gracemonologue

11.06

2009-11-06T16:23:00.000-08:00

终于体会到在变老的过程中游荡不定是一件无比苍凉的事情。是什么使我无法咀嚼流浪的乐趣了；是什么让我觉得流动变成了一个固定的过程；又是什么让我觉得流浪就象看着过去和自己的影子一样渐性渐远。
南国啊，北国啊。

07.21

2009-07-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

不经意发现我偶尔在gym的跑步机上看的台湾电视台被称为“匪台”；这个称号当然是被我们这一代一腔热血支持台湾独立打倒大陆whatever政权的青年们所给予的。我能说什么呢，第一反应是乐不可支。当年被国民党用来骂共产党的词汇，现在被最憎恨国民党的民进党所赋予权威；重蹈国民党当年的敌对逻辑，最终证明了自己和当年的国民党是一路货色。真是反讽啊，不过身在仇恨其中的人当然感受不出来。我这“匪”也好“支那猪”也好，常常因为肯定台湾人民追求自我意识而被大陆同学围攻的人，在这燃烧着盲目且无止尽的的敌对中觉得很悲哀。

怎么中国人，或许是全人类，就是这么容易被意识形态洗脑呢。过激的独立意识，和文革的阶级论大清洗有什么区别；独还是不独，恨还是不恨，大家先把界限划清了再说。而过度的国家主义和民粹论，和当年的纳粹又有什么本质差异。打着progressive politics的旗帜操纵年轻一代对社会和人性的识别是无比可耻的；说的就是你，民进党。

和我这个年纪的人说宽容是很困难的一件事情，而我自己又曾经如何不是无比狭隘的人。我不否认到现在我还是很片面狭隘的人，在很多问题的看法上。如果没有Dr.Peggy Miller的ethnography课，我可能到现在都可能很直面地体会社会和文化因为有的不同力量和利益的驱使是多么复杂的一件事情；没有宽容是无法给与公正的。在无重多的历史过解中，选择仇恨和选择原谅宽容比起来多么轻而易举。然而只有当这种复杂性可以被社会所意识到，才可能有一种对台湾现在过度的简单对立情绪的集体反省。当然了，民进党现在所做的就是简单化现实和历史；只有塑造一个敌人民进党才能生存，就象没有对犹太人的集体仇恨纳粹就无法凝聚民心一样。

Gary曾经写了一篇台湾需要走出过度的悲情的blog文章，因为这种历史情绪是困解台湾当代政治的议题。我推荐给几个激进的台湾朋友们看，结果是一片寂静。造成这个结果有两个猜测，一是文章写得太抽象了，于是要把理论和他们水深火热的斗争联系起来是很困难的事情；要么就是他们不好意思把对整个中国大陆的敌对转移到我们个人的朋友关系上。当然了，最后Gary的那篇blog文章也因为种种争议而被删了。我又一次深深体会到，和在文章里structural的角度评论社会历史比起来，同个人谈论政治多么刀光剑影又滑稽无比。

我还是支持一切liberating追求自由的政治活动。只是如果所谓的自由一定是建立在伤害仇恨和曲解上的，就有了几分自私和邪恶的变质。好了，我闭嘴。我要做到下次看到支那猪这样的条幅就哈哈大笑，因为被讽刺的恰恰是台湾人民和历史。

07.11

2009-07-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

这么寒冷的夏天。我总是要么在冷气中哆嗦渴望一杯浮着热气的饮料，要么在阴湿下雨的路上懊悔没有穿长裤。

我好像想清楚了很多事情，这些让我觉得很自由。可是又好像新的想法又形成了新的围墙，把我包围在其中。

夏威夷的经历就象夏天的一股热浪一样转眼就了无踪迹了。在巨浪的余热中，我发现自己被遗弃在旧金山的机场里。晕头转向中，定睛往窗外看去，是有几分熟悉的深色的加州山脉，矗立在不可思议的碧蓝的天空下。

被热浪扫过的，还有学术界让人捧腹的对荣誉和头衔的滑稽的追捧。一定要牢记下次开会我就一杯接一杯地喝margarita好了。糊口么。把其看成神圣是贬低神圣作为一种感性的存在。

还是有几分怀念的，是从酒店的阳台上看到的夜晚的静谧的海景。party很吵闹，我很安静，有些醉，很释怀。

告别

2009-05-30T17:01:00.000-07:00

我的老师Gary在他的blog里记载如何重新做一个普通中国人的生活;种种很平常又很生动的事情,譬如做饭,清理永远也擦不干净的灶台角落,坐公车,等等.对于我这样每天对着福科特,布德莱尔,权利和国家意志,后现代的虚无性,之类的词汇发呆的人,读到这样描写生活的文章,心绪激动又低落地怀旧不已.这种感觉,当然比我偶尔在gym的跑步机上调到一个国民党的电视台,看一段骂民进党然后歌颂大陆经济建设的中文新闻所带来的猛然间仿若时空倒滞的感觉,要真切和私人化许多.而我的老师Gary描写他的生活的文字充满一种近乎顽强又天真的乐观主义的情怀;于是我看着他做的简陋的红烧鲫鱼和空心菜的照片哈哈大笑.

让我思考,我告别了什么.

这个暑假和图书馆的superviser斗智斗勇地玩捉迷藏的游戏，趁她不注意时再把研究文章偷出来写几行，所以也时常有戏剧性的片刻。输家当然都是我，一个星期内被她两次叫去谈话。她的桌子上贴着一幅马丁路德金的肖象，上面写着，"freedom is an expensive thing".所以我每每厚着脸皮被她训话的时候，都看着Martin Luther King深邃的面庞,深感他的先哲.

而我的告别是毫无英雄主义的潇洒的;捕捉不到又无比迟钝.告别的是对烧好一条红烧鱼的渴望,是对生活的细腻的回味和满足的能力,还有对大大小小的梦想的赞美.

资本主义社会把每个人都练就成一个商人,投资的资本就是时间.所以我总是在这篇文章需要细读么，还有没有时间可以多发表一个什么研究，可以给这个学生或者这个朋友多少时间交谈，等等的不断权衡中.于是吃饭就随便煮些意大利面浇上瓶装的西红柿酱就好了；要是有什么东西坏了，如果不是能买个工具或者叫上什么管理公司马上就能解决的，就会气急败坏地烦恼这些东西干扰已经制定好计划的生活。

我的生活中还有另外一个总是充满乐观和梦想的人,我的祖父.这些天来,我总是被祖父的健康状况的所带来的恐惧所深深困扰.我上一次离开北京的时候,是04年的春节,那个时候一心充满即将可以出国独立生活的希冀.寒冷的北京的冬天傍晚的天空,有象透明的橙汁糖果一样的温暖的颜色.我的告别就在那个瞬间定格了.一直等到前两个星期我放下祖父的电话,忍不住大声哭的时候,才明白其实我从来没有保存下我的告别.

或者是，在我费劲地和耳朵不好的祖父在电话中通话的时候，我突然无比清醒地认识到这可能是我和祖父真正的告别了；而他即将放下电话，而我即将不知所措地对待生活里一个又一个无法挽回的时刻。

我有些黯然。也许我需要的不仅仅是烧好一条红烧鲫鱼的热情。

我又重读，发现结尾很突兀。恩，突兀才象生活中的告别。

05.24

2009-05-24T20:52:00.000-07:00

我想念祖父。
非常非常非常非常。。。。。。
想念他混合着上海话的含糊不清的北京话。
想念他含糊不清地叫我seng(3) sheng (1)。
想念他握着我的手在沙发上看电视。
想念他早晨只允许我吃一片面包的早餐。
想念他带我看的每一场音乐会和艺术展出。
想念他滑稽而英雄地回忆家族的历史。
想念他总是给我梦想和希望。
我无法抵赖的想念。
过去混沌无知的时光。

他说你下次回国的时候一定要到北京来住，
下次是什么时候，多久多久以后。
他说上一次在小河湾见你你才刚上大学。
他说我的耳朵还是不好，半个聋子。
他说seng sheng要带博士帽，明年来看我。

我觉得身体里有什么东西哗地一下地崩溃了。
哗地一下。
长久以来建筑地愚钝的围墙，轻而易举地破碎了。
有些记忆我总是以为已经顽强地从生命里抹逝了，
然后它们就无比真切地涌来，嘲讽地证明我的天真。
因为他说，seng sheng要带博士帽，明年来看我。
爱是多么简单而温暖的东西，
我却总是因为胆怯而将其诋毁或遗忘。
到后来还发现，我因为太胆怯而无法承担的还有看着祖父变老逝去的重量。

在今后的日子里，我会一遍遍地悔恨。
直到我的记忆支离破碎，精疲力竭。
我有一个很卑微的愿望。
让我再回北京一次吧，在这个城市和我彻底无关以前。

05.20

2009-05-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

每件事情都变得急功近利。生活面目可憎。

帝国主义的怀旧

2009-05-01T12:02:00.000-07:00

“Imperialist nostalgia revolves around a paradox: A person kills somebody, and then mourns the victim” (Rosaldo, 1989; p.70)。At one more remove, people destroy their environment, and then they worship the nature. In any of its versions, imperialist nostalgia use a pose of 'innocent yearning' both to capture people's imaginations and to conceal its complicity with often brutal domination.

这个故事发生很久了吧，就是哪怕我说出有些人或事的虚伪性的时候，所谓的怀念总是给其道貌岸然的面孔。我也只能纸上谈兵地骂骂人罢了。这个世界。

I wanna some peace, please.

食

2009-04-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

这个月一直在写后现代主义和食物，于是也日有所思夜有所梦一下。

我一直不学无术的生活态度非常鲜明地体现在烧饭做菜这个方面。细致的江南菜是肯定烧不好的。什么榨菜要切得多细啊，火腿丝要什么时候放啊，想想就头痛。复杂的不说，我说的复杂，是指什么面拖黄鱼这样的在我看来就很繁琐了。简单的诸如糖醋排骨都屡屡失败。大概做得唯一好的是所有要用番茄汁的菜了；因为就是把番茄放到油里把汁水熬出来么，再加酱油和糖，Ratatui做的大概也就是这个吧。

可是我其实在厨艺方面还是很有创造能力的，具体体现在我不时地简单发明创造中。曾经有一天灵感一动把kimchi和cheese放在一起吃。我的室友Lindsey，一个难能可贵的吃kimchi的美国人，认为我这种吃法非常恶心。我却觉得kimchi单吃的话，有一种非常直白的辛辣的味道；而不是浸泡在橄榄油里的cheese也只有很单调直白的发酵的奶味。两种综合在一起倒是一个很奇特美味的混合体。

后来不知道冰箱里怎么多了一瓶有很多辣椒油的辣椒酱。我怎么能不喜欢辣椒酱，直到现在都记得9岁的时候第一次被允许在南京的街头吃臭豆腐。坐在我对面的比我稍大一些的女孩子，一直不停地往碗里放辣椒酱，直到一碗都是红通通的油和水。我看着她佩服得不行。问题是现在到哪里去找臭豆腐呢。于是我又想起了浸泡在橄榄油里的cheese。往cheese上倒辣椒油应该一样味美吧，过真如此，其实更胜一筹。有一种很nutty的flavor. 周围的不论美国人还是中国人都对这种吃法非常鄙夷，当然尼克除外。我只能遗憾地说大多数人都是服从主流的动物罢了。

一直在琢磨三文鱼这个东西怎么不生吃也能很好吃。我喜欢grill出来的那种，但即使是饭店里做的，也很少有很鲜美而多汁的，尤其是非野生的三文鱼。我想大概肉很柴是因为是放在锅里煎或烤的缘故，鱼肉是露在空中的。于是又加上我懒惰的本性，就把一整条鱼刷上豆豉酱，酱油，和糖的混合液体，包上锡纸，放到烤箱里去烤。连烤多少时间好像都没有仔细计算过。非常非常好吃，是我吃过的最好吃的非生吃的三文鱼。有一次Sain同学来家里作客，对此鱼赞不绝口。

在Purdue的时候，有一堂学hospitality的课要学生轮流带点心给班上的同学吃。班上的两个韩国女生做了Sushi。很好看，当然美国人也吃不出什么差别来，我一尝就勃然大怒。米是硬硬的，没有黏度的，sushi连鱼的味道都没有。这明摆着不是欺负美国人么。于是我决定自己动手做sushi，给美国人尝一尝。其实把米卷起来什么的都没有很复杂，但是中间要放什么很头痛。很难买到新鲜的生鱼片，买了美国人大概也不吃，我又讨厌那种人工做的蟹肉棒之类。最后放了Tuna salad，黄瓜，和胡萝卜。还有一种vegetarian的，我卷了雪梨片，黄瓜，和avocado。美味，就是懒人我只是很偶尔地要出席带菜的活动才会想到做，所以尽量地连这类活动都不参加。如果你有机会的话，一定要试试加雪梨片的，非常好吃。

我的导师卡拉和我在对美国单调平乏的食物很不满上步调一致。有一次我们在The Noodle's吃午饭，她点了marcroni and cheese。这种美国儿童最喜欢的pasta也是最最单调的，除了cheesy什么味道也没有。卡拉拿了放在桌子上的，为了假惺惺地见证The Noodle's是个非常全球化的饭店的，越南红辣酱浇在marcroni and cheese上面。临桌的美国人看得目瞪口呆，我们俩很没教养地对他们咧开嘴大笑，赤裸裸地嘲讽他们对食物的简单而程式化的认知。

我真罗嗦啊。

04.22

2009-04-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

我在跑；飞快地。
速度让我遗忘。
平静和快感不可思议地同时存在。
我在等待夏日里的阳光和距离带来救赎。

04.18

2009-04-18T12:20:00.000-07:00

我和卡拉，又不约而同地穿了相同颜色相近式样的裙子。在出发前分决定鞋子的时候发现黑色的高根鞋会彻底谋杀我摔伤的背部，我于是就换了双露脚趾的平底拖鞋；有伤风雅也罢，为了高度能做的牺牲是很有限的。幸又不幸地发现这成了那晚我和卡拉几乎唯一可以被区分的地方。所有人都说你俩怎么穿得一样，让我想起上次在费城领奖时的尴尬。

我就这样这么辍着拖鞋软着一身的骨头地到了颁奖现场。在停车场上碰到一群穿着丝绸首饰闪耀着各式光芒的本科生和家长；顿时觉得自己非常out of place。好吧，好吧，不就一奖么，要多么装腔作势才能为这件事本身怀有巨大激情啊。我从来就不是个景仰自己喜欢自己的人，对于很多给我的荣誉也时常莫名其妙。不满足，不平静，还有那么多问题和不安有待解决，谁来告诉我。

卡拉说，请允许我介绍格蕾丝羊。看来Martin Yan 还不够红，要不美国人总是分不清yan和yang的区别。卡拉又说，我和格蕾丝说了，我今天要是哭的话就给她买杯酒。我以为她又开玩笑来着。无论什么场合都要幽默玩笑才好，婚礼或葬礼，这样我们才能忘记来庆祝或者哀悼的初衷。“格蕾丝是个优秀的研究者，她在考完prelim之后还要求修课。。。。” 其实我不过就是觉得一个人写论文太单调了，如此而已。求求你，卡拉，不要再说了，我做研究是为了糊口，是为了把我无处可放的荷尔蒙和脑力安置到一个比较安全的地方罢了；说到底，都是自私的目的，没有什么为了全人类的美好未来而研究的高尚情操的。天哪，卡拉说着说着，声音竟然哽咽起来了，她竟然真的哭了，在众目睽睽之下。这是怎么一回事。我只知道我赶快抱住我泣不成声的导师，拉她下了台。

之后的reception我吃了一块lemon cake，甜得堵心的那种。好吧，闹剧也好，就这么结束吧。

04.16

2009-04-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Ice-skating. A big fall. Heavily. Painful, painful. Can't move or bent. Like a pregnant woman. Some price has to pay when I didn't care to learn it as a young child.

04.05

2009-04-05T17:57:00.000-07:00

两日内参加了一个葬礼，收到了两个婚礼的邀请。
生活么＝婚礼＋葬礼，夹杂在两者其中的都是哼哼叽叽不胜其烦的东西。
哼哼叽叽的人如我，对这两者都充满抑制不住的恐惧。

“归根结底，主题在于每一个人所怀有的秘密，不能诉诸语言的秘密、不能互相谈论的秘密。不，秘密本身不是主题。对于怀有不能互相谈论的秘密所带来的悲哀，别人根本无法消除，所能做的无非悄悄并排坐下而已。”

04.03

2009-04-03T15:23:00.001-07:00

每个人都不能自拔地一遍遍述说自己的痛楚，全然不顾这痛楚于他人意义。我和爸爸，没有了沟通的交集，有的是各自无限痛楚的空间。这述说和聆听同然全部是毫无诗意的事情，当两者完全被控制在迫切地又自私地寻求他人的理解的企图里。

Union里有一个亚裔男生用钢琴弹月光曲，不是很流利，非常自娱自乐。结结巴巴之处却很真实动听。他边弹边开心地笑，大概非常满意他吸引来的众多目光。深深浅浅的调子于是显得异常滑稽。可爱的小丑。

胡说八道

2009-03-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

Grace had her first job offer in life.
She also went to Shanghai 1938 tonight, and had 小笼包，溜肥肠，蟹肉面。
There are pictures of Shanghai in semi-colonial times on the wall, the absurd nostalgia of which makes her ponder.
She made a super big and messy chart of pros and cons for her new job.
Reviewing the chart again and again, she is more leaning towards turning down the offer, she guesses.
Yet she calls her "chicken" in the bottom of her heart, for some unknown reason.
She only has 3 more days to decide.
This unexpected thing is totally eating up her time, making her anxious, perplexed, and upset.
What the heck!

梦

2009-03-17T12:11:00.000-07:00

她时常会梦见祖母，梦见她们又被迫要分离。有时候这种分离不一定是徘徊在死与生的界限上的，但同样的是离别，同样的痛彻地不可避免和无法挽回。她不知道该如何描述这种撕心裂肺的感受；在日常生活中，不论失去什么－失恋也好，文章写不好也好，工作没着落也好－都是不痛不痒的，甚至不过是人生中无关紧要的一部分罢了；她都不会这般失落。

时间的进度让她有一些恍惚，她觉得她黑漆漆的梦里的伤感和醒来后阳光明媚的周围非常格格不入。她觉得很尴尬，因为她既不知道如何继续停留在梦里，任其无止境地延续，也不知道如何把自己完全投入到这盎然的春意中。或许，Freud在这点上是正确而没有夸张的，人在潜意识中总是在追求回归母体的，无论她是那个15岁的无处可逃的女孩还是现在26岁的这副皮囊。祖母的去世，象征着这个母体永远地失去了，她的生活就好像没有了原点一样，不知道从何开始，如何继续。好像把生活活生生地批成两半－母体的，纯粹的，原始的－都伴随着祖母的去世而消逝了。这也许是她青春的祭礼吧，只是太过于现实和血淋淋了。

03/15

2009-03-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

Here are the moments I feel that if I join in the fight, I'd only be possessed by spitefulness and bitterness, that I'd only become one of them. Yet I don't know how to stay untouched. It's perhaps not just these people that I'm dealing with, but problems of humanity at large - that these moments will never go away, that I have to fight hard to not let devil spirits control and command me, that I have to run really far away from my world to laugh at what happened with humor. Get it over,gal. Be tough under your skin.

Is there any other information that you would like to share about yourself?

2009-03-12T20:02:00.000-07:00

Grace is very thankful to the department's decision on this award. Oh, no, she has so many people that she must say “thank you” to - she is particularly grateful to the broad vision of research and thinking that her adviser Dr. Carla Santos brought her into, she also wants to say to Dr. Laura Payne that she can't imagine getting this far without dear Laura's help. She has been learning a lot to be herself throughout the years in graduate school – learning to be Asian and American (including introducing bizarre Chinese food, such as pork tripe stir-fry at Lailai's, to Carla), to be humble yet not bashful, to be innovative while solidly theoretical, to understand and appreciate the capabilities as well as limitations of humanity. Recently, she seriously falls in love with the deliciousness of lemon bar. =)

失眠

2009-03-06T21:45:00.000-08:00

我们都将年老，同下雨一样明确无误。

手套

2009-03-03T13:46:00.000-08:00

她在冬天即将结束的时候丢掉了她的手套；毫无征兆地。那是一双Ralph Lauren，黑色的，Suede皮的手套；带上去有一些小，所以总是紧紧地包裹着她的手指。她带着它们去电影院的时候，从来未曾想过会把它们遗失在某个未知的黑暗的角落。她确定它们已经不在她的生活中了以后，颇有一些惴惴不安。她想起了十八春里的那双手套，那双曼桢满心甜蜜地织的红色毛线手套，以及世钧在电影结尾的时候在黑暗的路上寻找手套的场景。那双手套是一个他们两个人爱情无法圆满的符号，一个bad omen。那么，她遗失手套是否也有什么隐约的莫可名状的含义呢。

她写信给逸鸿，告诉他手套丢了；她5年前在芝加哥错买的手套，本来是逸鸿托付要买给yy的手套。逸鸿当然没有回信；恩，不知他是否还记得这双手套；即使记忆犹存，说不定对他而言也是卑微的小事一桩罢了；抑或回想起5年前发生的事情还有尚为青春的感情是很沉重的一件事情，所以还是不假回应地好。

没有了手套，她有些孤单，就好像人丢了影子一样。有时候她还是会习惯性地在出门前往包里寻摸手套；并且，当她站在商店柜台前试图买一双新的时候，却发现自己没有办法喜欢上不同的手套；也许记忆中，她还是在抵触这种流逝。可是，流逝的究竟是什么呢，是毫无重量的青春么。

梦里

2009-02-19T13:45:00.000-08:00

不知道为什么，昨天晚上梦里梦到了The Revolutionary Road里的背景音乐。有一点Jazz的吧，一个男生的声音在反复地有些悲怆地回旋“I love you, I love you, I love you...” 脑海转瞬即逝出现Leonardo追逐在Kate身后在夏日的树林里奔跑的画面。我喜欢那部电影的色调和美感的；是介于The Bridge of the Madison County和花样年华之间的视觉和音乐效果还有说故事的方法，没有前者的那么灰蓝色青铜色的清冷，也没有后者那么世界末日般的昏黄。

总之，不知为什么，我就开始重温这个故事，在半梦半醒之间。然后我突然又无比迟钝地意识到原来这又是女性被男权社会迫害的故事。对吧，当Leo被社会赋予男性的财富和头衔所引诱的时候，放弃梦想的时候，他其实已经剥夺了Kate继续怀有希望地生活的权利，宣判了Kate的死刑。只是当这死刑是由她深爱的Leo来宣判的时候，这层死亡的意义变得格外悲哀，对两个人都是。当然其中还有拿人道主义的幌子做的对女性生产自由的压迫；原来不论什么美好的主义，既使是人道主义，这反对对人性的压迫的上层建筑，也是可以被自私地荒谬地利用来成为压迫的源头的。

我不知道如果在生活里我被放到Kate的角色里会怎么办；可能我连一死了之的决心和勇气都没有。对于我这样在春天里的黄昏里凝视着太阳，想想晚餐有糯米芒果，还有明天可以收到色彩明快的毛衣，就觉得生活很美好的人；这般贪恋生活的琐碎的质感；即便生活马马虎虎也罢，也不值得以死来换取生命大义的人；大概肯定是没法活出象Kate或者Virginia Woolf这样的伟大来的。

中学的时候最喜欢读的书是Marguerite Duras 的 The Lover。记得第一段里写到“我爱你这备受摧残的容颜”；这就是用来形容现在的Kate Winslet的。这张刻上岁月的脸比Titanic里那个粉粉的玫瑰色的脸要深刻美丽得许多。

这些都是我半梦半醒之中想到的。在梦里我是个自己和自己对话，很有意思的人。

F

2009-02-16T23:16:00.000-08:00

3岁的时候在幼儿园里被男生欺负，脸上留下了一道很小的疤痕。奶奶和妈妈焦虑万分，“你一个女孩子，男生欺负你，你就赶快找老师，你怎么能斗得过人家。女孩子啊，将来是要嫁人的呀，留下来疤怎么办。。。。。。。” 三岁的时候，很多小孩长相上都还不大分得出性别的时候，就知道女生被男生欺负是经常的事情。至于处理的方法，女孩也是不能直接回击的。母亲们，可能是很无可奈何地，在女儿们很小的时候就把这个性别的弱者观念灌输给她们了，虽然有时候出于的动机是在这个等级观念下寻求保护。目的么，是为了培养让女儿们将来可以心安理得地生活在这个限定下性别规范的世界上的心态。

16岁的时候，彪悍的物理老师，江北人，会时常上课的时候轻蔑地说女生脑子笨之类的话；宛若数理化是男生的神圣的领地；宛若数理化是那闪耀着光芒的代表着未来的科学；语文历史都是多愁善感陈旧而没有实际意义的东西，只有女生才喜欢。她面对这样的老师，很戏谑地想既使她努力做个很擅长数字的人，也难以消除他对整个群体的的歧视。女人么，这种奇怪的非理性的动物，只有在某些领域里的存在才是正常的。后来，她20多岁的时候，和在德国的伟大女性工程师二毛－曾经总是慷慨地借她数学作业抄的二毛－在msn上对话的时候，二毛说工程对女性来说要付出许多的努力而得不到相应的尊敬以至于觉得错选专业的时候，她不知道如何安慰泄气的二毛。

20岁的时候爸爸到她的大学附近开会。那是她上大学后，第一次见爸爸。秋天的一天。她穿白色毛衣还有蓝色的裙子。爸爸很高兴，因为她的形象受到了他的同事们的高度赞美，还因为她的形象非常地反映知识分子家庭对女儿的期待。其实她知道她是去做花瓶的，父亲肯定和她说不上几句话的，但是她还是兴冲冲地做点缀来了。至于她的爸爸，当然不知道不是什么白毛衣和蓝裙子都能搭配出这样的效果的；需要的是高领的这般质地的毛衣，还要有这样图案的裙子，等等。回去的路上，她有些茫然；她不知道自己从什么时候开始，学会了在各种不同的具体的场合扮演社会所期待的女性的角色的；学会女人要是想受到重视，需要首先从视觉上取悦男人的规则的；学会心安理得地做那个不说话，微笑就行了的角色的。她内心深处很唾弃自己，但是实际生活中上她又没有力量和这样的社会准则决裂。

后来她26岁的那个V-day在BR的店里帮助Wendy选面试要穿的西服，和Wendy这个尚未体会到男权社会无处不在的隐形的压迫的天真女孩。既然有一个即定的功利的目标，她忍不住在一旁指手画脚地建议很琐碎的搭配原则－blazer里面要配一件可爱一点的女性化一点的shirt；裙子比裤子要好看的，其实不仅仅因为更professional。Wendy进进出出试衣间，她站在外面发呆，突然间感到有些凄凉。真的有一点。什么时候，她竟然开始扮演这性别社会信息的传递者了；她不仅自己服从，还助纣为虐。她是，更刻薄一点，站在男权社会的审美观的角度直接对Wendy构成压迫的那个人，那个逼着Wendy花了两个小时选购一套取悦他人的衣服的人。然后她还可以找出种种正大光明的理由为自己辩护，帮助社会一起来践踏Wendy的天真可爱之处。她真希望她不是她自己。

她在美国见过许多radical的feminists，教授或者学生。她的领域有趣也就是在于此，各式各样的人都可以遇到。她最初的时候对那些留着超短的头发，讲起话来异常坚定，每句话说出来都象绝对的真理一样的女生，非常景仰。很快，她就从她们过激的反应中觉察到一些不对。就好像性别本身成了一道伤疤一样，她们所做的每一件事情本身都是提醒伤疤的存在，结果最后自己反倒成了这性别的slave。让我们承认吧，人性是比性别更复杂深刻的，何必让性别成为解释一切事物的动机呢。当然了，她也不曾试图去和她们辩论，因为至少她们是有勇气反抗的女性。

她希望有一天，她的导师在系里又不公正地对待了什么学生或者导师自己的时候，可以大声对系主任说"screw you"，就象很多男教授常常做的，而不用回到办公室辗转反侧地想斗争计谋；当然她希望自己也有一天可以这样。她还有许多希望，虽然这些好像都不是在短时间里可以达成的。至少在这点上她还是天真的。

Mrs Dalloway decides to buy flowers herself。How long exactly was it ago?

msn也有有意思的时候

2009-02-11T20:59:00.000-08:00

Yuhan says: (10:10:29 PM)
对了，做老师做出啥体会来了？
grace says: (10:10:43 PM)
学生们喜欢简单的考试
Yuhan says: (10:12:05 PM)
这个你做学生的时候没体会出来么。。
grace says: (10:13:11 PM)
还喜欢讨好我。。比如说今天他们做presentation的时候放了一张亚洲哪里的picture在slide上面，然后说中国真漂亮。。。。。我说，同学们，这是日本，不是中国
Yuhan says: (10:13:41 PM)
嗯。我一般说老师真漂亮。
Yuhan says: (10:13:45 PM)
不会出错。
grace says: (10:14:52 PM)
哈哈哈。。。。女老师都喜欢你吧
Yuhan says: (10:15:19 PM)
嗯。。没碰到什么女老师。
Yuhan says: (10:16:20 PM)
数学系老师90%是男老师。而且一个个长得都像古代画上那种罗汉。
grace says: (10:17:37 PM)
你这学期忙么
Yuhan says: (10:17:47 PM)
不忙
Yuhan says: (10:18:01 PM)
系里秘书搞错了，没给我注册上TA，搞成RA了
grace says: (10:18:14 PM)
你怎么老说这种让我很羡慕的话
Yuhan says: (10:18:27 PM)
哈哈哈
Yuhan says: (10:18:48 PM)
我老板很不爽，我也只好拉下脸来不要太得意
grace says: (10:19:15 PM)
为啥，RA不是帮助他做提高科研成果么
Yuhan says: (10:19:38 PM)
嗯，我们的规矩是，不管给不给你RA都是要做research的。
grace says: (10:27:05 PM)
天气暖和起来我们和Wendy一起去喝酒吧。。。如果在那之前我还没有壮烈阵亡的话
Yuhan says: (10:27:24 PM)
哈哈，好好好
Yuhan says: (10:27:45 PM)
下次该尊称你yan老师了
Yuhan says: (10:27:59 PM)
对了你是颜还是彦？
grace says: (10:28:36 PM)
。。。。。你有没有发现你是很自恋的一个人
Yuhan says: (10:28:50 PM)
嗯，早发现了。
grace says: (10:28:53 PM)
我的是严
Yuhan says: (10:28:58 PM)
哦。
grace says: (10:31:26 PM)
比如说，你很早以前就告诉过我你的名字是具体哪几个字了，并且是很自豪很认真地；然后从来没问过我的名字。。。。:p。。。当然了，这个在完全字母文化的社会里也不是很重要
Yuhan says: (10:31:59 PM)
噢。。如果以这个推断那就是你误会了。
Yuhan says: (10:32:04 PM)
虽然我的确很自恋。
Yuhan says: (10:32:34 PM)
但没问你名字是因为我没认识你之前很长时间以为你是外国人
Yuhan says: (10:32:47 PM)
然后认识之后心理上一直没改变过来，所以习惯用你的英文名字。
grace says: (10:32:49 PM)
。。。。。。。我，我，我
grace says: (10:33:04 PM)
你真狡猾啊
grace says: (10:34:42 PM)
为啥我是外国人
Yuhan says: (10:35:18 PM)
觉得像。
grace says: (10:35:58 PM)
当男生的直感没有办法用理性来解释的时候，通常都是错的
Yuhan says: (10:36:28 PM)
哇。。这话好精辟。。
Yuhan says: (10:36:40 PM)
但我当时还是觉得你是外国人。
grace says: (10:37:07 PM)
我也觉得你是ABC来着
Yuhan says: (10:37:52 PM)
你这是赤裸裸的报复行为。。
grace says: (10:38:05 PM)
是真的，我没骗人
grace says: (10:38:28 PM)
在听到你说中文以前
Yuhan says: (10:38:28 PM)
好吧。。所以你看，女生直感没有办法用理性来解释的时候也是错的。
grace says: (10:38:50 PM)
我没有那么肯定就是
grace says: (10:39:42 PM)
我的通常都是对的，就是在你身上出现了一个很小的例外罢了
Yuhan says: (10:40:02 PM)
切。。
grace says: (10:42:02 PM)
哈哈，章同学那次玩Katan是不是很不好意思让女生输。。所以你输了两次
Yuhan says: (10:42:52 PM)
没。。是你们俩太黑了。。
Yuhan says: (10:43:04 PM)
都不给我任何发展余地。。
grace says: (10:45:06 PM)
后来我和Wendy都觉得要是有其它的男生一起来玩，你大概会更aggressive一些吧。。。。
Yuhan says: (10:46:29 PM)
你没看我上来选位置都想好久嘛。。
Yuhan says: (10:46:41 PM)
只不过一放下房子就被你们阻断了。
grace says: (10:47:56 PM)
那我权且相信你就是这么笨的吧。。。。哎。。
Yuhan says: (10:48:35 PM)
-___________-
grace says: (10:56:33 PM)
我可不可以把我们的部分对话发表在我的blog上面，因为有些话让我很忍俊不禁
Yuhan says: (10:56:48 PM)
-__________________________-
Yuhan says: (10:56:54 PM)
有没有稿费？
grace says: (10:56:59 PM)
切。。。。。
Yuhan says: (10:57:07 PM)
好吧。。既然严老师要求了
Yuhan says: (10:57:10 PM)
我就许可了吧。。

我和orange＊芝加哥＊流水账

2009-02-09T08:24:00.000-08:00

世界很小的。我上大学的时候还参加什么英语演讲比赛来着。好象拿了第二名吧，竟然是我这种生性羞涩的人。那个时候orange比我长一届，英语系的。她是第一名的，呵呵。后来我们两个毕业后都相继去了Purdue，Orange比我早一年。于是当我在Purdue校园里第一次看到Orange的时候，她问我大学的时候有没有参加过英语演讲比赛；我才恍然大悟地觉察出为什么orange看起来那么眼熟。后来我们在同一年离开Purdue，去了同一个州的两个足球比赛时是对手的学校读博士。再后来就是博士读得相对平稳轻松，结果到快毕业的时候我们同时对未来的事业开始产生彷徨；各式各样的云团照在头上。用orange的话说，这种疑虑就象来月经一样，每隔一段时间就要发作一次；我何尝不也是这样。

我prelim的writing part考完的那个周末去了芝加哥。我们约在城北的小中国城见。远远的，orange穿湖蓝色的blouse，白裤子，肩上有橘色的超级大包，向我挥手。中国城么，总是那么一个古怪奇特的综合体；视觉上的，气味中的，舌头上的；无不让人既向往，又恨不得马上转头跑掉。每每当你以为你走在历史中，走在1910年广东的某个小镇上的时候，前方斑驳厚重的墙上就有一幅极为艳俗的香港现代歌星或者某个越南电视剧的广告在等着你。我总是无一例外地被这些时刻击中，停下脚步，心里感叹一番这种莫名的又不可避免的时空的交错。后现代说文化是分裂的不协调的，那些学家们都应该来看一下当代的在美国的中国城，体会一下后现代所言的极是。

我们在一家泰国餐馆里吃午饭。饭后的甜点是糯米芒果；我这个凡是有糯米的东西就难以自制的人认为这是我吃过的最好吃的糯米甜点。然后orange说，我们去周围的地方转转吧。其实周围有一个很有意思的community，曾经是一个早期瑞典移民的community,现在变为同性恋者community了。芝加哥去得再多，我印象中也不过是downtown的那些高楼大厦，magnificent mile，全都是些光鲜亮丽的地方。这个community让我想起上海的陕西北路那样的地方；不远处是高耸的高楼大厦，眼前确是窄窄旧旧的路，有人在骑自行车，街旁有晾着的红红绿绿的衣服，有卖关东煮的小小的seven-eleven，还有现代版的王琦瑶们走在街上。总之那个community，我已经忘记其名字了，就是这样的地方；生活的气息是如此这般琐碎而亲切地传达的。于是我穿着黄T-shirt,白裙子，蓝色夹趾凉鞋，大摇大摆在街上走，也很惬意，和周围的风格也很般配。那里多多少少还是有一些Swedish留下的痕迹的，比如说有些人家的花园里有北欧风格的雕塑，有Swedish的bakery。我记得还有一家feminist bookstore，下次去一定要进去看看。

那天风很大；当然了，芝加哥么，哪有一天风不大。一件让我想到就笑出声的事是我和orange本来肩并肩地走在后面，结果发现orange的Robert同学频频回头来看我们。他大概是怕我讲着他听不懂的语言，会花言巧语地把他心爱的女朋友给骗走。后来他忍无可忍，和我们走到一起，一把抓住orange的手。我和orange的谈话也只能从中文换成英文。这般依恋女朋友的男生，我凭生还是第一遭遇到，不禁有一些束手无策。就在我发现我不知为什么开始给他们很局促地解释起我的prelim的时候，我发现对面走来一个好像很熟悉的身影；竟然是我文化心理学课上的土尔其同学。她的研究课题很有意思，是关于土尔其街上的流浪儿童的；她还有各式各样颜色和图案的让我羡慕的围巾。寒暄一番。其实我们在小小的Champaign从来都没有在课下遇见过，竟然在芝加哥的不知道哪里的角落遇见了。所以不是世界太小了，而是有些事情太偶然了。

昨天orange在msn上面说robert找到faculty的工作了，等我月底去西北的时候大家一起开party庆祝。我说那么我去芝加哥是一石四鸟了，或者夏天同学会说三石四鸟也不一定。回来我再补一篇流水账游记吧。

生活，生活。啦拉，我爱生活。

To Simon

2009-01-30T12:25:00.000-08:00

Ten minutes ago, you were that little devil, running around wildly, screaming hard, naked, waving a lightsaber in your hand, hitting Tahoe without saying sorry.
Now, you are lying in my arm.
Quietly, sweetly, curiously.
You asked me to read story books.
We read one after another.
"The firefly thought he has found a friend,
but it was a candle burning in the night;
The firefly thought he has found a friend,
but it was a torchlight shining in the night;
....... "

You let me caress your blond hair.
You let me kiss your soft soft skin.
Maybe someday, I can make a good mom, too.
I said, "I love you, Simon."
You said, "I love you, too."
I looked at you in the eyes; how much I hoped that you would always remember this moment.

On your first day of school, you told your school teacher proudly that you had two friends- one was Sam, one was Grace.
You were the funny boy, who, when the Chinese food-deliver guy showed up at the door, angrily turned away, as you found out it was not Grace who was coming.
Man, I laughed so hard.
To you, the Chinese is Grace. Everything about China and Chinese noodles are just Grace's properties.
One day, you'll find out that on the other side of the world, there's a vast land called China. On that land, there are several billions people who look just like me.

I wonder how you will be like in 20 years.
You'll wear a leather jacket, starting your own rock band.
You'll ride a motorcycle, with your girlfriend sitting in the back; her hair flung in the air.
You'll wear a big bag pack,touring around Tibet alone.
You'll be a lot taller than your mom.
You and her stand in front of your college dorm; you hug her and tell her to not worry.

You know, Simon, when I was watching the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I thought of you.
I understand the feeling of that father who can't stay beside his daughter, watching her growing up.
Life is all about time. Nothing is more truthful than that.

I love you, Simon, and will always do.

故事

2009-01-23T13:47:00.000-08:00

库切的字典里，青春是很多很多种不同的失落的混合体。

他和她最后一起做的一件事情是一起吃了一顿晚饭，在他的公寓里。其实他们一起的时候好像除了吃饭，什么也没有做过。

那个时候她23岁。23岁什么样子的，就是大把大把的青春都无知地写在脸上的，装老成都装不象。她下课的时候站在系楼门口发呆，会有本科生过来搭讪 "嘿，我们好像在哪里见过的吧，可以要你的电话号码么。" "同学，你是几年级的，知道么下学期我可能是你TA." 当然了，本科生的回答通常是"you must be kidding"，用北京话翻译过来就是，”您别逗了“。别逗了，看她一眼，就知道青春这个东西在燃烧的时候是多么地无可遏制了。

他们第一次遇见的时候，他穿淡蓝色的衬衫。他听到她的年龄，惊讶得脱口而出 “I'm too old for you"；她不知道这句话意味着什么，一直到现在。那一刻，她以为他们会有一个很幽默的开始呢。她的无理性的青春在他的温和冷静面前变得更加没有头绪，有的时候，连她自己都开始为自己的青春而羞愧。比如说，那个时候她还觉得读Amy Tan是很有意思的事情，他听了只是温和地微笑；最后在她说了无数次Amy Tan之后，他说，Tan的小说往往落入a white guy saves Chinese woman的俗套。她愣住了，很尴尬，第一次无比清晰地感受到他对她无知的容忍。

毕竟，她又知道什么呢，关于他，关于世界，关于他们。她甚至都不知道除了她的青春之外，有什么可以让他迷恋的地方。她不假拒绝地把所有的感情放在心里；因为只有这样这感情才是安全的。她沉浸在暗涌地对他的迷恋里，她记得他的灯光下的脸庞，笑起来的眼角，拿刀叉的手。在反复的回忆里，这一个个很琐碎的时刻被晕染开来，被无限地放大，有了一种很温软甜蜜的美感。

她希望他永远不曾告诉过她关于他的日本未婚妻，因为至少那样她还可以安静坦然地想念他。她不知道他有没有从她当时煞白的脸上看穿过她的失望。她找了个借口离开了，推开门，看见她曾经最喜欢的那棵在门口的树，连叶子都还是完整得绿的。你看，生命还是那么美好的；究竟什么才是残忍的，时间么。一个人就是这样赎回青春的尊严的吧，她想。

他要离开了。他说，我们一起做一顿晚饭吧。为了证明自己足够地坚强，她同意了。她坐进他的车的那一刹那，就立刻明白做了个自己和自己过不去的决定。他们象情侣一样去买了鱼和蔬菜，一起做tuna-salad sushi。把海苔和米铺在卷sushi的竹子做的roll上面，再放上tuna salad，卷起来。做的时候，她想，这个在他的日本未婚妻看来大概象办家家一样不专业吧。

那天晚上他说了很多话，说到他的父母在台湾的时候是受日语教育的。说到台湾本土的风俗很爽气的，男人都要大碗喝酒的，这个和她印象里的台湾人很不一样。还有他的中文是在上大学的时候自学的，包括阅读。爱这个字很奇妙，一旦说出来就轻谩其自身了；所以她一定一定要守住这道防线。她还想幽默地开几个玩笑，把这离别的厚重给轻描淡写开去。这两种心理混杂在一起，造成的效果就是一个晚上她都欲言又止。再后来他楼住她的肩，照了一张照片。

多年后的今天她又看到那张照片，发现照片里的她当时看上去很木讷，大概是当时有太多的情绪沉淀在一起了。她想像如果她现在可以重新照这张照片，她是否可以很轻盈地笑着面对镜头。

爱情么。

垃圾箱

2009-01-21T21:02:00.000-08:00

说这个国家什么都是大的，以大为美，是不公道的。但是她楼下的那个深褐色的，倒梯型的，垃圾箱真的是巨大无比。比她要高出许多，每次她把垃圾扔进去的时候，要抬起头，才能看见那堆满各种颜色的易拉罐，纸盒子，还有白色塑料袋的顶端。

垃圾箱么，总是散发着各式可疑的气味的，让人联想到不愉快的画面的。所以她总是把垃圾放下然后就匆匆地离开了；有时候，离开的时候，心里还偶尔会有一丝解脱的感觉。她这种看到东西太多太乱心里就会莫名地堵得慌的人，扔掉垃圾就象解除一个包袱一样。和记忆不同的是，垃圾是扔掉就扔掉了，毫无留恋地，不用顾虑其将来的命运和现在在生活中的位置地。

那还是夏天里的某一天，清晨蒙蒙亮的时候，她听到楼下有几个说西班牙语的有些鬼祟的声音，伴随着一阵悉悉索索.她警惕又好奇地从百页窗地缝隙望去, 看到有几个墨西哥人模样的年轻人，掂着脚站在垃圾箱前很奋力地翻捡着什么；学校里怎么突然间有了这些好象并非学生的角色。在CNN的新闻里，这个群体应该出没在芝加哥某个黑暗的角落，或者德州和墨西哥交界的广漠的矗立着高大仙人掌的边境上。他们在寻找什么呢，食物么，还是银行寄给用户的有着信用卡号码的帐单.她看着他们把一个个已经歪曲变形了的易拉罐从垃圾里翻出来，放到袋子里；她顿时对自己瞬间闪过的认为他们企图盗窃信用卡账号的想法非常鄙夷；黑暗中她甚至红了一下脸。原来就在她的楼下，有这样生活的一群墨西哥人，他们以捡卖易拉罐为生。辛苦地捡一天的易拉罐，够买一个汉堡么。她的鼻子贴在窗户上，有一些隐隐的兴奋；她看到了一个秘密，她是这个秘密的见证者。在这个至少也是学生的大多数人都是中产阶级的小镇，最普通的时尚也是UGG和ipod的地方，她看到了这么一个赤裸裸的为生存挣扎的场面。

那些墨西哥人后来哪里去了，她不知道。可能他们都找到更好的谋生的方法了吧。然后就是秋天了。这天下雨，她拎着伞走出门。楼梯上坐着一个流浪汉，观望着雨景。发现她走下来，流浪汉站起身，非常歉意地说，不好意思，miss,我可以在这里躲一下雨么。他的脸上的皱纹堆砌着弯曲着，很窘迫地笑着。当然，当然可以，她喃喃。其实她还想说我也只是租这里的公寓而已，请不要用这么请求的语气和我说话好么，不用觉得我在比你高的阶级上，我们都是一样的，用不同的方式流浪罢了。可是她头也不回地走了，她也很窘迫。下一次遇见那个流浪汉的时候，他的手上也有一个袋子。她听说他晚上在给无家可归的人的shelter住；白天出来捡易拉罐，挣一些微薄的收入买食物。她还听说警察不喜欢这一类的流浪汉去翻动别人的垃圾，所以他们只能在凌晨的时候找僻静的地方出没。曾经和Lindsey一起住的时候，被培养出来的所有的垃圾都要分门别类地回收的习惯，也没有必要坚持了；把垃圾都扔到楼下的垃圾桶好了；那些只提倡回收的中产阶级肯定没有想到过对于很多在白天是invisible的人来说，这些垃圾是关息他们生存的依靠。

冬天。她发现她的车窗上面时常会有猫爪子留下的印记。次数多了，她觉得这附近肯定有流浪的猫。一天晚上，她回家的时候，路过垃圾箱，上面突然窜下来一个黑乎乎的然后飞速跑走了的一团。肯定就是那只猫；它难道也是在垃圾箱里找食物吃的么；对啊，明摆着的。之后的一天晚上，她把吃剩的鱼骨头放到垃圾箱口，然后回家关上灯，站在窗户旁边等那只猫过来觅食。过来的，是两只猫，她甚至都不确定其中有没有她昨天看到的那只。她以为流浪猫都是又瘦又小很让人怜悯的，结果这两只，大概吃多了垃圾箱里的pizza，非常健硕。它们很奋力地舔和撕扯那大概已经冻到冰雪里面的鱼骨头；路灯下有它们圆圆的影子。它们晚上在哪里睡觉呢，再厚的脂肪和fur也难以抵挡这样的寒冷啊。她很冲动地想给animal shelter打电话；结果又听说那种shelter只接受还有可能被人领养的动物，象这样的已经几乎野性化了的动物，shelter没有位子给它们，也没有人有时间训练它们。这都是什么规则啊。

垃圾箱，很大，很不起眼，很疲惫，很重要。

Grace在

2009-01-19T20:14:00.000-08:00

开学前一天里去Champaign某处sledding.不幸摔伤脸颊。平时总是抱怨磨砂膏做得强度不高黏黏糊糊的她这次被超强效的天然冰雪磨砂膏亲密接触了一下；颧骨红肿之处顿如龙虾。想当年在幼儿园里被小朋友欺负，回来脸上多了一道几乎看不见的指甲盖大小的疤，奶奶和妈妈几乎念叨了20年，深信不疑要是将来Grace长大嫁不出去，定是这道疤的缘故。她们要是现在来看看Grace的左颧骨，肯定要当场昏厥。其实Grace看到皮肤上突然多出来的改变原本平滑的表面的伤痕，也还是很有几分惶然的。然后Grace开始在晚上9点钟以后开始发烧，然后发现明天第一堂课竟然已经有了reading要due,然后发现给本科生的课里连Exam2都还没写完。她现在唯一希望的事情是，否极泰来是灵验的。

记在2009年春季学期前一晚。

时间

2009-01-07T13:43:00.000-08:00

（1）

因为下学期有office hour，所以不得不去久违的在armory的办公室，检查一下那自从暑假时被迫挪到隔壁以后就从来没有用过的电脑是否还正常运转。相距一年，一模一样的单调的景致。狭窄的不见尽头的走廊，左边是玻璃护栏，右边是曾经是空军宿舍的改建成的办公室。透过玻璃可以看到零零散散的空军大兵穿着制服在集训；寂静得一丝声音都没有。我低头看看自己，甚至我的黑大衣也是去年的那一件。错觉中突然觉得这一年的时间就象被保存在这么一个真空的空间里面一样，untouched, intact.我呼吸的空气，还是去年的；连时间也被压缩了，去年和今年重合在一起。某一瞬间里我好像在2046的那个密封的列车里，永远都逃不出去；时间和列车永远在移动，可是身在列车里，我察觉不到这移动。这一年都发生了什么呢，时间和记忆怎么变成了这么没有温度和生命的东西。此时此刻，如果你告诉我我会在这走廊里变成化石，我都相信。

我打开办公室的门，看到我的电脑的屏幕上还贴着"This is Grace's computer. Please move it to 305"的纸条。揭开纸条，打开电脑，试了几个password却发现没有办法登陆上去。我不禁松了一口气。时间的变化至少还是发生过的，因为，你看，我的电脑它不认识我了。

（2）

我的文章被A接受了。我的导师Carla比我要兴奋许多。不是我淡泊名利，是在这一年的改了投又投了改的过程里，我很疲惫。Carla非常惊讶地看着我。大概她心里在想一个graduate student对有了annals的publication而无动于衷是对学术研究的多么大的亵渎，她当初是怎么走了眼看上我的。她blah, blah, blah地说了一些这个journal的挑选有多么严格；言外之意是，你要怎样才能对人生满意呢。

我不知道。真的。当初写这篇文章的是后觉得就兴奋地觉得它是我的小baby一样，然后忐忑不安地把它投出去期待别人象我一样喜欢它。看穿了我的anxiety，Carla很老成地告诫，投出去，就不要再惦记了，因为惦记得太深只会你伤害自己。我不知为什么联系起了父母和孩子之间的关系。我年少无知的时候常常气我妈；我妈的开场白通常是“我辛辛苦苦地把你生下来。。。”，我立刻顶回去说“我又没有叫你生我，你自己选择生我的。你给我生命不代表我的性格和命运要被你完全控制。。”我妈她大概不会想到我第一次体会到作为母亲的为难是为了我的paper－有些东西你再爱它也控制不了的，还是学会let it go吧。

它被reviewers第一轮寄回来的时候我在考prelim，无暇顾及它。等到10月份我按照reviewers的意见修改的时候，看着几个月前还觉得是我深刻的一部分的文章，咬牙切齿地觉得真肤浅。再寄出去，再退回来，继续改，见鬼，这conclusion是我写的么，怎么这么没有头绪和力度的。收到被接受的信的时候，我已经，很戏剧化的，从一个深深喜欢它的母亲变成一个厌倦得根本不想再多看它一眼的角色。

其实我宁可停留在最初的那个单纯时刻。如果不是为了功利地将之发表于众，可能我还是喜爱它的。如今它通过了别人的关卡，我却觉得它不再是我的了。我想我妈她肯定也是更喜欢我躺在摇篮里不用事事和她对着来的日子的；因为那个时候我全心全意地依靠她，爱她。

时间么。

（3）
我的教授Laura的狗是一条小花beagle。每次Laura有事情要出城的时候，都请我住到她的家里去照顾狗Buddy和另外两只猫。我很喜欢这份差使；这世界要是有什么溜狗公司啊什么的我肯定考虑前去申请工作；要是我博士毕业还找不到工作的话，也可以考虑在这个狗口众多的小城开设一家。

Buddy的生活很有秩序。每天上午他六点中左右起床，然后他晃着脖子上的铃铛走到我床边，检查一下我是否已经醒了。当然了，99％的情况下我都是没有醒，或者我压根就是刚睡着，或者就是被他的铃铛声给吵醒了。于是他很无聊地叹一口气，又叮叮叮地走开了，要么就在我床边的地毯上趴下，眼巴巴地看着我醒。如此这般，来回折腾几次，最后他实在忍不住了，就站起来趴到大门口的玻璃上，用爪子敲玻璃，表示他坚定的马上要出门的决心。我无可奈何地忍着跳动的太阳穴，穿上大衣，寒风刺骨中把他领出门。中午吃饭前，晚饭前还有后，都还要再领他出去。如果同是beagle的snoopy也有这般生活习性的话，我还是挺同情Charlie Brown的。

我举上述的例子的目的其实是要说明，在和Buddy一起生活的日子里，我那原本散漫无章的生活，因为要照顾Buddy,突然变得很有结构和秩序了。很滑稽吧。溜Buddy是我每天生活的主轴，我的时间就是绕着这个轴转的。这个秩序么，当然在离开Buddy的第二天就土崩瓦解了。很难评价我的生活；是我的更进化还是Buddy的，不过，至少他知道在什么时间要做什么。

A moment

2008-12-28T17:57:00.000-08:00

I thought of a talk that an Indian lady gave to us at HDES. The lady spoke British English with a very slight, if not imperceptible, Indian accent. Her talk, regarding aesthetics and environment, was very intriguing. So interesting that I grabbed a piece of paper by hand and took copious notes of her ideas on beauty, taste, nature, and Kant. I remember she talked about according to Kant, while the taste is socially constructed, beauty is not. Beauty is natural and universal. Her point was then, of course, almost sniffed at by the sociology student A, who has a giant body and funny long hair. Bourdieu was used to counter Kant, for it is believed that all things, including culture itself, are only a temple of the society. Beauty is cultural capital, while what accounts for beauty and what is recognized as forming beauty can only be cultural capital. Man, I also remember how tired I was of Bourdieu, of sociology, of class. If Kant was idealist, and if beauty was only imagination, let them be, for the very idea itself is beautiful. We all tolerate and adore beautiful things and people, don't we? How Bourdieu has to be used to explain this human nature?

Damn it, where is that piece of paper which had all my notes on that Indian lady's beautiful description of Kant and beauty? Where is it? I'm digging through my piles of papers;my memories flashing back with randomness;lost in my small yet elusive world.

信

2008-12-25T16:39:00.000-08:00

亲爱的老詹（眨眼睛）：

Hey，刚才看了久违的校友录，看到你的留言。您老这么久不用msn，我不知道是否用这个信箱发信会石沉大海。

恩，看，这么久没联系已经不知道该说什么好了。我的博士快毕业了吧，在写论文中。一直在这个鬼地方生活，不得不学着适应这漫长的冬天。现在室外有零下30多度吧。这些年里，我读了很多文章，写了一些文章，作了很多蹩脚的发言，去了美国很多地方。下学期我要教一门本科生的课。现在在存钱准备夏天去夏威夷开会。不知道怎么把我的生活浓缩在这么几行字里。恩，反正我从一个超级黏人的对生活有无限不现实的期许的小女生变成一个相反的人。呵呵，你大概不信。

很久没有回国了，好像距离下次回国也遥遥无期。怎样才可以和你时常保持联系啊，尤其是如果你不怎么用msn和查邮箱的话。我很想念你还有过去的荒唐时光。对空间的分离造成人之间的疏远总是很遗憾，当然这也难免，但是我这么喜欢和命运做斗争的人（呵呵）幻想可以用某种方式来弥补和对抗。所以有什么方式才能保持联系呢？。。。。

和我说说你的生活吧。恩，我什么都想听。希望有一天回国的话可以看到你。=P

Grace

亲爱的小妖精：

好久不见，昨天仿佛历历在目，可是转眼大家都各奔东西了。

我还是老样子，头发长了剪短，短了留长，受不了直发的时候就烫卷染染，卷了又觉得天天打理麻烦得不行。在学校的时候闲得发慌，现在又忙得不行。我现在在中国银行工作，还算和我的专业有点关系吧。不过上班也就是那个样子，重复劳动远大于创造，天天说着一样的话，做着同样的事，快成机器人了，一到了周末就起不来床。

爱情专家兼星占专家我想知道你近来运程如何，并且可以给你开设免费在线咨询。

我们单位平时不能上外网，所以我的MSN白天很少开，晚上有时候会在线。不在线也没关系，给我留言，我能看到了。

眨眼睛

Purdue地图

2008-12-21T01:10:00.000-08:00

旅途从Purdue北边角落的Stone Hall出发。穿过草坪，那春天的时候有粉色和红色的桃花的草坪。大树下有美术系的金发女生在临摹。她们坐成一圈。Purdue的钟楼灯塔在她们的画板上若隐若现。

前方是Stewart Center。多气派的楼，连墙壁都是白底米色花纹的大理石建筑的。走廊里，orange抱着她的笔记本轻盈地飘过来。在她的想像中orange做出一个芭蕾的姿势，伸出手臂跃向前方，穿越弥漫在空中的微尘。那一刻，虚幻和现实混合在一起。Orange是穿着A&F灰色毛衣的苗条中国女孩，又是The Diving Bell&Butterfly 里法国现代医院的走廊里跳舞的18世纪的芭蕾舞演员，还是Russian Ark中穿着着白色衣衫的追逐着对方的尼古拉斯二世的宫女。

继续走下去，是student union，最最甜蜜的地方。她喜欢缩成一团，坐在gallary的木制的长靠背椅里。周围是黑暗的，顶上的灯是温暖的。她写文章，读书，发呆，偷听旁边桌子的母子的对话。天，只有她知道她有多么地喜欢那里；她恨不得每天一上完枯燥的marketing或者stats课就到gallary去。在那里她觉得她是世界的一部分，是自然优美的一部分；不象在marketing课上逼着自己发言讨论一个相当无聊的问题才能感受到自我的存在的，那样局促。墙上贴着学校过去的棒球或者足球运动员的老照片，每个人都摆着一个滑稽的姿势和笑容。她从电脑屏幕前抬起的那一刹那，和他们的目光相遇了；呵呵，50年前的他们知道在50年后他们被挂在墙上让人观赏么。

临挨着的Happy's又在放70年代的音乐。Bye,bye, Mr.American Pie.Drove my chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.地砖是黑白马赛克拼成的。她想像穿着黑色的鞋子，还有黑色的丝袜，黑色的裙子，走在里面。Can I have a bowl of Chili，please。最好还可以拿出一支烟。

Pizza place。饼总是厚得象一个大面团。不过买一份小的spaghetti还有两个烤鸡翅膀也是一顿很好的meal。她曾经在那里看到A和B手牵着手，眼里噙着泪水。爱情，飘在空中，好像也不是，很沉重。

终于到了吃午饭的地方啦。她曾经最喜欢的是买一个half tuna salad sandwich，还有一盒酸奶做午餐。有时候会碰到Eric一起吃饭。Eric总是很讲究地挥舞着手里的刀和叉，用心地切chicken thigh或者roasted beef的entree午餐。然后有一天争论起什么，Eric说，我是oriental by heart，她听了哈哈大笑。

她还喜欢做日本面的大师傅。白人大师傅带着一个很夸张的大帽子，然后把其实正宗做法是凉拌的日本面soba，用中国炒面的方式做出来。一边很陶醉地上下翻动着炒锅，一边很热情地问，中文怎么说Bak-Choy，哦，原来是白菜啊，英文和中文可真象啊。

走出Union之前，要去Oasis绿洲。颜色鲜艳的墙壁，黄色，红色，紫色，很眩目。Sandwich很大，其实有时候吃一个bagel with cream cheese就很心满意足了。她每次stat考试前，都去oasis买咖啡，做下来强迫自己复习不怎么make sense的统计习题。到底是谁征服谁呢，统计课还是她。

在Purdue的时候，这还是她生活的一部分的时候，一切都是那么不可救药地mundane和琐碎。在回忆里连Purdue这么drab的地方都虚幻地诗意起来了。是她变宽容了么，还是什么，时间。

2008

2008-12-18T16:59:00.000-08:00

我就象跳下了一个没有底端的悬崖，一直一直这么下降着。不知道何时，何地，会出现什么。

夏天是在Giuliani和Laura的lab里度过的。很习惯地在包里放一件毛衣，穿在裙子外面，因为要在有冷气的房间里很有耐心地坐上若干个小时。淡蓝色的香蕉共和国的毛衣在穿了一个暑假之后终于成了我最不喜欢的衣服。

我为什么会提到这些毫不相关的细节。其实我是想说，我是多么地怀念这个枯燥的夏天啊。不是因为病态地喜欢准备prelim，而是这几个月好像就是我曾经经历过的人生的一个缩影一样。目标很明确的，考试，阅读，写作。我这平凡的人生一直沿绕着这轨迹，习惯了别的人或者学校／社会制度给我一个纪律，问题，时限，然后我就找方法去回答。如此这般，我就有了冠冕堂皇的理由不去思考生活和了解内心的茫然怯懦了。难道不好笑么，回答“什么是中国的自我意识”比回答“我在回忆初恋的某个时刻的时候体会到了什么”要来得直接和实际许多，因为至少前者是可以在我的论述中找答案的。就是这么容易被表面的实在的思考所满足。

沉浸在忙忙碌碌之中，突然，prelim结束了。一个巨大的休止符。乐观的人总是说上帝关上一扇门会打开另一扇窗。可是如果他没有打开呢。时间如同无止境的深渊一般，我在持续的坠落中等待。

十月份和十一月份过得异常痛苦。写申请信，简历，不要脸地说自己武艺高超技能过人。然后就是继续等待；有的被cancel了，有的被delay了，还有的给了rejection。巨大的空洞，没有边际，隧道；我想起冷酷仙境与世界尽头里的场景。比起这无形的焦虑，prelim时候的诸如该如何从某个角度来回答问题的具体的烦恼简直就是一种幸福。有一次和我的朋友夏天讨论这件事。夏天的blog有一些非常诗意化的文章；在讨论中他给了非常相反的，很实际，很着谱所以也很不靠谱的，解决方法。那次会面后，我无比清晰地意识到等待是一个solitude的activity,其厚重是只有我自己才能承担的。

小的时候读王安忆的流逝，现在已经不完全记得其中的内容了。大致说的是如果文革中的日子是一种流逝，一种对人性的审判的话，那么文革后恢复正常生活的时光是对人性的另一种审判。其实两者在某种程度上都是一种等待。谁在等待呢；什么在等待中流逝了呢；为什么要不安呢。等待是一种持续的生活状态。对于很多人，比如说我爸爸，一生都在不知不觉中等待。

不安在于我曾经是资本主义也好社会主义也好的社会的一颗螺丝钉；制度／学校一直带动着我转动。突然间被从机器上取下来，放到一边，这个螺丝钉猛然发现原来它要面对的东西是自己，是生活的本身。它却悲哀地发现它没有这个最基本的取悦自己和生活的能力。终于，它觉察出这个世界上真正的demon是它自己。Come out, come out；I dare you to a battle. 在村上的冷酷仙境里，影子和人被很理想化地分开了。虽然生活在两个不同的世界里，两者还是感受着对方的存在并且保护着对方的。My war against my own self 是多么自言自语的假想。

2008年12月的某一天，我穿着紫色的外套在堆砌着冰雪的街上浅一脚深一脚地行走。街对面有一个熟悉的女孩子的身影。她穿着一件黑色的呢子外套，带一顶黑帽子，然后走进了一间咖啡店。那个是我么。如果她是我，我会爱上她么。

原来

2008-12-17T10:26:00.000-08:00

英文的学术文章的写法和中文八股文也差不离。So institutionalized. 结构和架势还有发表的准则，结合起来非常限制语言和思想的灵活性。我是不是又发现得太晚了。

祖母

2008-11-29T15:36:00.000-08:00

Grace的祖母已经离开她有11年了。那天Grace看文章的时候遇到一个词void，这让她想起祖母去世后她的生活。家，这些，那些，void.

empty 空虚是个不恰当的字眼。怎么能空虚呢，Grace 这些年来经历了那么多事情，幽默的，悲伤的，戏剧化的，无法用言语形容的。可是void，这个无法填满的空间，即使Grace在这些时间里无数次重温修改过去和祖母的记忆，它还是清清楚楚地停留在生活深处的某个层面里，变成了一道隐性的伤痕。

习惯在支零破碎的家庭长大，对Grace而言，祖母还有南京城就象一盏温暖的灯一样。在这个shelter下，Grace成天和小朋友们没心没肺地疯玩。如果你们读严歌苓的话，也许你们会觉得在她眼里她的母亲是个乡下人。在Grace看来，祖母是无比光彩照人的。透过书橱的玻璃门，可以看到祖母演雷雨里四凤的剧照。旗袍是祖母永远不过时的行头，Grace于是也在花样年华诞生很多年前就已经体会到了旗袍是多么有气质的衣服。记忆中祖母有一件旗袍是银灰色的上面有黑色的小花的，还有白底绿色抽象图案的花纹的。祖母在镜子前幽幽地穿上旗袍，陶醉地看着镜子中的自己。镜子上凝结着一层浅浅的水气，祖母的脸就在那半隐半现之中。Grace在一旁饶有兴致地观察到的祖母的表情经历的一连串很复杂微妙的变化；她在想着，或者，怀念着什么呢。然后祖母穿着旗袍去上书法课，去拜访朋友，去组织老年朋友们唱歌。她这样走下化工学院家属楼的第五层，摆着煤球的第四层，放着各式各样的盆花的第三层，潘阿姨在门口收拾虾和鱼的第二层。在南京酷热潮湿的空气里，祖母的旗袍背后被汗水打湿了一大片。

祖母有时候还要戴上她的珍珠项链穿上高跟鞋。她很多次对Grace说，女人穿旗袍的时候最显身段了，暗示象Grace这样成天含着胸没有女孩子样地跑来跑去留着短发连穿条裙子都嫌烦会被其他玩伴们笑话的，离做一个成熟女人还有多么遥远的距离。Grace在祖母说起这些的时候，脸上总是故意地摆出一副不屑的表情来，但她其实内心深处是同意祖母的，只不过她怯懦地不愿意承认罢了。即便如此，祖母在Grace复杂的家庭里还是被戴着一顶平凡的乡下人的帽子。在严歌苓的书里，这个原因或多或少地导致了祖父的离开。当然了，严歌苓是体谅她的父亲的，所以她的母亲所做的每一件固执的争取或者挽救爱情的举动是荒谬而近乎悲哀的。Grace也是体谅她疯狂的自私地理想主义的祖父的，但是现在Grace想来，一个看不起卑微生活的人本身是多么可笑而卑微。究竟有谁可以完全超越生活的卑微呢。

每年寒假和暑假的时候，Grace要被送到北京和她的祖父一起居住。呜呜火车前方到达北京站。Grace在挂满韩美林的画，非洲某部落的原始工艺，阿根廷的小牛皮地毯的祖父家里。南京逼仄的油盐酱醋的生活顿时显得很遥远。祖父用他奇特的哼哈不清的上海话一遍遍地提醒她这一切也都是她的，可是她如何能相信呢。对于祖父来说，接她来住的重要目的是为了给她灌输血统的延续这个概念。对着她，祖父陷入快乐的沉思和回忆中，那回忆又往往是加以想像的，述说她的某位前辈是多么了不起的一个人，上海的某条路是以他的名字命名的，或者贝某某是最伟大的建筑师，或者如何如何。祖父在这反复的回忆中非常快乐和自豪。他就象一个星空的守护人一样，凝视着天空中或隐或现的星星，叙述着某颗亮点的故事。一切的一切，旨在告诉她不能做一个有着庸俗理想的普通人。Grace很久以后，才迟钝地觉察出祖父这一举动本身中所包含的自私和虚荣心。把种种名誉和头衔装饰在生活中，他好像就可以走出自己这实质上很平凡的生活了一样。于是，Grace轻飘飘又每时每刻都呼吸着空气中的厚重地度过每年在北京的日子。在这个家里，平庸是要被人唾弃的，Grace小小年纪就明白了。在她还不知道什么是爱，恨，善良和虚伪以前。

南京，南京。街头有炸臭豆腐，鸭血粉丝汤还有糖炒栗子。生活琐碎又温情。有谁想去参观古城墙也就坐着33路公共汽车到秦淮河边上的一站下来然后就爬上去了，哪里象在北京到长城是多么了不起的工程一样。谁说爱一个人是要通过寄托某种希望才能体现的。祖母就不。Grace既使在小学的时候数学就总是很丢脸地只考70来分，祖母也还是很骄傲地说我的孙女作文比赛鼓楼区第三名。祖母带她去访问养老院里没有牙齿的老人，陪他们做在庭院里晒太阳。祖母很恭敬地叫她的书法老师某某先生，然后很欣慰地把她写的书法裱起来，挂在墙上。她总是在厨房里忙碌着，等着Grace把她的狐朋狗友们带回家来吃饭，吃完后舔舔嘴巴甜蜜地说真是太好吃了。她选择容忍Grace在反叛的青春期里做的大多数荒唐事情，虽然有一次忍无可忍地给了Grace一巴掌。

不知道你们有没有在小学的时候常常要写看图说话的故事，有一个题目是关于一个卖苹果的姑娘在雨中，然后苹果们落到了地上。如果这个故事在现实生活中发生，并且祖母在一边的话，她肯定是那个画里放下雨伞帮助那个姑娘的人。祖母就是有这种近乎天真的让人敬佩地个对每个平凡生命都尊敬和热爱的怜悯心。她帮助楼下的比她年轻20岁的徐叔叔搬煤球。如果在火车站遇到什么流浪的孩子，伸出脏乎乎的手掌心向上地嘴里咕咕囔囔地说着什么乞讨着什么的时候，她总是善良地选择相信那个孩子或者编出来的故事。她亲切地对待服务阶层的每一个人，用她的语言天赋飞快地学会徐州话蚌埠话，和巷子里修自行车伯伯或者卖葱油饼的婶婶交谈，问他们过春节会不会回老家。我的奶奶。相比而言，Grace是一个被禁锢在她骄傲的外壳里的人，虽然她内心深处也非常喜欢和怜悯那些她生活中的小人物们。她的祖母坦然地选择平凡，祖父坦然地选择高贵，而她就在这两者之间上下挣扎着。

祖母最后的日子是在江苏省中医院度过的。那个时候Grace要爬过新街口的天桥穿过街上熙熙攘攘的人群和车流去看她。那生动浮闹的场面和医院里的肃静与挣扎形成鲜明对比并一同扎在Grace的心上。Grace和父亲从医院里出来，两个人都带着沉默并使劲抑制着悲伤的脸，和周围摩登热闹的人群格格不入着。医院背后是上海路，是Grace很小很小的时候住过的地方。住在那里的时候每天晚上祖母会牵着她的手去散步，看着不远处的金陵饭店在深蓝色的夜空中闪耀着光芒。祖母的头发在化疗中日渐稀少，她开玩笑地说她将来出院后要带一顶假发。有一次Grace在出医院大门的时候，看着匆匆而过的人和车忍不住哭了，旁边有一个乞丐说，小姑娘，有什么伤心事，来，给你算算命吧。

日子总是在转瞬即逝后才体会到其美好的。Grace那个时候还不知道在祖母去世了以后家就变成一个纯粹停留在记忆中的概念了。她曾经努力想像如果祖母继续在世地话，她的生活应该是什么样子。再后来，就放弃努力了。祖母也就成了这个若隐若现的void,Grace学会了绕着路子不去直面这填不满的洞。她甚至可以对她后来遇见的南京人哈哈笑着说，你知道么，我算是南京人呢，我是丁家桥小学的。

为什么在我还没有学会如何去爱你的时候就失去了你呢。

monologue

2008-11-22T20:29:00.000-08:00

"Mrs. Dalloway" arrived today. Having been lying in the mailbox for a whole day, the book felt almost icy as I was pulling it out from the Amazon package. On the back of the cover, there is one interesting, and of course, very Virginia-Woolf-like remark: "....heroic journeys...could also locate the enormous within everyday; that a life of errands and party-giving was every bit as viable a subject as any life lived anywhere". As innocuous as days are. As dramatic as life is. I found myself smiling at Virginia's melancholy profile portrait.

杂货店

2008-11-16T19:11:00.000-08:00

如果不亲自来美国的大型杂货店购物的话，你是不知道这国家的光鲜背后是有多沮丧的。整个杂货店就是一个没有立体空间的大型货仓。货物们无精打采东倒西歪地陈列在货架上。这些货物们自被从田里摘了起或者从牛和猪的身上被取下来起就被随便地扔来扔去改来改去。现在又被贴上了标签在众人的目光下等待着消失在某个人的购物篮的那一刹那。没有生命，更别提什么羞耻心了。Grace记得她很喜欢的法国电影Amelie里有一个卖水果和蔬菜的小贩，他对每个水果都那么珍爱。有一个镜头是他捧起一个水果，仔细地闻了又闻，轻轻地抚摸它，然后很热情地向买水果的人形容这个水果的奇特生命。相比之下，即使同是水果，命运也是那么不同啊。

卖肉的地方有愤怒地总也听不懂顾客解释的黑人大妈，卖鱼的地方有默默地总是低着头瘦小的从遥远的东南亚某个国度或许偷渡来的女工作人员。一进门的时候，一个头发花白的可能是GM某个厂倒闭后没有退休金和医疗保险了于是70多的高龄了还要到这个鬼地方来工作12个小时一天地来挣取微薄的薪水的白人老爷爷，一遍遍不怨其烦地说，"Miss, how are you today"。这个世界上为什么总是有这么多心酸的故事。Check out的时候，红头发的年轻收银员小姐的右手是残疾的。她很费力气地用一只左手挪动所有的货物。Grace忍不住帮住她一下，心里很忐忑地希望红头发小姐不要看出她按耐不住的怜悯。这个鬼地方，究竟是它帮助了穷人给了他们一点点生存的依靠呢还是更加彻底地剥削了他们。就是这么一个地方，世间百态都随着货物的流进和流出而上演着。

在巨大的日光灯下行走，Grace觉得思想和身体都异常缓慢。思维到了最迟钝不堪的时刻。身边时常有为生活所劳顿的穿着邋遢的白人，黑人，还有拉美母亲或父亲带着孩子在往篮子里放什么。还有象Grace一样的无产亚洲留学生，时常向Grace发出探询的目光。迟钝得懒得破解这目光中所包含的不同的意义，Grace还往往在这目光中会很莫名地恼怒。恼怒在这个她最麻木最不堪的时刻被人探询。就象所有虚荣的人一样，她喜欢别人看到的她都是光彩照人口若悬河的那一面。所以在这种时刻她恨不能做一个隐身人。有一次Grace在买杂货的时候导师卡拉打来电话，Grace就站在那放满洋葱的架子前心烦意乱地分身无术，眼睛里看的，心里想的和嘴里说的完全分裂成了三样不同的东西。突然间，她发现有一个什么东西在悄悄地很有企图地向她靠近。她于是很警惕地转过身去看，看到的是一张年轻的微笑的亚洲男生的脸。可怜的人，等待他的，是Grace愤怒又恐惧的目光。

今天Grace在等待check out的时候，照例很麻木地扫描着八卦杂志上的美女相片。然后她注意到了她前排的等待的人中的一个亚洲女生。那个女生有宽阔的额头还有淡疏的眉毛，不知道是不是这个给了她一种很安静秀气的神态，让Grace隐隐地想起她曾经的一个朋友。在女孩很仔细地读着付款的小票的时候，她身后的两个亚洲男生开始check out了。Grace想他们大概是一起来的。那两个男生讲起了一种Grace听不懂的中国南方的方言。福建话，或着江西话么。那个时候，女孩一直安静地站在一旁。Grace开始推测他们之间的关系，女孩是他们中某一个的女朋友或者妻子，要么他们是室友或者老乡，否则他们不会这么大大方方地说方言。

就在Grace想着这些的时候，那两个穿着黑外套的男生开始研究他们的小票的背面。应该是杂货店进一步刺激消费给的什么coupon。可能也就是一罐牛奶少付20cents这样。突然间他们拿过女孩的小票，激动地走回超市里的货架中去，应该是按照coupon的指示又去买什么东西了。他们雀跃地冲到Grace身后的货架上，手里捏着小票，翻动着糖果和苏打饮料，口里喃喃着什么。Grace大概听懂他们在说”是这个么，是这个“。

那个女孩于是被完全晾在一边。她把他们的车推到一旁，在旁边的长椅上坐下。购物车上的塑料袋层层叠叠地张着口。她穿着苹果绿的上衣，宽大的蓝色运动裤。裤脚被束起来在靴子里面,于是流畅的宽大感被她脚上的那双黑色的puma靴子给僵硬地打断了。她的马尾辫上还有紫色的发带。这个在时尚眼里无疑是很滑稽的打扮在Grace看来就象一个朴实的布袋娃娃一样，让Grace忍不住想过去拍拍她和她说些什么话。大概女孩也感受到了这有些突如其来的尴尬，她打开一盒酸奶，略略侧过头撇开直视她的等待check out的人的有意或无意目光，然后小心敏感又寂寞地看看周围。就在她喝酸奶的时候，那两个男生回来了，手里拿了些东西，check out。当然了他们又拿到新的小票，可是天啊他们就又兴冲冲地回去买东西了，大概又想把新的背面的coupon给用掉。Grace从没有想过一个杂货店的营销手段可以这么成功。女孩就一直静静地看着他们乐此不疲地来来回回地忙碌，静静地回避着众人向她投去的目光。Grace突然对这两个男生颇有一些生气。他们怎么就能把那么可爱寂寞的布娃娃放在那里让她承担做这闹剧的无辜陪衬呢。

无聊的杂货店里偶尔也有生动的故事。

无题

2008-11-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

Grace今天和一个很有意思的中国女孩展开了一段很有意思的谈话。她们做了Grace的interview。然后不知怎么就谈到皮肤问题。那个女生请Grace注意她脸上的青春痘，Grace请她注意她苍白的皮肤上青春痘的残垣片瓦还有从Grace记事起母亲就为之忧愁愤怒的雀斑，以及她在考完prelim之后发现陡然长出的眼带。然后她们互相赞美对方的长相很年轻。随后她们一起感叹时间对女人的面容真是没有慈悲。忽然间Grace发现其实她很enjoy这些琐碎的女生之间的谈话。这些谈话让她感到生活的质感。她又一次希望可以吸取之前的教训，在离开这个地方之前可以交一些她很喜欢的朋友。

Grace发现她可掩盖尴尬和心虚的方式是装成很大大咧咧的美国人，大声说英文，大声地毫不掩饰地笑。越象美国人的时候，越尴尬和心虚。这个是与生俱来的生存技能呢，还是后天习来的。可能祖母演员的基因还是有些遗传的。但是那个时候，你千万不要以为这个就是她最真实或者她最喜欢自己的那一面。那个时候，她就象被一层气流，随便被戳一下，她就失去自己的状态了。

Grace在去年的这个时候就深深地喜欢上了她的一个committee member P的说英文的声音。完全没有本科生那种流里流气的super-articulated的语调。这个形容太苍白了。总之是非常touching纯净而且庄严的一个说英文的声音。Grace每次上完她的课之后都努力尝试一样地decent说英文，每每都被现实生活中要和各式各样的人打交道，比如说verizon 客户服务或者来套近乎的TA学生，而不得不放弃尝试。上个星期的某一天，Grace又一次去P的办公室讨论论文的问题。再一次听到那个声音的时候，在psychology building的六层楼上，窗外有秋天很广阔的澈蓝的天空，就在那个时刻，Grace说着学术问题，心里确突然被一个很柔软的东西触动了。她甚至眼眶湿润了一下，不知道为什么。

今天Grace还想到了一件事情。就是她要去德国旅游一趟，一个人。一定的。要离开这个乱烘烘热闹的美国。她要去看那个她的祖父告诉她的他们的祖先来自的小镇。她要很安静地拍照片。她要去找二毛。她还要把照片给她那长着亚洲人才有的黑头发的，每每电视上一帮金发的德国运动员在卖命地奔跑争夺一个球的时候，就不知所以地自豪忘情呼喊的父亲看。他会很嫉妒的。

To make a burger

2008-11-08T18:20:00.000-08:00

应该怎么来讲这个故事呢。这个故事，无奇到hollywood电影里常常会出现类似的情节，戏剧化到Grace从来没有想到会发生在自己身上。可以很沉重，也可以很幽默。很难以想像Grace现在想着这个故事，竟然觉得有几分戏谑的含义。

一个用严厉的英文写信的中国式父亲般的中国人；面包。一个长期浸泡在鬼子甜蜜圆滑又狡猾的沟通方式中的不知不觉也变成了半个鬼子的中国人；cheese。还有一个常被误认为是美国人的葡萄牙人；牛肉。

Chesse在焦头烂额地寻觅工作中。牛肉于是说，cheese，不如把你曾经立下汗马功劳虽然最后申请未成的那个grant写到你的CV里吧。本来么这个世界上的条条框框大多是有权力的人为圈定他们的权力而设置的，所以大多数没有权力的人都是在条条框框的限制下而无奈地活着。当时没有把你的名字放到grant中去，不过是因为所谓的条条框框认为加入graduate student会增加申请的难度。总而言之，这个世界本身已经是不公正的，所以你在简历上开一个小玩笑完全没有辜负这个不合理的世界秩序。Cheese于是在虚荣心的驱使下同意了。如果这个混乱的世界上50％的事情都是有背于道德的约束或者逻辑的合理设置的，她这么悄悄的小小的不伤害任何人的而且给自己平反的小手脚又如何呢。她会成为一个良心的罪人么。

当然了，戏剧性就在于这个小手脚被严厉的在给cheese写推荐信面包发现了。面包用英文严厉地指出，为什么你要编造一件没有发生过的事情。自尊又敏感的cheese悔恨羞辱到快要融化了。道德的污点。一个恶劣的罪犯和一个有道德感的好人往往只有一线之隔。是什么使你跨越这道防线的。她于是做梦都做到自己被送到断头台。象玛丽皇后被斩首的情形一样，下面的看客欢呼雀跃。下面的问题是，事已如此了，简历上面改过来也就罢了，她该怎么面对面包直到论文答辩结束呢。

cheese每日便在这自我否灭中困惑。牛肉见此，痛心疾首地大呼，你什么也没有做错。面包凭什么把他自己放在道德的制高点上，难道他的人生是绝对地clean么。有那么多种方法可以提示这个错误，为什么要用如此伤你自尊心的方法。我牛肉也彻底被伤害了。不行，我们要找一个新面包。这个面包太不合情理了。

chesse于是在斗争良久后，给面包写了一封看则婉转实则阴险的英文信。信发出后，很解脱，就好像一个囚犯可以重新选择人生了一样。一小时候后，面包回信了。信中写到，他很莫名其妙，很抱歉如果他不经意的言语造成了什么。并且他觉得cheese有fearless intelligence，所以他觉得有必要继续支持和管理chesse的dissertation research。

问题就象个皮球一样bounce back and forth. cheese 现在回想起来，面包第一封信的口吻完全是一个严厉的中国父亲的。在那个情形中，他没有错。作为一个中国女儿，她的忏悔和不安也是完全理所当然的。问题是她是要继续选择做一个中国女儿呢，继续在乞求着严父的原谅中和忍耐中生活，还是做牛肉所希望她成为的以自我情绪为中心的站在自己的脚趾上（stand on one's toe）的西方女性－－这样下去，你这一年一定是最最不快乐的一年，stress out所有的人，不如及时了断。美国人想，连fun都不能have了，这日子还有什么劲。保护自己是天经地义的，不是自私的表现。什么叫忍耐，什么狗屁逻辑忍耐是东方文化的精髓。牛肉在她那有着若干个小佛像的办公室里，在曾经为cheese解释什么叫做karma的办公桌前，还有在有着她甜蜜的另一半的那有着肩膀上的一个大大的文身“道”的照片的电脑前气愤地说。

cheese的逻辑和和感情还是很混乱。选择任何一方，都象是背叛自己的另一面一样。并且在这个混乱中，她看到自己的论文毕业计划粉身碎骨地破灭了。她在思考要是Woody Allen来写剧本的话，这个故事该如何演绎下去。

Murmuring

2008-11-04T18:42:00.000-08:00

Grace has never felt so conscientious about her inability to like people that she doesn't like. She totally doesn't know how to ignore or suppress her feelings. However, she now feels very bad for confronting with bitterness. How to not be burdened by this. How to not put herself in a battle. How to really consider everybody as individuals in process and disregard comments that upset her. So splitting. Hopes that this mental and emotional torture will be over soon.

Story

2008-10-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

So everything started with this picture. My Taiwanese friend S recently changed her profile picture on facebook to this one.

Seeing this picture, I felt confused, surprised and a little astonished. And the following is what I wrote on her wall:

"This picture is whom mocking whom?...Ironically, the whole visual style reminds me of Mao's propaganda posters in 1960's. If Mao is the subject being mocked, why is his cruel and drastic aesthetics being borrowed here? Isn't the use of "fei" indicating that new Taiwanese youths are still following Chiang Kai-shek's opinion on history, Mao, and China, whereas Chiang is the one that Taiwan wants to turn against and wipe out of history?

...Sorry that I'm not being critical of the epistemology of the message indicated by this picture, but I find it ironical in its reconfiguration of meanings. Indeed, the Chinese can probably use the exact same picture to mock the incredibly drastic view of history and reality from contemporary Taiwanese young people. ...Sorry, it's not really targeted against you as a personal message. And I hope that you may appreciate different views."

Here is what she replied:
"yes you didn't interpret the image in a wrong way.
It is designd by Freddy, the leader of 青年逆轉總部.
And it indeed borrows the aesthetic of early KMT during Chiang's reign (the image, style of words, and the color) to give an ironic portrayal of our president Ma.
If he is really following his predecesors' path, then why is he doing the totally ... Read Moreopposite things?

While we were still children, the KMT taught us that "漢賊不兩立" but it is also them eargerly promoting the union with China now. So this image is just pointing out how ridiculous those KMT are..."

Several days later, I received this message from her:
"Dear Grace~~
I'm gonna upload some pictures taken from the 1025 parade on my facebook. And some words/slogan may seem harsh (to China). I don't have too many Chinese friends but I don't wanna hurt anyone of them ha! So please understand the target of the parade is the China government who keeps threatening Taiwanese with hundreds of missiles(and also Ma Ying-Ju)instead of any of the personal friends!! ^^"

What am I supposed to say? I guess the thing that I learned most in Peggy's class is that everybody is a social-cultural being. That is, the collective identity is necessarily a part of the individual identity. Taiwan,Taiwanese; China, Chinese. Can't deny, can't escape. What would happen if our collective identities are enemies with each other? Can we still go across the boundary? I replied:

"Understood. =P It's really considerate for you to send this message to me. You know, if I was a Taiwanese, I would have probably done the same thing, joining in the parade. And I do have strong sympathy on Taiwanese people.

I, however, sometimes don't really appreciate this whole thing going to a drastic extreme pole. Many Taiwanese people in my life (not including you), can't tell the difference between hating the Chinese nation-state regime and the Chinese culture/people. Lots of incidents. I remember when we were eating together on a Chinese New Year's meal, one Taiwanese friend mentioned some customs that they practiced during the New Year. Out of impulse, I said it was what we did at home too. Awkwardly, the whole table went silent hearing this. I guess they assumed that I was claiming that we shared the same culture and thus, China was the origin while Taiwan was a follower. I kept my mouth shut throughout the whole meal then. Imagine the whole scene, what a perfect moment for a movie. In fact, I found it really hard to make any Taiwanese friends. A careless joke can deeply hurt both of us.

I understand that the Taiwanese identity is necessarily building on the idea of being different, but sometimes it scares me as how it can torture notions of humanity and history. As human beings, people of different ethnicity and countries share lots of things in common, let alone two people with such close culture relationships. And why claiming one's identity has to tear up this layer of cultural connection, denying the various similarities that we all have?

Well, I guess that I've spoken too much again. =P And I do feel sorry for Taiwan people because of the coercive control from China's nation-state. I wish these boiling days will be over soon. =P"

I don't know if I was being overtly sensitive or emotional. I just hate having to be so cautious when talking to a Taiwanese friend, to make sure that I'm not hurting their dignity. And, how ironically, it was a Chinese New Year's meal. Why do you even bother to celebrate something "Chinese", if all you want to do is to drastically break away from the tradition? Identity itself is full of self-contradiction and fragmented moments. To acknowledge it takes one a lot of courage.

Why notions of humanity, history and culture have to be the victims of fighting for the national identity? When I watch Hou Hsiao-Hsian's Three Times, can I just say that he vividly portray three love stories that happen at different time periods of China? Do I have to make the politically-right statement that it is about Taiwanese culture, not Chinese, whereas the truth is that a lot of his imagination for the movie came from his understanding of Chinese culture? Ultimately, can one definitively separate the two?

Then, here comes the photos from the parade. I was inspired by their passion for fighting for independence, as well as, overwhelmed by the hatred and viciousness for their enemy.

Why in Japanese? Nostalgic for the Japanese colonial time? Indicating that it is better to be a Japanese colony than anything else? Sorry, maybe I'm being vicious.

Below this picture, I commented something like even panda is victimized and politicized. Of course, I was then reminded who politicized this cute animal first - the Chinese themselves.

In response, she wrote back:
"You're right that the poor animal is so victimized.
But think it in the other way, it's the only way to voice our identity to the public/world. We can't even bring our national flag to the Olympic and any kind of international events!! So the animosity is actually from the pain of being denied by the world. And I am really thankful for your understanding and support. I really wish someday China will understand the fact that we're indeed an independent country then probably both countries can have a real diplomatic relationship instead of being filled with animosity in between..."

One picture she deleted later. And that was the picture that really showed how pernicious this war can be. Basically, it was someone holding a slogan, written "支那男妾"，insinuating their current President. "支那", such a denigrating term. The disdainful slang that the Japanese and the West used to denounce China and the Chinese. Look at who is using it now?! I can't hold myself from feeling upset. Why fighting for independence means viciously attacking the other? Is this resentment going to be curing and relieving for Taiwan? Just like the apartheid in South Africa, it is going to be a scar, a wound for both people. Unforgettable, unbearable.

She replied:

"hello 葛瑞絲小姐,
it's my response about the "男妾" image.
I've decided to delete the picture and sent you the reply privately.

==
yap i've hesitated a while to upload this picture.
But I still do, just to point out that everytime while the China Government says "the small group of pro-independent Taiwanese are hurting the friendship between Taiwan and China," how they deny our existence in the world also hurt the general Taiwanese. The hatred doesn't come from nowhere. There's a huge pain tied with it. 神說要愛你的敵人真的很難耶, 尤其是當生存的威脅都還存在的時候...
==
喔喔談政治真是太傷感情了, 還是要用一下母語才有語言的熱度
(英文是做研究的語言~~)
不過很感激你這麼體諒耶!!!
你來台灣一定請你吃好吃的帶你去看海"

I wanted to go to Taiwan before, to the place that I could have been born at. The place, where most of my family left Shanghai for. I don't know if I want to go anymore, because I'm afraid that I would be suffocated in the heaviness of emotions.

I'm still one of the few liberal Chinese who support Taiwan's independent national existence. I, however, feel frustrated, sad, and hurt from what I saw and heard. Unresolved. Think carefully before you put any comments or questions, no matter which side you are on.

The Duchess

2008-10-23T10:32:00.000-07:00

This is a movie that outrageous feminists would throw stones at the screen; or, another possibility could be - they would teach their students and daughters that this is such a representative example of how British women in 1800's were victims of a patriarchal society. Unfortunately, I am not, but one of them.

This is a story about a woman who was defeated by everything. The moment she agreed her mother's choice of an arranged marriage to the Duke without trying to explore and understand the meaning of love, she has already succumbed to her mother's and the society's imposed authority. Of course, you may also interpret this as her innocence at the time. She was then, sooner than expected, insulted by her husband's treat of her, which was entirely valued by her ability to give birth to a male heir. Sex is a battlefield, while every sex is a rape with humiliation. When the Duke took off her clothes, looking at her nude standing body with extreme coldness and apathy on the wedding night, she was full of fear and shame. So what? Instead of trying to conquer the fear and shame, she chose to conform to and live by it, considering them as necessary feelings accompanied every marriage and relationship.

Whereas she has been considered as a possession for her husband, the Duke never truly belongs to her. Still, she has to learn to not care, to be apathetic, and numb with the Duke's presence with other women. When the life found out that there was still a chance to pursue love, she then found that her life was already in the Duke's hand. In the end, it seemed that her children was the bottomline that she couldn't afford to lose. I have no problem till this part. What can I say about a woman's motherly nature.

But then, the really ridiculous thing happened - after all the torture that she has suffered from, she found eventual satisfaction in her life through her children and the friendship with her husband's lover! The ending seems to indicate that there is a genuine chance she and the Duke can forgive each other. How could that be possible? How could she forget and forgive, pretending nothing has happened? And how could she rediscover loyalty and trust in the Duke again? She and Charles Grey, her lover and the later British Prime Minister, smiled at each other with guilty at a party when everything was over, as if they shouldn't have fallen in love with each other, and it was no more than a wild crazy dream that everybody would have had when they were young, which was so disturbing to the real life. What has exactly made her feel so? This is just totally unimaginable to me.

Ebert commented that this was not a typical Jane Austen's light-hearted love movie, but a movie of realists. Realists in what sense? People dare not face their honest feelings and can magically start to forgive and appreciate the ones that once destroyed their life? In addition, Kiera Knightley is a little bit overtly done, too flirtatious. The movie totally doesn't reveal how a woman gets changed and aged from an innocent teenager girl to a mid-age woman that has to endure emotional traumas.

I watched this movie on my 26th birthday night, with the purpose that by loving or hating the movie I may get distracted from thinking about my own life. I guess the movie was pretty successful in that, coz I spent the rest of my night indigenous with the storyline.

1

2008-10-09T14:27:00.000-07:00

她发现她和库切一样，人生总是处在逃离和回归之中。

逃离那个时间和空间的核心。

她要抹灭一切那个时间和空间带来的痕迹。她要变成一个没有口音，历史，年龄还有相貌的特殊特征的人。

就是要这么残忍地刻化出这段空间来,否则她会被那个核心所吞没咀嚼。

就象库切从南非逃到英格兰，为了可以逃离权力, 从而得到权力; 为了逃离无法解释的青春和人性，从而得到对耻辱和成长的淡忘; 为了弥补时间的横轴所不能化解的，要纵深地理的纵轴.

就象库切莫名其妙地到了伦敦的IBM里终日面对着数字和编码, 她到美国中西部的小镇上的校园的某个角落，终日在同样的电脑屏幕前研究文化理论.

逃离是一种信念和动力.

她甚至开始寻找在澳洲工作的机会.要让空间的多样性模糊单调的自我.

就象妥斯妥耶夫斯基说惩罚是上瘾的, 通过逃离和寻找边缘化来惩罚自己与生俱来的也是上瘾的.

为什么要逃离呢, 是因为她知道她本质上是无法逃离的, 还是，因为官冕堂皇地说因为距离的存在才能产生深刻的思考呢.

内心深处，她知道她和库切一样地怯懦.

库切是这样追寻回归的.

他不复其繁地用极为枯燥以至于文化理论都变得生动了，以至于不得不极其集中的思想阅读的，又突然间夹杂着非常震撼的片刻的语言, 描写一个悲凉的，与人性的种种卑劣和惰性斗争的，拥有着复杂的社会矛盾的，老人寻求原谅和道歉被年轻人用暴力手段所拒绝的南非.

她象库切一样，每每构思起一个故事或者梦醒在某一个不能释怀的部落的时候，总是回到那个原点.

为什么要用这种非正大光明和痛苦的方式来追求回归呢，她鄙视自己的懦弱。

可是凭什么说回归的意义和方式是绝对的呢.

问题是，存在这逃离和回归的交错中，是一种幸福合理的生活状态么.

Red

2008-10-08T12:51:00.000-07:00

Being a Chinese means that red is a color with thick and complex inscribed meanings;a lot of times, it is a color that carries itself with imposition and even oppression. So heavy cultural connotation, both good and bad - nationalism, culturalism, revolution, folk, and the chauvinist idea that red is a woman's color. I always run away from red as much as possible. There is no single piece of red in my closet, for that's a color I can't personalize and manipulate.

I firstly watched the movie "Red" during my teenage hood. For the first time, red seemed to be such a warm and sensational color. The French girl against the red drop can be so real and pretty. I didn't understand much of the movie at the time. And last night, when I was trying to watch it again, after the amusing presidential debate, with a challenging academic book in hand, I sadly found that I've not moved too much from the time when I was a teenager.

I did, however, enjoy greatly reading Ebert's review on the Kieslowski's Tricolor afterwords. Once again, sadly, as visual images don't force a single interpretation by sparing use of language, I was not able to come up with my own understanding. Ebert's description endows a significant level of specificity by giving a live consciousness to the movie.

Here are some quotes that I really like:
"As a young man this judge was was once in love, lost that love, and has lived on hold ever since. He all but caresses his emotional wounds. Although at first he rudely turns Valentine away, slowly he begins to tell her his story. There is a moment in "Red" where Valentine leans forward to listen with such attention and sympathy that she seems at prayer. Only gradually do we learn that the story of the judge and his lost love reveals parallels with the story of Valentine and her lover who is always absent, and with the life of a young law student who lives across from her apartment in the city--a student she has never met.

On another timeline, in a parallel universe, the judge and Valentine might have themselves fallen in love. They missed being the same age by only 40 years or so. Now that Hubble has seen back to the dawn of time, that doesn't seem a great many years. There is a passage in one of Loren Eiseley's books where he climbs down a crevice in the desert and finds himself looking at the skull of one of man's early descendants, who gazes back at him over countless centuries. He reflects that from a cosmological perspective, they lived at almost the same instant."

-- I actually think Wang Kar-Wai does a better job in presenting various impossibilities and barriers of time and space. =P

"In the trilogy, "Blue" is the anti-tragedy, "White" is the anti-comedy, and "Red" is the anti-romance. All three films hook us with immediate narrative interest. They are metaphysical through example, not theory: Kieslowski tells the parable but doesn't preach the lesson. It's the same with his "Decalogue," where each film is based on one of the Ten Commandments, but it is not always possible to say which commandment, or precisely what the film is saying about it. I know this because I taught "The Decalogue" in a film class, where we discovered that the order of the commandments differs slightly in the Jewish, Catholic and Protestant versions. "And in the Kieslowski version," a student sighed.

In the same elusive way, using symbolism that only seems to be helpful, "Blue," "White" and "Red" stand for the three colors of the French tricolor, representing liberty, equality and fraternity. Juliette Binoche, in "Blue," has the liberty, after her loss of husband and child, to start life again, or not at all. Zbigniew Zamachowski, in "White," is dropped by his beautiful wife (Julie Delpy) after he goes to a great deal of trouble to move her to Paris. Back home in Poland, he wants to make millions so that he can be her equal, and have his revenge. Valentine and the old judge in "Red" have a fraternity of souls that springs across barriers of time and gender because they both have the imagination to appreciate what could have been.

There is also, lurking unsaid, the possibility that this Prospero, so intent on studying the lives of his neighbors without involving himself, might be the catalyst for one final act of magic involving Valentine and that young man who lives across from her. That young man who might have been him, or, this being Kieslowski, might actually be him, his timelines overlapping slightly and specific details of course altered by circumstances.

The Columbia University professor and film critic Annette Insdorf, who knew Kieslowski well and often translated for him, says, "It's rare that you say about some film director, 'What a good man.' But he was. Very by-the-way, emotional, very non-sentimental, dry in his wit and in his bearing, but he really made an impression." Her book, Double Lives, Second Chances: The Cinema of Krzysztof Kieslowski, provides the key to his work in its title. Kieslowski almost never made a film about characters who lacked choices. Indeed, his films were usually about their choices, how they arrived at them, and the close connections they made or missed."

Stories are about lives. That is the difference between films for children and films for adults. Kieslowski celebrates intersecting timelines and lifelines, choices made and unmade. All his films ask why, since God gave us free will, movie directors go to such trouble to take it away. "Kieslowski truly loved his characters and invites us into a poignant awareness of both our limitations and our capacity for transcendence," Insdorf says, and you can feel that in the tenderness of every frame. The old judge in "Red" is harsh and dismissive, but with the sense that it hurts him, not entertains him, to treat Valentine so harshly. We see him like so many of Kieslowski's characters, swimming upward through a suffocating life toward the possibility that hope still floats somewhere above.

I connect strongly with Kieslowski because I sometimes seek a whiff of transcendence by revisiting places from earlier years. I am thinking now of a cafe in Venice, a low cliff overlooking the sea near Donegal, a bookstore in Cape Town and Sir John Soane's breakfast room in London. I am drawn to them in the spirit of pilgrimage. No one else can see the shadows of my former and future visits there, or know how they are the touchstones of my mortality, but if some day as I approach the cafe, I see myself just getting up to leave, I will not be surprised to have missed myself by so little."
--This is such an aesthetic project. I often feel the same way.

食蟹记

2008-09-02T19:11:00.000-07:00

Grace，江南人士。上不了台面的那种。
喜食带骨头，嚼不动，隐隐约约有肉却嚼不出肉的东西。比如说蟹，虾，鸭舌，鸡掌，等等。
Grace小时候最痛恨拎不清的菜。所有有陷的东西，搅混在一起的，比如说饺子，包子之类的，都在名单之列。
到什么地步呢，就是吃饺子的时候，Grace固执地认为，所有肉馅里都必定多多少少有肥肉的，所以她要很细心地把肥肉和瘦肉分开来，再把瘦肉给吃掉。
于是，全家被Grace逼得一年只能吃一次饺子。吃的时候还要绕着Grace走，因为怕看到Grace做分解试验的恶心场景。
Grace直到现在都清楚地记得小时候要被父母逼迫痛骂才能吃下一个小笼包，然后可怜兮兮大哭一场，变成全餐厅的spectacle，让爹娘握拳再也不要出来享受周末小笼包早饭的美味。
Grace的爹正好是相反的。他曾经说鸡身上最好吃的部分是胸脯，因为没有骨头。Grace小时候，她爹偶尔还做饭的时候，每年过年都要做熏鱼。那是她爹唯一吃的鱼，因为肉厚实，并且骨头很大。
Grace来美国之后，发现洋人真是不懂得吃骨头的乐趣。凡是肉，都是要被debone了，才是好肉。比如说鸡胸脯，牛排等等。连鱼都是没有骨头的。Grace常想她爹要是来了这里，肯定觉得这是食的天堂。
最贵的海鲜是龙虾。当然了，Grace也喜欢吃龙虾。可是往往吃完了之后，惋惜龙虾壳是肯定要扔掉的，于是开始怀念小小的连壳一起吃的盐水虾。美味啊。
在洋人的地盘里，Grace于是两眼一黑，开始了大块吃肉的生活。
她常常做的菜里面竟然有一道是火鸡丸子，就是买一pound肥肉瘦肉混一起的grounded turkey meat，然后和豆腐一起作成丸子，然后放到chicken broth里面煮。当然了，那火鸡肉的盒子上面写着97% fat free。所以Grace很Ah Q地想想和小时候被迫吃的小笼包比，这个还是好很多了。
今日Grace在沉寂了3个月之后，终于把厚厚一摞prelim answer放到每个老师的mail box里面了。于是决定重拾旧业，奖励自己，怎么着也要吃一些嚼不动的东西才成。
她于是先是去韩国店，在冷柜里一番苦战之后找到了一盒冻到地老天荒的蟹。大喜。遂买回之。然后发现不知道该怎么下手。冻的蟹不可以蒸吧，怎么炒呢，没有黄酒啊。
七晕八昏地终于把蟹做好了。
现在Grace在充斥着蟹的味道房间里打这篇文章。
琢磨着一个很俗气的问题，这些年来，是生活改变了她，还是她改变了生活。

夏天

2008-08-07T13:45:00.000-07:00

我脸上的pimple草长萤飞，一刻都不得停歇。要是有什么实在的符号直观地反映我的心理生存状态，这就是我的pimple的数量和大小。

我和Tahoe厮混了若干个星期。我想念那只常常趴在地上忧心忡忡叹气，憎恶洗澡，让我懂得很原始的爱的定义的大狗。

新生们开始成群结队地在绿街上晃悠。我也想象他们一样。一个人和某种文化脱节是不困难的。困难的是在找回来。或者是永远不可能有完全的复原的。原来我还是象若干年以前一样，把无病呻吟当作一种情趣。

还有什么好值得纪念的东西，一个夏天沉湎于无止境的阅读和写作中，本身是一种值得纪念的回忆么。

爸爸在电话中和我说要保重身体，尤其是我小时候常常贫血。跨越重洋跨越时光换来的牵挂，这样的付出是不是太沉重了。我当时离开中国是不是就是为了刻意制造出这个距离来，好让怀念和悔恨诞生和重复在这个无法填满的空间里面。

看着祖父母的一生被通俗的明星演绎，被大众的目光所消费，愤怒悲凉到无以复加。这是我的记忆，我的，为什么要被夺走呢。原来我在研究中置之度外地批评谴责的文化现象就这样荒诞地发生在我的生活中。不知不觉，我就由批判者变成了当事人。

最后的最后，我吃了一个夏天的韩国菜。所以大概我想的和写的也都充满了辛辣的味道了。

Philly, Philly

2008-06-18T12:43:00.000-07:00

Too short a visit. Conference. Awkward social skills. How do I improve? Why shall I improve? Is it about me suppressing another facet of myself?

I love Gayle and Sue. Awesome Australians.

I love Deb and Kelley. Who said women should always dress up and carry themselves like 'women'?

We happened to win the best paper award. The question then becomes, is it important or not; to what extent shall I consider it as an achievement to enhance self-esteem; and to what extent shall I think all honors are not more than illustrations of how others think of me, while how I perceive myself is more important than everything else.

For the first time, my body was so filled up by wine, margarita's and cocktails.

In the end, I didn't have a chance to have Philly cheese steak.

Knowledge

2008-06-13T08:25:00.000-07:00

Whose knowledge it is? And whose right it is to construct knowledge?

Several days ago when I read Rey Chow's comment on "Western anthropologists persistently neglect the colonial situation persistently lies at the origin of their field of research in most part of the world", I was shattered by her fierce criticism. I thought that I could never write such confrontational words.

Little did I know that exactly 3 days later, I was put in a even more confrontational situation - an anthropologist, a full professor, a colonialist with her stubborn Western ideas on what China is and Chinese should be; and me, a graduate student looking for a committee member. I found my situation was even more difficult than Rey Chow's - the disproportional power structure in between of us made it impossible for me to utter the powerful and emotional thoughts that Rey Chow has put in my heart.

The Chinese people's opinions and words shouldn't be accounted for because the video was not made for them. It was taken-for-grantedly made for the West. Thus, the voices from those who are supposedly represented in the video should be subdued. In its reflexivity, China is only important when it's positioned in relation to the West. How Chinese consume and interpret this video doesn't matter because the Western world don't care.

And this is the logic of constructing knowledge that has been practicing for hundreds of years. This is the knowledge that they want to see and repeat, the construction of which, ironically, conspires with the imperialism/colonialism. And it misleads us to believe in this is all about an objective world that you can grasp and see.

Knowledge.Objectivity.Positionality.

monologue

2008-06-03T15:56:00.000-07:00

A moment of fun can be easily superseded by the following stress.
I feel that stress is like an inside demon swallowing me, making me hate, be anxious, depressed, and angry.
Everyday I see books on my table piled up higher and higher.
And everyday I'm getting more and more lost in my own writing.
Thank you for your caring concern, but please don't send me condolence if you see this message.
I just need a quiet moment to acknowledge and mock my own weakness.
Then pretend that I am a strong woman to let life continue.

Murmur a story

2008-05-09T12:40:00.000-07:00

We three Asians, sitting separately in the suddenly spacious coffee shop with lots of empty tables and chairs, on the afternoon of the last day of the final week.

Three lonely people.

I'm a spy.

He must be Taiwanese or Chinese. He must have been in the States for a long time. And he is browsing pictures of the landscapes of Shanghai on Wikipedia. Unbelievably tall skyscrapers. So arrogant, militant and resisting. Does he know that there is a Shanghainese girl sitting behind him? Does he know that the pictures he is looking at is a Shanghai in the touristific images? Would he want to know the Shanghai that's in my memory?

A lonely guy.

She must be Taiwanese or Chinese. She is super sensitive. She only wears safe colors - black or blue. But she always have cute accessories. Once I saw her wearing a turquoise ring. very low key but elegant. She must know that I've been observing her. She hides well. I remember she has an Indian boyfriend. A very gentle yet masculine guy. I like her and I want to be her friend. But I don't know how to invite myself without breaking the silence awkwardly and abruptly.

Three laptops.

The common air we breathe in.

Three parallel life stories.

Mom

2008-04-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

Every time before I call my mom, I always think that no big deal, that I can handle it, like I have been doing it for all my 25 years of life. When the moment that the two phones connected, and a familiar voice said "wei", I know that I'm wrong again, that my continuity in the life here in U.S is interrupted, that I've traveled to my perverse past in China, that something between me and my mom will never be changed and forgiven.

I often feel that it's quite unfair for Nick because every time after I call my mom, which, of course, involve a lot of yelling (to two American ears),anger,crying (some times), he feels so sorry for me. He feels that once I pick up the phone, starting to speak Chinese, I'm turned into a different strange person. If he knows the complexity and the history that I don't know how to describe between me and mom. The way that my mom never thinks there's any distance between me and her, never thinks that her words and actions may hurt me, because I'm her inner self - how could a daughter ever be angry with her mother? How could an inner self ever fight against and contradict drastically with her?

Every time after I talk to my mom, I couldn't help but staying silent - a moment silence that I need to travel back to my normal life. What has happened? Can I ever use a simple word such as 'good', or 'I just talked to my mom' to describe what's going on in my mind and life?

Heavy memory. Unbearable. Yesterday I was still an outraged teenager who was angry with my mom all the time because her habitual ignorance of my feelings and thoughts. Overnight, I have to, no matter I really want or not, put away all those memories to generate sympathy and forgivingness for my mom. Stop thinking about yesterday, for its existence is no longer meaningful. But it's my past, why I have to give it away.

I love you, Mom. I know that our relationship is not something that belongs to an ordinary mom and daughter's, despite how much I hope it is, so that life will be so much simpler and easier, so that I won't be so splitting.

I love you, Mom. No matter what.

memory

2008-04-05T12:45:00.000-07:00

About the same time last year, I was on the Blue bus going to class. Then I saw that girl, the girl who had the exact same eyes and bang hair style with Lijie. The eyes like the ones of Peking Opera performers - the eyeline goes upward till it touches the temple. The bang hair like a Chinese doll. I knew she was not Lijie. She was Japanese that I knew, don't ask me why. I kept looking at her until she withdrew herself from my vision. I wanted to hold her hands and tell her that she looks so much like my best friend in high school. I wanted to tell her there was a second I thought I was on the school bus with Lijie in high school - like I was always trying to get close to her through the crowd. I wanted to tell her that Lijie is now somewhere in Shanghai and we've not been talking to each other for so long. I wanted to say that Lijie is always a precious part of my memory, something nobody could take away from. Then, I saw her getting off from the bus at the education building. That tiny Japanese girl. She would probably never know that how much a stranger connected to her on that bus and would always remember her for that a few minutes.

This week I was working in the Green Street Coffee Shop. Then there he came in, a boy who made me feel that Yihong was walking towards me again. He must be some Asian American or a cross-blood. I don't care who he is. I just want to request myself what memories he brought to me. How much he made me feel displaced, temporally and spatially. I thought I was still that silly teenager girl,biking with Yihong at night in Shanghai's streets. For so many reasons that all of us have changed so much. So stupid to see that what we perhaps have in common now is only memory. Memory that I often revisit and relive. Experiences of aging, losing, gaining, remembering and forgetting. Don't tell me not interact with reality is a shameful thing. But memory, endless memory, my valuable treasure.

April shower

2008-03-31T15:52:00.000-07:00

April showers bring May flowers.
And I'm sick all the time with the non-stopping rains.

Piece of History, Anne and Me

2008-02-16T08:04:00.000-08:00

Me and Anne Burkus were sitting in her office, a nostalgic room full of books and paintings, old and new, Chinese and Japanese. The room somehow reminds me of my grandfather's office at home, and my dad's messy office - a space infiltrated with the staleness of time. We talked about class, movie and Chinese painting. As I was about to leave, Ann told me:"I landed in Taiwan in 1976, and that is my China."

Mao died in 1976 and the whole Taiwan was so nervous, not knowing what's going to happen. The moment Ann stepped on the land of Taiwan to study Chinese art, she was as nervous as the Taiwanese people who were waiting for her. Then soon there came Nixon who visited China and agreed to withdraw the military base in Taiwan. For Ann, she lost her chances to get free ice-cream and peanut butter. But for Taiwanese people, they felt deeply betrayed by U.S. They were outraged. Overnight, everything was at risk. Everything was at stake. Nobody was trustworthy. Nothing was secured - the individual lives, the tiny island in the East Pacific Ocean. Cab driver yelled at Anne because unfortunately she was American and more because, there was nothing could be done to the situation. I always found it interesting to see how our individual lives are intertwined with historical moments - that's usually when dramas, senses of humors, tragedies or comedies arise.

Then she showed me recent works by Zhang Hongtu, some guy from Princeton who tried to create the effects of Monet out of traditional Chinese painting. I'm not sure if I like such a post-modern twist. His painting is on the right.

things

2008-02-12T14:48:00.000-08:00

慢慢的,就想不起来来拜访了
不知道是因为生活太忙碌丰满了,还是太忙碌丰满以至于空虚了.
什么是提醒我生活的客观存在.

我总是在梦中回忆,
伤感,愤怒,无可挽回.

"記憶對于時間又是多么膚淺的測度"
生活的繁琐,科学和客观对于梦和回忆来说又是多么地摧残,
瞬间而毕.

Little Rock, Arkansas

2008-01-04T16:33:00.000-08:00

Sweet couple: Bill and Hillary in my camera.

Black and white.

A piece of history:in my camera.

An old black man in Bill Clinton Museum. Numb when he saw me shooting a picture of him.

A glass tree.So fragile.

Another piece of work I made for Laura.

pictures

2007-11-22T08:59:00.000-08:00

This work I made in this thanksgiving is for Carla.
And that was me 3yrs ago in Chicago. Yihong took this pic for me. 3 yrs ago. Where did this time go?

In the break

2007-11-21T11:27:00.000-08:00

Letting memory fade by itself without keeping it alive is such a shameful thing. Writing novels is such a good outlet for memory. Why I am still waiting in vain?

Finding

2007-11-12T15:38:00.000-08:00

I guess I finally have some time to blog now. Is it a little bit sad to say that after an almost whole semester's trying, the biggest harvest is to realize that I am not really good at linguistics and I'm not going to incorporate any sociolinguistics in my future research? I just can't be as sensitive to the linguistic forms as other people, or native speakers. Is it only I who am feeling that linguistic phenomenon in American English self-privileges native speakers to do research on them? I really hope next semester's art class won't be so discriminating as this one. Well, at least, we all see the art works, and it is legitimized to have different approaches to reach understandings, is it? Don't tell me to be more assertive because I really feel my knowledge are so superficial. Or is it I know too much that I'm lost in my own articulation?

Something Random

2007-10-16T19:49:00.001-07:00

We were doing yoga. There was a particular difficult thing that the teacher asked us to do. So hard that the guy beside me couldn't help laughing out a bit. I guess the laughter means that this gesture is really out of his range. Of course everyone heard this laughter. Then the teacher stopped to say : "Laugh is good. Feel free to laugh." Then I started to think why laugh is encouraged; is the teacher saying that our inner emotions should be flown out naturally; but what I really wanted to do at that moment was crying (for reasons other than the difficult yoga); and if I did let tears burst out, am I putting myself in a very awkward situation; is it that in our consciousness, being sad is a shameful thing, whereas being happy is natural; is it that crying in public is a signal of begging for sympathy, even though I don't really need any. And instantly I was occupied by these rational thoughts, and the peak of sadness eventually evaded me.

I found I was subconsciously watching my thoughts and emotions in yoga.

I'm troubled by the question to what extent, one may give up ones opinion to others; and to what extent this compromise would really hurt one's self-esteem. Yes, I am that one.

I've been eating Korean food for a whole day. Korean food is such an interesting thing: if I haven't had it for a while, I would miss that spicyness crazily; and if I had it for two meals in a row, I would think this spicyness is so plain and dominant that the real veggies and meat loses their nature.

I guess I'm getting a little sentimental recently. Maybe because I'm going to be 25 soon. A quarter of a century. Wow.

Bloody Lesson

2007-10-07T14:07:00.000-07:00

I was murdered in the ethnography class. The lesson to learn is never say anything that is not for an altruistic purpose about my academic research. It's always about what is right for the research not for myself. Class presentation is never a private space. Any trivial fishy thing maybe exaggerated in the discussion dynamics.

Yoga and things

2007-09-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

I was rushing out of Huff, and Carla stopped me: "Hey, where are you going to, Grace?" "I'm going to Yoga." I don't know if I should feel bad or good or proud or guilty at 2:00 pm on Wednesday. Shouldn't I stay in office and do some work? Anyway, my honesty has already blunted any possibility of making up another answer. Carla replied with excitement: "Oh, I'll join in you guys sometime. I need some PEACE."

Why people always associate doing yoga with looking for peace? It seems even my yoga teacher thinks so too. She tells us to empty our thoughts, imagining they are green leaves floating on a clear stream that you can't touch or change them but let freely them flow. But for me, every time after my body is twisted, stretched and "tortured" to a certain extent, at first my mind may turn blank yet soon, endless thoughts would flood in. Those thoughts are quite intuitive, oftentimes bringing me to some remote part of my heart and memory that I wouldn't be able to reach and rationalize in the conscious time. They are not logical and consistent, but the imageries there are so clear and truthful. The library building in my undergraduate school, butterfly on the green grass, friend I've lost contact for a long time, Daddy, my little red skirt,3-year-old me,etc and etc. I am surrounded by those moments of memories, and I'm swimming in there. The past, full of pains and mistakes, is no longer fierce and fearful. In this gentle and perhaps "peaceful" mood, I feel I'm able to embrace and smiling at the history.

Unfortunately at this moment, the teacher would often say "Once your mind catch any thought, imagine the word 'on'in your brain. Let the word swirl." But I just want the thoughts control me and overwhelm me that I'm able to visit feelings and images I will only have in my dream, which however would dissolve once they meet the air of real life. I guess I can never do really well in yoga because my mind is never clear and as a reflection of that, my body is not perfectly balanced.

My Yoga teacher is Jenn Allen. She is a really nice patient lady. Every time after practice, she would tell us to sit and bow, murmuring to the ground, ourselves and everybody: "Shanti,shanti,shanti." (which means "thanks" in Indian, I'm not sure if my spelling is right.) So humble.

Shanti,shanti,shanti.

Becoming Jane

2007-09-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

I went to see the movie while I was sick on a pleasant fall Sunday afternoon. To be honest, I was expecting it to be an easy hollywood love story. I was not completely wrong but there was something in there that touched me. Why did I wanna see it in the first place? Perhaps because I'm addicted to Jane Austin that I wanted to see how they portrayed her. Perhaps because I am a woman and I want to be a writer that I have strong empathy on such a woman and such a life. Perhaps, I don't know, maybe I have read a lot about how Jane writes about others, yet I have no idea how Jane is going to be created by others.

The girl they picked was, however, too beautiful and too shining to be Jane in my mind. As according to my memories of the readings about Jane, she was rather plain and hardly attracted any handsome guy's attention. I think it's perhaps why the female protagonists in her novels are usually not the prettiest,but with a brave, stubborn and passionate heart.

The movie basically told about how a tragic love story happened to Jane actually inspired her to write Pride and Prejudice. And therefore, the character of Jane in the movie holds a lot of similarity with Lizzy. She is playful, intelligent, stubborn, less passionate perhaps, more strongly tied to her family. She doesn't fall in love with rich and plain gentleman; she loves man with a humorous and distinguished character. The story was like a parallel to pride and prejudice; it's just the novel was deeply romanticized and idealized by Jane while interestingly, Jane's life story was romanticized by the movie.

I don't like the ending of the movie. It is too perfect and cliche. After so many years of painful sacrifice, they met each other again occasionally, looking deep into each other with complex feelings. If is as if time didn't really distant them and their hearts have always been together. What if it didn't happen in that way? What if they didn't see each other after she left him forever? What if they, like many real cases in life, forgot each other in the years after?

Lives in Jane's movie is, of course, full of oppression and struggle. Scarce choice as a woman, and perhaps as a man as well. You either choose to live with money without dignity or the vice versa. I'm not sure living in a modern society, if we have more choices or not. Nor do I know about what would people choose in life. It is my feeling that a modern life provides us more coping strategies, such as watching games, playing games, socializing with different people, that we don't have to face such sharp question. And that develops inertia within us - numbness crams into every space of the heart. Those love struggles only happens in Jane Austin's times, doesn't it?

时光

2007-07-31T18:35:00.000-07:00

刹那间她想起了复旦东门的那间叫做“左岸”的书店
却又联想到左岸这个她一直喜爱的名字是来自于巴黎的同名的书店
在那个国家有什么东西不是模仿的，剽窃的，进口的
是不是只有记忆呢

那个青色，黄色和蓝色交织的夏天
她发现语言是多么单薄的一种表述方式
她的记忆总是以印象，符号，颜色象征表现的
绿色的梧桐，鹅卵石的墙壁，青色的石板
王家卫说回忆总是潮湿的
她的回忆总是潮湿而绵长的

她看到红色金色组成的印象的时候
总是觉得浮躁而困惑
那个喧嚣的辉煌，遥远的
不是她的中国
可是每每当她解释起她的美的时候
却往往无能为力
泼墨画，石板路，木屋檐，宽松的棉布衣服
她是在形容她自己呢
还是那个国家的痕迹呢

思绪和诗意总是转瞬即逝
灰烬中只留下孤零零的理性
敲出一些拙劣的文字

My Work

2007-07-24T17:32:00.001-07:00

At least I've not wasted my time in summer completely;
I enjoy collecting book covers and creating new lives in them.

torn

2007-05-03T13:00:00.000-07:00

I was the boring one from RST department, who was not even able to talk about real movies in the Chinese study class. Oh, landscapes, how ridiculous; while Mike was talking about the three dialogues in Wang Kar-Wei's triologies. And I again played the boring role who talked about film effects on personifying landscapes in Bill's class. Who cared about movie; I was the victim of the class since I was trying to avoid too much on social power structure, dominant discourse. I'm really frustrated coz I feel how inadequate I am, in terms of everything.Painfully torn.

I hate meeting for deadlines

2007-05-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

One after one. Never feel I'm able to reach the best potential because of this confining restraint. Such an exhausting period.

the other side

2007-04-20T18:41:00.000-07:00

Brian asked me of my response towards the Korean killer. I told him that I actually think he is great in standing out breaking down the American sterotype of the "quiet, coward and peaceful" Asian, it's just he used a tragic and bloody way. He looked at me for 5 seconds and didn't know what to say. I knew I was not being very nice. It was not Brian's fault for being a white American male.

But the frustrating and suffocating thing is the American society's obsession with the superficiality. Everyone sees the cruelness and the cold-bloodness of a Korean-American monster, but no one is trying to see the reasons behind. Everyone is blaming on his mental illness, yet no one is trying to envision the life he has been living - a poor Asian boy growing in the Asian ghetto, eating the humiliation from the white counterparts "go back to China"! No one is ever trying to reflect on the mechanism of American society- how the bloddy racism turned a healthy boy into a psychotic, let alone for anyone to have sympathy on him and his past. It is as if he is not entitled to any right to fight. It is as if he should just go and hide himself in the Asian ghetto, somewhere in Chinatown, washing dishes all his life like his parents. Whatever miserable life he is gonna have, as long as he does not come out and kill white people.

It's not we Asians are by nature quiet and conforming- it's we have to be obedient to the dominant social discourse to be "a good citizen".

By no means I'm trying to justify for him. It's just the other side of the story that help us more than mere hatred and revenge. Mourning for those who were killed. Mourning for the killer. Mourning for our feebleness to change. Mourning for Asian Americans. Mourning for America.

poem and nature

2007-04-10T17:37:00.000-07:00

The structure of nature is image;
the structure of image is poem.
Nature never exhausts itself.

定风波

2007-04-01T10:46:00.000-07:00

莫听穿林打叶声，
何妨吟啸且徐行。
竹杖芒鞋轻胜马，谁怕？
一蓑湮雨任平生。
料峭春风吹酒醒，微冷，山头斜照却相迎。
回首向来萧瑟处，归去，去无风雨也无晴。

Forms

2007-03-16T22:16:00.000-07:00

The furthest distance in the world
is not between life and death
but when i stand in front of you
yet you don't know that
I love you

The furthest distance in the world
is not when i stand in front of you
yet you can't see my love
but when undoubtedly knowing the love from both
yet cannot
be togehter

The furthest distance in the world
is not being apart while being in love
but when plainly can not resist the yearning
yet pretending
you have never been in my heart

The furthest distance in the world
is not
but using one's indifferent heart
to dig an uncrossable river
for the one who loves you

--Ranbindranath Tagore

I've been reading Norweigian Wood by Haruki Murakami in English recently. God knows how many times I've read it in Chinese. When I bump this poem tonight, I suddenly feel nothing is more able to express the feeling that is aimed to be described by Murakami. Love stories are alike. But they just take different forms. Sorry if my definition is too arbitrary.

observing

2007-03-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

Watch the flow of your thoughts, your sadness, your emotions. Imagine them as green leaves, floating on a stream. Don't engage and interact. Just stand aside, observing it. You are no longer yourself now. You can see through yourself now. You become a container of emotions and feelings which are too fragile to be touched. Let them go and
be released.
- from my counselor Ann

ambiguity of words

2007-03-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

How can we accurately convey our private experience to others - report accurately on what we feel or see?
How can you reduce the complex, ever changing flow of consciousness to a single word like "sadness" or "love"?
How is it that words can correspond to the world as it is?
- Traditions in Trouble

Comrade, Almost a Love Story

2007-03-10T18:00:00.000-08:00

My yoga class is the section of "Yoga and Meditation". So in the end of the class, the teacher usually turns off the light, turns on a piece of contemplative ancient Indian music, and have us meditating for 5 minutes. I enjoy this moment of peace so much that everytime I finish the class and come out of the classroom, I am always hit by the strikingly contrasting strong white light and the loud masculine music in the gym. So dazzling. God, America again. It was the exact feeling when chen yuanyuan (how much I hope she is still around)and I came out of the little dark restaurant across the street of our school gate, finishing this movie "Comrade, Almost a Love Story", staring at the sunny sky on a Sunday afternoon in the May - God, it's real life again.

I don't hate the strong light. Nor do I dislike real life (well, maybe I do =)). What really disturbs is the short transition from the meditation, either on myself or on the movie, to the real life. I feel being arbitrarily interrupted. I feel unable to articulate my thoughts and to achieve meanings from my interactions with the movie or the contemplation.

Well, 5, 6 years has passed (God, again). A transition that is long enough. But I could only think of one sentence to say: a love story about how to arduously prevent from falling in love with each other. How self-controversial. This theme is similar to "In the Mood for Love" and "The Bridge of Madison County". A story between two rootless Chinese mainlanders in Hong Kong. All about supressing love.

Seems my version of great love story is always about unfulfilled love. Hopeless yet endles love.

Somehow today I've got this urge to watch it again. But both Amazon and Ebay are out of stock of the DVD.

Sentimental

2007-03-01T18:09:00.000-08:00

It is always fun and adventurous to read something in Chinese in office. Maybe it's because I feel I am in U.S more than anywhere else that I have already internalized the subconsciousness - don't intrude the public space by carrying a Chinese hallmark. So when I opened er mao's long e-mail in Chinese, I felt displaced yet excited. She's gonna go to Germany for Ph.d. Great. 12:00 Wensday noon, Brian was saying something to me, but I stared back in a blank face. Across the hallway, Laura was talking loudly over the phone. I was daydreaming, desperately wanting to see, hug and talk to ermao right now, like we once were, in Nanjing, in China. Some unknown feelings crept up on me. How suffocating and annoying. But I could not figure it out.

I was doing Yoga this morning. The teacher asked us to sit still and meditate in the end of the class. Along with the mystic Indian melody, I thought about my friends all over the world. It seems we were once so close, believing our life would always be connected to each other somehow. But now we are parallels, perhaps never gonna have any intersection again. What sways between us is a fragile sentiment called memory. Through this glass window of memory, I could see and relive the past, but never able to touch it and possess it. Unconquerable distance. Why is it like that! If that's the way life it is, I wish I have the power to change it. But I don't. I am feeble. If there is a map of us - me and those who I love and care, and vice versa, then I'm just a little tiny spot in North America. We are essentially disconnected. But we think we are. I got incredibly sentimental in the end of the class, tearing a little.

Last night, me and Lindsey spent 1.5 strenuous hours, sorting out and categorizing those glass containers, paper boxes, plastic bottles that had been piling up in our kitchen. On our trip back from the recycling center, Lindsey and I both felt very relieved. She said: "At least there's something controllable in your life. At least we are able to choose to send things to recycling center instead of throwing them away." How great is that, now I feel. I wish I could choose which piece of memory to go to the recycling center. I wish I could always keep those moments fresh and new, like they are still happening and ongoing, just comming out of the recycling center.

江南忆

江南好，
风景旧曾谙。
日出江花红胜火，
春来江水绿如蓝，
能不忆江南.

江南好，
最忆是杭州.
山寺月中寻桂子,
郡亭枕上看潮头.
何日更重游.

little things

2007-02-25T10:45:00.000-08:00

Had cheese and kimchi for dinner. What a combo! One is stinky for westerners (kimchi), and the other one is stinky for Asians (cheese). Anyway, I am fond of this weird mix.

Listened to "someone's daughter" by Orton over and over again. The sad lyric: "I wish I never saw the sunshine, I wouldn't have minded the rain...wouldn't be this pain.." If I didn't know what is happiness, I would not mind being unhappy. If I did not grow up in the southeast China, I would not have minded this chilling Illinois weather!.....How dialectic!

I wish it won't be so awakward and hard for me to balance my body and mind when doing yoga soon. Always admire those who are able to handle their bodies and minds with ease and peace.

runaway individualism

2007-02-15T19:30:00.000-08:00

I read this interesting piece today:

I frankly see the root ofour problems today as a crisis of interpersonal relationships due to runaway individualism. Runaway individualismforces men to keep their thought but especially their feelings fromeachother.for fear of rejection they have no except therapists to whom they can unload their worst fears.Worse,to avoid being a victim they often have to draw first.

....Intimacy has become such a scarce commodity that many seek salvation in improved communication or as participants in so-called sensivity training sessions (Hsu, 1981).

How interesting ! Yet how very sadly true! Am I a runaway individualist? Am I not?.......

Iris Chang and Me

2007-02-13T11:09:00.000-08:00

The story between Iris and me is rather "dramatic"-dramatic in the way that I've never met her in person but I've kept fantasizing over her life, we are connected by UIUC (how cliche!), and the first time I got to know about her was, actually, from her obituary.

That was a friday in the spring of 2005. I was rushing through the Stuart Hall in Purdue. In the corner of the hall way, I was stopped by an Asian boy who then bowed to me, said something in Korean, and handed me several magazines. I did not have time to explain that I was not Korean nor Korean American. So I just left with his gifts. That afternoon, I read those magazines in the Union. They turned out to be publications from the Korean American community and one article caught my eyes- a talented Chinese American female writer suicided. My first instinct was "Gosh, she was so pretty! Why did she choose to die!" (sorry, but that was the quality of my thoughts). Her face, associated with the red cover of "The Rape of Nanking", was thereafter engraved in my mind. I was also wondering why this was published in a Korean Americans' magazine: because Iris was Asian American, just as themselves? Or because they felt the same painful for the war?

I read two very unhappy books in the summer of 2005. The first one I bought in the bookstore in Pudong airport, when I got off the plane to Shanghai. It was "Life and Death in Shanghai" which was once recommended by Winston. It was about a piece of traumatized history- represented by a mother and a daughter's tragic lives in the Cultural Revolution. So I read it over during the whole summer in Huangshan and suffered enough hedache from the miserable history accounts and the dry narratives. In the year of 2005, looking back to see how China has been going through 40 years ago, I found it to be so ridiculous, heavy, and overwhelmed- why people hated each other? Why there was such strong resentment? Why humans are so easily to be manipulated? Why is the humanity so fragile?

The second book I picked was unfortunately "The Rape of Nanking". This time I bought it in the bookstore of Pudong airport on my way back to the States. On the plane, sitting beside me was an American white male. Seeing me reading this book, he said "Don't read this book. It's so unhappy. I'm never able to finish it." I thought he was pathetic-after all, it was just a one-hundred-page-or-so booklet! But it turned out to be my fate too. I felt so hard to just swallow hastily the atrocious facts and to really relate it to the world surrounding me. I guess I could not read it because the fear that crept up on me- the fear to know what the world really is. And how astonishing it was that this incredible courage came from a female-the pretty girl on the cover (sorry for my bloody gendered stereotype)!

Now she is dead,for reasons so obvious yet so unknown.

Uncle Larry just sent me an e-mail, saying Taiwan is abbreviating the acounts of Nanjing Massacre in their school history books because it happened in China - a "foreign" country, thus it's no necessary to elaborate on it. I'm rather speechless. I bet Iris would feel sad, too, if she was still alive, because she herself was, according to the "definition", a Taiwanese American. It cost her a life to dig out the truth. And it cost a night for Taiwanese government to deny the fact (the fact that we were at least the same country at that time). History witnesses the ironies of itself. Not we human beings are manipulated, but even the history cannot avoid to be slaughtered.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter.......and Spring

2007-02-06T14:36:00.000-08:00

A movie good enough to tear down my stereotype of Korean movies.

Just as it is reflected in the title 'Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring', the whole movie is thematized of the Buddhist philosophy - the world, including human lives, is constantly on a continuation, passing on and on, cycling, endlessly. There is no death. So that there should be no fear for death, because our lives will continue in different forms after death.

I'm wondering if the inspiration of the movie comes from a dream. The story takes place in an entirely isolated small woody temple floating on a lake that is surrounded by mountains, which is too perfectly ideally Buddhist to be imagined as existed in the real life. The setting is also implicit of the Buddhist ideology: life is self-enclosed, floating around, ungovernable, and the most crucial part is to keep it balanced.

Spring. A little monk and an old monk. Don't know their names. Central theme: kindness and empathy. The little one learns it by a lesson: he plays with a fish, a frog and a snake by tying a small stone to each creature; then he finds them all died because their incapability to move and he cries confronting the scenes. Hereby the Buddhist philosophy that all humans are born kind is illustrated.

Summer. The boy has grown up. Then a girl comes. So innocently, purely sexy. The opposite kind of Tyra Banks. So vulnerable and defenseless and thus, all boys would fall for her. The monk is no exception. He seduces her. They make love on a huge rock and in the boat. Incredibly romantic. However, there is really no love here (to me). Only sex. It is as if he has been blinded ever since and all of a sudden, someone opens his eyes. Now he is able to see. The old monk finds it out. He sends the girl back and gives the boy a choice. The boy chooses to go after the girl, abandoning the temple and life he has always been carring.

Fall. Tragedy. The boy ends up murdering his wife and comes back to the temple. It is no surprise because in their relationship, a possession of each other takes over. So that what matters is the occupation of each other's body. When the boy finds out the girl dates another man, he kills her. The essential belief of Buddhism is the ultimate happiness lies in a balanced, peaceful, and tolerant heart which is strong enough to resist all worldly temptations. All sorts of lusts, such as sex and vanity, are intruding forces that will break the balance, stirring up turmoils. That's why temptations is the source of evilness.

This boy comes back with a heart of hatred, unrestness and agitation. The balance is completely ruined. Seeing that, the old monk holds the tail of a cat, using it as a calligraphy pen, starting calligraphying on the outskirt of the temple ground. Then he asks the boy to carving out the characters on the ground. Buddhist philosohy comes again: concentration cures. Only by meditation people are able to restore the peace in heart. Then the police come. But they let the boy continue carving before arresting him. By the time he finishes it, he has already regained the peace in his heart ,exemplified by the soundness of his last sleep in the temple.

Life or death doesn't matter. What goes beyond them and what really should be counted is the peace and the balance. Losing the balance is even worse than dying. Why worrying, then? Why sad, then? What is more delightful to be contented with whatever you have, then?

Winter. The old monk suicided by burning himself on the boat. He becomes a snake. The life is always continuing, but in different forms. He-the snake-chooses to stay in the temple.

Spring again. A new monk comes. Then a small boy. The story, the life, and the cycle continues. What will be the story for this summer, then?

Turn Me On

2007-01-28T15:31:00.000-08:00

...........I am just sitting here....waiting for you......come on.....to turn me on, turn me on.... (Norah Jones)

People Who We Should Not Forget (I)

2007-01-13T13:41:00.000-08:00

I bumped into this from Willblog:

It's difficult to understand why someone would take their own life. It's even more difficult when that life has been so well-spent, with so much more promise to come. Similar tragedies in the past month make me pause and try to appreciate this moment, every moment, before it's gone forever.

Iris Chang, an extraordinary writer and alumnus of the University of Illinois College of Communications, was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound on November 9th. Her first book was Thread of the Silkworm, which told the remarkable story of the Chinese scientist Tsien Hsue-shen, founder of the Chinese rocket program who emigrated to the United States only to be isolated in America. Her second book, The Rape of Nanking, earned international acclaim and served to announce Iris Chang as a ground-breaking scholar and human rights advocate. He third book, The Chinese in America, told the extraordinary narritive of her own ancestors in a way that revealed America's own identity.

I had a chance to interview Iris Chang in 1995, and was immediately struck by her intelligence and humanity. Apparently she had a similar impact on everyone she met. About 100 people attended a recent event in her honor at the University of Illinois, where her former professors, friends, and colleagues spoke movingly about her life, her work, and our loss. A scholarship in honor of Iris has been established by her family, with information available at the University of Illinois College of Communications, 217-333-2350.

Iris' description of the recent genocide of Chinese in Indonesia:
It is important in all these cases to tell the truth, to refute the denials. .......In fact, the denial in Indonesia are considered as a part of the last stage of genocide. First the victim is killed, then the memory of killing itself is killed.

Starbuck's

2007-01-12T20:02:00.000-08:00

A Grande Latte never fails to awake my otherwise retarded and dull brain. But of course, you don't have to get a Latte in the Starbuck's. A Starbuck's and a Royal Cafe's tastes not much different to me. Hey, don't get me wrong, this article is not intended to be an eulogy for either Latte or the Starbuck's.

Liping threw a question at us: how soon do you think Starbuck's will go out of business? What a question! I was stunned for we just watched a brief video about how Starbuck's created a business model and a wave of coffee culture awareness globally! The class went quiet and nobody dared to give an answer. Seeing this, he asked another question: how often do you go to the Starbuck's? Carol, Grace? (We were two sitting closest to him.) How could I tell him that I go there almost everyday that an alarming amount of money of mine went to the Starbuck's yet I am addicted to it? Still, nobody answered. "I believe it would go downhill shortly,within at most 5 years. After all, who would like to pay a coffee at $3-$4 dollars? I would prefer a coffee at $1.00 in a gas station", he commented. Only me and Carol protested his prediction (maybe because others were international students who didn't go to the Starbuck's often or maybe they agreed with it). I was shocked by how much Liping did not know about American's coffee culture and coffee prices. Yes, a Grande Latte is $3.4, but a Grande expresso is only $1.5! Besides, they are only a few cents more expensive than those sold in other cafes!

Abruptly, a lot of words and sentences all came into my mind, suffocating me to death. I didn't want to argue with him in class. On the other hand, how was I able to verbaliz my experiences and let him feel the same experiences in the same way! To me, a cup of Latte in the Starbuck's was a refreshing, cozy and hearty moment, keeping me wondering my life could be lead in such an easy and light way in the voice of Norah Jone's. Just as what was revealed by the video, a lot of people working in the Starbuck's were graphic desingers. Graphic designers in a corporation selling coffee! Apparently, what the Starbuck's strived for was the creation of an experience-aromatic, invigorating, lively,cultural, etc. I was always so eager to read"the way I see the world" on the back side of the cup. All ingredients combined integratedly to create an experience with an esentially middle-class taste. I'm not defending this taste nor do I allow myself blinded by this superficiality of middle-class life. But I still treasure the feeling sipping a Green Tea Frappuccino, looking at designed coffee cups and pots with pretty graphs, browsing CDs, in a Starbuck's.

The class I took with Dr.Liping Cai was in the fall of 2005. It seems that the Starbuck's is still doing well. Liping might be right - it will go downhill in a short period. Or he might be wrong. Who cares? The event simply illustrated too much obssesive concerns on business/money issues and too little on human dimension- a big part of the reason that I left Purdue.

Words

2007-01-02T14:39:00.000-08:00

"It doesn't matter how much you are in love with someone. What matters is who you are when you are with the one."- The Accidental Tourists

"It only takes one generation to lose Chineseness.How many does it take to gain America?"- Le Ann Schreiber

Mediocrity

2006-12-28T15:03:00.000-08:00

I used to think there were only three kinds of people in this world: one type strive hard to be average; another defy the fate of being mediocre; the third choose to balance the two extreme cases- mediocre in some occasions while outstanding in others.

I grew up with the deep fear of being mediocre.As a teenager, the way I used to fight against the mediocrity/averageness/popular trends was rather foolish and empathetic. I had to identify myself with "things" instead of using my innate voice to distinguish myself. I chose to love blue and hate pink, because pinkish is too girlish thus a symbol of subordinacy and powerless-the cliche women have been placed in for thousands of years;I chose to listening to classic music instead of pop, not really becuase I was able to understand and appreciate the sophisticated form of music, but any popular trends- things make young people all alike- represented vulgarness (without any knowledge that pretending to like classics are even more vulgar and hypocritical).

Boom, I was sent to this new country alone at the age of 22. With the teenage rebelliousness having almost subsided, I desperately hoped that I could be like the appearingly normal and happy Americans around me-I could, like them, have blond hair and round eyes to not be stared at, with their eyes sliently telling my Asian otherness or uttering "you are a good looking 'Asian'"; speak immaculate English thus don't have to be always marked "foreign"; know approriate manners on all occasions.

To mature is a process where I learn to reconcile with myself, recognizing these I can't change and these I can. I guess I am lucky to be able to find a way to feel my existence-to give my voice to the research. Hey, I know how commercialized tourism research is. I promise myself that I will never give up looking for better ways to voice myself!

Maybe there isn't any mediocrity at all. Maybe the term itself has already framed and set rules for the wrold. Maybe making the best out of whatever you have is the best way to not completely reconcile with the standard prescribed.

time

2006-12-22T14:38:00.000-08:00

When Winston said his "cherished solitude" was going to be ended, I laughed at him because apparently it seemed such a nice thing to stop being alone and to have a family-someone care about you and someone you care about. Well, now I find there is at least one good thing to be single-you are supposed to be the biggest, if not only, owner of you time!

I usually feel hard to concentrate on writing something during daytime. My daytime is always fragmented-having classes from here and then;there's always someone stopping at my office asking for directions;and especially professors passing by frequently thus I always have to prepare to say hello to not appear insolent. While I use most of my daytime for socializing, talking and doing minor missions that do not take a lot of mental activities, such as grading, the night time is mine! I'm the night owl, the vampire of Huff hall!I can sing aloud,drink up whatever how many coffees and teas without being watched,and listen to "wiered" Asian music without caring others' feelings while writing.

Despite my satisfaction with my time arrangement which secures my working efficiency, not everybody else is happy with that. Laura is always concerned with the "safety" issue of staying over in the office too late alone at night, warning me of keeping the door closed. She also thought because I worked late at night, I must suffer from a lack of sleep. Actually I get up later than most people so I sleep as much as everybody else. I felt hard to explain to her that going to bed late cured my insomnia. Bryan also snudged me:" Maybe you will change a little after the winter break." Just to think it was Bryan, the nicest and the most sensitive boy I've seen, who suggested this.

I used to feel how to arrange time is one's clandestine right,just as choosing what to eat and what to wear.But I have to admit now that no one is an isolated island. We are all somehow connected to each other thus affecting or being affected by the ones surrounding you in life.

Shall I change my schedule next semester?...........

academic writing

2006-12-20T13:06:00.000-08:00

Don't flatter me that I know I'm not good at it. I still remember the fear-how it grasped me and swallowed me-when I was writing my thesis. Yes, I still remember Alastair Morrison's critics "like usual, it took me a long time to edit it". I wish I could internalize the ability of those marvelous writers and researchers-the skillful and artistic mastery they have in using this language to express their thoughts. All stress comes from how to improvise, how to tailor the words and sentences to reflect your thoughts.

I have realized that I'm doing a better job now. When Carla Santos handed me the two new papers I worked on this semester, she commented that I've done a great job without any hesitation. I was flattered, yet I found myself struggling in believing she was saying this because she truly thought so or she was just encouraging me since she was fully aware of my lack of confidence in the academic writing.

If life is all about conquering all the difficulties to be the person you want to be (that must be an agressive school of view), I've just made my first tiny leap.

Happy New Year!

2006-12-19T13:25:00.000-08:00

In spring, the place I went to most frequently and stayed in for the longest hours was the computer lab in Stewart Center. Somehow I felt more comfortable to work on a very private thing-my Master thesis- in a public place. I guess being surrounded by a bunch of people replying e-mails or reading news online helped to reduce my stress. Yeah, I was about to leave Purdue yet I felt I didn't know this place enough to talk about being a boilermaker. I was often joking that the part of my brain that controlled my emotions and feelings was almost paralyzed in this engineering school that engineering ambience has permeated into every corner of the campus. But all of a sudden, I found it hard to leave this place along with my friends as well as the heavy and the joyful memories behind.

In summber, I ate most, played most and talked most. I fell in love with that cozy town called Fort Wayne in the northeast of Indiana.

In fall, I threw myself at tons of readings in the new orange and blue campus-UIUC. Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining yet. I haven't told you how juicy those readings are and how excited I'm with the new prospect of the researches I am and will be engaged in. I'm not saying my Purdue research is dry, without which I actually can't be who I am now.

Just imagine while I had no computer and no office at Purdue, I have four discreationary computers and offices now! What's more luxrious for me to adjust to is Carla Santo's mentoring style. As it is completely opposite to traditional Chinese teaching style which always sets an invisible boundary between teacher and student, hers encourage intimacy and reciprocal understanding between the two sides. I find as much surprise as comfort and ease in this new fashion.

In class, I tried to break down the stereotype of the "quiet, shy, modest, no-opinioned, too-nice-to-say-anything" Asian. I guessed I talked too much in RST 501 until oneday the professor said to the class "a Chinese knows more about Western history than you guys", which sounded as if a Chinese was not supposed to be like that. That word completely quieted me down and made me realize that my knowledge which mostly come from highschool history class must appeared as "showing off " to the class. I am still wondering if I overacted to fight against the unspoken image that "Asians don't talk" or this image does not exist at all and only comes from my imagination.

In winter, I did two patchworks-revising the papers according to the reviewers' comments- and two new papers. I have to be honest that I don't like patchworks. It's always hard to satisfy with the pieces of researches that you have done a while ago. They always appear so immature while you feel unable to make it the one that represents your current self. But I guess it's just like one's life history, you will just laugh when you look back at the mischievous things you have done!

Well, best wishes to everyone who is having a baby or expecting to having one, getting married or expecting to get married, being in love or expecting to be in love!

Have an exciting 2007!