Alistair's blog

I remember one random evening, when I was still in primary, the phone ringed in our kitchen and said it was for me. Perplexed, I ran to the kitchen to pick up. I immediately heard sobbing from the other line – it turns out that one of my best friends from school, or perhaps my best friend, was calling me to tell me his parents decided to move back to Japan. And he was heartbroken by the news. I, on other hand, asked the awkward question, “Ok. When are you coming back?” He then tried to explain that he wasn’t. And that it was a permanent move. In reality, I understood him perfectly the first time he announced it. But because I was embarrassed by my lack of emotional expression, I had to pretend that I misunderstood him.

Well, let me introduce you to my friend Sunny.

I first met Sunny at an arbitrary dinner involving several other people. She was sitting to my right. And immediately, I concluded that either she was a) an introvert or b) she didn’t like me. I tried starting a conversation with her all night, and most of them did not spur much chemistry except the topics of tennis and boxing. Logically, I followed up with the statement, “Oh yeah? We should play tennis sometime.” I didn’t expect much from this suggestion, as they mostly disappoint. But I was pleasantly shocked when a week later, Sunny sent me a message inviting me to play tennis with another friend of hers. And contrary to my first impression of her, she arrived to the tennis court and greeted me with a big smile on her face.

While both of us may not be best at making first impressions and looking approachable, that did not stop us from spending more and more time with each other, mostly surrounding a type of sport. In the early days, it was tennis. Now, we don’t play as often anymore (well, I don’t play much anymore) and neither do we box as frequently together – we have transitioned from playing a sport together to somewhat spending more time on non-sporty things. However, it is rare now that we spend time 1-on-1 since the lack of common hobbies. I have been trying to get into running, but it will be a while where I will feel qualified to run with her – just like how she feels unqualified to box with me. In many ways, despite the many differences Sunny and I share, we are painfully similar in other ways.

Speaking of differences, let me try my best to describe who she is: first, there is the often-quoted sentimental side of Sunny that everyone seems to identify. This side of her, like her name suggests, offers energy and kindness to the people around her – this means celebrating birthdays with thoughtful gifts, organizing activities for her friends to bond together, and crying over movie scenes that involve the death of loved ones. She finds beauty in the little things. The beautiful sunset on the occasional run can be the highlights of her week and her entire weekend trip can be defined by one dish that pleasantly surprised her. On the contrary to this, and what in my opinion reinforces her sentimentality, is what can bother her. By caring, she can often feel attacked and responsible if a project at work didn’t go well; if a trip or event did not go as planned and people did not have a good time; if she went to boxing class and didn’t master the combo the instructor was teaching, and if someone makes a comment that triggers her overthinking. Just like a simple meal that could be the highlight of her day, these little things can also make her possibly depressed days on end.

These are the things that can be obvious at first sight. What may not be as obvious, however, is that Sunny can be incredibly rational and perceptive too. I always believed that Sunny could be a good lawyer, with the condition that she actually cares about the defendant. This rational side, most frequently displayed in her forefront planning, can be captured when you see Sunny putting a finger on her mouth and looking away, intense in thought. If you go to her apartment, it would be different to what you expect the home of a feeling-oriented person to look like. It survives off necessities, and don’t include too much unnecessary decorations. Her fridge, perhaps like mine these days, only include enough food to be consumed within a few days. When she gets into an argument, or get in a position where she needs to make a point, she can rattle off little things that you yourself would even ignore about yourself, while demonstrating her phenomenon memory for details. I remember the times where she introduced me to her friend, and she would bring up a story of me that I would even forget myself. Yet she brings it up to demonstrate a character trait of mine – it’s like she’s an investigative journalist, jotting down field research on her pads, where she can readily use in her article (to clarify, a good and positive article usually).

If you asked Sunny herself how she would describe herself in relation to me. She would tell you, “Whatever traits Alistair don’t have, I do.” As she herself once claimed, the compatibility between her and some other friends are at “15-20%” while her compatibility score with me is at a shocking “0” – I don’t agree necessarily with the statement but won’t argue with it either. In such a premise, she may be kind, extroverted, empathetic, joyful, and be good at running, but she also must live with being known as notoriously unfunny.

I’ve mentioned this idea that Schopenhauer once raised about friendship – “Several porcupines huddled together for warmth on a cold day in winter; but, as they began to prick one another with their quills, they were obliged to disperse. However, the cold drove them together again, when just the same thing happened.”  It is inevitable that sometimes the cost of intimacy within a relationship leads to conflict. Sunny and I, on more than once occasion, have dealt with this, including an incident that happened recently. I don’t want to include the details here. But it made me rethink certain things and habits about myself. In general, it is incredibly difficult to change somebody. If you want to make your life miserable, try spending it trying to change someone. Sunny calls me out on my usual tendencies that may have inadvertently hurt her. My usual reaction does not help either. I usually am quick to defend myself, proving that I am not guilty of the intended damage I have caused. These reactions – that usually do not start with an apology – continues to worsen the conflict and lead to nowhere. Perhaps habits from my childhood have creeped up to me as an adult. And as an adult, in the real world, sooner or later you realize that at some point you simply need to take accountability.

Sunny – in many ways that she may not even realize – has done so much for me since moving back to Shanghai. She is a wonderful person, with so many better qualities that I do. For one, if you surveyed all the people that know us, including even the few my friends who have met her, they would all unequivocally tell you that she is so much nicer to have around than me. She is more pleasant to be around while I can be incredibly difficult to befriend. Even my closest friends would admit, I have many flaws. One of these flaws seem to be the lack of communication in moments where I should be empathetically clear of what I’m thinking. As I’ve mentioned – change is often hard in a person. And I’ve been trying. But even then, there are times where my intention is misguided, and I do stupid things.

Unlike business and perhaps even philosophical problems, which usually include a logical answer that you can discover, human problems require a little more work – they are more complicated. And it takes more patience than one may have to unveil these truths.

* * * * * *

I think the happiest that I’ve seen Sunny is during the start of a road trip near the weekend of my birthday. We rented a 7-seater van and drove to a campsite more than 2 hours away to take a break from the city. Sunny was visibly excited during the start of the trip, clearly in a good mood, and clapping her hands together as the van took off into the highway with music in the background. I bring this up to illustrate a hypothesis, or a fundamental fact that I believe is true about Sunny: I think Sunny was happy during that moment because a) she obviously enjoyed the trip and was looking forward to it but also more importantly b) she didn’t have much responsibility in that moment (which is rare for her), and felt freeing enough to enjoy the moment. Sunny is so often the person automatically assumed in charge of events and planning, and because she doesn’t want to let people down, these duties and assumed pressure prevents her from enjoying the moment.

Perhaps in the end, there’s still a childhood version of Sunny standing there, navigating this adult world, and not feeling she’s good enough.

Well, if I’m going to finish this piece with one thing, allow me to disprove this premise for her. And I may not be the best person who tells her this, as neither Sunny nor I are the best at expressing anything that resembles sentiment to each other. But as she would agree, I am very good at telling things for what they are, the truth; and the truth is this: I wish one day, perhaps today, Sunny could accept how perfectly imperfect she is. Just like everybody else in this world. I’ve recently grappled with this idea quite strongly, and although sometimes it sounds like an excuse, it is not. It is rather a fundamental fact about life and character. Every friend of Sunny that I have met understands who she is and accepts her for who she is. Just like how she does for them. For all of her virtues that she displays, and the positive parts of a person that makes someone easy to like, it is exactly the times where she shows her flaws and weakness, when she gets a little depressed, that makes me realize how great of a person she is – it means that above all, she tries her best even when she’s not feeling her best self, and that she still puts herself out there, at the risk of being disappointed. That takes real courage.

I once watched Sunny travel to her office on a Sunday evening to deliver personalized postcards she wrote for her colleagues (with one exception I’ve been told) to see the next morning. She felt doing so the next morning would be too embarrassing and perhaps draw too much attention. So, I hope she doesn’t mistake this piece as a grand gesture of me telling her how much I appreciate her. This is not that, as that will make her feel uncomfortable. I hope instead this piece serves like a little pat on her back, and that when life knocks her down, it serves as a reminder that she is good enough. And that it is okay to take a break and enjoy the view.

I remember Buffett giving this speech at a university once, and he mentioned a Jewish friend of his that survived the holocaust. She told him that the key question in the back of her head when she meets new people is, “Would they hide me?” Warren argued that when you get to his age, it is not the money or buildings that you donate that define whether you are a success, it is whether people are willing to hide you. And more importantly, whether the people you love and want to love you back are willing to hide you.

I can’t think of anyone I know who would pass this test better than Sunny.

* * * * * *

I had this piece saved on my laptop for a couple of weeks now. But never published it on what is now a dead blog. I didn’t know what I wanted to add to it, though my instincts told me something was missing.

I think it might be this: I can clearly feel Sunny and I being more distant in the last couple of weeks. Although we reconciled after a bumpy period, I feel that something fundamental have changed about our relationship. We don’t talk as often anymore nor do we hang out as often anymore. I suspect, both of us, either consciously or perhaps unconsciously, have mutually agreed to keep a more comfortable distance between each other. Perhaps because of the conflicts we’ve had, Sunny feels that she can protect herself better this way and not bother me as much as I value alone time too.

I can’t tell you exactly how I feel about this. I might be wrong too. But I am agnostic towards it. Perhaps Schopenhauer was right.

It’s interesting – sometimes I can see on her face that she is distracted (or not) about something. Which is then followed by the question, “You seem distracted, or sad, or whatever.” And often the response is, “Me? No.” It reminds me of a frequent interaction with my mum, where she always assumes that I am distracted by something that is causing me great stress. Sometimes it’s true, but even then, I will deny her line of questioning. This type of dynamic frequently plays out between Sunny and I, and I always end up not asking further, assuming that she is fine, and just need some space.

I’ve forgotten what my point is here. But it reminds me of that phone call I received that evening. Two individuals, opposite ends of a cell line…so similar, yet so different.