I love conferences.

1) I like learning and it's always great to learn about new advancements in the veterinary field or tips and tricks that I can apply to my daily work-life.

2) It's heartening to see a lecture room full of other veterinarians; it reminds me I am not alone in feeling like I can do better.

3) It's a nice excuse to visit new places I might not otherwise have gone to, especially on someone else's dime.

4) It's a vacation from work, even if it is work-adjacent.

This year's plans to aim for conferences in Hawaii and Toronto fell through, so I found myself organizing to attend one in Washington, DC during the less-than-ideal month of August. It's hot! And humid! And prone to thunderstorms! I convinced my mom to come along - why not enjoy the free hotel room and amenities (pool and exercise room for her, rooftop deck for me) and explore the sights?

Two days into the trip, we got a phone call that my grandma had vomited while lying in bed. Her lips were purple when they found her and there was significant concern for aspiration pneumonia. There wasn't any discussion to be had. My mom booked the earliest flight out of DC that she could find. 

I've detailed before how I am not a good granddaughter. I can't lie and say I wasn't disappointed and sad at this turn of events, but I think it's only human. I had been looking forward to this trip, being able to "give" my mom something and letting her have a relaxing, stress-free week. Lee - one of her "kids" - had been looking forward to spending time with her and showing her his new place in New York. But also I understood that there was no question that she had to go home; this is her mother, the only parent she has left. I would have done the same in a heartbeat for my mom and my dad.

I offered to return home if needed, but truthfully there wouldn't be anything I could do, so I stayed behind knowing that I might have to leave in a hurry should things take a turn for the worse. I didn't sleep at all that first night, a mess of disappointment and worry, sad for my family, upset with myself. I'd text my mom mid-day for an update and call when the conference was over for the day. 

And then there were the two mass shootings in the US within 24 hours.

To be fair, everyone around me seemed unfazed. I sat in a small Ethiopian restaurant across the street from my hotel, watching reporters give updates on the estimated number of deaths and injuries. I watched as the authorities in El Paso praised the power of prayer and discussed a manifesto indicating it was a racially motivated attack. I was eating alone and so was focused on the broadcast; everyone else seemed to be having a regular night, engaged in normal conversation.

I squeezed in as many sights as I could in what seemed to me like unbearable heat. I became increasingly aware of the police presence, even at the conference itself. I became grateful for the metal detectors and x-rays at the museums along the National Mall. I observed the many American flags flying at half-mast, a heightened appreciation that I was in very public and crowded areas where there would be little to no cover should someone decide to open fire.

The museums I visited did not sugarcoat the oftentimes dark and unsavoury details of American history. I almost physically recoiled reading about the American response to the plight of the Jewish people during the Holocaust. I was appalled at the repeated exploitation and breaking of treaties with the Native American population. The brutality and injustices suffered by the African-American population asking for equality was infuriating and heartbreaking. Sitting at "The Segregated Lunch Counter" interactive exhibit was disheartening; I could never have had the bravery to risk everything the way these young people did, yet what choice did they have?

Certainly a week of reflection - not just on me as a veterinarian, but as a daughter, granddaughter, and human being.

There is so much more that I can and should be doing.

I took my mother to see the musical adaptation of The Band's Visit last night. As someone who had never even heard of the original movie released some ten years ago, I made the decision to pick it over Aladdin because I suspect I will have many opportunities to catch a generally successful Disney musical (RIP The Little Mermaid), whereas a smaller musical like this one - even given it's Tony Award-winning pedigree - is much less likely to travel to Vancouver and thus I would need to rely on happenstance. The Band's Visit happens to be playing at The Kennedy Center while we're in DC. This, I figured, was my happenstance.

I approach musicals in one of two ways - I consume the soundtrack entirely and know almost every word by heart by the time I finally get to watch it, or I go in absolutely blind - although since many musicals are adaptations, I know the general story beats. I decided for the latter option with The Band's Visit, basically only knowing that an Egyptian band is stranded in an Israeli town.

To be fair, there's not much more than that.

While I've seen my share of musicals make themselves out to be sweeping epics with what may feel like large stakes at risk, The Band's Visit is more of a brief, lovely vignette on connection and loneliness,  love and loss. It's a little slip of a thing at just under 2 hours with no intermission, but it was tender and sweet-natured in its own quiet way. It's just ordinary people living their ordinary lives, crossing paths and then moving onwards.

I suspect my mother would have enjoyed the theatrics and bombastic nature of Aladdin more, but she laughed at all the right places and seemed to enjoy it well enough. And that's good enough for me.

Made a quick jaunt down to Seattle to visit some friends! The ability to do so shows how lucky I am in many ways. Lucky to have friends who will host me and make time in their busy schedules for me. Lucky to have the kind of freedom and financial stability to nip down for a quick visit whenever my schedule allows. Lucky to be in possession of a passport and to have a "trusted traveler" card that lets me move through immigration more quickly without undue harassment.

Anyway, I had a lovely weekend just spending time with people I love! I am still my old introvert-self in so many ways, but I will give my very muted extroverted side a bit of a stretch every once in awhile!

Back home after a blissful five day getaway in Tofino with friends. We hunkered down in a delightful little cabin on the beachfront with its own private hot tub facing the water. We lived a pretty carefree existence in this time and indulged in lots of good food, good company, and good fun!

I love Star Wars. This is a fact that I have no qualms about sharing. And perhaps my relationship with the franchise is a little more complicated now than it has been in the past. Do I love it wholeheartedly and accept it for all that it is? Maybe not. But in the end, there is no question that I do  love it.

I always say that Star Wars came to me later in life than most; my parents had filled my early years with Disney (another complicated but nonetheless everlasting love) but my science fiction exposure was sorely lacking. A rekindled grade school friendship with a very bright and slightly anti-social classmate led to her sharing her favourite thing in the world with me, and she was perplexed that I had never watched any of the movies despite being the ripe old age of ten. She was extremely invested in the franchise and was bound and determined to show me the light, and I was more than willing to be converted. Her enthusiasm in sharing this universe with me meant that I basically knew all the plot details before I ever had the opportunity to experience them myself, but somehow it didn't dampen my first viewings of the movies in the slightest. Maybe the anticipation of seeing things play out on screen as she had described them even enhanced things, in a way. Regardless, she held the gate open for me and I dove head-first along after her. She generously shared her extensive collection of Extended Universe (EU) novels with me, gifted me with any doubles she had from the Star Wars card game, we pored over her small collection of art books and encyclopedias, and she introduced me to the world of fanfiction.

Being the impressionable child that I was, my initial experience was coloured by my friend's very strong opinions: Han and Leia were superior to cry-baby Luke, the Rebel Alliance was in the right but the Imperial Army was aesthetically much cooler, the original Thrawn Trilogy was superior to all else, so on. Sure, I may have not-so-secretly preferred the Young Jedi Knights series aimed towards our specific demographic, but I was still mostly in awe of her vast knowledge in all things Star Wars and deferred to her expertise on the subject.

The friendship fizzled out when my friend's parents opted to pull her out in favour of home-schooling, but my love for Star Wars endured. I dragged my family and friends to the movies being re-released in theaters, even forcing everyone to suffer sitting in the front row with our heads craned right back. Sure, I wasn't quite as invested in the EU - having lost my easy access to books - but I did at least follow through on A.C. Crispin's Han Solo Trilogy through high school. Like many, I was sorely disappointed with the prequels, opting out of watching the second movie in theaters entirely. My newly designated first boyfriend insisted I catch up so we could watch the third together when it premiered, and I am embarrassed to admit that I had my first kiss while we were trapped amidst the terrible "romantic" dialogue peppered throughout the second movie. 

Even before the prequels, I had learned to cherry-pick what I liked in the Star Wars universe. I have come around on Luke Skywalker, but any books that focused too much on his adventures tended to lose my interest. I was decidedly not enthralled with Thrawn or Mara Jade or any of the books that focused too much on them. I enjoyed the anthologies like Tales from Jabba's Palace, but really it was the Solo family that I loved - Leia, Han, all three Solo children, and of course Chewbacca. The Courtship of Princess Leia, The Crystal Star, and the Young Jedi Knights series were especial favourites of mine. I read many others that I felt lukewarm towards at best, and promptly forgot about them. When I heard all the things that had happened in the newest EU novels (Chewie dead, Anakin Solo dead, Jacen Solo evil), I decided I was better off living in my own little bubble.

When Disney purchased Star Wars, I greeted the news with a shrug. Star Tours had been in Disneyland for longer than I could remember, and the amount of Disney and Star Wars crossover merchandise made all of it unsurprising to me. I was cautiously excited when the new trilogy was announced, and moved into unreserved anticipation when the first trailer was released. I enjoyed The Force Awakens immensely, and even though I was sad that the "original trio" were never reunited onscreen, I was grateful to have Han Solo back for even a short while (given Harrison Ford's frosty feelings towards the franchise as a whole), even if I was incredibly salty that my beloved Solo kids had been wiped out of existence for the underwhelming Kylo Ren. When Carrie Fisher passed away, I called my mother and sobbed in a way I had never done for a "celebrity". I sobbed through Rogue One (we had the unfortunate timing of having purchased tickets already for that day), sobbed through the trailer of The Last Jedi, and sobbed through a reasonable portion of the movie upon its release. I fully expect to sob through the last movie, disappointed that Leia and Carrie Fisher never got their rightful due, but grateful to have anything.

My relationship with the Star Wars fandom is tenuous as best. In the convention circuit, my experience with them has been overwhelmingly positive - they are open and welcoming, a bit hammy but genuine in their affection for the franchise. Online.... well, it's probably one of the most toxic fandoms out there for anyone who is not an average white male. It's disappointing and the one reason I would shy away from being associated too strongly with Star Wars.

Next year, some friends and I are venturing to Disney World after the opening of the new Galaxy's Edge, and I am 100% hyped for it. Does it matter that I am thirty-three and possibly too old for this? No, Star Wars heavily relies on that nostalgia anyway and I am not too proud to be their target market. Even the idea of being able to stand in front of full-ish scale reproduction of the Millenium Falcon is making me feel bubbly inside. That is what Star Wars does to me, and I am delighted to have that kind of child-like anticipation still alive.

Tonight, while we are off in a beautiful corner of our province in the remote-but-touristy surf-town of Tofino, my friends have kindly (and mostly enthusiastically) indulged me in a screening of The Empire Strikes Back. It's hard not to marvel at the starlit vistas with forbidding Star Destroyers floating serenely through space, the stunning puppeteering that infuses Yoda with life, the frankly jaw-dropping combination of shadow and light and colours in Luke and Vader's lightsaber duel, the look on Han Solo and Princess Leia's faces as he is lowered into the carbonite freezing chamber. It's probably been at least seven years since my last viewing, and it's still just as engaging.

To top the night off, we took advantage of the relatively sparse light pollution of this area and enjoyed a bout of star-gazing, marveling at the very faint dusting of stardust we could make out and the twinkling lights from so far away forming the constellations in our skies. It felt like a beautiful way to cap off the night. It felt right.

May the fourth be with you!

My recent - rapid - globetrotting to Melbourne and Hong Kong came about because of family. Everyone is getting older, their health statuses just that little more fragile. We lost my Gu-Ma - my dad's eldest sister - to cancer while I was still in the midst of my veterinary course. I have fond memories of when she took me to the amusement park on Centre Island and how she took it in stride (but was probably understandably annoyed) when I managed to stand on tip-toe for height measurements, meaning she needed to pay more for my entrance fee.


My dad turned 70 this year, and he's the fourth child of six. I always say to my mom that in comparison to her siblings - who tend to be louder, more expressive with their emotions, and just a bit more "westernized" - my dad's side of the family is a bit harder to read. The difference between them is notable even in how I address them: I use "Auntie Grace and Uncle Steve" on her side of the family, whereas I use the appropriate Chinese kinship designations for my dad's family. You can pinpoint their exact relationship to me by what I call them.

Like my dad, his family shows their affection not through hugs or words. I am not a particularly "huggy" person, though I have become a bit more physically demonstrative with my affections through the years. But the stiff, somewhat awkward back-pats I receive when giving hugs to my uncles especially always makes me think "oh right, they don't really do this kind of thing". They show their affection by showing up, by conversing with me in a mix of Cantonese and English. Their English is 1000x stronger and more confident than my Cantonese, and the fact that I try to use my rudimentary Cantonese as much as possible is my family-trait of showing affection too. On my most recent trip, I discovered that, like my dad, they show affection through food and action. Ng-Suk drove through Hong Kong traffic for at least an hour each time to ferry me to and from the airport, from dinner in Hong Kong to where we were staying in the New Territories. My dad and Yi-Baak-Fu directed me to a tiny restaurant with amazing chee cheong fun. Saam-Baak-Fu and his wife bought me mangoes and strawberries. Yi-Baak-Fu made many of my favourite dishes and bought a huge pile of mangosteens, saying he knew that I liked them. How did he even know I love mangosteens? My first taste of them was maybe six years ago and sometimes even I forget how much I love them since I get them so rarely!

Ng-Suk I always think of as very pleasant but the hardest to read. He is very well-spoken and not at all awkward, but I have probably spent the least amount of time alone with him as we are usually with family or with his wife as well. I don't have very strong childhood memories of him, although it always made me laugh to see his picture on my dad's Costco membership card. When he came to Melbourne to visit some friends of his, he invited me (along with my friend who was kindly driving me around) to dinner and I got to see a better view of him. He was chatty, cheerful, and so funny! He shared stories of how when he and my dad were in the US for school, most of the American driving examiners couldn't tell them apart so my dad would just take the driving test for many of their Asian friends. I remember laughing so much with him that night and thinking how fun it was to spend that time with him.

The eldest uncle - my Yi-Baak-Fu - I knew to be a soft-spoken, thoughtful man who was a pediatrician. I used to have a book featuring characters from the Peanuts comic that focused on the human body and my eight-year-old self was obsessed. Knowing that my uncle was a pediatrician, I asked him millions of questions that he patiently contended with ("What does it mean when it says 'you are what you eat?'" remaining the biggest mystery to me). When I decided I wanted to be a pediatrician, I think he was secretly pleased. That I turned out to become a veterinarian was probably mild disappointment to him ("Tell Jocelyn that it's a much messier endeavour than she might think!" he would tell my mom) although he remained supportive. He wasn't necessarily the "fun uncle", but I remember him declaring he would accompany me to Ocean Park in Hong Kong because he had a senior's discount now. Much like my dad when we were in Orlando, he would brave the water rides with me and then wait patiently when I hopped onto the bigger thrill rides. My recent visit to Hong Kong was really for him, because he asked if I could come. He is at risk for coronary blockages - or so my parents tell me - and so has settled into his quiet life. When I expressed to my dad that I felt like I'd spent little face-to-face time with him in my whirlwind four days in Hong Kong and felt badly, he arranged for Yi-Baak-Fu to come meet us for lunch and then we spent the afternoon with him up until the point where Ng-Suk drove us all to the airport and more awkward hugs were exchanged. It wasn't much and I felt a little badly having him come out, but at the same time I felt like I owed it to him to spend a bit more time with him. When I offhandedly commented on his cute umbrella with the teddy-bear handle, he decided that I should take it home because I liked it; that's just the kind of person he is.

My mom always comments that my dad's side of the family really loves me. The specific word she uses in Cantonese is 錫. I don't know that I always feel deserving of it. I often comment to her that I worry about them all getting older over there with almost no one of my generation to look after them (though my younger cousin will be back soon) and certainly after this last visit I feel guilty that I don't go to Hong Kong more often. I think I may have to, for the sake of family.

The heat and humidity and pollution and crowds of Hong Kong always throw me into a state of bleary exhaustion. When I have not been out in the streets following my dad around, I have been passed out in bed under the steady hum of an air conditioner. I have always said that this is a city I could not live in, and as much as I love certain things like the pungent aroma of stinky tofu and delicious chee cheong fun slathered in sweet and nutty sauces, I can also feel myself rapidly withering here.

Hong Kong is definitely not for me.

I did have an encounter with a friend of my dad's who does - what else can I call it? - fortune-telling. But that will have to wait until I am a bit less fuzzy in mind and spirit to recount.

Melbourne was always going to be a whirlwind - I wanted so much to be able to spend as much time with Joy and Allison as possible, while also seeing Abdel and Nadia as well. As I explained to Joy, I have a very difficult time leaving Abdel and Nadia and I always have. One hour dinner stretch into four hours together, and they have always been so sweet to me that I can't bear to go. I have basically been eating non-stop with them as Nadia cooks all her best dishes and can't help but feel so humbled and loved. I am glad I was able to make this trip to see them. I am SO glad that Abdel appears to be responding well to treatment.

Joy and Allison are absolute fairy-godmothers. Or fairy-godsisters, whatever the correct term should be. They have gone above and beyond - Joy taking me to see a bit of Victoria I have never seen (which actually required some honest-to-goodness rock-climbing to get to the summit!) and Alison securing us tickets to see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - something I had absolutely not anticipated. They are still making this short-and-sweet visit an actual vacation for me, and for that I am so grateful!

There are still a few people to see and things to do, though I have tried very much to limit myself so as not to be over-exhausted. Jury is still out on whether I am succeeding, but I am happy and that's enough!

Back in Melbourne for a week! Things are familiar and unfamiliar at the same time - how things can change in 5 years!

Horrendously jet-lagged but made it through the day! Ready to collapse about now.