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greybetaFirst, you must read the first half.
Whenever I clean up my room at my house back in Ft. Smith, I always find something that I’ve forgotten about. Sometimes, it’s a toy that I haven’t touched for ten years, and other times it’s a random signature book from my junior high days. Whatever it is, it’s a part of me that I hadn’t been aware of.
Similarly, my meditation on how I became a confident pessimist has unearthed something inside of me that I’ve been searching for all of my days.
And so, I will now begin the second half of the story of how I became a confident pessimist. If you’re haven’t read it, here’s the first half.
The turning point was Dai Hoi, a conference I went to for Vietnamese youth in Washington, D.C. this summer. On Wednesday night, we had our first unofficial activity, a little get together to introduce ourselves. I went along with my parents to some random house of a former South Vietnamese general.
I met three international Vietnamese youths: a German guy, an Australian girl, and a French girl. It would be Phuoc, the lucky French girl, who would force me to bring out things in me that I don’t like to show.
When I made small talk with her that evening, she kept eyeing someone behind me.
Do you know that your mom keeps staring at you?
She does? Well she’s probably worried about me. I’m a mama’s boy you know.
Is that so? Are you really that reliant on your parents?
You know, the Bible says to honor your father and mother.
Yes, but aren’t you old enough to make your own decisions now?
I didn’t really have a good response to that. Instead, I just started answering her questions with fewer and fewer words, signaling that I didn’t want to talk anymore.
Something bothered me when I went to sleep that night.
The next day, we had some down time between conference activities and dinner. The German guy, the lucky French girl, and I sat down near the hotel pool and talked. Their views on America fascinated me, but their own experiences being the children of former South Vietnamese officers fascinated me even more. I do remember Phuoc saying something that resonated strongly in me.
Our fathers discuss a lot of business at Dai Hoi. They always talk about bringing freedom to Vietnam. But, in truth, this conference is no more than an army reunion. People come to see their old friends and have fun, forgetting about politics.
This wouldn’t have been so haunting if my Dad hadn’t told me something on the drive to our nation’s capital. Son, I could care less about what they’re going to say. I consider this more of an army reunion, where I’ll get to meet people who I haven’t seen since the fall of Saigon.
This is why I kept slipping up and calling her Chi Phuoc (Anime explanation lady says that chi is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older sister, even though the lucky French girl is no blood relation to Daniel). Out of respect, I called her older sister even though she was born a month after I was. By age, I should have called her little sister but there was no way that would have been true in my heart at that point.
I’ve heard that Americans tend to have an extended childhood, sometimes extending well beyond their college years. And here I was facing it in person, in the form of this lucky French girl who was ten times, no a hundred times, more mature than I was.
Friday, I witnessed the gambit of a monk. His failure started some long forgotten wheels in my mind, a feeling that I didn’t particularly like.
Saturday, I did something against my faith. The bespectacled Phuoc had some comforting words for me.
I still respect you. You still make your own choices from now on.
On the program for Sunday, my name was up for sharing my experiences doing history research on the Vietnam War. That morning, I felt very nervous. Would people actually listen to what I had to say?
You bet.
Especially when it comes from someone who’s been very quiet up to this point. And I’ve heard that quiet people have the most to say.
We then had to elect a new CEO/President. Merely twenty years old, I didn’t feel like that I had the experience to handle a dynamic group like this. When one of the unstated job descriptions is being able to speak Vietnamese well, an American like me has no chance (the monolingual joke for reference). I certainly had no intention of putting my butt on the line and volunteering to run.
Until the lucky French girl nudged me on my shoulder.
C’mon, Anh Duy, stand up. I know you can do it.
(Anime explanation lady says that anh is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older brother, even though Daniel is no blood relation to the lucky French girl).
(Anime explanation lady also says that Duy is the Vietnamese name that Daniel goes by when he’s around other Vietnamese people).
The next thing I knew, I was explaining why I wanted to run for the CEO/President position and where I saw this Vietnamese youth group going.
After I lost, I was angry when I found out that Phuoc did not vote for me. She was the freaking blank vote.
You can’t do that, you can’t tell a person to run for a position and then not vote for them.
So this dragon had awoken, and he wished to burninate a lucky French girl!
But she confided into me that plenty of people had said that I would make a great leader down the road, when I had matured and learned Vietnamese.
Eyes are the window to the soul, and I could only see truth through her glasses. I also saw it the eyes of everyone else, that they saw something different about me.
I was blind, but now I see.
My eyes can now cut through ten feet of steel. When you find yourself, you can peer into the souls of others. In a book called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the main character tries to find his Personal Legend. When you are seeking your Personal Legend, the whole universe conspires to help you. You can also see whether or not others are seeking their Personal Legend.
I hate using clichés, but my mind is crystal clear.
At the banquet that Sunday night, the lucky French girl asked me to dance, though not for the reasons for which I would hope. Surprisingly, this brimstone Baptist found it enjoyable.
Later, I noticed a cute girl wearing a white dress sitting around during one of the dance numbers. Why not ask her to dance? When she refused, a random Maryland guy told me to get on my knees and beg. Which I immediately did, and so the Connecticut girl couldn’t refuse my offer.
A UConn undergrad, the budding pharmacist thanked me for the dance. As it turns out, we had something in common since she liked anime (her current favorite is Naruto). I would have never known that if I hadn’t gotten down on my knees.
After Dai Hoi, I joined a yahoo group for the Thanh Thieu Nien Da Hieu (the Vietamese youth group). To help out my matchmaker, I posted the qualities of my dream girl.
Then lightning struck me.
Wasn’t the lucky French girl a perfect fit? Too bad she was an ocean away. But, I found out when her birthday was and called her mobile phone (which she foolishly gave out on the yahoo group).
Phuoc, you’ve brought me a lot of luck.
I had to email her the explanation of what I said to her that day. With every letter I typed, I began to doubt. What am I doing falling like a ton of bricks for a girl across an ocean?
Then, I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? She’ll say no?
The fateful AIM conversation hinged around one question (an aside, my Z3 obsessed friend is against having serious conversations online due to the lack of tone).
Is this feeling I have mutual?
No.
I was crushed.
For a second.
Then I realized something. I had made a good friend, who was like a sister to me.
And that fact has emboldened me.
Though it pains me to type this, I could be wrong about my thoughts on arranged marriage.
There’s a difference between arrogant people and confident people. Arrogant people are never wrong. Confident people know that they could be wrong.
So yeah, look out ladies, I’m out on the prowl now. I no longer will hide behind the excuse that my parents are my matchmakers. I’m not sure how they’ll react when I break the news, but they’re just going to have to accept my choices.
I can see where I want to take my life, but that’ll be a post for another day. I do want to say that the confidence in my pessimism has transferred to other areas of my life.
Undoubtedly, I’ve become more confident in my faith. I know that I will work to be the person that God intends me to be.
And that, my friends, concludes the story of how I became a confident pessimist.
Whenever I clean up my room at my house back in Ft. Smith, I always find something that I’ve forgotten about. Sometimes, it’s a toy that I haven’t touched for ten years, and other times it’s a random signature book from my junior high days. Whatever it is, it’s a part of me that I hadn’t been aware of.
Similarly, my meditation on how I became a confident pessimist has unearthed something inside of me that I’ve been searching for all of my days.
And so, I will now begin the second half of the story of how I became a confident pessimist. If you’re haven’t read it, here’s the first half.
The turning point was Dai Hoi, a conference I went to for Vietnamese youth in Washington, D.C. this summer. On Wednesday night, we had our first unofficial activity, a little get together to introduce ourselves. I went along with my parents to some random house of a former South Vietnamese general.
I met three international Vietnamese youths: a German guy, an Australian girl, and a French girl. It would be Phuoc, the lucky French girl, who would force me to bring out things in me that I don’t like to show.
When I made small talk with her that evening, she kept eyeing someone behind me.
Do you know that your mom keeps staring at you?
She does? Well she’s probably worried about me. I’m a mama’s boy you know.
Is that so? Are you really that reliant on your parents?
You know, the Bible says to honor your father and mother.
Yes, but aren’t you old enough to make your own decisions now?
I didn’t really have a good response to that. Instead, I just started answering her questions with fewer and fewer words, signaling that I didn’t want to talk anymore.
Something bothered me when I went to sleep that night.
The next day, we had some down time between conference activities and dinner. The German guy, the lucky French girl, and I sat down near the hotel pool and talked. Their views on America fascinated me, but their own experiences being the children of former South Vietnamese officers fascinated me even more. I do remember Phuoc saying something that resonated strongly in me.
Our fathers discuss a lot of business at Dai Hoi. They always talk about bringing freedom to Vietnam. But, in truth, this conference is no more than an army reunion. People come to see their old friends and have fun, forgetting about politics.
This wouldn’t have been so haunting if my Dad hadn’t told me something on the drive to our nation’s capital. Son, I could care less about what they’re going to say. I consider this more of an army reunion, where I’ll get to meet people who I haven’t seen since the fall of Saigon.
This is why I kept slipping up and calling her Chi Phuoc (Anime explanation lady says that chi is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older sister, even though the lucky French girl is no blood relation to Daniel). Out of respect, I called her older sister even though she was born a month after I was. By age, I should have called her little sister but there was no way that would have been true in my heart at that point.
I’ve heard that Americans tend to have an extended childhood, sometimes extending well beyond their college years. And here I was facing it in person, in the form of this lucky French girl who was ten times, no a hundred times, more mature than I was.
Friday, I witnessed the gambit of a monk. His failure started some long forgotten wheels in my mind, a feeling that I didn’t particularly like.
Saturday, I did something against my faith. The bespectacled Phuoc had some comforting words for me.
I still respect you. You still make your own choices from now on.
On the program for Sunday, my name was up for sharing my experiences doing history research on the Vietnam War. That morning, I felt very nervous. Would people actually listen to what I had to say?
You bet.
Especially when it comes from someone who’s been very quiet up to this point. And I’ve heard that quiet people have the most to say.
We then had to elect a new CEO/President. Merely twenty years old, I didn’t feel like that I had the experience to handle a dynamic group like this. When one of the unstated job descriptions is being able to speak Vietnamese well, an American like me has no chance (the monolingual joke for reference). I certainly had no intention of putting my butt on the line and volunteering to run.
Until the lucky French girl nudged me on my shoulder.
C’mon, Anh Duy, stand up. I know you can do it.
(Anime explanation lady says that anh is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older brother, even though Daniel is no blood relation to the lucky French girl).
(Anime explanation lady also says that Duy is the Vietnamese name that Daniel goes by when he’s around other Vietnamese people).
The next thing I knew, I was explaining why I wanted to run for the CEO/President position and where I saw this Vietnamese youth group going.
After I lost, I was angry when I found out that Phuoc did not vote for me. She was the freaking blank vote.
You can’t do that, you can’t tell a person to run for a position and then not vote for them.
So this dragon had awoken, and he wished to burninate a lucky French girl!
But she confided into me that plenty of people had said that I would make a great leader down the road, when I had matured and learned Vietnamese.
Eyes are the window to the soul, and I could only see truth through her glasses. I also saw it the eyes of everyone else, that they saw something different about me.
I was blind, but now I see.
My eyes can now cut through ten feet of steel. When you find yourself, you can peer into the souls of others. In a book called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the main character tries to find his Personal Legend. When you are seeking your Personal Legend, the whole universe conspires to help you. You can also see whether or not others are seeking their Personal Legend.
I hate using clichés, but my mind is crystal clear.
At the banquet that Sunday night, the lucky French girl asked me to dance, though not for the reasons for which I would hope. Surprisingly, this brimstone Baptist found it enjoyable.
Later, I noticed a cute girl wearing a white dress sitting around during one of the dance numbers. Why not ask her to dance? When she refused, a random Maryland guy told me to get on my knees and beg. Which I immediately did, and so the Connecticut girl couldn’t refuse my offer.
A UConn undergrad, the budding pharmacist thanked me for the dance. As it turns out, we had something in common since she liked anime (her current favorite is Naruto). I would have never known that if I hadn’t gotten down on my knees.
After Dai Hoi, I joined a yahoo group for the Thanh Thieu Nien Da Hieu (the Vietamese youth group). To help out my matchmaker, I posted the qualities of my dream girl.
Then lightning struck me.
Wasn’t the lucky French girl a perfect fit? Too bad she was an ocean away. But, I found out when her birthday was and called her mobile phone (which she foolishly gave out on the yahoo group).
Phuoc, you’ve brought me a lot of luck.
I had to email her the explanation of what I said to her that day. With every letter I typed, I began to doubt. What am I doing falling like a ton of bricks for a girl across an ocean?
Then, I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? She’ll say no?
The fateful AIM conversation hinged around one question (an aside, my Z3 obsessed friend is against having serious conversations online due to the lack of tone).
Is this feeling I have mutual?
No.
I was crushed.
For a second.
Then I realized something. I had made a good friend, who was like a sister to me.
And that fact has emboldened me.
Though it pains me to type this, I could be wrong about my thoughts on arranged marriage.
There’s a difference between arrogant people and confident people. Arrogant people are never wrong. Confident people know that they could be wrong.
So yeah, look out ladies, I’m out on the prowl now. I no longer will hide behind the excuse that my parents are my matchmakers. I’m not sure how they’ll react when I break the news, but they’re just going to have to accept my choices.
I can see where I want to take my life, but that’ll be a post for another day. I do want to say that the confidence in my pessimism has transferred to other areas of my life.
Undoubtedly, I’ve become more confident in my faith. I know that I will work to be the person that God intends me to be.
And that, my friends, concludes the story of how I became a confident pessimist.
