Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: music

Finding that almost non-existent common ground (part four)

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This is my last post on finding common ground within my family. Probably. Here is yesterday’s post explaining some of my family history. It’s necessary to at least know the basics before I dive into the latest chapter.

My mother is having a really hard time dealing with my father’s dementia. This is not a surprise, obviously, as dementia is really cruel. Both on the person it’s consuming and anyone around that person–especially the caretaker/s.

The problem is that she still hasn’t accepted that the dementia isn’t reversible. One of the last times we talked, she brought up some promising science that suggests there may be a way to reverse dementia in the very early stages. I will admit, I was impatient when I told her that it was not a thing, but that’s because I know better than to give my mother an inch.

Also, I did look up the science she was talking about, and even if it was promising, it was not applicable to my father. Even if it had been, it’s in the very nascent stages. That means it will be years before it can go on sale–if the efficacy turns out to replicable and an actual thing.

My mother talks about how she’s doing this, that, and the other thing in hopes that my father will turn back to ‘normal’. She also mentions how frustrated and bewildered she gets when they’re having a conversation, and he suddenly veers into dementia.

I understand and symppathize with the latter. He’s not so bad when we’re talking as he can usually keep to a topic (that topic being when am I going to go visit him), but when he does start spouting gibberish, there is no warning.  He usually knows who I am, but he can’t grasp that I live thousands of miles away from him.

I have read about what you’re supposed to do when someone spirals into delusions/dementia. Basically, just go along with whatever they are saying. So like when my father asks (demands) when I’m going to visit him, I tell him soon. Or in a few months. Or whatever. I have to repeat it over and over, but usually, he will accept it.

Sometimes, however, he surprises me. He’ll say how long it’s been since he’s seen me (true. It’s been nearly four years), and then urge me to plan something sooner with my mother. Also, one time, I said that I would go visit him the next day. Much to my surprise, he latched onto it and got really excited. He shouted to my mother that I was coming, and I realized that I had made a mistake.


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The ground is common, but weird (part two)

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In yesterday’s post, I was talking about a Taiwanese pop song that I really liked, but could not find online. It came up when I was on Zoom with my parents after my father sang several songs, one after the other. I did not want to interrupt him because he has so little that gives him pleasure these days.

It’s really sad. When I look into his eyes, there is nothing there. It’s astonishing that he can still speak English (his third language), but he’s losing more of his vocabulary every time I talk to him. He will sometimes slip back into Chinese or Taiwanese when we talk, but it’s not really a problem as, well, to put it bluntly, it’s not as if his English is the best right now, either.

I can understand most of what he says in any language, though it doesn’t always make sense. What I mean is that I can understand each individual word, but the way he puts them together doesn’t always make sense.

I know it’s part of the dementia, but it’s so fucking cruel. Watching someone lose himself bit by bit (or in chunks) every time I talk to him is excruciating. In addition, he’s fixated on me going there. He says he hasn’t seen me in a long time, which is true. It’s been almost four years since they were here for my medical crisis.

Here’s the problem, though. I can’t fly and neither can they. For them, it’s age and my father’s dementia. For me, it’s my various immune system issues. I have not flown since my medical crisis. I was going to fly to Ian in April of 2020 and K in October of the same year, but, of course, the pandemic changed those plans.

I don’t know if I would feel comfortable flying domestically, let alone internationally. My parents are too old and frail to fly here, either. To be honest,  I’m glad. I have a really hard time being in the same room as they are for several reasons, but at least I have a legit excuse for not flying out.

As I mentioned yesterday, I have known for at least a decade if not longer that my relationship with my parents was never going to be close. I knew that civil was the best I could ask for and not resenting/hating/feeling bad about my parents was a plus.

Back to the song. I’ve added another version below, one I quite like. I’ve found several versions of it, so it’s more popular than my mom and I had originally thought. I even found a duet by two people who did it one of those The Voice type of shows. That was interesting, though not my favorite version.


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Finding (weird) common ground

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The last time I talked to my parents (before tonight), it was on Zoom the night before yesterday. It was mostly my mother and I talking because my father is not all there these days. His dementia is getting worse by the day, and it’s really sad to see.

Side note: No matter how bad our relationship was in the past, it’s painful to see him like this. Dementia is so very cruel, and no one deserves it.

At one point, he started singing. I don’t remember if my mom suggested it or not, but he was happy to sing. He used to be a great singer, and he enjoyed it very much. Now, it’s more like a tuneless monotone that barely resembles song. But if he enjoys it, then so be it. It’s good that there’s something he likes to do. According to my mother, he spends most of his time sleeping.

I patiently listened to him sing song after song. I didn’t mind that much, even though it hurt my heart. And it wasn’t pleasant on my ears. But if it made him happy, then I was ok with it.

At some point, my mother and I talked about a Taiwanese song I really liked. It was a duet, and I could hear snippets of the music in my head, but that was it. I thought it had something to do with blood and a dead soldier and lost love, but I wasn’t sure.

Part of the problem was that I don’t know how to read, write, or speak Chinese. I can understand some basic common phrases, but that’s it.

To back it up a bit, my mother sent me a CD decades ago of a very popular Taiwanese female singer. Well, two CDs of two different popular female singers (or maybe two from the same one?), and there was a song I really liked on it. A duet that was very moody in sound and, I presumed, in lyrics.

I tried to find it on YouTube maybe a decade after that, and I finally found it after much searching. My parents and I have sang it several times together. This is the backstory for what happened in these last few days.

My mother told me the name of the female singer. We then spent the next hour trying to find the song. My father had long since left and went back to bed. My mother and I were separately trying to find this song and not having much success.

My mom said if I could come up with any of the lyrics, that would really help. I thought about it and could not come up with anything. I found other songs by the singer that I liked, including another duet. But not the one I was thinking of.


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I Ate An Angsty White Boy, and He Was Delicious

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I was in Home Depot yesterday with Ian, and the music is definitely white boy heavy. It’s not surprising, given where I was, but I was struck by just how much angsty white boy music there is, and how much I fucking love it. Then I heard:

In a way I need a change from this burned out scene
Another time, another town, another everything,
But it’s always back to you.

I told Ian that was my jam and started singing along:

How many times can I break until I shatter?
Over the line can’t define what I’m after
I always turn the car around

I sang it quietly, but I was definitely into it. As I was singing, I struggled to remember who sang it. Snow Patrol? No. Dishwalla? No. Good Charlotte? No. After several seconds of agony, it hit me. O.A.R.! That’s who it was. I excitedly relayed the information to Ian, and he looked flummoxed. “This is O.A.R.?!!!” He couldn’t believe it because it turns out that O.A.R. used to be a noodly stoner jam band. I listened to some of their earlier stuff when we got home, and it’s completely different than their big hits. I said, “O.A.R. gotta eat,  yo!” which was evident in their newest song which is literally a video of the lead singer being a dad in which he sings about putting food on the table.


Quick aside: Sometimes, I go down the WatchMojo rabbit hole, and yes, I know they’re terrible and everything that’s wrong with the world, so don’t @ me. However, it can be addictive, and I recently saw one about the Top 10 Biggest Musical Sellouts, and it touched off one of my pet peeves. People need to eat, even artists, and it’s easy to say that someone should be holy and pure when they are being creators, but you can’t eat ideals. I usually bring p the case of Liz Phair because she was all alternative and Lilith Fair-ish for the early part of her career. Then, she decided she wanted to be more marketable and released a record deliberately aimed garnering a wider audience. It worked, and her song, “Why Can’t I?” became a pop hit. I’m not a big Liz Phair fan, but I was peeved at how whiny people got. If someone listened to her hits and then listened to her old stuff, maybe they would be converts! Also, it can be cold comfort to be a better musician than, say, the Spice Girls, but not have half the recognition.

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No Guilt; Only Pleasure

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The concept of ‘guilty pleasure’ has always been an anathema to me. I mean, I get it intellectually. “This is so bad, but I like it!” Shame shame shame (real or imagined). But, I don’t have that, and I think there are a few reasons for it. One, I’ve always liked things/thought things that are outside the norm. I got used to having to defend things such as why I don’t want to have children (which, by the way, still don’t want *waves at people who insisted I would change my mind*) or get married, why I don’t wear makeup or like traditionally feminine things, and just about every other aspect of my life including my sexuality. After explaining why I didn’t want to have kids (before I learned that ‘no’ was an answer in and of itself or that I didn’t actually have to answer) for the umpteenth time, the fact that I like, say, The Pina Colada Song*, ain’t no skin off my nose.

Tangent: I post this video on my FB wall every now and then. Apparently, I did it two days in a row, and someone playfully thanked me for giving them the earworm. They said they would have to retaliate if I posted it for a third day in a row. Guess what I did? Damn right I posted it for the third day in a row! They responded with this:

Which, you probably won’t be surprised to learn, is another unironic fave of mine. I embraced it fully.

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