Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Admissions  §

© 2011 Aron Hsiao

I saw a picture of New York and froze in my tracks.

I really, really, really miss NYC.

Miss.

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It takes a certain amount of courage right now to admit that to myself or anyone else, given that I will not be back anytime soon, and will likely never call NYC home again. That particular phase in my life is over.

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It has been a hard move.

Yes, there are parts of me have still been “moving” even a month after arriving. There are parts of me that are “moving” still, and there likely will be for months to come.

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The biggest difficulty, being back in Utah, has to do with feeling motivated or ambitious. There is, quite simply, no energy or ambition here anywhere. If you want it, you have to generate it out of whole cloth; you can’t absorb it from the atmosphere, and as you display either of these in public, you will be disliked.

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We finally have (unofficially) health insurance after a month spent on the phone at least twice, and sometimes ten times, a day, with dozens of faxes, letters, and forms to fill out, hours of computer time and research, and multiple companies involved.

All of this for three healthy individuals with no pre-existing conditions that had been continuously covered until the moment we arrived in Utah from NYC and that were willing (and even desperate) to pay out-of-pocket on a monthly basis for coverage.

If it is damned near impossible and this incredibly labor- and time-intensive for us to get covered, how impossible must it be for anyone that is older, hasn’t had coverage for a while, has a medical condition of some kind, etc.?

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The unofficial coverage is just in time; our daughter has been ill this week and the last few nights she became very ill, with a fever in excess of 105 degrees. We were finally able to take her to the pediatrician, who seems nice, even if he has the distinctly Utahn habit of talking past children directly to their parents, since children clearly aren’t there yet.

Predictably, given the massively dominant faith in the area, they will start talking to her, instead of through her, around eight years of age. Until then, she will have to live without the incredible social connectedness and gregarious social life that she had in New York.

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I want to find my ambition once again. I left Utah in the first place because I felt stagnant here, as though I Would Never Amount to Anything if I stayed. I begin to feel that way again, but I have to fight it.

There must be opportunity here.

All I have to do is fight.

Fight the local culture.

Fight the local religion.

Fight the anesthesia that hangs in the air.

Fight the conventional wisdom and incredible conservatism that is the hallmark of the place.

I have to connect with outsiders and reconnect with the outsider that I have become. I must be a foreigner in this land if I am ever to feel at home here; to the extent that I allow myself to feel like “the boy from Utah that is home again,” I Will Never Amount to Anything.

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Now if only I can help those around me to understand this and be supportive of it, things may yet be well.

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But I must admit to myself that tonight, at least, I desperately miss NYC.

Miss.