Maybe it IS the cold weather. I finally got sick, coughing with mucus (Mucus, a nice word that sounds almost delicious). I thought I was going to hang on for a day or two, but I gave up and went to pharmacy to get some OTC medicine. I am completely functional otherwise, but coughing makes my throat ache and feels bad. I should go to bed early today.
But perfect, since I lost interest in doing other things, I finally sit down yesterday and today and revised the paper I am writing with my adviser. Two hours ago, it was done on my part and I am kicking the paper to his corner. I think that my new tables are going to address most of the R&R comments, but I am not sure how my adviser thinks yet. You know, being a freelance academic writer is more fun than being a professor, and I wouldn't mind writing papers under no pressure of going for tenure.
I also lost some money in stock market today. It is paper loss though, and I hope it is going to recover. I have also built a DCF model on a stock I am interested in investing (My first real DCF model!). My model indicates that, after today's drop, it is a good time to buy. No cash in hand yet, but I will wait and see.
Two hours later.....
Just sent out the email to my adviser, feeling like a victory lap. Also, just took a shower, and felt much better. The throat was less clogged now, thank to Robitussin. Still a little light-headed. I was rather drowsy down, probably a side effect of Robitussin. I am going to put on the second half of Chinese version of Infernal Affairs (I finished the first half in China three weeks ago). I think this DVD requires no brain to watch, so perfect.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
A long road home: the book
I have been watching ABC World New podcast for at least a year. This is one foreign correspondent, Martha Raddatz, who never failed to impress me. She was very articulate and level-headed. But most important, I liked her because I could sense she was a kind person, and I do not know how I got this impression. She liked to use "You bet" when Charlie Gibson said, "Thanks, Martha." And I thought that was smart too.
Anyway, one day I listened to Newshour podcast (another of my favorite) while I was biking to a bike shop, Martha was reading excerpts from her new book. It was a book about war and family, and I was instantaneously hooked by the humanities shining through the pages, well, ipod. I sought for the book, but the hardcover was sold out. So I had to wait until last week and got a paperback version.
There is no surprise that I would like this book. If you know me, you probably know my favorite movies, such as Forrest Gump, Cider House Rules, Cinema Paradise, etc, that put the main characters against a historical backdrop. The storytelling has to be good as if I know the people in the movie for a long time. If it is a good guy, I need to know the weaknesses and mistakes; if it is a bad guy, I need to track down the family background to understand the way he/she is. Anyway, that is the kind of movie I like, and it applies to books as well.
Martha's book really brought me to the battleground of April 4, 2004, and the army post 8000 miles away. I see heroic acts, strong families, gruesome battles, and I also sense the battlefield mistakes, flawed policies, battle dilemmas and troubled soldiers and family members. Through its superb story telling, I think I have a close encounter with war and its aftermath, all thanks for Martha.
I have not read through the whole books yet. I finished the first 100 pages or so, and some soldiers began to die. I knew there would be eight deaths in total, and reading the book linearly would unveil one death after the other. So I decided to spoil the ending, skipping to the final chapters so that I would know who died and who lived, so that I did not need to invest much emotional attachment to the soldiers about to die when I read through the battle sequence in the next several days.
This is a three-day weekend. Sometimes I got really bored and I read the book out loud. Reading out loud was quite different from silent reading, because it involved for senses so the scenes feels more real. I was especially touched by the end, when death messages were delivered, families shocked, and dead soldiers remembered. That is the book at its best. When I read it out loud, I felt touched and overwhelmed, and my voice sometimes got choked a little, and I am very proud of it.
Anyway, one day I listened to Newshour podcast (another of my favorite) while I was biking to a bike shop, Martha was reading excerpts from her new book. It was a book about war and family, and I was instantaneously hooked by the humanities shining through the pages, well, ipod. I sought for the book, but the hardcover was sold out. So I had to wait until last week and got a paperback version.
There is no surprise that I would like this book. If you know me, you probably know my favorite movies, such as Forrest Gump, Cider House Rules, Cinema Paradise, etc, that put the main characters against a historical backdrop. The storytelling has to be good as if I know the people in the movie for a long time. If it is a good guy, I need to know the weaknesses and mistakes; if it is a bad guy, I need to track down the family background to understand the way he/she is. Anyway, that is the kind of movie I like, and it applies to books as well.
Martha's book really brought me to the battleground of April 4, 2004, and the army post 8000 miles away. I see heroic acts, strong families, gruesome battles, and I also sense the battlefield mistakes, flawed policies, battle dilemmas and troubled soldiers and family members. Through its superb story telling, I think I have a close encounter with war and its aftermath, all thanks for Martha.
I have not read through the whole books yet. I finished the first 100 pages or so, and some soldiers began to die. I knew there would be eight deaths in total, and reading the book linearly would unveil one death after the other. So I decided to spoil the ending, skipping to the final chapters so that I would know who died and who lived, so that I did not need to invest much emotional attachment to the soldiers about to die when I read through the battle sequence in the next several days.
This is a three-day weekend. Sometimes I got really bored and I read the book out loud. Reading out loud was quite different from silent reading, because it involved for senses so the scenes feels more real. I was especially touched by the end, when death messages were delivered, families shocked, and dead soldiers remembered. That is the book at its best. When I read it out loud, I felt touched and overwhelmed, and my voice sometimes got choked a little, and I am very proud of it.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
A trip to Salem and Portsmouth
It was cool that Amsol visited me last week. He had this workshop in MIT on complex system. I think he hated it, but hey, we got a chance to hang out for a week, and the weather is awesome by Boston-winter standard.
I got a playstation II as the default entertainment for the week. I got a shooting game and thought I would like it, but actually he hated it because it made me dizzy. Amsol seemed enjoying it and was smart enough to figure out small tricks (I was frustrated to death to find the "stone bridge," but he figured it out pretty fast). One game both of us enjoyed is NFL 2008. Both of us were not very good, but we liked to take risks to have 4th down throw, on-site kicks, or two-point conversion (If you do not know these terms, it is alright. I did not either before playing the game). This really adds color to our plays, as we finished one thriller 42-41 in the last second (I lost for being greed to take 2-point).
We had a nasty debate one night about Myer-Biggs types. Amsol was from a race/ethnicity study background, and was repulsed by the categorization. How can you put people neatly into 16 categories?! What about self-fulfilling prophesy?! Has consulting brainwashed you?! In retrospect, I should have conceded a little bit. However, in another retrospect, I enjoyed the debate, and my only complain is that it last a bit too long.
Amsol left from Portsmouth, so we had a rental car one day before and stayed in Portsmouth for a night. On the way there, I stopped by Salem and checked out the famous witch-hunting history. I hated the witch stuff, because the town of Salem was capitalizing the tragedy. It was all about cheap merchandises made in China, little about a reflection about the past shame. The highlight of the day was in an Origami exhibition. I followed the instruction and folded a bird with one-dollar bill. I put it in the museum, hoping some kids will pick it up and shout, "Look mom, I found a dollar bird!" We also saw a lady with explosive breasts that tried to peek out from her low dress, and how can we miss it? Amsol got a picture of it, with my camera.
We spent the night in Portsmouth. I later knew that Hillary Clinton's tear moment was in a diner in this town. That probably saved her NH primary. We tried to find a lobster place. We walked over a bridge and found ourselves in Maine. This reminded me the lines from one of my favorite movie, Cider House Rules, "Good night, you Princes of Maine, you Kings of New England!" Maine, I am here to eat your lobster! We found a perfect place. Each of us got a two-lobster meal. This was Amsol's first time eating lobster, and I was honor to be the witness. To be honest, lobster is very tough, and I had a hard time chewing the second, and swore that I would never eat two lobsters for one meal in the future.
I felt good by visiting two states in one day. Amsol told me that there is a place in the upper-right conner of Arizona where you can step on four states at the same time. I should go there some day.
I got a playstation II as the default entertainment for the week. I got a shooting game and thought I would like it, but actually he hated it because it made me dizzy. Amsol seemed enjoying it and was smart enough to figure out small tricks (I was frustrated to death to find the "stone bridge," but he figured it out pretty fast). One game both of us enjoyed is NFL 2008. Both of us were not very good, but we liked to take risks to have 4th down throw, on-site kicks, or two-point conversion (If you do not know these terms, it is alright. I did not either before playing the game). This really adds color to our plays, as we finished one thriller 42-41 in the last second (I lost for being greed to take 2-point).
We had a nasty debate one night about Myer-Biggs types. Amsol was from a race/ethnicity study background, and was repulsed by the categorization. How can you put people neatly into 16 categories?! What about self-fulfilling prophesy?! Has consulting brainwashed you?! In retrospect, I should have conceded a little bit. However, in another retrospect, I enjoyed the debate, and my only complain is that it last a bit too long.
Amsol left from Portsmouth, so we had a rental car one day before and stayed in Portsmouth for a night. On the way there, I stopped by Salem and checked out the famous witch-hunting history. I hated the witch stuff, because the town of Salem was capitalizing the tragedy. It was all about cheap merchandises made in China, little about a reflection about the past shame. The highlight of the day was in an Origami exhibition. I followed the instruction and folded a bird with one-dollar bill. I put it in the museum, hoping some kids will pick it up and shout, "Look mom, I found a dollar bird!" We also saw a lady with explosive breasts that tried to peek out from her low dress, and how can we miss it? Amsol got a picture of it, with my camera.
We spent the night in Portsmouth. I later knew that Hillary Clinton's tear moment was in a diner in this town. That probably saved her NH primary. We tried to find a lobster place. We walked over a bridge and found ourselves in Maine. This reminded me the lines from one of my favorite movie, Cider House Rules, "Good night, you Princes of Maine, you Kings of New England!" Maine, I am here to eat your lobster! We found a perfect place. Each of us got a two-lobster meal. This was Amsol's first time eating lobster, and I was honor to be the witness. To be honest, lobster is very tough, and I had a hard time chewing the second, and swore that I would never eat two lobsters for one meal in the future.
I felt good by visiting two states in one day. Amsol told me that there is a place in the upper-right conner of Arizona where you can step on four states at the same time. I should go there some day.
A blog from home
I wrote the following blog while I was at home in China:
It is always like that. Every time I come back to China, I have strange feelings, the feelings that have not blessed me for a long time. But all of a suddenly, I walked on the sidewalk, memory of a high school day would emerged, appearing more real than the current life I am living. I walk on the street, seeing the people around me, gray faces with rough skins on young persons like me. That could be me, I thought, that could be me.
That is the weirdest part. When I look at the people around me and my life behind me, I could no longer figure out how I get to the life I am in today. It is just so impossible that took myself by surprise, and I feel it very strongly when I am back. So many things to write about, not only about facts I see on the road, but about the feelings that swell my heart like a river run through a delta. With all the soil subsidies to the bottom, I hope I can still look at the water and see my reflection and tell myself, "I am still the person my folks have been knowing for a long time, with good heart and humble upbringing, patient and kind."
But who knows, every time I am back, it feels different, a difference that I cannot exactly describe with words, no matter spoken or written. Tomorrow I will meet a lot of high school friends, and I bet it will be very strange indeed. Sometimes you have to struggle to believe, with life so distant apart, is it still fair to call us friends, a perfect cover-up for a relationship that will go nowhere. Sigh, I do not know why I tend to be very sad when I am back. I think I am born to be pessimistic, but I have trained myself to be cheerful as a survival strategy. But when I am back, my guard is so low that it just gets the best of me.
I went to the nursing center to see my grandma today. She is very ill, but I am still happy to see her alive. I thought last time was indeed the last time, but I am lucky to see her one more time. She has been in the bed for over a year. When I walked to her bed, she could barely open her eyes. When she saw me, her eyes lit up with surprise, as if she were young all over again. The energy would not last long. She returned to her normal status and can barely think of something to talk about with me. I put my hand near her face, something that I always liked to do when I was a kid. She was just resting, and I was fighting away tears. I sit for about 20 minutes, asking stupid questions like, "how do you feel?" and "how is your life here" here and there, but mostly we were just silent. Her brain is all messed up, so she does not have very coherent thoughts. Throughout, she asked me one question, "do you come back one-person or two-person?" That made me want to cry… In the end, I stood up, and told her that I would be back the next day. I bent myself and kissed her on the cheek and then left.
When you grow older, life has become much more fragile. Every time I come back, I have heard of stories of people passing away due to various natural diseases or unnatural causes. Just think of 10 years ago, life is very hopeful for most of my classmates, now everyone has a very narrow goal to pursue, including myself, as if life is closing the doors it has opened when we were all students.
It is always like that. Every time I come back to China, I have strange feelings, the feelings that have not blessed me for a long time. But all of a suddenly, I walked on the sidewalk, memory of a high school day would emerged, appearing more real than the current life I am living. I walk on the street, seeing the people around me, gray faces with rough skins on young persons like me. That could be me, I thought, that could be me.
That is the weirdest part. When I look at the people around me and my life behind me, I could no longer figure out how I get to the life I am in today. It is just so impossible that took myself by surprise, and I feel it very strongly when I am back. So many things to write about, not only about facts I see on the road, but about the feelings that swell my heart like a river run through a delta. With all the soil subsidies to the bottom, I hope I can still look at the water and see my reflection and tell myself, "I am still the person my folks have been knowing for a long time, with good heart and humble upbringing, patient and kind."
But who knows, every time I am back, it feels different, a difference that I cannot exactly describe with words, no matter spoken or written. Tomorrow I will meet a lot of high school friends, and I bet it will be very strange indeed. Sometimes you have to struggle to believe, with life so distant apart, is it still fair to call us friends, a perfect cover-up for a relationship that will go nowhere. Sigh, I do not know why I tend to be very sad when I am back. I think I am born to be pessimistic, but I have trained myself to be cheerful as a survival strategy. But when I am back, my guard is so low that it just gets the best of me.
I went to the nursing center to see my grandma today. She is very ill, but I am still happy to see her alive. I thought last time was indeed the last time, but I am lucky to see her one more time. She has been in the bed for over a year. When I walked to her bed, she could barely open her eyes. When she saw me, her eyes lit up with surprise, as if she were young all over again. The energy would not last long. She returned to her normal status and can barely think of something to talk about with me. I put my hand near her face, something that I always liked to do when I was a kid. She was just resting, and I was fighting away tears. I sit for about 20 minutes, asking stupid questions like, "how do you feel?" and "how is your life here" here and there, but mostly we were just silent. Her brain is all messed up, so she does not have very coherent thoughts. Throughout, she asked me one question, "do you come back one-person or two-person?" That made me want to cry… In the end, I stood up, and told her that I would be back the next day. I bent myself and kissed her on the cheek and then left.
When you grow older, life has become much more fragile. Every time I come back, I have heard of stories of people passing away due to various natural diseases or unnatural causes. Just think of 10 years ago, life is very hopeful for most of my classmates, now everyone has a very narrow goal to pursue, including myself, as if life is closing the doors it has opened when we were all students.
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