「在這樣的一個春天裡，一些人努力將冬天拋在身後，就像花兒似的默默生長，含苞欲放；另ㄧ些人則命中注定要繼續過一種『含垢忍辱』的生活，就像蕾拉所形容的那樣。」


「流水對一個骯髒的人說：『到這兒來吧。』
骯髒的人說：『我感到羞愧難當。』
流水回答：『沒有我，你如何能洗滌你的污點。』」

The Bookseller of Kabul by Asne Seierstad

01'55

01'55 so it is named

I deleted all the i's in my story
I listen to Tom Waits for the first time in the early morning
The naked self writes

Tom Waits sings, “hope I don't fall in love with you because it makes me a little blue”
Doesn't it?
Have I not had the same thought?
I'd rather not love, so I declared, proud and loud
I'd hate to hurt and be hurt
Time and again

I looked for his presence
I wanted him to be right here right now
Miss right here right now
The joke was told
The night went on without sparkles in my eyes
The night dragged on

I needed water to survive
I needed not you

The door bell rings when I write
The very moments of vulnerability
I'd rather not answer
I've never answered, in the presence of the naked self
Couldn't you, my very own stranger at the door, not have understood?

My darling, my darling,
Tom Waits is singing
How do you scheme love?

我心中想的只有你

How is it that things don't always go the way we want them to?
How is it that the night went on the way neither of us understood what to do with it?
How is it that people love you without ever telling you?
How is it that the wonder of life frightens me at unimaginable times?

How is it that I could love you without having to know you by heart?
How is it that we walked across the city without a word exchanged between us?
How is it that the cats and dogs sleep in silence?
How is it that the cat waits by the veranda, overlooking the park and my lonely silhouette?
How is it that I had no choice but to imagine life in the absence of my very beloved?

How is it that you shall remain a mystery to me, for the rest of the times that we will meet and fall for each other?

How is it that the night continued to be special, without you by my side?

Why Act Three?

A month or two into our friendship, Leslie sat me down to tell me a story. "I don't tell this to many people," she prefaced.

It was a practiced story, I could tell, by the way she moved from plot point to plot point neatly and linearly – by the way she elaborated on the most distressing things as if she were reading from a moving, but familiar, book.

I was 21 then, and Leslie 20. If Leslie freaked when she found out I was a senior – I think her word was "immature" – I often stood in awe of the centeredness she possessed for her age.

In listening to her story, I learned that at the age of 20, she had already lost a mother and moved to another country, adopted a new culture. She had not only scrambled to survive, but worked hard to succeed. She seemed to have gone through more at that age than what some people will experience in a lifetime.

Leslie has an affinity for the literary, appropriately, because her life sometimes reads like a story. She asked me to think of a title for her blog. I thought, if her childhood in Taiwan was Act I of her life, and her maturation into adulthood in the U.S. was Act II, then her return to Taiwan and her search for a place to plant her feet makes a pretty compelling Act Three.


I can only say that I'll be here to read it.

—Andy

Incomplete

When life gets difficult, I forget what it means to be special. I forget the light and the gift people see in me. I forget how powerful language can be. I forget what I have in me that draw the extraordinaire to me.

The very truth is that I am terrified. I am scared out of my mind about what is to become of this life, about living a life with regrets, about going straight ahead without having the direction mesmerized.

I forget easily. Too easily. I forget to stride ahead, with my head tilted upward, with a fearless look, with undefeatable confidence. I forget life goes on, I forget people love, I forget to love.

But when life gets difficult, what do I know? What do I really know that will possibly make a difference in my life? Change me, move me, become the better part of me? What do I know about being distinguished? About being the one in control? About being powerful? About being strong?

But the truth no longer matters, the cold harsh truth. It no longer matters.

I have a story to tell. So that’s how the story began.
I may or may not give the whole of myself. To you. To a faithful reader as far as you.

I may not tell the truth. About myself. About how life works in wonder. About how they have changed me, about how I have been convinced that life isn’t always about just me.

I may or may not tell the truth. I may or may not give the whole of myself to you, to someone as far as you.

I have a story to tell. So I began the story, about the loves found and lost along the way, about the men and the women, about how the world was changed overnight, in an instant, about the grownups, the children, the father.

Were you entranced? Were you fascinated? Were you heartbroken?
Would you have understood?

I am not yet ready to speak with you, to speak to you as if nothing has happened, as if the hurtful conversation never took place, as if life really could go on this easily, as if the world has not yet crumbled beneath our feet.

I am not yet prepared to deal with the brokenness that you made me feel, the defense you had against me, the silence, the drama, the questionable infidelity.

I am not armed.
I am not teamed.
I am just me, alone, silent, feared.

I am not ready to apologize, to go away, to turn my back on you.
Nor am I ready to be healed, to love in spite of myself, to forgive.
I am not anyone else.

"She was just like everyone else, she endured her loneliness in silence, tried to justify everything she did, pretended to be strong when she was feeling weak or weak when she was feeling strong..."

- Paulo Coelho in the Eleven Minutes

I wonder if you would see in me what I see in myself

I wonder if you see me in what I have always seen in myself

Dreaming is very pleasant as long as you are not forced to put your dreams into practice. That way, we avoid all the risks, frustrations and difficulties, and when we are old, we can always blame other people- preferably our parents, our spouses or our children- for our failure to realize our dreams.

- Paulo Coelho

I knew Coelho was talking about me instantly, speaking to me right in my face the moment I had the book open. I could easily be Maria, through her travels, her adventure, the heartbreaks. I too had spoken about the decisions that I had made, the dreams I had woven myself into, the disappointment and the loss that Maria had no choice (did she really not?) but to go throug life with.

It isn't supposed to be fair, so that's how they had life understood.

"Some people were born to face life alone, and this is neither good or bad, it is simply life. Maria is one of those people."

- Paulo Coelho

「我是一個敏感的小孩，很容易受傷，但卻不知道怎麼解決。」

「我好想回家，卻不知道怎樣才能讓爸媽快樂。」

「我的人生不是為了追求完美。他[哥哥]追求的是潛力極限，我追求的是人活生生的一面，人各有生存之道。人生的風景各有險峻，我可能是誤入歧途，辛苦，可是能看到奇花。」

─ 焦安溥

When you really want something, the universe will conspire to help you get what you want. Make it happen for you.

What does the world want from me?

Why am I here?

Why does the world need what I have to offer?

I wish you love

An all time jazz favorite. The music takes you to a mysterious place. It's fascinating.

I Wish You Love

Artist: Rachael Yamagata

I wish you bluebirds in the spring
To give your heart a song to sing
And then a kiss, but more than this

I wish you love
And in July a lemonade
To cool you in some leafy glade

I wish you health
And more than wealth
I wish you love
My breaking heart and I agree
That you and I could never be
So with my best My very best
I set you free

I wish you shelter from the storm
A cozy fire to keep you warm
But most of all when snowflakes fall

I wish you love
But most of all when snowflakes fall
I wish you love

I believe

眼前的黑不是黑 你說的白是什麼白
人們說的天空藍 是我記憶中那團白雲背後的藍天
─ 蕭煌奇

I have always believed that I would do great things. I would live an extraordinary life that becomes a legend to some. I would create, I would make wonderful things happen, I would inspire, I would be an icon, I would be proud. I would define the meaning of my life. I would fulfill. I would do them good. Make them proud.

I refuse to be treated any less than what I deserve.

給g

親愛的g,

寫封情書給你
但我的筆怎麼寫不出鍾文音的動人詞句
寫不出攝人的情感
寫不出過去 寫不出思念 寫不出每日的追憶

親愛的g, 我想像你漫步在大阪街頭
想像迎面而來的關西女子
想像你猜測你無緣的我的故事
想像你低問我的近況

親愛的g, 你懷念的是涉世未深 終日鬱鬱的我
在冬日積雪的草地駐著拐杖赤裸地奔跑
在波光粼粼的查理斯河畔旁與你相守
在離開舞會的接駁車上哭泣 承受白人男子輕挑的我

我親愛的g,
你是不需要時間經過，也可以讓我有答案的人，但我依然覺得生命有你很好很好。(鍾文音)

我最最親愛的g,
於是時間證明你是對的
你的預言 你的信誓旦旦 都是對的
我沒有一日快樂
謝謝你鼓起勇氣萬般殘忍的對待 在離別時吐訴所有你知道的真相
在另一個城市呼吸著我的空氣 變態地回憶我的殘缺
在陌生的日本女子身體 霸道地撫摸我 佔有我

親愛的g啊
你依然是我最親愛的 我萬般地思念你 萬般地渴望擁有你

我的親愛的
我該怎麼在浩瀚的時間洪流裡 這樣自私地擁有你呢

Crushed at last

I started writing online in 2002 when things at stake finally fell apart, fell into the open void that none of us could have any say. I wrote and documented the end of my loved ones' relationships, the crushed dreams, my crushed dreams, things that seemed to matter, things that brought us hope. I wrote and spoke about lives that I could have possibly changed, people that I would always love.

I continued to write in Japan, with L along side me. Strange as it sounds, L was there when I needed to hold onto someone. L stood by me, until the very last day. Yet, I continued to envy L. I questioned her right to be happy. I questioned everyone's right to be happy.

It ain't easy, honey. To live in anger and to live with so much hate.

I wrote to L. I missed her.
I always like to put it this way—L has and will always be in my thoughts.
L never responded. L hasn't.

The writing had to stop in 2004. I had to leave my sputnik sweetheart. I lost it in the world wide web. I let it go. I ended our relationship. I gave away my last source of comfort amidst a period of turmoil.

Dear God,
I don't ask very much from you.

Please. Do give me the strength to go on. Do give me the peace of mind that I am in a dire need for.

Dear God, you must understand. You must.
You must give me what I need. You must love me like how you love all the other children. You must give me the strength. You must love me.

I will then save myself. I will be able to. I will not mind the gaps, the hidden traps along the way, I will be strong enough to go on. I will fear no longer.

Dear God, I must have you in my heart. I must go on with you in my prayers.

And my loves, I will not give up on myself. I will continue to love you all, love them all. I shall not be crushed so easily.

Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.

- Winston Churchill

"There are still days when I pace my living room, crumpled paper at my feet, rejection letters tacked to my bulletin board. If I still smoked, there would be overflowing ashtrays. If I could grow a beard, I would have one. But I no longer have the fear that deep down I'm not supposed to be a writer. You don't get to decide those things. It's not about having a degree or winning a prestigious award or finding a respected mentor. It doesn't have to be about chapbooks and literary journals. How it works now is that if you're writing something someone else is reading, for better or worse, you're a writer. You just have to decide what you're going to do about it."

- Pamela Ribon in Bookmark Now: writing in unreaderly times.

讀鍾文音

站在邊界。我的生命課題。既不想孤單，也不想進入人群，這究竟是如何的邊界之邊界，我不得而知。

鍾文音

To be continued

It is all very strange, the things that happened, the stories that I never meant to share.

I had never imagined myself actually speaking these words out loud, let alone having an audience. But there she was, there we were, in the dim light, the small coffeehouse next to my place. She had told her story first, the words carefully crafted and almost forced. I knew she wanted an audience, someone to listen to her and comfort her for the loss and pains that she believed she had lost. For all the time that I’ve come to know her, I had never been the right person to tell the stories to. We have shaped our friendship around the things that we do together, the people that we meet together, the food, the jazz, the neighborhood that we live in.

I have learned my lessons after all. I have learned not to force feelings out, not to press for untold stories. I have learned not to care, not to mind too much business.

But it was that night, a night of magic, the time we had come to each other at the bus station that she chose to tell her stories, to someone as far as me. She had come to me with a hidden agenda, carefully disguised to fool.

She spoke of her pains, of her anger, of the desires.
That was when we fell into silence.
That was when I felt compelled to tell my story for the night to go on, for the connectedness that we felt to last.

There I was, there she was, in the dim light, the small coffeehouse next to my place. I spoke for the first time, of the inner fear, the weakness, the hurt, the pain, the losses, the regrets, the tortures, the self-tortures that went on every night, the hurt that stung on every bus ride to work. I spoke these words for the first time, to an audience.

She listened. She shook her head. She did not understand.
She did not understand the necessity of going this far for the punishment.
She felt for me. She felt for the pain and the losses. She felt the hurt and the fear. It was the tortures that she did not understand, the self-tortures that I had inflicted upon myself every night of the week, on every bus ride in the mornings.

I had never imagined myself actually speaking these words out loud to an audience. But there I was, there she was, in the dim light, the small coffeehouse next to my place. She had told her stories first. I told mine second.

天真的渴望

「我們也許都是多有貪求。可是，這會不會是因為，我們對這個世界還充滿了好奇與熱情？會不會是因為，我們在心中還擁有一些天真的渴望？一些如蔓草紋如纏枝花紋般的始終不曾消失的對「美」的夢想？」

席慕蓉

I would love you

If I could, I would tell you how much I love you
How much you've meant to me
How you've been important to me and how I act as if it doesn't matter
If I could, I would tell you in person
I would confess all my love for you
I would be in tears and I see you would too

If I could, I would tell you how much I love you
How much you've changed my life with and without knowing
How you and I have let each other down
If I could, I would tell you how much I love you in person
How I think about calling you every day of the week
How I've never picked the phone up

If I could, I would bring all of your children back
I would make us all happy
A big happy family
I would make things better, easier for every single one of us
I would make your worries go away
E would apologize, you would forgive
WY would be in tears, and so would I

If I could, I would love you with everything that I could offer you
I would not be afraid of you
I would speak to you with love and respect
I would take away the silver hair
I would understand how you've always felt about the story
How it really ought to have a very happy ending

Would it be?

Wouldn't it be nice?
Wouldn't it be nice to be happy?
Wouldn't it be nice to go through a day without any negative thoughts about anyone, anything?
Wouldn't it be to nice if I could do that effortlessly?
Wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to try too hard to be myself?
Wouldn't it be nice to not go home in the end of day wondering what you've said wrong today?
Wouldn't it be nice to be content and fulfilled for once?
Wouldn't it be nice if I could figure out what life really is about and why people upset me so much?

Is there any reason for me to not be happy?
Is there?
Is there any reason for me to cry over spilled milk?
Is there any reason for me to ever wonder if I deserve it?

Wouldn't it be nice to not feel stifled by dailiness? For once?
Wouldn't it be nice to get over the hurt in an instant?
Wouldn't it be nice if picking up the phone to call dad felt just like the right thing to do at the moment?
Wouldn't it be nice if the two weeks of having WY home could repeat itself too many times?

Wouldn't it be nice to not live in regrets?
Wouldn't it be nice if I found the passion for reading back?
Wouldn't it be nice if I eventually learned the ropes and mastered the tricks of game about life?

Wouldn't it be nice to not knowing how to doubt myself?
Wouldn't it be nice if I was not very good at it?

Wouldn't it be nice?
Would it?

我雖然沒有永恆的青春、不受污染的純真，但有經一事長一智的生命體驗。

─ 陳藹玲

"You can take the girl out of high school, but you can't take high school out of the girl."

灰塵萌生

時間在灰塵萌生的日子裡過去了
該打的電話仍擱置著
該醒悟的罪惡感仍時時刻刻地折磨著我們三姐妹
我常常想 這樣的糾結 這樣的大時代裡不該存在的誤解與尊嚴 何時可以離我而去 何時可以讓E在夜裡不再驚醒 讓W不再畏懼所謂的家

我也常想 是不是我不自量力 是不是我們不自量力
也許 這終究會是一個永遠打不開的結
也許 我們注定帶著它輪迴 帶著它生生世世
帶著它哇哇落地 帶著它喜怒哀樂 帶著它來到另一個家庭 擁有另一種人生
與它共生存 任由它寄生 束手無策

天母的百貨公司

這些日子以來我常想起A
想起那些互相陪伴的日子 想起彼此用苛刻的言語折磨對方的日子
想起她的夢想 一些永遠不會實現的夢想
想起在這樣寄生蟲般的依賴關係中舔舐傷口的我
想起高傲的她
想起天母百貨公司前的水泥地
想起妳我的足跡

這樣的思念 這樣殘忍的追憶 原來源自那天的天母行
原來只要回到舊地 還是只能無助地任由漫長時間背棄的過去椎心痛徹地
在公車上
在黑暗中
在白晝
在字裡行間
提醒你 曾有的過去 你丟棄的回憶
我唯一的選擇

The Wonder of Life

"The wonder of life is that even in despair, when things seem hopeless, you still get to choose who you want to be and how you respond. "

- Oprah
http://www.oprah.com/omagazine/200705/omag_200705_mission.jhtml

Inscription

I thought of A over the weekend. I thought about how the memory of her haunts me months after we parted and I bid my goodbye with her. I thought about how all this time I’ve never let go of her, how the thought of her still breaks me. I thought of resolving the issues with her or quietly within myself. Then the thought of having a pressing need to seek resolution with her frightens me. Why would I need to go this far for a moment of truth, a peace of mind with someone who should not matter in my life? Someone who has finally found her happiness and left me alone.

I thought of the sickening habit of me to make up imaginary enemies and how the negativity affects me in indescribable ways. I thought about quitting the habit for good. Then I imagined A with her fiancé walking through the food court in the department store, hand in hand. I imagined running into her and having to turn away. Then I couldn’t help but feeling the anger rising inside of me, running through my veins. I am angry at myself for thinking so much about A, for imagining her happiness, for her having her happiness.

I secretly wondered if she deserved her happiness. Even if it shouldn't be up to me to decide or even to doubt if anyone, if A deserves the kind of happiness she owns. The happiness she inscribed on her skin, on her fate. I wondered if she ever thought of me, if she thinks of me from time to time.

Our friendship remains

Wind blows.
Leave fall.
Seasons change.


Our friendship remains.

A dear friend sent me the card a couple days ago. The comfort and familiarity came just in time.

I realize I could no longer contain it within, all to myself, the need to say a few words for the departure of a friend whom I hold very close to my heart.


Not until the day of your departure and the weeks that followed did I start to feel a very strong sense of loss. You probably can't imagine this because I didn't see it coming either...that life here felt very differently without you...that this city all of a sudden doesn't feel like home anymore. I tried to recall the days that I didnt have you in the picture...and I remember how unhappy I had been back then.

聰明過份

Rereading the story years after our first read in junior high school...it surprised me how much the story still moved me and brought tears. 我的淚很快地流下來了Chang man-chuan put it well. Writing isn't always about big words or layered metaphors of how much one's heart aches. It's about touching someone else with the magic of simple words.
I thought of father while listening to Chang . I thought of father and guilt. I thought of WY and E. For sometime I even thought about sending them the story. I wanted someone to share the sentiment with me. I wanted not to be the only one being reminded of the wrongs we've done to each other. I thought about how we can make things better, how, finally, we learn to love without pride.
I did nothing about it. I didn't have the heart to send the story to the ones whom I know I can hurt easily, whose vulnerabilty reminds me of who I was and used to be everday.

朱自清 背影

我與父親不相見已有二年餘了，我最不能忘記的是他的背影。那年冬天，祖母死了，父親的差使也交卸了，正是禍不單行的日子，我從北京到徐州，打算跟著父親奔喪回家。到徐州見著父親，看見滿院狼籍的東西，又想起祖母，不禁簌簌地流下眼淚。

父親說，“事已如此，不必難過，好在天無絕人之路！”

回家變賣典質，父親還了虧空；又借錢辦了喪事。這些日子，家中光景很是慘淡，一半為了喪事，一半為了父親賦閒。喪事完畢，父親要到南京謀事，我也要回到北京唸書，我們便同行。
到南京時，有朋友約去遊逛，勾留了一日；第二日上午便須渡江到浦口，下午上車北去。父親因為事忙，本已說定不送我，叫旅館裏一個熟識的茶房陪我同去。他再三囑咐茶房，甚是仔細。但他終於不放心，怕茶房不妥貼；頗躊躇了一會。其實我那年已二十歲，北京已來往過兩三次，是沒有甚麼要緊的了。他躊躇了一會，終於決定還是自己送我去。我兩三回勸他不必去；他只說，“不要緊，他們去不好！”

我們過了江，進了車站。我買票，他忙著照看行李。行李太多了，得向腳夫行些小費，才可過去。他便又忙著和他們講價錢。我那時真是聰明過分，總覺他說話不大漂亮，非自己插嘴不可。但他終於講定了價錢；就送我上車。他給我揀定了靠車門的一張椅子；我將他給我做的紫毛大衣鋪好坐位。他囑我路上小心，夜裏要警醒些，不要受涼。又囑托茶房好好照應我。我心裏暗笑他的迂；他們只認得錢，托他們直是白托！而且我這樣大年紀的人，難道還不能料理自己麼？唉，我現在想想，那時真是太聰明了。

我說道，“爸爸，你走吧。”他往車外看了看，說，“我買幾個桔子去。你就在此地，不要走動。”我看那邊月台的柵欄外有幾個賣東西的等著顧客。走到那邊月台，須穿過鐵道，須跳下去又爬上去。父親是一個胖子，走過去自然要費事些。我本來要去的，他不肯，只好讓他去。我看見他戴著黑布小帽，穿著黑布大馬褂，深青布棉袍，蹣跚地走到鐵道邊，慢慢探身下去，尚不大難。可是他穿過鐵道，要爬上那邊月台，就不容易了。他用兩手攀著上面，兩腳再向上縮；他肥胖的身子向左微傾，顯出努力的樣子。這時我看見他的背影，我的淚很快地流下來了。我趕緊拭乾了淚，怕他看見，也怕別人看見。我再向外看時，他已抱了朱紅的桔子往回走了。過鐵道時，他先將桔子散放在地上，自己慢慢爬下，再抱起桔子走。到這邊時，我趕緊去攙他。他和我走到車上，將桔子一股腦兒放在我的皮大衣上。於是撲撲衣上的泥土，心裏很輕鬆似的，過一會說，“我走了，到那邊來信！”我望著他走出去。他走了幾步，回過頭看見我，說，“進去吧，裏邊沒人。”等他的背影混入來來往往的人裏，再找不著了，我便進來坐下，我的眼淚又來了。

近幾年來，父親和我都是東奔西走，家中光景是一日不如一日。他少年出外謀生，獨立支持，做了許多大事。哪知老境卻如此頹唐！他觸目傷懷，自然情不能自已。情鬱於中，自然要發之於外；家庭瑣屑便往往觸他之怒。他待我漸漸不同往日。但最近兩年不見，他終於忘卻我的不好，只是惦記著我，惦記著我的兒子。我北來後，他寫了一封信給我，信中說道，“我身體平安，惟膀子疼痛利害，舉箸提筆，諸多不便，大約大去之期不遠矣。”我讀到此處，在晶瑩的淚光中，又看見那肥胖的，青布棉袍，黑布馬褂的北影。唉！我不知何時再能與他相見！

1925年10月在北京

The only defence

"I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use - silence, exile and cunning."

- James Joyce 1882~1941

當光明出現的時候，黑暗就消失

當智慧跟慈悲出現的時候，痛苦跟畏懼也會自然消失

小情歌

珍妮花離開的前一晚 我們聚在一起 終於吃到了傳說中的尤氏羊肉爐
回程的一路上 嘉嘉和我很患難的分著一副耳機 重複的聽著這首小情歌
我們很有默契的決定 這一程路 從木柵到中山國中 我們都要一直聽這首歌
捷運上的座位 散亂著當天training的大畫本 斜放著的雨傘

有時回想哪一晚的歌聲 總會想起捷運車窗外飛逝而過的雨景
你知道　就算大雨讓這個城市顛倒 我會給你懷抱

到達萬芳醫院 駛過科技大樓站 來到了曾經狼狽萬分的大安站
就算整個世界被寂寞綁票 我也不會奔跑
還記得在某人的部落格讀到 筆者覺得那是個無比沉重及嚴肅的承諾
但是 這世界又怎會被寂寞綁票呢
是怎麼樣排山倒海的寂寞 竟可以冷酷的沒收所有情感
是哪些人 給了寂寞不屬於它的權力

我問嘉 離騷是什麼意思
是怎樣的心情 能將屈原的浪漫寫進二十一世紀的流行樂曲
而是怎樣的雨夜 能讓嘉和我為這一首歌心動不已

Change is the only constant, so they said…

I've always been a firm believer of the saying, “change is the only constant,” changes are for a better future, changes are actually good for you. Good for me.

Yet I have become the biggest skeptical of the thought these few days, for I am seeing changes in myself that are, if not, drastic, utmost unsettling in many ways. I am not understanding how I feel or how to come to terms with the uneasy feelings in the stomach. I am not doing very well.

Simply said, I am not myself anymore. I am not feeling like myself anymore. I am pushing people out, closing myself in, blaming myself and believing that I do not deserve true and graceful love.

As much as I resent the habit of criticizing myself for all the wrongdoings that happen in a day, I seem to be really good at doing this, at feeling like a failure anytime of the day.

I am never going to love myself, am I?
I am never going to believe that good love can come easily, am I?

I start praying to God for more strength and wisdom for I seem to be losing all of it. The simple act of mustering enough strength and wisdom to get me to the end of the day seems almost impossible.

The past couple days of all the madness of a wedding, of traveling for hours to get to the man who welcomed me with wide open arms, of returning to a most familiar yet strange work place, of hastily leaving with a bad taste in the mouth. It isn't unbearable. It was almost too easy. Things changed for no better reason. People left without much left to be said. Love lost and love found. How do I be certain of what it is that I am secretly wishing for? Amongst all the confusions and changes in the dailiness of life.

If getting to the last pages of the book among the 20 other books that I am also reading itself presents a challenge to me, how is it that I am asking to demonstrate disciplines?

不屬於我的80年代

Tears came from listening to this song again and again. I was born and grew up in the 80s, never get to enjoy the 80s though. I wonder what it was like back then. The good old days.


我的80年代　詞曲唱：雷光夏

那天吹來的風　穿過我的手中卻又不肯停留
它就轉身飄離　被握到你的手中
你也忘了　認真地對我說　究竟什麼相同
屬於我們的80年代 是你的笑容　或那首情歌和走不完的鋼琴前奏
鼓手們還在昨天　靜靜等候


一封未寄的信　春天綻放了花
清晨醒來時候　
是否你偶爾想起　那首未完的歌
認真地對我說　究竟什麼不同
屬於我們的80年代
是你的笑容　或那首情歌和走不完的鋼琴前奏
哭泣的音符　已被緊緊擁抱


離開得越遠越好　我那軟弱的夢　誰也不在那裡面
用我的美好思念　和你的過去相逢　在下一個時間


一封未寄的信　春天綻放了花
清晨醒來時候　是否你偶爾想起　那首未完的歌
認真地對我說　究竟什麼不同
屬於我們的80年代
而你的笑容已散失在風中

夢

這究竟是不是一場夢

親愛的你啊
你到底還是來到了我的生命中
我朝思暮想的你啊

我沒法肯定
你的出現 對我的生命究竟會造成什麼樣的影響
究竟你 是過客 抑或是注定
究竟我 是天賜 抑或是錯誤

這究竟是不是一場夢
一場太美好的夢

我的未來 是否可以現在確定

如影隨形

我不得不承認
我喜愛孤獨遠遠超越了與人群相擁
深愛 享受不說話的時刻
也許他們說的對 生命的本質最後竟是孤獨
寂寞的你我
孤單的你我
在大城中
在荒野
在橫跨浩瀚大海的飛機上

只有這個時候 我才能深切的感受到自己選擇的生活方式
我 到底 要的是什麼
我 到底如何看待自己

於是 我如同這個小島的每個人
買了保險 買了基金 告訴自己 從今天起 我也要好好的儲蓄 認真的理財
but what about my wildest dreams?
what about giving up everything else and pursue the lifestyle I've always longed for?
我可以想像
卻沒辦法接受

孤獨的感覺 如影隨形
昨天夜裡 於是我又孤獨的醒來 夏夜的炙熱 終將到來

再次提筆的原因

我想告訴你 再次提筆的原因
沒有很多華麗的原因 或特殊的契機
只是 心情繁雜時 是沒有辦法特別去注意到身邊的美好事物
取而代之的 是整日怨天尤人的心情 烏雲密佈的世界

而現在 這麼多年後 我終於第一次感覺到些許的平靜
你問我怎麼發覺的
我想 就是當我開始注意到腳下瘦小卻美麗萬千的花朵開始的
呼嘯而過的公車旁 是踩著碎步的小學生 嘻笑互鬧的高中生
在這陌生的台北城裡 第一次 感覺平靜
平日矮小雜亂的灰色房宅們
第一次透露著寧靜的氣息
第一次讓人感覺到美的存在

於是我知道　當我又可以感覺美的存在時　即是再次提筆的時候了

真正的美

「真正的美，都是有靈魂，有底蘊的。還要有信仰。」

─ 席慕蓉

一個答案

今天終於確認了這種感覺，這種長久以來我都沒辦法以言語 以思敘確認的想法
午休時 與T坐在狹小的會議室 翻讀著席慕蓉的日記，讀到席說的
「人與自然，彼此善待，在浩瀚的天地之間永存感恩之心，這就是游牧文化裡最令人疼惜與珍惜之處啊！」
我不了解游牧民族與其文化 但人需要流浪與自由的心情 不管是心靈的流浪 抑或身體的自由 這我是了解的
而那浩瀚的天地 一望無際的草原 狂放的風
又豈是我們能輕易的割捨的呢

我終於確認了這長久以來在心裡蠢蠢欲動的渴望
我不能 也沒有辦法 被這樣的人生 這樣的局面 限制 不能也沒辦法放縱自己的靈魂這樣的生活
外面的世界 其實我並不羨慕也不渴望
流浪也並不能給我一個像樣的答案
但 這樣的生活模式 這樣的生活內容 其實我是不愛也不能引以為傲的
我知道 習慣自由的靈魂 渴望創意的靈魂 值得給予自由

我不會這樣下去的
凝望著窗外密麻的矮房 聳立的大樓 無垠的天空
我默默的給了自己那長久以來在心裡蠢蠢欲動的渴望
一個答案

Fact and Story

David-

"Our assessments of others say more about us as observers than they do about the other person."

"Our description of the world is not the world but a description." (it's a story, not facts!)

"Once you accept the fact that life is difficult, it no longer matters that it's difficult. Then we are free to focus on satisfaction and fullfillment. Suffering and regret are the result of seeking to avoid what is difficult."

New friends

I must admit it's a rather strange feeling when new friends find me special for my spirituality. For god's sake, I almost wish they see me as a mediocre individual who lives a mediocre life. It is true that it feels almost unreal and unsurprisingly good when people regard you as someone who strives to be a better person. Yet the overwhleming expectations are almost unbearbale. Is the pressure I unwittingly put upon my shoulders not enough to stifle me and my will to be better?

For this, I never talk to them as much as I wish I should have. We had our moments, usually the first or the second meetings and they shall stay beautiful in memories.

再次離題

Dated March 10, 2007

I am too afriad to be in love again. Scared of losing myself all over again. For beautiful memories that will never save me from all the evils in this world. The moment I stopped knowing what word to use to describe how I felt, I knew I would never become a writer. I no longer know how to make myself understand in literal terms of exactly what is happening to me…what is happening to this world of mine? a world that fails to contain all my sorrows, confusions, senses of loss and insecurity, desires to be loved and to love, lust, longings to get away and to run wild… It failed me. Again and again. Until the moment that I lost faith in what this world promised to offer. At one point, it promised love and forever-ness.

沒有人可以告訴我 事情的真相 事情的結局
也許也許 你跟我會一直被隱瞞著 直到永遠 直到最後的最後
有一天 當我發現 我已無法精準的描繪我想說的話 我知道 我永遠也不會成為你所謂的小說家
我只能 靜靜的讀著他人寫的書 每一本每一頁 每一個字 彷彿在炫耀著他們的才能 他們的成就
也許也許 我就只能永遠這樣羨慕著愛慕著他們 這群所謂作家的男男女女