nothing to envy

i went through the 292 pages in fear. but what i had to go through were merely words composing stories of people i don't know. the frightening part is that those stories were lived by real people, and those people are not living far. the distance between me in hongkong and people in north korea are not that great in terms of time and geographical difference, and that is what freaks me out the most.

forgive my ignorance, but if it were africa, i might still think it were a bit far from me. and if it happened in the 19th century, or even the early 20th century, i could consider it a part of history. you know there is injustice sometimes and most-where, and most of us are too focused on our own lives to care. but getting to know north korea in the 90s and even the present is like taking a sneak peek at a murder happening next door.

the unusual silence behind that closed door has become so loud and noisy that you are no longer able to pretend nothing is happening. on a side note, i reckon that what has made the system stand would be the manipulation of fear among the people. paulo coelho is right in one of his books, "the devil and miss prym" --

if you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid.

any man has his hell within easy reach, and that's his love for his family.

at first it was for the fear that without this god-like fatherly ruler, they would have been dead for long. and then it was for the fear of the evil capitalism, and the enemies it created. and then it was for the fear of not being able to get into the party, or the fear of being placed at the lowest of the system, and being kept away from all privileges. and then it was for the fear of getting arrested, beaten, sent to labor camp, being kept away from family and friends, or being killed, or even worse, being executed in public.

but when the circumstances get harder, people fear less. the more you have to lose the more you have to fear. undoubtedly a tough case -- there is always something to lose, something larger than life that you think you'd rather suffer or die than lose.

self-portraits

they say it's better to find a boyfriend who loves photograph, so all you do is to smile, and he will take charge of the photo-taking.

my mom is into photography. she took loads of photos of my dad, and when we were little. i guess she thinks it helps her remember moments in life. i am glad that she likes taking photos, her habit has become stacks of photo albums at home. some of the memories long lost in my mind, she has helped to keep record of.

but now i am old and the age is digital. now when we take photographs they are seldom candid, instead they are staged, and we pose. standard face, standard smile. most of my photographs are simply uncool.

luckily i have a little sister, who is generous enough to help me take photos sometimes, (considering how troublesome i can be when it comes to photo-taking, i am never quite satisfied with how i look...) when i feel pretty enough to want to be remembered, or when i want a photo sent to my boyfriend. but most of the time i take my own photos, in my own room.

it may sound a bit pathetic. but my boyfriend is not into photography, and the camera doesn't really love me. it is just extremely difficult to get a photo of a good scenery with me looking good in it. occasionally my mom takes photos of me with her phone camera, but most of the time it is just me and my own existence. no one is bothered enough to capture anything. maybe it's the same with everyone else.

sometimes i am afraid that one day i may wake up to be 70, and i don't have any photos of the young me looking pretty. it will feel so lonely when my memories become my only and very own private access to my past. 

but i am not the only one to do these self-portraits. andy warhol did it, van gogh did, too, and durer was a big fan of it. even when it is not about depicting how the artist looks like, it is still about expressing how the artist feels like. that's why i am here blogging, and when i am not here i am still writing, sometimes a poem, sometimes a letter, sometimes a novella, and sometimes whatever. it may be because of self-love, but it is not entirely that i think, it is also about getting a grip of my own existence. 

otherwise life will pass by without much left. since i was little i have been afraid of how fast life passes lives by. it is almost too fast for us to live.

美人魚之夢

昨天下午睡了個午覺，夢中遇見位位都是美人魚。
人身魚尾，還懂得站立，還漂亮得很。

周公解夢：夢見美人魚象徵愛情甜蜜。

其實近這一年半載以來，都已經甜蜜得過了火。
有時想起三年前的相處，還真驚訝今天竟然如此。
誰會想到呢？我曾經還以為我們一別就一世了。
還記得有天捲縮在沙發上哭得很淒涼，那時連媽媽都拿我沒辦法。

自從認識他之後，無論過了多久，心裡浮沉的一直是要見面的念頭。
初相識、男朋友、舊情人，好朋友，又男朋友。

我只想一直回到他的身邊，那樣的話，所有的等待都值得了。

真愛離不開。

sometimes i forget.

sometimes i forget about things. 

things like who i am, where i am, why i am who and what i am, my own name, and my connection to other people. in these moments of blankness i feel myself out of context. 

i am not sure if this feeling is normal. 

it feels like i am suddenly where i am, and i cannot relate to my surroundings. 

昨夜煙花多璀璨

終於人為煙花亡。

難道萬里晴空不好看，
寧看滿天星光披煙裳？

八時多撞船，九時煙花放，
多少生命，一夜殞落，

還有甚麼可喜可賀？


好一回傷城記，慶了一個城的傷。

船都沉了，孩子在海裡掙扎，
那煙花在上空燒得正旺，
撒了漫天漫地的鹽巴─

諷刺得令人雞皮疙瘩的一幕，

想起都覺得痛。

my hot lemon tea

i think it is silly of me to be upset about something as silly as this, but that was my lemon tea. i have no idea how that whole thing happened. it was simply ridiculous. Y was hungry, and i was, too. so we decided to order afternoon tea, which came with a set, a pork chop bun and a drink. 

so X, who helped us call the restaurant, asked what i wanted to drink, i said hot lemon tea. she said that was not wise, she could make one for me. i said no, i wanted a hot lemon tea. she said no. she said lemon honey then. i said no. i wanted a hot lemon tea. she told me to give K the lemon honey then. i asked if K wanted it. K was busy working. and i felt that it didn't worth the time to fuss around, so i said okay.

but it was not okay. now i think about it. it was my money, i had the right to decide if i wanted to waste it. it was not like i would mind sharing with my colleague. but it was ridiculous how X thought she could control what i should have for my afternoon tea. K didn't even say that she wanted a drink.

X said she would make me a hot lemon tea. i said no. i could make it myself. she said no, and asked me to let her do it. i said no. she asked why. i said i only drank lemon tea made by my mom, restaurants or myself. 

why couldn't i have the hot lemon tea which i actually paid for?

tell me not to be silly, it was just a hot lemon tea. but you see, for some reasons it is in most cases the tea you get with your afternoon tea that perfects your afternoon tea. that was okay if it was my decision not to get it, or if the money for it didn't come from my own pocket.

1. i didn't enjoy fussing over an afternoon tea set. 

2. i didn't enjoy being near anyone who thought they had the right or power to control me.

3. it was my hot lemon tea that i wanted for my afternoon tea!

i am sorry. this is stupid. i am sorry for myself because it almost felt like i was bullied. 

and then i went to a meeting at a cafe after work, i did not want anything at first but there was a minimum charge, so i ended up ordering a hot lemon tea, which i didn't pay for, my friend did, because i did not have any money with me and he was nice.

at last i got what i wanted. but i am upset the whole time.

one weekend on flu, another weekend on period.

why am i living my life this way?

i am incredibly fed up. i want to break free.
i have no idea HOW.