an excuse for leadership to bring forth more fundamental changes that would have been desired in the absence of competitions.

So the foregoing paragraphs are more like summaries instead of a reflection and there are much more interesting notes that I have made to myself while reading the book, but I will skip the those here and instead incorporate questions that I have in the discussions follow.

First comment. The study of organizational stability comes in two dimension: Vertical hierarchy and horizontal linkage. The leader and the member are nodes in a gigantic network, each made up of cluster of agents interacting with each other. So if the quality of service deteriorates, members of a highly integrated network would find it more difficult to use Exit instead of Voice. This can be used to the advantage of the leadership as the cost of exit is now much higher to its members.

Secondly, even in the absence of any feedback mechanism, if upward mobility is fluid in the network, the prospect of improvement in one's relative social standing will dampen the frustrations of its members. In the book, the author argues that strong upward mobility strengthens the voice options because "everyone has a strong motivation to defend the quality of his life at his station". This inference assumes that the deterioration of services affects everyone uniformly and has neglected how one will try to improve his situation in the status quo before even considering using either Voice or Exit. So if the channels of upward mobility becomes rigid and deprives members of the bottom class access to a better life, Voice or Exit now become much more attractive compared to before.

Third comment on self-deception. I find the discussion on unconscious loyalty and self-deception particularly illuminating. In more abstract terms, the member's sense of self is internalized in the system. The more the members invest to acquire a stake in the system, the more the system sucks out his/her consciousness. When there are enough number of people invest greatly into the system, for example, when corruption is prevalent, the system now takes on a life of its own.

Love test

In discord with its surrounding. Kowloon City, Hong Kong

Last Saturday I hopped on the plane, knowing that I'd miss 3 upcoming midterm exams but was oblivious that a bigger test awaited in Hong Kong.

It shakes me everytime I return to Hong Kong. This time the visit was brief and unplanned for and yet, the shock was much more fundamental than my previous visits. In a span of 4 days, the fear and sadness that a family member might part was displaced by a sort of mental exhaustion. I love my family dearly but it hurts me that we are measured against each other on the depth of our love every second. And it haunts me that love, when pressurized, is distorted and manifested in the form of self-righteous acts. I never for a second doubt our hearts and our love, but why in times like this do we turn into some big brother agents: watching each other as if we are waiting for an opportunity to turn others into the Villian. We worry that we are being outdone, that our love is ingeniune, muddled by wrongs committed and favors received in the past so we go extra miles to prove to ourselves that our sacrifice is for the right cause. And we set high bars for each other, comply to it, and let our vigor sucked off along the way.

All in claims of love.

But if this is truly all for love, why don't we get a bit of satisfaction out of it and instead, be reminded (by ourselves and the surroundings) that we are not doing enough? Alas, I have learned long ago such is the nature of all tests.

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Few days back I learned that a classmate, a fellow first-year PhD student, is dealing with a much more severe familial situation. His father back in his home country is diagnosed with terminal cancer and has only few months left in life. I don't know how much internal struggles he has to go through everyday but this really speaks quite a lot of his will and determination to complete a PhD here. I have nothing but admiration and respect for him.

Ivory tower

View from Cowles Mountain, San Diego

Simply put, the first quarter of grad school was hellish. The sheer amount of course material was insane, probably exceeding a year's worth of studying in college. The week before finals I was hiding out in the lab 7:30am to 9pm, trying to cram in all that was taught (and not taught) in 10 weeks while consuming only bread and coffee. Grades ended up being so-so and professors have probably already deemed me unworthy to be an economist, which I am OK with since I am only lukewarm about being an academic to begin with. Knowing my own limitation and thus, perhaps as a deflection of pride, I grew slightly detached as the quarter flew by and I met more like-minded people at school. Even though I am not especially a social person since I find most people either hypocritical or dull, nothing makes me happier than being able to connect with other individuals on a deeper and meaningful level. It was when people were around that I found myself fully transited into a new life that seems to isolate me from everything else and yet, one which I secretly enjoyed despite the mounting pressure. In this ivory tower I was shelled off from any realistic concerns, and could focus only on learning or rather, just catching up. I felt both comfortable and insecure at the same time - comfortable in that both the direction and goal was clear at this stage, and insecure in that my decision to enroll in a PhD program is a complete waste of not only my time but my professors' as well. Truth to be told, I thought of quitting pretty much every day but well, it is still early in the game to call quit and I will be cautiously hopeful now. Even though I am pretty sure that I will become really miserable by the end of the first year, I have resolute to have a first year with no regrets in San Diego.

the Japan I knew of

About 1 week before my scheduled departure when the real sense of leaving this country finally pressed on me, to my surprise, an unfamiliar sadness and heaviness overtook me. I have moved a lot the past 11 years, couple times within the same city, but more so across cities and states, and this time across borders and sea, so naturally I thought I would be immune from the melancholy of leaving one place for another. But this time it is different.

This time I was not 100% convinced that my decision to leave Tokyo would lead me to a better future. I had doubts, and I thought it would have worked out nicely too if I stayed - Forget about graduate school, I would just get a job in Tokyo, work like a mature adult and settle down. It didn't happen of course. A week later, i was en route to San Diego to lengthen my academic journey. However, the mere thought of settling was definitely something - part of it might be age but I genuinely believed that Japan could be my home in the future.

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Yes, its glorious days of world economic supremacy might have been behind its back but Japan has never lost its 根気. 根気 is what defines a nation and it is something that never breaks in adversaries. In fact, it becomes stronger and unite people together when difficulty presents itself. You do not shy away from challenges; you stand up to them even when things do not go on your way. Only in great difficulties does it reveal the nation's true characteristics. I know not a nation or race with so much perseverance and character like Japan. What is significant is that this Japanese 根気 stems from the love for their people and country, not from hatred against other nations or race. There is just a vibe of composure in the atmosphere, unlike Hong Kong or even some parts of the US, where air of haste and anxiousness afloat. 

The Japanese are unique in a lot of ways. In my opinion the "variety" of Japanese people definitely spans wider than the Hong Kong people or Chinese that I have encountered with: a female classmate who has worked in the development field in Afghanistan, college student who majors in Indonesian because he wants to understand better the largest Muslim country, family who runs a farm for mentally disabled people, Japanese language teacher who lived and taught in Vietnam, PhD economics student who traveled miles to some poor countries to run natural experiments... they have all demonstrated to me the possibility of lives that is unseen of and unimaginable in Hong Kong with their daring souls. On a separate but related thought, many said that Japanese are inward-looking but the statement was flat wrong to me. Yes, my "sample selection" is probably biased (excuse my economic terminology) since the people I interact with are mostly in an academic setting but the people mentioned above have shown to me that the Japanese world view is way more comprehensive than the world view of Hong Kong, which despite how it prides itself as an international city, is embarrassingly ignorant about some very important parts of the world such as the middle east and south east America.

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I have not used the word "touched",  "感動" a lot in the past but in the past two years, Japan has filled my life with so much of these "itchy touchy" moments that have soften my tacky way of seeing the world. I was unsure how I could best leverage this past two years to the better use of my future but then I realize, Japan is already embodied in me - whatever I do, its influence shall remain. This is a country I shall be forever in debt to.

"Educated"

hunger strike protest against national education

To watch the way the event unfold around "national education" is disheartening. How did Hong Kong come down to this.. these secondary schools students, not even 18 years of age, went on hunger strike as their last resort to put pressure on the government before schools reopen on 9/2. How can the government officials turn away from them and see only Beijing in their eyes? When will Hong Kong come together and stand behind these students?

A propaganda in disguise, the "national education" has a clear political mission. Some said, "every country has its own national education, what is wrong with having one in Hong Kong?" First and foremost, "national education" shall not be mistaken as "civic education". The aim of "civic education" is to educate students to become responsible citizens who appreciate, and work to protect the rights of others. And quite the contrary, "national education" at its core glorifies nationalism, justifies the wrong that the party has committed with logic that seems right on the surface or unrelated facts that has no empirical correlations (the country is too vast, and the people are too diverse for effective democratic governance...etc). Proponents of "national education" also defend "national education"  by claiming that "national education" introduces students to "alternative thinking" - one that deviates from the universal values of the West and fits into the "Chinese reality". And that again, is bull. The "Chinese reality" is the twisted reality where people are denied the right to speak the bare truth, the inconvenient truth against the party. Our children need to be taught how to differentiate the white from the black, not how to make excuse for the black. Proponents would probably say that people like me are brainwashed by the western ideals. I disagree. The values that I believe in, namely democracy, individual freedom and rule of law are all driven by wants and needs of human kind and that is, to love and respect others. These are universal values and I don't see any room for compromise.

I have had many chances to interact with students from the mainland in the past two years and I have always been extremely cautious in the beginning. They were all top students from the mainland, spoke good English and Japanese and were all extremely nice and eager to make friends. But I always found it shocking when our views on Chinese government's handling in different events differ by great length. From disaster responses to apparent man-made mistakes, most of them did not display any anger nor agitation against the government and they were ready to defend with "facts" (China being a developing country... etc). The only time when they seem to be slightly perturbed, and quick in correcting the rest of the class (though in very good manner) was related to territorial issues in China. The story goes like this, a group in our class made a powerpoint presentation with the map of China at the backgroun and on the map, Taiwan was not included. Immediately after the presentation in the Q&A session, a Peking University student pointed that out bluntly and said in an almost accusing fashion to the presenting group, "If you just want to find a symbol of China you could have used the Panda or something - you should not use the incorrect map of China" ... (the topic of the presentation was actually about Chinese foreign aid policy and so the map has nothing to do with the topic of the presentation) And at that point, I thought to myself, "so that is what it is like to be "educated"."

I don't think that patriotism can be taught just like how you cannot teach someone how to love. So please, just leave our children alone.

The Beautiful Tohoku

San Diego is known for its yearlong mild sunny climate and my new school is only 10 minutes away from the Pacific Ocean. But the close proximity to the sea has constantly reminded me of the affected areas in Tohoku, which must also had been beautiful before the disaster struck last year… well no, it IS still a beautiful place.
 

Images of Tohoku have branded in my mind since the trip early this month. In a span of 3 days, we met with city mayors, officials, doctors, enterprise leaders, NPO leaders, university students and victims alike and have learned from them the sheer force of the tsunami, the difficulties that they face in resuming their original lives and most importantly, the plans that they have for their future. We also saw with our own eyes the mounting debris that are waiting to be removed, the still largely unkempt affected areas in 福島 and towns including 南三陸 and 陸前高田 where most of the buildings were reduced to their foundations. There was just too much information to swallow in mere 3 days. Before the trip, I thought I have seen and heard everything about this disaster from the media and how wrong I was! And while progress has been made, it is just plain ignorant to believe that Tohoku is already on track to recovery.

Mr. Suzuki

Enterprise leader Mr. Takeda

This trip has renewed my faith in humanity. If there is anything we can celebrate out of this disaster, it must be the glory of humanity and the hope towards a better future embedded in it. The people that we met in this trip are all devoted to restore vitality to the once closely knitted community. One of the most memorable experiences of this trip to me was the sharing session by Mr Suzuki, the community leader of the temporary housing in 南三陸市, who is also a victim himself and is now working to organize various activities for the residents to gather in the hope of building a new community. He recollected the event on 3/11 and the subsequent few days to us in a plain, soft voice and a cool tone that sounds almost like detachment. He told us how he found and carried more than 10 corpses from a nearby hospital where most of the deceased died because they could not walk. Under that soft voice, I can hear and feel an intense sorrow… it was as if a part of him was forever hollowed out by the tsunami. Despite the trauma, he remains in the town and is working to bring the community together again. And this is just one of the many encounters in this trip that touched me deeply. The meeting with the enterprise leaders in 気仙沼 moved me in a different way. They detailed to us the difficulties confronted their operation but they always carried a faint smile when they spoke. It was almost as if they were going through all these mess with ease and ungrounded optimism. I asked myself where could this optimism possibly come from and recalled one of the last things that they said in the meeting：根性, which loosely translated to willpower I suppose. This really just highlights the resilience and perseverance of the Japanese people and nation.

I felt extremely powerless and out-of-place the whole time during the trip. It was in this context and frame of mind that I see how insignificant I am and what I am trying to do with my life. In Tokyo, we touted ourselves with pride as the students of University of Tokyo but the encounters in this trip have reminded me that it is not the title that counts; it is the people and what you are trying to do for them that matter. The group also had a small sharing session on the bus when we were on the way back to the hotel and I still remember vividly what Noah reminded us as students of public policy: our goal shall not be to devise the grandest and most efficient policy vehicle possible. Instead we shall always have in mind the people affected by the policy because in the end, it is the people and certainly not our ego that we are trying to serve.

The rainbow will last

Few weeks back, Obama announced his formal approval for gay marriage and it got me thinking how far we have come in moving to recognize the rights of every individuals in this country. From race to gender and now, we are starting to nullify the differences in sexual orientation. Truth to be told I never thought deep into this issue as marriage itself does not appeal to me as necessity - isn't "civil union" just fine? I mused. Then it occurred to me that many in the past might as well have thought voting is not a necessity and passed on female voting. Despite how I see myself as a liberal, my view on these so-called sensitive issues, was to a very large extent shaped by the mainstream media. And now, thanks to Obama, i have come to see the need to approve, and embrace gay marriage in our society if we were to call our country the land of freedom.
 
A pretty timely coincidence was that Anthony Wong from the alternative band Tat Ming Pair in Hong Kong publicly came out as gay around the same time. As if he was some rare species, the reaction of Hong Kong media and society was just outright disgusting. His sexuality immediately became his totality, and his musical talent and contribution to the entertainment industry was wiped at once. And looking around in Japan, it still amazes me that how this country, despite its emphasis on "fitting in", has had a unique take on LGBT. Just to name some examples, many probably know about the "boy love" comic book series and moreover, one could frequently see transsexuals and men dressed in women apparel appear on regular variety shows. I think they are unimaginable in the Hong Kong entertainment scene. Outside of entertainment though, the subject is still largely muted in social discourse and therefore, I would not say Japan is a more tolerant society than that of Hong Kong but in the very least, its "subculture" has opened up another channel for the less-represented groups to become full human.

Community

graduation ceremony of a local elementary school

This entry came in delay but hey, better late than nothing.  On the second day of my arrival to Kagoshima, i followed my host father in a small truck to sell tofu products around the village. A list of usual customers was logged in advance and we drove by their houses one by one, which scattered around the village, and knocked at their door to see if they would like to purchase anything. At one of the houses lives alone an old lady of age probably over 65. When we slide-opened the door, I saw that 140 yen was already sitting at the door and she was clearly expecting us. I passed over a block of 木綿 tofu as my host father exchanged a few greetings and introduced me. She nodded  at me sweetly, said some encouraging words and we receded. My host father later said many of the aged residents in the village barely leave the house since many of them have difficulty walking and driving is out of question as well. With limited interaction with outside, the brief exchange seemed to be something they look for in a day. We continued circling around the village, and my host father would say something about the weather, and occasionally asked about the sons/daughters of the households if he knew about them. Their children are usually working in some cities far away from the village that I was at. They only come back during the holidays in 年末 and お盆.

After dinner on the following day, while I was chatting with the host parents over tea, an announcement of a male voice broke out from nowhere. Alerted, I looked around the house, and my host mother pointed to a corner in the kitchen space. There was a small broadcasting device. The announcer was saying that a villager has passed away tonight. "1 person less...the town has exactly 8900 people now" I thought to myself. My host father later told me that the announcement system was a good way to keep everyone informed of the up-and-about of the village since it is a small community.  Sad news or good news, everyone shares the sadness and the joy that comes around.

Everything in this town was of novelty to me but it all felt so right. I never knew my neighbors growing up nor had I lived in a small town my entire life. To me, "community" has always been a distanced concept that I could not relate to. When people said they wanted to give back and contribute to the community that they grew up with, I always dumbfounded. But the two-week in Kagoshima has substantiated the meaning of a community for me - though it might be late, I think I have retrieved a part of me that has till then never been there.

Model and Defect

washing dishes together

Some background info: the village I went to as a exchange student located at the southest end of Kagoshima, with a population of 8900 people. At 43%, it also has the highest ratio of aged 65+ residents among the different districts in Kagoshima prefecture. My host family has 4 members. The father is the head of a NPO farming facility which hires mainly people with mental disability. The mother also works in the facility, but not on a full-time basis. She also cooks very well. There are two kids, aged 8 and 4 respectively. The little girl is very cute but wants to have her way all the time, likes to follow me everywhere and pinches me to get my full attention. The boy likes to read manga, athletic, and is very kind to his lil sis. They are the model Japanese family in my opinion.

On the second day of my arrival,  I got a chance to tour around the farming facility. The site includes various plant fields (tea leaves, carrot, onions and such), a ham processing facility, a bakery, a small cow raising area as well as workers' dormitory and recreational area. My tour guide is a man with down's syndrome and he commutes to the facility everyday doing some light manual work. He talks clearly and has a better command of Japanese than I do. He told me that he had a big heart surgery when he was small; I later found out that this was common among down's syndrome patients. I had a very pleasant time walking around and talking with him. My host family later said he is the "spokesperson" of the farm and loves to talk to different people even though at times he makes up story in order to make the conversation flow. But I thought that was very nice of him. On my third and forth day, I worked in the plantation area alongside with workers of light degree of mental disability. Most of them have completely normal appearance. They were very diligent and did not seem to mind repeating manual and robotic work. I spent most time with an old lady above 70 and she was the cutest old lady I ever met, always cracking jokes and even took care of me when we were in the cafeteria. Both she and her daughter live in the dorms of the facility. We picked out tomatoes, cleaned and weighted them and put them into small plastic bags, all by hand. We also packed green onions together and there went the day. A lot of times I did not understand what the workers were saying to me but they always gave me a big smile and I felt like I was most welcomed.

These 2 days got me into deep thinking that the line of between role model and the rest is not that clear-cut after all. And in fact on site yesterday, I was mistaken to be one of the workers there by a staff and he later apologized to me. I thought that was funny and the movie "Shutter Island" popped up on my mind but really, we are not all that different from them. Here I am, in a perfect family who works for the bettering of people with innate disability and that to me, is true harmony.

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