2013年8月28日 星期三

i am

indeed
incredibly distressed
and heavy hearted.

read, read, write

it is also frustrating knowing that there are so many great books written when you also know for sure that even when you gather all the time in your life you won't be able to read (and fathom) half as many. but what is more frustrating is reading rubbish. nonsense, however, is fine, there has not been enough jabberwocky and humty-dumty. reading an unworthy book is much similar to having a bad conversation, at the end you only want your precious time back.

i sometimes write insanely long english sentences, which i know is not nice. but sometimes i do so on purpose, which i think is fine. i do believe that brief means cool, except when you want to write a sentence long enough to appear scholarly and profound. but what i am thinking is, classical chinese is the coolest thing in the universe, for its saying so little and meaning so much, and for its lovely sounds on the ear and lingering effect on the heart. i am often so overwhelmed (by all kinds of good literature) that i think i will never be able to write better than what have already been written.

i ought to finish the novel i started which is themed on my father. it has been nearly a year now since the last sentence was written. but there is no way for me to write without crying. i wonder if i am really too dramatic or sentimental, or maybe what is felt upon my heart is truly too powerful? it has to be felt to be understood, which makes the understanding impossible. we are all alone in this universe. 


the rabbitch

i have to harden my heart so i don't get bullied too much. i used to think that it would be better to just be nice and polite to people, and be extra nice and polite to mean people. but being nice and polite sometimes means you have to compromise a lot, and sometimes a lot more than you can handle. i can still do it now, in my 20s and still have fair energy. however, what i can foresee is that soon i will be old and less energetic but more overloaded than i am now. 

i have tried not to write, so i don't whine, and will appear less like a whiner. but i don't see why i can't do it when it helps unleash my negative feelings. i only whine about little things. i have experienced greater miseries, and with those whining could not help. there were times when the sadness could be so heavily impressed that all incentive to speak was lost. it's lucky enough that there are things that can be talked away.  once spoken/written they become less important. 

but for now, i just wish i could talk about it so it doesn't damage me too much inside. i have tried reasoning. for nights i have written a dialogue in my head, of myself talking to my very self.  i understand that all are illusions and none is permanent.  i understand also that nothing i have is truly mine, and nothing will ever be mine truly except for my own wisdom. i understand that we are only walking molecules. i understand it fair enough to unleash my sufferings for a nice while, but my understanding of what i have understood seems also impermanent.

it is only a little frustrating that what you are able to gain is not even half as much as what you are willing to give.


2013年8月12日 星期一

the seventh day of the seventh month

i woke up with some good thoughts today. and then i realized that it is the seventh day of the seventh month - one of my favorite festivals again. with a typhoon coming to town the whole thing is a little too romantic. 

and most importantly, i simply cannot resist the idea of magpies bridging lovers. 

2013年8月5日 星期一

all the cakes in the world

i didn't know why i had to buy that many cakes home. maybe i did. maybe it was because i knew i needed something to fill what i knew would soon be empty. not my stomach though. maybe a space in memory. a sense of coziness and happiness that cannot be replaced. the sweet and quiet nights of midnight tea and silly games. that amazing something called  togetherness.
suddenly i was there, and suddenly i am here. and the carrot cakes taste like something in between. they are not as good, but they are still the best. i always think back and think i could have made it better, be better, and love better, hold on tighter to the time i had, be as pretty and happy as possible. but that is a bit stupid. but every stubborn person is a bit stupid. i am afraid of the way life speeds itself up and disappears, and me being misplaced in the fear of looking back one day and realizing the possible fact of not having been, or tried my best to catch up with its pace.
i think it's time to recollect my buddhist learning.