"Godsend" by DC Talk

Part of why I haven't written in a while is for the prudence of letting old ghosts rest. But there's a new woman in my life, and she deserves a less encumbered me. So, demons must be exorcised.

--

"Godsend" by DC Talk

My upbringing was a bit on the insular, sheltered side. I never listened to the secular or modern music until middle school. The firstband I ever discovered was DC Talk. It was because they were Christians / made Christian music that my parents even had their CD, "Free at Last," in the house. I think it was a thing that Christian Book Distributors did, send out free CDs to members once in a while. So, DC Talk was the first band I ever followed, and I followed into my high school years.

What I should mention is the place DC Talk has in my spiritual development. Their music, at least to the awkward kid that I was, was cool, hip, and modern. It was a relief to find cool, hip people who espoused the same worldview as I did, and propagated the same beliefs I'd been taught. DC Talk's music solidified my values, especially with regard to love. That's where this song comes onto the scene.

"Godsend" was, up until that point in my life, a summation of my ideals about love. "The One," divine destiny, the whole nine yards. It was in that phase where everybody dedicated songs to each other (ie "This song is our jam!"). I'd wanted to sing this with Beatrice at the next youth group coffeehouse. That was before our relationship collapsed, of course.

There are some of you out there who know the history between me and her. She was not my "high school sweetheart." She was the girl I could never let go through all of high school, because my ooey, gooey, sappy little heart believed that true love, even if unrequited for a while, could conquer all. That's why Beatrice was able to fuck up that heart of mine, multiple times. She was the one for whom that love of mine, as clumsy but wholehearted as it was, was never enough. In retrospect, she never did understand love, much less the world, in the same way I did, so this song was wasted on her; she ruined it for me, and that's why it's on here. Because of the association this song had with my ideals about love at the time, she ruined love. I didn't even consider dating for the next five years or so, it was that bad.

For this one song from our time together, I have about a dozen for the pain she caused, so I guess that makes it special, in its own way.

Traversing Social Distance

I’ve travelled between East and West perpetually with a rigidity of gait born of insecurity. At times accepted and at others rejected in both worlds, the cultures of my Chinese forefathers and my Mid-Western existence, I’ve been conditioned to tread hesitantly, feet shod in uncertainty. Memory flickers like a candle that illumines incidences in the dark archives of my history. As I examine the pages, I am made to relive events from my childhood.

One memory stands out from the few I have of kindergarten. I recall that a play-time was among the first activities, probably to get us used to each other. I spoke to the other kids at least partially in Mandarin; there was a slight gap in communication for a bit, and the world seemed to convulse. I think all of us, only recently removed from the womb, grappled to express and receive meaning however we could, so we recovered admirably—my peers picked up on what I meant and I adopted full use of English. I didn’t realize it then, but this event would be the first of the contractions that would deliver me from one world into the other.

The next contraction would occur a year later, in the first grade. I drew a self-portrait and chose peach for my hue. I considered peach “the” color of skin, and thought nothing of it until a classmate asked me, “Why are you using peach?” I must have given him an expression that showed I did not understand why he’d asked that question, so he persisted, saying, “Your skin color isn’t peach.” I was flabbergasted by this revelation—my eyes had been opened to race as a construct based on physical characteristics. Disappointment followed shock when I failed to find in the 24-color Crayola crayon set a color that better matched my hue than the color one of my peers had disallowed for me, the color I no longer was, the color he still was.

I was born, then, and like a babe, I came kicking and screaming. Over the next few years, each day of school was like travelling to hell and back—especially the third grade, when I had Mrs. D., who was a veritable witch. I knew, unarticulated, that I was ‘other’ to her: she’d often mix up me and my south Indian friend, Kushal. She’d call me “Kushal” and him “Ezra.” How one could fail to distinguish between East and South Asians, I’ll never know. That she did let me know that we were consigned to the out-group, lumped into a faceless group of the pigmented, and I felt that, deep down. I can’t ever remember a time she was happy with us or anything we did. The other children picked up on this general disapproval, and we were made pariahs. My kicks were feeble steps, and my screams miserable whimpers that died in my throat as I lay in my disheveled bed on lonely nights.

I was convinced then that I could never arrive. Every member of a minority group born in this country is born dangerously close to stillbirth, near death. To the extent his or her birth into wider society is handled with care, he or she will accept or “buy into” the ethos of this nation. In that era of my life, alienation characterized my social existence, and I marinated for years in a sorrowful rage that turned into a twisted ambivalence between a hunger to prove my worth and a thirst to avenge my wounds.

The words of my father rang ever in my ear, that I must work twice as hard to compensate for my ethnicity, yet the fruit of my labor weighed never sufficiently—by society’s standards or his. I shuffled about in limbo, unable to see any way to advance or to retreat. A part of me died then, and what was left was a shell of the boy I had been.

Ezra's Life in Song, Inaugural Post: Vanessa Carlton - "A Thousand Miles"

Youtube: the song (and music video).

I remember exactly where I was when I first heard this song, a full five years after its original release. I was sitting on a couch in Wendy's living room while largely not helping with post-party cleanup, on February 12, 2006.

That day, I'd raced home after church to get ready to attend her birthday party. It was a wet day, and I was driving a tad too fast down Hobson. I skidded into the guard rail at the intersection of Hobson and Washington, which smashed my right front lights and damaged the bumper. Luckily, the damage was not severe, but I knew I was going to be in deep shit with my dad. I made it the rest of the way home without incident.

Upon reaching home, I told my dad about hitting the guard rail, and of course, he forbade me to leave the house. But after a while, he magically changed his mind, with but a single condition-- he said I had to drive the marred car to the party. That was a whole lot better than nothing, so I took it. I wouldn't know until later why he'd let me go.

I arrived somewhat late, and the party had already begun. After a while, Tim Tsu came up to me with and asked an odd question, in an odd tone: "Hey, Ezra... wanna go with me to pick out a movie?" Another friend would be joining us. My logical side prompted me to immediately ask, "Does it take three people to pick out a movie?" "Oh, uhh... yeah, we need a variety of opinions. Let's go pick out a movie!"

We went to the nearest rental, browsed about for close to half an hour, and failed to reach a consensus on what movie we should watch. Tim received a phone call, then came over to inform us that "somebody else had actually brought a movie." That, or "they don't want to watch a movie anymore." We got back to Wendy's house, and I knew something was up the moment I got inside, because it was all dark. I seem to recall a crowd of peers crammed into the stairwell like sardines, giggling like the schoolgirls they largely consisted of. In the living room, Wendy stood in the dimness, wearing a white dress, within a large heart-shaped formation of lit candles.

I just kind of stood there and looked at her. She beckoned me over, into the center. "Will you go to Turnabout with me?" "Well, of course." Upon which, everybody cheered. Somebody put on music, I think, and she asked me to dance with her there, within the heart of lit candles. I dithered, objected on the grounds that I was a poor dancer. But, of course, I couldn't very well refuse her, in front of everybody there. So we danced awkwardly, within that heart of lit candles, in the dimness of her living room. After enough footage had been obtained of us, the pitiful spectacle was finally put to an end.

The lights were turned back on, and we started to clean up. That was when the song came on; it must have been playing from one of her mixes. I felt like a boss after getting asked to Turnabout, and we were quite a sappy pair, so this song was perfect for the moment. It was at that time that I found out that Wendy had managed to call my father, tell him about her plans, and thus spring me from house arrest. What a day. This was one of several high points in our (pseudo) relationship, and I shall cherish it forever, even though we didn't work out.

Why this song fits the "Ezra's Life in Song" project: recalls a significant emotional milestone; recalls a significant person; lyrics' writer also speaks of remembering.

Interlude A1, The Ones I Let Escape

(On the back of a photo postcard depicting the Great Wall, Summer of 2006).

I'm sorry I haven't been online much lately, I have computer access sporatically. The weather here in Beijing is horrendously oppressive, but apart from that, it's an interesting change from being in Naperville. I can't believe how much my siblings have grown; my brother has better aim than me throwing a ball and my sisters think Jay Chouis ugly, haha.

Besides playing with my sisters and brother, I haven't done anything notable (unless you count seeing parts of the World Cup on TV... but I get tired just watching them run =P). This is what I did on the plane ride over:

E nigmas are fuzzy, have no answer;

Z ebras are black/white, nothing else under;

R aven-haired chap who invites much wonder;

A iya, Hope I'll get to know him better!

I miss talking with you online. Hopefully I'll get a chance to see you before you leave for college. There are quite a few KFCs here, and I'm reminded of you whenever we pass near one. You look quite dapper in blue =) Enjoy the rest of your summer, and have a super-awesome time in New York!

Take care,

J

Ancient Utterings by Persons Long Dead to Other Deceased Individuals, Part 1c

(Recorded in the same journal, on the same day; see previous entry).

After receiving this.

I'm here on this cold, golden day, and the sun is shining through a crack in the curtains on this afternoon here in her house.  We sit here in the silence, enjoying it, because within it is carried all the unspoken words of our minds and the mutual feelings and emotions of our hearts.  The very air is saturated with our quiet happiness, pregnant with contentment.  This is where I find myself, this singular, eternal moment.  The paradox of that phrase aside, the description is apt.  I feel incredibly blessed by God to be with this wonderful, wonderful girl, and cannot be thankful enough.

I am happy.

Ancient Utterings by Persons Long Dead to Other Deceased Individuals, Part 1b

2-6-2006        Monday

     I'm setting an example for you!  Journaling is cool. ^_^  I want you to fill these pages with anything and everything - thoughts, quotes, verses, memories, longings, poems, songs, stories...

     If you don't have time, just write down one or two sentences!  Write about how He's blessing you, how He's changing you.  Write about our story.  Write about praises and prayers, 记忆和回忆...

     18... gosh how exciting!!!

     There is so much that I want to say here.  So much so that nothing ends up coming out!  I guess I'm just silly like that. :)

     Actually, nothing really needs to be said either.  I'm sure we'll cover everything today.  If not, we will do it sometime later.  We'll have a lot of time too, maybe even all the time there is.  If that's the case, I'm sure I'll be able to think of ways to phrase what I want you to know.

     Hurting one another is inevitable at this point in our unique friendship.  Someday, maybe in a small way, I will unintentionally hurt you, of, if I'm in a weird mood, it could be intentional... if I forget to say it later, I'm so sorry.  Girls hurt boys, we all know.  Write about it.  Give it to Jesus.  Give me another chance.

     Thank you for everything.  I don't know how to describe what you really mean to me.  I'm not as good with words as you are.  But I can show you. :)

Life isn't easy.

             Friendships may die.

      But I believe.

                     I believe.

        因为我们有爱情.  <3<3

     Happy birthday buddy.  Best of luck in the future.  A lot of people love you.  A lot of people are praying for you.  Stay strong and stay cool!

God bless,

W

(Oh, and you'd better use this!!!)

^_^

Ancient Utterings by Persons Long Dead to Other Deceased Individuals, Part 1a

(Written onto said CD).

Hey Ezra this is your girl W, presenting you with a CD mix with much love! I hope you like it and think of me when you listen to these songs, even if it's like at some totally random place, like some store - which is unlikely because you never shop, and those songs are all sappy slow jams ^_^

听一听,笑一笑 Enjoy!
--

I can't seem to get away from my past, so I might as well get it all out.