發酵成酸的思念說不出口
縈繞了好久 纏住我的喉
緊鎖著我的心 和那失溫的雙手
在深夜裡彷彿又見到彩虹
像你獨有的 迷濛的溫柔
撥弄我的心 它微微的顫抖
那一道彩虹總是駐留不久
像你獨有的 短暫的溫柔
卻一直繫著你 將你栓在我心頭
2015年4月28日 星期二
2013年5月15日 星期三
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.
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.
2013年5月8日 星期三
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。
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。
2013年3月13日 星期三
Japan, US, China
一邊跟台灣示好、稱讚，其實說穿了只不過是想激怒中國。就他否定慰安婦及東京審判的舉動，其政治意圖及integrity再令人反感不過。南北韓也是可憐？不過是中國及美國的政治角力，同樣的民族、同樣的語言、甚至是同一個家庭卻成了他人政治意圖的犧牲品。對於美國而言，南韓的淪陷會強烈削弱美軍在東亞的勢力，東北亞除了日本之外就再也沒有其他"民主政權"(俄羅斯這種名不符其實的假民主，我們就別提了)，而要是北韓淪陷，則中國將會直接和一個親美政權的國家share borders，和民主那麼接近肯定會威脅到共產的生存。
雖然我不敢說美國人多高尚，畢竟美國也是打著對方有毀滅性武器(結果發現沒有後就改打以人權)之名向伊拉克進行轟炸，但至少1861年的美國內戰有一部分是因奴役制度/人權而戰，跟一些有死豬填河、毒氣籠罩，枉顧其人民性命的政府相比，可看出兩邊政府是如何衡量自己人的性命價值。說到底，自己人害自己人(內鬨)才是最不值的，要是給我在兩害之一取其輕，我當然也是寧可活在一個安全的地方，戰爭最好都在別處發生。
說到這裡我不免要再批評一下布希(老爸&兒子)和德州。美國之亂都是由南方引起的，奴役也好、伊拉克這群南方好戰份子也好，可不可以get some sense???這些人讀到哈佛有什麼用，他們到底明不明白戰爭其實是很血腥很殘酷的，後果是很大恨大的。你看看印度就知道，明明和巴基斯坦人和尼泊爾人是一樣的人種，卻因為宗教和英國勢力的介入搞成現在三方永不得安寧，全部都認為自己才是正當政權兼受害者。
還有像美國內戰時，歐洲也沒有為了北美的玉米或南美的棉花而介入，所以美國人自己sort it out後就可以once and for all蓋棺定論。但如果有外來勢力介入，那麼不論最後誰贏，戰敗方一定會心存怨恨或說這一場戰爭不公平，進而凝聚更多反派勢力，以真正愛國的名義捲土重來。所以美國這樣一值在中東亂攪和，雖然長遠來說是利美的，未來30-50年後可以在中東部分地區設立親美政權，讓石油交易更順利，但這之中的代價太大了，是整個中東的內戰，互戰，瓦解... 美索不達米亞變成從孕育文明到摧殘文明。
但最可恨的還是自己人害自己人，中國政府的不透明，人命如此輕易的被放棄，就因為人口多所以不怕讓亡者成為一個數據而已。美權齷齪，但中國政府卻是沒人性，富者恆富，拱派系、養太子、官官相衛，一場文化大革命把人格都搞掉了。孔子的大學都說過了大學之道 在明明德 在親民 在止於至善，試問各位大人做到了多少？敢公布名下有幾個假戶口，真房產？誰真的做到明明德、親民、至善了呢？
2013年2月21日 星期四
Faith
As with all beliefs and interpretation, all can be justified if you choose to as justification is merely a point of view.
Perhaps it is fine to believe that Earth is the center of the universe, rest is heresy.
Fine to believe that every single creature was being created at one point, rest is heresy.
Fine to believe that evolution is part of the creationism process, in a grander scale, rest is heresy.
But perhaps the greatest faith of all is to see that all is now and now is all, that time is a gravitational concept and a new world shall be revealed to us if we can travel faster than light. That after centuries of justifying a 5,000 year old scripture that humans can finally come at peace with oneself and accept that immortality is merely a reflection of human desire. That seeking for a life after death is just as foolish as the Egyptian's practice of mummification.
And that to create is merely human. Spontaneity is grand.
I find it absolutely puzzling that people are so willingly jumping into a religion -- an adoption of a lifetime's faith which dictates one's origins and one's "end", without understanding all the options out there but simply following the established ones. Just like a sound investment, shouldn't you attempt to understand everything first before you decide?
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