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小金鱼
Hi friends,
It’s been a while since I last spoke to you, and I hope you have all had a restful holiday season. One of my favourite things about writing a personal newsletter - no matter how sporadically I release each issue - is that it allows me to check in with the people that I care about. I know every single subscriber to this newsletter and that’s a beautiful thing.
So, how are you? Have you had a good day today?
This year, the holiday season has been quiet at my household. I spent Christmas with my parents, just the three of us, eating soup noodles at lunch and turkey for dinner. A large part of this was down to the pandemic: my parents have health complications which put them at high-risk, so my siblings and uncle decided not to visit.
A smaller reason is that over the years, our seasonal gatherings have naturally dwindled. As my aunties and uncles have gotten older and started families, they have formed their own traditions and ways of celebrating. I used to hate hosting large Christmas gatherings with extended family at our house and being forced to make uncomfortable conversation with the kids my age. Now those days are gone, I kind of miss it.
While I am in good health and good spirits, the holidays have undoubtedly been lonelier for me this year, and maybe that will be the case for some of you too. If so, I’d like to share with you the top entertainment that I have consumed over the past year (which is an idea that I stole from Barack Obama, who shares his lists of favourite things on Instagram annually). As we head into the last few days of 2020, I hope that these lists can be a source of comfort.
If you have any recommendations on music/podcasts/movies/TV shows to check out, do let me know!
Lots of love,
小金鱼
A Quote:
“Your hand is always warm, because I want you to be warm” - Romance is a Bonus Book
A Song:
Top Stories of 2020
Know My Name, by Chanel Miller
Homegoing, by Yaa Gyasi
The Paper Menagerie, by Ken Liu
The Song of Achilles, by Madeline Miller
Top Podcasts of 2020
Asian Boss Girl
Deliciously Ella
Mythology
Business Wars
Keeping a Notebook
Top Movies & TV shows of 2020
The Office
Never Have I Ever
Gilmore Girls
Sex Education (Season 2)
You (Season 2)
Normal People
Romance is a Bonus Book
Crash Landing on You
Top Songs of 2020
Drink About, Seeb
Say You Love Me, Seeb
Back and Forth, MK, Jonas Blue, Becky Hill
Never Be Like You, Flume feat. Kai
Clean, Taylor Swift
Fireproof, Ben Pearce feat. Tayla
Electric Love, BØRNS
Lasting Lover, Sigala and James Arthur
come out and play, Billie Eilish
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There’s this community on Discord, that I found through Reddit, for heartbroken people to come together and anonymously share their problems. It’s pretty varied in content, and has a message thread for casual banter, advice, venting, and so on.
My personal favourite thread is, #unsent-texts, where people send into the ether all the things they can’t say to their loved ones. The beauty of it is, no-one responds to these messages; they just sit there, unanswered. The person who the message is intended for will likely never know.
What would you say, if no one was listening?
小金鱼
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A Quote:
“Most things aren’t meant to last forever” - Instagram
A Song:
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Last week, my friend C.Z. shared a story he wrote chronicling his grandfather’s life. It was an English language re-telling of a story his mother told, and he wanted to write it down. After reading his work, I was inspired to try my hand at telling an origin story: a story about one person’s life, painted in broad, sweeping strokes.
To keep things spicy and accessible, I have narrated this story for your listening enjoyment. If you would prefer to not listen to my dulcet tones, continue reading below.
Enjoy.
小金鱼
A Song:
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Origin
阿姨 - auntie, romanised as a yi
妈咪 - mother, romanised as ma mi
爸爸 - father, romanised as ba ba
The first time that I ran away from home, I was nine years old.
I had gotten into a fight with 妈咪, over what exactly, I don’t remember. We were yelling at each other, when I said something like, you love your business more than you love your kids. I was crying, snot dripping down my face, when she said something like, yes, I do, so if you don’t want to live here any longer, then you should leave.
I was nine years old, but I had a plan. 阿姨 lived nearby, only a fifteen minute walk away, and I loved 阿姨 very much. So I walked to 阿姨’s house, let myself in with a spare key, and waited until she got home from work. She was surprised to see me, but when I ran up to her, tears streaming down my face, she held me tight.
I hate her, I said. I hate her and I don’t ever want to see her again.
阿姨 patted my back, and we watched TV together. Then, she made me a cup of tea, and told me a story.
Your mother was never supposed to come to England, 阿姨 said.
阿姨 and 妈咪 were from the same village in China, and they had been friends for as long as 阿姨 could remember. 阿姨 told me how 妈咪 used to wake up early in the morning, before the rest of her family, to fetch wood and sell it for money. She was her parents’ favourite: not because they liked her, but because she was hardworking.
When 阿姨 left for England, 妈咪 cried. She couldn’t have known that a year later, her older sister would get married, and refuse to move abroad without her husband. She couldn’t have known that her parents would send her, instead.
For the first few years, we lived together in a tiny studio apartment, 阿姨 said, and your mother would hide under the bed whenever the landlord came to visit. The landlord was cheap, so we weren’t supposed to have flatmates, but I liked living with your mother. She made me laugh.
In England, 妈咪 worked hard to send money back to her parents. She lived in Chinatown, until she started dating 爸爸. Before 爸爸, the only person she had dated was another man who worked at the same Chinese restaurant. He was young, and fun, and 妈咪 liked him a lot. But 爸爸 was responsible, older and he could give her a home. So she married him, and they moved in to live with his parents in the small council house that the government had given them.
Several times over the next few years, they came close to having enough money to buy their own home. But every time, 爸爸 would start gambling, and the money would disappear.
妈咪 knew about 爸爸’s addiction before they got married. It was an exciting part of him that she thought she loved, until she fell pregnant, and realised that she would never have the home or life that she wanted. So, after the birth of her second child, 妈咪 started hiding money. She squirrelled away the cash that she earned from working under the table, until she had enough saved to rent a small flat.
She asked me to live with her again, 阿姨 said. To help her look after the two of you, and split the bills. We didn’t have enough money for a three-bed place in London, so your mother and I shared a room. Your older brother wouldn’t stop crying at night, so we never got enough sleep, but we were happy.
I don’t remember that.
You were too little.
Soon after, 妈咪 started working in nail salons. The Chinatown community was too small, and people everywhere would gossip about how 妈咪 had left her husband, and taken her two children. 妈咪 never let them see her cry, but when she got so tired that she forgot to wear underwear to work one day, she quit.
At the nail salon, 妈咪 got used to the acrid smell of acetone, and wearing a face mask to protect her lungs from microscopic nail particles. She learnt how to smile at customers, nodding along at regular intervals while she scrubbed their feet. She laughed nicely when old white men who came to pick up their wives called her things like angel and sweetheart.
But whenever your father came to take you and your brother for the weekend, your mother cried, 阿姨 said. And when he stopped coming, she cried, too.
Your mother didn’t cry when she worked, though, and after that she never stopped working, 阿姨 said. So when she asked me for a loan to start a business, I gave her my money. Actually, everyone gave your mother money, because we saw how hard she worked.
Your mother worked six days a week all year round and raised two children by herself. She came to England alone, at the age of fourteen, and didn’t speak any English. She learnt to drive, and started a business, and made a home.
So, you know, 阿姨 said, your mother works hard because she loves you.
I wish that she would love me a little less.
I’m sure sometimes she wishes that, too.
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