Noi Doc w/ Nam

Here’s the dream I always get when I have an episode of sleep paralysis.

Sleep paralysis is one of the scariest experiences I’ve ever had.

And it’s always the same dream every time I’ve gone through it.

The dream always starts with me and my dad driving through a forest on a rainy night for a camping trip. We always find a dark, eerie cave that we drive into and park at as we wait for the rain to stop.

But after a couple of minutes of waiting in the cave, my body gets stuck.

I can’t move a single limb except for my neck. It always feels like I was bitten by an insect that injected me with a large dose of its paralyzing venom. Continue reading “Paralysis”

It was a beautiful evening and He was walking amongst the people.

My family, one of my cousins and I took a trip up to the mountains for Canadian Thanksgiving a few weeks ago.

We started our adventures at Heart Creek Bunker, where we went on a 3-hour hike. At the end of the trail was a cool cave that the Canadian Government used to store important documents during the Cold War.

After exploring the cave, playing practical jokes and taking pictures, we hiked back to the parking lot and debated where to go next. We decided to go to a nearby town, Canmore, for ice cream.

The first thing we did when we arrived was look for a place to buy treats. Once that task was completed, we walked around the town, checking out the shops and a street fair that was going on.

After getting a souvenir from one of the street vendors, my nephew needed to use the washroom, so I took him. But as we returned to our family, something amazing happened: I saw Jesus walking around. Continue reading “I Saw Jesus in the Mountains”

Being a teen in the early 2000s was great.

In 2000, I was a 14 year old kid. And I was a pretty stereotypical teenager.

All I wanted to do all day was play video games, listen to music, and watch music videos.

And that’s exactly what I did daily in the summer of 2000.

I’d wake up around 10 a.m., do my business in the bathroom, and head downstairs for breakfast.

Most mornings, I’d eat a bowl of Nesquik cereal (not sure if this is a Canadian thing, but this cereal is similar to Cocoa Puffs) but sometimes I’d fry myself an over-easy egg.

My parents, older sister, and uncle -who was living with us- would be at work at this time and I’d be home alone.

And like any regular teenage boy, I’d spend this time doing naughty stuff: Continue reading “Summer Days in 2000”

Pogs brought a lot of joy but also caused a lot of pain.

From the outside looking in, people see 20 to 30 kids squatting on the blacktop, yelling in excitement -and disappointment- as they play a game.

And if you don’t see this scene often, it may seem like someone started an illegal Chinese casino in the 1800s on the schoolyard.

But it’s the mid-90s. And these schoolchildren aren’t technically gambling. They’re playing Pogs. Continue reading “The Dark Side of Pogs”

Some of the things Asian parents tell their kids are wild.

Asian parents have a stereotype of expecting their children to be obedient, where they want their children to listen, obey, and believe everything they say -fact or fiction- and not argue and talk back.

And I know this doesn’t apply to all Asians. 

It is just a stereotype. 

But there is usually some truth to stereotypes, especially this one because my parents were like that.

They often told me ridiculous things so that I would behave or stop bothering them. 

And a lot of the time, I believed them. I didn’t argue the lack of logic in their “facts” because I had no logic to back it up. 

The things they told me were, indeed, factual.

So, here are the myths my young naive self believed but turned out to be quite silly:

• I wanted to lift weights when I was about 11 or 12 years old because of ’90s action movies, professional wrestling, and my older friends doing it. But my parents didn’t let me because they said weight training (or any physical activity that exerted too much energy or any activity that used too much leg muscle for that matter) would make me short. So, I didn’t lift weights until I was 16, which was the age that, according to them, my height wouldn’t be affected. I found out that this was false many years later and recently learned that lifting weights could potentially make you taller if you do it right.

 

• I have always loved the smell of coffee. Ever since I was a young pup, the aroma of coffee as it slowly drips into a mug was satisfying to me and I badly wanted to drink it. But my parents never let me because they said consuming coffee at a young age would stunt my growth (what’s up with Asians and their obsession with being tall?). So, I never drank it -in front of them- until I was an older teen. But every time I drank it as a young teen, I felt guilty because, in the back of my mind, I thought it was actually hurting the potential of my height. But who would’ve known that there is no scientific evidence that says coffee makes you short? Also, I’m taller than both of my parents, so it definitely didn’t hold my height back.

 

• In early spring and autumn, I often didn’t zip up my jacket because I was either not cold or didn’t want to look like a dork. And every time my parents caught me, they yelled at me for not staying warm. I would argue, “Well those kids over there aren’t even wearing a jacket.” My parents would look to where I pointed at and reply, “White people can handle the cold better than Asians.” The funny thing is that I was born and raised in Canada just like those white kids. All of us were born and forged in this cold, snowy habitat. But my parents knew all so Asians can’t handle the cold as well as White people.

 

• Every time I had a booboo or an ache, my parents applied the Vietnamese version of Tiger Balm (this green eucalyptus oil) to the spot as they believed it was a cure-all. Whenever I had a headache, they dabbed some on my head. Whenever I had a bruise, they rubbed some on the bruise. And when I sprained my ankle, they doused it with it before wrapping it up. To them, it was the ultimate medicine. However, I discovered many years later that it doesn’t actually cure anything. It just relieves pain. But, again, my parents are all-knowing, so that green oil is the cure for all ailments. It’s a magic potion.

Yup, those were the myths my Asian parents told me. And my naive self believed every bit of it.