Hey friends,
Welcome to my update! This is a series documenting the process of writing and publishing my Chinese memoir that tells the story of me being Taiwanese, and how I perceived my identity changes over time. This includes studying in the States, quitting my 9-5, becoming an online creator and digital nomad, marrying into a white family, and becoming a mother.
It’s been a long, emotional month! My parents came to visit from Taiwan, Michelle had fun in Florida with Paul’s parents, and my sis just left after spending 3 days with us. We had so many wonderful memories with our families. And I got my second Capoeira belt! Now it’s time to get back to writing!
How much I wrote
Not much, tbh. I thought I would feel guilty, but I’m happy I finally took some real time off. Plus, I’ve officially written over 150k words. I don’t think word count is a good measurement anymore.
Reflections
I accidentally started promoting my book.
I was so traumatized by social media when I tried to build my previous “personal brand,” Curius Barbell, that I couldn’t even think about promoting my book on social media. I planned to postpone the promotion till after I publish the book.
However, it just so happened that a week ago, #americanlife became a trending topic on Threads among Taiwanese. “Since I have written so much content in my book, why not just post some paragraphs? It won’t take me too much time anyway.” I persuaded myself.
I published one post, and then it got crazy good feedback. Hundreds of followers were added to my brand-new thread account on the first day. I then doubled down on it and kept writing every day. Within one week, I had the same amount of followers as the IG account I worked my ass off to build for two years.
Since then, I’ve been writing daily on Threads, stuff that is way more vulnerable than anything I’ve written in Chinese. I think writing my book helped me heal many wounds that I was so ashamed of and enabled me to show up more authentically than ever.
Snippet of the Week
This week’s snippet is a reflection of my parent’s visit and my Capoeira community. I finally told my parents about my memoir; surprisingly, they were super excited for me. I felt lost after they left, and my Capoeira annual celebration ended. This made me think: What does love really mean?
當這本書寫到即將移居美國這部分時，也是爸爸媽將來訪美國的時候．我對於兩老這次的美國行感到感到既期待又忐忑不安．我期待他們終於能看到開始會與人互動的女兒逗趣迷人得模樣，但我至此尚未告訴他們這本自己已經埋首書寫多月的回憶錄．我們從未敞開心胸的談過我自第一次留學後的叛逆和這些年的改變，你知道的，作為亞洲人，我們不善於談感情的．他們若是知道了我將這幾年的家庭變遷都寫在書裡，會做何反應？那些我們從來沒有正面談過得衝突，會不會因為這樣地公開書寫，反而讓些年好不容易變好的家庭關係功虧一潰，從此鏡像破鏡無法重圓．我嘗試不去想像，也許根本不會有勇氣向他們提起回憶錄的事．也許等到我在社群帳號上發布即將出書的消息，再來面對家庭風暴也可以，至少這一次還是能讓淘氣的女兒和他每次視訊時都讓他笑得闔不籠嘴的阿公阿嬤好好建立情誼，我這樣安慰著自己．
在旅程的尾端，我知道我必須告訴他們自己在回憶錄這件事了．我們來到一間眺望山谷的啤酒場．在爸媽和站在桌上的女兒嘻笑的時候，我雖然緊張卻又有某種莫名的信任感地緩緩說出：
「那個，跟你們說．我現在在寫一本書唷．」
「真的唷！」爸媽驚呼，是那種開心的驚呼，而不是「你這小子要給我寫什麼離經叛道的東西」那種驚呼．我心裡鬆了一口氣，又有勇氣再把自己更敞開了一點．
「是一本回憶錄，裡面在講我怎麼從第一次出國唸書開始叛逆到現在的故事．」語畢，我終於第一次把我是個叛逆的女兒這件事公開來講，就算書沒寫完，我的心裡好像也得到了某種療癒．
爸媽熱情的恭喜我，並告訴我若出書了，他們一定第一個買看．我不敢相信害怕了這麼久的揭露，竟然得到如此溫暖的回應．
在他們奧斯丁行的最後三天，也是我們卡波耶拉團的年度盛會．我們在奧斯丁知名觀賞夕陽的山丘頂端，以傍晚紫紅色天空下刻出的奧斯丁市中心高樓當作剪影的背景，隨著來自巴西傳奇大師的歌聲在風中圍成一圈跳著戰舞．我看著這樣魔幻似的景象，不敢相信自己竟然屬於這樣如此特別的一個社群．我從看到同學時畏手畏腳、下課時只想趕快夾緊尾巴逃跑，到年度盛典時在走廊上大家一起淘氣的奔跑擊掌、一起牽著手隨著大師打擊的鼓聲左傾右倒地跳著波浪舞高聲合唱．「當所有人不斷地唱著同一句歌詞的時，大家像是在吟唱某一種咒語、一同被吸入了一個沒有時間的旋渦．這樣的共鳴創造了一個萬物合一的感受，這也就是為什麼卡波耶拉的音樂也帶有療癒的能量．」我的卡波老師在訪談裡如此說著．而在那幾天裡，我一次又一次地感受到這樣合而為一、難以言喻的歸屬感．
在盛典的結尾，也是爸媽即將搭機離台的時刻．原本以為我趕不及送爸媽去機場，但就在和爸媽擁抱道別、他們轉身離開的那刻，我神奇地聽到廣播器乎叫我的名字，到場上和指定的老師進行對舞的晉級考試．我們全家人全部衝回會場，我還沒來得及回過神時，和老師的隊伍就已經結束．我拿著熱騰騰的證書，坐上車子和爸媽直奔機場，和女兒在機場他們擁抱道別．
「愛你唷．」我抱著爸媽說，這個對於台灣人來說超級難以出口的詞彙，我終於能親自對他們了．
「當然愛你啊，我們怎麼可能不愛你呢．」媽媽拍著我的背說．
兩個星期峰迴路轉的父母來訪，和這三天作為我在奧斯丁生活至高點的卡波耶拉盛典，就這樣結束了．
在這樣能量滿檔活動的隔天，原以為我可以度過一個寧靜的週日，沒想到我卻陷入了彷彿谷底的低潮，整個人像是被抽空一樣，什麼事也做不了，卻有一股難以抒發的情緒卡在胸膛．
我想起在鴻瓊老師家巷口的義大利麵店外，問他到底如果人生所有關係可以如此稍縱即逝，那活著的意義到底是什麼？
我想到在上班族最後那段時間，天天和好友在松山運動中心團練吃宵夜的日子．我因為轉職選擇離開，卻要孤單地經過兩年後，才在墨西哥再度找到我的訓練社群．我想到要離開墨西哥的那段日子，我畫的石頭是否還在那那個蓋著茅草、有著冰涼藍綠色水泥地和海景的訓練屋頂上？在夕陽中舞動著身體的大家．離開了墨西個的老師和學生們，我又過了三年，才在奧斯丁找到我的卡波耶拉社群．
同時間，那些爸媽坐在客廳逗著女兒玩耍的時刻，也都還鮮明的在我眼前播放．爸媽來訪的那段時間裡，我每天看著女兒每天有這麼多愛他的家人環繞著她，他笑得似乎也比平常更開懷．相較之下，平時只有我們和女兒在地球遙遠這端空蕩蕩的公寓裡，大多數時間他都在和自己玩耍．是不是我們為了滿足了作為成人想要探索世界的私域，剝奪了女兒在大家庭長大的機會？沒有像其他和家人們住在同一個城市甚至國家的孩子一樣、隨時隨地都能這麼多滿液的愛，這對女兒來說真的公平嗎？為了我們的遊牧夢，沒有選擇地只好緊緊抓住彼此，這樣獨立漂流的核心家庭真的是我們想要的生活方式嗎？
為什麼人生要一直離開？為什麼我不能像其他人一樣，安安定定的待在同一個城市就好？這樣我永遠不避擔心失去那些讓我感到真正活著的朋友，我的女兒可以在阿公阿嬤的陪伴下長大、可以和他的表姐表弟玩耍，她的世界不會永遠只是爸爸或媽媽．
在心裡深處，我知道如果當初為了不要失去那些在上班族時光讓我仍感到活著的朋友而不去追求健身教練的夢想，我最終也會感到失落．而現在的我也不可能為了想要緊緊抓住卡波耶拉的社群，永遠的留在奧斯丁．如果硬是要忽略忽略那個崇尚自由、不斷想奔往異國領土那部分的自己，某部分的自己也會在這裏慢慢地死去．如果自己的生命無法繁盛發展，我也無法成為自己認為最好版本的媽媽．我的身體裡流著遊牧民族的血液，無論如何，都必須要繼續前行．而也許就是因為知道自己終有一天會離開，和奧斯丁卡波耶拉朋友們的友情，才會顯得如此珍貴而壯烈．
而保羅也提醒我，雖然女兒不會在熟悉的環境裡和留著一樣血液的家族中長大，但他會以自己的方式獲得完全不同的生命經驗．所有從小跨國長大的朋友都告訴我們，他們有多感謝自己有機會在不同文化的國家裡成長．而現在在德州獨自生活的核心家庭生活不是永遠，未來當我們旅居到歐洲或亞洲時，我們仍有機會和父母一起創造更多獨特的回憶．
這次卡波耶拉盛典開場時，來自巴西的卡貝羅大師說，今天我們在此齊聚一堂，並不是我們想要學習某種招數、或變得更健康而已．我們的生命之所以來到此，是因為我們被某種大於生命的東西所召喚，某種我們終極一生也無法完全理解的深奧秘密．我們每段卡波耶拉的對舞都不會真的結束，就像我們的生命會不斷地演化，每個追隨卡波耶拉的人在訓練的旅程上也在不段演化．只有在死亡的那一刻，我們才會畫上真正的句點，才能看清這一生到底發生了什麼事．
於是，我也想起了鴻瓊老師問我，百年孤寂裡想要傳達的宇宙真理．是什麼？
「是愛啊．」他說．
我突然理解了，我之所以願意繼續待在奧斯丁過只有我們三人核心家庭的日子、這段我大部分時間都獨自埋首在咖啡廳寫作的日子，是因為我相信某種我無法解釋的可能性在未來等著我，而要到達那個地方，我「必須」經過現在這個生命階段．而回觀過去，我從來沒有真的失去什麼．相反的，我是在自己生命演化的過程中，不斷地找到正在下一個獨特生命階段，等著我的社群．我們之所以能夠成為現在的模樣，正是因那些我們曾經一起呼吸的時刻．我從未真的「離開」過那些在人生不同階段那些對我至關重要的朋友，而他們也從未真的消失在我的生命之中．我從未真的忘記他們，也從未真的被他們所遺忘．那些共同享有的記憶仍然活在我們的細胞裡，滋養著我們的生命 讓我們能繼續前行、繼續探索，什麼叫以愛為核心繁盛發展的人生．
我好像又比大學的自己，又多懂了一些什麼是「愛」了．
Translation (Courtesy of ChatGTP!)
When this book discusses the part about my move to the U.S., it coincides with the time my parents are visiting America. I feel both excited and nervous about their trip. I'm looking forward to them finally seeing my daughter, who now interacts charmingly with others, but I have yet to tell them about this memoir I have been writing for months.
We've never openly discussed the rebellious changes I went through after my first study abroad experience. As Asians, we are not good at talking about emotions. How would they react if they knew I had written about the family changes over the years in my book? Those conflicts we never directly addressed—could exposing them in such a public way destroy the slowly improving family ties, shattering them like a broken mirror never to be whole again?
I try not to think about it, maybe lacking the courage to even bring up the memoir. Perhaps it's better to face the family storm after announcing the book's release on my social media, at least for now, allowing my playful daughter and her grandparents to bond as they always do, making them laugh. I comfort myself with these thoughts.
At the end of the journey, I know I must tell them about the memoir. We were at a brewery overlooking a valley, and while my parents laughed with my daughter standing on the table, I, though nervous, slowly spoke with an inexplicable sense of trust:
"Um, I wanted to tell you. I'm writing a book."
"Really?" My parents exclaimed with joy, not the kind of shock like 'what kind of outrageous stuff are you writing'. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt encouraged to open up a little more.
"It's a memoir, about how I've been rebellious since my first trip abroad till now." With those words, I publicly acknowledged for the first time that I was a rebellious daughter, and even though the book wasn't finished, I felt a kind of healing in my heart.
My parents enthusiastically congratulated me and promised to be the first to buy the book when it's published. I couldn't believe the disclosure I had feared for so long received such a warm response.
In their last three days in Austin, which also coincided with our Capoeira group's annual festival, we danced in a circle on a hilltop overlooking the Austin skyline at sunset, accompanied by songs from a legendary Brazilian master. Watching this magical scene, I couldn't believe I belonged to such a special community. From the timid interactions with classmates and rushing out of class to the boisterous running and high-fiving in the corridors during the festival, singing along with the master's drumbeats, when everyone kept repeating the same lyrics, it felt like we were chanting some kind of spell, sucked into a timeless vortex. This resonance created a sense of unity with everything, which is why Capoeira's music also carries healing energy, as my Capoeira teacher explained in an interview. During those days, I felt this indescribable sense of belonging over and over again.
As the festival ended and my parents were about to leave, I thought I wouldn't make it to the airport to send them off. But as we hugged goodbye and they turned to leave, I miraculously heard my name called over the loudspeaker for a test with a designated teacher. My family rushed back to the venue, and before I could regain my composure, my test with the teacher was over. I grabbed the certificate, raced to the car, and headed straight to the airport.
"I love you," I said, hugging my parents—a phrase incredibly hard for Taiwanese to express.
"Of course we love you, too. How could we not?" my mother said, patting my back.
The two whirlwind weeks of my parents' visit and the three-day high point of my life in Austin with the Capoeira festival came to an end. The next day, I expected a quiet Sunday but instead felt like I had hit rock bottom, drained of energy and overwhelmed by unexpressable emotions.
I thought of night when I sat in the Italian restaurant near my college mentor’s hourse, asking him what the meaning of life was if all relationships were so fleeting.
I remembered the late nights eating with friends at the Songshan Sports Center during my last days as an office worker. After choosing to leave for a career change, it took me two years to find my training community again in Mexico. I wondered if the rock I painted was still on the thatched-roof hut with the cool blue-green concrete floor and the ocean view.. After leaving my teachers and students in Mexico, it took another three years to find my Capoeira community in Austin.
Meanwhile, the moments of my parents playing with my daughter in the living room were still vividly in front of my eyes. During their visit, I watched my daughter surrounded by so much love from her family, laughing more openly than usual. Compared to most times when it's just us and our daughter in our empty apartment on the far side of the earth, playing alone, wasn't it unfair to her to grow up without a large family around like other kids who live in the same city or country with constant access to abundant love? Did we, in fulfilling our adult desire to explore the world, deprive our daughter of growing up in a large family? Clinging tightly to each other in our nomadic dream, was this isolated family unit really the life we wanted?
Why must life involve leaving? Why couldn't I just stay settled in one city like everyone else, never having to worry about losing the friends that make me feel alive, with my daughter growing up with her grandparents and playing with her cousins, her world not limited to just mom or dad?
Deep inside, I knew if I hadn't pursued my dream of being a fitness trainer to avoid losing those office friends who made me feel alive, I would ultimately feel lost. And now, I couldn't stay in Austin just to hold on to the Capoeira community. If I ignored the part of me that craved freedom and yearned to venture into foreign lands, part of me would slowly die here. If I couldn't thrive, I couldn't be the best version of a mother I wanted to be. My blood was that of a nomad; I had to keep moving forward. And maybe knowing I would eventually leave made my friendships with the Austin Capoeira community even more precious and intense.
Paul also reminded me that although our daughter wouldn't grow up in a familiar environment with family of the same blood, she would gain a completely different set of life experiences. All the friends who grew up internationally told us how grateful they were for the opportunity to grow up in different cultures. Now, living alone as a core family in Texas wasn't forever; in the future, when we lived in other parts of the world, we would still have the chance to create more unique memories with our parents.
At the opening of the Capoeira festival, a master from Brazil said that we were not just here to learn some moves or to become healthier. Our lives had come to this point because we were called by something greater than life itself, a profound mystery we could never fully understand. Each Capoeira dance was never really over, just like our lives continually evolved, and every Capoeira follower on their training journey was also constantly evolving. Only at the moment of death would we truly understand what had happened in our lives.
So, I also remembered my mentor asking me what the universal truth conveyed in "One Hundred Years of Solitude" was.
"It's about love," he said.
I suddenly understood that the reason I was willing to stay in Austin, living a life with just the three of us, spending most of my time buried in writing at cafes, was because I believed in some inexplicable possibility waiting for me in the future, a stage of life I "had" to go through to get there.
Looking back, I had never really lost anything. On the contrary, I was continually finding new communities waiting for me at the next unique stage of my life. We had become who we were because of those moments we had breathed together. I had never really "left" those friends who were crucial at different stages of my life, and they had never really disappeared from my life. I had never really forgotten them, nor had they ever really forgotten me. Those shared memories still lived in our cells, nourishing our lives, allowing us to keep moving forward, exploring what it meant to have a life flourishing with love at its core.
I felt I understood a bit more about what "love" means02 than I did in college.
Preorder my book!
Are you interested in my stories? Do you read Chinese or know someone who reads Chinese that will be interested in my book? Now, you can preorder my book for $10! This book, with a tentative title, Made in Taiwan, is estimated to be published in 2024. It will be helpful for anyone who’s exploring who they are and wanting to reinvent their life while battling imposter syndrome. Or anyone interested in living an untraditional life!
Thank you for reading!
See ya next week!
Angie0
Man... I gotta learn enough Chinese to be able to read your book by the time it comes out!
"I think writing my book helped me heal many wounds that I was so ashamed of and enabled me to show up more authentically than ever."
so beautiful! love hearing about this journey you're on :)