December 23, 2008


Posted in Uncategorized at 8:50 pm by changisme

"Home" is an onion word to me for the past few years. Home was where I slept and where my radio and books and underwear were, when my parents and I stayed put. At that time, home was the familiar smell from the cracks of walls; it was knowing exactly where the floor creaked; it was knowing all the neighbours without knowing when and how I knew them.

Then home was where my parents were when we moved around. During that time, the structures of the walls no longer mattered, but each night, there would be similar topics over food or TV shows. I could walk to the other room, taking for granted there would be two most familiar people, completely careless about what is covering their private parts.

After that, home becomes an ambiguous word, I hesitate to Beijing or China home, because I didn’t feel like I knew either very well. I probably knew less of it when I was there than when I left. However, it is home in a way that I feel my heart enlarges whenever I go back. My heart would pump blood more strongly and I felt like spinning round and round. I felt like smiling upon the thought of people I knew.

What about Vancouver? I feel I have more of a home here than anywhere else in the world. Maybe because if I were to move here now, my life would go on without much kicking and screaming. Then how about Seattle? I have an apartment there, all my *things* are there, and there are people I care A LOT about. My life also moves on as I’m living there now… Do I have to have just one home? Is the feeling diluted otherwise?


December 14, 2008

glass sculpture and snow

Posted in Uncategorized at 8:36 am by changisme

Yesterday I was downtown, above a coffee shop we went to there is a gallery called Traver’s and displayed glass work from a couple of artists. Once artist has all hir glass in the form of twigs and twine, "woven" into baskets or other containers. Each small glass pieces were shiny as crystal, showed all its crispy and unbending nature. My muscles twitched a little, because I felt a sense of inalterable destiny. They were held together in such intricate elegance, but they are exactly as they are individually. There’s no change in them because they are woven together. There’s no changing their positions. If the glass were in mashed texture and softened surface, I might felt otherwise, but the icy radiant saddens me. I could helpt but lifting a finger to touch it, just in case I’m wrong… maybe they were warm and soft afterall? But no…

As I walked outside later in the night, it was snowing, the streets were dusted by small snowflakes. They were hardly flakes at all in fact. Snow is beautiful no doubt, but for a while I felt they also look very lonely. They don’t care about each other, and aren’t influenced by each other. They come down into the world in their own accordiance, and stay on the ground just as they landed.

Then again, I collided in midair to form bigger flakes, they get scooped up and squeezed into a big snow ball but puffy soft gloves filled with cotton. They land on the nose of a squirrel and give her a little start and be shaken off. They are everywhere and tumble into all sorts of troubles. Is that because they were not glass, or was it because they didn’t stay in a gallery?

December 8, 2008

The Life of Pool

Posted in Uncategorized at 1:21 pm by changisme

So, after my stat exam I went to the UW pool for the first time. I haven’t swum since this summer in Malaysia I think! It felt soooo good.

The pool here is not as professional as the UBC one, but it also had fewer people. Instead of rushing in and out of the pool like boiling potstickers in a large restaurant, I enjoyed a lane, though short it was, by myself.

Water is my favourite element. It has the most soothing and yet the most powerful sound. The pool definitely doesn’t have the sound of waves or gurgling of stream, but when I duck my head under, I can hear the incessant chattering. Water has accents too. There is the water in old lakes, they scream and claw my skin; there’s the water in the grand tropics, they dance and roar in the most colourful dresses, as if I don’t exist; then there’s the pool of course, where the water is a little sour about its humble existence, though still full of energy.

My life is probably not so grand that it has an orchestra of colours, or exotic experiences for the dinner table. Probably it’s just like an indoor pool with people occasionally coming in and out, either to swim or to make sure I’m filled with yucky clorine, but I love my existence. It’s full of people and things I can gurgle or giggle about.

December 5, 2008

strange and long dream

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:11 pm by changisme

Last night, I had some indigestions, and though I slept uninterrupted, I dreamed for the whole time, of the same weird situation. I was doing things which I can hardly remember with other people, and there was a face on my tummy, with eyes and mouth and nose. Whenever she grins, my tummy would feel very uncomfortable, and when I breath or walk, I would always be afraid that the girl is uncomfortable, and thereby protesting. Somehow she kept on talking but had no soundbox. It sounds like a very horrifying dream, but it wasn’t. Neither me, nor other people (I had to have my tummy exposed) found it odd. The face was not scary, it had puffy cheeks, just an annoying mouth kept on grinning, and so I kept on feeling uncomforable…  I think Scrouge was right, indigestion does make you hilucinate.