I want to dedicate this blog to a great history professor: David Kennedy. I sit through his class on and off this quarter: American History in 20th Century. Today is his last lecture. I noticed there were a lot of old people in the back of the classroom. They later turned out to be professors from history department. In the end of the lecture, the chair of history department went forward and announced that we were David's last group of students because he is retiring. I am so honored.
For me, his lectures are the best lectures Stanford has ever offered me. He embodied my ideal of an intellectual: smart, reserved, confident, and with excellent abilities of communicating ideas with lay people. For a while, I thought he might descent from the famous Kennedy family. After a couple of googling, that might not be true. But whatever, thanks for a great class, David.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Damn. There is nothing I can do about it!
Ok, I did not expect that i will blog that soon, but I have to. Here is the reason.
Remember that girl that started all my troubles two quarters ago? I met her today in the library. I took a seat, and found some papers about China's politics sitting next to me. It turned out to be her seat an hour later. She was surprised too. Then She found an excuse to move her seat to somewhere else.
Damn, it really pissed me off. I put up my best smily face when I talked to her, and I do not think the previous episode still matter even slightly for me. But in her mind, I am still the old sketchy grad student. Most frustrating is that there is nothing I can do about it! I admit that I had my mistakes dealing with the whole thing before. That's the price I am paying for them right now. Sigh......
Remember that girl that started all my troubles two quarters ago? I met her today in the library. I took a seat, and found some papers about China's politics sitting next to me. It turned out to be her seat an hour later. She was surprised too. Then She found an excuse to move her seat to somewhere else.
Damn, it really pissed me off. I put up my best smily face when I talked to her, and I do not think the previous episode still matter even slightly for me. But in her mind, I am still the old sketchy grad student. Most frustrating is that there is nothing I can do about it! I admit that I had my mistakes dealing with the whole thing before. That's the price I am paying for them right now. Sigh......
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Blog
I have to admit that I haven't done much work since the defense. But, hey, maybe I deserve the break. I feel quite busy every day, but I also feel I am doing a lot of random things without a clear direction. If life is supposed to be built up towards a goal with every day as a building brick, I do not know what I am after.
Anyway, happy birthday to my friend who I know is reading my blog. Originally I thought of mailing a surprise gift (a gift not stolen from Universal Studio shop, if you know what I mean), but then I found I lost your address. An email of "happy birthday" struck me as too cheap. You know I am sincere in blogs.
I just attended a wedding this afternoon. I am so happy for the groom, a nice guy indeed. The best moment is when he hug his parents, who flew in from China two weeks ago. He cried, and I found my eyes were wet too. I was thinking, "What was the last time I hug my parents, or my grandma? Will I cry the next time I hug them?" They are getting old so fast, and I am living so far away. I do not really know how many hugs have left. I do not even know what's the next time I am going to visit them.
There is a lot of bullshits in church. First, the things pastor said are condescending (I do not even want to mention his sexist comments). Why everyone should live the life under god's instruction? That's the irony of America. The strange bedfellow of individualism and religiousness. The improbable combination of rebelling against authority and obeying an imaginary god. Second, I read half of the first page of bible today. It is well written and deserve to be on new york times best-seller list based on its literary quality. But, man, the content is such stupid nonsense!
But I have to say I like other aspects of church. The best part of church is singing with other people. The second best is its space and architecture. The third best? Well, hard to come up with another one. I guess church does not impress me too much after all.
Anyway, happy birthday to my friend who I know is reading my blog. Originally I thought of mailing a surprise gift (a gift not stolen from Universal Studio shop, if you know what I mean), but then I found I lost your address. An email of "happy birthday" struck me as too cheap. You know I am sincere in blogs.
I just attended a wedding this afternoon. I am so happy for the groom, a nice guy indeed. The best moment is when he hug his parents, who flew in from China two weeks ago. He cried, and I found my eyes were wet too. I was thinking, "What was the last time I hug my parents, or my grandma? Will I cry the next time I hug them?" They are getting old so fast, and I am living so far away. I do not really know how many hugs have left. I do not even know what's the next time I am going to visit them.
There is a lot of bullshits in church. First, the things pastor said are condescending (I do not even want to mention his sexist comments). Why everyone should live the life under god's instruction? That's the irony of America. The strange bedfellow of individualism and religiousness. The improbable combination of rebelling against authority and obeying an imaginary god. Second, I read half of the first page of bible today. It is well written and deserve to be on new york times best-seller list based on its literary quality. But, man, the content is such stupid nonsense!
But I have to say I like other aspects of church. The best part of church is singing with other people. The second best is its space and architecture. The third best? Well, hard to come up with another one. I guess church does not impress me too much after all.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Spring Migration!
All of a sudden, the performance is finished. My brain is blank right now, and I do not know what I am supposed to feel. I know so many amazing people through dancing, although none of them would make the list of my 26 blogged friends. I just know them too little. While I was stretching today, I asked Sophie, "Hey, Sophie, I have a question for you. Why are you so happy all the time?" It is my favorite question for now.
Excitement aside, I feel tired. I think three days of dancing really hit my limit. Now I only want to lying on the bed, letting every inch of my muscles and bones touch the surface of the mattress. My butt hurt too.
I decided to put a break on my blog. The blogs of May are all great, but they are very emotionally draining to write, especially the mother's day piece. I felt great that I finished it, but now I also know I need some time to put myself together in post-spring-migration life. Blogs wouldn't help in this. See ya!
Excitement aside, I feel tired. I think three days of dancing really hit my limit. Now I only want to lying on the bed, letting every inch of my muscles and bones touch the surface of the mattress. My butt hurt too.
I decided to put a break on my blog. The blogs of May are all great, but they are very emotionally draining to write, especially the mother's day piece. I felt great that I finished it, but now I also know I need some time to put myself together in post-spring-migration life. Blogs wouldn't help in this. See ya!
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Mother's day
Ok, I have to say I have hyped up this blog of my mom, and I am afraid that it wouldn't match the expectation any more. But I will try.
I just called home. My mom is out and my dad is in a spring trip with his colleagues. So I talked to the nanny for 1 minute and then hang up. Really, nothing to say to my mom anyway. I wouldn't even mention "Mother's Day" at all, because she just does not care.
Let's start to describe my mom. My mom is Meiying Bao (Oh, I just revealed the answer of my secret question for my banking account. If you dare, please steal my identity:-). She was a doctor in a state-owned factory before a stroke forced her into retirement. Although I am never close to my parents, I have to admit that my mom is a nice and warm person, at least before the stroke. I was very weak when I was a kid, so my mom always brought medicine from the factory for me, free of charge. One medicine made my teeth yellow. I often played with the medicine and her equipment when I got a chance. But to be honest, since I grew up with my grandma, I never got too much chance with my parents, so my memory about them was very very vague.
I think my parents were very traditional. They probably followed the crowd all the time and expected their children to do the same. They were not socially capable. When all relatives got together during festivals, I felt they were taken advantage of in various occations. My relatives were not evil, but they would laugh at my dad's booksmart and my mom's low capability of getting things done. My parents seemed getting used to it, and I do not think it really hurt them. But it is the reason why I never enjoyed the get-together of my big family. I do not know when it all started, but from very early on, I told myself, when I grow up, I want to stand up for my parents, so nobody would laugh at them for them minor flaws. Well, I guess it sows the seed for all my ambitions of upward mobility.
One story: It happened when I was about junior high school student, and my sister was high school student. We were horsing about the apartment, and we found some thick "balloons". We put a lot of water in them. They looked like rubber balls that were able to change shape freely. We threw them around, and I forgot whether we broke one or two. But we had a lot of fun playing with them, thinking they were the best balloon ever. When my parents came back, they were sorta mad, but did not say anything more. Several points: 1) these balloons were actually condoms. I realized that when I relived those old memories a couple of years ago. 2) My sister was a high school student, but she did not know that. I did not know either. You can see the sex education in my family, or in most Chinese families, sucks. 3) My parents were having sex back then. I do not think they are any more. They were in a stage of de facto seperation for quite some time, probably since my mom's unexpected stroke back in 1995. Somehow, I always had fear that they would get divorce, but amazingly they got through for so many years. I wonder whether they really thought of this option before. Maybe not, maybe yes. But on the other hand, maybe there was something I was never able to understand. For example, my mom liked to complain and was stingy, and my dad was impatient and tried to escape from the real world. Were these traits just perfect for each other? I do not know. Here is the best explanation I can come up with: they tolerate this loveless marriage, because love is never in their expectation when they got married. Years of frictions just made them to take for granted that it is the life all about, and they convinced themselves that they would have to make it through because there is no alternatives.
I would stop psycho-analyse my parents here. The least I can say is that I do not really understand them. Maybe I've never tried. But do I love them? That is a tough tough question. Obviously, I do not want to stay with them for more than 1 month. That's for sure. But do I love them? I do not know how to answer them. Let me start with a story. Back in 1995. One day, I suddenly got to know that my mom had a stroke when she was writing a prescription for a worker in the factory. She was hauled to the emergency room. I biked like crazy to home, only seeing my dad biking like crazy to the hospital, carrying all the daily necessities for my mom. I kept biking. Something choatic ran through my mind, but I cannot remember what any more. Some sort of music, I think. I then biked to the hospital, seeing my mom lying on the bed lifeless. I cried. I was so used to see my mom walking like a bull, carrying big shopping bags from the farmer market to home. Now she was just helplessly lying in the bed, calm like a baby. My dad talked to me, and I cried more, but tried to stop, tried to show my dad that I was a big boy and could handle anything. My tear just kept coming out. For the first couple of days, my mom couldn't even recognize the most familiar faces. I asked one of my good friends to read some of my favorite stories (Maybe it is only one story) and I recorded them. I believed that these stories would stimulate her brain so her intellegence would get back to normal. Of course, nobody really appreciated my effort (except my friend who recorded it). Sadly, my mom never got back to normal. I could feel that she was quite a different person completely. To say the least, her self-esteem was evaperated. She used to be so proud of being independent; but now she had to rely on all the medicine to bring down the blood pressure and other people to take care of her. I was so sorry for her.
I do not know whether the above story tells anything to answer the question of "whether I love my mom". But on the flip side, who cares about these big questions? Details of the life are much more subtle and interesting than any "yes"/"no". So please allow me to be vague on this question, even on the Mother's Day. Sorry, mom, I cannot put up with an half-assed "I love you" even on a Mother's Day. But here is some thing I can say: I remember so many things about you. I remember your awkwardness towards me: you wanted to be close to me, but since I grew up with my grandparents, you never succeeded. I remember your harsh criticism towards my sister. I remember you picked on my dad over small errors. I remember your bad cooking skills, but you tried. I remember your able body before the stroke. I remember your self-depreciation after the stroke, a strategy to make your self-esteem hurt less. I remember you still worked after retirement with your sick body, earning 6 dollars for half a day, touring different middle schools to carry out medical examinations. I remember sometimes I worried about your safety, because I know sometimes you just walked out of the apartment unannounced, making other people worrying about you. Maybe you tried to reclaim your independence, anouncing to the world that you still had an able body. You just never gave up, a real fighter. If I inherited any thing from you, I think that's it.
I guess I lost myself in all these details, and no conclusions can be drawn today. My mom is just a good person with numerous flaws, and I am not sure how I really feel about her, in the past, in the present or in the futre. But if I keep exploring the life as it comes, I will figure it out eventually. In the meanwhile, Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I know you do not care, but I just want to say that, and there is nothing you can do about it, just like the tape of stories I gave you ten years ago.
I just called home. My mom is out and my dad is in a spring trip with his colleagues. So I talked to the nanny for 1 minute and then hang up. Really, nothing to say to my mom anyway. I wouldn't even mention "Mother's Day" at all, because she just does not care.
Let's start to describe my mom. My mom is Meiying Bao (Oh, I just revealed the answer of my secret question for my banking account. If you dare, please steal my identity:-). She was a doctor in a state-owned factory before a stroke forced her into retirement. Although I am never close to my parents, I have to admit that my mom is a nice and warm person, at least before the stroke. I was very weak when I was a kid, so my mom always brought medicine from the factory for me, free of charge. One medicine made my teeth yellow. I often played with the medicine and her equipment when I got a chance. But to be honest, since I grew up with my grandma, I never got too much chance with my parents, so my memory about them was very very vague.
I think my parents were very traditional. They probably followed the crowd all the time and expected their children to do the same. They were not socially capable. When all relatives got together during festivals, I felt they were taken advantage of in various occations. My relatives were not evil, but they would laugh at my dad's booksmart and my mom's low capability of getting things done. My parents seemed getting used to it, and I do not think it really hurt them. But it is the reason why I never enjoyed the get-together of my big family. I do not know when it all started, but from very early on, I told myself, when I grow up, I want to stand up for my parents, so nobody would laugh at them for them minor flaws. Well, I guess it sows the seed for all my ambitions of upward mobility.
One story: It happened when I was about junior high school student, and my sister was high school student. We were horsing about the apartment, and we found some thick "balloons". We put a lot of water in them. They looked like rubber balls that were able to change shape freely. We threw them around, and I forgot whether we broke one or two. But we had a lot of fun playing with them, thinking they were the best balloon ever. When my parents came back, they were sorta mad, but did not say anything more. Several points: 1) these balloons were actually condoms. I realized that when I relived those old memories a couple of years ago. 2) My sister was a high school student, but she did not know that. I did not know either. You can see the sex education in my family, or in most Chinese families, sucks. 3) My parents were having sex back then. I do not think they are any more. They were in a stage of de facto seperation for quite some time, probably since my mom's unexpected stroke back in 1995. Somehow, I always had fear that they would get divorce, but amazingly they got through for so many years. I wonder whether they really thought of this option before. Maybe not, maybe yes. But on the other hand, maybe there was something I was never able to understand. For example, my mom liked to complain and was stingy, and my dad was impatient and tried to escape from the real world. Were these traits just perfect for each other? I do not know. Here is the best explanation I can come up with: they tolerate this loveless marriage, because love is never in their expectation when they got married. Years of frictions just made them to take for granted that it is the life all about, and they convinced themselves that they would have to make it through because there is no alternatives.
I would stop psycho-analyse my parents here. The least I can say is that I do not really understand them. Maybe I've never tried. But do I love them? That is a tough tough question. Obviously, I do not want to stay with them for more than 1 month. That's for sure. But do I love them? I do not know how to answer them. Let me start with a story. Back in 1995. One day, I suddenly got to know that my mom had a stroke when she was writing a prescription for a worker in the factory. She was hauled to the emergency room. I biked like crazy to home, only seeing my dad biking like crazy to the hospital, carrying all the daily necessities for my mom. I kept biking. Something choatic ran through my mind, but I cannot remember what any more. Some sort of music, I think. I then biked to the hospital, seeing my mom lying on the bed lifeless. I cried. I was so used to see my mom walking like a bull, carrying big shopping bags from the farmer market to home. Now she was just helplessly lying in the bed, calm like a baby. My dad talked to me, and I cried more, but tried to stop, tried to show my dad that I was a big boy and could handle anything. My tear just kept coming out. For the first couple of days, my mom couldn't even recognize the most familiar faces. I asked one of my good friends to read some of my favorite stories (Maybe it is only one story) and I recorded them. I believed that these stories would stimulate her brain so her intellegence would get back to normal. Of course, nobody really appreciated my effort (except my friend who recorded it). Sadly, my mom never got back to normal. I could feel that she was quite a different person completely. To say the least, her self-esteem was evaperated. She used to be so proud of being independent; but now she had to rely on all the medicine to bring down the blood pressure and other people to take care of her. I was so sorry for her.
I do not know whether the above story tells anything to answer the question of "whether I love my mom". But on the flip side, who cares about these big questions? Details of the life are much more subtle and interesting than any "yes"/"no". So please allow me to be vague on this question, even on the Mother's Day. Sorry, mom, I cannot put up with an half-assed "I love you" even on a Mother's Day. But here is some thing I can say: I remember so many things about you. I remember your awkwardness towards me: you wanted to be close to me, but since I grew up with my grandparents, you never succeeded. I remember your harsh criticism towards my sister. I remember you picked on my dad over small errors. I remember your bad cooking skills, but you tried. I remember your able body before the stroke. I remember your self-depreciation after the stroke, a strategy to make your self-esteem hurt less. I remember you still worked after retirement with your sick body, earning 6 dollars for half a day, touring different middle schools to carry out medical examinations. I remember sometimes I worried about your safety, because I know sometimes you just walked out of the apartment unannounced, making other people worrying about you. Maybe you tried to reclaim your independence, anouncing to the world that you still had an able body. You just never gave up, a real fighter. If I inherited any thing from you, I think that's it.
I guess I lost myself in all these details, and no conclusions can be drawn today. My mom is just a good person with numerous flaws, and I am not sure how I really feel about her, in the past, in the present or in the futre. But if I keep exploring the life as it comes, I will figure it out eventually. In the meanwhile, Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I know you do not care, but I just want to say that, and there is nothing you can do about it, just like the tape of stories I gave you ten years ago.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
O.K. and a friend (Limela)
O.K.....
Let me blog another friend today. First, I feel like blogging tonight. Second, I got an email from her this morning. Third, I wrote back to her tonight, feeling that is a perfect time to blog about her.
For anyone who follows my personal narratives, you have already encountered Limela in Jan 25th blog. But here is more history. She is a high school classmate of mine. We did not talk much during high school at all. As you all know by know, I was quite nerdy back then, trying hard to get ahead in exams while rarely looked at girls with straight eyes. She was quiet, smart and had an appealing personality, seemingly well-liked by those boys who were good at sports but not academics, but no scandelous rumors as far as I know.
We did not become friends until our senior year in college, when she came to Beijing for a language school. Since she knew only few people in Beijing, the nerd-back-in-school became her helper in finding a cheap apartment. My serior year was sorta crazy, since I knew I would go to the USA and tried to find multiple jobs to pay my way across the Pacific Ocean. I took two jobs and one time I went sleepless for 48 hours because the day shift and night shift went together. It was really nice to have a person from home to talk to, recounting whereabout of our old friends. That time I was also acting in a play, and she came to see my rehearsal. After the real performance, we sat on grass in the university. She brought a bottle of wine for celebration. I guess we got quite close during my last summer in China. One day before I departed for the US, we celebrated her birthday. Sorry, I even forgot whether I gave her a gift or if yes, what gift. But I remember she gave me a gift: a bottle of soil. She said it is to let me remember my root is in China no matter where I go. The next day, I left.
Sometimes I have to think about a lot of "what if"s. What if she came to Beijing in her Junior year? what if I did not have to be admitted into a US university? Is it possible to have a romantic relationship with her? Of course, history has no alternative. I moved on to pursue my study in US, without being bothered by any hypothetical world (I guess that's why I had the feeling as recorded on Jan 25th. Some buried memory probably found its way to sneak by). However, we still communicated with emails, probably 3-4 emails a year. I know she first got a job in our homtown, then quit the job and went to France to study for one year, and now she is back and find a new job in our hometown. I am quite impressed by her decision of going to France, because most people would never have made this kind of decision. Anyway, in the last email I got from her yesterday, she seems happy with her current job and her friends. I am happy for her too.
I know blogger.com is blocked in China. That's why I blogged about her on Jan 25th. I have numerous crushes on girls since my puberty, but I rarely proceed to puruse, because I know sometimes it is just impossible, sometimes just for fear of rejection. Well, tonight, I emailed her a zip file of my this year's blog, asking her to read it matter-of-factly if she want to. Two major reasons stands out: 1. I have my love interest now, and she knows that. So my blog wouldn't be misunderstood, I believe. 2. My friend's comment one day really hit me. I think she is right all along. Of course, I gave a half-assed "thank-you" a couple of blogs before. Now my action is a real "thank-you" to her. Oh, maybe there is a third reason. 3. My recent experiences really taught me the value of being honest and being a straighter talker. I want her to be a remote friend back home, for as long as I can, and I guess I try to be honest to her, from now.
Ok, that's my blog today. I need to have a good sleep tonight, because tomorrow, it is my performance night. Next blog is about my mom on May 8th. Happy Mother's Day, mom. I know you are gonna say:"What is the heck with Mother's Day. Get real, son!" Ok, ok, but I am still going to blog you, and there is nothing you can do about it:-)
Let me blog another friend today. First, I feel like blogging tonight. Second, I got an email from her this morning. Third, I wrote back to her tonight, feeling that is a perfect time to blog about her.
For anyone who follows my personal narratives, you have already encountered Limela in Jan 25th blog. But here is more history. She is a high school classmate of mine. We did not talk much during high school at all. As you all know by know, I was quite nerdy back then, trying hard to get ahead in exams while rarely looked at girls with straight eyes. She was quiet, smart and had an appealing personality, seemingly well-liked by those boys who were good at sports but not academics, but no scandelous rumors as far as I know.
We did not become friends until our senior year in college, when she came to Beijing for a language school. Since she knew only few people in Beijing, the nerd-back-in-school became her helper in finding a cheap apartment. My serior year was sorta crazy, since I knew I would go to the USA and tried to find multiple jobs to pay my way across the Pacific Ocean. I took two jobs and one time I went sleepless for 48 hours because the day shift and night shift went together. It was really nice to have a person from home to talk to, recounting whereabout of our old friends. That time I was also acting in a play, and she came to see my rehearsal. After the real performance, we sat on grass in the university. She brought a bottle of wine for celebration. I guess we got quite close during my last summer in China. One day before I departed for the US, we celebrated her birthday. Sorry, I even forgot whether I gave her a gift or if yes, what gift. But I remember she gave me a gift: a bottle of soil. She said it is to let me remember my root is in China no matter where I go. The next day, I left.
Sometimes I have to think about a lot of "what if"s. What if she came to Beijing in her Junior year? what if I did not have to be admitted into a US university? Is it possible to have a romantic relationship with her? Of course, history has no alternative. I moved on to pursue my study in US, without being bothered by any hypothetical world (I guess that's why I had the feeling as recorded on Jan 25th. Some buried memory probably found its way to sneak by). However, we still communicated with emails, probably 3-4 emails a year. I know she first got a job in our homtown, then quit the job and went to France to study for one year, and now she is back and find a new job in our hometown. I am quite impressed by her decision of going to France, because most people would never have made this kind of decision. Anyway, in the last email I got from her yesterday, she seems happy with her current job and her friends. I am happy for her too.
I know blogger.com is blocked in China. That's why I blogged about her on Jan 25th. I have numerous crushes on girls since my puberty, but I rarely proceed to puruse, because I know sometimes it is just impossible, sometimes just for fear of rejection. Well, tonight, I emailed her a zip file of my this year's blog, asking her to read it matter-of-factly if she want to. Two major reasons stands out: 1. I have my love interest now, and she knows that. So my blog wouldn't be misunderstood, I believe. 2. My friend's comment one day really hit me. I think she is right all along. Of course, I gave a half-assed "thank-you" a couple of blogs before. Now my action is a real "thank-you" to her. Oh, maybe there is a third reason. 3. My recent experiences really taught me the value of being honest and being a straighter talker. I want her to be a remote friend back home, for as long as I can, and I guess I try to be honest to her, from now.
Ok, that's my blog today. I need to have a good sleep tonight, because tomorrow, it is my performance night. Next blog is about my mom on May 8th. Happy Mother's Day, mom. I know you are gonna say:"What is the heck with Mother's Day. Get real, son!" Ok, ok, but I am still going to blog you, and there is nothing you can do about it:-)
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Dance and others
It has passed midnight already, but I am so happy today that I have to write this post.
I nailed a practice presentation of my dissertation proposal this afternoon. And then I went to a dance rehearsal. Since our piece is the last, we waited until the very end. Eight of us agreed on a joke to "Irisa". That is, in a section of "unison fall" (in which we supposed to run with a falling feeling), we really fell to the ground at the same time. We danced through the rest of piece all smiling, thinking we must have scared "Irisa", who is always asked us not to get injured before the performance. Well, while I am typing this blog, I am still laughing. This joke is THAT good.
Recently my favorite music is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I put my ipod on "repeat one" and listen to the song everywhere, with the sound almost hitting the maximum. I love the background piano and the female voice, both of which are tragically beautiful.
I decided to give my life a summary today, so I counted the items in my "running box". Into the box I put a random item every time I ran the campus drive. Recently I got a bunch of sea shells from the beach. When the supply lasts, it will all be sea shells now to put in the box. There are 39 items, which means I have run about 156 miles in the past 5 month. It is 6 marathons. I felt I actually ran more than that, and sometimes I must forgot to keep track of it. However, 6 marathons are something I am really proud right now, although they took me 5 months. Thinking about how I started running, I feel how life can be turning around in any unexpected ways. Now I am all happy and feel connected to the people around me all the time. Somehow I feel that my running might be inspired by "Forrest Gump". Maybe it was not how I started, but my experience does fit into Gump's idea: life is a box of chocolate, and I never know what's gonna happen next.
I nailed a practice presentation of my dissertation proposal this afternoon. And then I went to a dance rehearsal. Since our piece is the last, we waited until the very end. Eight of us agreed on a joke to "Irisa". That is, in a section of "unison fall" (in which we supposed to run with a falling feeling), we really fell to the ground at the same time. We danced through the rest of piece all smiling, thinking we must have scared "Irisa", who is always asked us not to get injured before the performance. Well, while I am typing this blog, I am still laughing. This joke is THAT good.
Recently my favorite music is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I put my ipod on "repeat one" and listen to the song everywhere, with the sound almost hitting the maximum. I love the background piano and the female voice, both of which are tragically beautiful.
I decided to give my life a summary today, so I counted the items in my "running box". Into the box I put a random item every time I ran the campus drive. Recently I got a bunch of sea shells from the beach. When the supply lasts, it will all be sea shells now to put in the box. There are 39 items, which means I have run about 156 miles in the past 5 month. It is 6 marathons. I felt I actually ran more than that, and sometimes I must forgot to keep track of it. However, 6 marathons are something I am really proud right now, although they took me 5 months. Thinking about how I started running, I feel how life can be turning around in any unexpected ways. Now I am all happy and feel connected to the people around me all the time. Somehow I feel that my running might be inspired by "Forrest Gump". Maybe it was not how I started, but my experience does fit into Gump's idea: life is a box of chocolate, and I never know what's gonna happen next.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Finished!
I thought I would write this blog on the night when I finished the draft of my paper, but it delayed it until now.
This past week is quite a roller-coaster. I was extremely stressed out until Friday, and then "Boo", I am a happy person again. Though still not a good dancer though. This rehearsal of the past several days felt wierd.
I was helping "Kiery" moved on Saturday. He tried to make the best out of the breakup, so he was joking that he would hook up a hub so Amsol, he and I could play "red alert" again. We had a good time playing the game last summer. (I am not a big game fan, but playing in Amsol's house and ganged up on Kiery was fun:-) Without a girlfriend, he would definitely commit more time in the future. I hope he wouldn't sink too low, but I worried he would.
Next week is a big week for me. First, I have a practice talk tomorrow in the workshop, and I haven't prepared for it yet! well, tomorrow morning should be enough. And then, all the dancing things come. I am hyped for it, believing I would do better than last year. Not that my technique improved. No, not at all, probably. But I definitely feel that my body is more in sync with my mind, which makes dancing a much better experience than before.
Have a good conversation with D. At one moment, she asked me why I haven't blogged her yet. Well, I do not know. Her reading this blog might be one reason. But also, I am not willing to analyze her in the way that I did to other people and then put them into a stereotypical description. Anyway, just a minute ago, I got her email saying that she also enjoyed it. Cool. Afterwards I called my parents and sister. All of them were at home, for the May 1st holiday. I can even heard my sister's baby crying. They handed over the phone receiver to each other, as if my voice is just a scarce commodity that they all want a fair share of it.
They told me a person from my high school died in Yale. He was a good student in high school and then was sent to Yale for computer science. He stressed himself out and died one night in sleep. Poor guy. When my parents' description indicated that they did not really understand why he died, but I believe I do. I see many Chinese students on the same track with less severity, some of whom were still in denial. Recently I am extremely worried about a friend who would probably dropped out of school.
Anyway, tonight's blog is very unorganized. I feel I have much to say, but does not seem to say anything well. But you get the picture.
This past week is quite a roller-coaster. I was extremely stressed out until Friday, and then "Boo", I am a happy person again. Though still not a good dancer though. This rehearsal of the past several days felt wierd.
I was helping "Kiery" moved on Saturday. He tried to make the best out of the breakup, so he was joking that he would hook up a hub so Amsol, he and I could play "red alert" again. We had a good time playing the game last summer. (I am not a big game fan, but playing in Amsol's house and ganged up on Kiery was fun:-) Without a girlfriend, he would definitely commit more time in the future. I hope he wouldn't sink too low, but I worried he would.
Next week is a big week for me. First, I have a practice talk tomorrow in the workshop, and I haven't prepared for it yet! well, tomorrow morning should be enough. And then, all the dancing things come. I am hyped for it, believing I would do better than last year. Not that my technique improved. No, not at all, probably. But I definitely feel that my body is more in sync with my mind, which makes dancing a much better experience than before.
Have a good conversation with D. At one moment, she asked me why I haven't blogged her yet. Well, I do not know. Her reading this blog might be one reason. But also, I am not willing to analyze her in the way that I did to other people and then put them into a stereotypical description. Anyway, just a minute ago, I got her email saying that she also enjoyed it. Cool. Afterwards I called my parents and sister. All of them were at home, for the May 1st holiday. I can even heard my sister's baby crying. They handed over the phone receiver to each other, as if my voice is just a scarce commodity that they all want a fair share of it.
They told me a person from my high school died in Yale. He was a good student in high school and then was sent to Yale for computer science. He stressed himself out and died one night in sleep. Poor guy. When my parents' description indicated that they did not really understand why he died, but I believe I do. I see many Chinese students on the same track with less severity, some of whom were still in denial. Recently I am extremely worried about a friend who would probably dropped out of school.
Anyway, tonight's blog is very unorganized. I feel I have much to say, but does not seem to say anything well. But you get the picture.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Crunch time
I guess I hitting a point that I have to get through as a piece. My defense is near, and I still need one last revision on the paper. I plan to do it before Friday. This means the whole week will be pretty much dead. I am putting a halt on blog until I accomplish this. But I will survive in the end.
Yesterday I was so forgetable because of all the paper ideas. I forgot my keys, ipod, everything. Even today I thought I lost my watch until I found it safely in my bag. But I did manage to get some exercise, for the sake of my own sanity. I went to swimming yesterday. I hadn't done any serious swimming since last August, so I set out a goal of 2000 meters for myself. The most difficult is around 500-1000 meters, when I felt I ran out of gas. But I persisted, and eventually hit a "high" point that lasted throughout the whole distance. I really enjoyed the feeling of water whooshing by my body. It is as if I was a fish, and fish does not need to write dissertation.
So here you go. I know I am a fighter and survivor. Despite a dim week before Friday, I know the weekend will be much brighter. BYe for now....
Yesterday I was so forgetable because of all the paper ideas. I forgot my keys, ipod, everything. Even today I thought I lost my watch until I found it safely in my bag. But I did manage to get some exercise, for the sake of my own sanity. I went to swimming yesterday. I hadn't done any serious swimming since last August, so I set out a goal of 2000 meters for myself. The most difficult is around 500-1000 meters, when I felt I ran out of gas. But I persisted, and eventually hit a "high" point that lasted throughout the whole distance. I really enjoyed the feeling of water whooshing by my body. It is as if I was a fish, and fish does not need to write dissertation.
So here you go. I know I am a fighter and survivor. Despite a dim week before Friday, I know the weekend will be much brighter. BYe for now....
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Some thoughts and my friend: Kiery
I sort of hate yesterday's blog. It is as if by social norm I have to do something when I know people are paying attention......
A small detour though. Now I am going to blog on.
Jegal got my birthday gift from Amazon.com. It is easy on my part, but he seems to be very happy. Oh, well, put me on the same shoes, if my friends give me gifts, I will be happy no matter what. Think about it, even if people pretend to like me, I am at least the winner among the candidates whom they can pretend to like.
Yesterday we had a surprise birthday party for my friend "Dermon". I could not participate because I had the dance performance to watch. However, I did run to safeway and get a watermelon. I put candles on watermelon and the plan was to replace it over a conventional cake. People could sign their names on the watermelon skins. Again, this is a cheap idea. But again, if I were him, I would be touched, simply because people put some thoughts on it.
Last night I had a great conversation with D. I began to think of blogging about my dad and mom. I want to use their real names, so they will be extra besides the 26 "friend blogs". The funny thing is that I do not regards them as friends. So it fits. I will write these two blogs when I feel ready.
Now it is time to blog another friend, Kiery. Kiery is an activist, probably for anything with a liberal cause. For that, he is a great friend with "Amsol". When they talk, I feel left out, probably because I envy how they can share so many common thoughts. Sometimes their conversation also makes me feel I am a conservative wolf in a liberal sheep skin.
Oh, well, I guess Kiery never think of as a good friend, but why I am blogging him. Because he confided me that he broke up with him 4-year girlfriend. I asked him whether he is all right, and he told me, "it is tough, but I am all right". It is very hard for me to decode the message. But then I promised to help him to move out from the girl's place.
I met his girlfriend a couple of time. She is small, sweet and smart. An activist too. One-time president of university student body. Powerful powerful lady. I really see them as a fitting couple, as Kiery's great ambition and his girl's street smart compensate each other. I heard they were even planning to buy a house. Sorry to hear that, Kiery. Surprisingly, I was the third person in the department to know (one is his office mate, and the other is of course Amsol). Maybe it is just an accident, or that's the plan from god all along. Ok, no more atheist cynicism.
Kiery was in the same year with me. He likes to debate on big theoretical issues, which bore me easily. His dissertation would attempt to build a grand theory. That's for sure. Sometimes I think he is a little unrealistic in imaging the whole world as composed of intellectual exchanges. Well, 90% of the world is bullshit, and I do not feel Kiery is ready to take that. On the other hand, his ideal view about the world drives him into activism. I wonder whether he would be tired, when all the bullshits about dissertation, looking for a job, network with the academic community finally hits him.
Well, shamefully, that's all I know about him. Although we saw each other a lot in the department basement, I barely know him. I guess that's also part of the reasons why I promised to help him to move. It is a golden opportunity to know a person when they were wounded, because they would be more honest to themselves and other people with masks down. Do not take me wrong as if I will take advantage of the situation. I am thinking that he must be in much need of companies to help with moving-out process, which is a painful, symbolic but permenant "good-bye". In the meanwhile, we might become good friends.
A small detour though. Now I am going to blog on.
Jegal got my birthday gift from Amazon.com. It is easy on my part, but he seems to be very happy. Oh, well, put me on the same shoes, if my friends give me gifts, I will be happy no matter what. Think about it, even if people pretend to like me, I am at least the winner among the candidates whom they can pretend to like.
Yesterday we had a surprise birthday party for my friend "Dermon". I could not participate because I had the dance performance to watch. However, I did run to safeway and get a watermelon. I put candles on watermelon and the plan was to replace it over a conventional cake. People could sign their names on the watermelon skins. Again, this is a cheap idea. But again, if I were him, I would be touched, simply because people put some thoughts on it.
Last night I had a great conversation with D. I began to think of blogging about my dad and mom. I want to use their real names, so they will be extra besides the 26 "friend blogs". The funny thing is that I do not regards them as friends. So it fits. I will write these two blogs when I feel ready.
Now it is time to blog another friend, Kiery. Kiery is an activist, probably for anything with a liberal cause. For that, he is a great friend with "Amsol". When they talk, I feel left out, probably because I envy how they can share so many common thoughts. Sometimes their conversation also makes me feel I am a conservative wolf in a liberal sheep skin.
Oh, well, I guess Kiery never think of as a good friend, but why I am blogging him. Because he confided me that he broke up with him 4-year girlfriend. I asked him whether he is all right, and he told me, "it is tough, but I am all right". It is very hard for me to decode the message. But then I promised to help him to move out from the girl's place.
I met his girlfriend a couple of time. She is small, sweet and smart. An activist too. One-time president of university student body. Powerful powerful lady. I really see them as a fitting couple, as Kiery's great ambition and his girl's street smart compensate each other. I heard they were even planning to buy a house. Sorry to hear that, Kiery. Surprisingly, I was the third person in the department to know (one is his office mate, and the other is of course Amsol). Maybe it is just an accident, or that's the plan from god all along. Ok, no more atheist cynicism.
Kiery was in the same year with me. He likes to debate on big theoretical issues, which bore me easily. His dissertation would attempt to build a grand theory. That's for sure. Sometimes I think he is a little unrealistic in imaging the whole world as composed of intellectual exchanges. Well, 90% of the world is bullshit, and I do not feel Kiery is ready to take that. On the other hand, his ideal view about the world drives him into activism. I wonder whether he would be tired, when all the bullshits about dissertation, looking for a job, network with the academic community finally hits him.
Well, shamefully, that's all I know about him. Although we saw each other a lot in the department basement, I barely know him. I guess that's also part of the reasons why I promised to help him to move. It is a golden opportunity to know a person when they were wounded, because they would be more honest to themselves and other people with masks down. Do not take me wrong as if I will take advantage of the situation. I am thinking that he must be in much need of companies to help with moving-out process, which is a painful, symbolic but permenant "good-bye". In the meanwhile, we might become good friends.
Comments!
I just found out some comments from my friends on my blog today. I did not know when they went written, but thank you so much, and sorry for ingoring it for so long. I do not think I am going to respond to each of the comments, because it will be too sentimental. (By the way, I've also kept reading your blogs, although I never happen to input my comment on yours, friend). Besides, I am afraid that I will be too attached to my blog that one day it will take over my real life.
Replying to comments of my blog is hard. Shall I give half-ass "thank you"s? Shall I adopt all the advice? Shall I just justify everything I've done and then say that no changes are necessary? I sorta want to answer "yes" to every question, but they are all so cliche. So as a compromise here, I leave all these questions open.
If everyone has his/her own narratives in comfortably talking about things, blog is mine. Especially the "blogging about my friends" series, which seems to grow on its own now and I am happen to be the one to type them in. I am happy that they provide a window for my friends to know me. In fact, sometimes I am surprised by myself how I wrote about a person significant in my life. I am going to keep on that.
BUt tonight I have no plan to blog about friends. I want to talk about Emio Greco. I loved their performance tonight. I was sitting there overwhelmed by their movement. I forgot to analyze it as a dance piece. I was just observing a group of people moving gracefully. Even Merce Commingham company did not stunt me in that level.
Replying to comments of my blog is hard. Shall I give half-ass "thank you"s? Shall I adopt all the advice? Shall I just justify everything I've done and then say that no changes are necessary? I sorta want to answer "yes" to every question, but they are all so cliche. So as a compromise here, I leave all these questions open.
If everyone has his/her own narratives in comfortably talking about things, blog is mine. Especially the "blogging about my friends" series, which seems to grow on its own now and I am happen to be the one to type them in. I am happy that they provide a window for my friends to know me. In fact, sometimes I am surprised by myself how I wrote about a person significant in my life. I am going to keep on that.
BUt tonight I have no plan to blog about friends. I want to talk about Emio Greco. I loved their performance tonight. I was sitting there overwhelmed by their movement. I forgot to analyze it as a dance piece. I was just observing a group of people moving gracefully. Even Merce Commingham company did not stunt me in that level.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
A dream and Happy Birthday to my friend Jegal
I usually do not write about my dreams, not because I do not want, but because I usually forget them all, despite the facts I know I had a lot of dreams.
Last night is the same. A lot of dreams, and I can remember one very well. It was in an elevator of a very tall building. No walls around the elevator, so I could look down to see how high it went. I was with a group of people, but I forgot who they were. Anyway, the elevator brought us very high, and I began to realize the steel chain holding the elevator was cracking. I had to use my hands to hold it, while thinking, "oh, shit.".... Well, that's the dream.
Happy birthday to my friend Jegal today. Now it is perfect time to blog about you, Jegal, and sorry for this strange name, but "J" does not go along with anything.
I met Jegal while in college. He was sensitive and intelligent. Maybe we are friends just because they were similar to some extent. Our conversation sorta have a formula, starting from our college experience but soon it would upgrade into very abstract talks about life phylosophy. Well, I no longer like this kind of bullshiting conversation. However, looking back, it was nice to have someone to resonate my thoughts. Maybe he hated it that time already, but he was one of the few that tolerated it and kept me unnoticed. He came to the US last year, to study sociology in a small town of Indiana. His wife just got pragnent. I visited them during the spring break.
But besides that, I hardly can think of any reasons why we get that close as we did. Yes, I directed a short play casting him with a small role. Yes, he consulted me a lot about going abroad. Yes, he helped me to deal with my university while I was in the US. But all these are quite trivial, and I will say the friendship might just a good accident. By this, I am not diminishing our friendship. Not at all, I value that very much. Jegal is one of first few who knew my depressing quarter and sincerely invited me to his small town for a vacation to shaking off all the bad things happened to me. I confided him with things I usually kept from my other friends. The mystery of the forming of the friendship made me feel lucky.
I think Jagel might be one of the readers of the blog, but I am still going to write the following to keep my blog's honesty. He has an ideal image about me (Sometimes I feel that's the reason why he valued the friendship so much). He might think I am smart, cynical, ambitious, adventuous, and open-minded. I feel a lot of times he looked up to me. It put me in an awkward position because I was led to act in a way to confirm the expectation. Maybe he is right, but chances are he is wrong. So some day he might be disappointed by my imperfections, lots of it.
Well, that's a problem I had with a lot of my old friends. I liked to perform in a way to present the best of me in the past. Now I am a more honest person in showing who I am, but my old friends, you will know I am just one of the "little people", just like you. No aura, no capacity of teleporting, no solutions for every problem, having strange dreams sometimes, confused about life sometimes, afraid of being alone, and not able to achieve as high as I want. One day you all will know.......
Last night is the same. A lot of dreams, and I can remember one very well. It was in an elevator of a very tall building. No walls around the elevator, so I could look down to see how high it went. I was with a group of people, but I forgot who they were. Anyway, the elevator brought us very high, and I began to realize the steel chain holding the elevator was cracking. I had to use my hands to hold it, while thinking, "oh, shit.".... Well, that's the dream.
Happy birthday to my friend Jegal today. Now it is perfect time to blog about you, Jegal, and sorry for this strange name, but "J" does not go along with anything.
I met Jegal while in college. He was sensitive and intelligent. Maybe we are friends just because they were similar to some extent. Our conversation sorta have a formula, starting from our college experience but soon it would upgrade into very abstract talks about life phylosophy. Well, I no longer like this kind of bullshiting conversation. However, looking back, it was nice to have someone to resonate my thoughts. Maybe he hated it that time already, but he was one of the few that tolerated it and kept me unnoticed. He came to the US last year, to study sociology in a small town of Indiana. His wife just got pragnent. I visited them during the spring break.
But besides that, I hardly can think of any reasons why we get that close as we did. Yes, I directed a short play casting him with a small role. Yes, he consulted me a lot about going abroad. Yes, he helped me to deal with my university while I was in the US. But all these are quite trivial, and I will say the friendship might just a good accident. By this, I am not diminishing our friendship. Not at all, I value that very much. Jegal is one of first few who knew my depressing quarter and sincerely invited me to his small town for a vacation to shaking off all the bad things happened to me. I confided him with things I usually kept from my other friends. The mystery of the forming of the friendship made me feel lucky.
I think Jagel might be one of the readers of the blog, but I am still going to write the following to keep my blog's honesty. He has an ideal image about me (Sometimes I feel that's the reason why he valued the friendship so much). He might think I am smart, cynical, ambitious, adventuous, and open-minded. I feel a lot of times he looked up to me. It put me in an awkward position because I was led to act in a way to confirm the expectation. Maybe he is right, but chances are he is wrong. So some day he might be disappointed by my imperfections, lots of it.
Well, that's a problem I had with a lot of my old friends. I liked to perform in a way to present the best of me in the past. Now I am a more honest person in showing who I am, but my old friends, you will know I am just one of the "little people", just like you. No aura, no capacity of teleporting, no solutions for every problem, having strange dreams sometimes, confused about life sometimes, afraid of being alone, and not able to achieve as high as I want. One day you all will know.......
Friday, April 15, 2005
Some thoughts and My Friend: Irisa
Hi, it is Friday, April 15, 2005. I am at the Starbucks, trying to get some work done. I need to present my dissertation proposal to the workshop next next Monday, by which date I also need to finish a paper, which will be presented on early May. You can say I am leading a busy life. But I want to procrastinate first, as a reward for my hard work earlier this week. So I am writing this post, later to be published in my dear blog.
I began to feel my knee pain after today’s dance class. Not real pain, but just began to feel I can no longer do some movement effortlessly. I know I am near the point that I have to begin to think of alternatives to dance performance in the near future. Of course, I will do it when I am still able to, with my high spirit as always.
I saw Brey (still remember him, everyone?) today outside of education school library. He was eating a sandwich during his work break. He looked very tired, and later I found his girlfriend had broken up with him. I insisted to hang out with him sometime this weekend. He was so depressed and so afraid of being alone that he took a ride with his friend to LA last night and then flew back this morning. He also told me that he tried to make an appointment with the medical clinic. The clinic told him to call back next week. Well, I have to say that the relationship is unrealistic to begin with. Maybe I am too realistic and un-matching to his passionate pursue, but in his case, it is as if he wants to play tennis by himself but still wants to make it a good game. How possible? For me, I want to be with someone to whom I feel comfortable and from whom I feel I am needed. If I feel that I am crushed by her beauty, cannot live when she is away and cannot breathe when she is present, that is a luxury I will surely treasure, but I can definitely live without. So Brey, I guess I will try to check upon you this weekend to make sure you won’t be left by yourself for so long to play out those crazy “what if” scenarios. Maybe you are stronger that I think, but I bet you not.
I went to art gallery today. One of my housemate has an exhibition, so I have to go see. She is one of the cool bunch, but I seem to have troubles even talking to her, because, of course, I am uncool. What’s why I am curious about her art. Well, how should I say? Her art of painting was so depressing that I could sense the air of death. She “little people” are very lonely in the painting. Even if they were together in the same frame, they were surrounded by different shades colors, as if they were living in different worlds, communicating but never touching, talking but never caring. This world is so intolerable that death almost seems to be a very peaceful thought. Well, at least that is my interpretation. It could be wrong, but at least her art is thought-provoking.
Ok, it is time to bring another installment of “my friends”. Irisa, okey, that’s her name. She has been my modern dance teacher for at least 3-4 years. How should I describe her? “A warm heart beneath cold appearance”, it is. If you just started to take her class, either you like her professionalism, or you hate her to be so impersonal. Some inside-information: One girl told me that after the first class last quarter, some girls were crying in the locker room because of Irisa’s toughness. As a guy, I never felt I was crushed like that, but I did feel uncomfortable sometimes. Irisa, why cannot you smile more?
Well, I guess a person is like a product. When it is extraordinary, it must come with some flaws to make it unique. I believe that’s what happened to Irisa. When you begin to know her, you have to believe she is extraordinary. I never see any faculty members so devoted the way she did. She tried very hard to reach out to students and tell them all the performance opportunities. Twice, she drove us to some dance festivals to participate performing. What’s more, she made the performance happen. When some lazy-ass choreographers cannot come, Irisa is always available to sub. Over the holidays, she will arrange to open the door of the studio. Of course, she used to dance with Merce’s company, which further put her in the cool bunch.
I doubted I would’ve gone that far in dancing without her. She always told me that I did a great performance, even though I was not. Ha, you know what, I loved her sincere lies. Typical human flaws, I know, but that’s my problem of being so superficial. She even told me that I did a great job in rolling the dice for Merce’s performance. Are you kidding me? How hard is it for a Ph.D. student to roll the dice and announce a sentence? But I love Irisa so much because of that!
Ok, up to day, it is 10 friends already. ABCDEFGHIN! Twenty-six more to go, Mmmmmhahahhaaa!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I will write more later...
Tonight is the night. I am going to finish the third draft of my dissertation proposal. I was so pre-occupied by the dissertation thing today. I couldn't get it off from my mind even when I went to bathroom, on the road, or while eating. Sometimes I appreciated this working style, very concentrating and very devoting, but sometimes it pissed me off, because it took all the joys of human interaction away from me. I felt my head had a different weight and my focus was loose..... Anyway, a dance rehearsal an hour ago gave back my sanity. I am going to finish the thing and write more in this blog tonight. Work my ass off please.
.....
It is three hours later, and I did it! Self-congratulation first, since nobody else hung out in the department that late. However, I still cannot figure out why some people find it fun to write a dissertation. For me, it is quite stressful. At the beginning, it is full of procrastination, as if the work will go away if I delay it again and again. In the middle, I began to worry how I am going to finish it, because so many good and trashy ideas floating around for revisions, but I cannot tell which is briliant and which is worthless ideas. Finally, I sensed the clock ticking, so settling down and gluing my ass to the chair. It proved to be totally doable. And now it is over, and I hope my self-confidence has been recovered by now. Now I only hope my advisor wouldn't say,"Such a crap. No defense this quarter!" Well, partly kidding, and I know it is not gonna happy. But thinking of this scenario is amusing, as if my life has degraded so that I am not the one in control any more.
Well, control, that is a topic unfinished in the last post. I blogged about the reason why I did random things is because I want the experience. Well, part of the whole answer. The other part is that I want to have a sense of control. You see, everyone needs to do something on their own will. Take the looking for example. Some people tried to lose weight and I tried to gain weight. the direction of the trial does not matter; what matters is that we want a sense that we can control how we look. By the same token, make-up does not necessarily make people more beautiful, but does give girls a sense of self-esteem because they can decide how they look.
So Why do I dance, take low-pay jobs, do painful jogging? Partly because I want to do that. It sorta tautological, but that's the whole point. I do what I want to do, and that's why I am not insane by now.
After writing down the above analysis, I decide to quit. Why always psycho-analyzing myself? Lighten up, dude. Ok, next blog will be about another friend of mine. Stay tuned.
.....
It is three hours later, and I did it! Self-congratulation first, since nobody else hung out in the department that late. However, I still cannot figure out why some people find it fun to write a dissertation. For me, it is quite stressful. At the beginning, it is full of procrastination, as if the work will go away if I delay it again and again. In the middle, I began to worry how I am going to finish it, because so many good and trashy ideas floating around for revisions, but I cannot tell which is briliant and which is worthless ideas. Finally, I sensed the clock ticking, so settling down and gluing my ass to the chair. It proved to be totally doable. And now it is over, and I hope my self-confidence has been recovered by now. Now I only hope my advisor wouldn't say,"Such a crap. No defense this quarter!" Well, partly kidding, and I know it is not gonna happy. But thinking of this scenario is amusing, as if my life has degraded so that I am not the one in control any more.
Well, control, that is a topic unfinished in the last post. I blogged about the reason why I did random things is because I want the experience. Well, part of the whole answer. The other part is that I want to have a sense of control. You see, everyone needs to do something on their own will. Take the looking for example. Some people tried to lose weight and I tried to gain weight. the direction of the trial does not matter; what matters is that we want a sense that we can control how we look. By the same token, make-up does not necessarily make people more beautiful, but does give girls a sense of self-esteem because they can decide how they look.
So Why do I dance, take low-pay jobs, do painful jogging? Partly because I want to do that. It sorta tautological, but that's the whole point. I do what I want to do, and that's why I am not insane by now.
After writing down the above analysis, I decide to quit. Why always psycho-analyzing myself? Lighten up, dude. Ok, next blog will be about another friend of mine. Stay tuned.
Friday, April 08, 2005
The point is.....
Sometimes I will have the impulse to ask, "what's the point of doing this and that?" Very difficult question to answer, because if you dig deeper and deeper, nothing has a point, unless you have some religious or spiritual beliefs that can relieve you from pushing yourself too hard on reasoning. Days go by without this sort of question, but it hits me once a while. Why am I doing dance? Why I take the shitty job in Tressider Gym in 7-9am shift? Why I want to be House Manager for my co-op next year? Why I want to be the Safeway Runner? Why I go jogging once a while? Why I write this blog while I can do some required readings instead? Why I do small talks with my good friends? Why do I hang out with people who I am not fond of? Why I ..... have to be me?
I guess the only answer I can offer right now is that I want the experiences. I know, it is the last resort: if nothing has a point, then non-pointness itself has to have some meanings. For example, with dance, I experience my body in a unique way; with the shitty job, I feel i am experiencing college as those students from blue-collar families; With House Manager thing, i hope I can experience managing a big family, sort of; With jogging, I experience the great agony while running and great relief afterwards; with my friends or non-friends, I experience the mystery of being in a community-while everyone is alone deep-down, people interact to deny their ultimate loneliness; with being me, I experience joy and sadness just like I will experience.
I do know why I am writing this blog. Everything is triggered after I came back from the early morning shift in gym. I am tired and have to have some tea to keep me afloat (Still, I have been resisting coffee in the past half year since the autumn depression), and began to question whether it all worths it? I do not really care about the shitty salary, but what for? Well, my tentative answer is that it is, but for no reasons other than an unfalsifiable proposition that I need the experience. And that's the closest thing I can come up with to secure my self-esteem, adn I am happy I can shut out my rationality in answering this question.
I guess the only answer I can offer right now is that I want the experiences. I know, it is the last resort: if nothing has a point, then non-pointness itself has to have some meanings. For example, with dance, I experience my body in a unique way; with the shitty job, I feel i am experiencing college as those students from blue-collar families; With House Manager thing, i hope I can experience managing a big family, sort of; With jogging, I experience the great agony while running and great relief afterwards; with my friends or non-friends, I experience the mystery of being in a community-while everyone is alone deep-down, people interact to deny their ultimate loneliness; with being me, I experience joy and sadness just like I will experience.
I do know why I am writing this blog. Everything is triggered after I came back from the early morning shift in gym. I am tired and have to have some tea to keep me afloat (Still, I have been resisting coffee in the past half year since the autumn depression), and began to question whether it all worths it? I do not really care about the shitty salary, but what for? Well, my tentative answer is that it is, but for no reasons other than an unfalsifiable proposition that I need the experience. And that's the closest thing I can come up with to secure my self-esteem, adn I am happy I can shut out my rationality in answering this question.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
That's all right. And Niangniang.
I feel like shit today. Something is messed up, and I guess I deserved that, except that I am not sorry about what I did. I finally planted the lavender on a big pot this noon. I want to see how amazing when the beautiful blue flowers blossom. I totally forgot the house job too, the first time in my two years of residence in the co-op. Fortunately, my mind did not totally lost so I remembered the House Meeting. Get a safeway runner job this quarter. Anyway, I have a good and busy week to look forward to, and I guess everything will be all right.
Last night I thought of my grandma, who is living currently in senior center. I am going to blog her right now. I call her Niangniang in Chinese, so she will be called so here. She is one of the most influential figures in my life.
I grew up with her since I was a baby. My parents were working class professionals, and they were not rich. So they did not have much time to spend with me. So I grew up with Niangniang. That's why I never had attachment to my parents, who I only felt a biological linkage conceptually.
With Niangniang, I felt safe. She is kind, generous to protective to me. When I was a kid, I was very easy to be intimidated. I still remember one day I broke the key to the classroom and totally freaked out. Niangniang just calmed me down and took charge of replacing the key for me. Until today, I am still not sure whether her protection really served me good or just spoiled me, but I would forever appreciate and never complain about her full-hearted love.
But I used to be anger about her protection, especially in my teenage years. She kept track on my friends and even had their phones number in case she wanted to know whereabout of me or what happened in school. She tried to especially monitor my female friends so I would not slip into romantic relationship in young age, which she thought would ruin me. One day I was so angry that I almost hit her (not really, but my palm did slightly slap on her face). I felt really bad afterward, but I never admitted to her because of my stupid teenage pride.
Niangniang is very proud of me, my strength or my flaws alike. She said I used to cry a lot in order to get what I wanted. Oh, my stubbornness. She said once I was eating beans. One bean was dropped into a pile of charcoal. And I insistently asked her to find it and wash it so that I can eat it. So she secretly took one bean from my bowl and pretended that's the one from the charcoal to stop from crying. I had very vague memory of that, so I guess I was about 4-5 years old that time. She is also proud of me now, even though I am thousands miles apart. She will appreciate every small things I do for her, even though they are no sweat on my part.
When the time flashed back, I would saw her aging, from an able body going shopping in farmer's market every morning to a thin body that even 30 meters of walking seems like a stretch for her. I am scared evry time I think of her incoming death. As an athiest, I get no comfort from an illusionory faith, which I wish I could have, so that I will be at peace with some inevitable life cycles.
I think of Niangniang today. I hope nothing is wrong. The last two times when I dreamed of her getting sick, she was actually sick when I later called her. There are some unexplanable connections between us. I wish today's thinking of you means nothing bad. Although you probably forgot of the incident when I almost hit, it was always here in my mind. I wouldn't mentioned that to you, so that you can maintain a perfect image of me and feel good of boasting my achievement among your senior center neighbors. But I want to say sorry here. And that's my entry for "N". Niangniang, you will the only one with a real meaningful name in my 26 blogs.
Last night I thought of my grandma, who is living currently in senior center. I am going to blog her right now. I call her Niangniang in Chinese, so she will be called so here. She is one of the most influential figures in my life.
I grew up with her since I was a baby. My parents were working class professionals, and they were not rich. So they did not have much time to spend with me. So I grew up with Niangniang. That's why I never had attachment to my parents, who I only felt a biological linkage conceptually.
With Niangniang, I felt safe. She is kind, generous to protective to me. When I was a kid, I was very easy to be intimidated. I still remember one day I broke the key to the classroom and totally freaked out. Niangniang just calmed me down and took charge of replacing the key for me. Until today, I am still not sure whether her protection really served me good or just spoiled me, but I would forever appreciate and never complain about her full-hearted love.
But I used to be anger about her protection, especially in my teenage years. She kept track on my friends and even had their phones number in case she wanted to know whereabout of me or what happened in school. She tried to especially monitor my female friends so I would not slip into romantic relationship in young age, which she thought would ruin me. One day I was so angry that I almost hit her (not really, but my palm did slightly slap on her face). I felt really bad afterward, but I never admitted to her because of my stupid teenage pride.
Niangniang is very proud of me, my strength or my flaws alike. She said I used to cry a lot in order to get what I wanted. Oh, my stubbornness. She said once I was eating beans. One bean was dropped into a pile of charcoal. And I insistently asked her to find it and wash it so that I can eat it. So she secretly took one bean from my bowl and pretended that's the one from the charcoal to stop from crying. I had very vague memory of that, so I guess I was about 4-5 years old that time. She is also proud of me now, even though I am thousands miles apart. She will appreciate every small things I do for her, even though they are no sweat on my part.
When the time flashed back, I would saw her aging, from an able body going shopping in farmer's market every morning to a thin body that even 30 meters of walking seems like a stretch for her. I am scared evry time I think of her incoming death. As an athiest, I get no comfort from an illusionory faith, which I wish I could have, so that I will be at peace with some inevitable life cycles.
I think of Niangniang today. I hope nothing is wrong. The last two times when I dreamed of her getting sick, she was actually sick when I later called her. There are some unexplanable connections between us. I wish today's thinking of you means nothing bad. Although you probably forgot of the incident when I almost hit, it was always here in my mind. I wouldn't mentioned that to you, so that you can maintain a perfect image of me and feel good of boasting my achievement among your senior center neighbors. But I want to say sorry here. And that's my entry for "N". Niangniang, you will the only one with a real meaningful name in my 26 blogs.
My friends (7): Hrend
Hrend is a decent guy. If I have to use one word to describe him, it will be "loyal", a virtue I value the most in friendship, and I myself try hard to live up to for my friends.
Hrend is so decent that he has a hard time to find a girlfriend, and for this he is always pissed off. Although he never said so, I want to complain in his name, "why girls like 'bad' guys?". Well, you can argue that guys also have the complex of saving whores. But from my point of view, I feel the former complex is worse, well, if you real want to push me hard, worse for me and Hrend. Anyway, back to Hrend. He had a bad love story two quarters ago. And one night, he was in such a bad mood, he drove out to a nearby hill to look at star (shall I say he is romantic here?). On the way, he totalled his beloved car. He told me he cried badly afterward, although he was lucky to be alright himself.
Sometimes bad things happen to good people. But good people also grow in bad events. Hrend does not emerge as a totally different person, but he is much more assured about himself after the event and even more decent to people. I always want to hug him or pat his back to let him know how amazing he is to pull that off, but I know it would be too condescenting. So as an alternative, I made a fake cake for his birthday of April 1st, and he really appreciated that by saying it is his best birthday ever. He actually cut the cake with a slow knife with much effort, and then tasted it before he realized the prank. Then we all laughed like babies. What a wonderful night!
Hrend is leaving the university this year for another California university. According to his words after druck last night, he was "stupid in dealing with relationships with his advisor" at this university and believed his life will move on by pursuing a degree in another institution. I know he will (here I pause about 5 minutes, trying to come up with some fancy words to conclude this blog. I failed. He is just so normal and humble that you can hardly spot him in a crowd, but there is something within him beyond typical talent sighting. His strength is silent and stay low, but he will reach high some day, with a loud appauld from below, probably me included). Good luck, Hrend.
Hrend is so decent that he has a hard time to find a girlfriend, and for this he is always pissed off. Although he never said so, I want to complain in his name, "why girls like 'bad' guys?". Well, you can argue that guys also have the complex of saving whores. But from my point of view, I feel the former complex is worse, well, if you real want to push me hard, worse for me and Hrend. Anyway, back to Hrend. He had a bad love story two quarters ago. And one night, he was in such a bad mood, he drove out to a nearby hill to look at star (shall I say he is romantic here?). On the way, he totalled his beloved car. He told me he cried badly afterward, although he was lucky to be alright himself.
Sometimes bad things happen to good people. But good people also grow in bad events. Hrend does not emerge as a totally different person, but he is much more assured about himself after the event and even more decent to people. I always want to hug him or pat his back to let him know how amazing he is to pull that off, but I know it would be too condescenting. So as an alternative, I made a fake cake for his birthday of April 1st, and he really appreciated that by saying it is his best birthday ever. He actually cut the cake with a slow knife with much effort, and then tasted it before he realized the prank. Then we all laughed like babies. What a wonderful night!
Hrend is leaving the university this year for another California university. According to his words after druck last night, he was "stupid in dealing with relationships with his advisor" at this university and believed his life will move on by pursuing a degree in another institution. I know he will (here I pause about 5 minutes, trying to come up with some fancy words to conclude this blog. I failed. He is just so normal and humble that you can hardly spot him in a crowd, but there is something within him beyond typical talent sighting. His strength is silent and stay low, but he will reach high some day, with a loud appauld from below, probably me included). Good luck, Hrend.
Finally, one week is over
Hi, Finally one week of no-blog is over. I guess I am a quite disciplined person in the end, just sticking with my promise, even though the promise might be a bad idea to start with.
So where do I start this blog since I have so much to say?
Ok, anyone remember my blog of "Honesty" a couple of weeks ago? Well, the two secrets are no longer secrets to one person (let me call her D. here). I am still not sure whether confiding her with the second one is a good idea. Before I hed out for the coffee place with her, it was still a big "maybe". I myself have so much confusion on that, and I was afraid that no explanation would help. All my selfish actions have selfless excuses, and all the selfless actions contain a selfish motives (This applies to my disclosing of the secret. Now my burden is lifted, while leaving D. to interpret what this all means). Anyway, if D. is reading, I hope you will just take it as its face value.
I almost cried today when I talked to D. I has been a while since the last time I feel safe or ok to cry. Too many half-assed comments in the real life. They are numbing my heart and increasing my cynicism. But once a while I will get touched by my own words, which resonated in my mouth and hit some vulnerable strings in my chest. Just for the record, I almost cried when I talked about something like that: "It hurts even when you expect it, as if human rationality is no rival to emotions. Sometimes caring starts with a half-assed commitment, then you are just taken by surprise." The words here are fancier, but the meaning is equivalent.
Having a good time with D., I know I did badly to another friend. He called during our conversation, and I prmised him that I would call back soon. But it happened very late, and in the meanwhile I missed several of his other calls. I wouldn't say he is my friend, because a lot of times I took pity on him. He is unpopular and sometimes weird, but he is sincere and a good guy. I say this in a condescenting way. Yes, I know. But that's the way it is. I went out with him for dinner today more out of sympathy than friendship, but hey, at least I made him believe we are friends. Anyway, he has the virtue of forgiving me immediately for not calling him back soon enough. Thank you.
D. asked me whether I always do things like that to make other people feel better. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I do. But a lot of my friends do the same things to me all the time, and I feel great when I can spread their virtues to the people least cared by the mainstream. I am in a good position for them be feel less condescenting, because of my natural advantage of being international, being minority and being a loser in love life (the last point is really important, I found, because they also tend to be losers).
Yesterday I made a fake cake for one of my friend birthday on April 1st. The photo of the cake will be uploaded soon, because I am so proud of it. He will be the friend with the initial H in his name next
So where do I start this blog since I have so much to say?
Ok, anyone remember my blog of "Honesty" a couple of weeks ago? Well, the two secrets are no longer secrets to one person (let me call her D. here). I am still not sure whether confiding her with the second one is a good idea. Before I hed out for the coffee place with her, it was still a big "maybe". I myself have so much confusion on that, and I was afraid that no explanation would help. All my selfish actions have selfless excuses, and all the selfless actions contain a selfish motives (This applies to my disclosing of the secret. Now my burden is lifted, while leaving D. to interpret what this all means). Anyway, if D. is reading, I hope you will just take it as its face value.
I almost cried today when I talked to D. I has been a while since the last time I feel safe or ok to cry. Too many half-assed comments in the real life. They are numbing my heart and increasing my cynicism. But once a while I will get touched by my own words, which resonated in my mouth and hit some vulnerable strings in my chest. Just for the record, I almost cried when I talked about something like that: "It hurts even when you expect it, as if human rationality is no rival to emotions. Sometimes caring starts with a half-assed commitment, then you are just taken by surprise." The words here are fancier, but the meaning is equivalent.
Having a good time with D., I know I did badly to another friend. He called during our conversation, and I prmised him that I would call back soon. But it happened very late, and in the meanwhile I missed several of his other calls. I wouldn't say he is my friend, because a lot of times I took pity on him. He is unpopular and sometimes weird, but he is sincere and a good guy. I say this in a condescenting way. Yes, I know. But that's the way it is. I went out with him for dinner today more out of sympathy than friendship, but hey, at least I made him believe we are friends. Anyway, he has the virtue of forgiving me immediately for not calling him back soon enough. Thank you.
D. asked me whether I always do things like that to make other people feel better. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I do. But a lot of my friends do the same things to me all the time, and I feel great when I can spread their virtues to the people least cared by the mainstream. I am in a good position for them be feel less condescenting, because of my natural advantage of being international, being minority and being a loser in love life (the last point is really important, I found, because they also tend to be losers).
Yesterday I made a fake cake for one of my friend birthday on April 1st. The photo of the cake will be uploaded soon, because I am so proud of it. He will be the friend with the initial H in his name next
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