June 28, 2007

why purpose

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:22 am by changisme

Maybe I’m just short sighted, when I think about "God has a purpose", I don’t really immediately get comforted. These purposes do require some growth and prayers in my own heart to be seen as attractive. I find it hard to think, oh He has a purpose then such and such a thing happened is for the good. I could try to think that, but the pain is still there. I still think some of the pains are more real than the self-indoctrinating cliches.
 
In a way, I don’t really have a natural desire for the "grand purpose in life" as it were. I find life is full of beauty that I hardly need some ultimate destination to enjoy it. Not mentioned the ultimate destination does not allow me evade any consequences of falters by others or myself.
 
However, what I find myself hold onto so firmly are usually things I do not possess but value greatly. I want my heart opened to a calling, though I hardly have the courage or urge to receive one. Is it just my envy for those who do have such talent? I doubt that’s the truth. I think this involves some recognition of beings greater than myself. It’s really a way I direct myself through a course of humility, which I probably lack in a greater sense than the Confucious expression.
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June 27, 2007

trust

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:54 pm by changisme

It kinda hurt when my mom appears not to trust my honesty. I guess I’m not exceptional at being honest in my days of growing up, but I always take pride in the fact that my parents trust me and I honour that trust. A couple years ago, i remember is so well that a friend of my mom’s said something like "… and you believe her? Kids lie, Grace." My mom simply called me asked me if the truth is such and such, and I said yes, and she believed. I was so happy and remembered that phone call well. It’s hard to encounter such a moment of closeness though not exactly parental sweetness.
 
This time however… Did I lose that trust somehow? My mom’s friend asked me to help her and it involved some dealing of money. Her boyfriend said I’m a liar and fraud. I cared little, because I don’t even know the person. Later on, the woman whom I’m helping started to distrust me as well. I felt hurt. I thought… if you really don’t trust me, then don’t ask me to do all this. Still… I was quite dispassionate. I guess my mother felt quite stressed dealing with this, but she’s been trusting me, but just yesterday, she said she wants to see the bill. Maybe I"m just mistaken, but I was really taken aback and hurt. It’s this dull pain that subconsciously I want to fight back. Does she not trust me? Does she really think I’m taking advantage of that woman? Disregarding all the insanity and ill-logic that lead her to such a suspicion, but simply that distrust. I didn’t feel like talking to her yesterday. She called and I simply said, okay, and said I had to go. I hang up, eating the tasteless noodles in the dull cloudy evening. I didn’t know what to think really. It’s really a temptation ofthe devil, for me to pull away from those I love the most. At the same time, how real are these tricks life play on us! They are real like solid furnitures in the room, real like the waling of sirens passing the streets. They make me feel like I can ignore their existence and embrace "I love…" but at the same time can’t. I can say hullalujah and tell myself I’m a loving freak and xxx to every soul on the face of the earth, and at the same time laugh at my ignorance and pride over my fleshy humanness.
 
I suppose it could really just be a misunderstanding, I don’t really feel like asking, because my mom would certainly say no that’s not her intention. Will I be kind and open enough to believe what reasons she gives? Help me open my heart Lord… I know you are there. I’m not sure if I’m up to aleviating the pain at this point, but rather… I just hope I’m wrong in all this. It’s not really… the hurt I’m really worried about… really… hear my plea.

June 26, 2007

A note in my office life -> gone with the library

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:24 am by changisme

Now that the books have been moved out of my office, ie. I no longer work in the library, I feel rather odd. A sense of nostalgia slowly kicks in. I rather miss people coming in with their nerdy expressions. Colleagues, either in dressy attire or in T-shirts and sandels would wander into the room not quite making a sound on the soft carpet. They often startle me a little. And yet, they don’t really look at me or Jacky, but fix their eyes on the array of math books. Sometimes they would say hi and you’d no their minds are not on salutations at all. Each come in and go back out with some fat textbooks with things like "Monte Carlo" or "Finite Differences" or "… PDE" on their spines. It’s quite a sight though not much of an interaction.
 
Now they are gone, and hardly anyone ever startle me in my long stretches of thoughts, math related or not. Geeks do have quite an impact on me, you know. In a way, they probably care about things that don’t quite matter to the rest of the population, but don’t we all more or less? I don’t really think I willingly commit myself to being one of them, but I can hardly help it. Maybe I’m already one, just a rather green species is all.
 
Anyway, the process of library migration is near to the end. Now we only have empty book shelves lingering behind. They are ever so plain. One of them has an old scrap piece of paper (belonging to the recycling bin) on top, written "New Template". I find it sarcastic.
 
Do you actually think my life is normal now? Why don’t I feel like it is?

June 25, 2007

thunderous day

Posted in Uncategorized at 8:37 am by changisme

Somehow, I feel the more I try to be in touch with the world, the less so I become. Or… actually, that’s not entirely true, I become more in touched for awhile, but then I seem to over do it, and hence become detached again. For me, it takesa a little bit of an effort that doesn’t seem to come with my genetic asset. nevertheless, the feeling of being "within" is comforting.
 
So there goes the thunderous day. I was quite reluctant to let it go. I was trying to imagine all the massive collisions and the clouds’ growling as their bulky and inflesxible bodies career over the terrain and rigget mountain tops. They all of a sudden seemed so worldly because they actually make a sound!! throughout the winter, and spring, and even summer this year, they have been there, ignoring everything else, me included. Finally, they acknowledge… well.. as if they do think there is an audiance that lift up our heads in awe almost everyday, but cannot help but look away in sadness, because I could never make these lovely creatures know my presence.
 
I could well be that I"m just selfish and even now, thinking that they actually would communicate with me… but what can I deny? That is really my desire!
 
I wrote a letter yesterday, and usually I just write and write, without much barrier standing between me and the words. They come out though not inthe most elegant way, nor very coloquial. These time, I rather had a lot of concerns in my mind, and it all jammed up together wanting to come out. There are many things.
 
goalball was good, except it seemed shorter this time for some reason. Maybe because I took a nap in the afternoon, so I was all the more energetic. I don’t know why I love those people so much. That kinda love hardly contains any pretence. I need to hardly try. Although, I have done little with the people there outside practice. Stacy sprained her ankle really badly though, pray she’ll get better soon. Shane even said he heard a snap. I hope the ligament are not suffering too much.

June 22, 2007

purpose of an artist

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:03 pm by changisme

I often wonder what artists are supposed to do. Some people say they are to unveil things other people have a hard time seeing, but when we evaluate some art, like architecture or wall hangings, we evaluate them in a way like "oh this piece of art is very aesthetically pleasing." Or "you feel so comfortable looking at this".
 
I guess from my shallow understanding, aesthetically pleasing would mean that what the artist thinks of as good should be the same as what the bulk of population think as well. One hardly need any esoteric expressions or escentricity. Maybe they just need the knowledge in psychology.
 
On the other hand, if an artist is to reveal what is unseen to others, how could we "evaluate" them? There are art, I don’t feel comfortable looking at all. i feel a sense of dread at times. Are they bad art? They must be pretty good in order to have impacts on me. What about abstract art? Some of them I can simply have physiological daze. I was looking at this piece of abstract art, which really doesn’t have muc of a shake on me other than, mmm I’d like this over my dining table, cuz it looks like an omen for a peaceful life, even though I hardly have an idea what a peaceful life feels like.
 
I remember dad used to tell me how they used to not let him become an artist because he is colour-blind. I wonder what kind of artist mold they were carrying in their hands. The first one, it gotta be? Maybe we just want some affirmation in the chaotic lives we are leading, rather than some blinding insights.

June 21, 2007

clubbing

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:00 am by changisme

*I found my iPod again, which has just been hidden in some random pockets folded deep in the closet.*
 
Caprice is a pretty good place to dance, though I’m still not a big fan of clubs. My feet were constantly stabbed by heels of various shapes. I think there should be a rule like "no pointy heels on the dance floor!" Well… that’s not the real reason, I think it’s just that when I sit and see the blasting noise being almost silent. Everything is so flashy and everyone is in such level of indulgence, I can only see a massive chaos. That being the case, I just have to join in the crowd at all time in order not to feel sad, in order not to observe every drunken movement and the aggregate of them in sober details.
 
I hardly got over my melodrama, so the body contact was making me quite melancholy. Dancing in an environment such as that, one can hardly avoid some intimacy (any kind of dancing involves some level of closeness and trust, but that especially so). I have no  All I could feel is that my heart is somewhere else seeing a shadow fading into the mist.
 
In any case, the world goes around regardless, more work and goalball, even though I’m anything but clear headed. I didn’t even drink… well, one glass.

June 20, 2007

unimportant game

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:00 pm by changisme

I think this world is rather bizarre. During the lunch time presentation given by the front end guy in London with all his humour and PowerPoints, Nigel presented the market and further the world as a whole (as he talked a lot about the european culture and  his career as well) as this huge game. That’s really what I feel about finance in general really. Everyone is playing and with large estates. I have to say, it’s not all that boring, it’s just… with the values I hold on to, or at least I would like to hold on to, it seems a little unimportant.
 
On the other hand. There are differences one can make in this field. Economics is important to the human race, and the market as we see now is how we operate in this point in time. All profession, theology and medicine included are forms of praise anyway. I can hardly deny my selfishness that what I do is for the livelihood of myself and my immediate relations. If I go into medical research, is that going to be any better? I have definitely had the opportunity of seeing the swift changes and crazy competitions in the field, it’s hardly Mother Tarissa.
 
For me pesonally, is it really the direct impact of my job that excites me? Has that been the case throughout my schooling and working experience? I cast doubts on that. I know it would be nice if I were one of those people who are more interested in things that matter, like Mr. Freeman does. I might have been born into the chasm of a poetic life, where things I do really don’t save lives… Even though I have little pride to assume that responsibility in the first place, I am quite convinced that maybe… I shouldn’t have this sort of attitude… even if it’s true.

June 19, 2007

an unsuccessful diverging of attention

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:52 pm by changisme

Not being a farmer, I carry little disgust against summer rain. The difference now is it’s not warm enough. It’s Vancouver’s ocean chill that partly cultivated my swift walks. It’s better when it’s all warm and I’d be wet in a summer night. All one can make out is the silhouette of passer-bys and their rotating shadows under a standing lamp post. I quite miss my father at this point in time. gives me all the summer comforts for some reason. he sweats so much that his shirts adhere to his back half of the time. He cuts open a watermelon in the most deft fashion possible.
 
It’s all very weird what kind of "missing" I entertain. Now that I haven’t lived with him for more than five years, little of my life at its present form is filled by him. Is it then only the memories that bind us? I hope not… That would be very scary actually.  However, when I imagine him it would be images from times afar. He has changed little maybe, but he is still not who he was. In an ideal world of course I would be spending much time with someone I love so much, then what if the world is not so idealy arranged, so that Beijing is far far away?
 
My dad has a way of walking that makes you think he’s always thinking about something, although he’s probably not. My mom says that he’s looking for dropped wallet, because he’s always looking down and walking slowly swaying left and right. I felt that he’s looking at how hi shoes were matching the patterns of curbs and sidewalks. Who knows… everyone is a mistery.. and he’s not the only one.

June 18, 2007

hope and do

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:50 am by changisme

Stacey’s Cat’s sick. She’s had him for 15 years. Then Doug’s got his kitties back, and that also reminded me of Mr. Freeman’s Tundra…. and then I just felt weird about all these comes and gos around everyone. I still don’t really embrace the idea to be honest. I still want to hold on, my heart does anyway. Is it too strong-willed? I want to hold on to those beautiful things I have experienced. Not just to wet the crackling pages of a diary,  but also for the moment and for the hope of the future. I can hardly untangle myself form the disability of chronicality, as I still feel sad when the nice things come to pass.
 
After goalball, Doug was telling me how I should not think about the past or the future, just the present, I can see how most people interpret this kind of statement, but it’s so hard. He said we don’t need hope because we shoudn’t be wishing for the future, but I can’t grasp the idea of not having hope. Hope is the source my enthusiasm, the origin of my joy. It wells up and quench my thirst. Usually I’m not someone who has big emotional swings, but still… I need hope in my life.
 
At the same time, there are things one can only hope for, not always do and do to gain control, neither do I want to be the lord of my life and/or others. How much responsibilities to assume as I walk my path is so delicate…

June 16, 2007

The good part about forgetting yourself is that you stop thinking too much.

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:25 pm by changisme

The sea shore at Garry Point is such a different place at three o’clock in the morning. Even though the lights were strong from the nearby buildings, they were still and quiet. Water in the little bay is so calm that the lighted tower was staring into her own reflection.staring back at her. Everyone else was resting in the very comfortable silence as the sense of self slowly flowing away into the crispy night air. There were occasional gurgling of the water, mostly coming from the approaching commercial ship lit up like a far off paper lanttern (or a large insect?? LOL) It’s bewildering that the water carried these mesmerizing confessions in such a wordless lullaby.

* * *

Day of hike… Shortly after I woke up in a blasting daylight, we were on our way to Squamish. I was feeling tired at the beginning, but it only took a little time and sugar for me to totally wake up.

The Chief is a rather interesting mountain, quite challenging (for me at least) and with varieties when it comes to the trail. There were rocks that pretty much braise every step I took. Fir trees shot up from various altitude into the mists. Our sweat blended into the rain was smeared onto rocks and tree truncks. The more towards the top, the balder it is. There were metal chains we could hang on to as we clumber up some 45 degree or more rock faces. I felt quite strange thinking how water and wind can actually make the rock this way… Even though so much of the winter here, the rocks would be covered by snow (so the wind would have got to it).

On the first peak, we were entirely cottoned in fog. There was a cliff, I looked down despite the warnings from every other guy in the group, I saw almost nothing! There were shadows of tree tops extenuating.

I guess in situations like this, I’m so conscious of my arms and legs being in the right place, it’s more of a fun of participation, not so much the appreciation that make you forget yourself. It’s such a contrast, because I all of a sudden start thinking uncontrollably. Since I know myself to a certain extend. I know I’m just thinking too much and am right now quite relaxed abou tit, instead of trying to stop myself from thinking.

When we had some coffee in a Timmy’s afterwards, I felt so weird, because apparently other people aside form Jane, Charlie Brown and Plotty were kind of more chatting together, and I thought Charlie Brown would want the socialization with the othe rpeople, but somehow the four of us ended up talking together, and at first Nadine was sitting with us too, but somehow she wasn’t "in" our conversation, and soon moved to another table. It was weird, because we didn’t even just talk about people we know or things we know…. I forgot, but we talked about things like.. University residence, about tea and coffee… It really made me wonder why we just unintentionally excluded someone and back to our old group.

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