Ngày xưa mới qua Mỹ tôi nghe nhạc rap để học tiếng Anh. Giờ đây tôi cho mấy thằng nhỏ nghe rap Việt để nó học tiếng Việt. Mấy hôm nay nghe bài “They Said” của Bin Z có câu: “Nghe nói em đẹp tự nhiên không có sửa hả? / Nghe nói trai Sài Gòn không có cửa hả?”

Đán nói nó hiểu hai câu và dịch lại tiếng Anh như sau: “That means a beautiful girl has no milk and a boy has no door.”

Đán will turn seven on Thursday. We’re planning on taking him to his favorite sushi buffet to celebrate. Tonight he misbehaved; therefore, I told him that we will cancel the celebration if he doesn’t get his act together. He responded, “You hate me and you think I am fucked.” His words cut through me like a knife. I told him I was hurt and furious. I was holding Vương in my arms so I yelled at him and told him to get out of my room.

Đán’s behavior has changed drastically over the last year. At school, he failed to follow his teachers’ instructions. At home, he ignored our words. What irritated the heck out me was that he did what we asked him not to do. His misbehaves drove me nuts. I am extremely frustrated, but I can’t turn him away. I am working hard to bring out his charmness, selflessness, and hilariousness. He has those qualities in him, but he chose not to use them.

The failure is on me. I let my emotion takes over when I get furious and frustrated. Instead of spanking or yelling, I just shut myself down and out.

Lúc trước mỗi lần lạc mắt kính tôi phải tìm cho ra. Tôi đi lẩn quẩn quanh nhà như thằng mất trí. Càng tìm kiếm tôi càng bực tức với chính mình cho dù chỉ chuyện nhỏ nhặt. Giờ đây để lạc một cái tôi đeo cái khác cho đến khi cái bị thất lạc tự hiện ra.

Trong cuộc sống tôi cũng muốn áp dụng như thế. Không để những chuyện nhỏ nhặt khiến mình căng thẳng. Những việc gì không theo ý muốn của mình cũng nên coi nhẹ. Càng không thể để những gì mình tìm không được khiến mình bực bội. Không được cái này mình tìm cái khác. Hơi sức đâu mà phải tự mình làm khổ chính mình. Càng già tôi càng muốn sống nhẹ nhàng hơn.

Không háo thắng. Không tranh giành. Không đua đòi. Không ganh tị. Sống với những gì mình có. Sống với cuộc sống của riêng mình. Sống với chính mình. Dĩ nhiên là nói dễ hơn thực hành. Tôi vẫn chưa thật sự làm được những điều đó. Tôi không phải là một người hoàn hảo nhưng tôi tự biết mình cần làm gì để cuộc sống và tinh thần được yên tĩnh.

A few articles on fonts for your reading pleasure:

• Bethany Heck dives deep into Windsor, “a typeface of British origin that’s found its way into the ‘Ugly American’ vernacular,” designed by Eleisha Pechey. It’s a pleasure and informative read as always.
• Thomas Bohm argues for more existing typefaces with more character and language support than new similar typefaces with only basic support.
• Arun Venkatesan explains “Why are tech companies making custom typefaces?.”
• Rumsey Taylor shows how did Choc, a quirky calligraphic typeface drawn by a French graphic designer in the 1950s, end up on storefronts everywhere in New York City.

I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving and I don’t even like eating the plain turkey, but I appreciate the long five-day weekend. I spent most my time with my kids. These days I have to compete with the iPad. To get the three older boys off their device, I have to take them out of the house. We went out to eat and to fun places, but the most enjoyable time for us was getting back to nature.

I posted most of our activities on Facebook so our family members, especially my mom can see what her grandchildren are doing. Every time I talked to her over the phone she told me the joy of seeing them. I feel conflicted about Facebook. On one hand, I despise the platform. The way it fucks with our data and the way it mishandles misinformation. And yet, it is the only platform that even my mom knows how to use. Besides Facebook and YouTube, she would never venture out to this blog. Most of my family members don’t either, which is good. I still have my own space to truly be myself.

I am also feeling guilty that most of my Facebook posts are about living life. I give the impression that I am living a wonderful life and that I am such a great dad. The reality is not as rosy and I have my flaws as a parent. This blog captures the raw, unfiltered side of that. It appears as if I am living two different lives on two separate platforms. On Facebook, I locked down my privacy to only friends. I even went through and took out people I don’t know too well. I have refrained from posting political views.

This blog is still open to the public. I write anything I want without filter. I can be truly be myself through words, not photos of my kids. This blog I will keep, but I can shut off Facebook any time I feel like I have enough of it. The rest of the social media networks, I am pretty much done with.

Mary Norris explains the classic grammar mixup of who vs. whom:

My test for the correct use of “who” or “whom” in a relative clause—“who I know will use it judiciously”—is to recast the clause as a complete sentence, assigning a temporary personal pronoun to the relative pronoun “who/whom.” “I know she will use it”? Or “I know her will use it”? No native speaker of English who has outgrown baby talk would say “her will use it.” The correct choice is clearly “she”: “I know she will use it judiciously.” If the pronoun that fits is in the nominative case, acting as the subject (“I,” “you,” “he,” “she,” “it,” “we,” “you,” “they”), then the relative pronoun should also be in the nominative case: “who I know will use it judiciously.” Yay! I got it right.

Suppose I had written that I turned over the comma shaker to a colleague who I have known for years. Recast the relative clause as a complete sentence with a personal pronoun: “I have known she for years”? Or “I have known her for years”? This time the correct choice is “her,” which is in the objective case (“me,” “you,” “him,” “her,” “us,” “you,” “them”); therefore the relative pronoun should be in the objective case (“whom”). I should have written, “I turned over the comma shaker to a colleague whom I have known for years.” Boo! I got it wrong.

Andrea Long Chu writes in The New York Times:

Next Thursday, I will get a vagina. The procedure will last around six hours, and I will be in recovery for at least three months. Until the day I die, my body will regard the vagina as a wound; as a result, it will require regular, painful attention to maintain. This is what I want, but there is no guarantee it will make me happier. In fact, I don’t expect it to. That shouldn’t disqualify me from getting it.

In his latest special for Netflix, Trevor talks about snake, tacos, Trump, and racism. His jokes seem a bit exaggerated. I am not quite feeling him. It’s enjoyable but not outstanding.

Season four of the drug drama lays out the extreme corruption of the Mexico government. Félix Gallardo (played by the charismatic Diego Luna) built his trafficking empire by funding the entire government. He got rich and comfortable on smuggling weed, but got greedy and expanded into cocaine. And that’s when it all came crashing down. The story is good the cast is fine, but not stellar. Teresa Ruiz is so damn hot though. This season isn’t quite as suspensful as the previous one—I miss Alberto Ammann the most. It looks like more seasons in the Mexico to come though.

Mailhot’s dark, riveting memoir reveals deep personal stories include domestic violence, sexual abuse, motherhood, and mental illness. Her prose is poetic and poignant. Here’s an example:

My mind is overwhelmed with breakfast alone. I don’t eat for days so you can run your hands over my ribcage. You told me that you always want to eat ribs afterward. I don’t eat for days because I can’t afford it. The meal I order after being fucked, by you, or anyone, is sont earned. Men objectify me, to such a degree that they forget I eat. You feed your dog more kindly than you feed me. That’s men.

That is some fucked up shit, but I appreciate the honesty. It’s a concise, eye-opening read. Definitely a recommendation.