Art of Remembering

I'm currently reading the book Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer, and interestingly enough I went through a bit of self-analysis about my own thought process and ability to remember things.

For those who know me, my notorious short-term memory is bordering rude. Names escape me right after the moment they have been heard, dissipating into the thin air which the very syllables traveled through. Dick? John? Bob? What was it again? The garbage awaiting to be taken out of the house sits unapologetically at the my door step as I return home, despite all the little voices of reminders in the previous night telling me to take it out as I leave the house next morning. Apparently, even the visual cue of seeing the garbage at the door step can still somehow be missed. Telephone numbers? I'm lucky if I can recite my own mobile, let alone some one else's. And it seem, this 20th century handicap plagues not only me.

However, emotional events are imprinted in my mind. When I am upset, angry about something, every twitch of my muscle and strain in my voice amplifies intensely to the extent where I become extremely self aware. Then this heightened self awareness becomes associated the actual event, which explains why I can easily recall a previous argument with my boyfriend, for example, and bundle my old anger and new hatred all into the present distraught moment. My boyfriend is always amazed by my ability to recall a distant argument we once had. In essence, my emotion serves as a "index." Whenever triggered, they help me recall all similar situations in the past during which I demonstrated this emotion.  And it seems, this ability to index memory with emotions is shared by many women.

The book also mentions an common practice among mnemonists in which they associate a visual object with an idea they wish to remember. This part of the book reminded me so strikingly of my own path of learning Chinese characters. Despite never attending a local Taiwanese school, I would say my Mandarin level is at par with possibly many second-tier university graduates. I have no doubt that I owe much of my learning of Chinese characters to inspiring authors, varying greatly from the 李白、白先勇、金庸、朱少麟、九把刀、張小嫻、張愛玲... and so forth. Being able to subconsciously learn all these characters and their meaning by associating "strokes within a squarish form" fascinated me, made me look cool and knowledgeable, and most importantly allowed me to better convey myself. The last note being super important to me since I can be quite talkative and hate to be misunderstood. So my need to be heard and understood correctly coupled with the fun task of assigning meaning to all these 橫豎撇點捺折勾 allowed me to memorize a great deal of characters in a relatively short time -- about 3-5 hours a week in a Chinese as a second language setting for 7 years. That may sound like a lot of time and a solid Chinese capability may seem only natural, but let me assure you that many people in my Chinese class don't nearly grasp the Mandarin language as precisely as myself despite having spent a good 5-6 years in local Taiwanese schools. In fact, one of my Mandarin teachers, Mr. Ben Wu, was so impressed by my ability to write poems and short stories, he once commented on my work 文思泉湧、才華洋溢 and asked me a few times if I truly never have studied in a local school. In part, that is why I think I'm a bit of a grammar nazi... The inconsistency of form irritates me like sand in the eye. Imagine how just one stroke in the Chinese character can completely change the meaning of a word. Take 孑孓 for example, just the direction of the stroke can change the meaning and pronunciation of the word. This precision fascinates me -- the ability to embody  "meaning" and "depth" into a somewhat squarish looking block of strokes. This, is art. To be honest, I don't remember a Chinese character by writing it a million times, but instead seeing it like a "picture." Perhaps that is in part why my stroke order is all messed up for some words.

多愁善感

最近變得有些多愁善感，或許是年齡到了、荷爾蒙作祟，許多不經意的小事都被放大了好多倍。和青年時期的強說愁有本質上的不同。回想起自己在青年時的探索、identity的建立，突然驚覺自己的成長和穩定。像某些不穩定的化學物質，經過了時間、低溫及高溫的反覆淬煉，終於找到了一個穩定的平衡點。或像在做瑜伽的crow pose時，緩慢的、小心的，將小腿扣在手肘上離地的那個瞬間，所體會到的平和、穩定。

曾經我也是那樣懵懂，不停試探自己的能耐，探索所有的自我特質--性向、體態、道德、對異性的吸引力…所有少女應該有的好奇心，我都盡我所能的順應了。到現在，我可以更肯定的說，我挺瞭解自己的。我的長處、短處、心魔、最不想重複的家庭悲劇…大概都有個底了。開始可以更精確的掌握自己的情緒，適時的附和、安全的假笑，應該俱備的基本社交技能都練得爐火純青。

也大概是這個時候才真正明白，我的成就來自男人。所有的特權、優越感、自信，全源自於父親一手打造的中產家庭。自幼資源無虞、又享盡獨生女無需與他人共享父母注意力的特權，我從來沒有懷疑過自己的能力。不曾需要與手足比較，我的表現就是標竿，是最壞，也是最好。到後來我因為我的男友而離開了社會主義的台灣，迎面體驗資本主義至上的香港，才看到另一種極端的糜爛、奢華、價值觀。逛過大觀園了，知道什麼叫權力、榮華富貴、裙帶關係、貪污腐敗… 我又蛻變了。

這一路走來，我終於深刻的明白，自己是個商人的女兒。有些直覺反應，來自遺傳，有些則是透過童年時期的耳濡目染而內化。這種自知之明，稱不上高尚或光彩，卻是實在的、有根據的。現在，我可以心平氣和的說，我是幸福的。我明白我在追求什麼，而且我野心勃勃。