2016.05.17 The Weight of Maiden Name

　　這次Essay的格式是Synthesis Essay。我交了兩篇上去，一篇是老師要求的Synthesis Form，一篇則是我一開始心血來潮開始寫的文章。

　　第一篇文章因為有特定要求的格式，導致我寫的綁手綁腳，理所當然地慘不忍睹。老師在課堂上毫不保留的表示：「當你寫作樂在其中的時候，我看的出來，因為讀者也樂在其中；但當你寫的過程十分痛苦，我讀起來也很痛苦。」

　　其中小會晤的時候，老師就和我說：「你上篇文章寫得很痛苦齁」

　　我就知道老師在課堂上說的就是我了哈哈哈哈orz

　　收到評語以後更是萬分地確定絕對是我造成了老師的痛苦XD

　　不過第二篇心血來潮的文章就受到了老師的好評！秉持著炫耀與家醜不外揚（？）的精神，當然就是只PO得意之作啦～

　　所以因為懶得改，就把老師兩篇文章的評語與原始文章PO上來。

The Weight of Maiden Name (Excellent title)

         The married daughter is splashed water. (Interesting) She ought to obey her new family, dive into chores, and raise her children for her husband. (Tough new world) She should forget her splendid life before the marriage. She would be her husband (husband’s) property. The only clue she can look back to her wonderful, colorful, meaningful life is her maiden name which is the only thing no one can deprive. They used to take it away from her too, but they no longer do this. They thought the right to be call by her name is the privilege and a big progress in women right.

         My mother’s maiden name is Hsiung, which means bear in Chinese. (Wonderful) My grandfather was educated by Japanese, since that time Taiwan was colonized by Japanese. They call themselves the “Kuma”, which means bear in Japanese. (What an echo) My father’s last name is Hsieh, which has the meaning of appreciation. Having a last name called bear must be very cool(informal?) , I couldn’t expel this idea out of my mind when I were little. Once I learned that we can decide our own last name by the time we are 18, I told my mom I’m joining the Kuma club too. “Don’t be silly,” she said, “you are Hsieh, you will always be Hsieh.” (Powerful) What I couldn’t understand that time was the sorrow and bitterness flicked in her eyes.

         Ms. Hsiung and Mr. Hsieh were elementary school’s classmate. Girls and Boys had the most furious war in that age. Therefore, not until the Kumas immigrated to the US, and Mr. Hsieh was pursuing his master degree in the state as well, did they appreciate the beauty of differences. Mr. Hsieh was the eldest son in his family. Ms. Hsiung knew that, but she had been absorbing the American culture for more than a decade, forgetting the unreasonable restriction in a traditional Taiwanese family. “How bad it could be?” She thought. The calling of love overwhelmed her conscience. “Everyone should have their own family,” She consulted herself,” I will not lose myself. I am not the others.” (Excellent) She thought she could make something different like all the teenagers think they can save the world. Thus she indulged in marriage.

         Mrs. Hsiung packed all her fancy clothes into a box, hided (hid) them up high on the cupboard. Every visit of Mrs. Hsieh was the troop invading her privacy little by little, dragged her secrets into the sun light, until Mrs. Hsiung had no ego. Mrs. Hsiung cooked fantastic diner, four different nutritious dishes with flavorful soup, to please her mother-in-law. However, Mrs. Hsieh was complaining about the freshness of the shrimps, although the fish stand promised it was the freshest shrimp he had. Mrs. Hsiung lost her voice in the new house which used to fill her home with laughter. Her husband provided no help since the files stacked on his office desk was as high as the Jade Mountain. “Mrs. Hsieh, you looks so tired,” said the butchery. “I am fine,” Mrs. Hsiung said. “And I am not Mrs. Hsieh,” she whispered in her head. Mrs. Hsiung was silently suffocated by the tradition of moral, taking apart by all the trivial murmur of the neighbors.

She retrieved her smile when she learned that she was pregnant. The new life in her belly was telling her the top secret of life’s joyness in their language which only a mother knows how to speak. The world went silent when she heard the first cry of her baby. The horn of new born life blew, and there was I. Yet the happiness did not last very long. The collapse of her world had frozen for a while, at the moment that she thought everything can go back to the good old time, and then the flame of Mrs. Hsieh rage thawed the happiness. “Next time, it has to be a boy,” Mrs. Hsieh left the words before the temperature in the room went under 0 degree. What made it worse was that she found out a baby is just a creature which eats and poops. She lost her comrade instantly. When the birth certificate of the baby was printed, she reviewed it and thought that why the baby had to have the name of Hsieh rather than Hsiung. “She would have a beautiful life as I had,” Mrs. Hsiung thought. As she had.

“I am not going to the ballet class anymore,” my sister screamed, tossing her bag pack of ballet on floor, running away from Mrs. Hsiung who came to pick her beloved daughter up.(Wonderful technique like in ESL)

“But why?” Mrs. Hsiung didn’t understand why her daughter is out of control,” You know that in the old days we don’t have any chance to learn it. And the teacher said you are a good dancer!”

“You should never let your daughter become who you failed to be,” my sister said,” You don’t know how much I hate to dance.”

Mrs. Hsiung went silent. She had never felt so helpless after she gave birth to a second daughter. This time Mrs. Hsieh did not need to say anything to keep her aware of her failure of being a wife. And now she fell to control her daughter. She had lost her first gamble of being herself in the marriage, and she was losing her second play. So she went home with my sister in dreadful silence, drifting in her wondrous life she used to have.

Staring at her last name on her driver license, Mrs. Hsiung wondered why don’t the society take her last name away as well. Since a married daughter is asked to abandon her life, why should she keep her last name? What is the definition of a perfect wife? Of a perfect family?

 “Why would they leave this clue for me to look back,” she pondered,” if marriage is a road has no turning back?”

 “Did my mom fought for it too? Or she didn’t consider it as mental bully,” Mrs. Hsiung let the questions washed away with the shower foam, echoed in the tube leads to faraway land where were no answers neither.

Rebirth started with the son’s birth. (Wow) Mrs. Hsiung learned that the birth of her son was not only a new life but also the right to speak on dining table. She had figured out the rules. No more obedience, she decided. After all the attempt in vain on her two daughters, she seemed to give up on trying to teach her son anything but the basic school knowledge. As long as she was keeping her children alive, this method seemed maximized the happiness in the family.

“You can give a try on everything, except evil things” Mrs. Hsiung told her children.

“How we know if it is evil or not?” we asked.

“Then ask me before you do it,” she answered.

Mrs. Hsiung had retrieved her power by approving all the decisions we’ve made, she was satisfied by the new decision making process, and we thought we controlled everything because we had come up with all the strangest ideas.

“You have to check this if it’s evil or not!” children league screamed, waving a disc.

“What is that?” Mrs. Hsiung frowned.

“Online game! You have to play with us so you can inspect whether it is evil or not!” children league thought they got their mom this time.

What (the children’s league) children league didn’t think about was that Mrs. Hsiung took over the game as well.

“Why would you play online game with your mom?” one of my brother’s classmate asked him.

“Then you have to find someone else to play better than she does and is willing to play with me,” my brother shrugged, swinging his legs.

Mrs. Hsiung is still trapped in her marriage, in her family under the tradition of Taiwan. The air of liberty sneaked in to the conservative house when Mrs. Hsiung realized that she can make her own rules. (Wow) Neighbors’ murmur became the meaningless whisper of wind blew through the clothes hanging on the balcony. (Excellent image) Mrs. Hsiung is building her own way toward her new splendid life. Now the order of Mrs. Hsieh never bothers her anymore, Mrs. Hsiung is not rebelling any rules if she is not in the institution. The pressure once on her shoulder is now gone.

“Mom, I still want to be a member of Kuma club,” I said, when I turned eighteen.

“Fight your grandma by yourself,” She rolled her eyes and focused again with her webpage game, which her farm is named as Kuma’s Farm.

Okay, you really have a talent for the emotional, psychological, nuanced and powerful moments in life…your writing is full of struggle and promise…again, keep writing, just for yourself…get about 12-15 of these essays done…and then consider applying to a master’s program…you really have the gift.