Lawrence & 阿諾

I'm a bit obsessed with the idea of duality. Not only do I find the concept very intriguing, but it has always played a large role in my life. Let me explain.

I've always seen myself with two personalities: one that speaks Cantonese, and one that speaks English. Whilst I base these two characters on the language they speak, there are inherent differences that stem from more than just how they communicate.

You see, ethnically, I'm from Hong Kong. But I was born in England. But I grew up in Hong Kong. But then studied at boarding school and university in England. But then Hong Kong had always been my home during my studies. But then now I've got my own place and work in England. But then my parents and brother still live in Hong Kong. What all this back and forth has meant is that I feel not only like an expat, but like a double expat - neither here nor there. I feel foreign in both countries: in England, my ethnicity quite obviously did not originate here, but in Hong Kong, I possess an inherently 'international' quality, derived from the Hong Kong international and overseas schools I studied at.

I'm bilingual; I was brought up learning English and Cantonese simultaneously. Whilst I write more fluently in English, I speak more naturally in Cantonese. And yet somehow, I still feel like I lack in my colloquialisms in both languages - a sign that I've never really been in full command of either. When I meet new people, it's easier for me to speak English. But with my closest friends and family, I fall into Cantonese. But in my most intimate and emotional moments (and when I'm drunk), I express myself in English. Strangely, I can comfortably say "I love you" (to the right person), but find it difficult to utter "我愛妳" (the equivalent). So which language do I feel most natural with? Neither. Oh, and did I mention? I have odd accents in both: I have a non-native Cantonese accent, and my English accent is a weird combination of a British accent (from boarding school) and an American accent (from all the US TV I watched growing up). Double whammy.

Now that I've created this image,
I hate it. Both halves.

So what is the result of all this? I feel like I have two personalities. It's a bit difficult to pinpoint exactly where one side of me ends and the other begins, but regardless, I do feel the disparity. I would say that the English side of me is more approachable, more comical and more of a crowd pleaser. On the other hand, my Cantonese side is a lot more relaxed, more uninhibited, and more of a coversationalist. I wouldn't say that either side of me is 'fake' or a façade I hide beneath; I am very much being myself in both capacities. I quite easily and frequently slip in and out of both. You'll often catch me switching between the two languages in the same conversation - or worst yet, the same sentence (another sign I've never fully grasped full expression in just one).

However, this leaves me in a rather frustrating predicament: I'm not either, but I'm also not both. As confusing as that is, I mean that I'm not solely the English or Cantonese version of me, yet I don't feel like I'm fully both. Essentially, "兩頭唔到岸" or "two ends not reaching shore", which is a Cantonese phrase that means to try two things but not succeed on either fronts, like a boat arriving perpendicularly to the shore and neither ends of the boat actually landing ashore. Whenever I am speaking one language, I feel like there is a part of me that is being set aside. Wherever I may be, I feel alien and out of place; I've never really been able to fit in.

Luckily, I've come to meet other bilingual people. Overseas students from Hong Kong have made for great companions that understand both my tongues and cultural surroundings - not to mention my family, of course. The important part, however, is not that they understand the language I speak, but rather the personality they portray. These are the people that have come to accept both my halves.

I had feared that my twofold composition would mean that only this small, distinct sliver of people would be able to truly understand me. Instead, I should actually be hoping that this duality is what allows me to connect to more people. I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to live in different countries and to meet such a variety of people. I should be focusing more on how I can represent each of my halves in the other language, and becoming more 'whole' whatever I may be speaking. Rather than constantly feeling half-baked, this dichotomy is what makes me, 'me'. Anyone that has come to know me has learnt this too, and for that, I'm very grateful.

Now to translate this entire blog post into Chinese...

Only At A Pentatonix Concert

A few months back, I went to a concert by Pentatonix in London. For those that don't know them, they are a 5-person a cappella group, which means they make music with just their vocals - no instruments whatsoever. They earned their uprising stardom through the millions of views on their YouTube videos and winning the TV a cappella competition, The Sing Off. If you haven't heard them, go learn you some right now.

From that premise alone, you can tell it was a bit of a musical nerd fest. I don't really attend concerts very much, mostly because I'm too socially awkward to know what to do at one. Do I dance? Do I stand still? Do I put my hands in the air and wave 'em around like I just don't care? But this concert I just had to check out. And let me tell you: it was mind-blowing. Their performance was absolutely adrenaline-pumping and their live vocal standard was just astoundingly impressive. But you can read about that everywhere; that's not what this blog post is about.

You see, a Pentatonix concert isn't like any other - even by a cappella event standards. Here's why:

Only at a Pentatonix concert will you find:

1. ... People singing accurate, part-specific renditions of the group's songs whilst waiting in queue. And I mean accurate - to the key and tempo.
2. ... The most synchronised audience participation. Those finger clicks and claps were precisely on the beat - all 300 of them.
3. ... That when a performer shouts "Any choir nerds in the house tonight!?", he gets a harmoniously loud response.
4. ... That the performers can sing dubstep.
5. ... That the phrase "drop the bass" is unexpectedly even more epic than usual.
6. ... The special performance involves a cello - and people go crazy for it.
7. ... The audience member serenade involves Marvin Gayes' Let's Get It On and a fake trumpet.
8. ... The performing group splitting the entire audience into three, and getting them to sing the individual parts to the song. And the audience gets it pitch perfect.
9. ... A performer asking someone to "give me an A", and an audience member produces a harmonica to give them that A.
10. ... An audience that is so passionate and in admiration of the group's musicality. 

I guess it goes to show that Pentatonix fans are really a breed of their own. An awesome breed, of course. I had a blast - Pentatonix were mindblowing, and the crowd was exhilarating. It turned out to be a lot more fun than I expected, and a notch I'm proud to have under my concert-attending belt.

Also, it gave me the chance to find out the answer: it was c) Put your hands in the air and wave them around like you just don't care.