"What Are You?" & A Book Review!

What do you think when someone asks you, "What are you?  Where are you from?  But no really, what ARE you?"

Surprisingly this is a question I get fairly regularly.

I know what you're thinking, "In this day and age?  No way."

Please, trust me on this one.  I get looks of disbelief because I look Asian - I have the black straight hair, the short frame (some say "vertically challenged") and the accent of a typical North American.

Here's how my conversations usually go:

"Hi, where are you from?"
"Canada."
"Oh Canada...really?  So you were ...born there - you weren't brought over?"
"Yes I was born there."
"Okay - but where are you really from?  Because you look Asian!  I mean what are you?"

I am at this point smiling as politely as I can and deep inside just feel frustrated.
Here's what I really want to ask people who ask me such questions:

• I came from a uterus - what about you?
• I do know I look Asian thanks...I mean had you not told me - I would have had no idea. (I say this in my mind very sarcastically with a dose of humour.)

I try to not be offended by those questions but I just wished more people would believe me. 

When I dig my heels in and continue to say, "I swear - I'm Canadian and not just because my husband is one too" - I still get doubtful looks.

Here's some "I don't match my stereotype background"-friendly questions/things to try instead:

• "Oh cool.  What part of __________ are you from?"
• "Where are your parents from?"
• "What is your culture?"
• "Want to go grab a pizza?"  (Just kidding - no wait.  Who turns down pizza?!)

Funny story for you:

We were in the countryside visiting my in-law's and one of my cousin in-laws was visiting and we're standing about the kitchen chit chatting and here's how that conversation went...

"Hey - you speak English really well."

"What?" - me stunned.

"Youuuuuu *finger point*....speak *open and close motion with the hand*....English....well *thumbs up*"

I stood there for awhile with our family members and just thought what the heck was going on in this kid's mind.  He was about 19 and it wasn't the first time we've met.

"Dude - I'm born here." was the politest and softest hit to his ego I think he could handle.

His face slowly bloomed red, he spat out apologies and we all had a good chuckle after that.

So anyway, back to why I'm writing this post eh?

Lately I've been mistaken for a man.  I don't look like one, I don't sound like one, however - my name, Dominique - being the feminine form of "Dominic"- gets mistaken by one for the other regularly.  That's fine - I think it's hilarious when I show up for something second-hand and the person thinks it'd odd I know what Dominic is going to buy.

I guess now I'm trying to appreciate the Asian part and am trying to embrace that cultural part of me but I don't know how.

I look Asian, I don't have to shave my legs and I don't have very hairy arms (okay - zip all) and I can chow down on Dim Sum with chop sticks with the best of 'em.

But inside I've always felt like a trapped little blonde girl.  Which probably explains why I have all those silly little blonde moments...yup.

I've been to China and Hong Kong twice in my life and seriously got excited when I saw a white person.  Never mind another ethnicity than Asian.

Have you ever tried crossing the street in China?  NOBODY stops for you unless you don't look Asian. Unfortunately I blend in quite well and had a wicked hard time making my way across the road.
Non-Asian = Tourist attraction - don't be offended if you get asked to have your photo taken.

Anyway, back on track (sorry!) I've recently connected with my biological maternal side of the family and it's hard.
They've been quite welcoming but we have a small problem some of us.

COMMUNICATION.

Many of them speak Mandarin and I can't even introduce myself in Mandarin.  Wee bit of an issue.

I am in touch with some that speak English but it is tricky because of time zones!

So I was going to sign up for a Chinese language course but that's a bust because I'm enrolled into Finnish language courses and psychology (in Finnish nonetheless) and I'd feel bad if the hubster had to take the kids on 3 nights in a row with minimal assistance...and we all know bedtime is protest time.

So what I did do was buy from Book Depository - Chineasy. (Affiliate link).

I have it on my computer desk on top of the pile of mess that's also here...I'm learning a lot - although I have yet to practice anything!
I love  the illustrations that go with each character and symbols and it does make things possible to remember!
So if you're looking at studying basic Chinese and have a hard time remembering things - Chineasy may be the way to go! :)
Here's a quick video - in fact, a TED one - featuring the author Shaolan.

While this is a very short book review (especially since I haven't finished reading it - that'll take some time as with most language skills bookss!) - I'm quite pleased so far and can strongly recommend it.

I had been thinking about this book for over a year!! I can't wait until the Chineasy app comes out too.

I first saw it on Facebook - someone shared it or perhaps it was the Book Depository Facebook Page (as a random popular book) and those images displayed in a quick video I watched had stuck in my brain for a long time.

So clearly it was a sign right?

Okay before I get sidetracked - yet again - I'm hoping that this book and some hands on practice with a Chinese friend (I need to make some and I genuinely CANNOT wait to meet them face to face and have them doubt their eye sight...) will give me the skills I need to communicate the basics with extended biological family members.

Maybe and hopefully, before I'm 40 I can accept that in fact - 50% of my DNA is Chinese and 50% is Malaysian-Chinese (seriously I don't know the difference - working on that) and share and encourage this side of my culture to my own children.

Have a good weekend!
BIMU 

A Side of Autism: New Eatery

I'm really not kidding when I say that "fine dining" with the V-Man is Chinese food take-out at home (as delivery options are mighty slim in our city), McDonald's or Hesburger.
Or if we're super lucky - a pizza buffet.
Point being - fast and immediate eating options preferred.

Last week I took V-Man on a "Mommy and me" lunch date and tried Subway.  I more or less got a foot-long of whatever I normally get (Subway Melt - hold the onions and tomatoes) and hoped for the best.
By "hope for the best", I hope for the following things:

• He sits still.
• He eats the sub.
• He doesn't throw it on the floor.
• He doesn't hate it.
• He doesn't run away repeatedly with sub in hand and making a mess all over the place.
• He doesn't smack his head out of impatience for having to wait in line for food.
• *Update (forgot to write this earlier): TEXTURE.  The toasted hot bun, the melted runny cheese, the cold meat and veggies, the crisp, the chewy - all of it - could be extremely overwhelming for someone on the spectrum or with a sensitive mouth!
• He doesn't scream.

V-Man handled the short line up (3 people ahead of us - short for me, long for him) and we sat down to eat and I think the hardest thing for him was to be able to hold the sub.  Remember - he's only 5 - so his hands aren't fully grown yet :D.

He sniffed it.  A Subway Melt with honey mustard and pepper on a honey and oat bread.

I'm glad to say this was a huge success and we've been back since and he ate every bite (of his half and then some of mine and the chips and then another rice cake and a granola bar while waiting for the bus after a quick twenty minutes grocery shopping trip).

Although the second time, he got a mouthful of jalapeno pepper and wasn't too pleased.  I held my breath and he waited for me to empty out those peppers and then he continued to chow down.
WHEW!

It's the little things and while there are some people who insist on staring at V-Man as he hops about and flaps his hands about making odd sounds - we still manage to have a nice time together.

So despite the scandal that Subway is facing regarding Subway Jared - I'm happy to have found a new place to eat that doesn't involve piles of grease and me feeling oh so guilty afterward. 

BIMU

PS Me bitching and complaining about the stares and whispers we get in public when spreading good ol' fashioned autism awareness is for another time. :)
But if you do see someone who is acting a bit odd and out of sorts (and they don't reek of booze), I recommend asking their caregiver what's going on or even better - if you can help.

Getting My Dog Home & I Couldn't Make It Up Things

This horrible day of events happened last week and finally I have some time to post it!
Remember how I said that we got Blue cremated?
Well, I finally got the text message saying he was ready for pick up.
You know what nobody has told me (and possibly never told you-so here it is):

It's really frigging difficult to go back to the vet's to pick up your pet in an urn. It was borderline traumatizing in fact!!
I approached the vet office doors and started to have a hard time breathing. I had A-Man with me and he was just amazed at the large automatic doors and the golden retriever that walked in for his checkup. He understood we were getting Blue to bring him home but he seriously thought Blue was still in a car somewhere. (We don't have one.)
When the nurse handed me the box- I took a deep breath. I saw his name on the sticker label and sobbed. She petted me on the shoulder and said her condolences and swiftly left so I could show A-Man that somehow- there is the remains of a 38 kilos dog in a box in a box.
He asked if it was Loki. Good grief.

Anyway I'm glad the urn was packed well inside a box because then I had to get a sausage order that weighed quite a bit.
On the way home, as I'm still in a bit of shock- A-Man decided to just be a huge not-gonna-listen-to-you jerk (aka a toddler with a major attitude).
He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't walk. He was about to break his sister's lemur by swinging the stuffed toy by its tail. A stitch had popped already and if you're just reading my blog now- sewing ain't my thang.
I finally managed to get him home with a boxed urn under one arm, and 7kg of sausages under my other arm...he was kicking and screaming and I dragged /nudged him all the way home.

Then he continued to scream in the hall that could wake the dead and I snapped.
As soon as we closed the door I yelled. Which is my preferred method of releasing anger and typical. I admit this.
What isn't- is me swinging my fist with the aim of punching the closet door.
And because karma was making her rounds or because I had 0 reflexes to stop- A-Man jumped up and my fist connected with his head.
I cried, he cried, I was shaking as I was sure I fractured something in my knuckles- serves me right...yep I know!
And you would think that punching your kid in the head by accident would be the end of bad and crappy things to happen-right?
Wrong.

I proceeded to cover my knuckles with tiger balm (Chinese polysporin is what I call it) and A-Man wanted some for his head. And his hand too-just like me.
Less than five minutes later he's screaming again because he rubbed his eyes. And got tiger balm in his eyes.
While I'm trying to unpack the urn, I'm trying to rinse his eyes out and M-Girl just shoved the box off the stool I had it on in the bathroom.
Yup. Thankfully it was packed really well.

An hour later, we heard V-Man coughing and it turned out he was in my backpack and had taken a gel capsule pill of ibuprofen.
I kid you not. Thankfully it was only 400mg and my friend said because of his size and he only had one- he'll be okay.
So we just gave him a lot of water with the hopes he'll be okay.

You are hoping I'm done right? Yeah me too.
Well all was fine when we went to bed until 4:30 this morning when I stretched and lightly nudged what I thought was Loki.
I rolled over and heard a loud thump and the insta-scream of M-Girl.
You've got to be freaking kidding me.

I've since seen a doctor and had a couple X-rays taken and my bones are fine. My muscles in between and knuckles are sprained but nothing I can really do about that.

So if you're having a crappy day like I was- just remember: It can always be worse.
BIMU