An inconvenient truth of my cny

Today is Chu4 of this Chinese New Year.


I’m sitting alone, taking my favorite Coffee & Bean chai latte with double chocolate chip muffin as today’s afternoon meal. I skip the work, escape from the office after realizing that more than half of the people in my office are not yet ready to back for work, or those appearing simply disappearing again after twelve. Like what my U.S. ang moh boss teased (in the email), many are still partying this week. He was helpless no one replying his emails during this Asian festival season; I was shameful not to get myself a lunch companion in the office.

The Lunar New Year is celebrating the year of Snakes. As usual, the festival is never celebrated as a family in my family. There are no senses of kinship reunion, no sense of happiness. The only culture we practice left only the exchange of Ang Pao. As a Chinese, I’ve never celebrate the Chinese New Year with a truly happy and blissful heart. If I did, perhaps it was before my childhood memories molded. In fact for these 20 over years, there is always a sense of faint soreness and bitterness for me to pass through these particular three to four days. This year while I’m browsing the fb, reading how everyone is having a big feast and posting family autographs with big smiles, I can’t help but feeling deep isolation from the rest. During the past there might be people I can vent my anger to or channel my expression but now, blogging would be my best way without bothering others. The logic is, if you don’t like to taste shit, then don’t throw shits onto others’ face-- the same goes for whining and grumbling. Now, with an empty plates and ¼ cup of latte left, my lunch is settle, just like I know the bad-new-year-feeling will not last. It is only temporary and once the festival spirit cease, life will back to normal. I should probably stop now. Make peace with the past and look ahead to another year with no regrets.

God bless all in the new year of Snakes.