“The Pincer Pliers for Pulling Teeth”, Tortured the Victim to Death, the Primary Suspect Sentenced to Life

Considering the extent of torture, the horrific facts of this crime, you would think, that the DEATH penalty would be, warranted, but no!  Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The Boss of the Murdered Victim with His Three Accomplices, Physically Attacked Him Using Baseball Bats, Hammers, and a Sharp-Tipped Knife, the Murdered Victim’s Blood Was with Oil in it, the Coroners Testified, that the Severity of Abuse Was Never Before Seen

The brutal abuse murder happened two years ago at the Seventh Construction Mansion in Taichung, Liu who is in the gambling business had monetary disputes with his assistant, Hsu, Liu and his three accomplices attacked Hsu’s genitals with hammers, pulling his teeth with the pincers, Hsu was tortured to death, when the coroners autopsied Liu’s body, there was a layer of grease that floated in his blood, with the forensic experts stating this was, quite, rare, the cause of death was suspected to how the torture and abused had damaged his adipose tissues, causing embolism in his lungs.  The jury court of Taichung sentenced Liu for illegally incarceration, torturing the victim to death to life in prison, stripping him of his public office status for life.

Other than the primary suspect, Liu receiving life term, the accomplices Liu was sentenced to thirteen years six months, Shih to twelve years, the adolescent, Lin sent to juvenile court.

The indictment stated, that the primary suspect Liu (age 32) had the monetary disputes in the finances, the call girls with Hsu who works in gambling, on October 18^th two years ago, Liu had physically assaulted the victim with his accomplices with baseball bats, hammer, and a sharp-tipped knife, and poured the hard liquors onto the victim’s injuries, rubbed his injuries in chili sauce, they’d even used the pliers to pull out his teeth.

Liu, the Primary Suspect Was the Deputy Organization Manager of Friends of the Police Community

Liu worried that Hsu’s cries will get the attention of the neighbors, used the electric cords, plastic bags, tied up his hands and legs, dragged him into the kitchen to continue torturing him, the following morning, he’d found Hsu dead, and he’d not called an ambulance until early that evening, but Hsu was already dead; Liu is the assistant deputy station manager of the Sixth Substation’s Joint station, the police took him off the position he had with the police department.

the perp, Liu’s background, from YouTube…and he had NO records of violence on file…

In the trial, the coroner, Tseng testified that in autopsying the victim, he’d found a layer of lipids over his blood, that this was, quite rare, and affirmed that his death was due to the physical injuries damaging the subcortical adipose, causing the embolism of fat tissues in his lungs, and other causes.

Because of the testimonies of the defendants don’t match up, they’d pointed fingers, and claimed that they’d tried to resuscitate Hsu, the district attorneys used the cell phone records which showed Liu telling the call girls “we beaten his penis to pulp, pulled his front teeth, broken all four limbs”, “I’d served him the chili pastes on all his, injuries here,” and “I want to torture him for a little longer, for fun.”

The Victim Had Sustained a Total of Sixty-Two Wounds on Him, He Was Tortured to Death

When the group was ganging up on Hsu, they’d taped recorded the abuse, the footages showed Liu stuffing the vacuum into Hsu’s mouth, started the machine to suck out all his air, sliced his body up, then poured the whiskey over the injuries, the district attorneys believed, that the nonstop torture of Liu caused him to sustain a total of sixty-two different injuries, that he didn’t have a part of his skin that’s not been, injured, to the point that Liu was “completely dead”, did the perps called the EMT, the district attorneys called the assailants to be “completely without any humanity”.

The Taichung District Court stated, that the primary suspect, Liu had used the most number, the cruelest measures of torture, causing Hsu to suffer for a very long time to die, and had evaded his responsibility of causing Hsu to die, and until the investigative details all checked out, he’d finally admitted to some of the charges, was worst in attitude, and, the psych evaluation showed that he was sane when he’d assaulted, tortured, then murdered the victim, he didn’t get a sentence reduction.

And so, if he’d shown the antisocial tendencies, even, psychopathy, then, he might get off easy, is what’s not said here, and, this showed, how CRUEL people can be, and for what?  Because of monetary disputes, because he’d stolen money from your illegal businesses, because he’d, cheated you out of what you would’ve, originally, received?

And this is, worth these hard-time criminals, killing a man for?  All of these perps DESERVED the DEATH penalty, by the FACT that they’d tortured this victim, until he’d died, using the cruelest possible ways, but they don’t get that, because it is NOW, unconstitutional to put someone on death row in this, country.

Everyone Has Her/His Secrets that S/he Chooses to, Keep

And, as school instructors, you shouldn’t PROD, because you may cause the student to become, more withdrawn, and s/he will shut down completely, leaving you with NO way of, getting through to her/him…translated…

Someone Chooses to Remain Silent, it’s Their Right to Their Own Privacies, & Even if We See What They’re Hiding, We Don’t Need to Call Them Out on it………….

There’s that line from a soap opera, “no matter who it might be, there are something that people are trying to, keep away from others to know”.  It’d reminded me of how at the beginning of my teacher career, how I was, full of passion, and felt defeated frequently.

She’d Handed Me Her Address with the Time Written on f Piece of Paper, Unwillingly

That very first, year, I’d tasted defeat, in handling of a student’s, problems.

There was a girl in my class, from out of the school district, her weekly journal was filled with the negative emotions, she’d refused to attend any school or extracurricular functions, and refused my attempts to make the home visits.  What was worse was, the contact information she’d left on file, are not, valid.

But to complete the given assignment of making the home visits of my students, I can only, call her to me, to try to get her to, open up to me, to the point I was, half pleading with her, “the school mandates that instructors must make the visits to the students’ homes, if I don’t conduct a home interview on you, I will get, disciplined, what will I do then?”

like this…image from online

And, after a couple of times, she’d given me, an address and the time, then, left the cold words of, “don’t regret it, teacher”, out of being, forced to.

After school that day, I’d followed the address, entered into an alley with the lowered fences, with the neon signs, lights flashing that’s very, narrow, and as I’d, finally matched the address up, I’d rung the bell, an older woman, wearing thick makeup came out, looked at me up and down, smiled and told, “young lad, come and sit for a while, the ladies don’t start working until seven at, night.”

I’d immediately explained to her, “I’m so-and-so’s homeroom instructor, I’m here to make a home visit.”

She’d fallen silent awkwardly for a few, short, seconds, then, attempted to steady herself, and, led me in.  There’s this, strong scent of perfume mixed in with the smell of cigarettes in the air, with the messy decks of cards, the wine glasses at the corner of the, living room.  Sitting in that yellow glow of the light, I’d not made a, sound, but, I’d completely understood the female student’s distancing herself, and that aloofness she’d carried about her, that she comes from a world of, secrets that she didn’t want anyone to know about.

After I’d made the visit to her home, she’d felt that I’d, opened up her wounds by force, and wrote all her anger of what I’d done in her weekly journal, and, kept me far, far away from her.

Two weeks later, she’d, transferred, out, and I’d felt, regret for my own recklessness.

No Matter How the Instructor Persuaded Him, He’d Refused to Join in the Swimming Lessons

Later, my wife who teaches at another school told me, that the P.E. instructor for her students made complaint to her, that a boy kept excusing himself out of the swimming classes, that he didn’t have the swim trunks for it.

With my former experiences, I’d, advised my wife, to not push her student to tell, as the student had done well in class, is well-behaved, or maybe, he really doesn’t have a pair, that I have a spare pair to give to him to use in class.

And so, my wife, in the next P.E. class that the student had, offered him my extra pair, and had him change to get to class.  And he took the swim trunks, and ran off, to where, my wife didn’t, know.

Because the student didn’t have a phone, my wife rushed to his home to make a home visit, thankful, the student had only ran home, this made my wife feel, relieved.

The student’s mother sighed, pulled my wife to the side, and told the secret that her son had been keeping, all along.

Turned out, on Lantern Festival of his fifth grade year, he’d followed behind the crew that were performing under the dragons and lions, picking up the firecrackers that weren’t, lit, and he’d, stuffed his shirt with them.  Yet, on the way, he’d, picked up one that was, lit, that he’d failed to note, without looking, he’d, stuffed it into his, shirt, then, it’d caused all those other firecrackers to blow up inside of his shirt, causing the severe burns on his abdomen, leaving him with the scars that he’d felt, ashamed, of.

illustration from UDN.com

Ever since, he’d, refused to, take his shirt off in front of strangers.  After that, his parents chose to move him out, so he wouldn’t be in the same class as his former classmates, and nobody would know of this past of, his.

As my wife left the student’s home, other than feeling heartache for him, she was also, glad that she didn’t, scold him for skipping the swimming lessons.

For Three Whole Years, His Face Remained, Expressionless

All of these, earlier experiences in my teaching career, serve as a constant reminder of staying alert in working with our, students; a lot of times, the self-conceitedness, what we thought is gentle kindness, may be perceived by the students as pressures.  When we believe that what we’re doing is for “the students’ own good”, and ultimately, it wasn’t, not the least bit.  So, unless the kids are willing to open up, tell us what is bothering them, maybe, we should not, press them on, to get them to tell us, what is the matter with, the.

Later, I had a student for three whole years who kept that, expressionless face.  The other students would write in their weekly journals, it’s confusing to them, that as they showed the slightest concerns for him, it’d, upset him.  Actually, I’d already realized what was happening with him in the first year parent-teacher conferences, when his families failed to show up, and I’d asked him why they didn’t come, he’d started, stuttering, I’d noted, that something was up, but decided not to, prod.  And I’d, attempted on my own off-hours from work, gotten into contact with his grandfather who was living in assisted living, and learned, that his mother is serving time in prison, his father already, left, that he was raised by his grandfather alone.  And this part of his past, was what he’d felt shameful over, that he didn’t want others to know about, that’s took his, smiles, away.  And so, all I could do for this student of mine for the three years I’d taught him was, quietly, keep guard over him, until he’d finally, graduated successfully.

To the other students’ ponderings, I’d responded, “everyone is a moon, with that dark side that s/he doesn’t want anyone else to, know, about.”  I think, they would be able to understand the meaning of my words.

Not just the children, but the adults too, we all have, hurts that are, locked deep inside, that we don’t tell others about, we don’t mention, that we covered up.

And if someone chooses to maintain her/his silent, then it’s her/his own right to her/his, privacy, and even if we see it, there’s no need to, bust them wide open, just let us, learn to, respect the fact, that everyone has a side of themselves, that we all, choose, not to, let anyone else, know, about.

And so this is on the respecting of the privacy of your student, and, maybe, your students will feel safe enough eventually, to tell you what s/he is, hiding, and until then, you chose to, respect her/his, privacy, allowing your students to come to you, on their own, time, because pushing them to tell, it will, backfire, and you don’t want that.

Don’t Forget to, Breathe, Please

In this, final, stage of life, we do all that we are able to, to help our aging elderly parents feel, as comfortable as they can be, not wanting to, lose them to, death…translated…

Pushing the wheelchair, to the nursing home, waiting for the nurse to wheel my father downstairs, then, I’d, taken over, pushed him home, slowly, my mother at home, already, set up the fans and the sanitation items, waiting for me, to arrive home with my father, to clean him up completely.

The very first stroke that he had over a decade, ago, it’d caused my father to lose his ability for word recognition, with the passing of the years, he’d lost his verbal abilities, and his mobility too, plus he’d shown signs of Alzheimer’s too now, and, I’d wondered, how much of him is, really left, inside this, frail, body of, his.  Until he’d suffered a second stroke a while, ago, we’d not flown into a panic like we had that first time, the ambulance rushed him to the E.R., then he was, hospitalized.  During his time in the hospital, he’d lost what little verbal communication skills that he originally had, the neurologist told us regrettably, that he will be paralyzed for the rest of his, life, because the two strokes that he had, caused his brains to get damaged to, beyond repair.

After he was released out of the hospital, we had to, place him in a nursing home with the professional care provided to him around the clock, but he’s, of larger build, it was already quite difficult for the men in the family to carry him, let alone, my mother who’s, slim and petite in built.  We’d originally thought that placing him in a nursing home with the professional around-the-clock care we would feel more at ease, but the speed to his bodily function atrophying away, is faster than we can, ever, anticipate or, expect.  While he was treated in the hospital, he could still chew his foods slowly to eat, and in no more than fifteen days after he was admitted into the nursing home, he’d lost his ability to chew his food.  And, we had to, put him on, feeding tubes, to get him his needed nutrients to keep him, alive.

The nursing home is ten minute away from home, and when the weathers allowed, I’d, taken him home for three days out of the week from the nursing home, to get him into contact with the, outside, world.

illustration from UDN.com

My father’s eyes, still stared into, space, I’d, pushed him to the front door of our home, set his head that he no longer has control of the muscles on in place with a towel, other than this being easier to help us wash his face, it also, allowed my father to set his gaze toward the noisy marketplace up ahead.  My mother would use the dampened towel, wiped my father’s body clean.  While I’d pulled out the radio, randomly turned on to the FM stations, put the radio next to, his, ears, hoping that the stimuli of sound can, make him a little more, lucid.  I’d then, massaged my father’s legs and thighs, placing a towel over his legs, my mother and I, cleaning him up, massaging his body, while, calling out his name, talking to, him, and slowly, the eyes that lost focus, started, focusing, more.

My mother had fed him her cooked stock with the richness of nutrients, or the formulas, hoping that this could, make up for his needs of nutritional intake now that he couldn’t eat on his, own, and slowly, my father became able to, respond to our calls out to him using his, facial, expressions, and finally, we’d felt his soul, stuck inside, his, body then.  I’d whispered into his ears, “look, the weather’s nice with the blue skies, the white clouds, the sun is warm, you need to, open your eyes to see it if you can, to live, and don’t you forget, how to, breathe, too!”

And, this is, how the child tries to, keep his father, alive physically, despite how he may no longer be “around” mentally, anymore, but, it’s a misconceived belief, that so long as our loved ones are still alive, then, we have more time to spend with them, and we don’t accept, that even if they’re alive physically, their minds are, already gone, which means, they’re, no longer, “living” anymore, not as their own, selves.  Because we can’t, let those whom we love, go yet…

Malfunction

Lessons from living for the future, and now, you’re, living in the, now, not looking toward the past anymore, you’re, focused in the now here!  Translated…

One morning, I’d gone to my studio as I’d always done, to turn on the lights, and I’d, lifted my head, found a patch of, darkness, turns out, a lamp socket wasn’t, working right.  Without a warning beforehand, no sign, as I’d turned the light off just yesterday, right before I turned the lights off, it was still, working okay, then, my schedule for the entire day got, totaled, I had to put down the sketches, the writings I had been planning out in my head then, head out the door, to try and fix this, problem.

Everything breaks eventually, the faucet I’m so used to using, will one day, unexpected, start dripping, nonstop, or maybe, my laptop stops following my orders, all of these things, occurred, when you’re, running around like a headless chicken, busying about your, lives, they’d, cut in line, stirred up, messed up your, daily, routines.

sketch by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com

The most memorable time was when my son was in preschool, early in the morn, I was rushing him out the door then, suddenly, came the rumbling noises from my bathroom.  I had a bad feeling about it, ran to check, opened up the door, the pipe busted, the water came, flooding out, it hit so suddenly, caught me off guard, I’d not know what to do right then and there, and, the morning turned to a mess, and I’d, stalled the day’s schedule for my son, too.

Some say, that this is, growing, up, time always gets fragmented to pieces.  Logically, nothing is, eternal in, life, there’s the expiration dates, the limited warrantees of what we own, we were merely, proving the truths of these things, with time.

Actually, humans, break too, many friends that I have, although, they looked experienced, with a ton of working experiences, but, a change in their environment, everything turned, upside down, they’d had to, face the difficulties of switch tracks in midlife.

Same for health, we ate what we wished to regularly, and not cared of the warnings signs of our, bodies, then, life got, totaled.  Some say, this is, the “unpredictability”, because there are too many things that we can’t quite, plan, for—sounds, reasonable, but it’s not, an absolute either.  I feel, that other than the “unpredictability”, there are more of the “usuals”, that we aren’t, aware, of.  Keeping the unhealthy diets, the wrong way of thinking, the overly pursuit of fame, fortune, and a comfortable, settled, life, and the ultimate crumbling down can always be, expected, we were merely, using time, to reveal this, truth of our own, selves.

I think, “broken” is a reminder, that nothing lasts, eternally, so we would, stop, slow down, think of, how to repair things.  Due to my minor stomach problems these past few, years, it’d troubled me a long time, later, I’d followed the advice of a medical doctoral expert, changed my own, diet, three meals at set time, with the set portion sizes, focused on getting in that balanced diet, reducing the foods I eat with the additives, then I’d found, I’d been, focusing on what’s before my eyes, that I either eat by gulfing the foods down because I was hungry, or, that I’d, fulfilled my desires for the food items, and not watched for the nutritional, values.  It took me three whole months of making my own meals, eating the right things, and surely, my health, returned, such a, wondrous, thing.  Actually, if we can, make the right choices day to day, then, we can, use the “usual” to deal with the, “unexpected”.

We won’t have the blue skies available to see always, when we grow older, as these cadences came to us, we are able to, face it, and cope with it, in a, calm, manner, although today’s episode ended in a false scare, that doesn’t mean, that the next episode will happen in accordance to today’s situations, we can only, live in the moments, because the end isn’t here yet, and, tomorrow is still, in God’s, hands.

And so, it’s like that fable of Blind Vaysha, with one eye looking toward the past, and another eye, looking into the future, you can’t live in the now, and so, you need to, get RID of all that’s already past, regrets, work through them, let them all go, and stop planning for the futures, because you do NOT know if you will have, tomorrow, because that’s not a given, all you have is the current moment, to make it count!

A Perfect, Anarchy…

Why is anarchy, such an, awful, thing?  I mean, if there’s, NO government, restricting our actions, dictating what’s right and wrong for us all, sure, there would be, that period of, C-H-A-O-S (just like when a coup happens in a country as the regime changes???), but that’s, as, expected…

Anarchy would be a good form of government, because there’s this, LACK of government that will, RESTRICT people’s behaviors, and yeah, sure, people will go wild, at first, but, eventually, (and due to how god damn STUPID the humans are, this will take…a very, long, long time to “achieve”…), but, eventually, everyone will know, that I need to, keep my hands to my own self, or else, I end up, FUCKING myself over, and, I don’t want that, so everybody starts to, behave her/himself, monitoring one’s own, behaviors.

a political “dissection of this, with an alternative, view on, anarchy, found on YouTube

Anarchy sounds chaotic, but it actually, isn’t, because it can teach people to, MONITOR themselves, to keep themselves in line.  In the trial-by-error of this, there may be robberies in the banks, because there’s NO law restricting, punishing the bad behaviors, but what goes around comes around, as is the rule of the world, and eventually (don’t know how long that’ll take!), the awful things you did to someone else, will, get returned BACK to you, TENFOLD (b/c that’s the unspoken rule???), and when it does, you will, wish that you hadn’t, and that, would be what anarchy teaches the people…

And yet, I don’t think, that any current government will be willing to, try this, “little” social experiment I’d, proposed here, so the world will continue in its, CHAOS…with the PSYCHOPATHS, grabbing hold of POWERS all they, can.

This Childhood I’d, Never, Had…

This childhood I’d, never, had, I won’t, EVER, have again, because I will, NEVER live my unfulfilled childhood through you (you’re already DEAD!!!).

The childhood I’d, never, had, that was, already, gone.  The childhood I’d, never, had, that’s how it goes, isn’t it?  A child’s childhood was, stolen from her/him.  The childhood I’d, never, had, that’s how it goes, and the childhood I never had, will get, stripped away from you too, just, NOT by, me!!!

The childhood I’d, never, had.  Childhood that never, existed, lives that ended, before it ever had the chance to, begin.  At least, you’re, already, DEAD, you won’t have this SHIT to carry, like I had………

This childhood I’d, never, had, I won’t, have, because I’d, died, before I grew, up, and I couldn’t, allow the, same thing to happen to, you.  This childhood I’d, never had, you won’t, have, too, because I’m a, WAY better mother than mine!!!

The Resolve, to My Self at Thirty

Finding that home for me and my dogs, a place that will take my dogs, a rental home, until, I get to, afford my own, home, soon…translated…

I don’t know what resolves are in other people when they purchase their own, homes, or maybe, it’s how they want to start a, family, or to get ready to shoulder the responsibilities of adulthood, to carry the mortgages.  But for me, it’s purely for the sake of my two dogs.  One day as I was getting off work, I received a message from my landlord, he inquired when I can move out the soonest, he plans to sell the property.  And at that moment of time, I told myself: I’m not yet thirty, I have a long road up ahead, but I hope that this is the very last time in my dogs’ lives that they will ever have to, move.

This final time is going to be the most, blissful too.  Together, we would live in that space that belonged to just us, nobody will get upset by them, nor will anyone chase us out.

I’m still, more than grateful toward my, landlord though, as I was, finishing my training at the justice school, as I’d known where I will be working in my future, I only had no more than three weeks to find a rental place to live in, that was in mid-August, when most of the students, those who started working fresh out of universities had already, found their own, places, there’s not that many choice to choose, from then, I’d set aside all other rules of house hunting, and only kept my eye out for places that allowed me to have my dogs, and, I’d searched on a lot of the rental home web registries, and only had a few handful that are available to me.

the process of searching for a place that will accept his pets too…image from online

Before I finished my justice school training, I’d still had to go to classes, and can only use the ten minutes in-between my courses, hidden out of sight in the staircases, talked to the real estate agents, once I’d confirmed that the residences were still, available, and reconfirmed, that pets were, allowed, I’d set my schedule to ride the high-speed railways and take a cab to the location.  I’d gone back and forth a couple of times, until three days after I finished my justice school training, I’d paid up all the deposits.

Then the following noon, the real estate agent called and apologized profusely, that the landlord was willing to rent to me, but as he’d gone home, discussed it with his wife, his wife didn’t, and, they would return the rent in advance I’d paid, them.

The landlord was supposed to give me multiples of what I’d already paid, for breaching the contract, as the civil code stated.  I’d not told him that.  All that was on my mind was, what’s going to happen to my, dogs in a few, days?

Maybe, the real estate agent felt that he’d owed it to me, in the shortest time possible, he’d found me my rental property that I lived in later.  Later, although the landlord was selling his home, but a little over two years ago, when I was in my most despair time of life, he’d, accepted me, and us.

We welcomed our third winter since we moved to Taoyuan now, in our new home that looked, bright, and clean.  The temperatures were dropping outside, my dogs were, sound asleep, and snoring under the blankets on their, beds.  Don’t know if they still have any memories of us, in the dorms, and in the, rental places that we lived, in?  I’m really sorry I couldn’t make this day come soon enough for you guys, and I’m also, happy that I am able to offer them a home.

And so, this is on, finding that perfect place, to call home, when it’s just you, you only need to consider the location, if it were close to work, or at least, with the availability of transportation that can get you to work on time.  But if you have pets like this man does, then, more goes into considering, especially when you’re renting, you have to be careful, otherwise, you won’t get your deposits back, and thankful, this man was blessed enough, to find good landlords and landladies, and now, he’s found a permanent home, for his animals, and himself to live in.

My Son’s Love Violence

Imposition and love, how imposition became love, when it should get, misinterpreted like that, but, because you have the intentions of love, but you can’t express it right…an alternative perspective, of parent-child interactions, translated…

Through my son, I’d gained the brand new meaning of LV.  That day, my second-year-middle school son had me sit at the television, to watch a video he’d selected “Undertale” for me, an electronic pixelated game, and told me to not do anything else, like folding the laundry and other things.

In the process of watching, whenever I got up, my son hit the pause, and asked, “where are you going?”, I’d told him, “I need to stretch my legs, sitting this long, my legs are going, numb.”, and he needed the confirmation that I was, really, watching the video, before he pressed, play again.

I didn’t play the games, sitting in front of the screen, I was like that kid being, force fed the foods, like a student grounded, without any appetite, to the point of, passively, objecting.  But he’d, insisted that I must watch, and I’m sure, there’s a, good reason for him, wanting me to.

illustration from UDN.com

As the game got to LV, it wasn’t referring to level, but love, the game started, becoming interesting to me then.  The games that are usually based off of getting to the next level, with the slaughters, killing the enemies off, there’s the extra option of “mercy”, and not just the “slaughters”, it allows the players to negotiate with the enemies, to choose to forgive, or to, run away, to ultimately, when the protagonist is about to, battle the biggest bad guy, the LV went from level of love, and turned into “level of violence”…………

In battle, the players became the protagonists with the compassions, and my son seemed to have predicted that I’d loved RPG that’s filled with the, metaphors, didn’t want me to shrug it off because it was an electronic game—and to this point, I’d discovered, that my son was, another version of, me!

From when he was younger, I’d forced him to practice piano, to when he’s older, we’d read along in English, read the swords fighting novels together, these things seemingly boring and gruesome, actually are, quite, fun, but how can a kid understand that, how can I, make him see, beyond the, surfaces of, things?  I can only, “force” him to, pulled him through that bitter surface, to introduce him to what’s deeper in.  And now, he’d become the one, introducing me to something new, forcing me to experience things.  I know, that this heart that came from wanting to enrich my experience in life, it’s truly, amazing, you must know!

Although I was, “abused” by my son, but it’d felt, good.  What my son offered to me in his hand, was what he thought was amazing, this is, a sort of a, kindness toward his parent.  I got to see, how my way of “expressing love” passed to him, is this, a sort of a success in me socializing him?  It’d felt, kind of, weird……………

I admit, that this, it was his “forcing” this on me that’s made me, uncomfortable, that this wasn’t, right, but I can’t, come up with a way, to explain verbally, this sort of wonderful things that can only be understood through experiencing them personally, and not expressed verbally.

As I’d felt the “counterforce of love” from my son, it’d helped me gained a brand new understanding, like the metaphor of love in the game, sometimes, it is, a form of, violence!

This is, on the imposition of our love onto someone else, we love people using OUR own way, we think it’s right, because we feel love, but, we don’t consider if the receiving party feels the love, that we’re feeling, when we’re, imposing things onto them, and love should be, based off of how the person you’re showing it to, experiences it, NOT based off of how YOU feel!

When My Daughter Didn’t Make that Perfect One-Hundred in Her Quiz

The number score at the top, doesn’t matter, how many questions the kid gets wrong, doesn’t matter either, what matters is, how your attitude, affects your child, after s/he didn’t score a perfect hundred!  And in this “case”, the man realized, that what his daughter learns about her mistakes, is way more important than the perfect hundred grade he expected her to, make!  Translated…

“I want all the kids to get a hundred on their dictation tests, to help them gain more confidence in learning.”, the message popped up on my phone, the teacher’s gentle reminder, but it’d, wakened up my sense of responsibility as a parent hard.

Thinking back, since when our eldest, Q was growing up, we’d allowed her, to grow whichever way she pleases, not limited her potentials, allowed her to learn at her own, paces.  And yet, soon as she entered into the elementary years, her assignment smashed down hard on her like the thundershowers of the afternoon.

“To help her gain more confidence, I need to prepare her fully for her first test,” I’d thought to myself, “this, is the matter of the whole, family.”, three days before her test, all of us, entered into, battle mode.

Until then, Q finally told us what the quiz will, include.  And in our practice tests, I’d realized, that she couldn’t, do the dictations that fluently.  Dictations sounded easy, but you’d had to recognize the phonetic spelling, with the changes of the tones, then, using the fine muscles to, write out what you hear.  To a young child who just began elementary school, it’s like learning how to ride a bicycle, and told to get on that trip to cycle around the, island.

Q clenched onto her pencil, stroke by stroke, like a snail trying to find her way, walking, stopping, walking, stopping.  The phonetic she didn’t know, she’d written one phonetic alphabet for, and all the tones she couldn’t, differentiate, she’d written it as fourth tone.  As I taught her, I became, more and more stressed out, and started scolding at her, “What sort of an attitude is this?  If you can’t get it right now, we’ll just, work on it, until, you finally get it!”, she was shocked by how harsh my voice became, and started, crying, and, she’d sat up straight, and, reviewed over the text from top to bottom.

Two days until, it became a soliloquy I was performing, with voice gentle, word by word, sound by sound, I’d, slowly taught it to her.  The day before, grandma stepped in, taking her to school, pose the questions for her, with the incentives of snack provided, Q the competitor, is ready for anything, she was ready to, tackle it now.

On the day of the quiz, it was my child’s very first quiz, with the entire family all hands on deck, we began readying ourselves, for this, major battle, it’d started loud, but, ended, quietly.

After I got home from work, I couldn’t hold it in, inquired, “what did she make?”, my wife returned, “are grades, really that, important?  She’d already done the best she could.”  Until I got out of the shower, my wife told me, “she was amazing, she got a seventy-six, and she’d, revised all the questions she got wrong already.”

I couldn’t hold back my, disappointment, but still tried to maintain calm, “that’s a good enough, grade.”  Q responded immediately, “my classmate who sat next to me promised that she will make a one hundred, and she’d burst into tears as she didn’t score a one hundred!”, like she was trying to convey to me, just how, hard this battle was, to be, won.  I’d started thumbing through her practice book, she’d written the corrections to the page over.  Q added, “the teacher said, there are those in class who’d, written over to a third page.”, the way she looked at me, seemed to say to me, “daddy, look, I really did my, best, and made some strides.

Looking at her assignment books filled with the, corrections, I suddenly understood, something.  At that very moment, I’d decided, to give her, party—not for the grades, but to continue to help her get better.  The real confidence, comes not from the perfect score, but after each and every try, still with the courage to tell ourselves, “I can do, it”.

So, this is what this father learned, that a one hundred doesn’t mean a thing, it’s the effort your kid puts in, that should matter, and so what IF your kid couldn’t make a perfect score?  She already, made up for it, with the “punishments” of rewriting the questions she got wrong, how many times again, and, a kid this young, if you push her/him to reach that perfect one-hundred on the quizzes, chances are, you will KILL the willingness to learn in your kid, and that would not be good, at all!

Moving My Demented Father in with Me

How the realization came, way too, late, because the elderly is already, gone, how wrong she’d been, taking her father to move in with her and her family, thinking that it’s best for him, as he’d become, demented…translated…

I was the middle child, and the only daughter of my family, had been my father’s, favorite, if there’s something that my older or younger brother wanted from my father, they’d had me asked him, and, my success rate was, almost a hundred percent.  After middle school, I’d started showing understanding to how hard my father is, working for us.  As he was busying about in his clinic, I’d gone on my own to help without him asking, and so, I better understood, that my father’s hard work was how we were able to, live without any, materialistic, worries.

The year I graduated from college, my father fell ill without any, warnings, he was diagnosed with dementia, which impacted the, entire, family.  Looking at my father, who commanded everything from before, suddenly turned into this, frail, lost old man, I couldn’t accept it, what was the cause, of my father’s, growing old and becoming, demented?  Where did my dad who’s always had that, flair about him, who could, command the whole world, go?

After my father became demented, my mother shouldered the responsibilities of caring for him, did everything herself, so we won’t need to, worry from work, from school, she’d become the pillar of strengths for the, family then.  And, sixteen years later, this pillar left us so suddenly, leaving my father, looking even more lost than ever before.

illustration from UDN.com

The four of us siblings, after discussion, we all agreed, that my father would fare best if he moved away from that original environment which may remind him of the loss of my, mother, so we’d sold our old home, and he’d moved in with my older brother.  And I’d visited him at my older brother’s several times, and saw that he’d not been, treated kindly, once, in a wet and cold day, because my older brother feared that my father was going to wet himself, he’d not put any pants on my father.  Looking at his freezing legs, I’d gotten into a huge argument with my older brother, as I gained my husband’s consensus, I’d taken my father to live with us.

As he just moved in, it took him a very long time to get acquainted, my father was confused of who the heck the man that was busying about the counters?  And who was that boy who came into my doors with his backpack on?  Whose home was he, in?  Where’s mom?  Why did I need to go shop for the groceries and cook the meals?  Where’s the hired help?  I’d patiently, answered every one of his, inquiries, and then, after about six months, he’d stopped, asking me, and what replaced the questions was, the sighs then.

I’d read the reports on the caretakers of demented elderly that day, it’d shocked me, recalled how we were self-righteous, in believing it was just and right, sold the house we grew up in, and, yanked my father out of his originally familiar environment, to move in with us was for his benefits, to offer him the care he needed, and he’d, complied with the arrangements of his favorite youngest, daughter then, and I’d, not realized, that something was wrong with him, not paid enough attention to his shaking his head often, his sighs.

After I’d read that report, I’d felt the regrets attacking me, my love ended up, harming him, he’d only lost his, memories, and I’d, neglected to realize, that the emotions deep inside of his heart were still, intact, how wrong I’d, been.

My father had been gone for more than two decades now, may he rest in, peace, and, I pray that he’d forgiven me for my, ignorance and, brutality towards, him.

And so, this just showed, how sometimes we thought we were doing something to help someone, that it’d ended up, harming the person, because we NEVER asked the person, hey, do you want this or do you want that!  We just, go by what we thought was, best at the time, and that causes the regrets over the, years.