George youssef                mr. Tim Horton loyal customer signing in as Asian Sentiment Defector English 1 Assignment Rough Draft Narrative              English Class                      I was sitting at Tim Hortons sipping coffee at thanksgiving, many ideas made their way to my realm waiting to be adopted. Sounds a bit creepy. That’s alright, you see, this thanksgiving was kind of special as it came turkey-free, no comedy here when i say that i just had my teeth fixed from a previous root canal and i had to be cautious. My heart goes out for a banana. Speaking of which i just remembered. It was during the summer of 2008, by that time i was a regular guy, no fancy stuff, just the real article … claiming that to bare your real self is much better than to put masks or to photo ID yourself just like the Universal Cop’s poster of the famous Hollywood movie. What was a friend of a friend at the time made a passing remark.”You’re a banana! Like how on [FOX’s animated comedy] ‘Family Guy” they call the guy a banana, yellow on the outside and white on the inside.” At the time this deeply offended me. Since then I’ve thought on it and it seems to suit me more and more. I even make the joke about myself to other people now. The guy I am dating compared it to a Twinkie. I sure do like Twinkies more than I like banana. Does this mean assimilation has worked too well?? Or perhaps the abandonment and rejection i was confronted with as a child with the mentality of a child feeling feeling alone and lost in trying to understand such grown up concepts decided the only way to boil it down was to reject everything which had rejected me before i even knew what i was. By turning my back on a culture, society, and country who discarded me easily and readily. Treated like an export, non-refundable merchandise. I wanted so desperately to cling to the heritage, to learn, and be what i was supposed to be. Approval and acceptance according to Maslow and his Hierarchy of needs. The conflict of being submissive, docile, and meek was disagreeable to my strong-will, curious, adventurous nature. I then tried to be like all the other middle class, ALL-American, children i went to school with. That wasn’t working for me. This is most apparent in the photos showing me in preppy Limited TOO Clothes, joining band and attending Awanas every week with my preppy and athletic friends. I gave that up around seventh and eighth grade. Well, honestly, I liked percussion, but gave it up because i knew it would alleviate some financial strain for my parents, plus they had schedules and I wasn’t sure how the logistics would work to make a full commitment to band. Playing at football games was pretty pathetic as far as percussion went. I didn’t have the coordination or the breathing control to take up any of the other instruments. Sounds so much like George Youssef, i am afraid . I finally figured out i was not suited for either ‘team.’ Where did that leave me? Where does it leave me, now ? Where does it lead me? God , i hate these wagons of female questions. Did she had to say it like that. May be i will mention it to her if and when we meet. I feel like buzzing in in her way invading her narrative and mentioning what i once knew as my Digest told me in the bak that the black president of the united states of America, mr. Barack Hussein Obama will be inclined to have a “ mandarin mistress ”, a “Cantonese playgirl”, if and when he chooses to fool around, despite the strong Abs of mrs. Michelle Obama the first lady and the mother of his two girls. This asian beauty lady dragon, flame-coloured babe skin would be a defector who ran away from the FBI as an illegal alien but came later to be that FBI employee . Go figure… Any way back to my narration papers , i do not want this coffee of mine to end before i finish writing. There is nothing worse than a second cup of dark roast coffee just because your lazy pen couldn’t end its ride on time. So, I believe i am doing the right thing when i deliver my pen to the lovely FBI agent to complete and comment of her narrative as she makes her way out of her California trendy house in her velvet green car. God saves the Chat software i jargoned. She agreed to go on for few minutes more, the chest-nut haired beauty said, ‘Where does it lead me’ Better yet, why do I continue to try to make the team when i know i won’t make the cut? Life is a journey my mandarin-speaking guest said. One’s identity isn’t carved out of marble. It is ever changing . Water takes on many forms ranging from tears, It is a base for many soluble and solvents, it can be held or crushed as ice, it can move as fog, clouds or rain with the help of gravity and shift of atmospheric currents. It can rust metal, cleanse most objects . One can add to it, or it can stand alone. I believe i was contemplating many many years ago the site and the view of a water column standing alone and leaning itself on a cane, can you imagine how cute this caricature image can be. I concurred. ‘Fire instigates sparks, flames. Fire can move, travel. Yet , it cannot be directly held. The mention of Earthly elements inevitably brings me to the topic of astrology . Both ‘Chinese’ and ‘Western’ flavours. I am not going to claim to know every specific or applicable subsect or laws of child abandonment, family size , growth, governing patriachial societies, or the pariah treatment of any whom didn’t abide appropriately. Feel free to correct or enlighten me. This is how i interpret the society i was born to and dismissed from. Ironically, the last statement could be precisely my point. One would have a better chance of estimating how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie poop and winning the price is right [ Popular game show from the 1970’s and 1980’s ] Vs. Accurately determining the day and year I was born. Because currently there is no full proof way to verify this other than by assessing physical development and the onset of developmental milestones. So while i may truely be a rooster , scorpio rooster according to Chinese astrology. I could just as likely be any of the other combinations, Or not be a rooster or scorpio or metal element. I am simply a by-product. A hot potato. A hyphen. I have graduated from hot potato to bananas and Twinkies. I so replied to my mandarin gorgeous friend by saying ‘ you were never a hyphen, may be a hot potato, i don’t know about that, but again, not a pumpkin and you will never ever be a by-product .‘ Besides you have your way with narration more than i do. ‘ Gotta be worth something ‘ i murmured. You remind me of the little baby you was climbing over the PAK like on Christmas near the chimney of a cold and frosty December night when we were both innocent and amusingly curious, everything was to our amazement and if it didn’t fit this Tag it was immediately discarded as a sinner who came at the wrong time to the wrong toddler , and in most cases dismissed from our presence to ‘get it right this time around and then come back to us”… Remember George Youssef how we used to impersonate objects and incidents, may be we were trying to put a human face on planet earth like a good toddler should do. Or how we used to label items as we label people and love them and care for them even more and how we coloured every thing in pink and blue not in black and white like all the “ Others” . hmmm , i was trying to reply to her. To be continued … From my blog @ about the bak and the Islamic bak magic