Monday, November 12, 2007

Finding


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?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Something Random



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.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Bloody Lesson


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.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Yoga and things



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.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Becoming Jane


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?

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

时光


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

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

My Work






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