Some confession

So this is what they call...one lie after another.

My summer 2007 commute

Thoughts on the home-bound express train:

"Every station passed...
is a few blocks closer."

i thought...

...i had so much to tell (with three drafts piled up along my assembly line), but it turned out that i did not say anything.

Must be the heat :-)

Realization of absurdity

First time we talked about Samuel Beckett in college, i found the word "absurdity" itself quite an absurd instance. If the word can actually logically define itself, i guess my point was that "absurdity" is an occurrence that happens by comparison.

But today on the subway home, when i sensed how rapidly we were traveling in that long, dark tunnel, that absurdity suddenly seized me. Inside the train, small groups of people here and there were loudly chatting, at the same time firmly holding on to where they were. It was only a short moment, but that absurdity was for real.

Action movies

About 6 p.m. yesterday evening, the night before 4th of July, we decided at the very last minute to finally take advantage of Sam's complimentary AMC tickets (which were part of some nice Christmas gifts from work a while back).

We meant to go for "1408", and we did. i've always enjoyed nice thrills for some breath-holding moments and totally unexpected, chilling scares. There is definitely a reason why thrillers sell. And yet, to me, another genre has a tighter grasp, and is simply...above and beyond. When we were done with "1408", i did not want to leave, because, right next to it, "Live Free Or Die Hard" was playing in another twenty minutes.

i know i do not blog about movies unless there is some point i want to get to. Movies, as always, are a quiet existence in my journal, along with dated ticket stubs and, mostly, my thoughts. So, right...i am still not blogging about "Live Free Or Die Hard" here, even though i truly think Bruce Willis is such an amazingly classy action hero. He is just...THE guy.

In college, i went to movies a lot, mostly alone, and action movies were my priority for sure. As people always say, if you want to see action, you gotta see it on the big screen. An action movie - or the element of "adventure" in it - is a continuation of our childhood fantasies, in which most people get to, for a short couple of hours, escape the banality of life. The hero is brave, makes quick, right decisions, and never dies. He is always the last man standing - a real-life superman...on the screen.

i LOVE adventure, but in reality, i probably wouldn't be able to handle it too well (look what my adrenaline can do!), and to be honest, i am fine with my normal life :-) As i'm getting older these years, i am also drawn to comedy, but deep inside, i know that good action movies will aaalllways be my favorite. Perhaps i am just like the kid in "Last Action Hero" (a metafictive action movie, or...a meta-action?): the dream is there for ever.

June 2007...such a long way

Took me years to finally be unblinded from this frustrating revelation: i am fighting a battle that is never won. Never did, and never will.

It used to be fine being the submissive. Sometimes, the simplicity of life, of not asking, of not sensing, proves to be a true blessing. For years, i had hardly questioned my role in this domestic reality, until that phone conversation with J a while back. "You should always push," she said, "don't be the good one." It made sense, i thought. So i fought. And i've been losing.

i wonder if it's all going to come down to the fact that, although some people have no trouble at all, this golden rule just would not work for me. Wait a second, if it doesn't work for me, then it is not a golden rule!

Turns out that June 2007 is such a revealing combination of month and year.

One machine load of free laundry...

...and a long queue and a grumpy evening?

Some time last Friday when the spring break finally came and it smelled wet outside the window, our floor CA sent an email specifying out-of-order machines in the laundry room.

According to the facility office, these machines had trouble dealing with rugs. Towards the end of the email, in a corner that most people might've neglected due to a habit of skipping information, our CA added that, "Also know that machine 25 is now working without needing to put money on it. This is only temporary until the system is completely fixed."

Wasn't it inviting? i actually wondered if she meant to ask the residents to go down for one machine load of free laundry, and was just curious how people would react to that email.

With the question in mind, i immediately pulled up the LaundryView Monitoring System in my browser. In about ten minutes, Machine #25...and watch this! ONLY Machine #25...lighted up and started vibrating on my computer screen. Right! Someone read through the email for sure!

Later through that night, Machine #25 kept its busy status, while the seven other washing machines remained unoccupied. i was like, "c'mon guys, it's just one dollar!" until Sam pulled me away from in front of the computer screen. i thought they were obsessed with that one dollar, but obviously...i was also obsessed watching people obsessed with that one dollar....

Superhuman

During this holiday season, Sam and i watched the first season of the "Heroes" on NBC.com. Although the characters are super-human, the theme is "survive or perish", beyond the usual "good vs. evil" scope.

Instead of a fantasy, the storyline had it set up so it is a scientifical and genetical possibility that humans evolve into super-humans. If, according to Darwin, we were apes in the first place, then human evolution (again) might not be entirely a crazy idea.

While we were watching the 9th episode, i asked Sam which super-power he would choose if he was given the opportunity; he picked Hiro's ability of bending time and space. Later that night, we happened to come across a two-hour Sci-fi original investigation into the Bermuda Triangle...and i began to wonder (with my limited human cognition and intelligence) how our earthly rules could keep working if humans evolve into time-stopping and space-bending beings. It is literally like...numerous Bermuda Triangles on this planet, and these black holes overlap with one another - how does our linear world physically interact with this...anomaly? But on the other hand, i am obviously asking this question as a normal human being.... After all, 1,000 years ago, people could never have imagined what we have today, could they?

A political poem

i see blooming greenish land and trees,
right by the lovely blue sea,
up above shines the orange sun --
that is where i came from.

Letting go...

i've always thought that letting go was one of the hardest things in my world.

But you see...today, when they were walking down the street, away from my sight, i realized...letting go, after all, might be an easier job than trying to hang on to something that is meant to go away.

...Perhaps...it has something to do with the fact that i am already in my thirties?

Weakest link

Once in a while, it would come to a point where i need to take a long moment from work and go use the restroom. Very often, the restroom is empty, and there is no one but me.

Occasionally, someone will come in and join the silence. i will hear sounds that resemble the door, some seat paper, and..., the flush, and then the soap being pressed, followed by some washing.

Sometimes, among that occasionally, sounds of the soap and the washing will not be there. My curiosity will rise, and i will be wanting to see who it is to omit those sounds. But i always sit there and wonder, "These people are educated; why did they forget to wash their hands?"

Until today...i realized, human beings are probably the only creatures over the planet that wash the hands. There is always the fear of bacteria, germs, virus, whatsoever, and there are commercials selling products claiming that, once you spray them on your kitchen countertop, they kill all the bad things.

And yet, with these precautions, humans are still constantly knocked down by a cold, flu, diarrhea, and some infection. We are by all means the weakest link, at the same moment as we are convinced our civilization has made us the smartest.

Crossing the line

Last Saturday on TNT, we watched two movies in a row, two movies that we saw a long time ago: Signs, and Mothman Prophecies.

What is the odds showing films like these, one right after another? In The Signs, Mel Gibson was afraid of crossing that "fine thread of sanity", of mentally stepping away from the human comfort zone, the normal territory -- afraid of wandering off to that "other" side.

Human beings, as distinctly intelligent and free-willed as they claimed themselves to be, are trained and encouraged to stay on "this" side of the line, the line of "seeing is believing", which unfortunately is also the line of human limits. Even when we/they actually see (e.g., what happens in Mothman Prophecies), we/they still do not believe. Instead, as if it was some impulse, we/they immediately try to make sense out of it -- our sense, or, human sense -- within some sensible and comprehensible boundary. Still, it's that fear of crossing over and losing our sanity.

Collecting the memories?

When i was downstairs "obeying the alternate side parking rules", i found myself staring at the sky and lost...in time.

Maybe she was right. Maybe each eyeful of it links to some particular memory...like a mesmerized soul when the 80s music is playing.

Last three months

What happens when people are told they have three months left, not necessarily of their life, but of membership, lease, relationship, ownership, or partnership, etc?

Does the fact make us cherish what we have? i guess human beings react to it in all possible ways. For me, i am sensing some type of remote yet approaching agony.

The Mystery of Ever-changing Airfare

"Nobody knows. It changes practically everyday."
-- Jessica (played by Gaby Hoffmann), in Sleepless in Seattle, while asked how much it costs to fly from Seattle to New York City on Valentine's Day.

Recently, for our trip to AERA, which is going to be held in San Francisco early April, i had been doing a lot of research online.

Take the airfare from New York City for example - leave alone the fact that flying from New York City means three options (LaGuardia, JFK, and Newark) and flying into San Francisco could mean two different nearby airports (SF Int'l Airport and Oakland Int'l Airport) - it IS indeed changing everyday, and the price of a roundtrip ticket could go from $253 to $876! It surely is not about waiting or getting the ticket in advance; it is pure luck.

Isn't this alone NOT going to make tacit agreement between adults an incomprehensible experience? While the fares are manipulated by the airlines in some mysterious ways, the currency, the price of gold in the global market...or even the agreement among adults to pay some arbitrarily defined monetary rewards, to begin with...are all parts of the foundation that our civilization is built upon. Or...is it ever mine?

Blogging and my detail orientation

Two weeks ago when i was finishing up one written assignment for a class, i suddenly realized that i was proofreadiing my writeup over and over again. And i used to hate it.

Because of its public nature, i automatically began to stay VERY aware of my grammar, wording, and the way i describe something. Before i publish one entry, i always re-read, tri-read, quadra-read, and panta-read - just to make sure i do not make any simple mistakes, as if my blog actually meant more than the assignments i submitted before! (Maybe in a way it is!)

But then...it's the same ownership. i am still the writer...is it implying that it is the reader that is making all the differences?

Over- and under-estimation

i think i overestimated the seriousness and underestimated my concern about the nasal congestion. i should always "suffer and be strong", according to one of my favorite quotes.

Being silently active?

The oxymoron should describe well my brain activity...

Finally...a snowing December

It didn't snow a bit last December in Manhattan. Christmas of 2004 was one without snow, one that was not decorated by the whiteness. It was so different from what we used to have in Michigan. The two of us flew away on December 31, spending the eve of the new year on one Northwest flight.

Yet this December, as if there was an attempt to make it up, a few snow storms have already made their way into New York City. One of them hit really hard. Coming from a country that is half sub-tropical, half tropical, i do not truly care about having snow during a long winter, or on a Christmas day.

It's true, though, that an image of inches of snow, covering a small cabin, the ground, and some evergreens nearby, is somehow associated with a "warm" Christmas, when all the family and friends are re-united and sharing their growth and sorrow for the past year.

When snow comes down, it doesn't make any sound and announce its visit like rain does. Yet it also provides similar sootheness. Somehow, i feel comforted, assured, with them coming down from the sky outside my apartment.

Follow-up of The Dangling Leaves

Finally, as of 11/7/05, when i look outside the bedroom window, almost all the leaves are gone from the branches.

What i always like about this is, it allows a lot more sunlight to literally splash in. The drawback is, of course, the winter is about to come soon.

Power Save Mode

Last night i opened up a new email and started reading. When i reached the last line, i realized it was one of those casually forwarded messages from work. Had this happened during the week, i would've sensed it, simply from the tone of the email at the first few lines. But i didn't.

Perhaps my Power Save Mode was on. Recently i noticed two things in particular that recede into Power Save Mode: the printer at work and Sam's new cell phone. In either case, the backlight is completely off. The printer is even funnier, since it says "Powersave" on the tiny, dimmed screen. When i walk by, i have an urge to make a face at it and whisper "alright, i know".

Thus, here is how i interpret the incident. On the weekend, the work section of my brain very likely slows down. It takes something (a date, a command, etc) to trigger and push the "Wake Up" button.

Autumn Leaves

The year before last, i, being a passive observer, started noticing when exactly in the fall, that leaves are entirely gone from tree branches, and also from my mental images of a northern hemisphere summer.

i am terrible with observation, not to mention things that are minute...well, i know leaves falling is surely not something minute! Yet...back when Sam and i were still a part of Ypsi, i hadn't paid any attention until the year before we moved. i drove to school and work, and hardly looked away from the road ahead. When friends told me about things they saw on their way somewhere - a deer, a grand house, a flock of wild birds flying by - i listened with awe.

i think i am exactly like the type of person described in a popular Japanese comic series, Touch, created by Adachi. When there is a goal, i don't stray, i don't stop much to look aside, and i tend to ignore what happens outside my life scope. Just the other day, i thought of this i, and realized that i was probably born with a gift of focusing: i focus on one thing at a time, and i focus very well.

It was something that came in the path of what i focused on that eventually brought me to the discovery of leaves falling: sunlight. One autumn afternoon, Sam and i were going out for some grocery shopping. i noticed the car was no longer in the shade of a particular tree like it used to be. It was under the sun. And then i looked up and saw that the tree was leave-less! It dawned on me it was already the time of a year for us to slow and cool down.

Last October, i was prepared to welcome bare branches here and there. During that week, when i walked back to the apartment from school, there were occasionally strong gusts of wind. Each time they swiped by my street, some leaves fell from the trees hopping, twiddling, hurdling, and dancing. i had enormous delight in that show. On the 18th, all the leaves retreated from my street, tacitly announcing the approach of yet another winter.

Through last weekend, there were a few days when it was gusty and downpoury. Very stormy. The winds actually howled even in broad daylight. But now, outside the windows, there are still quite a lot greenish leaves hanging on the upper branches. Just to have it down on my record: it's the 17th today :-)

"Be careful what you wish for!"

Not without some detectable trace of regret, M. told me with a sigh - "Be careful what you wish for." She did not know she had to learn it the hard way.

Shouldn't this friendly warning have come from someone who is old and, at the same time, wise? i always thought it took years to accumulate experiences, so as to tell if something strongly wished for is worth it.

The problem is, how could human beings possibly foresee the future, only in which the true worth could finally be revealed? In reality, we all naturally crave someone, something, somewhere, or someday - not knowing what could really be tagging along with that desire. While we are strongly in love with an object, it is just absurd to imagine that it could turn out to be disastrous.

Creepily enough, it seems that the saying is about to manifest itself...on me. What i wished for was a leisurely life, free of certain parental obligations. At the age of 31, i am not entirely sorry for this particular wish - only because the moment of truth has not yet arrived.

Almost Two Weeks

This evening i made up my lazy mind to go with Sam to Dodge for some workout - after a 10-day-or-so break. We went up Amsterdam to return the dvd, and walked back down the street towards the campus.

The route actually contains a short walk uphill for two blocks, and is later comsummated by some 70 flights of stairs if we take the gate. The uphill trip hardly compares to any mountain climbing at all, but i can always use some extra air when i jog up the stairs. Usually they at best provide a good warm-up.

Yet today when i finally reached the gym entrance, i was very out of breath. My heart was pounding with the same vehement, choking beat as i would have climing up the Empire State Building...well, it's just figuratively speaking, since there is no way for you to travel up the building by taking the stairs. All of a sudden, i realized it had been quite a while since i last seriously exercised.

Isn't it true that one's physicality corresponds the way it has been fed? Shouldn't the same logic apply to one's mind? If i need to be constantly exercising to be free of muscle atrophy, don't i also need to be constantly reading for fear of postmodern ignorance?

"Remember Me"

Till very recently, i am finally beginning to feel comfortable with the "Remember Me" checkboxs. Mostly, they show up either below or right next to all sorts of online accounts, as if they were part of the entity that naturally has to tag along, or were actually the must-have accesories of the 21st century's Internet logins.

Why was i even asked to check that box, and why would i want to be remembered - so that my information could be stored and later retrieved by a total stranger, or even some corporation that i could by no means stand up against ? i was always able to identify the cynicism in Sam, and never believed i was in any way associated with it. Oh well...perhaps i was only being cautious.

But then the question has come down to: Why is there the checkbox? It is obviously that, with it checked, account names and/or passwords do not have to be entered again and again. However, it's gotta be something beyond mere convenience.

My guess is, the purpose of the checkbox is to reduce as many keystrokes as possible, thus preventing the latter to be recorded and misused. This shall work well except that, after cleaning out the cache and temp files, an user has to run the whole process once again...at the risk of being logged.

So i suppose there is no romanticism in the act, even though for a fact these checkboxes could have been named simply as cold as "Save My Login Name", "Remember My ID", while i am more likey to be able to feel relaxed with "Remember Me" - or even "Forget Me Not"?

The Victim

You thought you suffered, and were a victim in this whole thing. In the absolute spin of your own universe, your sacrifice was the ultimate truth.

But you didn't realize where you stood (back then) in reality. You were, as a matter of fact, already standing on the edge of the cliff. On the contrary to your belief, there was no intention at all, no one ever had, of pushing you off that cliff.

No, you were not a victim. In order to be one, there had to be an arch enemy. The presence of a victim requires that of monsters which impose the undesired cruelty. Where were they when you fell?

She did not step in; he did not choose you.

My Idol (2)

This is no gesture of arrogance; however, up until this moment, i just didn't think i had an idol, or anything similar in nature.

But on the other hand, i also realized there should be someone out there that i admire (possibly not very consciously though) - after all, there is always someone for everyone.

Without too much difficulty, i thought of Rushdie and his incredible capability of telling the impossible tales, even just describing a sunset in the distance. Indeed, he could serve as my literary idol.

i've wanted to tell stories. But the cruel fact is, among the genres of fiction, drama, and poetry, i could only achieve prose. i thought, alright, if that's the best i can do, then let it be so. That is why i've been, diligently, "farming" my MSN space over the past few months. In a few days school is about to begin again, and i'd really like to carry on.

The difference is, i've been writing in Mandarin (Traditional Chinese). i've always thought telling stories in Mandarin actually represented elegant artwork; it seems to me that the language itself flows in an extremely solid way, character by character. You can of course argue that, when characters are printed onto sheets of paper, that is exactly how they look like. Yet, that is not what i mean.

My Idol (1)

A few weeks ago around the street corner, Sam saw a couple "Four Brothers" posters and pointed to me: "There! There is your idol!" And i thought, well, Mark Wahlberg is definitely (one of) the sexiest human being(s) on earth, but...is he my idol?

True i visited his official website, purchased "The Fear", and will probably get a copy of "The Italian Job" too. Shall these make him my idol? Isn't my idol supposed to be someone whose way of doing things, whose ideology, whose beliefs have the power to transform me?

So i thought back. About fourth grade, i read a story of the "ultimate" nurse, Florence Nightingale, admired her, and wanted to be like her when i grew up. However, mom did not think being a nurse - which means working late-night shifts, taking care of the sick, sometimes watching people die - would be a nice, decent career for me. At that time of my not-yet-too-clear decision, she simply said, "i don't think you are built to care for others." It was almost like saying "you don't have it in you" to me. Much later in life, i proved her wrong: i am just as caring, nurturing, and patient as any other devoted nurses could possibly be.

During 1989, my high school freshman year, George Michiael's solo debut, "Faith", topped the Billboard chart. Back then he was such a pop idol, and he became mine too. i devoured news about him, bought the album, learned each song, collected pocket-size pics of him, and looked very hard for his autobiography, which unfortunately was not available in my home town. i adored him just as every fan of his would have. But a few years later, i swtiched completely to heavy metal, and almost forgot about him.

Exercise

Starting this Summer B session, i have been working out regularly at Dodge. Each time i do the StairMaster for half an hour (and moved from Level 3 to 6 within the past five weeks), and then i work on a few other "muscle" machines.

This is the second time that i seemed determined to take regular exercise. During our last few months at Eastern, Sam got me into practicing racquetball. But until now, i only played racquetball twice at Dodge. Playing alone obviously does not attract me.

Isn't it odd i work out nowadays only to avoid period pains? i used to be fine with sweating. When the beads of sweat, at times even streams, rushed down my cheeks, my back, or my chest, satisfaction arose. This pure delight of working out is similar to making love; it is a pleasure to enjoy one's own physical being.

i used to love running to my top speed, feeling the breeze, the sweating afterwards, and i liked being under the sun, being outdoors. In elementary school, i was on the track team, until dad decided to pull me out, giving a lame excuse to the team coach that i caught colds often (as if staying away from exercise helped not getting sick). i still stuck to sunlight. Later in junior high, i wasn't a terrific basketball player, but i took every opportunity to play basketball with friends, even in bitter cold when my ears were frozen to the point that my head hurt.

Can't recall when i actually stopped the craving. It was as if i, half-consciously, half-hypnotizedly, bid farewell to a friend that i had long cherished.

Some people might argue, and i tend to agree, that physical training brings inner calmness. i never tried it when feeling blue (which i should have), but it is not hard to imagine how it works. Hard training and tough workout exhausts the body, thus numbing the senses. i think it is also true that, when one falls asleep (due to fatigue), s/he simply does not feel upset or depressed.

Almost had a heart attack today at the gym, or so i thought. It was after i got done with the StairMaster that i began to have some strong stabs of chest pain. Sam said it sounded like low blood sugar, but i did not feel weak as i did every time the low blood sugar occurred.

This time, it might be easier to stick to my workout. After all, i am no longer working alone. The machine is my coach, and it monitors my activity, exact to the second. As long as the physical condition allows, i don't think anyone would want to "surrender" before the machine beeps.

My Parallel Blog

To celebrate, i named this particular moment "birth of my other self."

This space is surely not to record an instance of schizophrenia, from which i probably would never have the artistic privilege to suffer. It is rather the "rest of me," which i do not share on my other blog, the MSN space.

My MSN blog is open to the public and is written in Mandarin - making it almost impossible for me to spell my entire heart out. i don't suppose those who stop by (if any), most likely by accident, would ever associate this space here with my other half on MSN.

i am pretty secure here, i guess, and thus...free to roam.