Wednesday, September 30, 2009
In Awe of Babies
10am in my usual coffee shop hangout. I am the worst customer a coffee shop can imagine: the kind who buys a coffee and sits there whole day, well, usually I sit a straight of four to five hours in the morning. From 7:30 to 9am it is usually the office crowd, people who come to get their morning coffee before work. There are also a few souls who hang out in the coffee shop around similar hours as I do, and most of us are either working on our computers or buried in books. One or two of them are writers, I suspect. Some of the others must be academic people from UVA. Sometimes, you would also see a few retired elderly gazing through their morning papers and nibbling their muffins with a graceful leisure that arouses your envy each time. Then, at 10 or 11am, mothers/parents and babies hit the coffee shop, usually they don’t stay long as the babies would rattle. If it is a bigger kid, the parents would stay longer to let the little ones get a hot chocolate or a scone.
As a mother of a 15-month old, I find this crowd of babies and kids most distracting, even if they just sit quietly in their strollers. When you look at a baby, you can’t help but be awed by their uniqueness. In the beginning I thought this is just my baby, only she is unique, but then I realize that every baby inspires the sense of awe in me. This sense of uniqueness is a paradox. When you think about it, babies are in fact all the same; they go through similar stages, react in similar ways, encounter similar problems, never in our lives again would we be so understandable /defined by our growth in unison with the human race. But still, you feel that they are so fearfully, totally, unique; that they are pure, innocent, untainted, unadulterated.
Think about the word “unadulterated” for a second, even though their etymologies are different (“adult” comes from “add” and “aliment” = nourishment, while “adulterate” is from the roots of “add” and “alter” = debasing), the word “adulterate” evokes the suspicion that becoming an adult unfortunately means being adulterated, means losing one’s purity and authenticity. Indeed, look at the baby and then the mother or father besides her/him, you can’t help but feel that the adult is always a diminished version of the child. Babies are so fearfully perfect that you don’t know what to do with them. Because no matter what you do, you feel like all you do is contamination. What is a baby then? Is it a self, a subject, a bundle of consciousness/ unconsciousness? Why do we cherish the sense of uniqueness and authenticity in them so much? In fact, how can we speak about uniqueness when all babies demonstrate to us are their collective traits in different developmental stages? How can one speak of authentic self when there is not yet a self to speak of? Maybe what is authentic about babies is their revelation of the human race as an animal species. And it is the moment when we embrace civilization and socialization that we mourn for our loss of authentic existence in this world, and thus create the need for the concept of individual uniqueness. In this sense, individualism is nothing but a misplaced and impossible pursuit. The self is neither unique nor authentic, but only the mark of its lack. Authenticity has to be found somewhere else.
As a mother of a 15-month old, I find this crowd of babies and kids most distracting, even if they just sit quietly in their strollers. When you look at a baby, you can’t help but be awed by their uniqueness. In the beginning I thought this is just my baby, only she is unique, but then I realize that every baby inspires the sense of awe in me. This sense of uniqueness is a paradox. When you think about it, babies are in fact all the same; they go through similar stages, react in similar ways, encounter similar problems, never in our lives again would we be so understandable /defined by our growth in unison with the human race. But still, you feel that they are so fearfully, totally, unique; that they are pure, innocent, untainted, unadulterated.
Think about the word “unadulterated” for a second, even though their etymologies are different (“adult” comes from “add” and “aliment” = nourishment, while “adulterate” is from the roots of “add” and “alter” = debasing), the word “adulterate” evokes the suspicion that becoming an adult unfortunately means being adulterated, means losing one’s purity and authenticity. Indeed, look at the baby and then the mother or father besides her/him, you can’t help but feel that the adult is always a diminished version of the child. Babies are so fearfully perfect that you don’t know what to do with them. Because no matter what you do, you feel like all you do is contamination. What is a baby then? Is it a self, a subject, a bundle of consciousness/ unconsciousness? Why do we cherish the sense of uniqueness and authenticity in them so much? In fact, how can we speak about uniqueness when all babies demonstrate to us are their collective traits in different developmental stages? How can one speak of authentic self when there is not yet a self to speak of? Maybe what is authentic about babies is their revelation of the human race as an animal species. And it is the moment when we embrace civilization and socialization that we mourn for our loss of authentic existence in this world, and thus create the need for the concept of individual uniqueness. In this sense, individualism is nothing but a misplaced and impossible pursuit. The self is neither unique nor authentic, but only the mark of its lack. Authenticity has to be found somewhere else.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
搖啊搖, 一搖就搖到外婆橋
This is one of our frequent conversations since the departure of Popo. We even made it into a song that we sang before bedtime. "搖啊搖, 一搖就搖到外婆橋; 外婆不在家家, 咱們去找舅舅. 舅舅家有一個Momo (虹仔是也), Momo 最喜歡明明, 明明和momo和舅舅舅, 站在一起就哈哈哈哈笑".
The video is taken on our way home from Corolla, 4 hours of car ride, Ming Ming slept for 2 hours and for the rest of the time, we entertained ourselves with songs (papou took the lead in gesturing, people in nearby cars looked at us like we were crazy), books, games, and long conversations like this one.(當然,還有明明Mcdull式地用腳給古典音樂伴奏.)
five days at Outer banks, Corolla, North Carolina - 陽光, 沙灘 & 海浪
Bonjour a tous,
Nous (Ting, Ming Ming, ma mere et Jacques) passons la semaine a Corolla en Caroline du Nord. En effet apres de multiples hesitations entre la Floride (pour voir un de mes copains) et le Canada (pour voir Nicolas, Sylvie et les chats bien entendu), nous avons opte pour une destination plus proche de Charlottesville (a 4h30 en voiture), car un voyage de plus de 12 heures en voiture aurait ete difficle pour Ming Ming Iere (elle a été couronnee recement). J'ai donc organise ce sejour sur la cote atlantique (en reservant un hotel le Dimanche pour un depart le Lundi ; je fais cependant croire a ma mere et Jacques que ce voyage a été prepare de longue date l’hotel etant pas mal du tout avec acces sur l’ocean, trois piscines et un petit spa). Pour Tonton, nous sommes situes a quelques miles de Kill Devill Hill sur les Outers banks, la ou les freres Wright effectuerent leur premier vol. La plage est magnifique, l’ocean agite avec quelques vagues et nous partageons nos journee entre petit dejeuner a l’hotel (inclus dans le tarif de la chambre donc comme tout bon americain, on essait de s’empifrer un max…) , marche/ footing sur la plage pour digerer, baignade dans l’ocean ou en piscine et châteaux de sable qui serviront probablement de premieres defenses quand Kadafi et Ahmadinejad decideront d’envahir les Etats unis. Nous avons aussi visite un joli phare constuit pour tenter d'enrayer les nombreux naufrages (la cote etant en effet surnomee "the graveyard of the atlantic")...bref des vacances reussies grace a une organisation sans faille ne laissant rien au hasard (meme le temps est parfait bien que la meteo prevoyait de la pluie et des nuages)
Gros bises a tous,
Antoine
Nous (Ting, Ming Ming, ma mere et Jacques) passons la semaine a Corolla en Caroline du Nord. En effet apres de multiples hesitations entre la Floride (pour voir un de mes copains) et le Canada (pour voir Nicolas, Sylvie et les chats bien entendu), nous avons opte pour une destination plus proche de Charlottesville (a 4h30 en voiture), car un voyage de plus de 12 heures en voiture aurait ete difficle pour Ming Ming Iere (elle a été couronnee recement). J'ai donc organise ce sejour sur la cote atlantique (en reservant un hotel le Dimanche pour un depart le Lundi ; je fais cependant croire a ma mere et Jacques que ce voyage a été prepare de longue date l’hotel etant pas mal du tout avec acces sur l’ocean, trois piscines et un petit spa). Pour Tonton, nous sommes situes a quelques miles de Kill Devill Hill sur les Outers banks, la ou les freres Wright effectuerent leur premier vol. La plage est magnifique, l’ocean agite avec quelques vagues et nous partageons nos journee entre petit dejeuner a l’hotel (inclus dans le tarif de la chambre donc comme tout bon americain, on essait de s’empifrer un max…) , marche/ footing sur la plage pour digerer, baignade dans l’ocean ou en piscine et châteaux de sable qui serviront probablement de premieres defenses quand Kadafi et Ahmadinejad decideront d’envahir les Etats unis. Nous avons aussi visite un joli phare constuit pour tenter d'enrayer les nombreux naufrages (la cote etant en effet surnomee "the graveyard of the atlantic")...bref des vacances reussies grace a une organisation sans faille ne laissant rien au hasard (meme le temps est parfait bien que la meteo prevoyait de la pluie et des nuages)
Gros bises a tous,
Antoine
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
"Go Go Go"
That is what Ming Ming says all the time these days (she got the phrase from her book "Hurry Hury"), eps when we go running or outside.
now she accepts to be held on both hands, so that she can run and jump...
This is also the first time that she is happy holding hands with someone else while I am present. In the last few days Ming Ming was glued to me all the time, the separation anxiety has mounted quite considerably since Popo's departure. The little thing was probably thinking if Popo could leave her all of a sudden, her mum can probably do the same. But after a few days being with Mamie and Papou, she is pretty close to them now. Ming Ming loves going out, so she is really happy that Mamie and Papou take her out so often. She is learning a lot of french words (even rude ones that her dad says often), and loves the games her grandparents play with her, as well as the small beans and spagatti Mamie cooked.
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