I could have sworn that I made these posts, but I evidently did not.

“They could feel the liminality of the land awaiting them. Would everything be “familiar and kind”? the newcomers wondered. Or were they merely seeing illusions, harboring hopes that would “vanish,” too?” (Takaki, p. 74)

For all the hardship that many immigrants faced during their years, it’s truly a wonder that they had the bravery to actually leave their homes and their lives in order to set out for something that could have been better for them. It may have been easier with the way that many people spoke of America, but even now I still find myself in awe of the attempts that were made. The people that left everything they knew, sometimes to send money back to their families, and sometimes to try to better their own situations. I don’t think I would have had the courage to do that unless I absolutely needed to. If it were just me, with no one else, I think I may have given in to fear and remained wherever I was. The only way I believe I could be motivated to do it is if it was an unavoidable scenario for the well-being of my family.

In Orientals, we see first hand horrific instances of racism. The extent of this racism is truly startling in some cases, and others can still be seen today. Even among my own family members I frequently see horrible instances of racism. The last time I visited my extended family, an uncle of mine couldn’t stop complaining about his job as a local Casino. He’d frequently say something to the effect of “Those damn chinks,” and complain about them coming down from New York to gamble. He’d cite numerous improbable circumstances regarding them, and the entire time it would happen I mostly just felt sick. I worry a great deal for my distant cousin, a girl of about ten-years-old and also his granddaughter, given that she’s there often. The only reason I would want to be around that portion of my family is probably for her sake.

While I loved Meena and Demetrius’s story in this movie, I felt a sadder story in the existence of Meena’s father, Jay. While Meena’s story was one of struggle with race and family, she was able to overcome it and stay with the person she loved, even if it meant going against the wishes of her family. Even if it was a temporary moment for them, Meena and Demetrius were able to have a happy ending.

Meanwhile, Jay was forced from his home country by his own brother. That isn’t to say that Jay was anywhere near being the right – he had many flaws, and he was guilty of a number of things, including being apparently more well-off in his home country than many of the other people that were there. The sad part is how bitter it eventually made him. He spends years after this trying to be allowed to return, only to be ignored or turned down at every attempt, and because of this he is unable to accept the love his daughter has for a black man, because even though Jay himself was African (and black), he was never really able to reconcile that part of himself. I feel like he was the opposite of a few of the movies that we’ve seen so far. His ending in the film was a happy one as well to some extent, but it was also disheartening because I felt there wasn’t a great deal of growth for Jay’s character. I think in the future he might prove a big obstacle in the happiness of his own daughter.

While I loved Meena and Demetrius’s story in this movie, I felt a sadder story in the existence of Meena’s father, Jay. While Meena’s story was one of struggle with race and family, she was able to overcome it and stay with the person she loved, even if it meant going against the wishes of her family. Even if it was a temporary moment for them, Meena and Demetrius were able to have a happy ending.

Meanwhile, Jay was forced from his home country by his own brother. That isn’t to say that Jay was anywhere near being the right – he had many flaws, and he was guilty of a number of things, including being apparently more well-off in his home country than many of the other people that were there. The sad part is how bitter it eventually made him. He spends years after this trying to be allowed to return, only to be ignored or turned down at every attempt, and because of this he is unable to accept the love his daughter has for a black man, because even though Jay himself was African (and black), he was never really able to reconcile that part of himself. I feel like he was the opposite of a few of the movies that we’ve seen so far. His ending in the film was a happy one as well to some extent, but it was also disheartening because I felt there wasn’t a great deal of growth for Jay’s character. I think in the future he might prove a big obstacle in the happiness of his own daughter.

This past week, I found myself (yet again, for the first time since December) without a laptop. As most of my hobbies have to do with my laptop, this unfortunately left me with not very much to do in regard to my passions.

That’s why I thought I would challenge myself to look up what I could about one of my passions with only my phone. This proved difficult, but I decided to look into the fantastic creator Monty Oum. I was first introduced to Monty Oum’s work a few years ago when a friend pointed me towards Red vs. Blue, a web series that Oum did most of the actions scenes for in later seasons. With animation skills that are frankly amazing, he’s provided expertise on a number of projects, including some of the action scenes from Afro Samurai. He was actually hired by game designers because of his work in fan videos over the years, and is considered a pretty big authority when it comes to web-based series.

In addition to this, Monty is genuinely a pretty great guy. He makes most of his character designs with lots of pockets so that cosplayers won’t be out of luck when it comes to storing their wallets or phones (a pretty big issue for cosplayers). While American, he says that he is “Cambodian, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese”, making him a pretty diserve Asian-American. While I don’t think he does very much in the way of activism, he’s certainly a wonderful example of Asian-Americans influencing popular culture. Red vs. Blue and a newer project of his, RWBY, are both insanely popular. Additionally, he does the voice acting for one of the only obviously Asian characters in RWBY, Lie Ren.

This past week, I found myself (yet again, for the first time since December) without a laptop. As most of my hobbies have to do with my laptop, this unfortunately left me with not very much to do in regard to my passions.

That’s why I thought I would challenge myself to look up what I could about one of my passions with only my phone. This proved difficult, but I decided to look into the fantastic creator Monty Oum. I was first introduced to Monty Oum’s work a few years ago when a friend pointed me towards Red vs. Blue, a web series that Oum did most of the actions scenes for in later seasons. With animation skills that are frankly amazing, he’s provided expertise on a number of projects, including some of the action scenes from Afro Samurai. He was actually hired by game designers because of his work in fan videos over the years, and is considered a pretty big authority when it comes to web-based series.

In addition to this, Monty is genuinely a pretty great guy. He makes most of his character designs with lots of pockets so that cosplayers won’t be out of luck when it comes to storing their wallets or phones (a pretty big issue for cosplayers). While American, he says that he is “Cambodian, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese”, making him a pretty diserve Asian-American. While I don’t think he does very much in the way of activism, he’s certainly a wonderful example of Asian-Americans influencing popular culture. Red vs. Blue and a newer project of his, RWBY, are both insanely popular. Additionally, he does the voice acting for one of the only obviously Asian characters in RWBY, Lie Ren.

As A Tale for the Time Being starts out, we are introduced to the young and friendly Nao, a girl who writes to us – and to Ruth, of course – from at least two years back in time, when she and her family are at their lowest possible point.

As the story progresses, we learn how to be time beings, if only for the time being, and we learn that we have always been a time being, right alongside Nao.

But Nao’s time is limited – that’s much of what the first portion of the book seems to be about in my eyes. Nao and her limited time, even if Nao herself is the one limiting it. There’s a line early on in the book that sets the framework for the entirety of her chapters.

“Emma Goldman wrote an autobiography called Living My Life that Jiko is always trying to get me to read, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet because I’m too busy living my life or trying to figure out how not to.” (Ozeki, pg 69)

Though obvious that Nao wanted to write about the great-grandmother that she adored unconditionally, I believe the start of her tale was also a way that she was trying very hard not to live her own life. Instead she immersed herself in the life of Jiko Yasutani, who believed women could be strong and were mistreated, but still had a good heart of her own and compassion regardless of who or what you are. Jiko was unimaginably kind, and I believe that Nao wanted very much to be the kind of woman that her great-grandmother was, as opposed to the Nao Yasutani that was picked on regularly in school.  We see the dark side to Nao’s life immediately; Nao wants to be something, anything other than Nao, and it doesn’t take us long to understand why that might be the case. She becomes obsessed with the idea of suicide, largely in part at first because of her father. They say that having a relative attempt or commit suicide increases the risk of you yourself attempting it. (more info here)

In this way, Ruth is much the antithesis of Nao. Nao found comfort in the countryside, while Ruth felt more stifled; where Nao was uneasy because of the people who lived in the bigger area, Ruth found life in a big city relatively easy to deal with. From the start of the book, Ruth and Nao are set up as opposites Nao spends the majority of the book trying to find her place in the world, while Ruth already has her own. While their circumstances were significantly different and understandable in all regards, this is an important thing to keep in mind.

I felt further evidence revealed itself as the book went on, and while Nao’s life grew more chaotic, Ruth’s life began to make less and less sense as time went on.  She had dreams that seemed to influence Nao’s journal and her life, her memory began to act up. She began to have an existential crisis, wondering if perhaps she wasn’t real at all, and maybe Nao had just written her into existence.  By the end of the book this becomes even more of an issue when Nao (alongside her father) seems to choose life instead of death after the death of Jiko and finding the journal that belonged to Haruki #1. While Nao chooses life, Ruth becomes even more uncertain of her place in the world. She finds less and less comfort in her conversations with Oliver, to the point that he needs to tell her that she’s being irrational about her assumptions, and if she’s going to continue thinking about something so out there that she should at least be somewhat logical about it instead of basing it on information that doesn’t really exist.

Nao finally finds her place in the world, and in a way Ruth loses hers. Stability is replaced with instability, and stability is replaced with instability.

As for the ending, I think there are a few different things that Ruth could be. One of the first – and perhaps more logical – might be that her dreams and memory issues were in fact an unfortunately early onset of Alzheimer’s. This could account for a number of things, but I think in a world such as this, for time beings such as Ruth and Nao, that this explanation is a bit too simple.

In that way, I think the next best possibility would be that Ruth was, in essence, a time being. I think that what she was didn’t really matter a great deal, because she had all she needed to be a time being, even if her time was built in a different way than someone else’s might be. She could be a creation of Nao’s, but does it matter?

As A Tale for the Time Being starts out, we are introduced to the young and friendly Nao, a girl who writes to us – and to Ruth, of course – from at least two years back in time, when she and her family are at their lowest possible point.

As the story progresses, we learn how to be time beings, if only for the time being, and we learn that we have always been a time being, right alongside Nao.

But Nao’s time is limited – that’s much of what the first portion of the book seems to be about in my eyes. Nao and her limited time, even if Nao herself is the one limiting it. There’s a line early on in the book that sets the framework for the entirety of her chapters.

“Emma Goldman wrote an autobiography called Living My Life that Jiko is always trying to get me to read, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet because I’m too busy living my life or trying to figure out how not to.” (Ozeki, pg 69)

Though obvious that Nao wanted to write about the great-grandmother that she adored unconditionally, I believe the start of her tale was also a way that she was trying very hard not to live her own life. Instead she immersed herself in the life of Jiko Yasutani, who believed women could be strong and were mistreated, but still had a good heart of her own and compassion regardless of who or what you are. Jiko was unimaginably kind, and I believe that Nao wanted very much to be the kind of woman that her great-grandmother was, as opposed to the Nao Yasutani that was picked on regularly in school.  We see the dark side to Nao’s life immediately; Nao wants to be something, anything other than Nao, and it doesn’t take us long to understand why that might be the case. She becomes obsessed with the idea of suicide, largely in part at first because of her father. They say that having a relative attempt or commit suicide increases the risk of you yourself attempting it. (more info here)

In this way, Ruth is much the antithesis of Nao. Nao found comfort in the countryside, while Ruth felt more stifled; where Nao was uneasy because of the people who lived in the bigger area, Ruth found life in a big city relatively easy to deal with. From the start of the book, Ruth and Nao are set up as opposites Nao spends the majority of the book trying to find her place in the world, while Ruth already has her own. While their circumstances were significantly different and understandable in all regards, this is an important thing to keep in mind.

I felt further evidence revealed itself as the book went on, and while Nao’s life grew more chaotic, Ruth’s life began to make less and less sense as time went on.  She had dreams that seemed to influence Nao’s journal and her life, her memory began to act up. She began to have an existential crisis, wondering if perhaps she wasn’t real at all, and maybe Nao had just written her into existence.  By the end of the book this becomes even more of an issue when Nao (alongside her father) seems to choose life instead of death after the death of Jiko and finding the journal that belonged to Haruki #1. While Nao chooses life, Ruth becomes even more uncertain of her place in the world. She finds less and less comfort in her conversations with Oliver, to the point that he needs to tell her that she’s being irrational about her assumptions, and if she’s going to continue thinking about something so out there that she should at least be somewhat logical about it instead of basing it on information that doesn’t really exist.

Nao finally finds her place in the world, and in a way Ruth loses hers. Stability is replaced with instability, and stability is replaced with instability.

As for the ending, I think there are a few different things that Ruth could be. One of the first – and perhaps more logical – might be that her dreams and memory issues were in fact an unfortunately early onset of Alzheimer’s. This could account for a number of things, but I think in a world such as this, for time beings such as Ruth and Nao, that this explanation is a bit too simple.

In that way, I think the next best possibility would be that Ruth was, in essence, a time being. I think that what she was didn’t really matter a great deal, because she had all she needed to be a time being, even if her time was built in a different way than someone else’s might be. She could be a creation of Nao’s, but does it matter?

“It made me sad when I caught myself pretending  that everybody out there in cyberspace cared about what I thought, when really nobody gives a shit.” (Ozeki, pg. 25)

Though I am not the first to say so, life and death are certainly large themes in this book. But I think of the two, the better theme thus far would be life, and how Nao chooses to use hers. It has been stated more than once that she intends to end her life, but it’s rare that someone suicidal intends to do something before they actually kill themselves. It makes Nao’s decision seem like a labor of love, a persuing of activity, a connection to life. “I just have to do one thing” is kind of like a way of saying that you don’t necessarily want to die. Likewise, it’s a way of detailing all the small aspects that you don’t normally recognize. It’s my hope that by the time we are able to finish Nao’s story, her book, the end of her life, that hopefully she won’t have any desire to actually die anymore. Maybe in a roundabout way Marcel Proust will save her time.

When I saw the quote that I have at the start of the post (you’ll have to forgive me; it looks a bit nicer having it on the top like that), I couldn’t help but think about our actual blogs for this class. I know on Monday nights, much like I am writing currently (it’s 11:25pm as I write, this post due in about 34 minutes), many of us scramble to make sure that all of our posts are in by 11:59pm. I’m guilty of this every week myself. But it made me think of all the posts that end up lost in the clutter, never actually noticed, let alone read and replied to. It gave me a new perspective on this whole blogging thing, considering I was never much of a blogger to begin with. A bit like Nao, I never saw the point.

On pg. 184 of Kato, you learn about a man who calls himself the “King of Kowloon”.  The full name of Tsang Tsou Choi, Tsang is a street artist that writes his claim to Kowloon on anything he comes across that might be reminiscent of the colonial era, over and over again, which has earned him a name as a street artist over the years. His art became such a common part of Hong Kong that it was often featured in many photos that tourists took, and in his younger days he was so determined with his art that he often took to repainting whatever had been painted over the moment that the paint was dry once more. By 1997′ he was restricted to using crutches, but this only seemed to fuel his drive; he could often be seen with bags of ink and brushes tied to the handles so that he could more easily carry what he needed for his work.

Unfortunately, he was never recognized for his title. No one could ever back up his claim, even though Tsang said he had discovered it in his genealogy and family records. Tragically Tsang died of a heart attack in 2007, his claim never verified. However, as with many artists, his work was properly recognized after he had died. In 2011 roughly 300 pieces of his collected works were put on display in a tower in Hong Kong, and it’s estimated that over the years he made at least 55,000 pieces, most of which were destroyed and repainted time and time again.

I noticed several times while watching the movie that during some of the fight scenes, the “bad guys” in the background were grinning while Bruce Lee kicked ass. This seemed kind of unusual at first, until some discussion with classmates after the film and a bit of searching on google. As it turns out racism was rampant on the set, and it even went as far as many of the actors being treated horribly by their fellow actors. Bruce Lee, however, had no patience for racism whatsoever. In several of the fight scenes he was actually beating the person up, which is why the NPC-like men off to the side looked overjoyed at the time. What the film fails to convey is the very real struggle that many of the actors faced on set, and how Bruce Lee, despite potentially endangering his career, stood up for them.

There were a number of ways in which the film deviated from the standard, which also included the suicide of Su-Lin. While having a very minor part in the film, eventually Su-Lin gets to a point where she can no longer outrun the people who are after her; she’s cornered, and she runs out of options. Of course, this doesn’t mean that she’s doomed necessarily. If she had allowed herself to be taken, there might have been a slim chance that she would survive the ordeal, though surely not without being abused and raped. Instead of allowing the men after her to even lay a hand on her, she chooses to take her own life. In this way she was defiant until the very end, which isn’t something that you get to see very often in films– especially not older ones. For her role in the film she was only paid $100.