上海9日.5.28-6.5

上海. 两年多了, 您现在长得怎么样呢? 今天去上海的心情有些复杂, 有点遗憾去年九月份没有过去. 但是, 我还是要玩的很开心的! 都说过去了, 也不要再去想它了, 未来还是掌握在自己手中的!

期待和两位好朋友见面. 一位有六年没有见面了, 哈哈, 实在有点奇怪. 人在新加坡的时候没有想到要见, 反而去了上海我们都说聚一下, 吃吨饭, 聊往事. 要失去了才懂得珍惜吗?

1 more day to World Expo!

Haha, maybe not quite, but it's true, one more day to Shanghai. How 4 months have flown by so quickly! Amazing and terrifying at the same time. Oh crap, this might be my last post for 10 days ... ain't too bad, I went without Blogger, Facebook and Plurk for almost a month last September! Luckily there were those phone calls ... oh well ...

Oh, maybe I can still sneak in one right before I hop on the plane ;)

Life in a series of chapters

I scanned a book on birthdates on Saturday. It said, people born on the 9th of March lead lives comprised of disparate chapters. I think I just closed one. I'm not quite sure how the next one will be written yet, I'm having a sort of a creative block at the moment. I don't know who the characters might be, will they be new or if the old ones I've loved so much may stage a comeback. But I know for sure I need a break, I don't know how long it will take, it will be a while.

And I've started reading Stieg Larsson. There is a sort of morbid romanticism that piqued my interest in this writer. Not so much his books, but his story. You know, this Swedish writer had planned an epic 10-book thriller, only to die halfway through his fourth. I'm on his first: "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". So far, so good. I intend to read all three, and if they finally decide to release the fourth, as the original manuscript is or completed by someone else, I'll pick that up too. But I'll never know how the next chapters will be written, or rather, would have been written by Stieg Larsson.

Today, I'm introduced to controversial Iranian director عباس کیارستمی `Abbās Kiyārostamī, who was celebrated at Cannes as the festival closed yesterday, who is a master at visualising Persian poetry so beautifully in his films. In The Wind Will Carry Us, Kiyārostamī reflected on the connection between the past and the present, between continuity and change.

They promise of houries in heaven,

But I would say wine is better,

Take the present to the promises,

A drum sounds melodious from distance

I immediately connect, as I reflect on my own story's crazy chapters, sometimes disjointed, sometimes coherent, but eventually they all come together. This is what I told DA. We talked about our tendency to make up stories for ourselves, and then try our darn best to fulfill them, even to the detriment of our own sanity. What I told him, we do what we think we ought to do at any point in time. The story will work itself out, everything will somehow come together in the end and make sense. It's all part of the journey, right? Only in chapters.

Pacman turns 30, Google celebrates

There's a very nice Pacman GAME as Google's logo, on Google's homepage. Insert coin to play. Here's a still capture.

CD sketched me a panda!

On her iPhone. Amazing. So beautiful, I'm thrilled.

Hah, it's the little things in life that make me really happy :)

走到了最后的十天, 反而已经没有什么感觉了. 我想我期待到累了因为到头来, 可能就只是一场空 ... 不知道呢, 再看看吧, 不抱什么期望的, 那么就不会失望.

The Curious Case of the Pajamas

As a little girl, I loved my pajamas. They were airy and comfortable. They were pretty with lace and sometimes colourful fancy buttons. Above all, they were handmade by my mother.

But I stopped wearing pajamas, I don't remember when. Must be well into my teens. When outfits were an expression of the unique personality of a rebellious teen, who cared what I wore to bed. That must be when I got too lazy to change into the pajamas just for sleeping. Besides, mom had stopped making pajamas for us. I guess they're not so cute to make anymore since we were already big girls, so she stopped. Indeed, all other pajamas we found out there were nowhere near cute, nowhere close to the detailed workmanship that mom had displayed in her pieces, so no way would I spend any precious cent on any of those. So I stopped wearing pajamas.

Then, it became really interesting for me to watch on TV back then and even now, how the Chinese can parade the busiest streets of the city in their pajamas. When my aunt from Beijing visited in the 90s, she had no qualms wearing her pajamas everywhere. Honestly, I was rather flabbergasted.

Only very recently, I understood the significance of the pajamas to a Chinese back in those days, being very poor, when many clothes were hand-me-downs, how could one even think of having special clothes just for sleeping. So the pajamas were a symbol of status (and NYT says, coolness too). Someone who could afford the pajamas was of a certain social stature, especially when communism was at its peak and everyone was supposed to be equal. So it's only natural one would flaunt it at every available chance - out in the neighbourhood, at the market, riding public transport, at the most crowded and visible places of any gritty Chinese neighbourhood. Besides, living in tight communal quarters back in the day, it didn't make much sense changing out of them just to walk a few metres to buy some meat from across the street, did it?

Old habits die hard.

But China has grown so fast and in her race to join the top powers of the world, is also very rapidly shedding ugly old habits. Shanghai wants the pajamas off her streets now that the Expo is in full swing and the city is under tight scrutiny and criticised for every tiny flaw, oh, how many others will delight at seeing the poised Chinese superpower crumble. Like the legs of a pair of soft cotton pajamas.
Of course, people oppose it. Some do so because old habits die hard. Some do so because it's a piece of Shanghainese lifestyle and a chunk of China's past yanked out by force, and nobody likes to be forced to comply to anything that threatens that which is close to the heart. But with progress, they somehow must. Who will want to remember, or for that matter, need to remember, Shanghai by her colourful pajamas parade? Old habits die hard, but die they must. Soon, everyone will forget anyway.

Zocards

Everytime I pass by a café, I always sneak a peek at the Zocard revolving shelf. Over the years, I've collected countless of these cards. To many, they're just advertisements. To me, they are beautiful inspiring works of art. With a date stamp. So that makes them wonderful objects of nostalgia, of immense sentimental value.

They take up valuable real estate in my cramped apartment. Many a times, I mean to throw them out. Like today. But I took one look, and then, took a few pictures, and stuffed them right back where they belong. The logic is simple.

If they're inspiring enough to make me wanna immortalise them on film, how can they be relegated to the trash can?

RE. START.

They say girls with big bags have security issues. What I used to sneer at, I agree now. We want to pile our lives into those bags, we want every unpredictable situation under control as long as we have everything in the bag.

Yet, ironically, we are the least prepared, we do not know how to react to evil twists of fate, or change in heart. So we steel ourselves; we keep our fragile hearts in metal chests that even top grade diamonds cannot cut through. For we are not like them girls who quiver at the diamond's shallow brilliance.

Instead ...

We query the mystery of a volcanic rock thrown up from the depths of her mother's belly 10,000 leagues under the sea, we marvel at the fine grains of sands that hide so many lives but yet so transparent and vulnerable as glass. We dive deep into our own emotional oceans, seeking still waters, craving tranquility, wanting stability.

That's not you, a friend once said to me. You live life on the edge.

A little too much, yes. I sometimes venture foolishly out to embrace the climactic horrors of the emotionsphere. I've been kissed by the breeze on my cheeks and the golden rays of sunlight on my eyes. I've hunched against the assail of hail and been punched out of wind in my stomach. I've burned like a furnace in my chest and chilled to the core of my heart.

I want to retreat to the seabed, where the water runs deep, where the current is still. Where I'd rather not fall into the giddying pleasure of a spinning vortex, so I won't be breathless when I fall out of it.

We have baggages we cannot let go. Yet we must learn to do so.

I need to. I have to. RE. START.

The Panda Series

5.12

Can't believe it's been 2 years since the great Sichuan earthquake. God bless.

Through the fog

I always choose the bus over the train if I'm not pressed for time. I like all the visual stimulants that come with a long bus ride, ears plugged to my favourite playlist, retreating into my own contemplative thoughts and feelings. Like CD said, "making my own MTV" in those hour-long rides.

That was what I did the past Saturday, after the rain. Alas, my window was foggy so I could only get a blurry picture of the scenery outside. Alas, I couldn't quite catch the red Mazda 3s (think their butts are incredibly cute and sexy, aren't they?), which I've got into the habit of counting. So I played with my camera instead. I just got a new all-black pouch and a bright red hand-strap for it. The camera body is all-black too, so the dash of red against all the black is quite beautiful. Well, I digress.

What I meant to say was, I aimed a shot from behind a foggy window, and got pleasantly surprised by this result. Enjoy! :)

Blue skies

Coincidentally, it was also Daniel's birthday. The skies were smiling for him, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

And I love Blue Skies by BT, featuring Tori Amos. She didn't actually say the words "Blue Skies" here. Instead, he spliced her vocals from different places to form the words. Genius, though sometimes you wonder why he would go this roundabout way in making music. But the haunting result is well worth it! Attention to details rocks. And BT's nano-tech stutter tricks are worth a patent.

May 美

May = 美.
五月应该是美好的. 期待.
v(^___^*)v

.5

Apr.5: I returned from Hong Kong after 4 wonderful days of eat, play, relax and workout.
Jun.5: I'll be returning from Shanghai after 9 wonderful days of happiness. I hope.

Now, ...

May.5 seems uneventful.

May.5: Where will I return from?
Make it decadence.

May.5: Where will I return to?
Make it innocence.

Enigma. Return to Innocence.
Boy. Do I love this song. Tune.
Ugh. Whatever. Just listen.

May Day! Spring Day!

反而没什么感觉了。

走一天，看一天吧。

春天是美好的吗？

但愿如此。

春天是开花结果

的好季节。

May Day! May Day!

May Day, Spring Day

I laugh a mocking laugh

How can an expression

of much distress

the start of a season

of hope

Then again

For there is no need

for hope

if the great bellies

of distress

one needs not escape

A vicious cycle

Indeed

Without distress there will be

no hope.

Only gloom.

May Day! May Day!

I face thee with all my might,

Distress,

I shout with all my might,

And then,

I hope with all my might.