How I Ended Up Learning Chinese
Divorce and Consequences.
I couldn’t come up with a good way of putting this into a video, and I’m reluctant to post reflections of this kind online as text, partly because the written word may lack the same sense of sincerity, and partly because I’ve really lost my faith in anyone having the ability to read without adding to or disregarding what the text really says.
I also lack the most basic conviction that helps egomaniacs become great entertainers: I just don’t think that my own story and experience are significant for much of anyone else, and I’m not really motivated to make an impression on anyone, one way or another.
However, there are two strong motives that shape what I'll now say, and what I don’t say: I’m aware that one day, eventually, my daughter could be seeing this, and I’m aware that (even now) my ex-wife could have co-workers and bosses seeing this --and so if I say too much, it could cause problems for her.
For the sake of my daughter, though, I don’t think I can say nothing at all.
The question might be asked by her (or by anyone) of how she ended up being born, and then separated from me a little less than one year later, and why she grew up without me, while I was (strangely) learning Chinese, all alone, in Taiwan.
The answer is interesting, but like many stories that are true, it’s composed entirely of extraneous parts that are not drawn together by any single theme or direction.
So, what follows here is a set of autobiographical reflections that may be of interest to only one person many years from now; however, it explains the circumstances of that one person’s birth, and of my separation from her.