Happy Mother's Day, mom

For the four time in five years, I'm not around to celebrate Mother's Day with my mom. Of course, I usually say that I don't need a special day to shower my mom with affection or gratitude when I do that everyday with understated grace and subtlety.


But hey, it's Mother's Day, and I will look bad if I don't acknowledge the existence of such a day. Two of my short films, CHICKEN RICE MYSTERY and LOVE SUICIDES, are about flawed mothers and their relationships with their children, flawed because their plots are usually about these mothers resorting to deception or abusive overprotective-ness that are unintentionally harmful towards the child protagonists. A psychoanalysis attempted upon me, if anyone would really bother, after viewing these two films would have someone immediately assuming that I have some major mommy issues, or an antagonistic relationship with my mother which inspires me to make those films.

That is inaccurate.

So, now that I am in Tokyo, and my sister had gone off to Perth, my mom was smart enough to know that hanging about at home to celebrate Mother's Day would be boring.

That's why she went to Shaolin Temple instead.

Yes, I'm not kidding.

THIS Shaolin Temple.



Or at least, that's where she was the last time I called her a few days ago to inform her the great news of LOVE SUICIDES getting selected for competition at an Italian film festival and also to whine about my latest bout of girl problems.

But then, at this very moment, my dad is on a midnight flight to Shanghai for a rendezvous with my mom, so maybe my mom is in Shanghai.

Not sure, but I hope they both have fun.

Happy Mother's Day, mom.